Mud. It's funny stuff. One of those things that you don't really think about. Its there, it gets all over your shoes if you can't avoid it, consequence of rain and so forth. Brown squelchy stuff. Except when its black. Or white. Or orange. Or grey. Or yellow. Or green [yes, really]. Or when its slippery. Or sticky. Or an horrific liquid goo. Or kind of doughy. Or rubbery and really quite bouncy. Mud comes from soil, and soil means rocks aided by plants. Oh yes, its geology time again. [[Kidding - gotcha. ;) ]]
The best kind of mud is that which, though it sicks to your boots [being mud - getting your footwear messy is its raison d'être, after all] will come off cleanly with a good thump and so often will have fallen off all by itself by the time you get back. Such mud - moreover of a pleasingly dark colour reminiscent of dark chocolate - may be found on the somerset Levels. Which is where I was on Friday.
Last week was long, stressful, hot, and generally annoying at work. Blech. The levels in winter are one of my favourite birding trips, and with the warm weather, it seemed likely that soon the winter visitors would be departing, so better to get on with it. Likewise, a weekday was much more likely to give a little frickin' peace and quiet. Oh, and there was a drake Smew tarting around. A mere afterthought, naturally. :)
Hoving to at Ashcott Corner, a minibus was not a welcome sight. "Oh no, not an RSPB group..." I headed west and there they were, a pack of 17 - one scope between them - stopped by the bridge. They divided into two as I approached - so much for Noah's, I shrugged. I would have kept on, but barely were they out of sight in the trees either side but first a Bittern made with the booming, and as I stopped to enjoy that, a couple of Bearded Tits made themselves known. Nice. I scanned Noah's from the trackway, seeing lots of usuals, but no others of the 6 - no wait, a Bittern! It dropped in quite close to and vanished in the reeds. Sweeeeet.
The plan had been to set up at Decoy and pretty much stay put - I was knackered after work and running around didn't appeal. There had also been something about Smew coming to within 30' of the hide that caught my attention and had me taking my camera along, too...
I spent the rest of the morning in the gradually filling hide, and while nothing fancy came close enough to shoot, the Smew did show, though the drake was a right git; he'd evidently taken a leaf from the Yellowthroat's 'How to Be A Sneaky Git' book of getting from cover to cover unseen... The group of Whooper Swans present were riiiiight at the back, but one or possibly two drake Goldeneye were closer, if also mobile and elusive. The adult female Marsh Harrier gave us a few shows, at one point with company, but any Great Whites present kept low profiles. Early afternoon I yomped my way back, nipping over to Ham Wall for a quick look as I did. I met the horde again, learning that they were some sort of general wildlife of the levels tour thing, but seeing no GWE's or Bitterns or anything fancier than 3 smart drake Pintail.
An early start homewards was due to my intending to finally stop at a place I've passed many a time, thinking 'I ought to go here sometime'. So I did. Said place is Burrow Mump, which, as well as having a joyously wonderful name, is also a mini Glastonbury Tor. Its a steep steep hill with a little ruined church on top and some serious views. I lugged the Big Scope up and had a blast. A big group of Ruff had been seen from there [ah, ulterior motives..] but while there was no sign of them, a huge number of Lapwing, Teal and Wigeon were visible. Plus assembling trees full of Starlings. Also swan herds and the Secret Place That Everyone Knows About - though denizens were elsewhere [humph - would have been a wonderful long-range yeartick...]. the mud there is quite unfriendly, managing to be sneakily slippery [not good on a slope like that] and also glueing itself to your boots. But the climb is worth it.
Skipping on in time... Saturday saw much bashing of Patch. I didn't get anything major, though a very distant diver on the mirror calm sea screamed Black-throated, it was just too far to nail. Likewise, a very pale gull among the mass following a trawler into Brixham may have been Something, but even the World's Biggest Ball of Yarn wouldn't try ticking it. ;D Much closer, four Fulmar sat on the sea making Fulmar-y noises at each other. Boing Boing, Spring is in the air, oh yes...
Sunday was a day on't Moor with the Folks, for the first time in ages. We walked the 10 mile Holne - Ryder's - Heap o' Sinners - Puper's - Mardle loop that I scouted last year, and it was very nice indeed. Blazing sunshine and light winds, not too many people - well, tons around but we stayed mostly off the TenTors routes. Alas, there were lots of sheep [not alas from aTilly the Hun's point of view, of course....] so not the quietest walk. Birdwise, Holne had its Yellowhammers in fine form, singing and showing very well :) There are still a few winter thrushes about - a group of 32 came up the Mardle while we were there, Redwing and Fieldfare with a few Mistle Thrushes. The day was filled with song, most especially by the many Skylarks up, though one was up, down, sideways and all round about as a female Merlin gave it one hell of a persistent attack! The two eventually dropped out of sight, so I don't know if the falcon finally caught the lark - certainly it didn't seem to be giving up, though the Skylark's ability to read the Merlin's turns and get out of the line of attack were amazing.
On the way home, I, er, persuaded the Folks to try a detour to a Mandarin site. This proved to be a bit of a disaster. Ok, a lot of a disaster, as we couldn't find the frickin' place! There's supposed to be this bridge, which it turns out you can't see when you're on it, and there's nowhere to stop either. But somehow people do. We didn't have time to park in the nearest place and walk all the way back, so we called it a day. Drat.
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