Today, according to the all-seeing all-knowing weatherbods at the Beeb, it was supposed to be pretty much pissing down everywhere. Especially south wales. Last night I was quite annoyed by this - Dartfords are quite unlikely to be seen in torrential rain, and as Marmora's are very Dartford-like, it seemed I'd have to wait [due to commitments] until after at least one clear night with brisk northerly winds before I'd get a shot [and you could see where that was headed...].
Why the turn around in my thinking about going for it? Well, turns out it isn't outside my Strictly Enforced Twitching Radius after all - allowing for idiotic drivers, ******* SPECS, almost crashing in shock at the SSC toll [being used to the Tamar one], and accidentally taking a one-way turning into a poultry factory... [don't ask] it is more like 2.5 than 3.5 hours.
Yup, I know because I did it today - and what a peachy little bird the Marmora's is! :D Also, the Beeb once again were talking out their arses - it was sunny. Blue frelling skies, light winds, 22 degrees... There were only 15 birders on site [with a reasonable rotation] and thus parking at 'the' car park was possible [if your suspension survived the potholes...]. Enough eyes to keep track of the [very very mobile] bird, but not so many as to get in the way - ideal! If you go to Karen Woolley's blog, you will see a twitch photo - see the group on the left [on the other side of the road from the car park]? It perched there. It had a feather. I think it was showing it off; "Look what I found!"
What really surprised me was how much like home it is around there - Blorenge is pretty much Cosdon Beacon with a road over it [and a telly station instead of a cairn at the summit] and the narrow twisty steep lanes are so familiar I started to wonder if I'd gotten really lost...? The rolling green woods and fields of gwent and monmouthshire are like a [slightly toned down] copy of north Devon - again as you can see from Cosdon. It's not a perfect copy, of course; the mining's a lot more recent, and the sheep are utterly stupid. The sheep? Devon sheep, while not being the smartest creatures in the world [[nomination for Understatement of the Year]] learn as lambs that running out in front of cars is a Bad Idea, they know it is safe to stand or even lie down at the road side. These welsh sheep, however, made a habit of trying to get themselves hit...
Right, get back to the point! So, yes, quite a lot like Devon it was up there. Explained in part, perhaps, by the fact that a lot of the rocks there are Devonian [overlain to the southwest by the Carboniferous Coal Measures of the Famous Welsh Valleys, look you]. Also by the similar climate [a local birder and I had an interesting conversation as we realised just how similar our weather is]. Not quite the same, of course - quite a few more sharper straighter slopes [due to glaciation]. As the formula goes Landscape = Geology - Weathering [+/- Human Activity]
Wanting to get past Bristol before rush hour, and not yearlisting, I decided to round things off on the Levels. Ok, I would have gone to Chew to see the Fudge [as its been tarting around Herriot's] but there was an accident and the road I wanted got closed. As I got to the Wicker Man junction, I met some rain. Well, I met a white wall.... Ouch. It turned off [as heavy rain often does - I won't bore you with the reasons] about a mile west of Ashcott, and I was hopeful Shapwick would be dry, but nope. Thus the title. Good point being the quietness - apart from almost being squished by the wardens' Landy [on the path to Noah's Hide!] and meeting a cycling couple, it was dead quiet. Well, rain and birdsong [and baby Cormorant yarking] aside!
Sitting in a hide in the rain - one of the finer things in this birding life. Its only the tertiary function of a hide [primary is to let you see the birds without disturbing them, secondary is to let you sit down and rest your elbows while doing so] but oh so satisfying. Noah's Hide is a mini tower hide, placed so that the prevailing wind and rain can blow through it. Being alone in there is a privilege rarely granted - usually, year-round its busy, often packed [understandable as it's but 2 windows wide] - and I duly appreciated my fortune.
The rain fell, the hundred or so Mutes did swanny things, the Cormorants and their pterodactyls [sorry, chicks] kept up their activity, a few LBBs flew about.. Then a score or so of Swifts arrived and despite the still-falling rain made the most of the insects. A Reed Warbler patrolled a circuit down close to the hide, pausing every few metres to shake the rain from its wings. A Cetti's managed to get into the tree next to the hide, deliver his blast of a song, and fly off without even showing a movement to me. Further away, a Sedge Warbler intermittently sang. Well off to the left, a pair of Pintail [Failed breeders? Residents?] upended. Quiet [for a place with nigh on 300 birds in sight and sound] and very very enjoyable.
Eventually the rain did stop, and the sun came out. A Bittern flew by, another boomed. An Otter terrorised the fish by Noah's Hide... I'm sure it flicked its tail at me :D Dragging myself away, a Garden Warbler seemed to have suffered from the wet, as it showed with Robin-like boldness - singing in plain view no more than 10 feet up by the pathside. I was so surprised I actually asked it what it thought it was doing - it looked at me, sang some more to show it wasn't bovvered, before moving on. Then, to round things off nicely, a 3cy male Marsh Harrier was hunting over Meare Heath - lit by the lowering sun in front of the still cloud-shaded Mendips.
A good day, despite the mozzies that stowed away in my car at Ashcott Corner and made the trip home far more eventful than I would have liked....
