Newmillerdam, 10.55 a.m., 100% cloud, 7℃, 45℉, rain: Three mallard drakes are soon chased away by the second, non-brooding bird, which soon returns to feed the chicks. Unfortunately the nest platform is festooned with soggy white bread but the young are also getting natural food as the second bird dives nearby, which is more popular than the gloopy, soggy bread.
From 10 or 12 feet away, I can’t see the flanges that are already starting to develop along the toes of the coot chicks’ feet. Three of the chicks are noticeably larger than the others and already coming out for a brief swim around the nest. The smaller chicks stay under the brooding bird.
When it comes on to rain all the chicks somehow find room in the nest, one of them just poking its head out from the shelter of ‘mum’s’ (I’m guessing it’s mum) wing and getting fed when the other adult swims in with the odd morsel of food. I can’t tell what the food is but one bit looked a bit wispy as if it was waterweed.
You could describe it as biological erosion: a few weeks ago I noticed a small group of house sparrows ‘gritting’ on an old sandstone wall in Horbury.
The sand grains are used in the bird’s gizzard to help grind down the seeds and grain that form its staple diet. Sparrows will also peck at mortar on walls, which gives them an extra mineral, calcium carbonate, in the cement.
Like other aspects of sparrow life – such as feeding, drinking, dust bathing and courtship – this is an opportunity for a bit of a social gathering and the inevitable chirruping dispute.
Lake outlet, Newmillerdam, 10.15 a.m.: The sitting coot gets increasingly alarmed as the drake mallard gets nearer, dabbling around the nest. The coot’s repeated, scalding notes get more frantic until its mate swims over briefly to check things out, but the mallard soon moves on.
Back to the business of incubating, the coot keeps changing position and I get a glimpse of 8-10 greenish brownish eggs.
Its mate returns and presents the sitting bird with a spindly pencil-length twig sprouting fresh green leaves. This is accepted by the bird on the nest (I’m not saying ‘the female’ because I can’t tell the difference between the two birds) and incorporated into the car tyre-sized platform.
Have you ever come across the idea that natural history illustration “isn’t art”? I remember you trained in design and illustration rather than fine art – have you ever had to defend your work against this charge?
My friend, writer Richard Smyth, in an e-mail today
Interesting question. It’s not anything that anyone has ever challenged me on but, like most creatives, I wouldn’t want to use ‘artist’ as a job description. I’d always describe myself as an illustrator/writer. Although I’ve had exhibitions of paintings, probably 99% of my work is illustration and intended to be seen on a page or screen with text. My sketchbooks are part field notebook.
It’s a relief to be off the hook as far as art is concerned. When I draw a flower, bird or snail, I love the idea that the creature has the right just to be itself. I can’t avoid being an observer and therefore having an implied presence in a drawing but I don’t want to burden the poor creature with how I was feeling that day, or with my views on Life, The Universe and Everything.
I feel that when Picasso draws a dove, a monkey, a horse or a bull, the critics have to scramble around to tell us what that symbolised at that stage in his career, whereas if I, as I did this morning, draw a pink-footed goose, I’d like the actions, appearance and personality of that particular goose on that particular day, to be the main subject: not to mention the energy and mystery implicit in said goose simply being a goose.
I know this is impossible, as I’m not a camera, but that would be my aim.
There was plenty of action on the duck pond in Thornes Park this morning but these two mallard/farmyard drakes were a more appealing subject, dozing in the sun amongst the ferny cow parsley by a woodland path.
Male house sparrow, wood pigeon feather.
A ramshorn snail shell (a pond snail) and what I think are two brown- or possibly white-lipped snails.
We’ve been in a high pressure area for a while now, which means sunny days but cold nights. So far our tomato plants in the greenhouse had survived unscathed but an extra heavy frost last night has shrivelled most of them. There’s still time to plant replacements.
Barbara’s birthday today and last year, still under the first lockdown, the highlight of the day was a click-and-collect visit to a supermarket, the furthest we had been since our previous click-and-collect. This year we can entertain a limited number of guests in our garden.
We’re delighted to have some of our facilities open for your visit, you’ll notice we’ve made some changes to help keep everyone safe.
RSPB Dearne Valley Old Moor website
We’re looking forward to being allowed to travel again as far as our nearest RSPB reserves, but for the time being we’re limiting ourselves to walks from home. Non-essential shops and hairdressers opened again today.
An earlier version of this homemade birthday card (happy birthday, Paul) suggested that a Masked Booby had turned up at Old Moor, but I don’t think that I’d get that one past the Rarities Committee.
It’s been a busy month for birthday cards, this one inspired by my niece, Sarah, who in real life really appreciates the bad boids visiting her feeders.
For World Women’s Day, two local heroes, Eliza and Helen Edmonstone, who did what they could in an attempt to preserve the legacy of their brother-in-law Charles Waterton: his museum and nature reserve at Walton Hall, near Wakefield.
Eliza (1807-1870) and her younger sister Helen (1813-1879) were of Scottish/Caribbean descent.
The margay was trained to hunt rats at Walton Hall. I’ve read that Waterton trained it to run with foxhounds.
According to a story that I heard via my tutor, Professor Bryan Robb, at the Royal College of Art, whose wife was related to Waterton, a tame crow (or possibly a raven?) once interrupted mass in the small chapel at Walton Hall, wandering in during the service and causing mayhem.
Charles Dickens consulted Waterton when researching the habits of Grip, the pet raven in Barnaby Rudge.
By the way, a credit to another of my tutors at the Royal College, Quentin Blake, who, amongst other things, did what he could to find me work on BBC television’s Jackanory and who tried to broaden my outlook by getting me to draw zoo animals in the way that Ted Hughes might see them. I now realise that I could have learnt a lot from him, so I’m currently taking another look at his work and trying to free up my pen and wash. When he’s adding wash, he never works exactly to the outline and in this drawing I tried hard to do that, but it’s difficult for me with my rather literal approach to illustration.
1.45 pm, Monday 25 January: So far no takers. I’ve somewhat hopefully set up my DSLR, Olympus Tough and even my iPhone all focussed on the birdbath. Just a few feet away there are long-tailed tits, wood pigeons and starlings feeding but nothing is touching down for a quick drink.
What do you know?! – just as I wrote that, a blue tit came down and perched exactly on the spot that I’d focussed on. Let’s hope that the memory card lasted out!
Later
Unfortunately it’s just as I expected: the blue tit turned up a few minutes after the two cameras ran out of memory. It should be there on the iPhone but that’s just taking a general view.
Back at the Waterhole
I give it another try and 3.30 pm, which in winter is late afternoon, proves to be a better time. Within the first five minutes this blue tit comes down to drink, then flies up to the sunflower hearts feeder.
I could have guaranteed some bird action if I’d focussed on the feeders but it’s going to take a bit more arranging to get my cameras up on that level. Besides, a bird’s bathing routine is going to be more interesting than just watching them feeding.
Just to be sure that I’d get something, I set up the iPhone at the foot of feeding pole, so at least I’ll have some close-up shots of blackbirds, chaffinch and robin on the ground.
Wrens at a sparrow box in mid-January – are they roosting or thinking about a nest site? And what will happen when the resident blue tit returns?
In the sequence where the two wrens are hopping around on top of the box, it looks as if one of them has a small green caterpillar in its bill. This could be courtship feeding, so the tour of alternative nest holes might be the male giving the female a tour of possible nest sites.
Wednesday 13 January, Barbara’s diary: Some day we will get it right for the birds!
First we put up a blue tit box and sparrows nested in it, so we replaced it with a sparrow terrace with three nest holes and the blue tits nested in it.
Now the blue tits are sub-letting to a group of wrens.
Barbara’s iPhone photograph of the blue tit at nest hole 1.
As I went to make our morning cuppa, passing the back door something caught my eye, I looked out at the sparrow box and in the half light could see a little head appear from hole number one. I was amazed to see a wren fly out and it was quickly followed by three more, they had obviously been using it as an overnight roost.
We had spotted a wren yesterday coming out of hole number three, while at the same time a blue tit was taking great interest in hole number one. Another blue tit attempted to investigate the middle hole but the one at hole one in no uncertain terms let it know it wasn’t welcome, although it didn’t seem bothered by the wren.
It would be lovely to think that we could have blue tit and wren making a nest in the terrace this Spring and a bonus would be a sparrow in the middle. Well, who knows what will happen with these contrary birds!
Barbara Bell
Saturday 16 January, 4.45 pm: I’d seen a wren hopping about on the hedge but it was taking its time coming over to the nestbox. That changed when a blue tit flew over an perched at the left-hand nest hole. Within seconds the wren was there, perching on the edge of the box and, in no uncertain terms, letting the blue tit know that it wasn’t welcome.
The wren popped into the hole for just a few seconds before flitting out again. We don’t know if there are any wrens roosting in the box tonight. On previous nights we’ve seen three going in there as darkness falls.
