I've been something of a wildlife magnet of late. For a blog about my pursuit of a slow return to fitness after a year of being a sofa spud, woodland creatures feature surprisingly heavily. Mrs. Tiggywinkle's cohorts have mostly taken to playing chicken whenever I'm on the road. Yesterday evening, a whole herd of deer in the moonlight, today a suicidal pheasant. I didn't kill her, honest. And I'm surmising about her deathwish, because moments after she hurtled in front of me, I saw a squished male. I thought she might've been gripped by a pheasanty distraughtness, and longed only to join Mr. P over the rainbow bridge. They don't mate for life do they? I do hope not. I'd like to imagine she's a promiscuous bird, but that's not something I'm prepared to type into Google ... I'm wise to the danger of turning ornithology into hornithology.
I did however feel compelled to investigate whether the owl I heard hooting in the middle of the day was a common occurrence, or whether I should call out the RSPB's owl whisperer. Any urban-dweller will be used to the irrepressible blackbirds, starlings and rooks which'll squawk and sing at all hours, but an owl?
Let me tell you, online I opened a portal into a world of undreamed of anorakery. If you aspire to being an 'anorak' (in the human rather than the clothing sense) just pick any hobby which ends in the word 'spotting'. Birdspotting, planespotting, trainspotting ... all require reverence for mind-numbing amounts of precise detail. Perhaps I secretly envy their devotion to minutiae, their ability to relish absorption in something un-noticed by the rest of us, us 'missers'. If it's not the particular one I'm after, I can comfortably confirm I'm a trainmisser and a planemisser ... well, certainly since they scrapped Concorde. I absolutely bloody loved seeing that plane. As for trains, I might point excitedly at a steam train if I see one, but whether it's a Mallard or a Tornado, I couldn't give a Flying Scotsman.
Anyway. Owls. It seems it is possible to hear them hooting in the day, but I'm telling you - it sounds well weird. According to the pragmatically titled 'birdforum', it might've been the common jay, tricking an owl in order to attack it. A sort of ornithological ninja Alistair McGowan. Heavy stuff. Alternatively, a man with the splendid chutzpah to call himself* 'very boring banned member' assures us:
Some owls do it regularly, like Glaucidium passerinum. But I have heard at least Aegolius funereus & Bubo bubo in broad daylight (and Caprimulgus europaeus, too!). G. passerinum is regarded as a dawn & dusk singer, and I have heard it often in the middle of night, too.
*Am I being sexist in assuming this ubertwitcher's a bloke? Could it be a woman? I only know trainspotters and planespotters, and to a man, they're all, er, male. I've seen birdspotters in cagouled and binoculared pairs, but I don't know if she's simply been sucked into his hobby, knowing that if she's to spend any time with him, she must roam the fens equally eager to spot feathered rarities.
Today's exercise involved loadsa birds, some will have been gulls, others may have been more exotic or interesting ... I've no idea, I'm not an anorak ... but the eerie and melancholy calls as they went about their beaky business were quite stunning. I went for a power-walk on the beach, because walking in sand uses 50% more something or other, calories or muscle strength, or both or something ... I can't remember. Read this: http://www.discoverwalking.com/blog/benefits-of-walking-on-the-beach.php
So begins my final week of rendering meself ready to join the Milton Keynes to London leg of Steven the UniCyclist's 20,000+ mile journey around 50 capitals in Europe http://www.unicycle50.com/ and I keep saying this ... dooooooo join us http://www.facebook.com/?ref=hp#!/event.php?eid=174564295907447 ... I need someone else to volunteer. I might not make it. I'm knackered.
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