Woodland walk

Jack-by-the-hedge or Garlic Mustard

The swallows have arrived in the last week or so. Bang on time, a year to the day from their last arrival. One can only marvel at their in-built calendars.  The numbers are down but they have been battling against persistent northerly head-winds so only the strongest will have made it so far. Hopefully, more will catch up later. 

The sun has, at last, started to shine though the temperatures are still low and the solitary bees that usually throng the early blooms on the flowering currant in the hedge are few in number.

 The nest boxes are occupied and the warblers are singing in the woods.

Chiffchaff

 I heard what can only be described as a musical duel between two blackcaps trying to outdo each other.  What to my ears was a bravura performance of trill and counter trill was the black cap equivalent of two guys hurling abuse at one another.

Not to be left in the shade, a wren struck up its disproportionately loud party piece. How such a tiny body can produce such a volume and quantity of song is a mystery.

Further along the path the blackbirds had given up singing and were chattering their alarms call from branch to branch.  The reason became obvious as a dozing tawny owl opened a sleepy eye to see who was disturbing his snooze.

Sleepy Owl

 Stoats were playing scampering around the tree roots and generally the woodland seemed to have come alive with a small dose of sunshine.

Crossing from the woods to an old path through the fields, I came across a thrush's anvil - a stone used by a thrush to break snail shells.  It had been busy judging by the amount of discarded remnants of banded snail shells.

Thrush Anvil

 Back home by the burn with the blackthorn in full bloom and the chiff-chaff in full song. A pleasant stroll.

The promise of sloes for the gin this autumn