After overnight snow and rain it was good to get out into the cemetery and woodland burial ground. Despite being overcast and cold there was still plenty of colour with a few fungi. Again quiet on the bird front with only 12 species, the best being a goldcrest and a sparrowhawk which exploded out of the hedge next to me and sped down the woodland burial ground ride, panicing all the small birds as it went with a blackbird being very vociferous in its disapproval.
Although still testing positive for Covid (faintly) but feeling much better I took the opportunity of a beautiful day to go for a self-isolating walk along the Freshney. Although lovely and very sunny weather it was definitely colder than of late and frost and snow are forecast for later in the week. I would doubt that we shall get snow, though. Things were very quiet on the bird front despite seeing 21 species and I was surprised to find a common darter still on the wing, obviously surviving due to the mild autumn. We met up with a photography friend, Alan Greensmith and he agreed that things were very quiet here and also at Far Ings where he is a volunteer warden. It was good to catch up. The fallen tree that has completely blocked the path for the last few years has finally been cleared away, so it was pleasant to be able to complete a proper round walk.
A meet up with Malcolm and Maureen today as Frampton is about half way between us. The usual ritual of coffee was indulged in and then we went for a wander around the reserve, walking as far as the sea wall and then back to the 360 Hide and the Reedbed Hide. Although we didn't see quite as many species as normal, it was a good day with 31. Flocks of golden plover and lapwings numbering into 4 figures cointinually took to the air, whirling in graceful and complicated patterns. Similar flocks of brent geese came and went like V bomber squadrons, grumbling gruffly amongst themselves. Later a flight of whooper swans flew across towards the Witham. The usual stonechats did their normal thing of sitiing up on fence posts and then flitting just ahead of us. It was good to see marsh harrier hunting at the beginning and end of the day. I was also pleased to see both red kite and buzzard at West Ashby, near Horncastle, on the way.
Having been to see the Illegal Eagles on Saturday and been moved by thier last song Last Resort, I looked up the lyrics and read what Don Henley and Glenn Fry were trying to portray when they wrote it as long ago as 1976: the self destruction of a nation where industry and commerce destroy beautiful places. I find it especially poignant with the election of the new president.
In order to soothe my soul somewhat, I went for an autumn walk around the cemetery and woodland burial ground. Although the usual overcast prevailed, it was flat calm and still and autumn leaves fell from the trees like sporadic rain. Just beautiful. Autumn keeps on giving this year. I was struck by just how much the colours of the leaves I brought home match that of the autumn weaving I am engaged in.
After a smashing, perfectly proportioned breakfast, we walked along the Wharfe to Kettlewell and back. Another section of the Dales Way, but the sole of my boot came off. Not good!!
