bunn: (Logres)
I came back to the house this morning to find a duel going on in the skies above it, between a heron and a buzzard.   The heron won.

I wonder what they could possibly have been arguing about?  The argument was rather loud. 
bunn: (Wild Garden)
I can't find my walking boots so ended up walking in socks and crocs and getting my feet soaked by dew in the long grass. A less unpleasant experience in the heat than it would be usually.

Incredibly loud liquid warblings from the hedge, produced by a very tiny wren that looked as if it should not possibly be able to produce such a mighty song.

A very tiny rabbit, poised in front of me in a gateway, staring into the shadow where I and the dogs stood with that innocence that very young rabbits have, limned with bright sunlight, with its long delicate ears glowing red with the sun behind it. It stood there for a very long moment, till Brythen snapped at a fly and it suddenly realised we might be dangerous and fled madly into the long grass, huge back feet flying, appearing not entirely under conscious control.
bunn: (canoeing)
On top of a fence post,
all covered in green
I photographed lichens
That evolved before the Eocene.

Read more... )
bunn: (Rosie Down Hole)
Pp let Rosie out into the garden for her late-night pee.  20 seconds later I hear barking growling and snarling in the garden, but by the time I had got over there, there was silence, and before I could find some shoes, she came hurtling back in again, with a cut on her nose and smelling VERY STRONGLY of some animal musk.

It doesn't smell like fox, so after some thought, I conclude that Rosie has probably encountered a badger in the garden.  Thank goodness she got away with only a cut.

Go AWAY badgers!   Rabbits in the garden I can tolerate, but I draw the line at carnivores with honking big claws. 
bunn: (Rosie Down Hole)
If Pp had not borrowed my car to take the Shop on the Borderlands to the Plymouth War-games show, I might have taken an Excursion, but as it was I just went out for a wander down the valley to admire the mist.  The snowdrops are almost out, but they're looking a little draggled.  But the mist and sky were beautiful.

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bunn: (canoeing)
Today we bunked off and went to Wacker Quay, to paddle up the river Lynher.  We tried to paddle the Lynher from Saltash before, but the wind and the current down at the mouth of the river defeated us.  So we thought we would try launching higher up.  It was pretty tranquil up there.

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bunn: (No whining)
Here. It asks things like 'choose a statement: I hate technology | I love technology'

THAT IS AN IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE.  I both loathe and love technology.  It is the yin-yang of my life.   What kind of insanely simplistic reality forces a choice like that?

Also 'It is better to : be yourself | be polite'.  Well, that would depend how much of an arsehole you habitually are.   If you are the kind of lovely person who is overly polite and nobody can work out whether you actually want a biscuit or a cup of tea, then for god's sake stop being so damn polite and just tell us what your biscuit choice is.  We really would prefer that.

 However, if like me you are the kind of person where everyone you know is already bored with your opinions and there is visible wincing when you open your mouth, sit down, shut up and work on the 'polite' thing.

I was a Neutral Good Human Ranger, which is,frankly, a very dull outcome, so I'm not posting the whole thing as I am sulking about it.

In other news, I heard a noise this morning that I did not recognise at first, a sort of slightly resonant rhythmic thud with a sort of slight crunch to it.  After a moment's confused listening, I worked out that it was a thrush hitting a snail on a stone.  That was once an utterly familiar, normal and domestic kind of sound, and I am somewhat shocked that things have now reached the stage where I hear woodpeckers and owls far more often than a thrush.

The poser

Aug. 26th, 2016 10:16 pm
bunn: (Wild Garden)
I wandered past the buddleia bush today with camera in hand, and half-raised it to point at a Red Admiral that was flittering past, before deciding it was too far away to make a good photo.  Then I looked down, and this chap landed approximately three inches from the camera lens and began... well.  Posing.  Flexing his proboscis, strutting with his little spiky legs and waving his stalkeyes.   So I photographed him.
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bunn: (Cat)
Police are searching for a Eurasian Lynx that escaped from Dartmoor Zoo overnight.  It had dug its way out of its enclosure after arriving yesterday.

I wonder if they will be able to find it, in this area of tangled woods, rivers, heathland and small meadows or if it will join the illicit beavers and Nobody Mention the wild boar as permanent residents.

That's assuming, of course, that we don't have lynx already.  I know the previous owner of the zoo was convinced that there were wild lynx in the area, but he was a bit nutty, so I'm not entirely convinced that the lynx he thought he had seen signs of weren't actually his own lynx who had popped out for a wander about before going home for lunch. :-D  On the other hand, the Legendary Dartmoor site has a very jolly list of big cat sightings on the moor, so who knows?  Maybe this one will join a breeding population.  After the Dangerous Wild Animals act in 1976, a number of cats of various kinds were released by private owners who were unable to meet the new license requirements, and some people think some of them have naturalised.

I just hope that if they do catch a lynx, it matches the description.  We had an incident a while ago with an escaped beaver, which when recaptured had apparently become several years younger and changed sex, which was just confusing for everyone :-D

I can live with wandering lynx, but I do hope they will keep a careful eye on the jaguar. 


Jan. 10th, 2016 08:23 pm
bunn: (Skagos)
 I was puzzled by the identity of these ducks today.  The one with the red face is male, and he is the sort of large, spectacularly ugly duck I often see hanging about on the slip at Calstock.  I had assumed that these were domesticated ducks, although I have had a look at the Websites of Duck Identification with no success.

Read more... )
bunn: (dog knotwork)

The squirrels of Tavistock are bold and brave, so bold indeed that they can be photographed reasonably adequately even with a phone.
I have tagged this wildlife, although I'm fairly sure that Rosie Roo would be very clear that it should be tagged 'prey'.    This park is an exciting place for lurchers.


Aug. 18th, 2015 02:28 pm
bunn: (Logres)
On Kit Hill this morning, I gallumphed among the heather and the golden stems of dried grass under deep blue skies, surrounded by clouds of tiny fluttering white moths.

For much of my walk. I was tormented by a particularly persistent and malignant horsefly which seemed bent on following me wherever I went, despite my feeble attempts to out-run it, my random irritated flailing and the rich selection of curses that I rained upon it and all its ilk .

It has been suggested that the more clothes you have on, the more savage the bugs.   If this is true, I dread to think what this one would have been like if I had encountered it while wearing a coat.  Possibly I would have had to fight it off with a spear.

Anyway, in between the flailing, thwacking, etc,  I considered this problem and came up with MANY THEORIES:
Read more... )
bunn: (Wild Garden)
Yesterday's score: zero.

I tried a count this morning, but a single gatekeeper seemed such a feeble result that I think I'll have another go later on and hope the butterflies have just got up late.
bunn: (Brythen)
I went to Greenscombe wood this morning.
Read more... )
bunn: (Rosie Runs)
At first, she flew joyfully after them
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bunn: (dog knotwork)
As I walked dogs this morning, I felt I was being watched...
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bunn: (Wild Garden)
I took a photo of this a few weeks ago because I didn't recognise it. I expect to recognise trees - at least, trees growing in a context that says 'I am a native tree!' like this one.  Later, I found the photo and thought 'what was that tree anyway?'  So I typed things vaguely into Google, but had no luck.  Then the word 'Alder'  came into my head, and then the word 'buckthorn'. And so it appears to be.   Yet I would have sworn I did not know that tree.

 Bad brain, no biscuit.
bunn: (Trust me)
Went to visit some otters today, at the Tamar Otter Centre.   The main job of this place is taking in young otters that have been orphaned and looking after them until they are old enough to release, so most of the otters we saw were British otters.  Apparently female British otters are terribly fierce, and specialise in beating up all the male otters, even though the males are much bigger.  And orphan baby otters are surprisingly tame and will stay close to their human while they are growing up.  And they hate learning to swim!

I think this was my favorite photo I took of an otter.
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bunn: (Brythen)
Walked through the red dunes and down through the beechwoods around the old Clitters mine to the river.  Skies a pale grey, but only one brief shower.  The hounds and I sheltered under a leaning tree, and the rain passed over before the water made its way through the leaves.
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bunn: (Beach)
Randomly we went to Rame Head: a long tall bulge of land pointing out into the sea.
 It has a little building on it that from a distance looks like a chapel.  Wikipedia calls it an 'intact shell' and says it is dedicated to St Michael, but at close quarters, it is fairly clear that the people who are mostly using it nowadays are equine.  Possibly they still say horsy prayers to St Michael for providing them with a horse-shelter with such fine views.
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bunn: (Default)

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