Cuckoo, wheatear, redstart on Scout Scar

Male wheatear singing on hawthorn

Rachel and Maurice set out early for Scout Scar, so I often meet them returning. And they're among my scouts. Yesterday,  two cuckoos were calling, we agree. This morning they heard a cuckoo and saw it fly off, harassed by a small bird. I am delighted for them, of course. It's all about sharing finds. Delighted, but if the cuckoo doesn't show up for me, sooner rather than later, I'll be miffed.
A humid and warm morning with clouds streaming  toward the sun. Finely worked  'cloths of Heaven.' 
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Nature finds are to be shared.  But let's be honest, there's also an element of  competition, with others and with myself.  There can never be perfection. There is no definitive  redstart image- light and composition will always be  a little different.   I find my bird and he's using the same two perches once more.  His display flight is a flicker of his flame tail as he rises into the air, and comes down to his perch.  I'm struck by his awesome and recent migration and the small territory he claims for himself in the hanging wood. My redstart is stunning.  If I seem like a doting parent  with endless photographs of her children I ask you to consider the subtle beauties of the bird, the secrets of  the woods in May and all the promise of spring that lies ahead of him.  Here is the perfect spot to watch him, looking down upon the hanging wood. 

The cloths of Heaven are whisked away to reveal an expanse of blue.  Cumulous clouds gather over the Howgills and I sit on an erratic to contemplate the view to the east.  A bird is singing  and I cannot  place the song.  I  look about me to see a wheatear, a bird  I  usually identify by its  call, its song is less familiar.  Wheatear is a bird of moorland and fell, of outcropping rocks where they breed  and  it's a treat to hear him in full song.  I rarely find them on Scout Scar but this male seeks a mate  in a lonely spot where there are rafts of limestone clitter and scattered ash and hawthorn.
Once in a while, there comes a gift of a bird, Heaven sent. Like the wheatear on the cover of Cumbrian Contrasts, and within.  For over half an hour he perched, sunlit against a blue sky,  shifting a little on his perch to show his wonderful breeding plumage in  fresh lights,  new aspects. 

Walking over rough limestone and short turf, I hear a cuckoo to the north.  And follow his call as I always do. There's  a dry-stone wall ahead of me and the bird is beyond it. Field-craft to my aid,  if I approach stealthily I can stay out of sight behind the wall and search for the cuckoo without alerting him to my presence.  He calls and calls, louder and closer,  so I home-in.  He calls to attract females, so he chooses a perch from which he's visible.  He's not high  in the mature ash and whitebeam.  And at last I find him in a hawthorn, not the most obvious display post but he is outlined against the sky.   After a while he flies, and I relocate him close by.
You can see his long tail, his yellow legs and feet, his yellow bill. And his finely, dark-barred white belly.  Delighted to see and photograph him comparatively early in his breeding season. That gives me the chance of seeing him again and improving on these images.  But you never know.   Dedication only takes me so far.  Chance and coincidence play a part too.  So I'm glad to compare notes with my scouts as we share spring on Scout Scar, this wonderful and fearful  spring of 2020. 
All three of today's birds are spring migrants.  The cuckoos season is shortest, he arrives in April and flies back to West Africa in early July. Since he plays no part in rearing his offspring he goes when his mating season is accomplished. 

 I recommend   A British Trust for Ornithology video - Identifying Chats: stonechat, whinchat, wheatear. It  includes their songs.