12 November, Scout Scar escarpment Two days ago, a flock of thirty fieldfare flew calling above Scout Scar escarpment, the sun glinting their pale underwings. I could hear them somewhere in the trees below the cliff but the wind grew loud and drowned them out.
Fieldfare on a fine November morning, if I can find them. Ten years ago I watched a flock foraging on yew berries on the cliff buttress, a pale flutter of wings against dark yew foliage. Holly and hawthorn berries might tempt them, so I'm tracking their food sources looking for winter thrush.
Fieldfare on a fine November morning, if I can find them. Ten years ago I watched a flock foraging on yew berries on the cliff buttress, a pale flutter of wings against dark yew foliage. Holly and hawthorn berries might tempt them, so I'm tracking their food sources looking for winter thrush.
Sunday 12th and the morning is bright and cold. The light is remarkable, a clear cold light come on a north-west wind. It brings the trees alive, conferring character, showing them reaching out to each other. It's momentary and a seasonal effect. A buzzard, a raven- I scan the tops of larch and Scots pine but not a trace of fieldfare. There are yew berries but the crop is not abundant this year. All across Helsington Barrow I go, in search of winter thrush. But nothing. I stand beneath a splendid oak tree looking at the play of light and shadow within the tree. Once-upon- a- time, I heard a female cuckoo gurgling amongst the oak leaves. Some years, the tree has catkins, some years not. All the while I'm listening for fieldfare, and looking for food-sources that might attract them.
How can I go home without a sighting of winter thrush when I know they're here somewhere! So I head off Scout Scar and retrace my footsteps. My last chance is the wood-pasture of the dip slope west of Bradleyfield Farm. And at last I hear them. I hide behind a wall and a gate-stoup and watch the flock fluttering to take hawthorn berries, and close to me in a hedgerow. The sun falls on a beautiful bird revealing its colour. I see the flock in flight beyond the hawthorn, across the pastures of the dip slope. They favour this quiet place which they share only with sheep.
I love the fluidity of the seasons, how hazel catkins tell of the coming of spring even before winter is upon us. I'm hearing the last notes of fieldfare as I'm seeing a cold blue sky with hazel thick with catkins.
Before writing, I watch a BTO identification video on winter thrush which I recommend.
I love the fluidity of the seasons, how hazel catkins tell of the coming of spring even before winter is upon us. I'm hearing the last notes of fieldfare as I'm seeing a cold blue sky with hazel thick with catkins.
Before writing, I watch a BTO identification video on winter thrush which I recommend.
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