First winter fieldfare ( left) adult (right) Larksong fills the air.
Pink-footed geese, fly North, out of the sun and above me.
Distant pee-wit call of lapwing, and curlew.
A flock of starling in full voice, they’re noisy neighbours. Their dark forms show in the bare branches of an ash.
Pink-footed geese, fly North, out of the sun and above me.
Distant pee-wit call of lapwing, and curlew.
A flock of starling in full voice, they’re noisy neighbours. Their dark forms show in the bare branches of an ash.
Down in a thicket of hawthorn, a sheltered hollow- that’s where birds gather. This morning, starling are clamorous, almost drowning out fieldfare but I know their secret voices, I have long known them.
I cannot remember when first I knew fieldfare. The relationship feels mythic. Perhaps it’s the allure of North, those spring and summer months in Scandinavia, the wild places. I am eager for their return here in autumn They’re shy and elusive birds and that’s part of the allure.
Another mild day and the ground is soft, so the birds probe for insects, for worms. Moles are active at this time of year and there are clusters of freshly turned earth. The pasture is stippled with winter grasses and withered thistles and there’s a pale patch of straw where the farmer fed his ewes, their droppings provide insects
Until this last week I’ve found fieldfare in keeping to the safety of the high trees, or feeding on berries. Now the hawthorn berries must be almost gone and the birds forage on the ground, a change in their diet.
I cannot remember when first I knew fieldfare. The relationship feels mythic. Perhaps it’s the allure of North, those spring and summer months in Scandinavia, the wild places. I am eager for their return here in autumn They’re shy and elusive birds and that’s part of the allure.
Another mild day and the ground is soft, so the birds probe for insects, for worms. Moles are active at this time of year and there are clusters of freshly turned earth. The pasture is stippled with winter grasses and withered thistles and there’s a pale patch of straw where the farmer fed his ewes, their droppings provide insects
Until this last week I’ve found fieldfare in keeping to the safety of the high trees, or feeding on berries. Now the hawthorn berries must be almost gone and the birds forage on the ground, a change in their diet.
Aurally, there’s no mistaking starling and fieldfare. When the mixed flock takes to the tree tops their silhouettes don’t always distinguish them. Fieldfare flutter in the grass with a flash of pale underwing. But both starling and fieldfare show variations in their plumage. Starling plumage can be flecked and iridescent. A first- winter fieldfare is distinct from a more mature bird. My camera likes something clear to focus on, struggles with their plumage patterns and cryptic colouring amongst stems of winter grass that blend and blur with the ochre pattern on the breast, the belly paler than straw. Camouflage works, the camera is perplexed. A full-frontal view of a fieldfare can seem an odd aspect. The profile works best. Being hidden behind a stone wall I do not spook the birds but I’m still hoping they’ll come closer. Before they leave for their spring and summer breeding grounds, heading North.
RSS Feed