From Pen Y Ghent, heather moorland to the east Early April and for moorland birds the breeding season is underway. As we climb the south face of Pen Y Ghent a mosaic of heather stands is laid out below. Rotational burning ensures tender shoots for young red grouse to eat, and cover where the hen bird makes a scrape to lay her eggs- ten or more of them. Heather, crowberry and cowberry plants are half-hidden in snow. Fresh snow on Pen Y Ghent and crusts of old snow drifts trace the wall to Plover Hill. There's strong sunlight and a sky of blue. The air is full of larksong.
From Pen Y Ghent, we head north toward Plover Hill hoping for golden plover. We hear their plaintive call but cannot see them. East of the wall, the deep rich colour of heather habitat. A red grouse calls and raises its head above tussocks of grass to spy intruders, and dips out of sight. Its neck glows chestnut in perfect light.
Despite sunlight and a blue sky the morning is cold, our fingers chilly. Shake-holes are flooded with icy water and we skirt around long ribbons of bog, or cling to the wall and hope to keep clear of mud and ice. The moorland stirs with life: the imperative of spring and the breeding season. I love the resilience of wildlife whilst we're swathed in layers, eager to warm up with hot chocolate. To hear golden plover we must go bare-headed for a while. Being muffled-up in layers of headgear won't do.
A red grouse calls and breaks from the heather in a short flight, coming to rest on top of the wall just ahead.
Despite sunlight and a blue sky the morning is cold, our fingers chilly. Shake-holes are flooded with icy water and we skirt around long ribbons of bog, or cling to the wall and hope to keep clear of mud and ice. The moorland stirs with life: the imperative of spring and the breeding season. I love the resilience of wildlife whilst we're swathed in layers, eager to warm up with hot chocolate. To hear golden plover we must go bare-headed for a while. Being muffled-up in layers of headgear won't do.
A red grouse calls and breaks from the heather in a short flight, coming to rest on top of the wall just ahead.
I like a birding experience where sightings get better and better, and so it is. Two red grouse come down on a wall and one is clamorous in a sustained chorus of go-back, go-back, go-back. They appear back-lit and in silhouette but in strong sunlight the images show richer colour than we expect. Both have red wattles above the eyebrow, a feature of the cock bird emphasized in the breeding season. One flies down off the wall and sunlight shines scarlet through those erect and crinkly wattles. Flecks of snow on beak and brow from feeding. White-feathered legs insulate the red grouse and a spattering of white feathers on the belly looks like snow crystals. Translucent claws clutch the top stones.
Theirs is the heather habitat about Pen Y Ghent, it is their place. Stone walls protect the birds and there are no rights of way. Today, the red grouse come to us, flying up from the heather onto the top-stones of the wall that leads to Plover Hill. 'Oh for a life of sensation,' said Keats. Red grouse loud and intimate, their plumage enhanced by sunlight as white cloud bubbles up in a blue sky, the gold of grass and sedge, the crunch of old snow in drifts beside the wall and a soaking chill as a boot breaks through ice and dips deep into icy water. Immersed in the moment, you never know how many moments will be given, how long this close-encounter might last. A generous cache of photographs tells the story of the day, makes it last, reveals detail we do not see at the time.
Theirs is the heather habitat about Pen Y Ghent, it is their place. Stone walls protect the birds and there are no rights of way. Today, the red grouse come to us, flying up from the heather onto the top-stones of the wall that leads to Plover Hill. 'Oh for a life of sensation,' said Keats. Red grouse loud and intimate, their plumage enhanced by sunlight as white cloud bubbles up in a blue sky, the gold of grass and sedge, the crunch of old snow in drifts beside the wall and a soaking chill as a boot breaks through ice and dips deep into icy water. Immersed in the moment, you never know how many moments will be given, how long this close-encounter might last. A generous cache of photographs tells the story of the day, makes it last, reveals detail we do not see at the time.
I love to see and hear red grouse in heather moorland and coming home with a cache of images to study enriches the experience. A memorable day on Pen Y Ghent.
I was so intent on taking photographs I slipped my camera-phone into what I thought was a pocket and lost it. We stopped to check it really had gone. All along the way to Plover Hill there were stretches of icy bog that we circumvented, so we weren't hopeful of finding it. At that moment, walkers appeared over a stile. 'What's your name?' a man demanded. Then he handed me my phone - lucky it has a bright pink cover. What a relief! So my thanks to Mike Mason.
Click on images to see whole image and read subtitle
I was so intent on taking photographs I slipped my camera-phone into what I thought was a pocket and lost it. We stopped to check it really had gone. All along the way to Plover Hill there were stretches of icy bog that we circumvented, so we weren't hopeful of finding it. At that moment, walkers appeared over a stile. 'What's your name?' a man demanded. Then he handed me my phone - lucky it has a bright pink cover. What a relief! So my thanks to Mike Mason.
Click on images to see whole image and read subtitle
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