Male stonechat with food for his young Cuckoo, at last! Heard none in the Yorkshire Dales this last fortnight, none by Shap Abbey and Knipe Scar, none on Scout Scar- although my scouts reported hearing the bird. So this morning I lingered and lingered, heard the cuckoo faintly in the distance, and at last quite close. The call of the cuckoo defines the coming of spring. Without it, nothing is the same. Without it, we're in trouble with species loss and habitat loss. I was out at 6.00am this week, when once the volume of bird song would have been loud. The diminution is apparent.
I glimpsed the cuckoo on a favourite perch of his I know. Then he was gone.
The alarm call of a pair of stonechat alerted me to their presence. Both parents had their beaks stuffed with insects and were still calling to their chicks to be silent. They would not approach the nest until I had moved right away. Looking at those stonechat images I wonder how many insects each bird's beak might hold. After all, puffin dive deep and can bring half a dozen sand eels home to the burrow.
The alarm call of a pair of stonechat alerted me to their presence. Both parents had their beaks stuffed with insects and were still calling to their chicks to be silent. They would not approach the nest until I had moved right away. Looking at those stonechat images I wonder how many insects each bird's beak might hold. After all, puffin dive deep and can bring half a dozen sand eels home to the burrow.
The morning began with overcast cloud, then spotlights roved over Scout Scar and hearing a skylark begin to sing I looked up, hoping to see him rise against the blue sky. He sang loudly, but I could not see him. Then found him perched on a dead tree and singing. It's rare to find a skylark singing from a tree. Usually, he sings in display flight - defining his territory, displaying to his mate.
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