An eventful birthday

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me...

Another computer gave up on me!

But I've got it back now.

Problem is, I go a couple of weeks without blogging and there's just so, so much to catch up on.

Let's start at the end. Today. My 47th birthday.
Wild celebrations don't really happen any more, I'm just happy to have a quiet day with Sue.

It was someone else's birthday too, Thorne's Beekeeping Supplies. A full 53 years older than myself. They had a centenary celebration on today and we had pre-ordered some sale goodies. So we headed up to their rather grandiose home in the Lincolnshire Wolds .

Thorne's shop

Even the oil drums had a bee theme!



Can you believe this fool is now 47?



Inspiration for bee-friendly plants

The museum was fascinating, as was a look around the factory.
All the machines are made for purpose, some being 80 years old.

We returned to the farm late afternoon. I was severely tempted to divert to the North Norfolk coast where a most unusual arrival of several Two-Barred Crossbills from Scandinavia was occurring. But none stayed long enough to tempt me. So instead I spent an hour of my birthday picking the last of the red gooseberries. Prickly!

 

I nearly forgot not to feed the pigs. For this evening we had the job of cajoling two rather stubborn pigs into the livestock trailer ready to go on a little journey in the morning. We are quite well practised at this now, but it always has its stresses. The basic plan is to keep the pigs hungry so they follow the bucket of food down to the waiting trailer.

This works well for about a minute, until they discover the lush grass which grows outside their pen. But we know this will happen, so we bring Daisy with them. She knows the way and they will stick with her.

Today we managed the first part of the operation with incredible smoothness. One pig was left in the pen - this is the lucky one who gets to reach its first birthday before it goes off, in the winter, as a baconer. There was no selection process. Just the last pig to go through the gate.


A stay of execution for this girl.



These two follow Daisy and Sue toward their fate.



   

From there it was a race up the land to the stable area and into the (very) small yard, where the trailer was waiting, door open and ramp enticingly covered in straw. I strewed it with food, but to no avail. This was no surprise. Getting them to make the final climb into the trailer is always a stressful experience. 

The sticking point.
That ramp is a no go area.



We didn't really want Daisy in there too, so we led her back to join the other piglet.

Daisy heads back to her pen,

leaving two worried and

tetchy piglets behind.



But, as has happened in the past, this was the cue for the doomed couple to get a little tetchy. So  much so that they broke through a fence and headed back down toward their pen,

There followed fifteen minutes of fraught efforts to get back to where we had been already been (no photos, too fraught!)

The fence was reinforced (Well, I leaned a couple of sturdy pallets up against it) to prevent further breakouts and we patiently edged the piglets up the ramp and into the trailer.

I make this sound easier than it actually is!

So tomorrow morning we'll be off to the abattoir bright and early. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get them to leave that trailer when we get there. Not that they know what's coming.

That just left enough time to top and tail those gooseberries ready for the freezer before sitting down to a late birthday dinner with Sue - lasagna made with our own lamb and vegetables, including the first of this year's courgettes - oh yes, the glut has already started.

Then a celebratory cake, topped with today's picking of raspberries and a rather OTT firework display thingy-me-jig from the pound shop, complete with sparklers, candles and a rather metallic version of happy birthday which repeated several dozen times until we finally managed to break the device!

So that was today. And after all that, I have to say I actually do feel a year older.

Over the next few days I'll be bringing you up to date with everything that's been happening - hot, hot weather, swarming bees, broody chickens, egg-straw-din-ary goings on with the guineafowl, the start of the harvest, the arrival of a most unexpected new member of the family and, as if I wasn't busy enough, another trip to the Hebrides chasing birds. It's all been happening.

 

Unbridled. Success!



Bridled Tern, courtesy of trip photographer, Josh Jones

Three days of sunshine and dry air meant there was only one thing for it. Make hay while the sun shines. Well, not quite. But mow all the lawns at least.

This is a gargantuan task made far easier when the grass is completely dry.

So there I was, chasing the geese up and down, not a care in the world, oblivious to all else, when I look up and see the postie on the back lawn waving a parcel in the air. I hoped he'd not been standing there too long.
Then I hear, from my inside pocket, beep, beep, beep.
Now there are many contraptions these days which bleep at you, but this triple beep meant only one thing. I'd failed to hear the mad wailing of my pager going into mega mode. I rummaged through my pockets for my pager, expecting it to reveal the presence of a bird I'd probably already seen. After all, I've already had five ticks this year, a ridiculous number, and to ask for another on the back of June's outrageous Swift double would be just greedy.
And there it was. The message:

MEGA N'berland BRIDLED TERN ad Farne Islands on Inner Farne at 2:45pm

If you've read my blog before, this may ring a bell, for at the end of my post about the magnificent Pacific Swift (see here) I wrote these prophetic words:

It's been a good year so far. Four (lifers) already and there's still the autumn to come. But before that I'm hoping for a Bridled Tern, preferably somewhere near.

It wasn't particularly close, but this had to be good, for Inner Farne is part of a small group of islets offshore between Bamburgh and Seahouses. I've visited Inner Farne twice before, many years ago, and well remember the throng of seabirds which line the cliffs, the puffins standing in serried ranks on the walls of old buildings, flying in with mouthfuls of sand eels, the arctic terns bouncing around and pecking at the heads of visitors to usher them away from their eggs or chicks which sat in the grass just beside the footpath. Last time I visited the islands I had seen my first ever Roseate Terns.
Fond memories indeed.

Back to the present, and that colony of Arctic Terns made this Bridled a likely sticker. There have been several Bridled Terns since I began twitching, but none has lingered long enough to be seen by many, not for over 20 years. Although it has always been a much more likely bird to catch up with, in modern times this bird has in fact been almost as difficult to connect with as the two monster swifts of recent weeks.

I looked at my phone. Four missed calls! I need a better mower, one where I can plug my gadgets into the dashboard!
Then it rings again. Josh Jones. "There's a Bridled Tern on The Farnes". ... "But it's flown off now."

As far as I knew it had been there for about a quarter of an hour before moving off. Was this enough to jump straight in the car and start the long journey North? I could probably be there around 7pm. But then would I be able to get a boat? Would it be a wasted journey?
A few years back there would have been no erring. I would have been straight in the car. But I am less impulsive now, more considered (slightly). I resolved to wait for further news. If the bird did return today, it would surely be very likely to be there tomorrow as well, particularly as a visitor to the island had reportedly seen "that bird" the day before.
I climbed back on the ride-on with renewed energy, glancing at my pager every few minutes.

3:32 No further sign by 3:18

4:53  Still no further sign by 4:30

5:12  a boat is planned from Seahouses at 6:30pm this evng in search of the Bridled Tern

Just imagine if I'd impulsively set off. I'd already have been driving for over two hours on negative news, only to receive the news that the boat would be leaving about half an hour before I'd be arriving. What a great decision to carry on mowing the lawns.

With that job done, I began moving the electric fence which pens in the lambs. Every week they get a new area of succulent grass to feast upon. Sue came home and helped me move the fence when...

6:25  BRIDLED TERN ad again 6:18pm Farne Islands on Inner Farne showing well.

If only I'd left on that first message. Who knows. I might have made that 6:30 boat!

My phone leapt into action, which rather complicated the task of moving the sheep fence. It wasn't long before I had a car full of passengers. At 10:30pm I was to drive to Wansford, just off the A1 to pick up Josh (trip photographer), another old friend who shall remain nameless and possibly another (turned out to be David Campbell aka Devilbirder). Then up to Doncaster to pick up Will Soar.

I hastily rearranged work, thanks to a very kind and understanding boss (thanks Sue) and made my preparations for an overnight journey.

Staying awake overnight is not as easy as it used to be, but the prospect of a lifer at the end of it keeps the energy levels up, as well as catching up with friends (as long as they don't all fall asleep on you! (David and Will!!))

So it was that at some time after 3am we pulled up in the car park at Seahouses and looked out longingly toward the line of low islets offshore. There was already plenty of light in the sky and the unnamed birder set up his telescope in the vague hope of picking up the Bridled Tern in flight at ridiculous distance. The rest of us put our heads down for a while.

It's been a while since I took a sunrise photo.

By 5am the car park was getting fuller and distant friends were busy regaling each other with stories of twitches from old times or idle twitter gossip from more recent times. By 5.30 the crowd was edging nervously toward the ticket booking kiosks. I was near the front and people kept putting money in my hand to buy them a ticket. Fortunately Will Soar was ahead of me (he is small and good at finding his way to the front!) so I passed the money forward and told him how many tickets to buy, trying to remember whose money it was. It wasn't long before Will emerged from the throng waving a green ticket aloft. Nine happy boat passengers.
It's a bit of a tired blur, but at some point during this early morning confusion we had received news from the island rangers that the bird was still present in the tern roost on the rocks by the jetty. A guarded excitement swept through the crowd.

We filed down the jetty and onto the boat for the short and perfectly flat crossing across to Inner Farne. As we chugged ever closer to the rocks the sea became full of auks, guillemots, razorbills and, everybody's favourite, puffins. They bobbed on the surface, diving for cover as the boat passed or scampering away across the surface of the water.

We rounded the tip of the island and binoculars were raised expectantly. As we approached the jetty, there stood the four rangers surrounded by a throng of Arctic Terns. They weren't all looking through their binoculars. They weren't jumping up and down excitedly. They weren't pointing. And nobody on board was able to pick out the bird, either wheeling around in the air or perched on the rocks.
It looked as if we would be in for a tense wait. One of the rangers came down to the boat and announced that the bird was still there, on the rocks. We patiently filed off the boat in an orderly fashion and ambled up the jetty (NOT!). I was near the front, perilously close to the edge. I raised my binoculars and was relieved to almost instantly set my eyes on the bird, nestled down on the rocks, partially obscured.

Not such a heart-pounding bird as the Pacific Swift or the White-throated Needletail, it has to be said, but a beautiful and elegant bird indeed.
It soon took to the air and circled round with the masses of Arctic Terns, settling back down every now and again before taking to the air. A couple of times it disappeared over the brow of the hill, only to reappear a minute or so later.
Now, I'm a bit rubbish at picking out bird calls, especially when the air is full of screeching Arctic Terns and Eiders oooo and aaargh from the sea. But the Bridled Tern had a surprisingly gull-like call which even my half deaf old ears could recognise.

A couple of times the Bridled Tern came right over the small crowd amassed on the jetty
before it disappeared over the hill for one last time.

We had been treated to ten minutes of rarity elegance. More time would have been nicer, and the photographers would have liked better light, but we were a very happy bunch of birders. For the second time in a week we had found ourselves enjoying excellent views of a very rare bird in a wonderful location.

A happy bunch of birders prepare to leave the island.

While we waited, hoping for a reappearance of the tern, everybody took advantage of the opportunity to watch the puffins and arctic terns at such close quarters. Unfortunately we weren't allowed up onto the main part of the island. Quite rightly access is strictly limited to keep a balance between allowing the public to see such a spectacle and protecting the breeding birds of the island.

Anyway, the rangers did a great job and I'm sure every birder who has made the journey over would like to thank them for making arrangements for us to land on the jetty and for keeping everybody so well informed as to the presence of the bird.

Their helpfulness and hospitality were refreshing. The rangers maintain an excellent photoblog. It's well worth a visit. I'm sure there'll be some mouthwatering photos of the Bridled Tern on it, as well as many pictures of the islands' other resident seabirds.

Thanks must also go to the boat operators. They went out of their way to get birders to the island and must have grown a little weary of their phones constantly on the go. I know that one of them, whose phone ran out of battery, was calling people back right up till midnight to help them out, even though he was getting up to take another boatload out early in the morning.

A celebratory drink and bun for one lucky birder.
The bridled tern was both more elegant and more good looking.

And so it was that, by way of a cooked breakfast in Seahouses (they were slightly overwhelmed by the sudden and unexpected rush in trade!) we headed back south. I rolled back onto the farm at half past two in the afternoon and in no time at all I was fast asleep on the sofa, dreaming of the next bird.

It's been a good year so far. Six (lifers) already and there's still the autumn to come. But before that I'm hoping for a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater, preferably somewhere near.

A quick update on everything on the smallholding

Pigs

The pigs are all healthy and eating us out of house and home as usual. They have put on a sudden spurt of growth which prompted me to pay a visit to the butcher last week! Two will be going on a little journey at the beginning of the summer holiday. One will be spared for a while, to go off for bacon in the winter, and Daisy's future is still a matter of discussion between Sue and I.

Two of their sisters who I sold have already gone, but ours grow more slowly as they spend all their time chasing each other.

Guineas

At the last count, there were 65 guineafowl eggs hidden in the grass. But still every evening eleven birds roost on the fence so none is sitting ... yet.

The guineafowl have, however, discovered the strawberries. Not just ours, but Don's too. They have always been allowed to wander free and have never previously caused too much damage. For now, the strawberries will be netted and we will monitor the situation.

Chickens

The chickens all seem happy at the moment. We are getting about a dozen eggs a day. A few have shown signs of broodiness but have given up when we keep taking their eggs. Elvis, who we want to go broody, has most unusually shown little inclination to sit. Shame, as we were rather hoping to hatch out some blue eggs.

Geese

The geese have finally given up on their efforts to hatch an egg. Maybe next year they'll have more success. So for now they are back out in the paddock to keep the grass down. They have quickly settled into their new routine and every evening wait at the gate to waddle in line into the stable for the night. One goes on the right of the divider, the rest go on the left.

The poor girls who spent so long sitting on the nest are slowly getting back into condition.

Ducks Still waddling.

Sheep 

The sheep have settled in to living in their new home, up in the pasture, where they are beginning to make an impact on the grass. The one who had the limp is now completely better and they are all growing fast. I accidentally left the electric fence off last night and one got out, but it didn't go far. They are happy where they are as long as they have fresh grass.

Bees
Who knows! They are now closed down for a few weeks. All we can see is this unusual cluster at the bottom of the hive. We think they're clustering around newly built queen cells. With luck both hives will successfully manage to make a queen which mates successfully. We'll know if they have been successful if there are eggs when we next open them.

Owls
The owls continue to delight us, more and more during the day. I saw a young one being fed the other day. Once in a while I hear the swallows causing a commotion and look up to see a dumpy Little Owl being pursued by a line of graceful but angry swallows.
Not such good news with the Barn Owls. There seem to be very, very few about. It seems that their boxes have been taken over by Jackdaws.
Trees
A couple of weeks ago I spent some time assessing the young woodland trees. If you remember, this job was interrupted by the arrival of a Pacific Swift in Suffolk. Most are doing well, though we suffered a few losses. By next year they should be looking more like small trees than weedy saplings.
The Ash saplings all seem to be doing well. Time will tell whether the threat from Ash dieback is as serious as it seemed last year.

 

Orchard

The orchard trees, all planted two winters ago, are beginning to flourish. We should get a more significant amount of fruit this year. However, pollination was patchy, especially of the cherries and plums. Goodness knows where our bees were going to get their food, but they studiously ignored all of my and Don's offerings.

Soft Fruit

All the soft fruit is developing nicely. It looks like being a bumper year for gooseberries. I really look forward to this annual treat. The other fruit that should be ready early is the strawberries, but I seem to have very little ripe fruit this year. Neighbours and friends are already harvesting.

However, as alluded to above, I think I've discovered the reason.

Those pesky guineafowl seem to have found the fruit before me. The netting will have to come out.

Vegetables



Runners struggling to get going



Beans n Peas : Every year is different in the world of vegetable growing. Last year beans and peas, if the young shoots got past the slugs, did well. This year, nobody's beans are coming up fast. The weather has been too cool and they could do with a bit more (warm) rain.

The broad beans, though, have loved the cool weather.

 

Roots : Parsnips are flourishing again. Carrots are patchy again, but much better than last year. The experiment to sow carrots into a bed of mixed annual flowers has backfired somewhat as the weeds grew first. This happened with the other beds which I reserved just for the flowers. It's impossible to get in there with the rotavator or even the hoe. Still, a few weeks of selective weeding may just reveal some pleasant hidden treasures.  

Spuds : I'm a bit worried about the spuds. The tops are looking good, but it's been a bit dry at the crucial time when the tubers should be forming. I dug up one of my Earlies a couple of weeks ago and there were no tubers at all! Those I grew in bags had a disappointing yield too. I'll have to make changes for next year.

However, I'm still pretty confident that the outdoor crops will come good. I probably just need to be patient. They did go in a little later than I hoped and I did not get to chit them properly as the house was in such a mess with the building works. 

Brassicas : This year I've actually got round to transplanting the young brassicas into the veg beds outside and they've even got protection. They'd better work, or I'll be giving up on them.

 

As you can see, I've even gone to the effort of making collars for them out of old carpet underlay. This, in theory, should stop them being devastated by cabbage root fly.

House

Work on the house is almost finished. We're still waiting for the scaffolding to come down and there's a couple of jobs for the plumber to finish off (it's only been six months since he first came!) All we need to do now is decorate every room. That'll be in our spare time then!



NEEDLETAIL! The highs and lows of twitching.

Needletail. Thanks to Josh Jones for letting me use his photos.

There we were on the hard shoulder of the M6, a couple of hundred yards short of Gretna services. The blue lights were still flashing through the back window as Dan continued his futile attempts to start the car. We were due to fly out from Inverness in about 6 hours time.
In our minds, though no-one dared speak it, were thoughts of the air fare going down the drain and the chance of a Needletail going with it.

A Needletail.  Dream bird.

If only the rear plate light had been working, we would not have been pulled over and we would still be hurtling our way towards Inverness Airport.
As it was, we were entertaining thoughts of the most disappointing breakdown ever. If necessary, we would have dumped the car in the services and found a way, any way, to get to Inverness. But time was against us and we just had to be on that flight.
No way could we even contemplate this costing us a Needletail.

A knock on the window and it was the friendly police officer suggesting that we try bump starting it, but to keep out of the way of the lorries. So, protected by the still flashing blue lights, Dan and I put our all into pushing the car along the hard shoulder. After several miles (well, it felt like that anyway) we had to stop. A heart attack really would spoil our chances of seeing a Needletail in the UK.

But Josh thought we should give it one more go. He thought the car just might start. So we did. And it did.

Crisis averted. Fair to say we would not be stopping again before we got to Inverness.

Just in case you're wondering what all the fuss was about... Needletail, fastest bird in the world, ultra, ultra rare, enigmatic, likely to disappear at any moment, but on the lists of so many of the old birders. Needletail. The ultimate catch-up bird. Needletail. White-throated Needletail.
And so soon on the heals of the Pacific Swift. Unbelievable.

So, at seven in the morning there we were, checked in, through security and taking full advantage of the Executive Lounge. Yes, that's right. The Executive Lounge! With free newspapers, free sweets, free coffee, free cakes. One of us even had a free Bailey's!

Our plane - taken from the comfort of The Executive Lounge!

Free grub!

Not our usual style of travel, but booking the flights last minute meant we had no choice but to choose luxury.
We wasted no time in lowering the tone of the place.

The flight was short and a good job too. We were all absolutely hyped up for this bird. I couldn't keep still and my heart was racing (maybe something to do with the six shots of espresso macchiato I enjoyed in the Executive Lounge.) 

Only at the weekend I was telling relatives how the Outer Hebrides were my favourite place to see rare birds in the whole of Britain, not quite expecting that just a few days later I would be coming in to land at Stornoway Airport.

Approaching Stornoway

As we landed we received news that the bird was still there. GET IN! But a Needletail can disappear as fast as it appears and the job was not done yet. The news did nothing to calm us down and we were quickly into the hire car and I held tight as we took a leisurely drive down to Tarbert village on the Island of Harris - not actually separate from the Isle of Lewis. I don't get why it has another name.

We pulled up by the road overlooking the village at half past nine, where a small group of familiar birders stood looking strangely subdued. We baled out of the car before facing with the slow realisation that this morning's positive news had been an incompetent misinterpretation of a delayed twitter message - well, something like that, all a bit vague, Chinese whispers.

As the news sank in and we stood searching in vain for a flying bullet to appear over the village, the mood change was extreme, from tense excitement to desperate hope and despair. I dug deeply into my store of Stoicism. If they were all guaranteed, the edge would be taken off everything. Every now and then we need a dip to keep the successes special. The lows make the highs even better...
But a Needletail. Of all the birds to dip, a Needletail on the Outer Hebrides would surely test the resolve of the most optimistic of twitchers.

Just then, a phone call. STILL HERE. Over the loch just up the road. A scramble and then, THERE! THAT'S IT. Coming towards us. A brief view before we lost it. But seconds later it hurtled past.

Absolutely awesome. The low points of the last hour made it all the better. That dip could wait just a little while longer.

It had been an eventful lead up, but things were to take yet more twists and turns.
It wasn't long before we settled down to watching the Needletail as it gave great views twisting and turning over the loch.

It really was a cracker of a bird. But nothing was to prepare us for what happened next, as it began to hunt directly over our heads. At one point it flew straight at me and skimmed not six inches over my head. This went on for some time. It would head off to the other end of the loch, or soar over the hill opposite, but every time it came back to give absolutely stunning views. Sheer power. Sheer grace. A totally enigmatic bird giving literally  hair-raising views.

It's not often a mega rare shows this well.
(Thanks Dan for the photo)

The twenty or so birders present had all seen many, many special birds, but all were in agreement that this was really special. Something that none of us would ever forget.

Views don't get much better than this.
Photos courtesy of Josh Jones

Once or twice the bird flirted with danger with passing cars, but its supreme speed got it out of trouble. The weather warmed up slightly and the bird spent more time scything through the air scooping up the flies as they rose higher. Friends who had opted to come over on the boat should be arriving soon, bit this type of bird has a history of rising higher and just disappearing round a corner. But the bird still regularly returned to show off. Then, as it split the air just above our heads causing oohs and aaarghs, a jet did the same, skimming the top of the hill behind us before roaring over the loch and disappearing into the distance and over the mountains.
The bird was clearly spooked. It briefly disappeared before returning to give us a final by-pass and display of prowess. But it then headed off to the far end of the loch before disappearing round the corner. The arrivals off the boat were still inexplicably some way off (a delay in docking it turned out) and it wasn't looking good for them. Some forty minutes later they arrived. The bird had still not returned.

We said some brief "hellos" but didn't want to rub it in too much, so bade our farewells and headed off toward the airport very, very happy.

A great bird in a great place, good company, stunning views and to top it all both Josh and Chris had managed to capture stunningly good images.

Back at Stornoway terminal, the images went whirring into the ether of the internet, which was soon buzzing with admiration for the images.
News came through, too, that the Needletail had been relocated over moorland several miles to the south. So all who put in the effort had connected.

The flight back was a chance to crash out and for the body to begin recovering. The car started at the first time of asking and we began the journey South.

It wasn't long, though, before the final twist in the story. I glanced at my pager to see the message:

W. Isles    White-throated Needletail till c5.45pm Harris SSE of Tarbert then appeared to be hit by wind turbine.

Three minutes later, it was confirmed that the bird had been picked up dead.

Everybody was in shock. The memory of this beautiful, powerful and enigmatic bird was still freshly etched into our minds and the poor thing had come to a most unfortunate end. Our emotions were really being put through the wringer today.

The news slowly sunk in.

As one post put it:

"VERY VERY sad news indeed. RIP my friend though safe in the knowledge that you gave several lucky people the best day of their life today."

 

 

After stopping off near Pitlochry to admire a singing male Common Rosefinch, I caught up on some much needed sleep as we headed south. I eventually got back just before four in the morning. Three hours until the alarm would be waking me up for work.

 

I wonder what the next adventure will be.