Apologies for the late publication of July Ramblings. Horrid of Henbury and Dot the Dog
reported bang on time so the shame lies with us at the webteam. Must try better!!
Occasional Notes from a Dog Walker
July 2024
July began as June ended. Wet much of the time.
The maize crop in the big field loved it – inches of growth in two or three days.
Twelve (at least – that was all I could count as they jostled around) starlings hit the suet pellets on the bird table. Mostly adults but several obvious juveniles, presumably a second brood. Not quite enough for a murmuration. A jackdaw fed a young one in our neighbours' cherry tree. The bullfinches and long-tailed tits showed up with family.
At last a sunny afternoon and Dot the Dog and I set off over the fields. The boss bovine (a greyish-brown and white steer) put his head over the fence to inspect us. He allowed me to stroke his nose for a few moments before returning to his pals who had followed him. He seems to be the one who sets off first and then the others tag on. It brought to mind the early '60s pop song (pre- Beatles) "Leader of the Pack", sung by, I think, the Shirrelles and the best bit was the roar of a Harley-Davidson revving up at the beginning!
The following day produced a damp afternoon. S and I went to the Green to check the wildflowers. First glance from the gate looked unpromising but as we walked up the hill there was plenty to see – ragged robin, knapweed, a few orchids still in flower, ox-eye daisies (particularly behind the sundial). There was pink mallow beside the sundial and again behind it an uninvited but welcome evening primrose. Dropwort had practically taken over the bog area and looked (and smelt) beautiful. Having noted the lack of butterflies last month we were delighted to see a couple of small tortoiseshells, a meadow brown and a common blue. Fruit was set on the apple trees.
The day after was warm and sunny and on our afternoon walk DtD and I saw several day-flying moths (she wanted to chase them). I found them hard to identify because they were not still for long, and I had to look them up, but I think they were "Chimney Sweepers" – very dark brown to black with a tiny white spot on the wingtip. We had seen them before over the years. There were also a couple of butterflies, but too far away to identify positively – probably tortoiseshells.
Then more rain. I thought of looking up the Book of Genesis to get instructions for building an Ark.
The feral pigeons continued to visit, mostly foraging under the bird feeders for odd bits the smaller birds had dropped. However, one enterprising individual (black and white with bright red legs – very handsome) had worked out it could get its beak through the squirrel guard on one of the feeders with frantic wing fluttering and get seed (lots) – we decided to "live and let live".
Another damp morning and Dot the Dog and I set out over the fields. From a distance I saw twenty or so soil heaps that looked like mole hills, all in a group. DtD was very curious so we went to investigate. Each pile of earth had a small excavation beside it and she was clearly on the trail of a scent. I thought the wet weather had brought the earthworms up near the surface and Brock the Badger had been having an overnight feast – we knew he or she must have been about having seen the distinctive pawprints in the mud, but we had no idea where the sett might be (and if we did we'd keep very quiet about it).
St Swithin's (Swithun's?) day dawned bright, hot and sunny. It rained later but a few hot and bright days followed – the legend properly destroyed.
A brimstone butterfly fluttered past the kitchen window – one of the very few we had seen this year. Apparently bats are struggling because of the lack of nocturnal insects. Even in daytime the insect-eating birds seemed few and far between – only an occasional swallow or swift. Forty-odd years ago the house opposite us had a row of house martin nests under the eaves – all gone since extensive "renovation" changed the profile.
Even so, a pair of buzzards wheeled and called above our field walk one warm but grey morning. Their home seemed to be in the tall lime trees. The bullfinch returned to the feeders and the starling family plundered everything they could get!
Dot the Dog was fascinated by a pair of juvenile crows in the field one fine morning. They were loudly demanding to be fed by their accompanying parent – beaks wide, fluttering wings – but mum (or dad) was having nothing of it. She (or he) seemed to be trying to teach them about digging for food (probably leatherjackets – cranefly/"daddy-long-legs" larvae – or worms). I thought she/he would need a few more sessions.
A few holly berries had already reddened up – oddly premature.
Heat came at the end of the month! A couple of (very) hot and sunny days brought out the butterflies and bees – though not as many as usual. Nonetheless we saw large and small whites, meadow browns, gatekeepers and small tortoiseshells; no red admirals but a friend said he had seen a peacock. The field with the prominent oak tree opposite the paddock was mown for a second grass crop, and the maize was now waist high. A buzzard wheeled high above and then glided down to find another thermal upcurrent – and up it went; I could have watched for ages but Dot the Dog insisted on moving on to play ball. I often wonder who is in charge.
Another hot and sunny day followed. On our afternoon walk we saw a heron standing in the big flood (the smaller one having disappeared for the time being).
As ever
Horrid of Henbury