3rd May 2010
I want to marry a Lighthouse Keeper [Clockwork Orange]
Rain in the night and lots of snow on the Snowdonian peaks in the morning gave
stunning views in the strong, early morning sunlight. There was still a cold NE
wind but I persevered by cycling into it after exploring the reserve. I saw a
close by female Marsh Harrier, a dozen or so Wheatear and lots of Reed
Warblers, which were singing hidden amongst the expansive reedbeds. I chanced
upon a local birder, Tudor Williams and chatted for a while. A Weasel walked
almost through our legs whilst we were chatting! I then turned and went back
down to the Cob, the wind behind me now,
to pay my respects once again to the late Charles Tunnicliffe.
To Valley Wetlands RSPB reserve next and a lunch of Primula sandwiches.
I had forgotten how much I loved the stuff, having last had it many decades
ago. A few spinach leaves added to the soft cheese helped make it a healthy
option. Well you know what it did for Popeye!
There
were only a few birds, mainly a few ducks but there was three ruddies, Ruddy
Ducks, there. Memories of the time before the cull when Belvide Reservoir in
Staffordshire used to have hundreds of them. Ruddy Ducks were the symbol, back
in the seventies and eighties, of the West Midlands Bird Club. Now with
practically no Ruddy Ducks left in the UK the WMBC has a Black Redstart as its
symbol, a bird that breeds in the centre of Birmingham and one of the only
birds that benefited from the horrific Blitz of World War 2. The bird found the
bomb-ravaged areas good for setting up home. Numbers of them still breed within
hearing distance of two of the city's major railway stations.
Ruddies
are smashing little ducks, the males with their brilliant blue bills and
bizarre, pneumatic drill-head banging display being accompanied with
appropriate thumping sounds as they vibrate the surface water. They had been
culled in Britain because of their promiscuous behaviour. This behaviour had
made the American darlings a threat to a European species of duck, the
White-headed Duck, a duck that male Ruddies found a welcome change. The risk of
losing the White-headed Duck as a species, hybridised by Ruddy Duck, was deemed
too great and so the Ruddy Duck had to go. Shame as I rather liked the little
American invader.
I had seen White-headed Ducks in Spain, near Almeria, at a filthy pit a couple of years ago. Around thirty of them were bobbing along on the choppy waters. The pools were being diminished by lorries dumping soil and rubbish into them along one of the edges, near the road that cut across the middle. If you Google Earth the area all you can see is a mass of white, square kilometre after square kilometre of white. This is because of a massive amount of white plastic-covered greenhouses, used for growing tomatoes. This makes an amazing sight. Just look at the satellite image just west of the city. Try it and you will see what I mean.
And so to South Stack RSPB reserve with its spectacular views and calendar lighthouse. Fabulous vista yet instead of the expected thousands of auks thronging the cliffs there were just two Guillemot and nine Razorbills! There were Red-billed Chough flying around. I walked down the many steps from the end car park to a blocked off access bridge to the lighthouse island, in order for me to see the Sea Spleenwort hiding beneath the last section there. I had been coming here to this exact spot to see this special little fern for decades, ever since finding it, way back when I was at Chester College in the mid-1970s.
Later
that evening, with yet another beautiful sunset and with the shelter from the
gale force wind afforded by Holy Mountain, I camped overlooking the sea on incredibly
soft, spongy grass with a lovely mattress-like feel, which was very welcome.
Tickle My
Feathers
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