On my walk along the beach yesterday it was gloriously sunny, with cerulean blue skies and a sapphire sea, but it was very windy. As I turned to walk back into Aberdovey having visited the pillbox, the wind lifted dry sand off the surface of the beach, carrying it in airborne rivulets that combined and recombined, forming wonderful shifting patterns at immense speed down the beach, north to south. The mutating patterns of millions of pale granules caught in the autumn sun were simply stunning, less sand drift than mass migration. So far my attempts at video have been confined to birds on the garden feeders, and neither my video skills nor the video function on my little camera were really up to the job of capturing something so magnificent, but in these three very short videos I have given it my best shot. The roaring sound is the wind:
For years pheasants and doves have been regular visitors. The pheasants, a cock and either one or two hens, have an ungainly waddle and are desperately foolish, apparently unaware of any dangers that might threaten, announcing their presence with loud cries. They presumably nest somewhere locally. A bright, if somewhat intellectually limited addition to the garden. Remarkable how something so stupid can look so pompous. I haven’t seen them for a couple of months, but the male was here today, unaccompanied.
The pair of collared turtle doves are the antithesis of the pheasants. Elegant, shy and quick to alarm, they visit daily at about 5.30. Their tail plumage spreads into a perfect fan when they take to the skies. Any movement startles them to flight so I haven’t managed to capture them on video so far, which is a shame as they are incredibly pretty as they land and review the situation before picking their way towards the bird bath. Before the 1930s they were unknown in Britain. Their distribution was confined to the Balkans expanding into most of Europe in the following years and nesting in Britain only after 1955. They can raise up to five broods in a year.
The garden was avian-central today – a blue tit, a great tit, coal tits, a robin, three female house sparrows and a male blackbird, as well as the pheasant and doves. The robin was ever-present, occasionally chasing off the sparrows, and he is increasingly vocal. Not a pretty song, but unmistakeable. The coal tits always announce their arrival by a highly distinctive peeping sound.
I assume that the bird feeders were a welcome source of fuel after three days and nights of gales and torrential rain. It must be difficult to acquire a good lunch under those conditions. Although there have been occasional showers, it has been mostly dry and the wind has dropped to a breeze, and it has been a joy to see the birds out in force.
Today it has been raining. Not just a little bit. A lot. I remember when much younger over-using the word “awesome” a great deal, but today seems to call for its resurrection. This torrential rain, this noisy, unending, full-on, day-long vertical waterfall has been truly, seriously awesome, transformed into something extraordinarily intimidating by vast gusts of wind that shake everything, knock over plants in their pots, and make me worry that I was a little rash to put out my bins for collection tomorrow. Storm Bronagh in full swing. I commented on an email to a friend that the advantage of sitting in the midst of it all is that I’m not sitting in Surrey Quays worrying about it. However, it should be added that the disadvantage of sitting in the midst of it all is that I’m sitting in the midst of it all! The first video is a very short one because I got absolutely drenched standing in the doorway for even the short period that I was there.
This second video, taken from the dry side of the window, has the added excitement of the down-pipe overflowing and travelling across the decking in substantial drifts. The sheer amount of water has backed up the drain pipe and it is going everywhere in great, loud, heavy thuds and crashes as it hits my outdoor cupboard and my decking. Again, awesome, but I really wish that it would be just a little less exciting!
I’ve been reading a book about the history of Wales in the early Middle Ages, and the thought of engaging in war with the English in this sort of weather, with nothing more than motte and bailey castles as protection and no gas-fired central heating and hot water really turns my blood to ice. God knows what they were wearing, but I bet it didn’t keep out this sort of incessant weather.
I was also thinking about Dai’s comment that he wasn’t taking the boat out to do any fishing due to the weather forecast. It is unimaginable what it would be like at sea on a any day of the last three days, but particularly today when rain and wind have joined forces to toss life on land around. A staggering thought.
Aberdovey Londoner 