Home thoughts

For some reason none of the plans for the day appealed and I really didn't want to be doing with public transport. Or people. Or walking. So I had a reading day.

Outside the spadgers descended on the sunflower seeds like a plague of locusts. The youngsters are in a settled group no longer supervised by the cock sparrows. Every so often a cock will fly in to the rambling rose to check up them before going back to feeding in the brambles on the embankment. As is the local custom this gang is accompanied by one of the juvenile blue tits. One of the others tags along with the grown-ups. The adults blue tits are busy moulting and leave them to it. I suspect similar arrangements go on with the other blue tits and spadgers families. The great tits tend to stick as a family group, as do the long-tailed tits that I don't see very often as they're staying in the top canopies of the sycamores. I've seen one juvenile coal tit, pretty much by accident as I was filling one of the bird baths.

The collared doves and woodpigeons are singing in the mornings, the woodpigeons give repeat performances in the evening. The blackbird has suddenly stopped singing, no wonder, the poor beggar's probably fair wore out.

Despite the gloomy weather the garden's full of butterflies, mostly large whites and an emergence of holly blues. I'd been missing these latter this Spring, they had a bad Summer last year, hopefully this year's Spring and Summer generations will build the numbers back up. As far as I'm concerned they can eat all the ivy they want and I don't mind them having a go at the hollies and dogwoods. The black-tailed skimmer was back in this afternoon, I'll need to keep a regular eye out for it.

Bats

I've taken to standing on the doorstep at dusk armed with the bat detector. It's a habit I got into while looking for something to do while the cat goes out to check the wheelie bins prior to turning in for the night. I've seen the occasional bat hawking in the trees round here in Summers past so it's not unreasonable to give it a go. There are enough moths fluttering about the honeysuckle and the street light to make it worth the bats' while. Up to this week all I'd caught on the detector was just the one pipistrelle. I've had better luck walking through the local parks at twilight. There are bus stops either end of the parks so it doesn't look suspicious to be cutting through though lingering may be frowned upon.

The front garden at night

Weighing up the cloud cover I wondered if bats rode ahead of the rain fronts like the swifts do so I hung on awhile. Luckily the bat detector has a red light on it so if any passersby gave me a quizzical look I could pretend I was having a crafty cigarette. After about half an hour I heard a peculiar noise around the 20Mhz setting. The pipistrelles I've heard sounded like regular bursts of Morse code. This sounded like the backing on a dance track being played on a beat box. Which, it turns out, is what a noctule bat sounds like. I knew there were some nearby because I've seen them occasionally in the Mersey Valley and here one was. It'll be interesting to see hear what else is about.