I Fear They Will Close the Moors

Its only April and yet already the ground is parched, dust dry. The strong breeze that is blowing today sends up little clouds of dirt and grit that make my eyes itch and leave an earthy taste in the mouth.

As I leave the car by the pond and head briefly onto the road I notice that there are twenty or more squashed frogs baking on the tarmac.. They are quite flat. You can still see the speckled markings on some of them. They must have been crossing the road to get to the pond. How odd that on such a quiet road so many of them should have been run over. I recall a valley in the Dark Peak that Malcolm and I stumbled across one hot sultry day a few years ago. It buzzed with insects and the heat was oppressive and stifling. The valley floor was littered with the eviscerated remains of rabbits. Dozens of them. It was a killing ground.

I leave the frogs behind and head off down into the valley. The signs warn of nesting birds but I have a deeper fear. I fear they will close the Moors soon unless we have rain. Already a fire has claimed Wild Moor. The curlews are harder to see and hear this year. I fear the Moors are closed signs are being prepared.

At the bottom of the slope I stop and ponder which way to go, deciding, as I knew I would to take my usual route and feeling with every step my spirits lift. A sense of freedom, of being able to think clearly floods through my mind. I look around. It is all so dry. A sense of dread returns briefly. I fear they will close the Moors soon unless we get some rain. Then where will I go to escape?

Picnic in the Goyt

On saturday we decided to have a picnic in the Goyt. It was a little overcast, but warm with a gentle breeze. The fire that struck at the begining of the week on Wild Moor has left its mark and given the dry nature fo the ground I fear there will be more fires. It looks more like August after a hot spell than late April. We picnic'd in our usual spot. It is near a bridge over a small stream and the fledglings like to play in the stream and then climb up the steep hill opposite and roll back down! Are they Mad? We have a video of them and are considering whether to put it on U tube!

They really enjoy it though, despite the fact that they get dust and dry mud in their mouths.

I went for a walk after lunch and left everyone else scattered asleep on the rugs. I just happened to glance down at the stream and saw this Heron patiently waiting. A few minutes later it struck and got a fish for its troubles.

I like the way the dry stone walls are slowly collapsing, getting rid of the boundaries. Some of them though are major works of construction and must have taken a huge effort to build.

Hopefully we will get some rain soon, which will reduce the fire risk. It would be a shame if they have to close the Moors this early.

What Dad's are good for.

I was having a few moments to myself, idly flicking through some blogs when down stairs it seemed as if World War Three had broken out. The catalyst for this chemical overreaction of raging teenage hormones was the youngest fledgling, a game of cards and unintentionally Mrs BW. The victim was our "foureen" year old daughter. Some shouting, stomping upstairs, a slamming bedroom door and a blood curdling scream signalled her response to the momentous injustice that had been perpetrated on her.

Mrs BW sought me out and outlined the details of what had gone on and I volunteered to enter the "Lions den" to try and calm her down a little, as we were planning to go out shortly.

With trepidation I knocked on the door.

"Go away" a snuffly voice snorted from within.

I pushed open the door and went in. (We Birdwatchers are fearless in the face of adversity!) The curtains were drawn and it was fairly dark, but through the gloom, I saw huddled in the corner the hunched and sniffling figure of our daughter. I risked the traps that litter her bedroom floor, discarded items of clothing, CD's, bottles of perfume, schoolbooks etc and reaching the far side unscathed drew back the curtains. Natural wholesome light flooded in revealing a pale, tear stained and mascara streaked face. Quickly her hands went to her head.

"Go away Dad" she said.

"Now whats the matter then" I said in my best I maybe your dad but I am also your friend, voice.

"You don't want to know the truth anyway and you won't believe me as you always back him up and believe what he says anyway!" the him being the youngest fledgling, who no doubt was at this moment triumphantly smiling to himself over the mayhem that he had caused.

" Well why don't you tell me what happened anyway" I said.

" Well I went downstairs to ask HIM if he wanted to play cards and I goes do you want to play cards and he goes yes alright what shall we play and I goes lets play that game that Mark taught us last night and he goes I can't remember the rules and I goes well I'll tell you so I started telling him and he kept on interrupting and pretending to get them wrong and I goes you're pegging my head in you are and he goes ooh you stress head and throws the cards at me and then I shout DAD and mum comes in and she goes pick the cards up to me and I goes it wasn't me that threw them it was him and she always backs him up anyway so I am not playing and I am not going into town with you or nothing."

I was confused. I sought clarification on a number of points, but rather than ease the situation I seemed to make things worse. I left her and found Mrs BW and suggested that she had a word.

Five minutes later they both came down stairs, smiling and laughing. "Come on" said Mrs BW "lets get ready we are all going to go into town. Off you go and get your coats "this to the fledglings. When they had left she turned to me and said. "We would really like to show you that dress that we saw yesterday. It would be perfect for the wedding we are all going to in September. She really loves it and looks lovely in it. What do you think?"

I sighed, and made sure that my credit card was in my wallet. I was going to need it.

Blue Tit Update

It looks as if they have decided not to take up residence in the nesting box after all. We have seen them about but not anywhere near the box. I suspect that our increased use of the garden in the warm weather has put them off, or it could have been the close proximity of a lot of noisy sparrows. Hopefully we will continue to see them about, they are beautiful and fascinating little birds.

Unwanted phone calls number 2

I got a call from a recent ex pupil from my old school. She wanted to know what I could remember about my time there. I told her I did not want to remember my time there. It was not a happy time. My school days were not "the happiest time of my life". She seemed surprised and pressed me for something positive. I gave her rugby and the day I left. Of course what she was really after was money. Apparently they are raising money to bulld a new science and mathematics block. They need to raise alot of money. I told her that unfortunately the Birdwatchers name would not be on the roll call of grateful ex pupils who had made a donation. I was an ungrateful old pupil. And it was such a lovely sunny day before she phoned.

Evolution?

According to a report on the BBC tonight, scientists have discovered a DNA link between T-rex and chickens.

From this

To this

Evolution does have a sense of humour!

More on the Blue Tits and A Heron Drops in!

Well they are definitely nesting in the box nearest the house. I watched them this morning taking all sorts of foliage and nesting material in. Of course I could not actually manage to get a photograph of them going in or going out. If you look closely on the photo above you can make one out on the feeder! Honest its there!

They seem to prefer our garden in the mornings. Mrs BW says they do not seem to be about much in the afternoons.

Just as I was giving up and going to get ready for work a Heron flew low over our house and settled on the house opposite. It stayed there for about five minutes before flying off. I have seem them fly over before but never actually settle. There were plenty of crows around but they seemed to ignore it.

A Woman to the Rescue

We have had a problem with the drain that drains the kitchen sink for several months. It keeps on overflowing and is obviously blocked. Even I, who is to DIY what Attila the Hun was to world peace can see that.

Mrs BW has applied her considerable experience in DIY matters to the problem. Solutions have been poured down the drain, increasing in strength and environmental unfriendliness all to no avail. Plumbers have been contacted, messages left, all remain unanswered.

On Thursday Mrs BW announced that that was it,enough was enough, she could do more, we had guests coming for the weekend and I as the token Alpha male in the house would have to sort it out. I looked at her pleadingly and offered to make her a cup of tea. She was having none of it. "Sort it!" she snorted and stomped off upstairs to write something acerbic and unsympathetic about husbands.

What to do?

Should I don gloves and fish about in the murky depths? Perhaps I could get some patent drain cleaner and try one last time to shift what ever it was that was causing the blockage? I did neither. Instead I did what any self respecting Alpha male does in a situation like this and got a man (or in this case a woman) into do it for me. I found her on the Internet at Plumb local. She was very efficient, arriving at nine o'clock on the dot on Good Friday, just as she said she would, and going about the unpleasant task of removing twenty years of neglect from the drain with an unnerving cheerfulness. I lurked embarrassed in the background, while the younger fledgling kept up a running commentary about what she was doing, and how disgusting it was. He refused to shut up becoming more and more graphic in his description of what the poor woman was having to sort out. In the end I had to silence him by promising to pay him an exorbitant and over the odds amount to cut the back lawn.

She got it sorted, and cheerfully announced that she had seen far worse and at least it hadn't been the toilet. I agreed with her, and uttered a silent prayer to the gods that look after our drains. Thank heavens it wasn't the toilet.

She rushed off to sort out a major problem with the urinals at one of the quarries, I dashed upstairs proud as punch to tell Mrs BW that I had got the drains sorted!

Blue Tits 1 The Birdwatcher 0

Over the last ten days or so Mrs BW and I have been observing a couple of blue tits explore the nesting boxes that we (well Mrs BW actually) put up last year. They have shown considerable interest popping in and out and generally having a good look around the neighbourhood. This morning, before anyone else had got up I was sitting by the window that overlooks the back garden sipping coffee, and watching them coming to and fro. One of them disappeared inside the box nearest to the house and spent five minutes inside. This was all looking very encouraging. Every so often it would pop its head out and call to its mate that was occupied with the fat ball or eating insects off the rose bushes. They both moved off to have a look at the other nest box, then came back again. As well as the blue tits there were sparrows and the occasional black bird flying and hopping around. In fact the garden full of activity and bird song. I went to get the camera. This would make a great photo. Back in my seat, camera at the ready, I sat and waited. The garden was deserted. Nothing came in, not even the usually ever present sparrows. I gave up after forty minutes. I couldn't even blame the cats. They were both sound asleep in their basket. No doubt as I write this, the garden is again full of blue tits, and sparrows. Oh well such is life I suppose.

Life is Complicated enough already

I had just ordered an Americano at Caffe Nero’s when the elderly lady standing in front of me asked;

“What exactly is an Americano?”

“Well it’s just a coffee really.” (Sharp and incisive!) “Its an espresso with hot water added.” I went on quickly.

She thought for a moment. “And do you have it with milk?” she asked.

“Well I do, but it’s not compulsory.” I smiled at her.

“Hot or cold?”

“Sorry?” I said

“The Milk, hot or cold?”

“Oh I see, well I have it with hot, but you could have it with cold, no problem.”

“Why hot?” she asked. What was this twenty questions?

I said that I just liked it that way, which was half the story. I suppose I am a bit sad really but I always decide what I want before I go into Nero’s. I go in and when asked what I want I say;

“A regular Americano, with hot milk to drink in please!”

It makes life simpler, less complicated.

The alternative is;

Me “I’ll have an Americano please!”

Barista “Regular or Large?”

Me “Regular please”

Barista “With Milk?”

Me “Um yes please”

Barista “Hot or cold?”

Me “Hot please”

Barista “Are you drinking it in or out?”

Me (wishing I had gone else where) “IN PLEASE!”

So I leave nothing to chance and know what I want. Which is why taking the fledglings into Caffe Nero is a very stressful experience. Not only do they not know what they want, but also when they eventually do decide, they will then change their minds at the last minute. I guess its more interesting than money!

Working from home

Is hard at anytime. But when the sun is shinning, the fledglings are on holiday and Mrs BW is on the warpath viz the incompetent and slovenly way the the housework was done yesterday, then a nice noisy office seems very attactive. Ah well ,welcome to my brave new world of remote working.

Bribery!

We have guests coming for Easter, which is great and we are all looking forward to it. But of course the house needs a top to bottom spring clean. Its been a difficult week so far, what with me spending two days being introduced to the exciting new company that I now work for and Mrs BW attempting to occupy the fledglings during the first fraught days of the holidays. We were hoping to have it all done by now. But as of this morning nothing had been started. I was working from home and Mrs BW was away to Birmingham for a course. I had a brain wave. I would get the fledglings to start the house work. Of course we had to negotiate. We settled quite easily on a sum of money each. It was all going smoothly. But they are hard bargainers. They wanted something on top. Something to look forward to at the end of a hard afternoons housework. "Why can't you look forward to the money?" I asked. They looked at me like the sad weary old adult that I am. "Money's boring and it doesn't last" they said. We settled on a trip to Caffe Nero's as well Painless enough really.

I settled down in the spare room come office and did some work. Now I pride myself on my ability to complete housework quickly and efficiently. But I am a slow ponderous plodding sort of beast compared to these two. The hoover fair flew round the rooms and the duster was a blur. I had agreed that they could start as soon as I left to take Mrs BW to the station. It took me half an hour. I swear that they were half way through when I got back. Forty minutes later the hoover crashed into the room in which I was working, slammed into the wall and made a cursory and frankly quite derisory trip across the wooden floor before making an equally noisy exit. "Finished, are you going to pay us now or when we come back from the cafe?" Nothing left to chance, no possibility that I might forget any part of the deal!

"B******s" was what I wanted to say. "You better be sure everything is done, because I will check" was what I actually said. "Yeah what ever" came the cocky reply. "So let me see, if I have a look behind the box under the table in the kitchen I won't find any dust?" I replied. The cockiness disappeared. Some muttering and stomping about was followed by the sound of the hoover being recklessly crashed about the kitchen. I applied the same rigorous and critical eye to the dusting, pointing out that it was okay to shake the duster out outside occasionally as you did not have to collect all the dust on the duster as evidence that you had done it. After a few more suggestions and pointers as to how they might improve next time they did it,I paid up and took them to Caffe Nero's .

Will Mrs BW notice? Well she can hardly fail to notice the overwhelming smell of polish that has been applied to the bookshelves in the hall and judging by the slipperiness, to the floor as well. Whether it will pass her critical eye is another matter. We shall see.

Sunday Afternoon in the Goyt

It was a glorious spring day. What better way to walk of the excesses off Sunday lunch than to take a stroll in the Goyt. Mrs BW declined. She said she needed a little bit of peace and quiet. So I took the fledglings. Amazingly they actually wanted to come with me. Even when I said the word Walk. This normally causes them to go pale, and to hide their walking boots. I found out why they wanted to come as soon as we pulled out of the drive. "Can we get some sweets dad, and a drink?"

We did not do a long walk. It was more of a stroll really. The fledglings ran on ahead. This left me to get on with the important business of clearing the clutter from my head. A Sky lark rose into the air and hung there. I heard then saw a curlew. The clutter began to disappear.

I caught up with them by the bridge, where in the summer we often take a picnic if the weather is good. We played a couple of games of "Whats the Time Mr Wolf", but I was rubbish at catching them.

They wanted to roll down the steep slope opposite. This is fairly harmless thing to do. They get a lot of pleasure from it and they do look very funny, especially when they get to the bottom and try and stand up. We decided against it eventually.

On the way back the lapwings were out and about, and there were a couple of geese by the duck pond, but we had more important things to do. Like get home to watch Dr Who, which I had missed on Saturday night. "Its really good dad, you must watch it!"

Tomorrow I have get up early and go to Loughborough. It is the first exciting day under the new management, and they have arranged a "day" of "workshops" and opportunities to meet everyone. They will tell us how exciting the future will be. How wonderful the new technology will be. We will sit there and nod and smile. My heart won't be in it though. It will be in the Goyt straining to hear the curlews.