Chilly New Years Day in the Goyt

By way of shaking off the New Year hangover / blues Mrs BW and I left the teenagers sleeping and nipped into the Goyt for a bracing walk. It was chilly and the red grouse, normally further up the hillside were close to the road, even on the side of the road. We forget that what might look pretty to us makes the daily struggle to survive even harder for the birds and other animals that live here.



We were pleased to see the owls out hunting. We have not spotted them for a few weeks. They are such magnificent birds. So quiet and graceful, they use the minimum of effort to hunt following the contours of the hillside catching and working with every breath of wind.



Down in the valley the temperature was a fraction higher and the smaller birds were busy collecting what they could. On the upper reservoir the various ducks littered the surface and a shag dived for fish before noisily flying off in an confusion of water and noise. Far off we heard the harsh cry of a raven and as we crunched our way back up the hill he flew over the frozen pond.



We drove home for tea and toast and the warmth of our centrally heated house, glad that we could and did not have to live out in the wild.

Life and Death in the Goyt

High above a buzzard flaps slowly and effortlessly above the moor. Suddenly from nowhere a curlew appears. It is smaller than the Buzzard, but I guess it has eggs near by, possibly chicks and its unhappy at the presence of the Buzzard. It escorts it away from the area, diving at it every so often, not to hit it, but just to encourage it to “push off”. The Buzzard continues on its way, unperturbed and disinterested in the attention, and satisfied that it no longer poses a threat, the Curlew peels off and returns to its nest.

Over the crest of the hill the Short-Eared Owl that we saw ten minutes previously re appears. It is no longer hunting but flying purposefully back across the valley. Through the binoculars I see that it is clutching a small furry creature. I ask Mrs BW if she wants to have a look, but she declines saying that she can get a better idea about how graceful and elegant it is with the naked eye.

A brown hare breaks cover and with slow lolloping strides reaches the safety of the undergrowth, pausing once or twice to look back at these strange intruders. As we enter the small wood, I leave the track to answer a call of nature. There in front of me hanging from a branch are the remains of a rabbit, eviscerated; it has obviously been dead for some time. The wood is strangely silent. It is dark, many of the trees lean at weird angles, and there is an uncomfortable lifeless feel to it. Back on the path and into the sunlight I catch Mrs BW up as a jay dashes from one patch of wood to another, a flash of pink and white.

We stop and sit for a while on the bench that overlooks the reservoir. There is no wind and the late evening sun feels warm. All appears to be peaceful in the Goyt. Appearances are deceptive.

Spring?

Most of the snow has gone but its still cold so I wore my thermal underwear (okay to much information) as I was intending to spend a couple of hours lying up in one of my favourite spots to watch and wait. When I got to the carpark there was a lot of activity. The curlews that nest on the higher part of the moor were unsettled. I think it was a party of walkers plus dogs (off the leads). The walkers were noisy and did not seem to worry where their dogs went. Luckily they were at the end of their walk.

I got to my spot and had not been there long before the Owl appeared. Because I was high on the side of the valley I watched as it flew up the side of the hill and then realised that there were two. I watched for the next ten minutes as they flew together, tumbling and gliding and quartering the hillside. Not a lot of serious hunting appeared to be done and they displayed to each other, dropping through the air making a clapping sound with their wings. It was, for me a mind blowing few minutes. They flew quite close, oblivious to my presence or unconcerned by it, they were true masters of the sky the hillside and the valley and I was so lucky to have stumbled across them.




I have take plenty of photos but my lack of skill means that few of them are usable. I will sift through them amd see if I can find one with them both on.

The light was quite extraordinary as the sun set.



As I walked back to the car the air was full of sky larks and I turned for one last glimpse of the setting sun and the valley, before heading for home.



I watched from the car park as two cyclists ignored the signs and set off down the steep narrow muddy path to the bottom of the valley. Hopefully they will break their bikes on the rocks and have to carry them back up the hill.