We awoke this morning from our first undisturbed night's sleep in quite a while. The wind had dropped, the rain had stopped and the beautiful sun was shining..... launching ourselves off of the boat, without coats or wet weather gear, these were the sights that greeted us:
These are were the steps down onto the pontoon lock moorings
The water from the sluice hasn't slowed down any
Just expanded somewhat
The permanent moorings a little way upstream are diminishing
and a number of trees are getting their roots washed
The Mill is growing it's own personal moat
The dogs thought all this water was wonderful and Floyd and Fletcher had their new harnesses to show off; Baxter shows Floyd how to model
All this posing is no good for an action dog and even Baxter gets bored
There's far more exciting things to be doing in this 'new' landscape
Like drowning Fletcher.......
.....quite a lot
until you get the stick out of the water
smart, safer dogs looking like dogs with a purpose (not sure what the purpose is yet!)
and poor old Baxter still doesn't understand what the rumpus is all about
Milton Keynes had its annual marathon event yesterday. Nothing against a charity run, although I could think of better ways to raise money.
Clearing up rubbish would be a good one.
One of the mountains of plastic rubbish left by the marathon crowd. Not sure who they think is going to clear up after them.
The Reed Warbler was calling away from the reeds, and the water level over by Cormorant island, has risen quite a bit. Thankfully the nesting birds on the island seem to be OK. Not so fortunate for some of the Coots nesting by the edge of the lake, and in the reeds. A couple of nests have been washed away; along with the eggs.
I made my way round to the north lake, and as I crossed the footbridge, a large flock of Swallows and House Martins flew overhead. Above the trees were a large number of Swifts. What I saw next though, was amazing.
One of the trees at the edge of the lake, was covered in House Martins and Swallows.
Every so often, a cloud would fly up into the sky, like Starlings, as they go to roost in the autumn.
Hundreds of them. Not just in the trees either. They were all over the lake.
A fantastic sight to see.
As I made my way round the lake, there was more rubbish alongside the footpath.
The heavy rain of yesterday had brought problems too. The level of the water has risen considerably, and more washed out nests.
Up by the dam, a lot of water; more than I can remember seeing for a long time.
Over by the river, it has burst its bank, and flooded across the fields.
The weir is flowing pretty fast now,
and the footpath I usually take, was under a lot of water. Deeper than my wellingtons.
Before I took an alternative route, I was fascinated by a Great Crested Grebe, with a monster crayfish.
I wondered if he'd manage something that big, but in the end, he did.
I took the alternative route, and eventually got back on my usual track.
My usual route is next to the bush on the right hand side, where the water is.
I made my way round to where the Mute Swans had nested, close to the edge of the lake. It looks as though their nest has succumbed to the torrential rain too.
A pair of grebes were performing the head waggle,
and another pair managed the full blown weed dance too.
I wondered if this was more bonding if they had lost nests to the rain, prior to starting again.
Onto the south lake, and a few more Reed and Sedge Warblers seem to have turned up during the bad weather. The reeds seemed full of them, all frantically calling, and flying about.
Above, more Swallows and Martins, and a Hobby making a half-hearted attempt at catching one.
The Crow managed to catch my apple.
He seemed more pleased with it than I was.
Overhead, another Crow was making sure a Buzzard kept going, and managed to chase him away from the lake.
At the far end, a Rook sat high in a tree eating something.
Not sure what it was, and not sure I want to know; but he was certainly enjoying it.
Making my way down towards the rowing club, another Hobby, or maybe the same one, was attempting to catch some of the Swallows. Unsuccessful.
A Great Tit sat in some trees, and briefly posed.
Eventually, I was back by the car park. The Reed Warbler was still calling, and after a few minutes, I managed to find him.
Overhead were more Swifts, Swallows, Sand Martins, and House Martins.
A few minutes practising flight shots, as they whizzed above, and the a few Rooks overhead too.
A sunny morning. A pleasant change after all the rain.
I got to the lake early, as it was just getting light. No visit yesterday, because myself and Trevor had a day at Paxton Pits, searching for Nightingales.
A quick look for the Reed Warbler, and then off round the north lake. Rain was the order of the day; but some good birds too.
Lots of Swallows flying over the north lake, and the grass; and even more when I got to the south lake.
A Common Sandpiper flew across to the island, and just seemed to be sheltering from the rain.
Up at the top end of the lake, a group of Goldfinches flew up into the trees along the edge, and amongst them two Linnets. The first I've ever seen here.
Further along, a Sparrowhawk flew to the trees, stayed briefly, and was off again.
The river is quite swollen now, and the weir is flowing with some force.
Two levels of the steps are completely submerged now, and if this rain continues I can see this area flooding, making it difficult to get round this part.
In front of the pub I counted four Pied Wagtails amongst the Starlings, and then the pair of Yellow Wagtails flew in.
Good to compare them side by side.
A group of Swallows had taken a rest in one of the trees that edge the lake.
Onto the south lake, and as mentioned earlier, hundreds of Swallows were skimming the water. The reeds were bursting with the sound of Sedge Warblers, and one even gave me a quick glimpse, before hiding again.
At the far end, more Swallows over the water, and above the trees on the island, at least 50 House Martins in a feeding frenzy.
The rowing club were out in force by the time I began my way back towards the car park, and by the houses, a Yellow Wagtail.
May have been one come over from the pub.
On the island the Oystercatchers were in fine voice, and back by the car park area, the Reed Warbler was still calling.
Saw my first Swift of the year flying overhead this morning.
A quick glimpse of the Reed Warbler, and then on to feed the Mallards under the road bridge. They've got friends now, in the shape of Canada Geese.
Over by the pub, I could see one of the Oystercatchers, a few Common Terns flying around, and up by the swollen river, a Grey Heron was patiently waiting for breakfast to present itself.
As I passed the weir, a quick flash of a Kingfisher over the water, and still four Tufted Duck swimming around.
Round by the pub, a pair of Yellow Wagtails, lit by the sunlight, along with a few Canada Geese,
Walking towards the far end of the lake, plenty of Reed Buntings were around,
and the Sedge Warbler was still being impossible to see properly for a picture.
At the far end of the south lake a change to see a Jackdaw by the footpath.
Usually see these flying overhead in the mornings, along with the Rooks.
As I made my way towards the rowing club, a Hobby was circling overhead, and gradually glided off to the east.
The pair of Mute Swans are getting on with the new nest.
All the work this morning was by the male, while the female was swimming around, and feeding.
Swallows and House Martins were skimming over the water as I got back to the car park.
A very quick visit in the rain this morning, because the new video camera is due for delivery anytime after 7:30 a.m.
(update; it's just arrived ----------- but still raining)
A welcoming party of Mallards were waiting at the car park as I arrived. Three to begin with, and then more turned up.
A quick look for the Reed Warbler, and managed to glimpse him through the reeds, before setting off under the road bridge, and the north lake.
The pair of Mallards came running over when they saw me; how could I resist not feeding them?
On to the footbridge, and the Heron was sat fishing underneath. He soon left for a quick circuit round part of the lake, and then returned, once I'd left.
A Kingfisher flew past the island, and a couple of Common Terns were flying overhead.
Past some of the houses, and a couple of Mallard were sitting on the roof, admiring the view.
Along the edge of the river, another Heron was patiently stood in the rain.
On the metal fence, up by the weir, a female Mallard had perched herself there.
As I reached the weir, a female Mallard hurried past with three ducklings. The first I've seen this year.
She quickly took them off to the safety of bushes by the edge.
Only three. Maybe she's lost some already?
Past the pub, and the growing numbers of Starlings, over the road bridge, and back to the car park.
Quick, early visit again; still waiting for parcels.
Very dull and dark, with constant drizzly rain; not ideal for pictures.
Managed a quick glimpse of the Reed Warbler this morning, and then made my way round the north lake.
The Mallards appear like magic these days, and once fed, I can carry on my way.
Lots of singing warblers this morning, but I've still not found any new arrivals yet.
The Common Terns continue to swoop down over the water, and it's getting close to the time when Black Terns arrived last year for a couple of days. No sign yet though.
Something that made me smile this morning, was a pair of Mallards on a large puddle.
The second biggest lake in Milton Keynes, and they favour a puddle.
Ain't birds great!
Up by the pub, a few Starlings probing the soggy grass, along with a few Black-headed Gulls, and as I made my way under the road bridge, the two Mallards found me again. Cheeky pair.
I managed to find the calling Sedge Warbler in his now usual spot, amongst the brambles. A fleeting few glimpses though, as he moves about a lot, and seems to keep very low.
At the far end, a couple of Little Grebes, and some Tufted Duck, and near the bird pallets, a few young bunnies.
Finally, as I got to the rowing club, the pair of Yellow Wagtails were about, with a couple of Pied Wagtails.
Very wary though, and not easy to get close to for pictures.
Back at the car park area, a couple of Greenfinches on the feeders, and the very noisy Reed Warbler still calling.
When Laurens van der Post one night In the Kalahari Desert told the Bushmen He couldn't hear the stars Singing, they didn't believe him. They looked at him, half-smiling. They examined his face To see whether he was joking Or deceiving them. Then two of those small men Who plant nothing, who have almost Nothing to hunt, who live On almost nothing, and with no one But themselves, led him away From the crackling thorn-scrub fire And stood with him under the night sky And listened. One of them whispered, Do you not hear them now? And van der Post listened, not wanting To disbelieve, but had to answer, No. They walked him slowly Like a sick man to the small dim Circle of firelight and told him They were terribly sorry, And he felt even sorrier For himself and blamed his ancestors For their strange loss of hearing, Which was his loss now. On some clear night When nearby houses have turned off their visions, When the traffic dwindles, when through streets Are between sirens and the jets overhead Are between crossings, when the wind Is hanging fire in the fir trees, And the long-eared owl in the neighboring grove Between calls is regarding his own darkness, I look at the stars again as I first did To school myself in the names of constellations And remember my first sense of their terrible distance, I can still hear what I thought At the edge of silence where the inside jokes Of my heartbeat, my arterial traffic, The C above high C of my inner ear, myself Tunelessly humming, but now I know what they are: My fair share of the music of the spheres And clusters of ripening stars, Of the songs from the throats of the old gods Still tending ever tone-deaf creatures Through their exiles in the desert.
David Wagoner
For more Tuesday Poems, please click on the quill.
This week's post marks the beginning of Tuesday Poem's third year. Zireaux is today's editor on the hub; welcome the ways in which he pushes the boundaries of what constitutes poetry. . . Zireaux has chosen a 'clip' - a conversation - between Australian TV favourites, Kath and Kim. He writes '. . . Ideas are not what poetry is about. Poetry is spoken music (some might say written music, but I'm less convinced of this, unless we equate reading with hearing, which seems a stretch)' and '. . . I can't help but feel that by isolating poetry, by assigning it to a particular habitat, we're neglecting an abundance of poetic forms -- in the deep hydrothermal vents of literature, in the ice caves, in the teeming jungles of planets beyond. . . "
". . . The deep hydrothermal vents of literature, in the ice caves, in the teeming jungles of planets beyond. . .' Ah, poetry! Thank you, Zireaux.
