I noticed it this morning while thumbing through the daily paper, absorbing the feel good factor that the Olympics have brought to our lives, despite my cynical prejuces beforehand. I looked up and thought I caught a glimpse of this chap flying off. Not enough to tick it or celebrate though. I mentioned it to my Dad and then went to get on with some work. Shortly after he called me to say the bird was back, I rushed down and got this awful record shot through double glazing before it once again disappeared.
|First record for the garden, rubbish shot of course, but the ID is clinched!|
I then waited for it to return, which it did, and this time I mangaged to bang off some shots with no glass (other than the lens of course) between me and it.
Also-rans in the garden were this Blue Tit and several Starlings in a variety of plumages.
|Starling moulting from summer to winter plumage, just the head feathers to go, |
but look at those lovely, fresh, stunning greater coverts, wow!
|Juvenile bird, presumably from a second or even third brood.|
|Trés amigos, or perhaps not, they seem to be squabbling. Beligerant younsters|
moulting from thier juvenile to first winter plumage.
|Well developed chicks.|
|"Mum! He's pulling my tail feathers again!"|
|"At last, she's back. That looks good, mmmmmm, half chewed mosquito, |
my favourite, c'mon, c'mon, my turn... can't wait."
|"Oi, Mum, are you deaf?!, Hello!, I'm here too you know!"|
|"Oi! Where are you going?"|
|"You gonna share that or what?"|
|"Hrmph! Some brother you turned out to be, I'm not speaking to you any more."|