ARMCHAIR BIRDING

We are back in frigid Chicago now but I wanted to do one more post from Cornwall. The last day we were there a wild sou' wester' blew in and the wood burning stove in the kitchen just seemed far more appealing than anything outside! Luckily for me, my Moms bird feeders are located right outside the window so I settled down to see who would visit.
The Chaffinch Fringilla coelebs was by far the most numerous. This is the male


and this is the female


They tend to be more gregarious in the winter and they were most definitely 'large and in charge' at the feeders, only tolerating other species for brief moments before swooping in to take over the perches.
The Greenfinch Carduelis chloris is a much chunkier finch, easy to distinguish because of the beautiful yellow/green wing panel and rump.


I have to apologise for the photo quality here, I was shooting through the kitchen window which due to the storm was liberally caked with salt from the sea.
When he could run the gauntlet of Chaffinches the diminutive Blue Tit Parus caeruleus loved to swing from the suet feeder. Here he is getting a wash and brush-up at the bird bath.


My parents have been particularly successful in encouraging these appealing little birds into their garden and have even had them breeding in tiny nesting boxes lined with shed hair from the dog!
We have a nursery rhyme about this next bird -

Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,
Oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in his counting house counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!

The rye was purchased for sixpence to attract birds. Blackbirds, and other song birds, were actually eaten as a delicacy! However a court jester may well have suggested to the court cook to bake a pie crust and place this over some blackbirds to surprise and amuse the King!

Thankfully this species is no longer on the menu! The Blackbird Turdus merula is one of the best-known British birds. The male is unmistakable, with entirely glossy, velvet black plumage and contrasting orange bill and eye-ring.
A far less common winter visitor is the Blackcap Sylvia atricapilla seen here on the right of the picture, about to be chased away by the Chaffinch!


And before you think I am going crazy - the male of the species does have a black cap! The females and the immatures have the rufous brown cap! They seem to find Cornwall suitable for their needs during the winter and are a charming addition to the list of garden visitors.
One of my personal favorites is the Song Thrush Turdus philomelos


This delightful character is one of the more reticent visitors to the garden, always the first to take flight at the slightest noise or disturbance.


A few years ago we never saw these in the garden but now they appear regularly which is very positive in this age of rapidly declining song bird populations. I always think of the Isles of Scilly when I see a thrush, they are incredibly tame there. When we camped there a few years ago, one particular individual would fly down every morning and perch on the edge of our porridge pan to clean up the scraps after we had finished! Barely two feet in front of where we were sitting.
The final character in my parade of garden visitors is the star of English Christmas cards through the ages.


The Robin Erithacus rubecula is small in stature but extremely large in attitude (must be why I like them!! ;) ) My husband (an American) makes very derisory comments about the size of the English Robin in comparison to the American one. I, of course, respond by saying 'well your Robin isn't a Robin at all, it's a thrush!' Of course I failed to mention to him that it is only in recent years that the English Robin has been reclassified from a thrush to an old world flycatcher! But hey........ he shouldn't be rude about our beautiful Robin!


Of course if I really wanted to stop his comments I could explain that the America 'Robin' was named after the English one because of the similar red breast! But I'll save that for next time :)


Photo Credits - CJT

WALKING IT OFF

Well you know how it goes, all the pretty wrappings have been ripped off the presents under the tree with the accompanying 'oohs' and 'ahhs.' Far too much food has been consumed and alcohol drunk. Endless hours of Christmas television have been viewed and now you just have to do something vaguely physical. A good brisk walk along the coast is just what the doctor ordered.


It was a windy, squally, brisk afternoon but it did feel good to get out and about after the holiday of gluttony and excess.


And the scenery was as spectacular as ever, with a few special effects thrown in by the meteorological department.


Now where are all those left-overs and chocolate and mince pies and Christmas cake and toffees and, and, and.....................................


Photo Credits - CJT & DominickV

CHRISTMAS LIGHT

In Cornwall many of the seaside towns have a tradition of decorating around the harbour and seafront with nautical themed Christmas lights. The town where my parents live, Newlyn, is no exception. The little local fish monger has it's own decorations.


As does the local net locker.


One of the boats in the harbour is decorated


And the Fisherman's Chapel looks quite beautiful.


Along the sea-front a little Santa plays definite second fiddle to King Neptune with his trident in hand.


But I think my personal favorite is the big lobster out on the south pier.


In the next town over, Mousehole (pronounced Mowzul!) the lights have a different tale to tell. December 23rd is Tom Bowcocks Eve and, so the story goes, one winter, many years ago, the village of Mousehole was near starvation because constant storms had kept all the fishing boats in the harbour. Tom Bowcock set sail with a few intrepid men and his cat 'Mowzer' who, says the legend, sung the storm to sleep and enabled the men to make a fine catch of seven different kinds of fish. As Tom returned towards the harbour the sky darkened and the storm returned but he was guided back to safety by the people of the village, each holding a lantern. Tom Bowcock's Eve is still celebrated every year and 'Starr Gazy pie' is baked and eaten by hungry visitors. A delightful book called ‘The Mousehole Cat’ is based on the legend.
Pride of place amongst the Mousehole Lights is Mowzer the cat


And the somewhat bizarre Starr Gazey Pie


The deep religious strength that held these small fishing communities together in times past is also reflected in the light display on the pier.


The remaining lights have a more standard Christmas theme.


The cracker at the bottom of the slipway being a favorite


With an acknowledgment to the 'monsters of the deep,' Mobey Dick puts in an appearance


And, rather puzzlingly, so does the Loch Ness Monster! She must have strayed rather far from home!


We spent a perfect Christmas Eve walking around the harbour, enjoying the lights and the atmosphere. There was even a mulled wine vendor on the street, just to add to the festive spirit so it really was the perfect way to begin Christmas.



Photo Credits - CJT

CORNISH SKIES

We traveled to Cornwall last weekend to spend Christmas with my family. After having told everyone in the US how mild the southwest of England is, we arrived to a far chillier environment than normal, frost, sleet, hail and even the occasional snow shower.


However the day after we arrived the weather was clear and we took the opportunity to walk off a bit of our jet lag.


First stop, Chapel Carn Brea. The 'most westerly hill in Britain'. It is an outstanding landmark dominating the surrounding countryside. From its summit, some 657 feet above sea level it is possible to overlook St. Just to the north, Sennen and Lands End to the west and Mounts Bay to the southeast. There is a ruined Bronze Age Chambered Barrow at the summit as well as the former site of a medieval chapel. A fire beacon is lit here every Midsummer's eve. From there we went on to Porthgwarra (don't you love the Cornish place names.)


A superb , secluded Cornish Cove just under 3 miles southeast of Lands End. Porthgwarra is steeped in history and tradition - one time a busy fishing cove , now just one boat regularly works crab pots from here. The cliff path leads away west towards Lands End and east towards Porthcurno both very scenic and dramatic routes !
Above Porthgwarra is Gwennap Head.



Gwennap Head is the most southerly headland on the south coast of the Penwith peninsula. There are a pair of cone-shaped navigation markers on Gwennap Head, in line with the Runnelstone buoy. These are day markers warning vessels of the hazard of the Runnel Stone. The cone to the seaward side is painted red and the inland one is black and white. When at sea the black and white one should always be kept in sight in order to avoid the submerged rocks nearer the shore. If the black and white cone is completely obscured by the red cone then the vessel would be directly on top of the Runnel Stone. The black and white landmark was erected by the Corporation of Trinity House in 1821- an event recorded on a plaque on the back of the marker.


It was a stunning afternoon to be walking the cliff tops. It was so clear we could easily see the Isles of Scilly that are thirty miles away. At this time of year the sun sets early and the beautiful wash of colour this creates made the whole scene even more spectacular.


The sinking sun reflected off the cliffs to give them a deep orange hue.


A guaranteed cure for jet lag! :)



Photo Credits - CJT & Dominick

MY PERSONAL PARADISE - PART 2

Yesterday I described the first part of a recent trip to the Isles of Scilly (pronounced 'silly'.) We stayed on one of the 'off islands' called Bryher which in Cornish means 'place of hills'. After a gloriously sunny day when we arrived, our second day dawned grey and windy but somehow it didn't seem to matter. It just showed another facet of these spectacular islands.


After breakfast we set off to hike the island and before you think we were being incredibly energetic, the island is only 327 acres so we weren't exactly pushing ourselves, especially with constant stops to look at the scenery and take photos.


It seemed only right to focus on the western extreme of the island on this cloudy day because it gave us a feel for the true character of this windswept and dramatic spot.


Look how little I am!! It was so exhilarating to be perching on the edge of the world! Of course we had to visit Bad Place Hill, with a name like that how could we not? So here is my husband being a Bad Ass on Bad Place Hill!!


There are some hardy little souls that manage to make their home in this windswept habitat, like this glorious little Stonechat who kept a very close eye on us.


With all the fresh sea air we were more than happy at the end of the day to sit down to another delicious meal and a good bottle of wine (I could very easily get used to this!)
Next morning dawned blue and sunny (such is the weather in Cornwall) so we were determined to get out and enjoy our last day on the islands.


Time for a little more beach combing on such a beautiful morning, like this strange little sand flea


and very busily running up and down the sand in pursuit of the sand fleas was this ringed plover who was so focused on catching his breakfast he hardly noticed me.


This really is such a special place, it always brings such a sense of peace spending a couple of days here, gazing at the sea.


The beautiful clear seas and wind sculpted rocks are an endless source of inspiration for many artists and photographers.


As you would expect the islands are home to hundreds of seabirds, one of the most eye-catching being the dramatically marked Oystercatcher.


Another reason that I love these islands is that the birds vastly outnumber the people, such a refreshing change from Chicago!


The little cluster of buildings in this picture is the hotel we stayed in, as you can see there aren't many other buildings around, and, best of all, no roads, just a couple of sandy tracks.


All too soon it was time for us to catch the island launch back to the main island of St Marys were the Scillonian was waiting to carry us back to Penzance.


And what a nice touch - one of the locals was there to say goodbye! Can you see him reclining on the rock?



Photo Credits - CJT & Dominick V