Garden

A hummingbird hawk moth, a birthday and some spring bulbs.

Saturday 28th March, 2015.

The weather last Saturday lived up to expectations.  It was calm and sunny all day.  The morning was devoted to publishing last week’s post on the blog, chasing a pheasant out of the back garden (twice) and pursuing a hummingbird hawk moth without managing to get a photograph.  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the moth so early in the year.  I have only seen them in summer before.  I was wearing the wrong glasses and, until I realised that it was hovering, my first impression was that it was a bumblebee.  But bumblebees are far too fat to hover.  I ran up to get a closer look.  The moth was looking for nectar in the daffodils and I got close enough to make a positive identification but it flew off before I could get a photo.  I checked the butterfly conservation website and found out that 28 sightings of hummingbird hawk moths have been recorded on the mainland since the beginning of 2015, mainly in the south and east of England.

There were other, less exotic, insects enjoying the sunshine too.  I saw bumblebees, bees and hoverflies.  Soon the garden will be buzzing.

Our afternoon walk was postponed because the 6 Nations Rugby competition had reached a critical stage . . . with England, Wales and Ireland all in with a chance of being overall winners.  I support Scotland but everyone beats Scotland and it is too depressing to watch.  So I left Tim to watch the rugby and did some work in the garden.

There were a few things that I had been planning to do for ages.  First, I cut off the end of the dead holly trunk that blew down across the ditch during winter.  The holly trunk was too thick to cut through easily with the short blade on the electric saw but I battled away, using the electric saw and a hand saw alternately, and I finally won.   The rest of the trunk doesn’t get in the way and will be left in place - unless we get someone in to cut it up with a chainsaw.  After that I cut off some dead branches on the old senecio and pruned a cotoneaster.  I thought of pruning the big apple tree but decided that it was a two man job and should wait for a non-rugby day.

I haven’t felt any more twingy pains in my back for almost a week and an ache in my right arm (probably tendonitis after doing too much holly hedge cutting) seems to have gone at last.  So I am risking some heavier garden work this week.

I was up early on Sunday - to record the start of Tim’s birthday.  No spectacular sunrise but it promised to be another lovely, bright and sunshiny, spring day.

I couldn’t work out whether these feathery clouds were the result of the condensation trails of transatlantic jets flying over the Island after their overnight journeys or whether it was just a coincidence that the trails and high cloud appeared to be connected.

Orwell famously wrote that some animals are more equal than others but he didn’t mention that some numbers are also more equal than others - particularly a zero (which isn’t really a number at all, just a lack of one).  But tack a zero onto the end of another number, an 8 for example, and then add the word birthday and you end up with a particularly significant day.  

We only saw five swans when we visited the harbour. The others may have been upstream preparing nests near the river banks.  I haven’t seen one holding its wings in this position before.  Perhaps they only do this in the breeding season.

This pair appeared to be amused by their distorted reflections on the water.

We had a new guest at the Sunday morning tea party.  A belligerent looking hooded crow.  His appearance was deceptive because he was very polite to the herring gulls who had a weight advantage as well as superiority in numbers.

I spent most of a grey and damp Monday chasing two feathered asylum seekers out of the back garden - two more escapees from the pheasant killing fields further up the glen.  I feel sorry for them - but not sorry enough to welcome them into our garden.  Late in the afternoon I resorted to trapping.  We caught one and drove him down the glen to the river where he would be safe from the guns.  When we got back the other pheasant was lurking around the trap.  So we set it again and took him to join his friend.

We didn’t walk on Tuesday.  There was important cricket on TV.  This week saw the climax of the northern hemisphere rugby season and then the southern hemisphere cricket season.  

I wandered around the garden photographing daffodils and other flowering bulbs.   I have started a daffodil project.  (I should probably call them narcissi but daffs is easier.)  I am recording (photographically) the different varieties of daffs in the garden.  Nearly all of them were here when we bought the property - mainly in scattered clumps in the back lawn.  It was an absolute nightmare trying to mow around them so eventually Tim dug them up and planted them under the trees.  I think the person who originally planted them in the lawn must have bought a packet of assorted bulbs.  Most are the ubiquitous classic shape, bright yellow daffs, which are planted on so many road verges on the Island.  But there are also some with orange trumpets, a few paler ones, and even a clump of double flowered daffs.

I have written in previous posts about the early mini-daffs but it is difficult to tell sizes from my photographs which often magnify the smaller flowers.  So I took a photo of a normal size daffodil with a miniature for comparison.

I love blue flowers and I love small flowers and I love spring bulbs.  So it is not surprising that I have been tempted over the years by the odd packet of bulbs with small blue flowers . . .  even though I don’t love photographing them because the colour never looks quite right.  There are some flowers on the chionodoxa . . .

. . . and a few on the scilla siberica

. . . and one paler flower.  I have forgotten the name but it looks like a Puschkinia scilloides - striped squill.

Wednesday dawned frosty but with the promise of a still, sunny day.  Tim saw a pair of great tits examining the nest box again.  We share the bird watching “duties”.  He has a good view of the nest box activities from his reclining chair in the living room and I spend spend more in the kitchen watching the birds who visit the feeder.

When I went outside I heard some buzzing from the direction of the pieris and saw two large bumblebees enjoying the nectar.  These shrubs are popular because of their bright red spring foliage which has yet to emerge.  But I bought this plant for the flowers.  Our neighbour mentioned that she had seen butterflies feeding on her plant.  My pieris seems to flower too early for the butterflies but at least the bees appreciate the pretty little flowers.

It was a good day for gardening and I had to decide whether to mow the grass or prune the big apple tree. The tree won.   I know it is the wrong time of year for pruning apple trees but I have been putting it off all winter because it is such a daunting task.  The soil isn’t very deep in the sloping back garden and I was worried that the tree was getting too tall and top heavy and might come down in one of our gales.  I wasn’t looking forward to working on the tree because I wanted to cut some thick branches which could damage the lower branches (or me) when they fell.  But I also knew that it would be an even harder task if the tree put on another year of growth.

This tree has been ignored for years because it doesn’t produce any apples - but it does have pretty blossom and is part of the “corridor” of trees from the plantation to the bird feeder which shelter the little commuting birds from the sparrow hawks.  The birds can flitter from the holly and sycamore at the edge to the plantation (on the right of the photo), to the clump of hawthorns which are covered by wild roses, on to the decimated apple tree and finally to the kowhai tree which shelters the bird feeder.

There is an ever-present danger from above.  This week we had a good view of the sparrow hawk circling overhead - probably on a “prospecting” flight.  And I also saw a female hen harrier soaring over the plantation above the garden.

We walked up through Skyhill  plantation on Thursday morning.  My attempts at photography were foiled.  First by a pony who was watching our approach through a gap in the wall but turned his back on me as soon as he saw the camera.  Then, after being serenaded by invisible robins up in the trees on our way home, I finally spotted one on an exposed branch but it flew away as soon as I got my camera out.  I did get a photo of some patches of snow up on the hills but they didn’t even qualify as “quite interesting”.

In the evening we trapped another male pheasant - the third in a week - after being virtually pheasant-free since Christmas.  The males must be moving from their winter territories in search of mates.

On Friday we also woke early - to a spectacular sunrise.  This may be the last of the “rather too frequent” sunrise photos because the sun is rising earlier every day.  PS It has just occurred to me that we change to summer time this weekend.  So the sun will rise an hour “later” on Monday - although it will still rise a few minutes earlier according to my “body clock”.   I find these time changes very confusing.

It was a pretty morning with touches of gold.  A golden sun in the sky, a goldfinch on the bird feeder in the morning and the lawn sprinkled with little gold stars.  The lesser celandine flowers only open when the sun is shining.  

That was a magnified image.  The flowers are only about an inch in diameter.

These small and apparently innocuous plants are invasive but it seems wisest to tolerate them because they are almost impossible to eradicate . . .  and their flowers are pretty . . . and they are a native wildflower.  But I do feel sorry for American gardeners who may be fighting a losing battle with lesser celandines.  They were were imported to the USA as garden plants, are still on sale in some of their garden centres, and have escaped into the wild.  One eco blog includes them in their list of “most hated invasive plants”.  

That was the last of the good weather - rain and gales are predicted for Saturday and strong winds, rain or showers for the rest of the month.  March doesn’t seem to know that it is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.  Maybe it is just practising for next week’s April showers.

More misc.

The second day of spring?

Saturday 21st March 2015

Saturday again and another blogging day.  It is impossible to imagine a more beautiful morning.  The skies were the deepest blue.  The grass was glistening with such a heavy dew that there may have been a touch of frost overnight.  And the air was full of bird song when I went out before eight o'clock to photograph the sky.  It looked and sounded like spring but there was a chill in the air (4 degrees C) so it didn’t quite feel springlike.

The blue skies arrived a day too late for yesterday’s solar eclipse and the vernal equinox.  Today is the second day of spring (according to the astronomical seasons).  But nothing is simple.  If you prefer to use the meteorological calendar, spring started three weeks ago on the first day of March.  And there is also my personal “daffodil calendar” which claims that spring started on the fifth of March when the first daff opened in our garden.

The blue skies over Skyhill . . . the view over the top of the house from the patio.

. . . and the view from the back door.

This week started in the usual manner.  Another Sunday - another trip to Ramsey.  

We were held up by a very slow tailback of cars in Lezayre Road and when we turned into Parliament Square we saw the reason.  There had been a one horsepower vehicle ahead of us.

We parked at the Co-op and walked down to the harbour with  leftover bread for the swans.  The swans were further downstream than usual, apart from two which were sleeping on a mud bank above the swing bridge.  The tide was out and they had gathered together in the shelter of the harbour wall just below Market Square.  There were also six Canada geese with them and a few mallard ducks.  

As well as being the greediest, the herring gulls are the most observant of the harbour birds.  We didn’t see any when we walked down the quay but they must have been watching us.  As soon as Tim started to open the packet of bread the herring gulls appeared en masse, closely followed by the black headed gulls.   When the bread was nearly finished some pigeons and jackdaws arrived and formed an orderly queue before polishing off the crumbs.

There was an article in the Guardian about bread being bad for ducks.  Perhaps we shouldn't take left-over crusts for the swans.  But we only feed them every week or two and they only get homemade wholemeal bread made with local stone-ground flour. The article suggested a long list of alternative foods which looked either too expensive like mealworms, or too time consuming like “grapes (cut in half)” and earthworms.  Do they seriously think anyone is going to spend hours digging up earthworms to feed to ducks?

We walked down Parliament Street on the way back to the car and passed the Courthouse - probably the most photographed building in Ramsey.  

The Courthouse is actually the former courthouse, and also the former police station.  It is currently still in use as the local post office.  We are hoping that it doesn’t soon become the former post office because there are plans afoot  to close the post office and open a sub post office in a room at the back of the Spar shop..  The Ramsey residents are up in arms and have been marching, signing petitions and putting up posters.

Ramsey seems to be shrinking gradually.  The high street is being killed off by internet shopping and businesses relocating to Douglas.  There have even been rumours that our bank may eventually close its Ramsey branch and have a counter in the Spar. I can imagine a future when only the supermarkets, a few coffee shops and hairdressers, and about half a dozen Estate Agents still survive . . .  as well as the ever-expanding Spar, of course.

On the way home we stopped in the glen road so that I could photograph the lambs.  They had been frisking around when we drove to the shops and now they were relaxing in the midday warmth (which wasn’t really very warm).

When I see sheep in the peaceful Manx countryside, the words “Where sheep may safely graze” often creep into my mind.  I checked the quote and found that it didn’t come from a half-remembered hymn as I had suspected.  It is of course from a translation of the lyrics of a secular Bach cantata and praises good shepherds and rulers.  The Manx sheep appear to be safe and content, but we seldom see any shepherds so the words are less appropriate than I thought.

When we got home I saw two long tailed tits on the feeder and called Tim.  He pointed out a wren in the flower bed which I hadn't noticed.  I fetched the camera.  After taking a quick photo of the wren, which promptly disappeared under a shrub, I went back to see the long tailed tits but they had also gone.  Luckily my one wren photo was better than I expected.

Monday was overcast again.  One of those days when it is on the verge of drizzling all day but manages to stay dry most of the time.  We walked up Skyhill.  The path was muddy but not as bad as we expected.  I wondered whether the conifers were starting to suck up some water from the ground.  

The larches inside the plantation compete for light.  They grow straight and tall and the only side branches were way above our heads.  We stopped at the top of the track where there is a larch at the edge of the plantation near the old stone wall.   It gets more light and has some lower side branches.  I took some magnified photos of its twigs.  The minute and perfectly formed cones were already visible and the bright green leaf shoots were just starting to show colour.  The first signs of life after winter.  Soon the larches will be greening.

It is worth enduring the cold, dark months of winter because they are always followed by the annual miracle of spring . . . new life out of the dead land.  It isn’t April yet and it’s too early for lilacs - but March is time of the earliest blossom on the trees.  After a damp Tuesday shopping trip, we stopped on the way home so that I could take a photograph of a beautiful tree. My Tuesday photo didn’t show the true beauty of the tree, so we returned on Wednesday before a Brookdale walk when the light was better.

I thought the tree might be a variety of cherry but after looking at photos on the computer I have changed my mind.  The close-ups of the blossom look exactly like almond flowers.  There are not many almond trees on the Island because we are too far north for them to produce nuts.  But who cares about nuts when the flowers are so lovely.

The leaf buds on the trees are swelling and a few have already burst into new leaf.  The horse chestnuts at Ballakillingan are always ahead of the other big trees.  They are the first to get their new leaves, the first to flower and the first to change colour in autumn.  But some of the smaller trees burst into leaf early too.  Willows (left) and elders (right), which we passed on our walk, were both showing signs of new life.

It is gradually getting warmer.  I was clearing sticks and leaves from the bank above the stream in the afternoon and I could work comfortably without gloves.  I even saw a bumblebee feeding on the heather in the back garden.

The cold weather may be fighting a losing battle but it isn’t giving up without a fight.  The grass was white with frost on Thursday morning but the sun was shining and the temperature was expected to creep up to double figures.  Maximums of 10 degrees C isn’t bad for this time of year.  

Later in the morning I saw a goldfinch on the sunflower seed feeder - the first one that I have seen this year.  

After tea we walked up through Skyhill plantation and checked the boundary wall where I think I may be able to climb over the fence to visit the keeill.  I am sure it will be possible. The air was rather hazy because the wind has been blowing from the east. I will wait for clearer skies because I want to photograph the views from the keeill as well as the remains of the building. But the real reason may be that I am a coward and trespassing makes me nervous - so I am putting off the excursion into the fields as long as possible.  I would ask for permission but I don’t know who to ask.  These old upland farms have been uninhabited for years and are just used for grazing.

On our way back we passed the horses.  They were relaxing in the sunshine at the top of the paddocks and were all conforming to a smart casual dress code . . . . .

. . . . . apart from one shaggy pony who looked slightly embarrassed about being the only one not wearing a jacket.

While we were walking along the muddy mountain bike path at the top of the plantation we heard a deep-throated bird call.  We couldn’t see the bird but Tim thought it must be a raven.  We checked some audio clips on the computer the next day and decided that he was right.

By Friday we were becoming concerned about our great tits - the pair which  booked the next box this year.  For a couple of days we have only seen one bird which we think is the male.  He spends a lot of time perched on or near the box - calling to his mate.  I hope she hasn’t dumped him for another male or been eaten by the sparrowhawk or one of the local cats.

The great event of the solar eclipse turned out to be a damp squib.  There was heavy cloud all morning and although it gradually got a bit darker towards the time of the maximum eclipse (about 90% when viewed from the Island - if we had been able to view it), it wasn’t much darker than days when the sun is just hidden behind heavy rain clouds.

All in all not a very memorable day considering it was allegedly the first day of spring.

PS  Good news on the great tit front.  There was a pair of tits near the box this morning (Saturday).  It may not the the original pair but I like to believe that the male, which has been patiently guarding the box, has been reunited with his wife - or at least found a new girlfriend. Perhaps I should have written "partner", I am not sure whether political correctness extends to great tits!

Miscellany

Signs of Spring and gates - past and present.

Saturday 14th March, 2015.

I have been thinking again.  It is a bad habit and one that is difficult to break.  I was wondering why people define themselves by their occupations or hobbies.  I don’t claim to be a Photographer.  I am just a person who takes photographs to preserve memories even if they are just two dimensional ones.  I am not a Writer either.  Just a person who enjoys talking to herself on a computer screen.  

I am definitely not an Artist.  I look at some paintings and think “I would love to be able to do that” . . .  but other paintings, mainly modern, seem totally pointless and make me wonder why someone bothered.  I fear that anything I created would definitely be in the second category.  Perhaps I lack sufficient self-esteem. But there is fine line between self-esteem and narcissism. A recent theory is that receiving too much praise from your parents when you are young can lead to narcissism.  Being a good parent seems to be more and more complicated with every passing year - and every new book about "parenting".

Anyway, I am perfectly content with just being a dabbler (in the original sense of the word) - although I am not happy with the way that language changes.  I wish people would think of new words instead of giving old words new meanings so that everyone ends up confused.  For instance, partner used to refer to a partnership in a business or legal firm, gay used to mean joyful, cool used to mean “lacking warmth” but has now become a synonym for hot and wicked in “youth speak”.  And there must be hundreds of words that have acquired alternative meanings that older people simply don’t know.  There is huge scope for embarrassment when trying to communicate with someone from a different generation.

But . . . back to the week that was.  Unlike last Sunday, this week we didn’t feel entitled to a day of rest.  We had too many weather-enforced days of rest last week.  I spent some time during the morning picking up minor debris that had blown off the trees during the gales.  Then we set off for a walk in Brookdale plantation after lunch.

I stopped on the way to our gate to take a photo of the “first daffodil”.  The poor thing had taken a knock out blow during the two days of gales and was lying supine on the moss . . . out for the count!  

We continued . . . onwards and upwards.  Passing this gnarled, moss-covered old hawthorn still clinging to the top of an old sod wall.  Perhaps the last survivor of an ancient hedge.  

A little further up I could zoom in on the beach at the base of the cliffs on the northern side of Ramsey Bay.  It was just an hour after high tide and there was only a narrow strip of sand.  In places the water still reached the base of the cliffs.  The Raad ny Foillan (Way of the Gull), our coastal footpath, follows the beach from Ramsey towards the Point of Ayre and this section is not passable when the tide is high.

This time we climbed all the way up to the top gate near the mountain road.  It was a slightly shorter walk than last time we walked up there, at the end of August, to photograph the bikes during the Manx Grand Prix.  This was because the gate had moved!  Or, to be more accurate, there was now a new gate about fifty yards down the hill from the site of the old one.

I was disappointed because we could no longer see the top of North Barrule without climbing over the gate - or navigating a muddy ditch and climbing up a bank.  I chose the latter option while Tim waited patiently down on the track.

I felt rather nostalgic about the old gate. It was an old friend.  I had photographed it in all seasons.  In August 2011 . . . during a walk with the two Tims, Leo and Alice.

. . . and in January 2013 when we were the first ones to walk up there after a snowfall and the only earlier tracks in the pristine snow had been left by a mountain hare.

On the way down I noticed that we were high enough to see over the Bride hills to the lighthouse at the Point of Ayre.  It was barely visible to the naked eye and I was surprised at the clarity of this maximum zoom photo.  The lighthouse must be at least seven miles from Brookdale.

At dusk I took a packet of rubbish down to the wheelie bin and was serenaded by a bird in the flowering cherry.  There wasn’t enough light to see it clearly but it looked about the right size for a thrush or blackbird, both of whom sing at night.  It seemed to be singing a duet with another bird in the neighbouring garden.  This is a wonderful time of year for birdsong.  We always hear the soothing cooing of the wood pigeons during our walks in the plantations.  

A combination of heavy rain and gales on Monday meant that we were housebound apart from an unavoidable short wet trip to the bank.   I amused myself . . . creating this slightly surreal image of out of focus daffodils photographed through rain streaked glass!

Tuesday was a complete contrast - almost summery and no wind.  For once we didn’t need to have a hand free, to hang onto our woolly hats and stop them blowing off, when we were carrying the shopping bags from the supermarket to the car.  

I saw the first two bumblebees of the year flying in the garden (or maybe  the same one twice). And the first "back garden" daffodil opened.

We walked up through Skyhill plantation in the afternoon and then continued along the sheep path next to the stone wall at the edge of the farm fields.  The sun wasn’t in the best position but I took a photo of the upper part of Cartwright’s glen in case we don’t walk along here again.  

The reason for the excursion was to see whether there was a place where we could climb into the field to visit the site of the Skyhill keeill.  We have never visited the keeill although I have located it on Google Earth and have also taken zoom photos of the little fenced area - from Brookdale plantation on the far side of the glen.  

It wouldn’t be a problem to climb over the wall - if it weren’t for the strands of barbed wire on either side.  I remembered seeing a makeshift stile over the wall many years ago and wondered whether it was still there.  We found no trace of the stile but it was a pleasant walk in the warm afternoon sunshine and there was a good view across the glen to Brookdale and North Barrule on the way back.  

After a wet Wednesday morning we drove out to Andreas in the afternoon to visit a dear friend, a fellow Schipperke lover, who adopted one of Alice’s puppies.  She has a rescue dog now, Max, a King Charles Spaniel.  He thought the visitors were decidedly dangerous and hid behind under a table.

He thawed slightly after a while and allowed me to pet him while I was sitting down.  But standing up - or especially approaching with a camera - was considered threatening behaviour so I couldn’t get any good photos.

On the way home we stopped outside the Andreas church so that I could photograph the rookery where the rooks were busy renovating the nests which had survived from last season.

I wondered why some of the birds were just sitting near their huge, messy nests.  But I found out that rooks have a tendency to pinch building material from unguarded nests so I expect they were security guards.

The nearest rookery to our house is about three-quarters of a mile down the glen road at Milntown.  Thank goodness, because they are raucous birds.  Not the type of dawn chorus that one wants. I remember walking past Milntown one spring and the rooks one one side of the road were competing with the lambs on the other side of the river to see which could make the most noise.

Thursday was another wet day - a very wet day.

I had to empty the rain gauge on Friday morning because it was close to overflowing.  Just over four inches of rain had fallen during the week.  Our stream was flowing strongly.  The  old leaves and holly twigs which had blown into the ditch had been washed into clumps and were threatening to block the flow of water.   So I spent the morning clearing out the ditch and carrying buckets of wet leaves up into the plantation.  I had nearly finished when I got a twinge in my back and decided to call it a day before my back got any worse.

We drove into Ramsey, our usual trip to the shops and library, and on the way back I saw another sign of spring . . . my first lambs of the year.

This morning my back was a bit stiff and achy.  I was feeling frustrated about having to put off any heavy garden work for a few days in case I aggravated the problem.  Then I saw a wren outside the kitchen window and ran for my camera - forgetting all about my back problems.  Our wrens are not very spectacular but they are rather charming.  They are also very shy and difficult to photograph.  The conditions weren’t great because the light was on in the kitchen and the window was not very clean.  I knew that I had to be fast so there wasn’t even time to focus carefully but at least I got two photos which weren’t completely blurred before the bird disappeared up into the Kowhai tree.

After that excitement, we walked up to the Brookdale top gate again.  The sky was overcast and grey and I didn’t intend to take any photos but I was rather impressed by this cone which looked almost metallic in the soft light.

We paused at the “view site” so that I could photograph the remains of the keeill - across the valley on Skyhill, almost three quarters of a mile away.  I am determined to visit it this year - even if it means tearing another pair of jeans while trying to climb over the barbed wire.  Most keeills on the Island are similar - usually just low grassy banks covering the remains of the walls.  But it is rather special to be able to stand in the exact place that people visited hundreds of years ago and look out across the same hills that they would have seen.