Torture

I can see why sleep deprivation is used as an instrument of torture. After a few sleepless nights my mind is woolly and I ache from head to toe. I have enjoyed 3 blissful nights of gentle deep sleep. So this morning I thought I'd have the energy to go out bird watching along the river Otter.

I had the energy I just didn't realise how freezing cold it would be. I had put on enough layers to make me waddle like a Michelin woman. But the cold wind attacked my head [I know, I forgot a woolly hat], my gloved hands and my feet. Over the last 9 years winters have been so mild I'd forgotten just how cold it can get. I didn't see any birds other than gulls and mallard. I could well have missed some interesting sights but my eyes were watering so much I gave up. I went instead for coffee in Otterton Mill; re-opened following the recent floods.

While leaving I saw a very fat ginger cat which welcomed having a big fuss from me - I am still feeling very cat deprived. This picture is from an artist's website. Why not pop over and take a look. There are some impressive originals.

Spring is in the Air

Spring is in the Air .... all the birds and squirrels are busy seeking out and fighting over food and mates. The badger has upturned and broken 3 of my pots. I'll have to buy new pots now to house the huge hostas which are just about budding above the surface. Shame the badger is a protected species... they are always digging up the lawn, my shrubs or breaking pots. I'd break their necks given the chance ...

Noisy Neighbours

Apart from the Rookery at the top of our garden we have quiet neighbours. But Rooks do make rather noisy neighbours. There is a small copse at the top of our rear garden. It contains a fair sized Rookery. It increases in numbers yearly. I've lived with Rooks for nearly 27 years - from Gloucestershire to Devon. I rarely notice their chatter. Visitors find them noisy and distracting. Especially when we are having a garden tea party. I love having them around. They are far less of a distraction than a passing plane or an air sea rescue helicopter clattering overhead. I'm glad to say there are not as many as was shown recently on a BBC television programme.

I can see the rookery from my kitchen window so am aware of thier daily goings on. I don't know what it is but something makes them suddenly swirl up in the air with a clamour of calls, wheel about for a while then settle back on the perches. I usually notice the movement first then I hear the sound. On reading this article I see it may predict weather patterns; I'll have to try and see if it does fit with this observation during this year.

The raucous calls, the arguments, disputes and gossiping chatter. No wonder the collective nouns for rooks are Parliament, Building or Clamour. The make fascinating neighbours. Always industrious they are invariably repairing or rebuilding their nests. Sometimes their chatter continues intermittently throughout the night. Less so in the cold depths of midwinter nights.

Now behind the copse of trees at the top of our garden there are many arable fields. These fields are always full of feeding rooks during the day. But not from 'our' rookery. No our rooks fly off each morning in a north easterly direction. They cross paths with rooks flying in from a north westerly direction to feed in the fields behind us. Rooks commute. Single rooks also have an odd way of flying. As we live almost at the top of a hill we get to see many individual birds flying towards us at eye level. Rooks have a strange sideways flight. They rarely seem to fly from A to B in a direct manner. They seem to flap their wings, looking left and right as they fly and travel at a drifting angle. It's very hard to predict exactly where they intend to go. In spring when they are carrying large twigs back to the nest they often drop them just short and our garden rapidly becomes littered with very large twigs.