Sunday, 15 March 2015

Gan doon tha dakpoond man

 On Scilly we don't feed ducks, we feed Yanks!!!

So residency on Scilly is predictably invigorating, a plethora of rares bounding upon every orifice and margin. But with these rares comes the possibility of not seeing them, heartbreak, brainfreeze, paranoia and backwards pants. Several of these instances occurred during last autumn where I missed Corncrake in the hand, or should I say Corncrack handjob while I worked barely a hundred yards away....

Recently a Ring-billed Gull was found on Porthellick, virtually nobbing distance from my place of work, so I did the honorable thing and got really angry and had a tantrum. 

As luck would have it, whilst out scouting for Wheatears, or Wheateyes or white arses myself and a friend stumbled on the lip lubricating adult bird during a cursory scan of Porthellick..

 Its helpful when the only gull present is rare and easy to ID..




 After a moment it was off, punching through the air like an angry zombie possessed carcass, and due to its previous flakey nature we thought that was our time with this ring-rimmer over. How wrong could we be.

Once again I was out polishing the migrant stick up the Golf Course imagining that, yes, soon, there'll be some migrants arriving! I decided that migrants were for losers and the plastic ducks down at the duckpond won't answer (or Anser? or Anas?) back, plus a White-spotted Bluethroat jam sandwich could be tasty also. Upon passing said duckpond on my bike, cruising slow like a rapper, I was amazed to see the adult Ringo parading up and down the wall with the ducks!!
 






 Showing rather well what what, my dad arrived with bread which I duly did illegal things with...





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