The Squirrel, the Magpie and William Blake

 

I looked out of the window this morning and rather than the usual gang of squirrels hanging around at the bottom of the bird feeder picking up scattered nuts, seeds and titbits there was only one.

(They can’t climb the bird feeder due to the ingenious “baffle” we’ve installed – otherwise they’d scoff everything and bully the birds away).

This one squirrel was busy burying items on the lawn, no doubt to eat and savour at a later date when the weather wouldn’t be so mild. He or she was totally oblivious to the Magpie, trotting along behind it, so when the squirrel moved on, the magpie would dig up whatever was buried and eat it.

Now squirrels are undoubtedly intelligent, their problem solving skills are second to none, but the magpie had street smarts. It was fascinating and had I not been ill and slow moving this morning, I might have been distracted and missed the little drama.

That, the sunset this evening and a walk on the moors the earlier this week where I got some beautiful photos of barren winter trees against the backdrop of the burning sunset reminded me of a quote by William Blake.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the Eyes of the Man of Imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.

Which leads on to the “William Blake, Apprentice and Master” exhibition I visited with my friend Mike a couple of weekends ago at the Ashmolean in Oxford.

I’ve always been fascinated with Blake, I’m no expert by any means, but like many people and subjects I know enough to keep me captivated and wanting to read and witness more.

He was a strange, radical, revolutionary, spiritual figure, devoted and excelling in many mediums, the written word, art, craft. Paradoxically loved and admired by people of both left and right (the hymn Jerusalem being used as the anthem for the labour movement and owned by the Suffragette cause), and by those with faith and those without.

The exhibition concentrated, as you would expect from the title on Blake’s growth as an artist and poet, from childhood to death, his influences and loves and how he honed his craft. It also focuses on the techniques he used, and innovations he created especially in printmaking (the video in the link above gives an insight). It has many beautiful examples of his work as well as a narrative on his life. My favourite items are his work illustrating Dante’s Inferno, so effortless and beautiful. One example below.

Dante and Virgil Penetrating the Forest - Picture Credit (Tate)

And the recreation of his studio in Lambeth was revelatory too, his hand printing press was a brute of a thing. As well as his delicate touch, and exquisite eye for detail, Blake was strong and stocky, he himself was able to turn the wheel, time after time after the intense labour time of applying ink when it needed to be dabbed on with a leather hoof type thing, before the invention of a handy roller. It is a disastrous shame that many of his works were destroyed or toned down (defaced) after his death, e.g. to remove genitals, for fears of upsetting the sensibilities of society. Who knows what further wonders of Blake have been lost to history. Definitely a great exhibition to visit. It’s on till the 1st March 2015. Ashmolean, Oxford.

Blackbirds and Dragonflies

All photos © Mel Melis

We moved house in May, we’ve got an old converted barn on the edge of the old moor. Beyond our hedge, a river runs behind the overgrown field. We’re very lucky. Summer took its time to arrive, but now it has we’ve had some amazingly beautiful days. We get the full glory of the setting sun from our back porch, the rays scattered by patchy cloud.

Somewhere in the river Kingfishers’ and Otters’ fish. I haven’t seen either yet, but I’m hopeful. I’m impressed with the birdlife in the garden though. Jays, finches of all sorts, swifts, tits and mammals too, most notably moles unfortunately causing mini subsidence patches where you tread and inadvertently collapse their tunnels. As well as that, in the dusk, bats, super manoeuvrable and quick, not much bigger than a bumblebee, chasing and catching moths in flight. Our most regular visitor though, is this bizarrely tailless and bold blackbird. We think she’s young. Skips right up to you.

Here she is gathering bugs from the lawn. I just happened to be lying down in the grass with my camera at the time. She posed several times.

Isn’t she pretty? Is she a blackbird?

And less than 100 yards away is a pond. On the day when it was over 30 degrees, I finished work about six and wandered down, dangled my legs over the wooden platform which overlooks the pond and watched the dragonflies duelling and mating. The pond was green with algae, partially evaporated in the heat, needing a top up in the dry spell. A pea soup.

The dragonfly behaviour was interesting. Some would position themselves on twigs or reeds and charge out to combat any intruders. Their flight seems to defy gravity, deftly forward, back and from side to side, occasional hovering, then with a speed that almost looks like a dematerialisation and teleport they appear hovering in another spot a split second later.

Needless to say I didn’t get any photos of them in flight, just when they stood sentry.

Not sure what species these are, there are several UK varieties. These were big (perhaps 3 inches long) but there were bigger blue / purple ones, who actually crackled when they accelerated, the power in their wing beat audible over the torpid silence of the murky green. Those big ones didn’t settle, they kept patrolling and harassing.

One thing I did notice is that this species mated in flight, after disengaging, the female (I assume) would then dip her abdomen into the water at various points, whilst still flying of course. Having researched it, she was actually laying her fertilised eggs. Should the larva hatch and survive, they’d turn into quite the pond predator. The larva can live for a few years under water, when they emerge, the dragonflies only live for a couple of months, their purpose seemingly to mate, lay their eggs and die.

Finally a picture of a bright little damselfly. The intensity of the blue is beautiful.

Storm Toad

 

Storm Toad

in the brief moment

of headlights catching

a snapshot of life,

brown-grey, born from clay,

the heavy stride of toad,

forelegs muscular, tense,

dragging,

pulling,

across the tarmac,

a river to cross, sheets of rain,

distant rumbles of death,

the spray of murderous tyres,

the searing light,

then unforgiving night,

resolute plod,

grim jaw dripping

with the residue of stormdrops,

mortar shells, boulders fall

all around

crash into mottled skin,

but though pained,

she’ll crawl on,

find the bed

for the long

winter sleep.

© Mel Melis 10/10/2012

Pegsdon Hills

As a Londoner by birth and background, I have to say I would probably find it quite difficult to move back to London. I’m a country lad now. All wearing my waxed jacket, flat cap, monocle, plus fours, land rover and shooting serfs, whilst throttling quails with my bare hands and making blood offerings to angry harvest gods who look like the hairy bikers. (not really, I don’t own a gas guzzling land rover!)

One of my favourite places in my adopted home of Bedfordshire is Pegsdon Hills. On the edge of the Chilterns it gives rewarding views after an exerting walk up. We drove past the Hills today, so it inspired us both to write our Haiku’s (check today’s “A Haiku a day”) and I dug through the photos we took of the area over the last couple of summers and in the last Spring just gone (it is obvious these are not January skies in the photos!)

Pegsdon Hills were forged by glaciers in the last ice age and you can see it in the contours of the land. Hills have been shoved up as the edge of the glacier pushed southwards, the power of the cold and ice testing the limits of the temperate world.

It’s amazing to think the ice cap covered most of the UK back then. It feels magical standing up on the ridge and looking down into the valleys and onwards to the beautiful patchwork fields which define southern England. It’s easy to imagine a sheet of ice extending way out in front of you, like a Neolithic pioneer eking out a living skirting the boundaries of their territory.

The ridge at the top of the hills is an old trail, which can be traced all the way to the South-West, dating back to pre-historic times, so I’m sure they are probably some flint tools secreted away somewhere. I haven’t found any yet, but sometimes there is a little sharp glint in the chalky soil, I pick it up excitedly, but it isn’t a tool, just a flint chipped naturally. One day.

The wildlife and nature is incredible, buzzards and red kites circle. A parliament (what a cool collective noun – I had to look it up) of Rooks, murders of crows all lie on the sunny hill banks, floating up in the air like a black cloud when disturbed.

Lapwings nest in a protected field too, beautiful birds.

But the most fun thing we’ve seen is two stoats, playing. We were downwind of them, so they didn’t see or smell us, we stood completely still and watched them play for several minutes. I managed to get a short film, only one of them stars in this clip I’m afraid, it’s a shame as they were chasing each other and rolling around, having great fun. But it’s still a decent clip involving some impressive gymnastics.

And the sunsets. The first pic is a tree that stands alone and defiant on the top of the ridge. It’s bent in the wind, but it stands strong. We’re very fond of this tree.

You can see the same tree in this next photo…. if you follow the line of the fence post upwards, it hits a bushy tree on the skyline… well look right of that, there is a skinny little tree, in fact it doesn’t even look like a tree, it just looks like two tiny dots on top of each other… that’s the tree in the photo above!

Another sunset shot.

* – No serfs were harmed in the writing of this blog.

** – All of the photos (and the film) are mine, all mine and you should ask permission if you wish to reproduce, on pain of having me invoke a harvest god come round your house and beat seven shades of shit out of you with his threshing stick.

Tales from the Moor

Warning : Includes Scenes of a Sexual Nature (just frogs though…)
I love this time of year, it makes me appreciate to change in the season from Winter to Spring. Just the briefest hint of watery sun, the tiny bit of warmth it offers makes me happy.
It also gets me out of my fitness stupor and I start emerging from my pupae, a plump and translucent skinned glistening lump, to strengthen and toughen as the days get longer.
I’ve started running a little bit again, had a mad few running days in January, but work put paid to my progress. Now, with the longer daylight hours I’ve no excuse really.
I love running on Flitwick and Flitton moor. In Winter the ground is too muddy, but now, it’s firm enough to not splatter too much, with a satisfying spring in the spongy peat. In times gone by, recent times in fact, up to the 1960s, peat was dug out for fuel. There is even an old peat cart and remnants of the tracks and runners it was pushed along, rusting away behind a hedge.
It’s also a great place for wildlife. I’ve been fortunate enough to see frogs mating a couple of times now (another of my blogs has a video of this phenomenon) Frogs Porn Video.
With a bit of patience, you can observe the writhing mass of their bodies and their croaking calls (once disturbed they become self conscious – which is understandable really, considering giants had just stomped up to watch them going at it)
The ponds in amongst the reed beds were just loaded with breeding frogs and their spawn. Their chorus an ubiquitous drone. This photo doesn’t really do them justice.

This close up came out quite well, I was taking photos into the sun, which meant a nice silvery effect from the water.

As for this chap (or lady) – you’re missing out! Get in the scrum!!

On that particular day, we also saw a shy heron, who flew away to a safe distance. In that they aren’t the most quick to get into flight from a standing start, they keep a safe distance from potential dangers. The heron is in the top right of the photo.

And here is a pic of the bark of a silver birch, which caught my eye.

We also saw a Great Spotted Woodpecker drumming from the top of a tall tree. In the distance, we could hear another male replying. It’s all about the territory, a peat turf war. He let us watch him for a bit, then flew off. It’s amazing to think they evolved to have heads with such insulation and shock absorbers as it was freakin’ loud. Head banging is bad for your health.
My wife Debbie is very educational, she let me know that the Great Spotted woodpeckers are the ones that hollow out trees to make nests. The other major British woodpecker species, the Green Woodpecker, aren’t really big on the pecking side of things.
You can hear them more than you see them, they have a laughing like call, which is what Professor Yaffle’s laugh was based on in Bagpuss. So that’s one mystery solved. Professor Yaffle is a Green Woodpecker… not a Great Spotted. And a quick google search shows that “Yaffle” is also a lesser known name for the bird in some areas of the UK. So there you go.

Although normally shy, in the breeding season (now), Green Woodpeckers can get surprisingly bold. I saw two of them displaying to each other, fluffing out their wings and swaying their heads at each other. They ignored me as I watched them. It was really fascinating.
Other recent sightings / news -
Buzzard
Within Southern England, this is quite a big bird of prey. We heard it first, it has a cat like call, it loped away with its big wings pushing it through the air. We’d probably disturbed its feast.
Red Kite
These beautiful birds are not endangered anymore. Once they were a common site, even in London where they’d eat carrion. They’d been pushed to the limits of extinction within the UK. But these distinctive birds with their forked tails are now pushing into the South East again. We see them riding the thermals, circling up high with their distinctive forked tails. They do manoeuvre like kites.
Skylark
Debbie pointed out our first Skylark sighting on 2011, somehow it can fly and sing at the same time. It seems to struggle through the air, buffeted this way and that. When there are loads of these birds flying and singing, it’s pretty noisy.
Kingfisher
Deb has seen them… I haven’t yet. Always looking for that flash of blue lightning whenever I cross the River Flit.
Deer
Muntjacs are the most common species in the two moors and the woods, but so skilled at hiding, you rarely get to see them. Escaped from a private collection (non native, from China), these small deer, with their unusual tusks are now all over Beds and Herts. I couldn’t believe reading a news article where dog owners complained about their pets being gored by these tiny animals. They should be under control when visiting the nature reserve… and all they were doing is defending themselves and their young.
Otters
Most exciting (if you’re into this sort of thing!) is that otters have been seen in the river Flit. We’ve not seen any yet… one can but hope!

Buzzard

A buzzard swept in front of my car this morning, it opened its wings majestically before effortlessly pulling upwards into the air. I felt it was a sign of some sort. It was beautiful. I wonder what buzzards taste of?