Also as well....

Also.........I went for a walk Ullswater-ish.....simply because it had been a while.

I vaguely intended to head for my beloved Borrowdale, but ended up, because it was less of a drive to get there, re-visiting the granny walk along the eastern shore of Ullswater.....a stunningly beautiful, thus well trodden, and much waxed lyrical over path....and why not....I'm not proud......and it was.....stunningly beautiful...... but old habits die hard.....and after sauntering up the lake by steamer in sunshine with all of my fellow grannies as shipmates,

on arrival at Howtown, I asap struck off directly up Hallin Fell, direttissima style,  and arrived at the top in a bucket of sweat to walk the ridge instead......sort of.

Gloriously bathed in sunshine with views to die for, I found myself gradually ambling off track downhill to eventually join the lakeside route again.

A couple of 'mountain-bikers' were attempting to peddle the path a little ahead of me and were causing me endless amusement by constantly falling off in comical fashion.....tree roots and small rock steps clearly proving too much for their lycra- clad exploits....After I wandered by them for the umpteenth time as they extricated themselves from various pathside shrubbery, they ruefully informed me that they were to " *uck this for a game of soldiers".....sat down and had a picnic instead. I never saw them again.

After a long leisurely amble through sun-soaked fluttering Birch, Beech, Ash and Oak contouring alongside a shimmering blue lake,

 I reached the metropolis at the end of the water to catch the sailing back to the start. Oh happy day.

A little While...

It's been a while since I last put scribble to parchment,  but today, after completing my domestic errands, I found myself passing close to the local nature reserve, and so sneaked a few hours of relaxing casual perambulation amongst the sun-soaked woods.
When last visited, the woods were looking pretty forlorn in their sparse autumn, pared-down starkness.......all cold bare twig and branch with thin scattered ground cover, brown, bleak and shivering......today, however, the whole area was lush, green and verdant in "full-fat" summer rich livery...every tree in resplendent leaf laden bloom. The thick carpet of flourishing undergrowth and healthy hedgerow giving further evidence of summer's presence in this life-full green and pleasant wood.

Didn't see much...the bloody lushness effectively hid any feathered wildlife that may or may not have been present.....who knows..
Heard a selection of tweets and trills that I was pleased to sort of identify as I walked along, saw a butterfly

 and some fox-gloves,

and I then spent an hour or so in the lake-side hide,  immensely enjoying observing the water fowl, terns and gulls do their thing.

Was rewarded with the close-up sight of a jewel of a Kingfisher posing like a cliché on a branch sticking out of the water in front of me.

I walked back through the woods and caught a flash of Jay rump fleeing through the leafy canopy and also saw a G.Sp. (I think) Woodpecker.

Hardly a wildlife rich safari.....yet that simple period of being quiet for a while in amongst a beautiful natural environment was, as ever, a tangible boost to my mood and general feeling of well-being.

Whoever thought up nature.....boy did good.

The couple next door....

Don't know if I've mentioned it.......but Jack and Vera live across the road from me.
Jack and Vera are very much a couple. A couple of Jackdaws.
They live amongst the chimney pots on the chimney stack of the house opposite.
I have shamefully named them Jack and Vera after that eponymous pairing of Duckworths from television's "Coronation Street".

The opening title shots of terraced roofs and chimneys of that celebrated soap-opera, clearly suggested that the two beady-eyed birds opposite, with their raucous devotion, take on the monikers of that long-standing pair of pivotal characters.

I wholeheartedly apologize for my personification of those two particular specimens of  corvus monedula........but hey.


I have casually observed the comings and goings of J and V for some time now, and feel I know them quite well.

I have been party to their territorial defenses......(and it has to be said, you cross gladiatorial beak and wing with Jack and Vera at your own peril !).....and have cheered their valiant victories.

I have rejoiced in their feathered fledglings good fortunes, and actually witnessed their first-flights with dewy- eyed pride, as if they were my own.

I coyly notice the caring and sharing that goes on between them, and ridiculously feel their discomfort when wind and rain oblige them to hunker down, wet and bedraggled amongst their adopted ceramic flues.

I actually become vaguely concerned when they are not there, however rarely that may occur, and in contrast, take irrational pleasure in noting their constant presence each time I glance out of my window.

Thrilling two birds with one throne.

They naturally have absolutely not the slightest inkling of my own existance at all, and clearly could not care less about anything else other than their own endeavours......they're birds afterall..... but I cannot help regarding them as good neighbours........and in fact, thinking about it........…compared with some.....??!!

H

A few posts back, I looked back at my 'car history'...sort of...and equated each combustion-engined mechanized-memory with a few natural history based recollections, (along with some more obtuse recall) ......y'know, how yer do...
Well.......for no sensible reason that I can think of......I find I now do the same with "Houses I Have Known".......a short history of buildings I have lived in and, of course,  the associated 'natural' history nostalgia they invoke.
Why? ......I hear you ask.........as well you may...... er....I have no idea.......nevertheless...actually, trying to find images of each particular abode via the witchcraft of the Great God Google was an interesting exercise in itself and sparked a whole shed-load of off-shoot investigations in a whole host of directions,  laterally and loosely prompted by typing in simple addresses and the bewildering variety of results it engineered....the wonderfully wobbly world of t'internet has a lot to answer for......


My early childhood was spent in a very typical urban environment...…all purpose-built housing estate/Scout Hut behind the shops and Church based Community centre.
But it did spawn what was to become a lifelong interest in ornithology, outdoor adventure and obviously, an aspiration to become a real live professional explorer when I grow up.

Dutch bungalow of renown.....with much climbed roof accessed from bedroom window...just a bike ride away from the much visited woodland nature reserve...and blurry pic courtesy of old estate agent ad....the real house was never out of focus..as far as I can recall.


Fossils, Fluorspar, Finch and Cydrax......
Blatantly obvious bird-hides home-made out of soggy sacking and errant tent poles.

Then.........

Wonderfully , a move to idyllic rurality........to what was to become the 'family' home for all time.
Village location, mid Northumberland surrounded by glorious field, wood, stream and country lane.... a free, natural playground of boundless dirty-kneed adventure, and total release for a boy of horizon seeking intent...

Badger, Fox, Tit and Wren. 

Horses, Dogs, Chestnut and Elm, Oak, Ash and muddy animal print. Streams coursed, trees climbed....Foggy Bashers and Conkers.....

Endless sunny days of wandering in ever increasing circles amongst the folds and features of the local landscape. Hours sat in trees or by the bank of a stream......just being there. Or.....long winter walks in Christmas card white and wind-chapped autumn blusters along bare-hedged dampened lanes...

Onwards and ......downwards.....a brief first time sojourn in teenage rebellion.....an angst ridden episode of Kerouacian proportion in.......a distant city ( I have trouble believing it even now, that I should in my 17yr old wisdom decide to ' run away' to the bumhole of all cities (sorry)..to exist in sordid isolation.

A first floor cold water bed-sit in horrific inner-city squallor... 

Loved every minute of it...!   Weirdly.

Made friends, found life, and fully explored the underbelly of city existance.....I did not have a clue what I was doing. Heigh Ho.

Watneys Red Barrel, hedgehogs, bluebottles and illicit chemical recreation. The life-style of this misguided choice pretty much ensured that any interest or acknowledgement of the natural world was well and truly submerged in alternative activities. A time was had.

Next......in almost unbelievable contrast......a sublime residency in a stately home set in its own grounds and enveloped in beautiful rural surroundings once again.  

I shall not bore you with the details of how this came about, but my home (and place of work) became a suite of rooms in the staff wing of a rather splendid English country pile.....

Rook, Crow, Pheasant and Wagtail.

Pigeon, Dove, Robin and Blackbird.

Rabbit, Deer, car-bodge and Folk music....

This return to a more natural surrounding reminded me of, and reinforced my interest in, the wonderful world of ' naytcha'. A vague mish-mash of daily happenings all taking place amongst beautiful countryside...... village pub on the doorstep. Sweet.

ERM......and then this happened....

I went to live on an island in a windmill....nearly.

.....Rented rooms in house next door, but spent most of my free time, when not beach combing and traipsing around the local countryside, imbibing Rye and Dry in featured old mill.

Funny old life, innit.

Skua, Fulmar, Gull and Cormorant.

Cow, Donkey, Butcher's Van, Demis Roussos and waffles.

 Don't ask, I shall never be able to explain...

Upon return to the mainland m' hearties......

A spacious, if ramshackle, several bedroomed, out of focus terraced flat in a semi-rural setting......very sociable environs and comfortable lifestyle of little responsibility......but with, by now, an undeniable obsession with climbing up rocks on the sides of mountains. To the exclusion of all other aspects of life.

Raven, Grouse, Buzzard and Tubular Bells.

Cortina, pine forest and frame- rucsac and crampons.

(another blurry pic from annals of estate agency records)

And then....because of stated fixation with hauling my bones up any piece of vertical rock I could find, a whole series of temporary homes were experienced, in various parts of this country .....and others....including residencies in articles not usually regarded as living spaces per se...

                                                   Cottages

Hostels

Vans

Caves

Drying Rooms

Tents

Bothys and Bivvi bags...

.....and sometimes, proper grown-up houses....well, the floors of which that were borrowed from long suffering friends and acquaintances.....

Eventually settled in Gods own garden for a while....playing outdoor games and being paid for it.......bliss.

Too involved in activity to notice individual nature thingies!

But still recognising that all encompassing contented pleasure of being in, being part of, and being totally immersed in that mountain environment.

Every morning rising to be greeted with the sights, sounds and 'feel' of that treasured landscape....the air itself almost tasting of outdoor adventure....

Of course, yin to my yang then ensued...

A move to work in an inner-city based outdoor training establishment meant....

city street upstairs flat in amongst millions of other ......but .....

Backyard birding became important....

Sparrow, Starling and Tit on bird feeder and table the saving graces.....

Prowling cats and lead-living dogs abound...

An odd dual existence experienced as I plied my trade of outdoor activity amongst the brick walls, bridges and shopping- trolley infested waters of a ravaged cityscape....

But next came...

....a glorious return to rurality.......and some.....

A small roadside cottage in beautiful vale as my games of outside pursuit take me and my young family into pastures anew.....bliss re- visited.

Otter, farm stock, and all manner of upland wildlife of both fur and feather variety....

Bivouac nights and canoe trips. Jess the Dog.

High moorland and fellside softened by wooded valley and tumbling river. Felt rather than observed natural surroundings flush with flora and fauna.

Contrasts R'Us......as ever...when reality demanded change...

A modern housing estate visitation was dubiously experienced upon return to urbanity until.......

.....a quirky family home on the very edge of this urban unvirons, backed onto farmland became the longstanding, happy place of choice.

Back garden wildlife and regular forays to nearby rural places satisfy the nature longings within......

DA da daaaaa.......

Changes in personal circumstances dictate I then go live in a cupboard in a wing of a large country house for a while....

Strangely.......became a much liked abode for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was immediate access to the large country estate in which the house stood.

Kids camping in the grounds and sleeping on floor....

Amateur woodland husbandry and greenhouse herb growing...

Of course, then came the flip-side....

....a strangely pleasant period of upper flat living, again, in city center as personal circumstances change once more!....

Scraggy mobs of starlings, gulls and tired looking blackbird, thrush and spuggies.

Nearby country park an absolute god-send of natural tranquility....if a little litter and charva infested...

So.........

.....a latest move to a pleasant terraced house back in my 'home' small country town.......but.........watch this space........rumblings of a move to the long-wished for rural remoteness are being again evoked...but meanwhile, as has been previously reported elsewhere in these bloggy scribblings, I enjoy the proximity of woodland, river and 'country' life.....and take real joy in living amongst the local landscape.

No buildings were harmed in the making of this blog.

....and some pictures have been changed to protect the innocent.

Birds, huh ...

What makes us have a favourite bird.....or two....or three ? What is it about a particular species that sets it above others?
Is it just appearance?
Has it got something to do with the bird's perceived character?
The way it behaves...it's actions?.........who knows.
We all have them....favourites.
Ok, academic or 'scientific' interest in a specific type may be justified and explained, and be a reputable reason for special attention, but why do we 'like' a particular type of bird more than others.....for no discernable reason other than....." I dunno, I just do".

For me, I think, it mostly stems back to a childhood thing.... Maybe.
A vague mosaic of water-colour memories of first sightings and identifications of birds until then only viewed in illustrations or photographs in grimy-thumbed pocket-sized bird-books.
I-Spy and Observer.
Collins.
Wall charts.
.......fumbling, blurred glimpses through inept plastic binoculars...
Days spent wandering in fields and woods, notebook and sarnies at the ready.

Always seemed to be in either shirt and shorts warm summer sunshine or wool-wrapped and gloved, crisp pristine snow.

Anyway, whatever the reason for my own favoured list of suspects, seeing any one of the chosen few still gives me an unexplainable little spurt of special pleasure..!

Actually, to be honest, if Desert Island Discs ever comes a'knockin, in the same way that there is no way I could ever narrow my musical choices down to the allotted number, I can't see me limiting my favourite birds to just a few.........the more I ponder, the longer the list becomes...impossible to select...

It would appear that I'm just a whore when it comes to my avian-aimed affections...…nevertheless, here's just a few initial contenders for inclusion in the posse.......for a host of disparate reasons.....and in no particular order...