I am not an otter

In the same way that it's said Eskimos have 52 words for snow, the BBC online weather forecast seems to have about 500 different depictions of the sublte variations in the constant rain expected this week.



Summer is not here yet. Yesterday I wore my Barbour jacket (purchased in Chicago in winter to keep out the wind!) and a wool scarf. And I was still a bit chilly. Scott suggested we pretend it was October and then it would seen unseasonably warm.

I found a curious snippet in the Times Sunday magazine last weekend that sums up all that is wrong with this country:

THINK YOURSELF SUNNY
By Edwina Ings-Chambers

Hurrah, it’s the summer (almost). Except, hold on, this is Britain, so it’s almost guaranteed that rain will stop play. So, how can we keep thinking sunny?

- Reframe your thinking. “Focus on season indicators that aren’t about the weather,” says the cognitive behavioural therapist Rhena Branch. “New growth, flowers, window boxes, the smell of barbecues and all those other things that say it’s summer.

- Don’t be a perfectionist. “The British are famous for their intrepid spirit,” says the life coach Nina Grunfeld. “You can still head to the beach, even if there’s just a glint of sunshine, but take a cardigan.”

- ”If it does rain, try to imagine you’re a creature that loves rain, like an otter,” says Grunfeld. “Ask yourself how an otter would enjoy the rain, and see how you can bring those sorts of feelings into yourself by, say, putting on waterproofs and venturing out.”

Edwina, I don't mean to piss on your parade, but I AM NOT AN OTTER. Neither are you. Perhaps you are suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. A nation shouldn't have to tap the depths of its intrepid spirit to head on a picnic. WWII ended in 1945.

When birds attack

I birdwatch from my desk. My office is in a leafy part of town, surrounded by trees, shurbs, and therefore birds. I sit opposite a bank of tall windows, so I can observe bird activity all day long. There is even a family of thrushes living in a tree outside our conference room, and lately I find myself distracted during meetings, as the birds have built a nest and are now rearing chicks.

Yesterday evening, I was leaving the office and I saw a dark fluttering form on the path ahead--a bird. I was immediately filled with dread--at the end of a long day I was going to have to cancel the drink with Scott and friends I was headed to, and instead call the RSPCA animal rescue hotline and wait with the injured bird until someone arrived to transport it to a vet.

As I got nearer, I realized there were two birds, one on top of the other. Oh, great. Even more complicated. Now I'd have to wait with the injured bird and its panicked mate, soaking in their avian heartbreak-melodrama-tragedy--it was just too much.

But as I got even closer, the picture changed. I now realized it was a male sitting on the chest of another male which was dead. The live bird was pecking out the dead bird's eyes! The dead bird's little wiry feet were sticking straight out in front of it, like you'd see in a cartoon. The killer was so engrossed in its activity it did not move even when I eventually walked past! It just kept pecking and pecking. I've never seen anything like it!

A little research on the RSPB web site reveals that what I saw was most likely the result of a territorial dispute:

Male blackbirds establish a territory during their first year, which they will hold throughout their lives. The territory is essential for pair formation and nesting, although only a part of the food is obtained from within it.

Territory size varies depending on the habitat, and can be as small as 0.2 ha. Territory boundaries break down when the last broods have fledged and adults moult. During this period, territorial drive is low, and many birds will feed outside their territories at abundant food sources.

Territories are re-established in the late autumn, and from spring until July they are defended against all other blackbirds.

It's the little things

Scott works really hard. His job is demanding and takes up most of his time and energy. I've tried to get used to constant interruptions to conversations, meals, nature walks, entire holiday weekends. I've even retrained myself (mostly) not to talk to him on the bus in the morning as he taps away on his blackberry. It's not a natural state--he may be physically present but his brain is in an e-fog. I often feel like a minimized window as Scott multitasks (and I know that it's even worse for Scott--at least I'm not under the pressue he is). Next Guy Fawkes, I may burn a blackberry in effigy (Scott is tired of this joke).

So it was a pleasant surprise last night that on our brisk, chilly walk home from the bus stop, over the bridge, across the green and down our street, Scott and I shared my headphones and listened to The Smiths on my iPod. A completely ordinary thing, and yet it has been the highlight of my week. For what felt like forever, we were connected, in sync, and his blackberry stayed in his pocket.

Signs of Spring part iii

Walking in Bermondsey today, which is not a place you expect to see green things, I spied a pair of magpies in a tree (the only tree on the street) building a nest. They had a mass of twigs of similar lengths & widths and were in the process of weaving them into a secure nest with their beaks. One would jump back every so often, onto an adjacent branch, as if to size up their progress. Amazing to watch!

Curious about what I saw, did a bit of Googling and came up with some interesting info. According to various bird sites I consulted:

"Both birds build the large nest, which can take several weeks to complete, from small branches and twigs, and line it with mud and vegetation. The nest is usually in a large tree (but sometimes in pylons) and domed to prevent predation by other crows, but some birds do not bother."

Also in the spring, "large numbers of Magpies often gather to resolve territorial conflicts and social standing. These gatherings are called parliaments."

On a related note, "breeding magpies hold a territory of about five hectares (12 acres) all year round. Because nest sites are limited, between 25% and 60% of magpies in an area do not breed."

So not only were these two quite skilled builders, they belong to a small breeding subset amongst celibate peers.

Signs of Spring continued

Some images from Kew Gardens from last weekend:

I love a kestrel

A clip from my new favorite TV show, on BBC2--Earth Pilgrim, with Satish Kumar. Check out the amazing kestrel starting around 1:10.

Signs of Spring

Spotted today while seated at my desk:

• a bird gathering twigs to build a nest in a tree outside my window -- observed for about 20 minutes making multiple trips from ground where it collected materials in its beak up to its perch
  
• a Buff-tailed Bumblebee queen buzzing clumbsily around my window. According to the Bumblebee Conservation Trust, fertilized queens are often among the first bumble bees to appear in spring, searching out a suitable place to start the new colony. They are commonly seen in late February/early March after having hibernated in a hole in the ground or under moss for the winter.
  
• two of the many lady bugs who hibernated in our office this winter waking up and diving into coworkers' computer screens (they were escorted outside)