Starlings .....

 Yeppers. I intend to dedicate an entire Post, 'just' to starlings. The ugly, dull, noisy, shitty little birds one sees squabbling over a bit of discarded fast food in the gutter.

 Do ye really view them that way? Think again. Here's one in full summer plumage:

 Courtesy of: Copyright Free Photos Org.

Would ye believe, over here, they're actually about the Last bird I'd expect to see 'In Town'? My idea of Town, of course, being two streets, behind every side of which is open pasture.

 No. Here the Jackdaw is the 'Street Bird'. Pied Wagtail comes second. Rooks are ubiquitous ~ but, confine their ground level activities to the fields behind the shops and houses.

 Out here, where I am? I've had a pair of starlings nesting above my Store Room window, for at least the first three of the last five years. Never even looked last year, when I had the windows below replaced.

 Barely six feet off the floor? That, to me, suggests a bird looking hard for a spot. That's why, this year, when I put a Nest Box up for them, I put it about twelve foot up.

Facing north. On the back of my cow shed, where they'd be left in peace. Starlings like their peace.

 Here it is:

 March 15th that went up. Had a starling laying claim to it by 7th April. About a week after the winter flock broke up.

 Past couple of winters now, I've registered ~ and recorded ~ that there's a flock of c.50 sticks around this area. Where do so many come together from? Where do they go, when the flock breaks up in spring? 

 I have no answers. But, having now rung the youngsters in that box this summer; Maybe we'll find a clue in due course?

 Anyway, within a week, that bird had a nest of Juncus Rush stems built. Big, deep, messy looking affair.

Funny how hole nesters, like starling and jackdaw seem to like filling cavities with rubbish. 

Here it is, look: 

Box stuffed, about four fifths with extraneous crap! Next year, all things being equal, I must try offering a shallow nest box too. 

Test the hypothesis; 'Do birds fill deep holes because deep holes are all they can find? Or, do they do it for some reason known only to themselves, yet prefer?'

 By 20th April, they had a full clutch of five eggs. I don't think Fabergé could improve on nature here, do you?

  Sorry if these photo's aren't exactly art works themselves. They're usually taken in a great hurry ~ so's to lessen disturbance to the birds. 

At arms length. Off a ladder. And, obviously then, 'Blind'.  I just get the best I can, under the circumstances.

 Anyway, all went well for 'my' starlings. I'd provided then with what I'd take to be an optimum sized box. Placed at a good height and in a good position. 

Thus, a week or so back, I was privileged to ring five, fat and healthy youngsters in there.

 They were a tad older than this, when I rung them. And, yes; They shit all over me! LOL!

That was May 13th. In fact, on April 18th, I saw another pair of starlings drooling over the occupied nest box. I set to and made another box there and then. Had it up within the hour.

 That second box was adopted by a pair about a week ago. I've since seen them dragging in the nest material. 

I suspect, right now, she'll be laying. She'll probably lay her full clutch just about the same day as the first pairs brood fledge.

 I built them. And they came! Have you any idea how fulfilling all this has been, is being, for me?

 Starlings are declining. Probably because they simply have no where left to nest, in this 'Rip that rotten shit out and slap some nice UPVC in' world. 

 A nine inch plank of rough sawn timber, and a few bits and pieces? Home for about three families.

 Want more information? Just ask :-)
 

Land Surveying .....

No wonder who ever does this for a job can charge a fortune! You ever tried it?!

 I own a little scrap of land here. My cottage is on it, obviously. Then there's a few out buildings and the various features that define the area. Hedges, ditches, tracks and such.

 Thing is, see; Being countryside, my markers are fences, hedges and things. Open fields in between. I can't say " 43, Acacia Avenue " and anyone know where I mean.

 And, talking about, " About two thirds down the hedge along the back of the field below the trees. " Would be about as much use as a one legged man at an arse kicking contest.

 Yet, I'd like to be able to create a map of the area. Detailed enough that, when I keel over, someone else could locate my wild bird Nest Boxes. 

So, armed with both a 30M tape and an electronic gadget called a Range Finder ~ think of binoculars which tell ye how far away the point or object being viewed is? I thought I could crack this.

 Fuck me! Measuring the outside of the cottage wasn't too much drama. Lots of note scribbling. But, I got there.

 The cow shed and horse pen were a bit more complicated. I had to measure off fixed points, like gate posts. And there were turns and distances across tracks and such. But, I stuck at it and reckon I got it all about right.

 I'm plotting all this on graph paper, see? One tiny square to a meter. Quite enjoying it. Seeing the map take shape. First my own land. Then sneaking out to cover the fields and tracks surrounding me.

 I can take this as far as I like it, of course. And I'd very much Love it to encompass all of Pat' and Noel's lands too. I have boxes up on their properties too, after all. I could also plot 'Open' birds nests.

 It's the fir trees that fucked me up. Pat has this fenced in stand of sitka spruce, just behind my horse pen. A rectangular piece of ground. Professionally fenced.

And I took tape readings of its length and depth. Then I taped from its edge to my track, across the horse field.

 That's when it all fucked up. When I counted the squares from the fence to the fence around the trees? That fence joined the horse pen at the far end. 

But, out there, standing beside the fence? It hits the back wall of the horse pen, two yards in from this side. Horse pen wall's twelve yards long ..... Fuck.

 Swear to god; I've been out there with everything. Taking and checking my measurements from every fucking fence and gate post. Everything measures up. 

Yet, nothing makes sense! Those trees and their fence are a good ten meters to one side of where the measurements put them! Bastards!

 I've tried to 'Triangulate' shit 'n all that. Thing is, my Range Finder doesn't seem able to measure a distance inside about twenty five meters. Too close for its own signal, I guess? 

Then it started raining. And I was running in and out, trying measurements and still coming up right and wrong. It all got a bit much.

 I'll try again, tomorrow. Fresh head on. To be honest? The real nigger in the wood pile here is the Blackcaps nest. I have them tucked down, right in the key fucking corner I'd like to shoot some range rays out of.

 Very nervy birds. They'll desert if ye so much as look at them sideways, in the early stages of incubation. Once the young have hatched? Hell, we'll be ringing them! But, for now though? I don't want to go within eight foot of that nest and eggs.

 Damn. I've been sat here, staring at my map, so far. Trying to spot the angles. Thinking how I'll need different coloured pens and felt tips, to illustrate features like hedges and Nest Boxes.

 The light's going now. But, I can still see the gate of Pat's cattle crush at the top of my track. If I measured the gates there and the width of the track? I could take a bearing from the big ash tree and .....

 Why can't I just relax and do anything by halves? Maybe it's because I'm so damn aware of how little time I might have left .....

Shit needs to be done. I want to leave a record of my work? I have to do the work to Make that record.

 Busy day tomorrow .....

Never just assume ye'll still be here next year.

This Is Encouraging .....

 I've just realised that I haven't had a 'Comment' in a week or two. Nothing so unusual about that. Enough of ye find the system simply defeats ye. Understandable. It's beaten me to my own knees more than once. And I run the fucking place!

 More than that though; I realised there were no 'ticks' in the little bit there where ye can 'Rate' a post. Click on the box to say ye found it " Interesting ". " Funny ". " A Complete And Irredeemable Waste Of A Valuable Few Minutes Of Ye Life ". What ever.

 Well; That can give one pause to wonder: " Is any cunt actually looking in here any more? " . I wondered. In fact, I wondered so much that I did something I rarely bother to do. I checked my " Stat's ". I can do that here.

 How nice :-) There's a nice little, double figures a day popping in here! I've never had ~ as far as I'd know ~ and certainly never expected Hundreds! Why on earth would I / should they?

 No. As long as some peeps are bothering to drop by and check for new stuff, every now and then? That's nice. It shows I'm not wasting my time, Comments, 'Ratings' or not.

 This sort of thing though gives one pause to wonder:

WTF?! 

 I mean; What the fucking hell is That all about?! What language is that? What was the person searching for? How long before life on Saturn picks this up and thinks; " What The Fuck is this 'Ditch Shitter' lunatic on?! "

Bugger! The thing is; I came in here to mention that point, just as a swift opener to a whole load of stuff I wanted to talk about. 

Trouble is, the shit I wanted to tell ye about is still happening. It's sending in news like bullets flying around my head. Net result is that; It's taken me so long to respond to Half the goings on here, I'm now too fucked to type sense about it!

 Never mind. As I quietly cave in tonight, thinking of a rushed and busy tomorrow? Good shit is bound to be made. 

 Jesus, how ironic. All 'winter' hunkering down, surviving. Now 'summer's steaming up? I'm so fucking busy doing shit, I haven't got time to sit typing about it!

 Shit I'm gagging to talk about:  Dogs, Birds, Nest Boxes, 'The Idiot', Irish Law', Mink, The River In Town, Mink Rafts, Biodiversity, Tidy Towns Committee, Horses, Home Brew, All sorts!  

I'll get round to most of it ~ sooner or later. Just a bit hectic right now. Check by to keep up! ;-)

Kudos To Dean O' .....

  So, cutting to the chase of an otherwise extremely long story:  Dean O's pulled up at my place, tonight. Just after I realised that really was fucking Snow flakes I was seeing ....!

  Never mind that. I'm ready to roll and have my Gray Wagtail nest box in my bag. Pair of Obo nails in my pocket. And I think to check Dean has a hammer in the van.

  He has. We're all set then. This evening, I get my Gray Wag' nest box popped under the bridge in town.

 One of us to hold it in position. Other to beat the masonry nails into the underside of the bridge. Team work. Fuckin' easy.

  Stopped off at Dean O's, on the way. He grabbed his Hilti Gun ~ why beat spikes when ye can blow them in? And his own gum boots too. We had water to walk in. Unknown, but certainly above the ankle depth. 

 Fuck almighty! First, the gate to the bank to the river's padlocked. No worries. We're big boys. Over the fence ~ wrong side of the fence / bridge. Dean 'O points out how we'll easier approach the bridge from the other side. Off we go.

 It's getting dark, by now. Just how deep Is this fucking river anyway? Looked a piece of piss, last week. In broad daylight.  Tonight, I watched carefully, as Dean O' trod, carefully. I made sure to try and tread where he had. 

 Crouched over. Carrying weird shit to be carrying under a bridge in town. In the dark. It felt like 'Being in the SAS'.

 Well, it probably felt nothing like that. But, weird, uneasy, scary as this felt? Fuck being in the SAS! This was quite enough 'excitement'.

  Then the Bangs!  There's Dean firing the Hilti, to shoot the nails in. Only, it's more like " Bang! Ping! Fuck! " This fucking tool fires nails into scaffold tubes. I've seen it. But, natural Irish stone rocks? No fucking way!

 Just as he ran out of nails, I felt one stuck in the wood of the box! Bastard things had been ricochetting around our fucking ears in there!!! FFS! It Was like being in the fucking SAS!

  So, this box is plainly coming back home with me. I'll need to figure something else out. But, I suck it up and don't make any miserable comments. We'd tried.

 Then Dean O' says the most remarkable thing. He says; " Only way to do this is to use an SDS drill, and plug into these stones. " I, 'jokingly' say that, yeah; But, I don't think any of my extension leads will reach this far.

 " No. " Comes this voice in the darkness. " But, mine will. If I bring the generator ..... " Then I hear purposeful strides against the current. He's off .....

 All fucking credit to the guy. I mean, this is my baby. Yeah? My project. I'm the one obsessed with fucking nest boxes. It's also Friday night. Dark. Freezing fucking cold and we have " Dexter " waiting to be watched and beer to be consumed.

 But, no. He's slung the tools back in the van and drove all the way back to his place. Fucked around, testing the genny. Loaded up some more tools and driven us back down to that god forsaken river.

  I now have a Gray Wagtail nest box securely positioned beneath one of the bridges in town! I'm a Fucking Happy Bunny!

 The knock on effects of that box being there will now spread, like a tiny, soft ripple, through the whole community. And it'll bounce back too; To the benefit of wildlife. How cool is that?

  And all because my mate, after a damn hard weeks work, was willing to pick up the tools and sacrifice another hour of breaking his fucking back, stooping around beneath a dark bridge in a freezing river.

  I fuckin' Salute the guy!
 

And, Some Where, In Darkest Leitrim .....

 Ditch Shitter stirs .....


 Well ..... Wow! ..... Fuck! ..... I s'pose That was 'Winter', again, eh? Muvva fukka!

 Creepy how, looking back, I always go quieter as the calendar year ends and ~ as it happens ~ my birthday draws closer with the end of the year. 

 Freaky shit. I wonder if I'll just go quieter, one of these years, then never re emerge from my own spot of hunkering down through the harder times.

  Or if I'll just shut up, in mid flow, one of these days, and be gone for ever more. Just a ghostly segment of shit on Google Cache and the odd forum.

 Weird shit to think about. Sure. But, then; I got " 'flu " ~ or some shit ~ this winter. Haven't had 'flu in about thirty years. Always swore a dose, now, would surely kill me. Fucking near did! 

 Really weird experience. As far as I remember? Fine, 31st Dec. Woke up 1st Jan? Rough! (Though I'd Not over taken the night before. This was weird shit!)

 Then there was a few days where I just lost a 'Day' or so! Stupid shit like sleeping for 24 hours plus! I remember, one point, waking up at 02:00 and having to stagger about like a blind drunk ~ stone cold sober! ~ feeding my Dogs and even mucking out my horses! 

Fucking wonder none of us starved to death 'in my sleep'!

 Anyway, no; We're all still with us. I'm with It again. I hope to get back to being with You. Just 'dozed off' there, as I tend to do when all there is to think about is my creatures and I keeping fucking warm, fed and alive. 

 Magpies are creeping in. Carving up 'my' land into their own little parcels. Gray crows too are quartering the fields out there. 


 And here's me, getting ever more rabid about protecting and providing for our hard enough hit, small, wild birds. I'm making Nest Boxes like a cottage industry. Spending even more hours getting the word out, on a receptive forum board. 


 So on. So forth. I'm back.


Look out for shit about Dogs, horses, birds, shot guns, bad habits, good drugs ~ prescription ones! ~ and any other shit that occurs, now that I'm thinking again. 

 Later!