THIRD!!!

  You'd Better Fucking Believe It!!!

  In view of my last post ~ earlier today; It Actually fucking happened!!!

  Traps have fired. I've gone out there. " Hmm. Chaffinch and ..... What the Fuck is THAT?! "

  Granted; I don't have any glasses on. The birds, and I, are all moving. I'm right off balance here.

  Get them indoors. Let the strange bird into my catching box. Peer in at it .....

  Holy Fuck!!! I can't comprehend what I'm looking at. Fucking Meadow Pipit!!!

  I'm just, practically, speechless!  All the years we've had the Mist Nets up, here. Never caught one. 

  I've found their nests, a couple or so times. That was before I gained my Ringing Permit.

 (God! What a fucking waste! Nest Finders; Get Trained and Papered! We Need You!)

  But; To catch one, in a cage trap? Baited with fucking 'Bird Seed'?!  Right on top of my Collared Dove and Willow Warbler?!  

  Fuck it! I think I might well treat myself to a Second crafty ration of my Jameson, tonight.

  If a man can't celebrate shit like This ....?!  


(For the Purists? He'd just stretched his wings, as I pressed the shutter. I caught them on the way back to closed. But; What a cracking view of those coverts!)

If It Comes In Threes ....?

  Bring it on! :D I really can't wait to see what's next!

  I've got the Potter Traps out, again, ye see? Starling chicks are long since finished with, for the year. Now, it's back to catch as catch can.

  Yesterday was a Red Letter Day, for me though! I glanced out at my traps, on the track, and saw Three Collared Doves around them!

 Now, to you peeps over in the cess pit, that may seem a ridiculous statement. You probably get dozens of them, if ye so much as put a bit of seed out?

  Well, I've been hoping to draw them into my area for about a year now. One finally turned up, this year. Recently, two. Yesterday, three!

  Five minutes later? I had one, in my smallest size Potter! (Potter Trap is a rectangular 'cage' with an up / down door. Bird goes in. Door slips down)

  That Really made my day! My first ever Collared Dove! Gorgeous little creature, in the trap and the hand. Quite calm and docile. Blood red eyes watching ye.

  Fitting my first ever 'E' ring was quite the experience too! My Trainer found my consternation quite amusing!

  Most 'garden' birds just take a soft, aluminium  ring. Couple of gentle squeezes of the pliers and job done.

  These things are real steel! Christ! I was sweating blood as I crushed down on the damn thing! What a valuable lesson! 

  Anyway, That was fantastic. Today? I only reckon I've gone and capped it!

  I've looked out. Seen I had a bird. Went out to retrieve it. Chaffinch. To be expected. But, wait! There's Another bird, in another trap! Bonus!

  Hang on. WTF is it? Robin? No. (Walking closer) Green? Siskin? Get up to it? 'O M F G!!! I don't Believe this!' It's a fucking Willow Warbler!!!

  I have Never been so sure I was going to fuck up, and somehow loose this precious jewel, before I even got the traps back to the kitchen! I imagined it slipping out and me crying!

  As it was? Everything went swimmingly. And I had the Absolute fucking Privilege of observing this breath takingly beautiful little bird, right there in my Catch Box. 

  (My 'Catch Box' is  a box I made. Sliding door, one end. Perspex window the other. Rubber pop hole in the side, to take the bird out)

  Watching this stunning little bird, hopping around in there? It was truly a mind bending experience!

  I don't care how many Willow Warblers ye may have watched, skulking about in cover. This was a bird transformed!

  Calm. Upright. Hopping around. " Now then; What's going on here? " It absolutely melted my heart! Stunning little bird! (I've only ever ringed their chicks, in the nest, before. Never handled an adult)

  Really made my day ~ Again! So, if it come in threes? What next ....?

  There's a small family of Magpies, out there ..... (Offers up a silent prayer!)

  Oh! Nearly forgot!

 

Started Ringing My Starlings, Today .....

  Actually written on the 28th of April. Dunno what happened there!

  Funnily enough, every year, this stresses the shit out of me.  It's not the handling, positioning and climbing the ladder.

 It's not opening these boxes and  being greeted by that miasma which, believe me, only a starling nest box can hit ye with.

  It's not the certain knowledge that, by the time I've finished? Despite my years of experience and the crafty little tricks I've developed? I Will end up stinking of starling shit! 

   No. It's the fucking Weather!

  Starlings hatch. Then, they're in that nest for three weeks. Second week, they've grown exponentially. 

  Eyes opening. Feather points coming through. Grips like gin traps. That is when I want to ring them! 

   It's, frankly, shattering work. Because ye so focused. Total concentration. Trying to be quick, yet careful and correct as ye can.

 Ye've also got to be absolutely certain the conditions, outside that box, are right. Their lives are, quite literally, in my hands!

  And, I've been praying for those conditions. Because I have a couple of dozen, active boxes to do. Average of five chicks in each.

 Forecast has been wind, rain and dead starling chicks, for ever!

  Today? It simply wasn't so bad! No rain. Wind was in the right direction. This Was It! I have, probably, a ton plus chicks to ring. Here we go!!!

  Grabbed my gear and checked it. Bird bags? Check. Ringing pliers? Check. Note book? Check. Pen? Check. C rings? Ch .....Ang about!!!

  Rings come on 'Strings', see? Strings are colour coded. A rings ~ finches, tits and shit ~ Yellow. B rings ~ Sparrows, greenfinch, what ever? Brown. C rings. Starling? Orange. 

  And, a year since I rung a starling, I'm staring at this string of almost a hundred rings. And the plastic is very, Very fucking Brown!!! That short stub, beneath it, was Orange. 

  I had just Twenty fucking Starling rings left!!!

  How the Hell did That happen?!! For a whole Year now, I've had these damn rings, Laying There, in my kitchen. In clear view.

  How The Fuck have I looked at almost a hundred, tiny rings, on a Brown string, and thought; " Mm. Yeah. Ready for the Starling season! "

  Ah well. Life's a bitch. Phoned my boss; 200 Starling Rings will, hopefully, be here for Wednesday.

  Forecast ~ though That changes by the day! ~ is good. Hope and pray that it is. And the rings get here.

  It'll be close. It'll be intense. I'll end up covered in projectile starling chick shit.

  But; This is what I live for, now.

I've Reset My Virginity!

  With the amount of stress and fucking misery in my life, of late, I thought how I don't want this place turning into some litany of woe. But, reasons to be cheerful aren't exactly abounding, right now.

  Anyway, it occurred to me that I never mentioned one, absolutely stellar, life changing, mega event that sprung itself on me, a short while back. Thought I'd mention it here. Try to brighten the place up a bit.

 As most, on THL, will know; I'm a licensed Ringer. I'm trained and authorised and it's now, pretty much, 'What I Do'. Been at it years, now. I love it!

  I'm doing my bit for science. It keeps me out of mischief. And, my obsession with Starlings and putting up nest boxes for them is empirically proving to strengthen the local flock. Year on year.

 I ringed Eighty young, this year! When I got here, the entire flock only numbered that!

  When not getting drenched in starling shit though, I both hunt for nests and also put out cage traps for small birds. When my boss (my Trainer) comes up here, we have the mist nets out, and there's no telling what might get into them.

 The most memorable bird I've ever handled and processed was a Tree Creeper. In ye hand, that bird is just mind bending! It's like a little, many faceted jewel! The brilliance and beauty of the colours just blow ye away.

  I've proven quite good at finding Black Caps nests. Amazing how many there are, just around my place. But, believe it of not, the one bird I've had an absolute hard for, for all these years, is the Wood Pigeon! Yes! I dream of finding a woodies nest, so I could ring the squabs.

  Trouble is, woodies are borderline Uncommon, in Leitrim! One year, I saw a flock of Five. That was a Red Letter Day! Amazing sight!

  It's not that though. Something in me has just clicked for a woodie. A nest would be my only chance at one. And such nests would be Very few and far between. Still, ye've got to have a dream.

  So, a while back, I'm chatting to the boss. Trying to come up with more ways of catching more birds. We decided I'd have nothing to loose by putting down some of my waste canary seed, out on the track. In view of my window.

  This I did. And was soon gratified to start seeing small seed eating birds coming to it. Then, the other week, I bought a couple of kilo's of generic, " Wild Bird Food ". Plenty of bigger sorts of stuff in it. I started using that instead. Just a cup full a day.

  Eventually, knowing the track was safe from 'surprise visitors', I decided to put a couple of Potter Traps out there. Small, very basic cage traps. Wire mesh box that the bird walks into and the door comes down.

  Sitting here, minding my own business. Drifting round the fora. Glancing out every five minutes or so. Figuring I'd probably end up with one of the small band of chaffinches that so like the seed. Finished reading a post. Stood up. Looked out. Shit myself!

  There's only a fully grown, absolutely genuine, fucking great Wood Pigeon out there!!! And he's enjoying my seed, as he wanders round and round the two back to back traps! Please God ....!

  It was murder, because, with how the traps were arranged, when he walked round the back and down past one, it Looked like he was walking Into it! But, nothing happened and he'd wander right around them again. Pecking up seed as he went.

  Eventually though, I actually stood here and Watched as that beautiful muvva fukka walked right into one of my traps! The door came down. He gave a little jump. And I was Screaming at the Dogs to get in here, as I did a Usain Bolt for the gate!

  The rest is history. The feeling of just opening my hands, and hearing the " Clap! Clap! Clap! " of his wings, as he flew away? Just indescribable!

  I was shaking and breathless, when I rang my boss. What an experience! As I said to him; I'd finally 'lost my wood pigeon virginity'! At last! Mission accomplished. I was Glowing!

  Then, I said I needed a New 'Holy Grail'. Something else to day dream of ever getting to process. Something we get here. That could fit into my larger Potter Traps. And which it would just be an absolute rush to have the privilege of  Processing.

  Male Sparrow hawk might seem the obvious. But, I passed over them without hesitation. With a steely eye gazing off into the future. I just Knew which bird I must reset my virginity to.

   And, with the strangest of ironies, for a retired, rural pest controller; Would ye believe, the next 'Bird of My Dreams' is a Hooded (Gray) Crow?!? 

 Yep! Killed them, out of hand, all these years. Now, the thought of processing one and letting it go, with my ring on? Makes my mouth go dry!

 I've moved the traps aside, for now. Because Pat's coming down the track quite a bit. But, this evening, I glanced out there and my heart nearly stopped!

  YES! Stood there, right in front of my unset traps, eyeing up the bird feed. Gray fucking Crow!!!

  Game on!!!

Blackbird; I'll 'Ave 'Ee ....!

 Game on ....! 

I've been feeding the blackbirds their apples for months on end now. So much so that my weekly bag of apples has just become part of the household shopping list and budget.

Worth every last penny though. Just to be able to look out through the back door and see them scarfing down their life assuring rations, within minutes of me putting it out there.

 Always cut their apple in half, 'mind. They don't know what to do with a whole one, it seems. I've always cut them in half anyway. Just something I've done. I like to give them half, then, now that the days are longer and they have the time, I'll give them another half later.

 Anyway; I've had a male and, more particularly, a female out there for ages now. Both rung. (I'm a licensed Ringer and my Trainer and I have caught most of the 'resident' birds, in Mist Nets, and rung them long since). More than one male bird gets around here. Sparrowhawk took one a few weeks ago.

 Today though, I've seen 'my' female bird, enjoying her apple. Then, she's come out from the shelter of the hedge, where I feed them, and started bouncing around, pecking up the ground! 'My' bird's never done this before!

 She also looked 'different'. Her brown wasn't the same tones. No doubt about that. I've grabbed the bin's and focussed in on her right leg. No ring!!!  I was right; This was a completely different bird! Straight away, I decided we'd have to catch her and sort that leg out!  

 But, here's the best bit: Five minutes later, there's a Male bird out there. And he's fucking about, digging the ground and such too. Glass on the bugger straight away. Dear god! He's somewhere between 'warm brown' and 'browny black'!  Probably last years hatch then? And no ring!!!

 Fuck this! These birds need catching and ringing! God knows where they've come from. But, rings may let us find out where they go. How they get on as they go there. How long they live. All sorts of fascinating and useful shit ye never knew ye didn't know. 

 Ringing even just the birds in my 'garden' has expanded my knowledge and understanding of the True dynamics here exponentially. 

 You may observe the birds at your feeders. Count them, even. And think your finger's on the pulse? I used to. But, no. You're really just looking at a procession  of Chinese.  They all look the same and ye really just seeing apparent numbers. But, are they passing by? Or just walking endlessly round the block?

 You too could be amazed. Start Here. 
 

 

Ring Rage .....

 I actually wrote and posted this over on Jims, this morning. Just a knee jerk to get it off my chest. But, as I hope to mention my Bird Ringing adventures a bit more on here, now I have a limited C Permit, I figured this would be a place to start .....


I have just been screaming down the phone, to my Trainer! Absolutely fucking Raging!

Why so, ye might ask? I'll tell ye why. And it won't half help if ye at least know the most basic bird identities.

I'm allowed to trap sparrows and ring them. Right? Now, a sparrow takes a size B ring. Also though, I'm allowed to ring anything else that happens to go into the trap I set for sparrows. And, believe me, just about every other bird that flies takes an A ring. Okay?

So, Chris slung me a shit load of B's, in anticipation of all the sparrows I'll be catching. And, as an after thought, a few A's for those incidentals.

Well, for the past couple of days now, I've had the traps out. And boy, have I caught some birds! Coal tits. Blue tits. Dunnock. Robins. All stuff I've caught before and, frankly, frustrating me. Because a trap with a robin in it can't catch a sparrow, can it?

So, I've spent all morning emptying non targets and ringing them, 'just because'. In fact, I've now used up all my A rings. Put the last one on a rather sweetly trusting little robin. Robin that was hanging about the trap with a chaffinch!

Now, for some reason unknown even to me, I had a hard on for that chaffinch. Only a dowdy female. But, I've never trapped one before and I fancied it. Got the fucking robin instead. There went my last ring.

Looked out. Trap's fired again. Caught another bird. And Oh My Fucking God! It's a fucking stunningly gorgeous full adult, Male chaffinch!!! Beautiful rose breast and that striking blue hood. And I haven't got a ring to fucking put on him!

I've gone ballistic! I've rung Chris and started screaming! LOL! So fucking funny, looking back on it. Me, standing out there with this fucking chaffinch in my hand, ranting and raving to my Trainer as he pisses himself at me! Bastard!

Of course, once he managed to catch his breath, the giggling fucker told me what I knew: Nothing for it but to let the bloody thing go. No point weighing or measuring a bird we can never identify again.

So I did. My first ever self caught, male chaffinch. And I just had to open my fucking hand and watch if fly off. What a pisser!

I'm Gonna Be A Ringer ....!

  No! Din'! They're called " Campanologists ". Fucking rope hangers. See me yanking a rope to make some fucking great bell go 'Clang!'. Deaf enough as it is!

 No.  Ringing Birds. And I don't mean, " Hullo? Do ye offer a 'Full Service', home visit? " either. FFS!

 For anyone who's lived in a cave all their lives; This is about putting little rings on the legs of wild birds. Basically, we ring them in the nest or we catch them and ring them as adults.

  Ring has a # and that leads back to a load of information about that particular, individual bird. So, if I ring my Starlings, in my nest box right now? Their rings will be their little ID Cards.

  If one of them is then found dead, or caught by a Ringer, in Russia, three years down the line? He'll be able to trace that bird back to my cow shed wall. Hatched, May, 2011. I'll also be able to find out that one of my birds turned up in Russia.

 The scientists at the BTO (British Trust for Ornithology) will be number crunching Thousands of such records, of course. And that's how we come to have books and Papers, explaining how birds migrate and shit. 

 That sort of information isn't just snatched out of the ether. It's scientifically proven by quiet people, around the world, steadily finding nests and catching birds. Putting little rings on their legs. Recording it all. And adding that shit to the Big Data Base.

  This is something I've pipe dreamed of being involved with All My Life! But, I'd simply assumed the only way in was to be from a Grammar School ~ at least ~ education. Lick the arse of the local Nature Reserve Warden, day in, day out,  for years.

As well as being a non smoker. Not swearing, having a sense of humour, or ever taking ye head out of ye own arse. Except to lick the arse of that local Nature Reserve Warden ....!

 I dunno. Maybe, forty years ago, that was about right? Today? Forget it!

 Take the BTO. I'm involved with their Nest Record Scheme. I ~ like thousands of others across Britain and Eire ~ search for birds nests and record their progress. 

  It's headed by a Doctor. Obviously. Right there; Bet he went to Grammar  School. Doesn't drink. 'Retirement' age. Wears 'nice' jumpers, like Giles Brandreth, the whole shebang. Eh?

What? " Dave " ?! Ye fucking kidding me?! Listen; Dave and Carl are the two main men at the NRS. I'll never forget ~ and wish I could find! ~ a photo they published.

It was one of them posing a demonstration of how to search, with a stick, for warblers nests.
Caption read: " And here, Carl demonstrates poking around aimlessly, with a stick, amongst some bushes. "

 I laughed till I cried, when I saw that! Made all the better by the fact that this 'crusty, austere old wet blanket' was, in fact, patently young enough to be my son.

  And was having the piss taken out of him, by his colleague, who, himself looks like a Mad Hippy, in an official publication! :D Mad as a box of frogs, the pair of them! But, completely human and approachable for it.

Chris? The guy who's agreed to train me as a Ringer ~ an 'apprenticeship' which can take a couple of years! They don't just make ye do a days course and set ye lose to fuck about with wild birds, ye know?!

Chris' is also one of the best Nest Finders in Eire. He was here on Friday. Spent the afternoon with me. Muvva Fukka!!!

  I'll tell ye all about that, in a new Post. Otherwise, ye eyes would be bleeding, trying to read so much shit. But, there it is. I've been accepted as a Trainee Ringer.

  Shit. I've probably wasted most of my fucking life now. Because I always thought he had to smoke a pipe and wear a Fair Isle jumper to even be looked at.

Wrong!!!