Brids are all anruod us, weverher you go in the crustynoide. Or eevn in yuor fnort gredan or on mowaorty veergs ! Taths why brid-snotpitg is so ploupar and etnicxig ! Borcinluas are not ralely enistasel for a binneger And you wlil palbobry get a piar wehn you gorw odler. And ocen you are talotly cretian you are mad aubot ogionorthly you wlil no dubot get a topecsele. And tehn yur furtue wlil be absirnbog ! Basucee whinctag bdirs is ... ....fincasting .........cluforoul ...........tihlnrilg .............and ...............barkitantheg ( tath's a tickry one !) ... elscepilay the cramnorot ! it's all too buufiteal........... Wath a barkitantheg snog !
All taht is besad in the ieda taht you olny need the frist and lsat lertets . All the in-bentwen suftf can be any old jebmuld-up carp ! Oslivuboy ....
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Now here's some people who have persuaded themselves that they've found "something." And they've rather hastily put a name to "it". And they've brought this "something" to their version of "The Rarity Committee" But bit by bit their ID turns out to be rather dodgy ...as you will see ,,,,, Well.... that's probably pretty close to the way the Rarities Committee works. Thinking about and discussing the various possibilities. And then putting them to the test .... just like they have. And using irrefutable, cast-iron logic and experience to reach the right decision. Fair and Square. Yep .... that's probably as close as we're going to get to what they really do ! And the events in that video ... that was only in the past .... Run away to the seashore it doesn't matter anymore Doesn't matter anymore Words dry up and fly away with the passing of the days Eventually you just let the stone fall Chorus: I dreamed that I saw you you were down at the corner store You were looking through magazines and you flew out the door I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past Only in the past My palms are not open they're closed they're closed My palms are not open they're closed they're closed (Chorus) Colours streak the sky we laugh and we cry And we dance in the cool grass with the fireflies And we dance in the cool grass sunset birds Sweet sweet music swallow our words You set sail and you left this town Run away, run away, you're so far from me now So far from me now (Chorus) (Fade out) .... I said I would show you where that index came from, the one in the previous post .... so here it is ...
Don't worry about this lot just yet ..... you'll soon find out who they are ... Here's various bits of an index .... the index of a well-known bird book ....... but what's going on ? Why have I picked out just these little chunks ? Here's another bit .... and a few more ... all from the same index .... if this doesn't make it obvious, nothing will ... ....... there's more than one in this one ... and another ... a right cat's funeral this one ... .. it would have been funnier if it was Back-legged instead ... ... or maybe Black-egged ! ... the "pitfall probabilities" are proliferating .... there's two conk-ups in this .... including a very odd Latin name ... ..... another fine mess..... So .... I had great fun going through that index and turning up more and more of them ..... and as for those people pictured up at the top, I'm sure you've guessed that they are all called Craig Martin ..oh yes. And as for the music ....... Daisybox with an acoustic ( sort of) version of " Pause" But obviously the big question is .... what book was that index in ?
I'll show you in the next post ..... If any of you know of a bird-related index more chaotic than that one, I would love to hear about it ... [email protected] This morning a bashed-up juv Blue Tit appeared on the bird-feeder closest to the window. Its plumage was generally all dishevelled, and its throat and the left side of its neck looked bare and red. I tried to get a closer look at it but my downstairs binoculars couldn't focus closely enough. So ... I put the bins in " monocular" mode with the "adjustable" side to my eye and swizzled the eye-lens dial, and that got it into sharp focus even though it was only about 3 m away. I've done it before in similar circumstances ... it works very well. In the close-up view,the Blue Tit in question had raw, red-tinged bare skin all over its upper breast, the front of the neck and the left side of its face. But it seemed to be operating well, in spite of that. But what I thought was ... I wonder if everyone knows that "using-it-as-a-monocular-and-twizzling-the-twizzleable-eye-lens" thing ? Well, if you didn't, now you do .... go on, try it today ! You never know when it might come in useful. But don't forget to readjust it once you've finished ... or else next time you use them "normally" the image will be blurred. I know, because it's happened to me. Right then .... now you've got the Know-How ...... ..and here's the words video so you can sing along .... Actually, constellations don't stay the same .... each star usually has its own "proper motion" and over the millennia the shape of the constellation will change to a greater or lesser extent. In addition to that, stars can change their magnitude both in the short or long term. So there.
This one's all about what birding was like in The Olden Days. .... I bet you never knew that Samuel Pepys was a keen Byrde-Spottyre. I apologise for the various overlapping bits .... and I'm sure you will understand that the printing back in those days was v. poor ! Well, it goes on and on in the original diary, but the handwriting gets worse and worse and is increasingly difficult to decipher. But at least we now have a tiny glimpse into the leisure activities of a giant of English literature, and I don't just mean Pepys either ! and now, the music .... I just like this ..... les Mains Balladeuses ... Here in sunny Flintshire we have, as you know, the Flintshire Bird Club. It has a Committee, and a President, all that sort of thing. But the real " leader" in Flintshire birding is "The Flat Controller." He's a bit like that bloke up there ... minus the junk. He's not even in the FBC either ... but he's a sort of self-appointed boss. He doesn't actually know we call him that ... well, I don't think so. The reason why he's called that is his incredible thinness ! I bet he could easily slide under my wardrobe. I hope he doesn't though. On one famous occasion he entered the Weetabix Hide at Grumbling Stumps., famously named after the generally crumbly state of the walls and floor, and one of the planks was a bit, er, frail, and he went straight through its 4" width into the 5 feet of sludgy water below, and then stood there like an idiot as everyone laughed themselves sick ! Some of them were rolling around on the floor helpless with mirth. He's known all over the UK ..... if you go into a hide in, say, Norfolk, and they find out you're from Flintshire, they immediately ask "Do you know The Flat Controller ?" and then they tell you some strange thing he's done.... usually involving getting into their cars by squeezing through tiny gaps in the bodywork or very-slightly-open-windows ..... nobody really knows why .... he just can't resist it. I bet we'd do it too if we could. Just for the sake of doing it. Once he's got in, he often leaves a packet of biscuits or cakes and a few cans of Guinness perched on the dashboard .... it's an essential part of his thinning routine so you can't really blame him. He also has a habit of dragging people into his little private "reserve" ... and if they won't budge, he quickly slides inside their clothes and "runs them into the premises" and then slithers out of their clothes again, leaving his poor victim to make his/her own way home .... . assuming they will ever be able to find their way out. It's a neat trick, but having had it happen to me, I must say it is a bit startling. On the positive side, when he does these odd things, he always owns up and tells the truth about what happened .... now that's unusual and praiseworthy. If you have had any odd encounters with The Flat Controller,you could tell me all about them, and I could put them on here. And you might have really good things to say as well ... let's have them too. [email protected] Here's a Doors song which fits quite well .... this is a fine cover of " People are Strange" ...... A few posts ago I came up with an awkward question... .... which UK county has the longest bird list ? I happily confessed that I had v. little idea of the actual answer, though I did have an "opinion ". My opinion was, I can reveal, Cornwall. Because, I hope, it includes Scilly. I've still got some doubts about it...... Norfolk must be right up there for a start. And last time I was at Grumbling Stumps I brought the matter up, to get some idea of what other people thought. It was all over the place, both literally and metaphorically. None of them tried googling them on their smartphones ... we're above that sort of thing. Though the King of Bryher probably would have. He talks to his. But another question came up .... a much trickier question I think. Which UK county has the smallest list ????? Ooo-er ! Cripes ! The obvious try is Rutland .... but I have my doubts ... yes, it's small, but it's over in the East, and it's got a great big lake..... You won't be surprised that Flintshire came into consideration .... but it was deeply inland counties that got the votes .... Derbyshire got a mention. Nottinghamshire .. the county of my carefree youthful years, all 11 of them. And I haven't looked that up either ... in fact both questions might not even be look-up-able anyway. But you might like to have a think about them both .... and tell me about it. [email protected] So ... the ball is in your court. I picked this song because of the video really .... it's sort of " anti-pop" .as is this ... it has a similar atmosphere ... I really feel that the "birding fraternity" should make some sort of contribution to the pressing need for carbon reduction to stop the planet reaching boiling point or something. I suppose we'd better include the "birding sorority" as well. Consider it included. Here's my contribution .... we shouldn't all be rushing around the UK in our cars ticking rarities..... trying to get to 300 .... but then that's not enough ...400 ... no, that's not good enough .... 500 ..... to infinity and beyond. So ... some climate philanthropist with bags of dosh needs to set up a huge " open zoo" sort of place which you can stroll around and "spot" loads of rarities in a single day. You could arrange it so that they get rarer and rarer as you make your way round the premises, thus adding to the interest/excitement/sheer futility of the whole shebang. The idea being, by then you've got your massive list, and for the rest of your life you can then be a "proper" birder who doesn't whizz round the entire UK polluting everything, wasting valuable petrol and running over foxes. And there is another way ..... you could have a points system. And the rarest birds get the least points. Robin counts for 80 points. Barn Owl ....... 50 points. Wilson's Petrel ..... 2 points. So, with that system, going on a 400 mile round trip to see a Bulwer's Petrel would only get you 1 measly point !! There ... that's the cheap way of doing it, no rich philanthropists needed. It just makes the whole thing into a hell of a mountain to climb ! Here's a fine Joanna Newsom song ..... '81 I found a little plot of land in the garden of Eden It was dirt, and dirt is all the same ..... This next snazzy drawing is a Lithuanian beetle drawn by me in your actual Lithuania ..... I've shrunk it a bit because my annotation says it is "life-sized" so I've tried to shrink it to "the right size" ... Here at last is the final part of my gripping account of my week in Lithuania ...... in case you haven't been paying attention, part 3 is on the far end of this cunning link ... Here we go then .... We did have one afternoon of semi-freedom when we were taken to a Folk Museum. Instead of dancing about and eating over-salted fish I wandered about spotting Hawfinches sitting in bushes in front gardens! On the minibus ride I saw more White Storks and two more Short-Toed Eagles. As the week went on I got more and more knackered, getting up at 5, tramping around until breakfast, working all day then "eating out" at night.My "diet" of nuts and raisins wasn't exactly power food either. Despite this, even on my last morning, I staggered out to the park for the last time.The Golden Orioles gave their best views, and one of several hoodwinks attracted my attention for some time. Ah yes, Hoodwinks. Throughout the week they appeared and tantalised, only to disappear. A classic was the several Wrynecks I didn't see. A Wryneck-type call would be heard, I would grow even more convinced as I searched for the blasted thing, and what did I see when I found it ? A Gt. Spot. For some reason, Gt. Spots in Lithuania give prolonged calls remarkably like Wrynecks. Other Hoodwinks were the three Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers I never got a good look at, and the various songs I couldn't for the life of me identify, and nor could I track down the blasted bird singing them. All too soon Mike and I were winging back to England despite me losing the airline tickets. The airline sandwiches we had ridiculed on the way out looked and tasted absolutely amazing. I got a fantastic view of the Spurn peninsula from the plane and we had an amazingly bumpy and precipitous descent into Manchester through huge towering cumulus clouds. Heyho ! I had been to another country and seen some birds. No more would I feel left out when proper birders boasted about their last trip to Texas. I had a Lithuanian list ! I had braved the mad-dog-infested forests of Kaunas ! From now on I could enthrall everyone in the tearoom and Grumbling Stumps with the portentious words ... " When I was in Lithuania....... " What music could possibly go with that ? What I could do with is a song called " Somewhere Else" ... and here it is ... What with yesterday's lovely weather, I sat outside in the garden around midday, making an attempt to "get" those 3 vital birds, Swift + Swallow + House Martin all together in my binocular field of view ..... if you don't know the importance of that, go back to post 466 ... here's the easy way to do it .... 466-how-do-we-know-when-spring-has-sprung.html Well ... there were plenty of House Martins .... and plenty of Swifts..... sometimes a mixed flock of 20+whizzing around the blue skies above my house. And I was thinking ... any time now, a Swallow is going to complete the trio ..... it might take a while, but I'm in the zone. But, dear reader, over that whole 40 minutes or so , not a single blasted Swallow turned up. So I didn't get " The Big Three" in my binoculars at the same time, so I didn't win the " Spring is Well & Truly Sprung" award . And the really sad thing is, it looks, even at this early stage, as if Swallows are going to be well down again this year, after the dinky numbers that eventually arrived last year. Bah ! We've had this song, about Swallows not returning, before ... and what a beautiful song it is too ..... " Cuando mueren las malditas golondrinas" .."when the blessed Swallows die" (although "malditas" has several possible interpretations)..... ( including "damned" ) ..... ..and here's the version you can sing-along with ..... a very sensual experience ... Cada día un poco más despacio
pero sin embargo siempre vuelvo a comenzar Después de cualquier frase bonita al oido como cualquier aspirante desconocido, me pongo a llorar.. Inesperada sensación la de estar sola con tanta gente alrededor Lo de antes, Lo de siempre, Lo de ahora todo junto me hace delirar A borrachera diaria se me olvida. ESTRIBILLO Cuando mueren las malditas golondrinas ya no vuelven nunca a la ciudad Los montones de momentos que pase contigo a solas ya no volverán. (x2) si no entiendes que en la vida necesitas también aprender a ganar Me dijo un caballero inglés perdido en Buenos Aires que ahora vive en Madrid Yo le dije al invierno que en otoño a algunas de ellas ya las vi pasar Desnuda por la calle en primavera ya no hay flores que plantar. ESTRIBILLO Cuando mueren las malditas golondrinas ya no vuelven nunca a la ciudad Los montones de momentos que pase contigo a solas ya no volverán. Como un potro desbocado e indigente que no ha estado y sin aire ya alargando hasta el máximo cada suspiro en las subidas de felicidad. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ On almost exactly the same day last year, I wrote this about Swallows, lack of ..... it is on the far end of this handy link .... 72-swal-lows-or-rather-lack-of.html |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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