Travelling Minstrels
14th April 2016
14th April
Travelling Minstrels
The days have suddenly become bright, warm, with the sharp line of the mountains standing out, clean and stern against the background of cloudless skies. This is a wonderfully sublime period as the Spring weather, along with bright blue skies and double figure temperatures has changed the mood of the landscape and attracted a new company of avian actors and musicians to the drama.
In the last week Grey Wagtails and Dippers have been prolific and seen around the fast flowing streams and rivers that wind through the mountains. Like a jet fighter, a Dipper steers along the twists and turns of the River Esk, whilst remaining no more than a few centimeters above the water surface. Then, once arriving at a rock that sits proud in the middle of the swift flowing river, he proudly and defiantly cocks and bobs his head, delivering his solo in the form of punctuated of tweets and trills.
The following day is greeted by more cloudless skies and more layers of song are added to the surrounding soundscape. The players are gathering.
This time, as I pass through the wooded valley of Duddon, following the Beck, that weaves through steep crags peppered by birch and sessile oak, my journey has a musical accompaniment. This comes in the form of descending scales sang by Willow Warblers.
It's like I have gate crashed a troupe of opera singers going through their warm up exercises. I enjoy the singing and take even more joy from actually being able to see these little, olive coloured birds. It is often very difficult to catch these soloists, as they fade back into the curtain-cover of natures theatre - (as the season progresses and there are more leaves on the trees, they become hidden amongst the foliage).
Finally another day, but this time a day that opens with a little more 'seasonal' wind. I therefore head to the westerly hills above the Duddon Valley as it offers some protection from the NE wind.
It is whilst climbing up past the remote Seathwaite Tarn, a mirror of water, held in a narrow valley, bound by crags and rocky buttresses, I was accompanied by the white daubed Wheatears. These new arrivals have already claimed their territory and are keen to escort me 'off their land' leading me for one rock to another, until I pass over their border.
In all cases they are ensuring they distract me in such a way as to lead me away from their nest.
After reaching the Tarn I headed over to the overlooked Bronze Age stone ring that sits just above the water. Views from here look towards Harter Fell, with it's pyramid shaped slopes being reflected in the tarn. Whilst, further north, the view is pulled towards the high, wild valley of Upper Eskadale and the mountainous land of the Scafell. A Tolkienesque like landscape, as the distant crags and buttresses still hold snow.
Even though this valley is remote and relatively untouched, I was in no mood to have my day regimented by following well worn, busy paths, so just headed straight up the mountain, via a boulder strewn ghyll and past small rocky outcrops. Soon, after a lot of hard work, I could see the summit ridge ahead. It was at this time, skirting past a fractured crag, that I came across my first Ring Ouzel of the year.
I occasionally see them up here, on the Duddon side of the Coniston Fells. They are often seen flying from the steep ledges of Dow Crag, or along the face of the disused quarries around Caw and White Pike. Their little white collars adding contrast to the dark grey crags they inhabit.
Early Spring provided a few wonderful days in the hills, full of music and drama. The newly arrived visitors are most welcome, just like the weather they have brought with them. However, whilst writing , things soon changed, as the temperatures have plunged and the mountain tops are once again covered in snow.
Winter has returned, silencing the song of Spring. Hopefully this is only a temporary hiatus before there is a crashing crescendo of Swallows, Cuckoo, Warblers, Finches and others join the assembled company of players.
Travelling Minstrels
The days have suddenly become bright, warm, with the sharp line of the mountains standing out, clean and stern against the background of cloudless skies. This is a wonderfully sublime period as the Spring weather, along with bright blue skies and double figure temperatures has changed the mood of the landscape and attracted a new company of avian actors and musicians to the drama.
In the last week Grey Wagtails and Dippers have been prolific and seen around the fast flowing streams and rivers that wind through the mountains. Like a jet fighter, a Dipper steers along the twists and turns of the River Esk, whilst remaining no more than a few centimeters above the water surface. Then, once arriving at a rock that sits proud in the middle of the swift flowing river, he proudly and defiantly cocks and bobs his head, delivering his solo in the form of punctuated of tweets and trills.
The following day is greeted by more cloudless skies and more layers of song are added to the surrounding soundscape. The players are gathering.
This time, as I pass through the wooded valley of Duddon, following the Beck, that weaves through steep crags peppered by birch and sessile oak, my journey has a musical accompaniment. This comes in the form of descending scales sang by Willow Warblers.
It's like I have gate crashed a troupe of opera singers going through their warm up exercises. I enjoy the singing and take even more joy from actually being able to see these little, olive coloured birds. It is often very difficult to catch these soloists, as they fade back into the curtain-cover of natures theatre - (as the season progresses and there are more leaves on the trees, they become hidden amongst the foliage).
Finally another day, but this time a day that opens with a little more 'seasonal' wind. I therefore head to the westerly hills above the Duddon Valley as it offers some protection from the NE wind.
It is whilst climbing up past the remote Seathwaite Tarn, a mirror of water, held in a narrow valley, bound by crags and rocky buttresses, I was accompanied by the white daubed Wheatears. These new arrivals have already claimed their territory and are keen to escort me 'off their land' leading me for one rock to another, until I pass over their border.
In all cases they are ensuring they distract me in such a way as to lead me away from their nest.
After reaching the Tarn I headed over to the overlooked Bronze Age stone ring that sits just above the water. Views from here look towards Harter Fell, with it's pyramid shaped slopes being reflected in the tarn. Whilst, further north, the view is pulled towards the high, wild valley of Upper Eskadale and the mountainous land of the Scafell. A Tolkienesque like landscape, as the distant crags and buttresses still hold snow.
Even though this valley is remote and relatively untouched, I was in no mood to have my day regimented by following well worn, busy paths, so just headed straight up the mountain, via a boulder strewn ghyll and past small rocky outcrops. Soon, after a lot of hard work, I could see the summit ridge ahead. It was at this time, skirting past a fractured crag, that I came across my first Ring Ouzel of the year.
I occasionally see them up here, on the Duddon side of the Coniston Fells. They are often seen flying from the steep ledges of Dow Crag, or along the face of the disused quarries around Caw and White Pike. Their little white collars adding contrast to the dark grey crags they inhabit.
Early Spring provided a few wonderful days in the hills, full of music and drama. The newly arrived visitors are most welcome, just like the weather they have brought with them. However, whilst writing , things soon changed, as the temperatures have plunged and the mountain tops are once again covered in snow.
Winter has returned, silencing the song of Spring. Hopefully this is only a temporary hiatus before there is a crashing crescendo of Swallows, Cuckoo, Warblers, Finches and others join the assembled company of players.