Barn Owl Chalet

You remember my telling you about the Barn Owl box the size of a Welsh chapel and with a Swiss-style overhanging roof? Well, here it is, in its new home in the fork of an ancient pear tree. If I were a Barn Owl, I would take my shoes and socks off and LEAP into it.

Bob Scott

Today I went to a memorial service at St Mary's Church, Buckden. I don't like funerals and I don't like memorial services, but this is not about me. This is about one of the giants of British ornithology, Bob Scott. One by one, we are losing our giants. I just hope the generations coming up can fill the shoes of the likes of Bob Scott. He was the best:- knowledgeable, energetic, charismatic, and he had the common touch, rare nowadays.
And you must forgive me if I have had a glass or two more than usual tonight:- I don't like losing old mates.

The garden in April

This spirea species is a wonderfully vigorous plant, so it's a pity that it flowers for such a short period. It was given to me years back by a green-fingered lady in the village, who told me not to prune it. "Just leave it alone", she said, reminiscent of a similar exhortation from my mother in a slightly different context.

Little Owl box

It seems that someone has at last cracked the mystery of how to make a simple but effective box for Little Owls. The picture shows a scaled down model that I just made (2/3 life size, with Kiki's mini-teddy to give an idea of scale). The fun bit was finding a way to cut the circular entrance hole. This involved the purchase of an attachment to my Bosch hammer drill from Mackays in Cambridge, a shop modelled on Aladdin's Cave.
My next project is to build a full scale box (about 30 cm each dimension) using offcuts of plywood retrieved from one of the farms we visited yesterday.
And here, for those who have never seen one, is a Little Owl. It was introduced into Britain from the Continent in the eighteenth century and is now well-established in all suitable habitats.

Charlotte

Goodness, where did the time go? Still no Wheatears, still no Ring Ousels, so bugger birds: I am going to tell you about Charlotte. Let me set the scene: old Central Heating Boiler finally giveth up the ghost, need for new CH Boiler emergeth. Man in posh suit arrives, assesses scene, sends estimate for new boiler, which I accept, given that I have no choice if I don't want to die of chilblains, or worse.
Technician arrives to install new boiler, turns out to be 20+ year old young woman called Charlotte. I make no comment, being not a reconstructed male, but at least a discreet one, and she gets down to the business. Next day, her two "helpers" arrive, a middle-aged guy called Chris, and an apprentice called Sam. And Charlotte is their boss. I LOVE IT!
Now, I have a new CH boiler system, everything is the dog's b..........s. And, as a bonus, Charllotte's partner, Martin, works for a farmer Ramsey way, so, thanks to Charlotte's intercession, today Peter and I went over there to put up a Barn Owl box, and to arrange to repair another to make it more effective.
I love Charlotte, not because she is a fine young woman, though that isn't a bad reason, but because she is a mensch. And we did something for Ramsey's Barn Owls into the bargain, thanks to her. I just hope young Martin realises what a wonderful partner he has.

They're on their way!

My colleague Paul saw three Yellow Wagtails on the fen yesterday, one of the summer visitors that we all love to see. This is the first record for 2009. Other species due to arrive soon include Wheatear, Ring Ousel and Turtle Dove, as well as all the warblers. Today, I trolled round half the fen and found nothing, well, I did at least see two pairs of Lapwing looking as if they were going to breed. But if I don't find, say, a Wheatear soon, I might take up another hobby altogether. Flower arranging maybe.

Captain Webb

In 1875, Captain Matthew Webb, a native of Dawley (the village in Shropshire next my own natal village, and about which I have already written) was the first man to swim the English Channel. My daughter's current gentleman admirer, Mark, is going to attempt to do the same in mid-July this year. I do not intend to ask him WHY he wants to do this. I hope, though, that if or when he gets to the other side, success will not go to his head, as it did to Captain Webb's. That poor old bugger just kept looking for new challenges and finally died in 1883 trying to swim through the whirlpools below Niagara Falls.