April 24th – First of the year for me, spotted on the riverbank in north Leicester, these goslings were very cute. Not at all nervous of me, mum and dad were quite content to let me get close. They clearly weren’t very old and had cute in shedloads.
The photos didn’t work out too well, but I think you get the idea!
Now there’s a sign of spring!
March 27th – This seems unusual to me – well developed Canada goose goslings near Heathtown. Bear in month this is in March. Looking at them they must be a couple of months old. Has anyone seen this before?
Maybe it’s a sign of a mild winter…
August 21st – For some reason, of late the Canada geese really have taken a shine to the marina in Silver Street, Brownhills.
Time was not so long ago you’d hardly ever see a goose on the cut, but this summer, they love it here – honking, preening and generally making a mess.
I’m fond of these large, truculent, much misunderstood birds – did you know there are twelve separate types of Canada Goose? – bu by heck, they make a mess.
It’ll be interesting to see if this is a passing attraction, or a longer habitation.
March 20th – I cycled home in persistent rain, but with the wind behind me. As is usual in these conditions, I slid onto the canal towpath as soon as I could to avoid the madness of the traffic. Passing near Clayhanger Bridge, I was assailed by a pair of regular bandits.
This pair of Canada Geese – apparently inseparable – have been hanging around for about three weeks now. As time passes (and presumably, the chap’s fancy turns in springtime) the male is getting more and more bombastic. He jumps up off the water when he spots me, up onto the towpath, all open bill and hissing. I’ve started giving him titbits to placate him. He now expects the ‘toll’ before he lets me pass.
I am, effectively, being mugged by a goose. Has life really come to this?
June 24th – Technically, although summer has only just started, it feels midway right now. The late spring flowers and blossom have receded, and the chicks have hatched. Now it’s the time of the water lilies on the canal, the hardier summer blooms, the goslings and young visibly growing up. This brood of eight Canada geese chicks have survived remarkably well agains predators – including the local foxes – and are beginning to develop adult plumage. They’re still button-cute, though, and mother and father still stand eagle eyed in defence of their family.
May 26th – Caldmore Village Festival, then back to Walsall and on to the canal. Up through Darlaston, down to Toll End, then along the Tame Valley Canal to Rushall Junction, then back home via Aldridge. A lovely run. The birdlife was great. Plenty of cygnets, goslings and herons. Common Terns are stalking the water everywhere, but too fast for this slow photographer to catch. The canal was gorgeous. A fine day.
May 17th – Spring wends onward, despite somewhat indifferent weather. A late afternoon spin rewarded me with beautiful dead nettles and forget-me-nots. As a kid I can remember plucking the white blooms from the dead nettles and sucking the sweet, tasty nectar from the base of the blossom.
These days, I’d be careful to choose nettles from above dog leg height.
Meerash Hill at Hammerwich is a carpet of familiar, fluorescent yellow, and Mrs. Swan sits patiently with no little dignity on the nest at the Watermead in Brownhills, whilst just up the canal bank, Mr. Goose stood guard with paternal pride as his brood explored.
I love this time of year.
May 11th – As I returned, I passed a particularly intemperate Canada goose on the towpath, standing sentry on one leg. He hissed and honkey at me grumpily, and I couldn’t see why. Just as I was about to squeeze respectfully past, I followed his gaze. There, upon the opposite bank was his mate, and their brood of 3 (or possibly 4) goslings. She looked like she was still sitting. Those guys had cute in shedloads, and are the first goslings I’ve seen this season. Marvellous.
March 23rd – I went back to Chasewater to investigate the overflow situation, and because my conscience was burning me badly. I needed to feed those poor swans. The snow still fell, and the wind was evil. This was the worst snowfall I’d seen since the early 1980s, yet I was surprised at the diversity of the a avian population I encountered. Crows, waterfowl, gulls. Pied wagtails hunted what I presume were barely visible bugs over the overflow spillway. They mingled with a small, brown sparrow-like bird I didn’t recognise. Consulting with birders online later, these cute little brown jobs with comical flight and similar feeding behaviour to the wagtails turned out to be meadow pipits, probably brought down by the snow during migration. I was fascinated by the way they clung to the spillway walls.
I needn’t have fretted about the swans, as their mum was there. The Swan Lady and her husband are legendary at Chasewater, and they feed and tend the swans, taking note of absentees and arrivals. The incongruous and greedy flock gathered round their guardians with eager and expectant joy, and much honking. Bless.
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