Tag: owl

#365daysofbiking Thats one heck of a goose grumble going on

March 4th – You need to turn the sound up for this one.

I was returning from work early for me, before it was dark. Passing the new pond in Clayhanger, a couple of swans landed out of sight on the water, then took flight again. The geese, mallards and other waterfowl were clearly not happy about something.

There even seems to be what I think might be an owl shouting to them to keep the noise down!

I love the sounds of birds like this. The only loud birds we heard here as a kid were crows.

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April 16th – Running an errand to Chasetown, near St. Anne’s Church I spotted this fake owl, someone had mounted high in a roadside tree.

I have no idea, really I don’t: that took serious effort to get up there (and I’m still not sure how it was done) and from the bird poo splashed on it, it’s not really scaring birds.

An oddity, for sure…

March 16th – You ever have one of those days when nothing goes right? Yes, that. I set out to visit a pal and never found them, cycled down to Burntwood to buy something that wasn’t in stock, and then left my bike lock key on the doughnut counter in the supermarket (there’s a lesson in there, somewhere). It’s only Saturday evening, and already this feels like Lloyd Cole’s Lost Weekend. 

Crossing the bypass on my empty handed return from Burntwood, I stopped to look down the road towards the M6 Toll. I don’t know why, but I love this view. The distant, windy sweep of cars on the motorway; the endless points of sodium light; the red beacons of the Sutton Masts in the distance. The air was hard and clear, the clouds dramatic and threatening. Apart from the periodic moan of cars beneath my feed, I was alone.

Then I didn’t feel alone anymore. Something was with me. I turned around, and on the bollard at the end of the footway, perched an owl. We made eye contact, but as soon as I went for my camera, he was gone, into the darkening night.

 Somehow, it was soothing, reassuring and beautiful.

January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.

January 3rd – after a rough morning (the stomach still not giving me any respite, to be honest) I perked up in the afternoon and again braved the wind. Since my range and energy reserve were limited, I tacked round through Walsall Wood and let the wind blow me up through Holly Bank and Shire Ridge to Shire Oak Nature reserve. I hadn’t been here since spring, and the character had completely changed. Incredibly, the gorse was just passing through the far side of it’s second flowering, and the bogs and pools in the hollows of this former sand and gravel quarry had once again been enlivened by the rains. The thing that impressed me most, however, was the birdlife.

October 28th – Out early evening, a quick spin around the local area. I found myself at a darkened Chasewater, and taking a quick look round for a decent photo, could find nothing better than the Innovation Centre. No one was around at 6:30pm, just a few workmen in the dam compound and the sounds of activity from the brewery… I sat on a bench, listening to the geese chattering softly tin the dark. And then I heard an owl call.

This is Brownhills. I heard an owl hoot in the darkness. I still find that incredible – unthinkable when I was a kid.