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This year the Cuckoo was a late arrival in the valley. We can usually expect to hear their first call in late April, but not this year. Bill heard the first call yesterday morning (25th May) and I did not hear mine until 6.30 this morning (26th). The call was high and clear, sailing above the chorus of warblers and blackbirds that we are, thankfully, used to.

As the Cuckoo is such a wily and observant species, not given to wasting energy – or so I like to assume – then the species upon which is parasitises (the egg host) must be just into full egg laying. Perhaps the Sedge Warblers along the Bure. Certainly not the garden Dunnocks who seem to have been hard at work for a month or so already. We are unlikely to find out for certain. All we can say is the the Cuckoo is back from West Africa – Sumer is incumen in..

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We like to think that we make the most of our Kingfisher spotting opportunities. The technique is straightforward – attune yourselves to the high pitched call and grab the fleeting sighting when it presents itself. Usually only a glimpse as the bird whirs low over the water to a less visible perch always from the viewer.  This morning’s glimpse started in the same way – a glow of of a moving point in sunlit emerald as the Kingfisher fled upstream.

But then the same bird turned back towards us. This hardly ever happens. Perching on the Oxnead weir for a short while, he/she set offf on an aerial circuit around us as treetop height. Returning twice more before perching, again well within sight, on an overhanging branch. As we walked on the calls kept coming and the activity was constant. Spring had sprung in the Kingfisher’s world and we counted ourselves lucky to have chanced upon it.

E60F5D14-1BB2-4593-8F31-3520C22344BE The sight of Roe Deer has become increasingly common in Brampton in recent years (see link to other posts within the Village blog), but they always feel like an encounter with a wilder, slightly separate world. Usually, the sighting it at some distance and commonly it is for a fleeting moment before the deer melt into the safety of woodland. However, the other evening the encounter was closer. It was all the more surprising because, as we walked along with the Whippets, conversation was in full flow – not the whispers and hand signals that so often have to accompany a deer stalk. The wind was in our favour, blowing from the deer to us – otherwise they would have sensed us, a hundred yards further back. But on this occasion it was an eye to eye meeting, as can be appreciated by the resultant photos.

 

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