Birdgeeking 05: Lapwing

Photo source: Peter Moore’s Birding Blog

What am I looking for?

A seriously cool-looking customer, the Northern Lapwing is another bird with style prowess. Found wading and dabbling on wetlands or happily rooting around on farmland with his black crest pointing towards the sky like a punk’s mohican, this fella and his mates are a sight that is sadly declining in the more rural parts of the British countryside.

In the United Kingdom it is simply known as the Lapwing, minus the prefix.

Photo source: BirdWatch

Dress sense?

Like they’ve just stepped off a Roberto Cavalli runway, the Lapwing knows how to strut in style. Blessed with long and elegant wader legs clad in a stunning coral pink, they flash forest green plumage with hints of orange and purple, a tail dipped in black and an Elizabethan colour sitting atop a snowy white breast.

And to top it all off there’s that incredible black crest rising several centimetres from their neat little heads.

Photo source: Shropshire Community Wildlife Group

Musical taste?

The Lapwing also goes by the name of “Peewit”, which relates directly to the call the male makes during the breeding season. The bird is also responsible for a variety of squeaking and mewing calls that tend to be much more frequent during the spring and early summer.

Photo source: Nottingham Wildlife

Where do they come from?

Similar to the Eurasian Jay the Northern Lapwing occupies a great deal of Europe, although the ones we have here in Britain stay all year round. These birds tend to do a spot of “staycationing” however, and swap their summer wetland breeding grounds for lowland pastures and ploughed fields during the colder months.

Photo source: Swopticsphoto

What about dinner?

Lapwings love a good squishy earthworm or a crunchy beetle. They have mastered the art of tapping their pinky-red feet on the ground and encouraging these creepy-crawlies to head skywards to meet an untimely death. Caterpillars, small frogs and even spiders help to add further tasty ingredients in the diet of the Lapwing, plus slugs, flies and leatherjackets.

Photo source: Thames Valley Birds

Homely habits?

During the breeding season the male Lapwing likes to go to town to impress the ladies. In the bird world he is famous for his tumbling courtship display, where he flaps his wings to climb to a certain height and then allows them go limp, ensuring he drops dramatically out of the sky, tumbling down towards the ground like a whirling maple “helicopter” seed.

After he’s finished practising his best Red Arrows impression, the male Lapwing keeps his feet firmly on the ground and busies himself by building a beautiful nest for his future ladyfriend. He scrapes the ground as artfully as he can, often more than once to get it just perfect and then shows it off to lady Lapwings until one takes a fancy to it.

She lays three or four eggs, which take about 28 days to hatch. The chicks are walking within a day or so, and they follow their parents in the search for food soon after. Within 45 days the chicks can fly and are fully independent.

Photo source: Shropshire Community Wildlife Groups

Best place to spot?

Lapwings are becoming increasingly difficult to spot in the UK, due to the constantly changing face of British farming. Pastures and crop fields form the majority of their habitat, although fens and bogland are a popular choice too. Be prepared to get a bit muddy if you’re out looking for these fellas, but if you’re off the beaten track a bit and out in the real countryside you should be in luck.

Photo source: Mike Lane Wildlife Photography

I write the Birdgeeking series to encourage support for the RSPB, a charity established to protect both the native bird species of the United Kingdom and those further afield. Founded in 1889 to campaign against the Victorian fashion of bird plumes worn on women’s hats, the charity has since worked tirelessly to give nature a voice and educate people on the plight of some of our best-loved feathered friends.

Other than being a member I am in no way affiliated with the RSPB, but I use this weekly post to remind people to delight in how wonderful our birds are, and to consider desperately sad it would be if they were no longer around for us to look at and enjoy.

Fetch The Screwdriver!

It’s been a slightly disappointing week for my balcony garden as unfortunately (but typically) Britain is suffering from a real lack of any decent sunshine right now. This means every couple of days I’m still reaching for my winter jumpers to wear to work and my flowers are holding back somewhat.

They are in desperate need of some vitamin D, but despite it all they are still struggling on and I have to say I’m still quite proud of their persistent efforts to continue regardless.

Despite this lack of sun, my strawberry plant has managed to flower! Just the one, and it is very little, but it’s a start and I’m proud. You can see how cold and unhappy this plant is though, it’s keeping tightly wrapped up and warm by closing its petals.

I know how it feels. I’d much prefer to keep snug in my own petal bed, especially against the howling wind and rain we’ve had of late. What on earth has happened to the summer?

The plants in this pot were beginning to look quite droopy earlier in the week, almost as if they were going to kick the bucket altogether. I panicked a bit, thinking I hadn’t watered them enough, but when I checked the soil in the pot it was still moist from the previous watering.

Then I checked underneath the pot to see if it had ample drainage, as I remembered reading somewhere that plant roots can rot if they’re sat in old stagnant water.

Interestingly, most of my pots have big holes in the bottom but the two plastic ones didn’t.

I carefully tipped the pot on its side (carefully to try and avoid too much soil escaping onto the balcony) and took a screwdriver to the bottom of it. I stabbed three small holes in the plastic and immediately dirty water started leaking through, so I suspect that the cause of my droopy plants could well be the build-up of old water in the base of the pot.

Make sure you check your own pots for this. I wrongly assumed that all pots came with holes in the bottom but apparently not. It’s probably much easier to try the screwdriver method before planting!

How are you own gardening attempts faring against the miserable weather? I’m really hoping for some improvement in the next few weeks or I’m never going to see any colourful flowers on the balcony. Still, at least my pots are making up for it at the moment!

Spider!

I think you get to a certain point in your life when reminiscing about the “good old days” becomes one of life’s most enjoyable pastimes. When you’re a child or teenager, or even in your early twenties you’re still living those golden years of zero responsibility and ultimate freedom and you can’t quite appreciate what “grown-ups” are prattling on about when they start having a good reminisce.

In my family we call it the When We Club, because that’s how my grandad always starts his recollections of the past… “when we were in Africa/Bahrain/Australia…”

When my sister Livs came up to London to stay a few weeks ago we had a few of our own When We Club moments, and I was remembering our conversation this morning whilst getting ready for work. We had been discussing songs from kids’ TV shows.

Which TV programme intros and songs stick out for you when you think back to your childhood? Being a child of the late eighties and early nineties I grew up with some of the classics: Fireman Sam, Rosie and Jim, Postman Pat, Rupert the Bear and My Little Pony, to name but a few.

However, there’s always one that sticks in my brain, and apparently Livs’ too, though it’s a lesser-known animated show that didn’t get that much airtime over here in the UK.

It was simply called Spider! and the series was ten episodes long, about five minutes a go, each containing a little song matched with an animated video. The overall story told of a boy that was scared of a spider, but in the end they become good friends. Simple, cute, and now that I’ve re-watched a few of the episodes, actually quite timeless.

“The Spider’s Song” is my favourite of the stack, simply because the message it gives is so wonderful and inspiring, even when you’re watching as an adult! Sure, the words are simple and so is the tune, but combined with the little story told through the video it gets me every time. I always end up with a tear in my eye.

It isn’t often that the art of plodding, which I am particularly good at, gets recognised. Sometimes it isn’t about having the most expensive tools or the fanciest ideas. Sometimes it’s just about taking the time to do a job to the best of your ability, regardless of the obstacles you will undoubtedly have to overcome along the way.

If you fancy more of the same, the classic tune that is most frequently attributed to the show Spider! is “Spider in the Bath“, though “In My Tent” is another great one and “Hedgehog Hunt” will get inextricably stuck in your head for days if you’re not careful.

When are we going to bring back kids’ shows like this one?!

Cumbrian Heavy Horse Adventures

On the first weekend of June my sister and I drove over 700 miles across Britain to spend two nights in Cumbria, one of the UK’s most northerly counties.

We recharged our batteries amidst the beautiful scenery and rode heavy horses on the beach. It was the perfect opportunity for some quality sister time, I don’t get to see Livs that much these days as we’re always both so busy!

We stayed at a campsite nestled just above Lake Ullswater in the Northern Lake District a few miles out of Penrith. The Quiet Site surprised me with its size – I had been expecting a tiny little site with a handful of pitches but there was a huge array of motorhomes, tents and camper vans all snuggled in together.

Ours was the best accommodation going though, a very cute yet still amply spacious camping pod equipped with a plug socket, tiny radiator end even a reading lamp! We supplied all our own camping gear, as you would with a tent but the bonus was no need to fight with guide ropes, hammering pegs or having to take it down at the end of the holiday. Ingenious.

On Saturday afternoon we explored the Cumbrian countryside surrounding the campsite. I fell in love with the majestic local curly-horned sheep.

We woke early on the Sunday morning and bundled back into our faithful blue car, Aspen. Being almost the only vehicle on the roads made us feel like we could soak up all the natural beauty of the rugged landscape without distraction.

Part two of our adventure started at the Cumbrian Heavy Horses stables just outside Millom. Shires, Clydesdales and even a rogue Suffolk Punch all find homes on the yard, and what incredible animals they are too: big, kind faces and rockstar manes, hooves like dinner plates and “flared” feathers around their feet.

It would be easy to feel intimidated by their enormous size but you’d be foolish to feel that way. These horses truly are gentle giants.

My faithful steed, Charles (Charlie) the girl was the smallest of the bunch of seven heading out on our beach ride, though to me she still looked enormous! I was feeling pretty nervous about riding her, but the stables staff were at pains to tell me how well she’d look after me, and that did make me feel a bit better.

In contrast, Livs was every bit the seasoned horsewoman! She and Miracle the bay Shire were a perfect team. I have to say though, once I was up on Charlie’s back and putting my trust in her to safely pick her way down the stony bank onto Silecroft Beach, I felt a lot happier.

Livs, and I posed for our holiday photos and even let Charlie and Miracle stretch their legs with a bouncy canter down the beach. I just about clung on, but going that fast was incredible! Pretty much everything else that had been rattling around in my head fell straight out and it was just Charlie and I, munching up the sandy miles and splashing seawater and spray everywhere.

By lunchtime both riders and horses were ready to take the weight off and enjoy a sandwich or a mouthful of grass. The horses had big buckets of water too, and I shared a cheeky apple with a dozing Charlie, who seemed quite appreciative of this gesture. We even had a hug and I thanked her for carrying my much-needed lunch in her saddlebags.

By the time we arrived back at the stables again, five hours after originally saddling up I was aching like crazy and sunburnt beyond belief, but feeling pretty marvellous. I said goodbye to Charlie and she went out into the field to rest with her friends. Livs and I returned for another night’s stay in the pod.

I think sometimes it’s important to get away not just from the hustle and bustle but also the quiet and predictable parts of your everyday life.

The idea of riding Charlie felt so out of my comfort zone at the beginning of the day, and even though I was frightened I knew I needed to push through that and have a go. And perhaps I wasn’t the most natural rider of the bunch, I’m still proud of what Charlie and I managed to achieve, together.