I went and had a look at the Olive Backed Pipit that was at Spurn last week. After a half hour wait, Messrs' (alas) Smith and Jones had a walk over to see where it was hiding. They called us over as it was on view from where they were. Good views, with sun to our backs, it was a nice bird. Better than "nice". Nice is just a shite description really but I'm not going to use adjectives like "lovely" or "beautiful" as they're far too crawly bumlick. Tell it like it is, put facist bully-boy!
Darling Facist bully boy,
Give me some money. You bastard.
May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman,
If that doesn't work, I don't know what will.
I got sidetracked. I then did some hardcore birding dawn til dusk stomping, KICKING nettles, THRASHING dykes, WALKING through fields, and PISSING on bushes. Well, I did canal hedge and churchyard for an hour. But it was an enjoyable hour, with a Firecrest c/o Mr Whitehead in canal hedge with a couple of Chiffs and 3 Goldcrests, then 3 Chiffs together in Churchyard with a Brambling. These meagre totals are nothing compared to the last couple of days, but on that particular day, it was enjoyable. Simple as that. We get spoilt at Spurn when conditions are right but on a day of westerlies and sun like this, just finding these small smatterings is what it's all about.
I was talking with Mr Roadhouse at churchyard as I was about to leave when the radio crackled into life:
"We've caught the fucking Pipit you set of bastards".
Honestly that's what they said. Sort of.
So we all went down to the Obs and waited, and whilst I waited I had a quick look on the estuary off the Warren. A "nice" male Ring Ouzel alighted from the saltmarsh and flew past us (I was talking to an old dear who was complaining that her husband had had the OBP right in a full frame shot when everyone rushed it to net the poor bastard thus losing the photo opportunity). In the hand views later, after Mr Collins had offered those at the back (me) a better opportunity to view, and I was off on my way home. Glory.
I've name-dropped a lot haven't I? Wait until I tell you about the time I saw GEOFF fucking DRUETT at Notlob Abbey. Beat that.
I'll tell you all about the weekend next time.
Oh I bet you can't wait!
I cannot think of a caption.
Just think that an Olive-Backed Pipit doesn't even know that it is called an Olive-Backed Pipit or has the latin name Anthus hodgsoni. Just like a chicken doesn't know that it's flesh is white(ish) when cooked and delicious. I find it....
..............sort of interesting. I'm pissed up.