Out & About …

… on the North York Moors, or wherever I happen to be.

Tag: fauna

  • The Little Egret of Great Ayton

    The Little Egret of Great Ayton

    This morning, I set out with some faint notion of a nature photograph for today’s post. Nothing specific, but as fate would have it, on crossing the bridge over to Waterfall Park, I spotted Great Ayton’s resident Little Egret. Yes, “resident,” as though this bird has become some fixture of local society. There it stood—in…

  • Geese over the Moor, Jets in the Sky: My Morning Routine Disturbed

    Geese over the Moor, Jets in the Sky: My Morning Routine Disturbed

    Wednesday mornings have become a predictable affair—each week beginning with a stroll across Battersby Moor. This morning, however, my private reverie were rudely interrupted by the coarse honking of a skein of geese, or what I dare venture to call greylags, flapping about in that charmingly organised way they have, perhaps several hundred strong, hurtling…

  • A Chance Encounter with the Great Crested Newt

    A Chance Encounter with the Great Crested Newt

    Shakespeare’s witches in Macbeth famously required “Eye of newt, and toe of frog” for their cauldron. Debate lingers over whether this references the amphibian’s body part or a herbalist’s term for mustard seeds. In our garden pond, we have plenty of common newts, but today at the National Trust’s Bridestones property, I encountered my first…

  • A Little Bit of Bread and no Cheese

    A Little Bit of Bread and no Cheese

    The song of the yellowhammer resonates with a quaint charm, often likened to ‘a little bit of bread and no cheese,’ a delightful call immortalised by Enid Blyton in her tales and verses. Males serenade the countryside with their melodies during spring and summer, adorning our open spaces. Resembling a canary in appearance, the males…

  • The Silent Standoff — An Unexpected Thrill of a Roe Deer Encounter

    The Silent Standoff — An Unexpected Thrill of a Roe Deer Encounter

    I lack the patience for birding or hiding for hours in wait of a fleeting glimpse of wildlife. However, stumbling upon the sight of a bird or creature feels like a rare privilege. Such was the case this morning when I spotted a yearling roe buck. Or rather, he spotted me. We engaged in a…

  • Cuckoos on the Move as Cyclists Battle Up Saltburn Bank

    Cuckoos on the Move as Cyclists Battle Up Saltburn Bank

    In the women’s race of the Cleveland Classic, competitors ascend the formidable Saltburn Bank at the first of the event’s four laps. Cycling here, my ears were tuned keenly for that distinctive call of the first cuckoo of the year. Today marks Cuckoo Day, also known as St. Tiburtius’ Day, traditionally the day when the…

  • No wheeple from this whaup

    No wheeple from this whaup

    No plaintive cry echoed through the air. It was the silhouette that gave it away: that lengthy and slender bill that bent downward. I casually approached at an oblique angle, yearning for a better shot. Amidst the heather, its speckled brown feathers made spotting it quite a challenge. Alas, my audacious closeness prompted it to…

  • Roseberry Topped Reflection

    Roseberry Topped Reflection

    I recently read an article about the ecology of puddles, revealing their significance as habitats for certain invertebrate species. These small, transient pools offer a refuge from larger predators and competitors due to their isolated and short-lived nature. Many of these puddles hold high conservation value, housing rare specialist creatures. Noteworthy examples include the fairy shrimps…

  • Reeves’s pheasant

    Reeves’s pheasant

    After a disruptive morning, which is best left without further elaboration, my daily exercise took place in the dwindling daylight. So here is a photo of an unusual pheasant we came across earlier in the week. According to Google, it is a Reeves’s pheasant (Syrmaticus reevesii). The bird was introduced on these shores in the…

  • Gazing down on Fingal’s Pinnacles

    Gazing down on Fingal’s Pinnacles

    Amidst Nature’s tranquil canvas, the distinctive call of the cuckoo shattered the silence once more. From the treeless shores to the lofty mountains, that feathered harbinger has seemed to tail us relentlessly, from the westernmost reaches of Skye to the farthest point north. In June, so the old rhyme says, he changes his tune. Yet,…