Too cold

A wealden site, out of the biting NE wind, with mostly surfaced tracks, big trees, sandstone buildings and a deep lake. But that deep lake is dammed in a steep valley, shaded in the early morning from the low winter sun.

Back before Christmas, in the hard frosts of northern England, I had persuaded myself that my inadequate clothing was, however, fine for the Soft South-east. I was wrong.

The biggest lake is mostly frozen at its silted, reedy headwater where the ducks often hide, pushing them out onto its partially iced open part where they are either silhouetted against the brilliant light, obscured by a scumble of vapour rising as the heat reaches the surface or lost among the dazzle of their ripples.

You can hear the quack of Mallard, whistle of Gadwall and, er – what is it? of Coot but a move to a new angle is needed to get a better look and, with luck, some sort of count as they mill about.

There’s a fine, echoing chorus of Nuthatch, Song Thrush and drumming GS Woodpecker. There are some Greenfinches in the garden evergreens and Bullfinches are active too. From a hedge of laurels one is piping out its funny little nasal hardly-a-song but it stops as soon as I try to record it.

Treecreepers are oddly inconspicuous, in spite of the ideal habitat provided by the many crusty old oaks and Firecrests too are keeping a low profile. Two Ravens croak overhead, Jays squawk from under cover and every so often a noisy crowd of Jackdaws & Woodpigeons bursts up out of the treetops, making me wonder if they can see a Goshawk. They might, but I can’t.

As the rising sun lights up the treetops, where Stock Doves throb, and even provides patches of warmth here and there at ground level, where Wrens are whizzing about among the frosty brambles. I wonder if it might encourage some activity from the so, so fugitive LS Woodpeckers. Should I even write that in the plural? Every year I wonder whether the previous had been the last I would hear one.

The waterfowl quack back & forth; the groups coalesce then split, fly and rejoin, frustrating efforts to count them but it looks like 101 Mallards – I think my highest count from here – c25 Gadwall, a single Coot (there must be at least one more?), no Moorhens at all (what? are they in the reeds?) and, suddenly, a young male Wigeon! That’s an uncommon bird here – it’s not really a Wigeony sort of place, too enclosed.

Over the dam, the ice on the next lake is thick enough to support the more adventurous Canada Geese, though it creaks. Most of the 34 remain sensibly on the lawn, but without the Greylag I was sure I sure as I drove in. No sign of it now so maybe to be expunged from the list…

The top lake is unfrozen, murky brown, overhung with trees from which whose shadow swim out 3 pairs of decorative Mandarins.

In the Alder tops, Siskins are twittering and buzzing while dozens of Redwings forage in the Hollies and the first Buzzards begin to stir themselves.