Wet, Crappy Flower

Not much to report today, I’m afraid: it was dim and rainy from morning till night, and I had lots of work to do, besides. The only bird I saw on my morning walk was a goose. On my afternoon walk, I was joined by a crow, which followed me from tree to tree. Eventually, I took shelter under one of said trees, and looked up at it. It looked back at me, and made little rattling noises in its throat. I tried to get a picture of it, but there were too many branches in the way.

I did spot something odd across the rooftops, this afternoon: a gull, apparently tired of guarding his nest, began squawking into the rain. Before long, a second gull turned up, and took over his post. The first gull took to the air, and circled the courtyard several times, before landing on my feeder. Gull number two kept vigil, till he returned. Is that sort of behaviour common among gulls, I wonder? I’ve also noticed several of them banding together to shriek at workmen on the roof, recently. I had no idea they co-operated in such sophisticated manners.

And here’s a picture of something from outside:

Eww.  Check out this gross, decrepit flower.  What a disgrace!

Eww. Check out this gross, decrepit flower. What a disgrace!

Not a bird, exactly….

This is not a bird, in the strictest sense of the word. It’s a kinnaree, which will appear in Ryan Durney’s upcoming “Birds of Lore” book. It’s related to birding only in that that I’ve been working on it when I’d ordinarily be out looking for birds, for the last little while.

This kinnaree has been spending too much time with the local crows:  it has begun to emulate the stampy bird dance they do, while waiting their turn at the feeder.

This kinnaree has been spending too much time with the local crows: it has begun to emulate the stampy bird dance they do, while waiting their turn at the feeder.

On another note, today’s apparently World Naked Gardening Day. How do you rate my odds of snagging some naughty snaps of Mr. Dolgonosov? (Not, of course, that I have a thing for horrid old men, or their horrid old flesh. I meant more, y’know, for blackmail purposes: “Chase that goose ONE MORE TIME, and I spread your Cryptkeeper arse all over Facebook!”)

Oh, dear. That was unpleasant.

Stay tuned for birds — actual birds!