Inchrested

Another supermarket delivery fail had me back in Stratford this morning, where despite the sunshine there were no Migrant Hawkers out because it was only 10°C. This is far closer to the seasonal average for mid-October, but still a bit of a shock after the early 20s in which we basked at the beginning of the week, and the plunging temperature might well herald the end of the dragon season. Common Darters can still fly at 10°, but I haven't seen any of those in Stratford for a couple of weeks now.

Scuttling into town in pursuit of my missing groceries and a hot coffee, I stopped opposite the Bancroft Gardens to check the river for tufties, and realised that there were now four patrolling the north bank and checking out the other waterfowl. All were adult males moulting back out of eclipse, and there was no sign of yesterday's first winter female. In fact for quite a while I thought that both yesterday's birds had left overnight and been replaced by four newcomers, but eventually I recognised the male I posted yesterday by some odd markings on his bill - so it looks as though he chose to stay with the three new arrivals, while she moved on alone. If so this was intrepid of her - there's good reason behind the saying "safety in numbers" - but I've noticed over the years that female Tufted Ducks often seem more restless than the males.

Often, newly arrived winter ducks will stick in a tight group in the centre of the river, looking nervous, but all four of the current crew are pretty bold, and I even saw them getting involved in some of the feeding mêlées close to the bank, as people threw food from the wharf. Tufted Ducks, like Goosanders, are wild birds with no dependence on humans: they're diving rather than dabbling ducks, and eat a "meat and two veg" diet of molluscs, aquatic insects, and weed. But in the past couple of years I've noticed that some will take waterfowl pellets as well, and today's quartet rushed forward every time someone threw grain onto the surface of the river. This individual was especially (and unusually) interested in the local human traffic - here he was close to the wharf, watching intently as a father and daughter produced a bag of food and the little girl began throwing it rather randomly around her. I have several more normal side-on images of him, but R has chosen this one for its mild comedy value.

Back at home I made a huge pot of ragu Bolognese and froze it in batches, then did battle with my increasingly recalcitrant Mac, until exhaustion set in and I had to leave it to the sulk it's been throwing for the past several days. In better news, R's framed drawing in the Broadway Festival Art Competition Exhibition has sold, and will soon be going off to live its best life on the wall of its new owner. He's pretty pleased with himself, and I'm delighted for him. From now on I may have to refer to him as The Artist.