Redbreast

After last weekend when the robin followed me everywhere, I thought it would be easy to photograph him today. But he was playing hard to get, though finally I managed a few shots of him perched on the wall in the drizzle.

I spent some time in the confines of the garden tidying (and still searching) while listening to the mass slaughter of pheasants going on a mile away in the woods above Arnside Tower. I've never come to terms with the idea of killing birds for sport, and I'm not too happy about the amount of lead that is cascading down onto the woodland floor. But there you go, it's not my land. I am only grateful for the National Trust and their ownership of Arnside Knott, a quiet haven. The buzzards were circling over the hill staying well clear of the disturbance on the other side of the valley. There was a lady with a collie heading in the opposite direction, he was spooked by the noise. Fortunately Gus is quite unmoved by shooting (and fireworks).

Speaking of which, I had been expecting the Arnside display tonight, I've never blipped fireworks. But as last year I had my days mixed up, and the display happened at 9.30 pm yesterday. Oh well, next year perhaps.

I was hoping for fireworks in the Wales Australia match this afternoon, and the start and first half were promising. But the pyrotechnics belonged to the Aussies as they snuffed out the men in red. Shame.

Perfect compensation for the disappointment of the result was Arnside Simon dropping in this afternoon for a cup of tea. It was the first time we have seen him for a couple of months, and he was looking well.