Month: September 2015

Butterlight White

We’re walking up from Babbacombe Down towards Shag Cliff.

Hips are hurting. The Pumper Bird is shyly aflutter.

There’s that bench where the last drop of tea can be drunk.

And now here flitters across a white butterfly – looking for (potential mate) over there. I’ve skipped over with camera to catch him fluttering her wings.

Video: Ian Nisbet

Birthday Beautiful up on Shag Cliff

The Picnic edit

Picture: Hazel Brown

Walking up to here, our favourite spot, this sunny September Saturday afternoon. For Birthday treats!

We’ve got Birthday Boats, and Birthday Birds (those 2 hovering Kestrels) And now we’re going to have some Birthday Bunting!

And then let’s get the little camping stove out for some Birthday Bacon! Fried up with mushrooms and little cherry tomatoes. And drink Thermos tea with some Reuben cake.

It’s all being very Sunny-Delight. As warm, if not warmer, than any day we’d had back in wet August. This is a bit of Summer bouncing back to gift Haze some Birthday Blessing!

Walking back down the path we collect Birthday Blackberries for crumble. Yum!

Haze will look back on this afternoon in years to come and go ‘Mmmm’ I know where, what, and who I was doing my Birthday with in 2015. Bootiful it was!’

Words: Ian Nisbet

Faerie Whites

More late night filming of the street lamp outside my living room window; but are they moths scootling about or are they something else?

What are these strange ethereal nightlight beings?

The sensible way to explain them is to consider them to be hawkmoths.

But they appear amorphous. And they seem ambiguous. And they feel, well, they feel kind of fantastical.

They’ve certainly captured my imagination (and Hazel’s) these last 4 or 5 weeks.

They’ve made me wonder, and feel intrigued. And even be a little bit betwitched.

Dusky Rooks Roosting

In they fly, in dibs and drabs, in twos and threes, from fields afar.

Not to some ancient rookery – but to here, this back-end car park in the centre of town.

On warm dusky nights there can be up to 200, or more, of them wheeling and whiffling their way around in raucous rook ribaldry.

They seem to know when night has finally fallen; for there’s a sudden mad calamity to claim the best beds in the branches of the tallest beeches (well, in any tall tree that keeps them the highest above really)

I lay down each night with 200 sleeping rooks around my bed. Cosy!

Video and Words: Ian Nisbet