This blog is about my birding exploits, which mainly take place in the Weymouth/Portland area, in Dorset. Will also include stuff from elsewhere, plus some other critters too. Hope you enjoy. All photographs are © Brett Spencer, unless indicated otherwise. The above image is of a Siberian Rubythroat, taken in Holland in 2016.

Monday, 8 October 2012

Purple Patch Continues

Yesterday morning, I decided to bird The Fleet in the Moonfleet/Herbury area. The best I could manage was 2 Redstarts amongst good numbers of Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps. Lots of lingering House Martins, but alas no Red-rumped Swallows. Whilst overhead Siskins and small numbers of Redpolls provided the only interested.




I then went home for some dinner and on checking the news, found out that the Purple Heron was still at Radipole. With it being quiet everywhere else, I thought I'd give it a go. After all, I did try and find me own goodie. Watching from the concrete bridge, it wasn't long before it appeared flying over, though unfortunately, it caught me off guard as it came from behind me and then dropped down into the reeds. Anyway, I got some crap record shots of it. A gorgeous bird, that was easily aged as juvenile. Despite me waiting several hours, it never got up again whilst I was there, so my hopes of better photos were dashed.

Now, I'm going to have a rant. So, if easily offended, look away now.

So, picture the scene. I'm at Moonfleet, it's a lovely morning, with nobody about and I've walked through an open gate, it's always open, into a field. This field, which was now stubble, is surrounded by a grass border big enough to get a Range Rover on it. Now, to me, it looks like a bridleway and I have seen people walking on it before, oh yeah, even dog walkers. 

So, I'm walking on this grass, causing no damage to anything and not upsetting anyone. I'm just quietly going about my birding, when up ahead of me, a woman, or should I say BITCH, on a horse is approaching me. On reaching me she said, "You do know you're not on a public footpath, this field is private." I politely say, "Ok, cheers." In hindsight, I wished I'd questioned her on where it said that I couldn't be where I was and that if she didn't want people walking in this area, then shut the flipping gate. She could have said something like, "Good morning, looking for anything in particular, lovely morning isn't it." 

I was at Littlesea one day, walking down towards the Bridging Camp from Bridge Farm. Just past the farm, I stopped to look from a gate and was stood on rough ground about two foot from the path. I wasn't in the field, yet the owner of the horse paddocks there comes up to me and says, whilst pointing at the path, " the footpath is there."  I went "eh?" looking in disbelief. He obviously repeated his words and I carried on my way. What the hell though. I was doing no harm at all. 

I'm sorry, but I'm getting a bit fed up of the possessive pompous horse brigade who seem to be taking over everywhere. I thought we were in a recession for goodness sake. Where are all these wealthy idiots who like horses coming from anyway. I think these rich pompous conservative voting twits should be culled and there bodies stuck on spikes where everyone can see them. The smell of their rotting flesh would remind the people that this is a free country and not just for the elite. Although, there wouldn't be an elite class, as I would have killed them all. Ok, it would discourage an elite class.

Bring on the revolution and civil war.

And, relax, and breathe.

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