Previous Editions
July 2010
30(10) Makes His First Flight- Our regular contributor Lynda was in Waderscrape Hide when the first of the Manton Bay chicks took to the air
July 2010
Guided Walks and Water Rails - Trainee warden Michelle Househam spends a week with the Osprey Project
July 2010
A Boat, Rutland Water, a Warm Summer Evening and Two Fishing Ospreys- Lynda Berry on a spectacular first Osprey Cruise of the year
May 2010
Mr Nosey Drops In- An Afternoon In Waderscrape- Val & Alan Brown write about an enthralling afternoon in Manton Bay
May 2010
05(08) Returns Home- The earlist ever return for a Rutland two year old, photographed by Brian and Liz Nicholls
April 2010
First Shift Of The Year- Ken Davies sees the return of the 5R show in Manton Bay
February 2010
A Mid-Winter Gathering- Walks, works and welsh ospreys at the Osprey Mid-Winter gathering
October 2009
Time To Say Goodbye - Lynda's Summer Diary- Goodbye to Site N, and to another Osprey season
VOLUNTEER DIARIES- KEN'S SUMMER DIARY - 26th June 2009
Volunteer Ken Davies continues his regular diary about life as an Osprey volunteer.
It promises to be a warm and sunny morning, so I make a bold move and for the first time this season dispense with the over-trousers which have saved me from a soaking on more than one occasion. I hope I don't regret it.
From a distance I can see that both adult ospreys are at the nest and feeding of the chicks is in progress. Feeding continues as I open up the shed and set up the telescopes. After a few minutes the three chicks turn away and 03 gulps down the last of the fish himself while still standing on the nest edge. I see the tail of the fish disappear and reckon it was a trout. Already, at
8.15, it is warm, and the chicks stand panting in the sun after their fishy breakfast, their bills open. 03 returns to his perch and surveys the scene contentedly. Paul calls on the radio at about 9.00. He has a graduate student from Cambridge visiting today, and might bring him/her to see Site B later ~ suitably blindfolded and disorientated of course! I tell Paul we are almost out of monitoring forms, and (more importantly by far), the biscuit tin is almost empty. He says he will bring supplies when he visits. I settle down outside in the sun, with one telescope, the clip-boards, and the radio nearby. While I am actually writing, a small tortoiseshell butterfly alights on the notes and dips her proboscis into the ink at the end of my pen. I note that 03 has now moved to the small oak (9.30). The female stands guard on the edge of the nest as the chicks stumble and totter around on wobbly legs and unsteady wings.
At 10.05 I hear a faint noise and turn my head to see a small fox-cub at the shed door. He hesitates and then trots round the front. I freeze. He disappears into the nettles, but a few moments later he’s back at the shed door. My sandwiches and coffee are in there! Blackbirds and a blue tit are scolding him. Suddenly he seems to detect my scent and disappears quickly down the steps at the back of the shed, with an irate blackbird virtually on his back! Magical ~ this becomes more like ‘Springwatch’ every day. ‘Now back to you, Kate.’ 03 is still on the small oak, the female on the nest watching over the increasingly adventurous chicks. One still seems smaller than the other two, but he’s perfectly well and healthy. Their orange eyes are staring in all directions as they take everything in.
At 11.15 I again feel I am being watched, and look up to find six very fine horses eyeing me warily from further up the gallops. A dozen ears are pricked forward as they try and catch a sound from me. They are tense at first, but soon relax and come and say hello. All is well until one starts nibbling the back of the green folding chair, and two others begin shaking their heads so vigorously that I fear for the safety of the telescope should one of them inadvertently catch it. I retreat behind the gate with all the equipment, but no sooner have I moved everything than they gallop off and are out of sight in seconds. With calm restored, I check on 03 again. Three hours almost since the last feeding session ~ he should be going off again soon. He is still on the oak, but much more alert now and flicking his wings. This can only means one thing, and sure enough when I go out I spot an intruding osprey coming in from the south-east at quite a height. The newcomer descends over the wood, circles for a while, then goes high again and drifts south-west. I take out my crib-cards (taken from John Wright’s recent photos) which show all the likely intruders in flight, and calculate this one was probably 32(05) ~ from the missing or shortened primary in the right wing. When I check that 03 is still there, I find he’s gone ~ maybe to see off the intruder. Bob and Bruce arrive at about 11.50, and we are chatting about the events of the morning when 03 arrives back, without a fish, and settles on the pruned ash, at which point I conclude the notes and hand the ‘volunteer’s baton’ over to my relief, reminding them they may get a visit from Paul and a Cambridge graduate with biscuits. The walk back is hot and sultry. The horses think about coming over for a chat, but decide against it. I’m home by 1.15, in the summer house with a G & T, and writing this.
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