James Gilbert

The sole reason I created a wildlife pond in my garden was to (state the obvious) provide for wildlife. Though I’ve just seen a bright, near-full silver moon reflected in its water, and this was a very satisfying, beautiful thing!

Ah that’s nice to know, thanks Sarah.

A Stabilo-yellow brimstone flutters by — my first of the year, the highlight of my day.

(One year to the hour after last year’s first was seen.)

So nice to now wake before dawn and hear blackbird song in the dark outside. To have that company.

Lovely words, Nicola.

Wonderful! They’re such captivating birds!

Yes! Size, colour, patterning — everything!

Magnificent kites are nest-building in a tall sycamore near to my house. I’ve just seen what I presume is one of the paired birds, swoop down onto the verge in the cul-de-sac, & take away in its long talons a sizeable stick from the silver birch growing there. Seeing this? — unthinkable decades ago.

No, she doesn’t like to even dip her paws!

I know! If I was her I’d be mad about it!

My border collie, Maisie, would like this wet weather to let up — to have her ball-playing field back.

On this damp & mild evening, after a four-month absence, it was a small joy to see again just now, out in the lamplit neighbourhood, the dark rounded shape of a foraging hedgehog.

A morning walk spring-whispered, yellow-threaded — forsythia, daffodils, goldcrest.

Ah wow, how wonderful (less so the deer aspect!). Excellent photo!

Badger footprint(s) in soft mud.

A nice badger footprint — well, two footprints, as the smaller hind print overlaps the larger front one (claw marks visible). A shape like that of a little bear.

The childlike joy felt each & every year on seeing in the pond the first-returned newt!

Nice!

Just now it was lovely to hear the year’s first chaffinch song. Just a snatch of that cheery descending rattle, though delightful nonetheless.

Little skylark, your fluttering ways and sweet song was the pocket joy I needed this morning.

A winter racket of hoarse caws, croaks & bright pings, rings out over the waterlogged, glistening pasture I tread. This “rookdaw” sound is carried my way on a keen wind, from a roadside belt of soon-to-flower elm &, in variety & volume, is enough to fleetingly mask the ambient hum of heavy traffic.

Roadside rookeries back to busy — February-stamped joy & positivity & optimism to be felt even from the briefest of windscreen views.

hares follow fieldfares
across the winter stubble
small cloud shadows race

Thank you, Jen.

Had one of the toughest days yesterday, saying goodbye to a loved one. Hymn & prayer in one airless room, followed by food & conversation in another. Drove home consumed by old memories. On reaching for the house keys, a robin started to sing. Perfect, were those delicate notes on welcome fresh air.

Skylarks in close-knit, playful mood, bounding & swirling low above sepia tones — quiet glory to a windswept field in bleak midwinter dress.

Ah, thank you — very kind.

I found the juxtaposition of the image & words emotive — the witnessing of arson & drug taking alongside the beauty seen in & of the birds.

Today found myself in the Lincolnshire Fens — poignant & beautiful to see lapwing flocks wavering in the airspace between black gold and azure blue.

playful zooming hares
put up into blue-sky song
the dear startled lark

When will we learn?…