Yellow Bird

This is silly, bizarre and quite wonderful! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did on first hearing!

Mountain: Nantucket Sleighride

Another musical nostalgia-fest for me here. I wanted to share a recording of what has been one of my favourite rock tracks of all-time. No matter how often I listen to this, I never tire of it - the track Nantucket Sleighride by the American rock band Mountain:



This is another band and track to which, like Rory Gallagher, I was introduced by my Uncle David when I was a little lad (maybe 12?). Mountain were an amazing hard rock combo, based around "man-mountain" guitarist Leslie West (vying occasionally for the title of tubbiest guitarist in rock history) and bassist Felix Pappalardi (probably vying for the title of coolest name in rock!). Amazingly, West, Pappalardi and their long-term drumming member Corky Laing are still playing live all over the world today (West seems a bit slimmer these days in the recent Youtube videos I've seen - a bit like Meatloaf, who's also half the man he used to be but in a good way!).

So, Nantucket Sleighride, the title of the track (and the album on which it appeared) is a moving tribute to Owen Coffin, a young whaler who set sail, at the age of 17, on the whaling ship Essex out into the Pacific Ocean on a sperm whale-hunting expedition in August 1819, under the command of his cousin, George Pollard, Jr. As described on Wikipedia: "In November the next year, a whale rammed and stove in the hull of the Essex in mid-Pacific, and the ship sank steadily... The crew of the Essex escaped in small whaleboats, with sufficient supplies for two months, but were not rescued in that time. During January 1821, the near-starved survivors began to eat the bodies of those who died. When even this resource ran out, the four men remaining in Pollard's boat agreed to draw straws to decide which of them should be slaughtered, lest all four die of starvation. Coffin 'won' the lottery, and was shot and eaten." Poor bloody little lad probably never stood a chance as the youngest in a bunch of desperate, starving men.

This song haunts me and it would consistently be a Desert Island Disc choice for me (without irony!). The lyrics of the song clearly concern a whaler being parted for three years from his loved ones on a hunt for the "mighty sperm whale" and the title "Nantucket Sleighride" refers to the major historical whaling port of Nantucket in Massachusets, New England, describing what happened to the whalers' rowing boat when they successfully harpooned a whale. "The whale, realizing it had been harpooned, would attempt to flee and drag the whale boat along with it. The speed of the "sleigh ride" would vary depending on the size of the whale, with larger whales giving faster rides... Once the whale expended its energy, the sailors would kill it and harvest its oil." In the 19th century, whaling was an industry where, unlike today's ongoing mechanised slaughter of whales by Norwegian and Japanese vessels with their large diesel engines and explosive headed harpoons, in the name of so-called "scientific whaling" (aye, right!), the whalers would row out in longboats and attempt to harpoon whales with hand-thrown harpoons. Whaling trips must have been nasty and brutish, and the lives of whalers often extremely foreshortened.

Readers/ listeners of a certain vintage might recognise the refrain in this track - it was used during the 1970's and up to 1988, as the theme music for London Weekend Television's excellent current affairs programme "Weekend World", shown up here on Scottish Television (STV).

Signs of the times: Autumn #6

More comparisons between the British countryside of today and that from 1959-1961 in the paintings of Charles Tunnicliffe in the Ladybird "What to look for..." series of books.

“The gentle sun cobwebs brightly

his black cap, his crimson breastplate”

Norman MacCaig (From: “Bullfinch on guard in a hawthorn tree”, December 1980)

(Copyright: Ladybird Books)

This charming picture shows some of Autumn’s bounty of fruit being enjoyed by one of Britain’s most attractive birds (in my humble opinion). Here, as a car that looks like a psychedelic purple Hillman Minx disappears over the brow of a dip in the road, a pair of bullfinches are feeding on the berries of a road-side elder bush. In the bottom left of the picture, the golden autumnal leaves of a dwarf maple are growing under a heavily fruiting rowan or mountain ash tree, with its clumps of bright red berries.

The Scots gaelic name for the bullfinch is corcan-coille, which I think means “forest finch”, but it has managed to adapt to a wide range of the habitats that humans have carved out of the original forests of Britain. The BTO advises that the bullfinch is most commonly found in scrub habitats but also commonly in deciduous woods, pasture lands, villages and coniferous woods. Although a delightful bird to look at, the bullfinch has a bad reputation with gardeners since its diet, as an adult, is based on soft fruits, and the buds and new shoots of fruit trees and bushes, something g mentioned in the text accompanying this picture. In terms of the fate of bullfinches in Britain, the BTO reports that the UK’s Bullfinch population “entered a long period of decline in the mid 1970s, following a period of relative stability. The decline was initially very steep, and more so in farmland than in wooded habitats, but has been shallower since the early 1980s.”

(From: British Trust for Ornithology)

Although the exact causes are not clear, it is possible that “agricultural intensification and a reduction in the structural and floristic diversity of woodland are suspected to have played a part through losses of food resources and nesting cover”. There is also a suggestion that predation by sparrowhawks may limit the colonisation of certain habitats by bullfinches. Recent figures show a slight upturn although, in Scotland, this has been more marked, with an estimated 30% increase in population between 2003 and 2008. This reflects my own, admittedly anecdotal, experience, that bullfinches are much more common in the Stirling area than when I first moved here over 20 years ago. I certainly see many more pairs in our garden and in nearby parkland woods than I used to, perhaps a response to efforts to improve marginal habitats on farmland through the so-called agri-environment schemes – and perhaps an effect of more gardeners deliberately planting fruit-bearing bushes and trees to benefit fruit-eating (frugivorous) birds. Whatever the reason, it is, to my mind, a welcome return.


Incidentally, one of the nature writers whose work I most admire, Ray Collier, has written a little article about bullfinches in the Highlands. Ray, retired after a career spent working for the government’s nature conservation organisations, is one of the contributing writers for the Guardian newspaper’ s daily “Nature Diary”. He writes beautifully in those articles, little vignettes of the natural history of the Highlands and his daily experiences and encounters, often while walking his dog. I commend his Guardian articles to you - his bullfinch text can be read here, where you can also access his other writing - under the April 2010 heading.


Both the rowan and the elder in full fruit are very powerful images of the bounty of Autumn, the energy of the Sun captured in fruity form, a highly attractive source of energy for birds building their fat stores for the winter ahead. I’ve already written about both the rowan or mountain ash) here and the elder here, so I won’t add more now, other than to say that we have managed to find ways to use both kinds of fruit in our wild food experiments – rowan berries going into rowan jelly for when we have wild Scottish venison (which a local butcher buys in from the Cairngorms National Park red deer culls), and elder variously into hedgerow jams, a somewhat failed cordial (WITH VINEGAR – IT WASN’T GOOD) and into a black berry (as opposed to purely blackberry, if you see what I mean?) fruit coulis(brambles, blackcurrants, elder) to go on ice cream. We’ve also have elderberry clumps dipped in batter and deep fried (tempura elderberries!) – deep-fried fruit? Well, this is Scotland, you know!


As for the so-called dwarf maple in the picture, with its golden Autumnal leaves, I’m afraid it is not something I can track down – it might simply represent a typical maple species that has grown in a dwarf form as a result of continued pruning/ cutting. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything more about it!

Hey dude, where's my marsh?

Wildlife Extra News - Iraq’s Marshes recovering, but now under threat again.

Among a lifetime of evil, insane actions and twisted self-serving policies by and for Saddam Hussein in Iraq, perhaps one of the worst from an ecological perspective was his attempt to eliminate the marsh-dwelling Arabs of the huge reedbeds and marshes of southern Iraq by draining the marshes where they lived and which provided them with their livelihoods, food building materials and food, and on which their ancient culture was based.

12,000 kilometres squared of marshes, lying between the rivers Tigris and Euphrates, the area known historically as Mesopotamia (literally "between the rivers" in ancient Greek), this area is widely regarded as the cradle of Western civilisation, maybe the location of the biblical Garden of Eden. The birth of agriculture, cities, writing all began there.

Before Saddam's insane plan, around 250,000 marsh Arabs lived there. Millions of tonnes of desert soils were imported and used to build large embankments to divert river waters away from the marshes into huge drainage canals. The consequent disastrous drying up of the marshes destroyed this massively productive ecosystem with a 90% loss of area and the breaking up of the indigenous marsh Arab population until only a few thousand remained. Huge populations of birds either died out or left, reedbeds dried out and turned to dust, and fisheries were destroyed. When Saddam's regime was overthrown in 2003, localized breaches in embankments were undertaken in an unco-ordinated ad hoc way, leading to some restoration.

But the process really took off when an ex-pat Iraqi, Azzam Alwash, now a successful owner of an engineering firm in California, returned to the area and began working to restore the marshes. In due course, he established a conservation organisation, Nature Iraq, to lead the work on what is now probably the world's largest habitat restoration project. Struggling with droughts, declining water in the rivers due to upstream dams, e.g. in Turkey, and the difficulties of working in the dangerous security nightmare conditions of post-invasion Iraq, they have nevertheless managed to restore large tracts of marshland and the reedbeds, birds and fish are returning, in some case quite spectacularly. And the people are coming back, with the prospect of a vibrant repopulated "Garden of Eden".

The link above provides more information and a video, based on a BBC2 documentary about the project. More power to the people taking back their land, their water and their inheritance!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Acoustic Rory

Not more Rory Gallagher? Whatever happened to all that nature stuff this blog? Well, don't panic. I just fancied sharing another true favourite track of mine, "Out on the western plain" by Rory Gallagher. He performed this song without his band, alone on stage with an acoustic guitar each time I saw him do it live, a fabulous performance each time. If I could do this, I could die happy... I hope you enjoy it. Back to nature tales soon, I promise...

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Rory Gallagher again...

Regular readers will know that I am a big fan of the late, great Rory Gallagher, Ireland's finest-ever guitarist. Feeling a little sad tonight, I turned to this great performance of a melancholy song for the mood I was in and now I think it needs to be shared. I hope you enjoy it too.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Signs of the times: Autumn #5

More comparisons between the British countryside of today and that from 1959-1961 in the paintings of Charles Tunnicliffe in the Ladybird "What to look for..." series of books.

"The downy seeds of traveller’s joy fill the air, & driving before a gale appear like insects on the wing."

Reverend Gilbert White (From: "Journal for 23 November 1788")

(Copyright: Ladybird Books)

Autumn Picture 5
Three of the first five Autumn pictures involve, or revolve around, scenes of harvest as it was undertaken around 1960. A beautiful barn owl sits, under a (September?) harvest moon, with some very large hay ricks or hay stacks in the background on the edge of a village. Above the owl, the red berries are ripening to purple on a specimen of the wayfaring tree, and the feathery seeds of the traveller’s-joy plant surround the fence post on which the bird sits.


There is a high likelihood that this image represents a southern English location, as, although barn owls are found over much of Britain, both of the featured plant species have a native range restricted to the south (but more on them shortly). The barn owl (Tyto alba) is a rarely glimpsed creature, but is probably most commonly seen as a ghostly white form in your car highlights while driving on country roads. I’ve only seen a barn owl a few times and always on that basis. The British Trust for Ornithology says of this species: “The unearthly shrieks, cries and hisses of the Barn Owl (and its association with churches) may have given rise to a widespread association of owls with all things evil - an owl’s wing was a key ingredient in the witches brew that troubled Macbeth.”


The barn owl is one of our middle-sized predatory birds, like most of our owls, usually hunting by night for small mammals (e.g. mice and voles). The barn owl is so well equipped for its mode of hunting, with large, forward-facing eyes that, like ours, help them to spot their prey in low light conditions, very acute hearing that will allow it to pinpoint prey in pitch black conditions (its ears have a slight asymmetry which introduces a minute delay in hearing between the ears, helping with the targeting), long, sharp, hooked talons to increase the chance of a capture when it strikes, a sharp, hooked beak to dispatch the unfortunate victim and feathers with a downy leading edge to allow near-silent swooping down on the prey. What a package! How unfortunate, therefore, that the countryside we have been creating doesn’t seem to suit this amazing predator. And not just here in Britain: The “Birds of the Palearctic” reports that there has been a widespread decline in the barn owl which has been attributed primarily to intensive farming methods and urbanisation, leading to “loss of foraging habitat, nesting and roosting sites”. Pesticides and road mortality “are further negative factors.”


Even if things were going well for the barn owl, the population size fluctuates naturally with its rodent prey populations, and is also affected by increased mortality in hard winters. The BTO reports a British summer population (in the period 1995-97) of 3-5000 pairs. The decline in the barn owl population is not just a modern phenomenon either – it has apparently been happening since the 19th Century, then at a lower rate until the 1940s, and then more marked after 1955. So, even by the time that this painting was published in 1960, the barn owl was a rare, precious commodity in our bank of nature!


But the species hasn’t been abandoned to its fate just yet. The BTO tells the tale here of how, in earlier decades, “the plight of such a charismatic and popular bird led to extensive releasing of captive-bred birds in well-meaning attempts at restocking: by 1992, when licensing became a requirement for such schemes, it was estimated that between 2,000 and 3,000 birds were being released annually by about 600 operators, although many birds died quickly and few would have joined the nesting population”.


More recently, the erection of Barn Owl nest boxes, “already numbering c.25,000 by the mid 1990s, has enabled the species to occupy areas (notably the Fens) that were previously devoid of nesting sites, and may have been a factor in improving nesting success.” Provisional survey data for the UK show an increase of 464% since 1995, with the caveat that nocturnal species are difficult to monitor accurately. This trend suggests that the current population estimate is much too low, so maybe things are looking up for this lovely bird.


The wayfaring tree (Viburnum lantana) is more of a deciduous shrub than a tree. Shown here with its berries ripening from red to purple, it is native, effectively, to the Home Counties and maybe Wales, although the New Atlas of the British and Irish Flora indicates that it is now planted widely as part of roadside planting schemes and shows its introduced range extending up into central Scotland. The native range has changed little since the original 1962 Atlas. While Richard Mabey’s “Flora Britannica” points out that its flowers smell like lilies, there isn’t much else to say about it!


The other plant shown here is the traveller’s joy (Clematis vitalba), the only native clematis we have in Britain (I think). It is shown here with its feathery seed heads, that earn it the common name: “Old man’s beard” (and it has also been known as “Father Christmas”!). The New Atlas describes it (in admittedly dry technical terms) as a: “climbing perennial with liana-like woody stems, often covering large areas on hedge banks, hedges and walls, trees and scrub, sand dunes, disused quarry faces and ruins. It is a classic railway plant.” Furthermore, “[c]omparison of the current map with the 1962 Atlas suggests that the distribution of C. vitalba is stable.”