Buzzard Visitation.

Every day I hear the meowing calls of buzzards as they ride the thermals over my abode. Today however one of these raptors decided to perch itself on the hedge adjacent to my bird feeder. Perhaps it was awaiting a sparrow or finch flitting in for a quick snack.

Although I was indoors I was no more than ten feet from this Messerschmitt of the avian world. He, or she, was oblivious to my presence. Its attention,(gender undetermined),was directed towards the bird feeder. Thankfully I didn't have to witness an execution. The noise of a passing car was sufficent to spook the buzzard and it powered itself high into the sky. Its plaintiff cries filled the sky.

 

North American Immigrant Steals Food from Bird Feeder

Not for the first time I have caught Tufty's American cousin aboard the bird feeder and helping itself to a snack of peanuts. I suppose I should really purchase a couple of those squirrel proof bird feeders. There is at least one family of squirrels ensconced in the garden.

One would think that the beech nuts and acorns would be sufficent for their needs without having to resort to the food provided for the avian residents. Apparently not. I expect one shouldn't be too surprised that Mr. Grey Squirrel is taking the easy option and deciding not to ignore the gift peanut.

At last there seems to be a realistic possibility that the invasive grey squirrel can be controlled and that the red squirrel can regain its lost territory. The red squirrel's saviour may well be the pine marten. The ,"grey," is a bit of a lumbering treat for the pine marten whilst the, "red," is much more nimble and able to venture on to slimmer twigs where the,"grey," dares not venture.

I wouldn't object to providing a few peanut treats for the native, "red."

 

A Beach and a Moment.

I ventured a few miles up the east coast of the Innishowen peninsula yesterday. There was no real reason for this excursion save the perennial ache for solitude and a desire to be outside, free from the stultifying gloop of people and the nagging worry of reality.

I walked along the shingle beach picking my way through the seaweed thrown up by the last high tide. The day was sunny. You could feel the spring warmth on your skin but there was also a freshness in the air. The light breeze was blowing on shore pushing away any noise from the coastal road and easing back that close fitting skull casing of tension. A solitary oyster catcher paddled vigorously across the mud and silt uncovered by the receding tide. At the junction of mud and water rows of gaunt fence like structures stretched into the Lough. The features of the coastline opposite to me were indistinct, slightly blurred by haze, the view that greets the myope every day.

I see someone else lurch down onto the shingle. Solitude is shattered. The moment is gone. The tension returns.

 

The Orchard - Stage 2.

Two years ago I started to create a small orchard and nuttery. Stage one resulted in me planting ten trees comprising four cob trees and six apples. The latter were split evenly between cookers and eaters. At the time I decided to plant maiden apple whips but looking back I now wish that I had spent the extra few pounds and gone for feathered maidens. I suppose that I am just impatient and expecting quicker growth and productivity than is realistic.

This year I executed stage two of the master plan and have planted a further ten trees, all bare rooted specimens. They seem to be taking alright with the leaf buds swelling by the day. The trees included in this second planting were as follows:-

Plum Tree - Czar

Plum Tree - Victoria

Greengage

Cherry - Stella

Cherry - Summer Sun

Cherry - Crown Morello

Pear - Beurre Hardy

Pear - Conference

Pear - Williams

Quince - Cydonia Oblonga

 

With a bit more clearance I think that I will have enough room for a further five trees. That however will be a task for next winter. I am not even quite sure what trees I will choose to complete the orchard with. Perhaps a mulberry and some more apples.

 

Sunday Change

When I counted my age in single figures Sundays were very different from what they are now. Shops were closed. Churches were open. Out of town retail parks hadn't been thought of. There were nurseries but certainly no garden centres. Starbucks, Costa Coffee, Cafe Nero? They hadn't even been dreamt of by their creators. Sundays were a day apart from the rest of the week.

Save for a few paper shops that closed their doors at noon and the odd, the very odd corner shop the world of commerce took a back seat on the seventh day. People were just getting used to having two television channels to choose between. Sunday Night at the London Palladium was the, "must see," programme even though it was provided by the brash, young pretender of the airways, ITV.

Looking back I suppose Sundays were slightly boring, certainly for children. Visiting an elderly relative tended to be the highlight of the day. One was expected to pursue quiet hobbies and pastimes. Sundays were definitely less frenzied. Was it better? The temptation is to clamp those rose tinted lenses firmly in place and answer in the affirmative. However looking at things objectively causes one to admit, albeit reluctantly, that not all the changes have been for the worse. Maybe it is the speed of change which is the most disconcerting thing.

 

'Twixt Winter and Summer

If Spring didn't exist we would have to invent it. How else would we describe the period 'twixt the grey cold Stygian months and the sun warmed season of the cuckoo and the grasshopper. The skeletal framework of the trees still await their softening covering of leaves. The brightness of the daffodils and anemones preface the lusciousness that awaits the garden.

We are on the cusp of the gardening year. The risk of frost is just below the horizon and the beneficence of the forthcoming warmth is just beginning to poke through the detritus of winter. Winter is gone. The lusciousness of summer awaits. We are in springtime.

 

 

Tunnel under Northland Road, Londonderry

Within the grounds of the Northern Ireland Fire and Rescue Services at Northland Road Londonderry is the Victorian villa which was formerly the residence of the Superintendent of the Lunatic Asylum. The property was constructed circa 1873 and it is a four bay, two storey over basement building. It is rock- faced with Dungiven sandstone. A lack of balance is exacerbated by the narrower and shorter upper bays.

By the mid 1960's the old District Asylum which had been originally constructed to serve the counties of Londonderry, Tyrone and Donegal was disused and in a very ramshackle state. It was to be found on the lower side of Northland Road. The grounds had become overgrown by then and brambles and self seeded ash and elder saplings abounded. It was at that stage that I came upon the blocked up tunnel which ran between the asylum grounds and the Superintendent's residence. This provided him with his personal mode of entrance to the asylum. My recollection is that the arched tunnel had been blocked up some seven or eight feet back into the entrance.

 

Sources: City of Derry, An Historical Gazetter. - Daniel Calley