#that kingfisher is the most beautiful thing that has come from my hand this year i think

[spotsupstuff]

oughhh ur art is so like. elegant idk how else to describe it but it’s so pretty i love it <333

ough thank u here's a wippie that makes me think of "elegant" the most when it comes to me art jgsdmlcsdmklg <3

[firefly-in-darkness]

Past Promises

Characters → Y/N & Geralt of Rivia

Summary → Y/N heads to Novigrad to warn Geralt of his future.

Prompt →  “I know right now we are enemies, but I need your help.” [In bold]

Word Count → 2.6k

Warnings → 18+, canon typical violence, scars and wounds, blood, sexy things, Geralt’s thighs and arms (yep they’re a warning).

Beta →  @daydream3r-xo​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Well, here’s my first Geralt fic. I started playing the Witcher 3 (again) during the summer lockdown and I’m halfway through The Last Wish. Repetitive dreams of Geralt and Henry Cavill made me choose him for @justagirlinafandomworld Time Travel Challenge. This has a little bit of the book, video game and Netflix rolled into this so hope you like the combination and hidden context!

Past Promises

The tavern heaved with patrons escaping the rain, the loud chatter and boisterous laughter filling the candlelit space. Y/N attempted to enjoy the meal in peace but there was no escape from the men that lurked and leered at her hooded form. A woman, drinking and eating alone was not only suspicious, but fair game for their ill intent. 

For the most part, she was able to ignore the disgusting remarks and slurred abuse until one of the drunken fools sat opposite. Y/N gulped from the flagon and looked him dead in the eye, a sneer on her lips in hopes that he’d get the hint that she was not in the mood for company.

Of course, the drunk man didn’t. Instead, he leant forward, grinning at Y/N and his grubby fingers reaching forward to pull down the hood. With a flash, she slammed his hand down on the table, a dagger pierced into the table between a couple of fingers.

The man screeched, gaining the attention of the other patrons. Y/N’s eyes flicked between the now silent revellers and the man sat opposite before she looked over to the bartender who shook his head in time with the wiping of a tankard.

Y/N yanked the man forward by his greasy locks, the group of men nearest to her edged forward and her eyes immediately focused on them, the golden glow no longer amiss. A few stumbled backwards, others looked elsewhere.

“I missed, on purpose.” She growled and pushed him away with a force, causing the chair to crash to the ground. “Next time I won’t.”

The man scrambled to his feet and rushed through the patrons. Y/N’s eyes didn’t retreat from his form until he was lost amongst the crowd. Feeling the eyes of others still intently on hers, she retrieved her satchel and headed to leave the tavern.

“Your kind aren’t welcome here,” a man to the side, spat just before she stepped forward.

Y/N twirled, cape billowing open behind her, hood falling, her appearance no longer concealed; a large streak of pure white and her golden eyes glowing ferociously. Looking more menacing with the three jagged scars streaking across her right eye and down her cheek.

The man’s throat was met with the point of a sword, the smell of fear emanated from the man in bucket loads. Y/N held her gaze on the patron that dared to speak out as she had already decided to leave. A tiny drop of blood trickled down his throat, following the curve of his Adam's apple bobbing.

The bartender appeared beside him, “I think you should leave now monster.”

Y/N snarled and with a spin she darted out of the tavern, running through the cobbled streets, bypassing the vendors packing up their stalls and loading wagons. Her body hummed with rage, blood simmering against her skin. The words that had so easily come out of their mouths played over and over in her mind. 

She stopped in an alley between two buildings and leant against the stone. She clutched the talisman at her chest, reminding herself that she was visiting the past, fifty years in the past. That she had endured this back then as one of the few girls to complete the trials.

The medallion no longer vibrated in her hold, or maybe it was her hands that had been shaking before. A tentative step out of the dark alleyway and a few more, she was back in the throng of merchants and townsfolk. 

“Not a step further.” The deep grumble stopped Y/N in her tracks.

Easier to find than I thought, Y/N turned and found a matching set of golden eyes and a grimace that rivalled any other. It wasn’t her Geralt and she had to remind herself of that as he nodded in the direction of an alleyway.

He looked a little younger, not as worn down as the man she knows now. Didn’t have the scar across his face, at least it was an indicator that you were in time to warn him, even though you knew it was going to be difficult to gain his trust. Their past was not pleasant, and it had taken many decades for them to even see eye to eye, let alone be intimate with one another.

She kept her distance, her hand curled around the hilt of the sword. Being prepared for an attack as a Witcher was the norm but to be on guard against the one that you had loved for many years had her heart aching with each step that she followed.

Y/N instantly recognised the large tavern in front of them as the Chameleon, yet in this time it was probably already being run by Whoreson Senior as a brothel. Deep down, she hoped that this wasn’t your stop off, hand tightening around the blade at the thought of having to witness the Geralt from before. The one that frequented these taverns.

Geralt continued his path, he weaved through the empty stalls and the pyres set up in the town square. The crushing weight of jealousy lifted and was replaced with a feeling of disgust and hatred for the blind followers of the Church of Eternal Flame. Before Y/N could comment, she was guided inside The Kingfisher Inn.

A secluded spot and two flagons of ale on the table later, Y/N watched the frothy liquid spill over the cup, anything to avoid looking Geralt in the eyes. She sniffed at the liquid, tested it with the tip of her tongue before guzzling it down. Witcher senses or not, she could never be too careful. 

Geralt’s head shook in dismay, his jaw ticked twice at your action, “I could have killed you back there if I wanted too.”

They both sat there for a moment, tried to read each other, to work out what the other one’s intentions were. The cheers and applause of the patrons pulled their attention away from one another to the stage. A man introduced a very young blonde girl with a lute, the room fell into silence as the beautiful melody filled the room. 

Geralt drained the last of his ale and nodded towards the stairs. Y/N followed him, without question, into his temporary living quarters. Geralt removed his swords and armour yet she remained in her hood, concealed from his fiery gaze.

In a flash, Geralt had Y/N pinned against the wooden frame; his thick forearm pressing against her windpipe. His growl and the gasp for air was enough to send her into a panic. She clawed at his arm, but he instantly pinned it to the door above their heads.

“Why are you here?” His gruff voice rattled your bones, a shiver running over your skin.

The lack of oxygen and his leg locked between Y/N’s legs reminded her of her lover and for a moment she whimpered at the pleasure radiating from the friction of his large thigh at her core. As Y/N gasped for air, she remembered that he was not him.

“Geralt.” Voice hoarse and strained, she glanced down and he followed her gaze.

Y/N pressed the dagger into his abdomen, feeling the pressure against her palm as she pushed the blade harder but not enough to pierce. He immediately eased off her throat but didn’t unleash his hold.

“I know right now we are enemies, but I need your help,” she whispered while her eyes flitted across the room, focusing on anything but to look at him directly.

“We have never been enemies.” Geralt huffed and pushed away, turning from her.

Y/N whimpered at the loss of his hulking frame, yet relief washed over her. She slumped down to the floor, massaging your neck softly. Most of all, the words shocked her; the pair had never gotten along, ever since she left the Dyn Marv caravan to be trained by Master Vesemir at Kaer Morhen. 

As a young Feline, Y/N was nothing like them and did not have the same mindset as the other Witcher’s from the School of the Cat. They were notorious for their lack of commitment to the position of neutrality, their bloodlust and lack of hesitancy in taking on an assassination contract over slaying a drowner.

Geralt lived by a particular code and Feline Witchers went against his code. Cats and dogs are always depicted as enemies and that’s what Y/N and Geralt became. There was room for nothing else.

The frown on her face ached as she tried to process his words, her mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke again.

“You were never a Feline; you have always been one of us.” His deep voice was soft, reminding Y/N of the man back home. Waiting for her return.

She looked up at him, amber eyes locked with hers; his burning gaze unmatching to his neutral expression. He had never told her this before, not even the man back home.

Geralt offered his hand and she accepted it, she stood up but the hood caught on the door frame, revealing her face. Warmth bloomed at her cheek and a stroke of Geralt’s thumb as his fingers traced the jagged scars, following the trail down to the ones at her neck.

Y/N held her breath while he continued to silently inspect the wounds; pulling the string of the cloak and letting it pool at her feet before he pushed aside the collar of the tunic, exposing the scarred flesh of her shoulder and collarbone.

“I only saw you a week ago. How has this healed?” Geralt murmured as his fingers delicately traced the damaged skin.

Once more, Y/N were stunned into silence, minutes ago he was ready to crush her windpipe and now his eyes were full of concern. Not only that, but he had also seen her a week ago. She tried to remember what event he was talking about, but she hadn’t seen him in years at this point, or so she thought.

Y/N tried to remember something so long ago that she wouldn’t have recalled if it wasn’t for travelling back in time. Instinct told her to push Geralt away, instead, Y/N’s hands rested on his chest, fingers fiddling with the edging of the fabric. The ashen chest hairs peeking through the v-shaped tunic made her mouth water, but he was not hers.

The chime of the clocktower snapped Y/N back to the task at hand and gently pushed him back to collect her cloak and prepared her speech. She’d rehearsed it a thousand times already, but she couldn’t give too much away; the ripple of her being here now was already too great.

“Geralt, please listen to me carefully.” Y/N’s voice was stern.

“Hmm.” He leant against the desk, arms folded in front of him and legs laced over the other.

“You will be surprised by something in Cintra. You’ll be gifted something that belongs to another, something unexpected. You’ll need to protect this source of power.” Y/N tried to keep your words even, but panic seeped into them with each toll of the bell, “Please Geralt, remember. I haven’t got any time left.”

“I don’t follow, why are you talking in riddles Y/N?”

A gust of air filled the room, a spiral of green light filled the room, forming an arc just above Y/N’s head, the inside darker than the night’s sky. It was time to leave, if she didn’t then she’d have no chance of making it back. She couldn’t stay here.

Y/N rushed past Geralt and grabbed a piece of parchment and hastily wrote across it before nearing the portal, “promise me, Geralt. Promise me that you won’t forget.”

“I promise.” He stared at the paper in his hands, Y/N was through the portal by the time he looked up from the scribbled words.

The motion of being pushed and pulled, twisted, and spun made Y/N feel nauseous and once she was out the other side, she collapsed onto the bedroom floor. Her Geralt was by her side in an instant, his calloused hands lifted Y/N to her feet and into his embrace. Y/N held onto his sides and breathed in his familiar scent.

“It would have been a lot easier if you had come with me.” She mumbled into his chest.

“You know I hate portals.” Geralt chuckled, pushing Y/N’s ashen streaks from her face, and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I hope it worked,” she whispered.

Geralt pushed Y/N to arm’s length, lowering himself to eye level, “Of course it did.”

She frowned at him, uncertain as to what he could mean, a small pout formed on her lips, her mind swirled with panic at failing.

“We are the same, remember. You told me something, I listened. Well, I kept the scrap of paper.” Geralt held her hand and pulled towards the bed and opened one of the many chests full of books and scrolls.

Y/N perched on the bed, as he sifted through until he came across the book he needed. Passing it to her, a book of Dandelion’s ballads. On instinct, she turned the pages to the bookmarked location to find the parchment with her handwriting.

Cintra. Source. Protect.

Geralt knelt before Y/N, his hands massaging her thighs. She looked up at him, hand tracing the side of his face with a soft smile.

“No one would risk travelling through time to prepare me for what was to come. To warn me of the future. I thought you hated me until that night.” Geralt leant his head into her palm, the stubble ticked her skin, “if only I had known sooner.”

Geralt’s hands travelled down Y/N’s legs, leaving shivers to echo across her body. His fingers made light work of the laces of her boots while he pressed soft kisses to the inside of her wrist, and up along her forearm. 

Y/N revelled in the feel of his touch and how easily she melted to his will. He removed the boots and tugged down her trousers. Soft kisses were pressed to the inside of her thighs, the sensation had her falling back into the mattress. 

His lips met her stomach, wet kisses, and gentle nips at the flesh while his hands pushed up the tunic, bunching it above her bare breasts. Geralt flicked his tongue over her hardened buds, his hands massaging the soft mounds. 

One of his thighs slipped between his legs as he caged her in; hot breaths mingled together, and fire burned in each other’s gaze. Love and lust-filled the atmosphere and Y/N’s core hummed with anticipation for his intimate touches.

“You weren’t exactly subtle when you rubbed against my thigh.” Geralt smirked above her.

Y/N slapped at his arm, a cheeky smile on her lips, “shut up and kiss me.”

His laughter rumbled through his chest against her exposed torso, he leant down and pressed his lips to hers without any further request.

Everything Tag List: @reann-loves-sebstan​ / @royaldarknessblr  / @thefridgeismybestie​ / @kitkatd7​ / @harold321​

[chaosciara]

where the arch meets

I have not read King of Scars so I do not know anything about the plot therefore some information about Nikolai could be outdated. This is also the first time I've ever written for this fandom so hopefully I did the characters justice. My friend and I watched S&B and were talking about ships and I said I wanted to see Kaz and Nikolai together which then prompted whatever the hell happened here, please enjoy!

CW: mentions of blood, mentions of gambling

There are no spoilers for the S&B show

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

Kaz stares out the window, a glum look on his usually stoic face. Ketterdam was alive, unusual joy spinning itself in the streets as the city busies itself for the arrival of the one and only King Nikolai Lantsov. The festivities of the "Peacekeeper" as he had been so lovingly named, had started three long days ago. Every day that Kaz wakes up to popping streamers, and the litany of ballads associated with the King's ever growing list accomplishments, is a day his stolen peace gets ripped from beneath him. He's not even sure why the King is so popular. He can't say he was anywhere near impressed enough at their brief meeting to warrant the five different ballads about those hazel eyes alone. Kaz looks down at the papers littering his desk, crow club books and bank statements for his various 'assets', communications between the various councils in Ravka and Ketterdam, and the most recent letter from Inej, smelling of the sea.

Their friendship is something of a mystery to the world but between them she is the rock that kept him steady. Even now, with her sailing the high seas content to her freedom, he can feel the unwavering quiet of her. Briefly, he wishes she were here. She would make him laugh, tell him to stop being so glum about the brown-eyed, blonde haired king if he insisted on doing nothing about it. He wouldn't let his amusement at her teasing show, but later in the safety of his room, this room, he'd let a rare smile show. He misses their quiet friendship most of all. But she is happy on her ship with her crew and he has shit to do. He always has shit to do.

The thought, stark and unwelcome, snaps him back to the present. A scowl replaces his faraway look as he shuts the window to the new round of baudy tunes drifting up and straight into the headache knocking at his skull. He sits back down harder than he intended, and winces at the pain that lances down his back and into his leg. He can hear Nina, chastising him for not putting on the salve, for not resting. But he doesn't have the time. He can't do something as normal as rest. He has a city to run. Or at least the underbelly of a city to run.

The statements stare at him but the numbers swirl like melting ice-cream in a bowl, and he wants to throw the pages in the fire in frustration. But he has never acted on emotion, and he will not start now. So he pushes away from his desk, cane already cool under his fingertips, and makes his way to the floors of the crow club.

The passage muffles the sounds of chips cluttering on a table, and glasses set down hard on the wood, and shouting when someone wins, loses, almost gets decked for supposed cheating. But as soon as he steps past the doors, nodding at the two guards he'd posted at this entrance, all of that chaos surrounds him. There is no hush as he steps into the room, no blanket of fear or anger or anything. They don't even know he is there. They won't until he makes himself known. Spending years with his Wraith had taught him some things, even with the click of his cane. He looks to the corner expecting to spot Jesper; his heart, as it had done every day since they had all parted ways, clenched upon seeing the empty space where his sharpshooter was supposed to be. The disappointment doesn't stop his eyes from travelling to the table closest to the kitchens— or as the Nina lovingly called it, the muck hut— where Wylan was usually hunched over notebooks or losing to just about everyone, except maybe Inej, in a game of cards.

He misses them. He'd never tell them, would never let it so much as flash across his face, but he couldn't stop his heart from the same onslaught. He felt it every day. Every time he looked to his window and Inej wasn't perched atop it. Every time he walked to the gambling tables and Jesper wasn't leaning over it, brown eyes shining with hope. Every time he wandered the corridors of the club hearing Wylan's flute. When he decides to put salve on it's because he hears Nina's voice, sees her frown, as she tries so hard to heal them. He even misses Matthias but that is a road he doesn't allow himself to go down. A failure he cannot yet acknowledge. His trip down memory lane ends abruptly when a man with a hood over his eyes, shadowing his face, steps up to him.

"You Kaz, Kaz Brekker?" The voice is rough, almost too rough, but the lilting accent is familiar. Before he can place it the man is talking again.

"I want to speak with you, about a deal."

Kaz tilts his head, resting gloved hands on his cane as he takes the figure in. "Liar."

The man sputters jerking back, and just briefly he catches a glimpse of golden skin and something shiny pinned to his coat. "It's urgent!" The man's voice is not so rough, and that accent, charming in a way, bleeds through more and more.

"I'm not available for deals." It is not true, but he wants to see how they'll react, what they're capable of if he says no.

"You'll like this one." The roughness has been replaced by arrogance. And the world opens wide for Kaz.

"Come," He turns, already limping towards the doors and his rooms beyond. "Don't say anything until we're behind closed doors"

It takes them exactly one minute and twelve seconds to get to his study. As soon as he hears the door click behind him, he lifts his cane and with brutal precision he rips through the clasp at the man's chest and watches the coat land in a heap on his wooden floor. Letting the crows head of his cane fall back into his hand he finally looks up. "What are you doing here King?" The question holds more exhaustion than he's willing to admit.

"What?" The King of Ravka grins, beautiful and bright and full of arrogance, "You aren't happy to see me?"

And Kaz wants to tell him no and piss off and leave me alone, but his heart is pounding and there is blood rushing between his ears and he doesn't really remember what breathing does, how it works. Because this is the first time he's ever seen Nikolai. When they met all those years ago he was Sturmhond, the privateer. Since then Kaz has only seen posters, and art. But none of them, not a single one, has ever done the king justice. He is........ he is magic.

"Oh come on," The blonde is laughing. It sounds like water. It sounds like peace. "You can't expect me to act like a stranger after all the letters we've sent." Yes, the letters. The updates King Nikolai had requested about Ketterdam, about the barrel, about the illegal smuggling of grisha to work as slaves. Those letters. "What?" The King looks at him speculatively, amusement sparking in his hazel eyes— they suit him so much better than the green of Sturmhond. "Volcra got your tongue?"

“Didn't know you would be in town," Kaz manages to grind out. He hopes it sounds like irritation and not infatuation.

"The six million posters and seven ballads about my adventures aboard the Kingfisher were not notice enough?" That grin is back. It is ruining him. "Oh dear, next time I'll be sure to add floating parades to the mix."

"That's tomorrow." He glowers. He doesn't think the blonde could get anymore insufferable. He is wrong.

"Do you have plans to attend then?"

He ignores the question, the tease. "What are you doing here Lantsov?"

"I'm here for the festival Mr, Brekker."

"I mean here." He motions to the room, to him. "What are you doing in the Barrel, in my club—" He wants to say 'in my room'. He catches himself.

"I came," Nikolai steps a little closer. There's still do much distance between them, practically an ocean, but Kaz can feel the tension wrapping around his lungs. He wants out. He wants closer. He wants, he wants, he wants....... "To visit a friend Mr Brekker. I don't exchange letters detailing my failed attempt at diving through the sky with just anyone." Oh saints he's going to die. He's never going to survive this. His face is a brick wall, a crack where his frown breaks through.

"You are a busy man King, busier even, than i am." He wants to applaud himself for the steadiness of his voice. "I doubt that you had time to just pop by. So what do you want, Nikolai?"

There is a flash of something in those beautiful eyes, and he wants to chase it to the ends of the earth. "Must we always have an ulterior motive?" The voice is quiet, but it is filled with curiosity and emotions Kaz doesn't have the ability to unpack. "Is it not good enough that I wanted to see you Kaz."

The Underboss of Ketterdam becomes a rain, becomes wind, and earth, and gold. He sits down on his desk, uninterested in the groan of the wood as it tries to carry his weight. Nikolai looks at him, soft and open, all that charm hidden- packed away for a moment far removed from this one. Somehow the distance has shrunk between them until there is only two steps, maybe three before their bodies can collide. He knows Nikolai would not come closer, but some part of him wants the king to try. Wants to see what would happen. He shoves that part so far down it got to hell before him.

"Say something," The blonde whispers.

"How long till they realize you've snuck off?" The bark of laughter that escapes the king is like jurda straight into his bloodstream.

"We have an hour tops."

"Let's go." He throws a new hood, midnight blue and embellished with golden thread, at him. It's his own. He doesn't have time to find another. Nikolai puts it on, fastening the small gold clasp at his front, and Kaz has to remind himself to breathe when he sees how beautiful those colours are against that golden skin. It looks a thousand times better on Nikolai than it ever had in him.

"Where are we off to then?" The blonde asks, his familiar charm steady through his features once more. "You're not intending to kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder are you?" Before he can even start to ignore the question Nikolai is carrying on. "I have to tell you I won't make a very high bid. I seem to have botched myself a little when I turned into one of the Darkling's little pets. I think my di—"

"Shut up will you," He snaps, black eyes scanning the club as they walk through it.

"A little tense Mr Brekker," He can hear the grin. He doesn't know whether he wants to slap it or stare at it. He keeps walking.

They're outside and it's just started to drizzle and he has the brief thought that maybe he shouldn't be making the king of Ravka gallivant in the rain. But then he catches a glimpse of Nikolai's expression, full of wonder and glinting with excitement and he can't turn back even if he wants to.

"Kaz," Saints he loves the way the blonde says his name. "I really think it's better if I know where we're going, sake of safety and all that."

"We're going to the docks."

"You're not intending to drown me, are you?" There is no concern hidden behind the question, only delighted amusement.

"If I had intended to be rid of you Nikolai," Kaz turns his head, stares at the man, "I would have done it the second you walked into my club."

"Even though you didn't know it was me?"

It's his turn to smirk, and he revels in it. "I know everyone that comes into my club, King." The title reverberates in his throat. He catches the flash in the royal's eye.

"Why are you taking us to the docks?"

"I want to show you something, privateer." The strangled noise he hears in answer makes him force down the smile threatening to erupt.

The rain is at that awkward stage where it's more than a drizzle but less than a downpour. The kind that seeps into your clothes, makes your bones wet before you can even feel it on your skin. But they're almost there, he can see their destination clear in front of him. They are quiet, a rare thing for Nikolai he thinks, as they walk. Every now and then he glances to his companion who is always staring at the world in wonder. Like every corner produces a new kind of thrill. Like he'll be able to collect them all and bottle them for his journey home.

"Why are you staring at my pretty face?" The subject of his hidden amazement asks. "You've never been one to appreciate beauty Mr Brekker. If you did you'd have commented on my lovely violet wax seals at least once." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at that. The wax seals were the least interesting thing about the letters. He usually ripped them open like a mad man, clawing for the content inside and reading it as if it were going to disappear before he could get to the, 'fondly, Nikolai Lantsov' at the end.

"I have more interest in the contents inside."

At that the King does roll his eyes, "Oh yes, the ever so interesting reports about dock lookouts and safe grisha arrivals."

"It's my business."

"Mhm" Is all the blonde has to say.

They step onto the docks, and the tap of his cane, louder, more prominent on the wood, rings slightly in his ears. It's a comforting sound. One he has come to rely on to keep him steady. Especially when there's a king walking in stride with him, a king who kind of looks like the sun just before it disappears over the horizon. A king who scents his letters with lavender because he wants people to know calmness. A king who has never touched him but always stands close enough that he can feel the heat of him.

He recognizes the marker that tells him they're in the right place and then he motions for Nikolai to stay behind him. "Its small so we'll have to be close together." He says quietly.

"Are you okay with that?" The question is so gentle, so full of worry it almost buckles his knees.

"I'll manage."

"Kaz," He sounds hesitant, he sounds worried. "You don't have to force yourself to do something for me."

"I'm not, now come on before it disappears." And then they're stepping into an alcove only slightly bigger than a coffin and they're so close and there's so little air. But still Nikolai is not touching him and the leather of Kaz's gloves is warm against his skin. There is no part if him exposed to the elements, except his face. He takes one breath, takes two. The king is looking at him with concern, it is swimming in his features.

"Look up." Together they tilt their heads, and as the weak sunlight, bogged by rain, sinks to the floor the gems buried in the stones of the roof above them come ablaze. Crimson reds, and sapphire blues, and forest greens, and golden yellows. The light fractures and morphs and dances around them, like coloured stars.

He had discovered this wonder in a burning rage, trailing blood down the docks. He'd beaten up a man who betrayed their gang- dirty work for the boss- but half way down the docks he'd thought he was being followed and he slipped into this little alcove. He comes back every chance he gets.

"This is—" For once King Nikolai Lantsov is speechless. "How did you even find such a thing?" The hood had fallen off his head when he looked up so every angle of his face is on sharp display. The miserable lighting only made him more golden as if he was defying the weather simply by existing. And the gemstones reflected in his eyes, turning them every shade of rare rainbow. One of three Kaz had ever seen in Ketterdam.

He just raises a brow. "We should be getting back, I'm sure they've already sounded the alarm."

The blonde snorts, "They're used to it by now."

"Oh you sneak off to visit all your friends?" They step out carefully, making sure not to disturb the structure or get caught in the act.

"Feeling less special?"

"Wondering if maybe you should pay your guards more."

They bicker all the way back, about everything, trading wit and meaningless insults in equal measure. Kaz insists on dropping Nikolai off at his lodgings and Nikolai insists he doesn't have to despite leading them towards the building he's staying in. When they finally arrive, it is with a sense of longing for more that settles between them. More time, more laughter, more traded quips, just more.

"Goodbye Mr Brekker." The King bows his head.

"Nikolai." He nods.

"Come visit me in Ravka soon." It's the line he prints in every letter, no matter how far apart their replies are, or how many other things they have going on. Kaz never acknowledges it. He won't put that kind of hope into them. He must stay here. He must work.

But today, with happiness bubbling under his skin, he cant help but let loose a small smile and a dangerous promise. "I'll try."

And fading under the bustle of people is a small golden plaque on the floor of the alcove. "To those we love, and love unconditionally." A bigger promise, one that has lasted through time itself.

"That's all we can do Kaz," Nikolai smiles. "We try."

[thecrimsondeck]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: RWBY Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi Characters: Qrow Branwen, Clover Ebi, Weiss Schnee Additional Tags: fairgameweek2020 Summary:

Professor Qrow Branwen had a crow imprint on him many years ago. Things didn't change much after that, until he met Professor Clover Ebi who had a kingfisher imprint on him. Some months later after the pair meet and become close, Callie, the crow, brings Qrow a feather.

------

In this world, birds would imprint on humans and assist them in finding their soulmates, in turn they would often find their own mates in the process. The humans would get markings of a feather their bird has which is how they learn when the bird imprints. How they understood when they found the soulmate of their human was unknown but it worked. The birds find their human’s soulmate in many different ways but sometimes they take longer then others.

Qrow Branwen was one of these cases. A crow had imprinted on him, the crow spent most of her time comforting him and being with him so he wasn’t alone that she hadn’t gotten much chance to be out and about. He had been through a lot in his life and the crow was a welcome addition to his life. He was a teacher and it was nice to have company to grade papers with.

Clover Ebi was another one of these cases. He had a kingfisher and the kingfisher had a bit of separation anxiety so she never got the chance to leave her human’s side. She herself only found her human because she got caught in some fishing net but luckily Clover found her and nursed her back to health. Recently he was hired as a teacher at the local academy of his new town he moved to. He’d met some cool teachers already and one he really liked but he was still adjusting to his move.

There was a loud croak from the closed window of the messy office. Professor Qrow Branwen jolted a bit at the sudden croak as realization came across his face. He forgot to open the window for his crow. In moments he was on his feet and opening the window. A large crow hopped in, she was much larger then normal with beady red eyes and a feather crest. In her beak there was a feather, it was small and a unique shade of blue. “Callie, what’s this?” Qrow asks as he takes the feather, it was quite small. The crow squawks and jumps, flapping her wings with excitement. “Wait, is this… Callie, did you find them?” She nods as she calms herself. It was odd for a bird to find a person with a different species of bird. “Are you sure?” She croaks, seeming offended. He took a moment to think, he thought he’d seen this feather before. It was someone on staff but he couldn’t place his finger on who.

“Morning, Qrow, I brought coffee,” a cheerful voice greets as they walked past the open door to their office. It was Clover Ebi, a semi new professor here but one Qrow had gotten quite close to in recent months. His thoughts were derailed by the sound of his voice and he spun on his heel, heading for the doorway. He stops as Clover pops out of his office holding a coffee cup from the place the pair often got their coffee from.

“Thank you,” he says with a small nod as he brings it to his lips. He needed this, he didn’t get much sleep last night, especially with Callie gone all night. Zephyr, Clover’s kingfisher, popped her head out of Clover’s chest pocket which brought a small smile to Qrow’s lips. “She’s gotten much less shy around me, huh?”

“She really has,” Clover muses as his eyes stay trained on Qrow, he was hopelessly in love with him but terrified to admit it. He ripped himself from his thoughts as Zephyr fully removed herself from the pocket and flew into the room. “She actually found my soulmate today. She brought me a black feather.”

“That’s funny, Callie did the same. It’s going to take some time to figure out which bird the feather belongs to but I guess I’m excited,” he says with a dry chuckle. Clover has been a main support in Qrow’s life lately and he had to admit there were feelings there. It was kind of painful to hear about the feather but then again he was a step closer to finding his own soulmate. Before he could ask more about the feather there was the sound of someone clearing their throat, it was Weiss Schnee.

“Professor Ebi, may I speak with you?” She asks. The professor nods and he flashes Qrow a smile before the two disappear into the office. He sighs and slumps against the doorframe as he looks into his office and finds Zephyr sitting on Callie’s back. He chuckles lightly as he leans forward a bit before pushing off the door frame and walking back to his chair. The little kingfisher stayed with him most of that day but when she left to go to her human’s office or classroom, Callie went with her. It was odd but Qrow thought nothing of it till his walk home.

Qrow walked with his hands in his pockets, Callie was soaring above him with just the wind carrying her, occasionally she’d flap her wings to keep her on course but otherwise just relaxed and enjoyed being in the air. He felt at peace as the sun set in the distance. He glanced up at his bird and smiled as she looked back down at him. He wondered what it felt like, to be above it all, what was it like to fly? He let his thoughts travel down that road until he realized that he was messing with the small blue feather. He pulled it out of his pocket and studied it a bit. He’s seen this feather before, or at least the color before. He was nearly home by now but he slowed his pace so he could continue to think. Realization hit, a kingfisher. He stopped in his tracks and Callie began to circle, a small questioning croak coming from her.

“Callie, is this Zephyr’s?” He asks looking up at his corvid. She lets out a loud caw as she circles and Qrow’s eyes widen. Of course, of course it was the person right in front of him, but what if Clover didn’t like him like that? What if he was disgusted to know Qrow was his soulmate? What if it wasn’t actually Zephyr’s? Just what if? Talons dug into his right shoulder and he was broken free of those thoughts as Callie stood on his shoulder and tapped her beak to his forehead. He dug through his mind for the address, he had spent the night a few times during finals week since Clover lives closer to campus while Qrow does not as well as a few other times when there were late nights spent at the school and Clover didn’t like the idea of Qrow walking so far when it was dark, or when they graded papers together. His crow took flight and Qrow ran after her.

It felt like hours before Qrow found himself in front of the apartment door. It was a dark green, it was a nice color that matched with the white walls of the hall and fitting for the man who lived in this apartment. Nerves overtook him as Callie sat on his shoulder impatiently. She kept him grounded, she also kept him from running since she had a habit of nipping his ear or hair when he did something he shouldn’t. He apparently took too long because the crow leaned forward and tapped on the door with her large beak.

The dark green door swings open and the familiar figure of Clover Ebi becomes visible, his normal friendly smile on his face. He was in grey sweatpants and a green tank top, his hair seemingly fresh from the shower yet perfectly styled, other then a few out of place strands here and there. “Qrow? Come on in,” he says moving out of the way and opening the door fully. Qrow gives a nervous smile as he walks in. Callie takes flight, loud croaks escaping her but she pauses to listen. A sharp call responds and she takes off down the hall. “Those two have really gotten close.” Qrow nods as he fidgets with the blue feather. “Something on your mind?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that,” Qrow says, it was an understatement to say he was nervous. He avoided eye contact as much as he could despite how he normally loved to stare into the other professor’s eyes.  

“Then let’s chat, come sit down,” Clover says, placing a hand on the others lower back and guiding him more into the familiar apartment and to the couch. The pair sit down, their knees touching as Clover sits facing Qrow with his left elbow resting on the back with his cheek against his fist. Qrow was sitting in the corner, tilted slightly towards Clover, with his hands still fidgeting with the feather as he stared at it. “This is a safe place, Qrow, you can share as much as you want but I really am worried about you right now.” His free hand was resting on the knee pressed with Qrow’s, he was tempted to rest it on the other’s knee but he didn’t want to push it with the physical contact.

“T-this,” he pauses to clear his throat, “is the feather Callie brought me this morning. I thought you might find it familiar.” He holds it out to the other who takes it carefully. He spins it slowly in front of his eyes and studies it.

“This is for sure a kingfisher feather,” he says, failing to hide the excitement and curiosity in his voice. The corners of Qrow’s mouth twitched upwards but he still had doubts.

“Is it Zephyr’s?” He manages to ask. Clover shrugs and whistles. The small bird flew into the room and was on her human’s thigh in seconds while the massive corvid landed carefully on her human’s head, which got a laugh from Clover. Qrow couldn’t hide the smile that blossomed when he heard the beautiful noise that was the other professor’s laugh.

“Hey, is this yours?” He asks holding the feather in front of the small kingfisher who seemed more interested in Callie. She looks at it, tilting her head before hopping forward and taking it. Clover stared at her in silence as Callie dropped down onto his other thigh and the two nuzzled beaks. He lifts his turquoise eyes to the beautiful crimson of the other’s. They both were speechless for a moment at the clear answer they were given. ”Hey, I guess I can ask you out on that date now.”

“You wanted to ask me out on a date?” Qrow asks, he could feel the heat rising to his face as he held eye contact.

“Y-yeah, nothing too fancy, just a simple before work coffee date at our coffee place,” he replies rubbing the back of his neck, his own face was quite flushed. “So will you join me tomorrow morning for coffee?”

“Of course,” Qrow replies smiling. He had met his soulmate and it turned out to be the man he hoped it would be. It seemed Qrow Branwen’s luck was finally changing.

[ladyherenya]

Books read in April

I probably spent more time reading but I also read a handful of novellas and a couple of children’s novels, which means I read more books than usual.

Many of these were, if not outright retellings, than heading close to that sort of territory: faeries and fairytales, Sherlock Holmes, Jane Austen, and Norse gods...

Favourite cover: Masque, maybe.

Reread: Nothing, too busy reading new things...

Still reading: Cinder by Marissa Meyer.

Next up: There’s a new Murderbot novel out in early May!!!

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing and Dreamwidth.)

*

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams (narrated by the author): Adams’ descriptions are clever and unexpected, and he strings together a series of events even more bizarre and unexpected than his descriptions. Sometimes I felt exhausted on behalf of his poor protagonists, bounced from one mishap to another, but I was impressed by Adams’ ability to turn this madness into such a coherent story.

Flamebringer by Elle Katharine White: A solid, tense conclusion to Heartstone and Dragonshadow. However, I suspect it would have made more of an impact had I read the first two books recently. It assumes that the reader remembers more worldbuilding details -- about history and family connections and magical folk -- than I did. And because I found such details confusing, I didn’t pay close attention to some of the history and politics revealed in this book, and those things turned out to be unexpectedly important. A trilogy in much need of a glossary.

Hamster Princess: Harriet the Invincible by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): A very amusing take on ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Upon learning of her curse, Harriet accurately concludes that she must be invincible until it strikes -- and when the time arrives, she’s determined to avoid falling into an enchanted sleep. This is heavily-illustrated. The pictures are great, but were often awkwardly displayed in the Libby e-book. 

The Art of Theft by Sherry Thomas: More of a heist story than a murder mystery, which may explain why I found it less compelling than The Hollow of Fear, although admittedly, it has its suspenseful sequences. Thomas does some interesting things in expanding her portrayal of the era as well as Mrs Watson’s story, taking Charlotte Holmes and her trusted associates to France on a mission along with someone from Mrs Watson’s past. I liked that Livia gets to play a more active role in those adventures. But I expected to like this more.

Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn: Meg is desperate for inspiration and company. She comes up with a project, looking for hand-lettered signs around New York, and invites along a former client -- who has turned up to question Meg about the hidden message in the wedding program she designed for him and his ex. A story about signs, secrets and the importance of having difficult conversations. I liked how those themes are explored in different areas of Meg’s life: making an effort to get to know Reid, setting boundaries with a new client, and trying to stop her best friend from drifting away.

Once Upon a Marigold by Jean Ferris (narrated by Carrington MacDuffie): Christian was brought up in a cave by Edric the troll, who discovered Chris hiding in the forest. Now Chris is in love with the princess Marigold, with whom he has exchanged letters carried by pigeon but has never met.  If I had discovered this in 2002 when it was first published, I suspect I’d have been delighted by its gentle, whimsical, almost-fairytale-ness. These days I tend to want more complexity and more emotion and, often, more critical engagement with the genre’s tropes. But this was still pleasant company while I did a few hours of housework.

The Shards of a Broken Sword novella trilogy by W.R. Gingell: 

Twelve Days of Faery: King Markon’s son appears to be afflicted by a strange curse, because accidents and misadventure befalls any girl the prince flirts with. When an enchantress offers to deal with the curse in exchange for the expected reward of the prince’s hand in marriage, Markon gets swept up in her investigation. This is so much fun. I liked the way it focuses on a middle-aged father, rather than any of the more usual candidates for this sort of story, like his son or any of the young women affected by the curse. And I enjoyed Althea’s confidence and practical competence.

Fire in the Blood: Another story interested in twisting fairytale tropes. A prince sets out to rescue a princess from a tower, but neither of them are the protagonist -- that’s Rafiq, the prince’s enslaved dragon, forced into human-form. Rafiq has been dragged along on this quest and quietly hopes that his vicious master will fail to unravel the tower keep’s protections. I enjoyed this. The tower keep, with its magical puzzles, was an intriguing setting, and it was rather satisfying to see Rafiq and the princess’s serving girl subtly undermine the prince’s efforts without drawing his ire.

The First Chill of Autumn: The first two standalone and take place over a few days. This does not. It begins with Princess Dion’s childhood. At seventeen, Dion is sent on a tour of her country and discovers the truth about the Fae’s influence. She ends up joining forces with characters from the previous books. I liked each of these sections. However, this could easily have been expanded into something novel-length and been stronger for it. If more time had been given to Dion’s relationships -- with her sister, Barric and Padraig, and maybe her parents -- the ending would have made more of an emotional impact.

“A Tale of Carmine and Fancy”: This short story takes place during The First Chill of Autumn. I didn’t care about Carmine one way or another when he turned up in the trilogy, so I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this.

A Posse of Princesses by Sherwood Smith (narrated by Emma Galvin): Sixteen year old Rhis is one of many princesses invited to attend festivities held in honour of a crown prince. My first impression -- a nice-but-unremarkable story with an irritating audiobook narrator -- quickly changed. I got used to the narrator’s voice. I really appreciate Smith’s portrayal of social interactions and of group dynamics from the perspective of someone who is trying to understand why others are competing for attention. And once the plot took off, I was hooked. I have mixed feelings about the very end but that didn’t change how much I liked the rest of the story.

The Two Monarchies sequence by W.R. Gingell:

Clockwork Magician: Several years after Blackfoot, Peter starts at university. Because Peter ends up messing around with time-travel, there are scenes from his future in the previous books. It’s interesting getting those moments from Peter’s perspective and fitting the puzzle pieces of his story together. I also felt invested in Peter’s journey even though he spends a lot of time being arrogant and oblivious, because I knew that there must be a significant change up ahead. The way his dawning realisation is handled was unexpectedly satisfying. I also enjoyed seeing more of Poly and Luck, and getting to know Glenna.

Masque: A murder mystery which turns into a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Lady Isabella Farrah is determined to investigate after a friend is killed at the Ambassador’s Grand Ball, even if doing so annoys the official investigator, the masked Lord Pecus. Isabella is excellent company. She’s quick-witted, resourceful and uncowed. I really enjoyed watching her banter and meddle. The Beauty and the Beast elements are cleverly woven into the story, and even without the murder investigation, there’s enough to make it a unique take on an old tale. A delightful standalone companion to this series.

Frankly in Love by David Yoon: Frank Li has watched his parents react to his older sister’s choices and he knows they will never accept him dating anyone who isn’t Korean. So he and a family friend, Joy Song, pretend to date. Fake-dating is one of my most favourite romance tropes but I’m not a fan when it’s a cover for actually dating someone else -- I don’t like others getting hurt by the deception. Despite that, I found this YA novel engaging and unexpectedly moving. And an absolutely fascinating look at being the child of immigrants.

The Night Country by Melissa Albert: The Hazel Wood was excellent, sharp and compelling, but I didn’t enjoy the sequel much at all. In the first book there’s a much stronger thread of hope running through the darkness.

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: The letters exchanged between Red and Blue, two agents on opposing sides of a time war, are vibrant and memorable, playful and poignant. I particularly enjoyed their different names for each other. (“Dearest Blue-da-ba-dee”, “My Dear Mood Indigo”, “Dearest 0000FF” -- that one made me laugh, “Dear Red Sky at Morning”...) The scenes in between leave many questions unanswered about the war being fought. I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that if I actually understood what was going on, I wouldn’t like the characters. Nevertheless the letters are brilliant, and I can deal with uncertainty for the space of a novella.

A Dead Djinn in Cairo by P. Djèlí Clark (narrated by Suehyla El-Attar): This novelette is too brief to involve what I enjoy most about murder mysteries, like carefully prying into people’s motives or characters forming supportive relationships in the face of an atmosphere of suspicion and unease. It is possible I’d like this worldbuilding in a different story, and that I would care more about Special Investigator Fatma el-Sha'arawi if I spent more time with her.

The Jane Austen Project by Kathleen A. Flynn: Rachel and Liam, a doctor and an actor-turned-academic, are sent back to 1815 to befriend Jane Austen and uncover an unpublished novel. Time travel allows for portraying Austen’s world with historical accuracy from the perspective of a woman with contemporary attitudes, and creates interesting challenges and anxieties. There’s a high degree of wish fulfilment in meeting Austen, but also realistic complications and consequences. This book impressed me even though -- or perhaps because -- it wasn’t always comfortable or to my taste. I’d have adored it, had things been slightly different, yet it’s nevertheless gripping and thought-provoking storytelling. I respect that.

[apromisetoyou]

Dear Hong Kai

It's the start of your me time now. From now till the last day of 2022, you are free to not do anything or plan for anything or even go out with friends. Walking by yourself at Jurong Lake Garden after spending the whole afternoon with Nicole ytd felt memorable, but also lonely because of the awareness that I was the only person in the dark there and then. Still, there would be people passing by sporadically. Now I feel like I need the time to learn on my own terms while learning to enjoy life staying still. My confidence is back, so is my faith in life, along with the nostalgia. I would have to gently hold onto memories of Gwen and Nicole without letting the past overshadow my present. There are many goals I haven't yet achieved so I will have to resume working towards them.

When Nicole's tired, her auto pilot mode is so different from the usual her. I wish she would put in more effort to play table tennis with me or even let me know that she's jaywalking. I was surprised that she just crossed the road like that. I guessed since she's familiar with the place, she isn't as cautious. I was also surprised that Nicole's hand is aching. She should have asked me to hold onto the shoebag. Hope her bruises and ache will recover soon.

Nicole, I wonder how you feel about your life now? Have you found your peace and joy? While I may not be someone you can trust wholeheartedly, I know I have done my best already. I trust you wholeheartedly. Perhaps your trust lies in someone who is able to follow the rules. Just like Gwen, I can accept all that you are. You are funny, cute, easy-going, adventurous and reliable. Most importantly, you have a mature perspective. I just hope you don't always set yourself up for disappointment and be less paranoid over certain things even as I understand that these are things that may be beyond our individual control. I will always have your back, just like Arthur and Ekwhye. So please carry some hopeful expectations Nicole!

I want to live an ordinary life right now. Finding out Benji is travelling to turkey, I feel kinda envious on first instinct. When can I travel overseas? Yet am I ready to? I know that travelling isn't a magical panacea to getting me to grow as a person. All those experiences that I have accumulated so far, I am contented as they are. What I need more than anything is stillness, which has to start from home, in Singapore. My positive memories bag is full and I know I am in a much better situation than last year, at this time. So I am grateful and will stay grateful, come what may. It is enough.

Hong Kai, you are missing your gym session to type this down. Make it worth by making sure you start getting your house in order today. Come at me loneliness in the next few remaining days of 2021! I'll hold on to my hope with grace and kindness, so that I can become stronger in my mind, heart and body. To see with both my eyes and more importantly, my heart. Gwen, smileeee each day as the kingfishers come to see you and as you find solace in your friends, partner and family ~ Nicole, singg each day as you see the beauty in every single moment and as you do your best to live life kindly and joyfully~ I might not show it but I will hold you both equally dear to me! Forever and always. Embracing Love for myself, my fam and friends and this world,

Hong Kai Ps Guoxian's retirement plan is to be a bus driver. Somehow, it made me happy to hear that from him, knowing that it's borne out of his childhood interest.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Tuesday 29th December 2020

My Bird List Again. Parts 3 & 4

♦ outside links are indicated by bold type - none are affiliated to this blog

Guest Photograph - Two Jays out of the window in South London. I’m assured there were four but as is the way, two took off. Photo Credit: Ms NW tE

♦ Faces in Things. Now I’ve circled the Jays I can see a cartoon character with unruly hair. First thought was a cheeky Ostrich’s head, but Crow thinks he can see a cute Badger. Now I can see both.

Brought Forward 24 species

Yesterday I listed the every day birds in our garden and those we can guarantee to see most days, definitely every week, plus the new spots for this year. Next up is 

GARDEN REGULARS:

These are the birds we see frequently but not necessarily every day or this time of year

Song Thrush

If you followed my Blog earlier in the year you’ll recall the calamitous tale of ‘Tracey’ who tried to nest in our porch, firstly on the top of - and with some gentle encouragement, later inside - the open fronted nest box. We called her Tracey after the artist best known for her ‘messy bed’ Sadly the nest came to nothing except a very watchable experience, but we have seen youngsters who if not from Tracy, someone else got it right this year.

Song Thrush are seen here most weeks but we can’t depend on it being so. What I could depend on through early Spring was that one had taken over from the Blackbird and was giving me wakeup calls from the very early hours. It’s annoying to be disturbed so early, but also kind of comforting to have your regulars out there making their presence known.

Wren

Strangely for such a cute little bird I don’t have anything much to say, certainly no personal stories. They’re around, but very low key. I know them best for their upturned tail and unfeasibly loud voice. Sorry no photo, must rectify that, this one’s from the WildlifeTrusts.org site

Stock Dove

Of all the birds I’ve ever seen the Stock Dove is the biggest revelation to me. Until I had my eyes replaced I thought they were plain monotone grey birds. When I could see properly WOW WOW WOW. They have so many tones, they’re so beautiful and the pink, emerald-jade and purple hues are outstanding when they catch the sunshine. This realisation is one of the most incredible sights of my life and both that initial memory and every new viewing always will be.

Collared Dove

One of the above is not a Collared Dove - nope, not buying it even if you have got your best collar on mate

To be fair, I almost put the Stock and Collared Doves in the every day/reliable category, but on balance I don’t think they’re quite there at this time of year. We do see them most days and the charming Collared ones always come in pairs - just like me and Crow.

Green Woodpecker

My ant-eaters. Not seen on the same basis as the Great Spotteds but they live here and breed successfully. Quite stately birds with beautiful plumage I love to see the brief flash of yellow underwing as they whizz through the garden and to hear their laughing ‘yaffle’ 

Similar to GSWs you can tell the sex by the red or plain black colouring. In the Greens it’s on the ‘moustache’ area - see male above with red: females have black. On the GSs it’s plain black heads for females and a red patch at the nape of the neck for males.

Magpie

Comical birds. We seem to have less here than we did. The most I’ve ever seen was a huge flock on the Common in Tunbridge Wells. It’s called the Common but it has the main road going through it and where I saw them was no more than a large patch of grass and trees. The other side is more typical common land, steep and heath-like.

One year we were highly entertained by garden resident DJ (after DJ Spoony) so called as he created a cache of goodies gathered from around the garden much like a Bower Bird decorates its nest. DJ just kept his treasures amongst the leaves at the base of the palm and included a plastic spoon that we used to put out cat food for the hedgehogs...it took us a while to locate.

Common Buzzard

This photo is from the field now known as Babs’ Field directly across the lane from our house. It’s a big field so this is a very long zoom. We saw a huge Buzzard down the lane just yesterday actually. A lot of sightings recently.

Goldfinch

A standing joke in our house - so, so hard for me to capture a picture of them they tormented me and then all of a sudden this Summer they started coming into the garden more and I got photos on fences, verges and wires down the lane too.

Pied Wagtail

Has bred in the porch nest box years ago, had two successful broods. We watched them fledge down on to the log pile. Favourite nestling was The Bunter - guess why? Maybe that was the one who grew up to be The Inspector patrolling the seed and shooing everyone away just because he could.

Grey Wagtail

Usually flies in for a very quick drink and off again, or perches on the corner of the roof by our bedroom briefly.

Sparrowhawk

Nicknamed for both sexes is Sid (Vicious after the punk rock singer)

These two are males. We know their favourite places in the garden. On the fence between us and next door with an eye line to the feeders; on the posts around the decking, perched on a spade or on the bird bath.

Female below.

Total 11

INFREQUENT VISITORS:

Swallow 

All around the local area, once very welcome guests and residents in our front porch.

I also once found one in Ms NW tE’s bedroom and had absolutely no idea how it could’ve got there. This was long before the nesting. I assume it must’ve found a way under the eaves where there’s a fitted wardrobe built in. It wasn’t panicking at all.

Swift 

Sorry no picture, too high overhead. This one below courtesy of the Wildlife Trust site. Along with Swallows and Housemartins a lovely sign of Summer.

Greenfinch

 A very welcome returner this year and they bred, which is brilliant news

Juvenile

Bullfinch 

Sadly not seen any at all this year, which is unusual. Doesn’t mean they haven’t been and we’ve missed them though

Mistle Thrush

We have seen them, but no photos as yet. 

I can’t tell the difference between a Song and Mistle Thrush, I ask for an expert ID. The RSPB says Mistle Thrush are

Medium-sized birds, they’re our largest thrush Chunky and pot-bellied Tawny brown and grey backs with a creamy white speckled front Whiteish cheeks Bold and bullish

and their song is somewhere between Song Thrush and Blackbird. That said we seem to have some Song Thrush here whose songs have evolved (as they do) This might help, although I think in real life it’s less clear cut. I obviously need more practice. 

Jay

The Jay is so shy and has a fairly comical looking face. They live in the woods but we rarely see them in the garden and any photo is snatched very hurriedly, hence the quality of this one. They don’t need to come into the garden though as the woods are full of Oak trees and so their favourite food supply and places to cache it, is right there for them.

Kestrel

Usually seen up at the farm where we saw her a lot with her babies, this mother of two came into our garden in the Summer.

Common Gull

Rather unclear it was very low light inside the kitchen and this was grabbed with my phone. The last few days we have seen hundreds of Gulls: they’ve come inland to the fields due to the inclement weather I guess.

Nightingale 

Definitely heard and confirmed by our neighbour and the local farmer, however, I can’t hand on heart say I’ve spotted them by eye. I think they should be included here though as we more than likely have seen them as well as heard them. I know where they hang out for sure and it’s steps away (see below) The problem for me is that they’re quite insignificant looking if you’re not primed to spot one.

Photo credit Bird Guides on line

9

ONE OFFS IN THE GARDEN:

Mallard

 Two males and a female decided to reside in our garden one summer. We called them Max, Paddy and Holy Mary - a Phoenix Nights reference from the TV series.

Heron 

Occasionally seen overhead, has investigated our garden pond. Not that we’ve got any fish, which is why it probably hasn’t been back. We see them fly by sometimes and definitely up at the ponds. When the one was in our garden I was struck by its size and prehistoric look, of course they look much bigger in a domestic garden than when you see them in a wider setting.

Below is my own photo of a Heron, but at Richmond, not at our pond.

Turtle Dove

2006 was a good year. We had the Ducks and a few sightings of the Dove. I think it stopped by the following year too but can’t be absolutely sure.

Yellowhammer 2014

Just the once on the patio right in front of us, it was quite a surprise.

This is not actually my photo, which is mislaid for now. It’s generic so can’t attribute it.

Woodcock 2019

The Woodcock was a complete shock. I spotted something out of the side window and because of the colouring thought it was a strange female Pheasant, until I saw its bill. Wooaaah! 

5

ONE OFFS IN THE AREA:

Kingfisher down at the bridge

Mixed flock of Geese including White and Grey Lag - in Babs the Buzzard’s field

2

Sub Category just out of interest and not counted

REPORTED BY MY NEIGHBOUR:

Visual of a Cuckoo, which we’ve only heard and not seen for sure. We possibly saw one at the farm, but didn’t confirm for certain.

Goldcrest. I’m jealous

 + 2

REGULARS AT THE FARM:

Little Owl

White Dove

Coot

Moorhen

Canada Goose

Various Ducks such as Grebe, not including Mallard mentioned above

6+

TOTAL = 57+  species spotted at home and 2 others on the one off list seen adjacent to our garden.

Plus Tawny Owl, heard frequently but can’t promise to have a sighting as yet.

Decoration from the Christmas Trees in Standen Courtyard

a lovely hand stitched heart with wild flowers. Let’s hope the Roadside Verges campaign and sensible strimming season grows stronger next year.

Christmas Music of Choice is the Piano Guys

with a very clever Christmas medley and visuals

[johnboothus]

We Asked 15 Bartenders: Which Cask-Strength Bourbon Offers the Best Bang for Your Buck?

Cask-strength, also known as barrel-proof or barrel-strength bourbon, is high-proof whiskey — and it’s not for the faint of heart. Straight from the barrel, these bourbons are uncut and typically unfiltered, with no water added, resulting in intense, concentrated flavors — and high alcohol content, upwards of 55 percent ABV, and climbing as high as 80. But their appeal is not all about high-octane booze. Whiskey lovers seek out these bottles for their purity, which allows the ability to customize the proof by adding water or ice.

VinePair asked bartenders from coast to coast which well-priced whiskies they turn to when looking for bottles that pack a punch. Cost is relative when it comes to cask-strength, as this undiluted expression often demands a premium price. But, as these experts can attest, some bottles are worth springing for.

“Right now, I’d say the best ‘bang-for-your-buck’ cask-strength bourbon would be the Four Roses Private Selection Single Barrel. Four Roses releases a yearly cask-strength edition of their Small Batch, which can run you a pretty penny, but the Private Selection Single Barrel is an exclusive release for BevMo, personally selected by Jim Rutledge, master distiller for Four Roses Bourbon. At 56.1 percent ABV and right around $100 for a 750-milliliter bottle, it’s definitely one to snag while it lasts!” — Stephanie Reading, Bar Manager, Birdie G’s, Santa Monica, Calif.

“I think Stagg Jr. is the best bang for your buck for cask-strength. It’s a little more pricey than Knob Creek or Elijah Craig or Maker’s [Mark] Cask Strength, but it is so much better. It is well-balanced, has a beautiful finish, and packs just the right amount of heat. This bottle is for the connoisseur, either to use in high-end, at-home cocktails, or to sip on a cold night by the fire.” — Hannah Brunner, Bartender, Lost Lake, Chicago

“I am a big fan of Wild Turkey Rare Breed. It has a special place in my heart from when I managed a whiskey bar, and often drank pours while cleaning up the bar. It has such a creamy mouthfeel without being too hot or heavy.” — Tim Wiggins, Co-owner/Bar Manager, Yellowbelly and Retreat Gastropub, St. Louis

“Barrell Craft Spirits are in the ‘cask-strength’ business. It’s what they do. All of their limited-edition bourbons are totally pure, without chill filtration and at barrel strength, to bring you as close as possible to the experience of drinking from the cask. There’s an array to choose from, and all come in under $100, so you can pick one that hits all your preferences, or get a little adventurous!” — Maureen Shannon, Head Bartender, In the Valley, Philadelphia

“Smooth Ambler Old Scout Single Barrels have been popping up all over. The older, 10-plus-year-old single barrels are incredible, and the newer, 5-ish-year barrel-strength picks have been calling my name when I get home from a shift lately. [They’re] easy drinking for being high proof, and incredibly affordable, usually around $50 to $55.” — Zach Cable, Bar Manager, Leon’s Full Service, Decatur, Ga.

“Most of my favorite cask-strength bourbons are a bit pricey, so it’s hard to pin down a great ‘deal.’ That said, the Elijah Craig Barrel Proof is pretty hard to turn down. It’s relatively easy to find, and despite the high proof, it’s actually remarkably balanced. Oftentimes, a high-proof bourbon just ends up tasting like ethanol, especially cheaper options, but this one maintains the aromatic complexity that I want in a bourbon, and has quite a nice palate. It does pack quite a punch, though!” — Gavin Humes, Bartender, Scratch | Bar & Kitchen, Los Angeles

“Maker’s Mark Cask Strength is one of my favorite bang-for-your-buck, cask-strength bourbons. I like that the roundness of the wheated base of Maker’s is given more complexity by enhancing the oak and spice notes with its increased proof. I also love that Maker’s unique bottle design, with its hand-dipped wax top, was designed by a woman of whiskey, Margie Samuels, its co-founder. It’s reasonably priced, delicious, and has a wonderful story behind it.” — Crystal Chasse, Beverage Director, Talk Story Rooftop, McCarren Hotel, Brooklyn

“If you can find it, Weller Full Proof has been my favorite cask-strength release of the past several years. When you take the typical Weller flavor profile of green apple or honey and concentrate it, it begins to take on these delightful cherry and medicinal notes [of] anise or mint. The wheat content makes this far softer than most cask-strength releases on the market, so this is a delight to sip straight out of the bottle. Add ice if you please, but only a few drops of water are necessary.” — Andrew Nichols, Head of Mixology, Atlas Restaurant Group, Baltimore

“Elijah Craig Barrel Proof is one of my absolute favorite bourbons, regardless of price. It has a robust nose of caramel and oak, and the finish is spicy and sweet. It also has the unique ability to be cask-strength [without] letting the ethanol shine through — I think mostly due to aging it 12 years.” — Sean Umstead, Owner, Kingfisher and QueenBurger, Durham, N.C.

“If I’m going to pick a bang-for-your-buck, barrel-strength bourbon, I would say Larceny’s Barrel Proof. It’s wheated and offers toasty bready notes with some cinnamon on the nose. On the tongue, it won’t dry you out and has cherry [and] vanilla hints. It drinks easy for a barrel-proof.” — Gregory Huston, Lead Bartender, Elm & Good, Dallas

“Cask-strength bourbons wear their hearts on their sleeves, leaving no flavor to the imagination. I keep going back to Kings County Barrel Strength Bourbon for its truly powerful and seemingly endless string of palate-tickling deliciousness. Dried cherry, dried cranberry, and roasted chestnuts on the nose melt into a palate of ripe fig, black plum, walnut, and Madagascar vanilla. The price is under $100, but they offer multiple bottle sizes, so you can adjust to your budget and snag it for a tasting.” — Jeremy Fowler, Wine and Beverage Director, Zuma, NYC

“I’m going to fudge the rules a little bit on this question, but I think it’ll be OK. My favorite cask-strength bourbon is the Angel’s Envy Cask Strength, which is finished in lovely port barrels and comes in a gorgeous wooden box but sets you back a couple hundred bucks. So while I love it, I don’t suppose it qualifies for the ‘bang-for-your-buck’ category. Not many great cask-strength bourbons do. But one that I love for its high-rye mash bill and have utilized behind the bar for years is Old Grand-Dad 114 — technically not cask-strength, as it is slightly diluted for consistency’s sake, but it’s very high-proof nonetheless and clocks in at around $30. You really can’t beat that in the high-proof category.” — Kristel Poole, General Manager, Corpse Reviver Cocktail Bar, Durham, N.C.

“Personally, I choose Laws as my favorite bang for your buck cask-strength bourbon. Why? Well, it’s delicious, with wonderful notes of vanilla, leather, caramel, and so many other flavors and aromas I search for in a great bourbon. But what you can’t find in most other bourbon is the care and effort the team at Laws puts in. [They’re] a team of dedicated people, doing things the right way, with the right ingredients, making something that is one of my favorite bourbons around. You can replicate flavor, but you can’t replicate hard work and the time it takes to make something special.” — Joseph Shirghio, General Manager and Master Mixologist, Bowen House, Dallas

“Elijah Craig Barrel Proof. I love the pronounced fruit and caramel flavors with a nutty finish that lend themselves nicely to stirred classics. This is a must-have for someone who is looking for a full-flavored, rounder bourbon. It’s rare to see an unallocated bourbon with over 10 years of age at an everyday, mid-shelf price.” — Pete Stanton, Head Bartender, Ai Fiori at The Langham, NYC

“For barrel-proof bourbon, I really like Wild Turkey Rare Breed. It’s got some really complex notes on the nose — anise, burnt sugar, and rye spice — and the higher proof really lengthens and extends the complex palate.” — Laura Newman, Owner, Queen’s Park, Birmingham, Ala.

The article We Asked 15 Bartenders: Which Cask-Strength Bourbon Offers the Best Bang for Your Buck? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/15-best-quality-cask-strength-bourbon-brands-price/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/we-asked-15-bartenders-which-cask-strength-bourbon-offers-the-best-bang-for-your-buck

[dansnaturepictures]

Species Appreciation Post: One of my favourite birds the Jay-I got very passionate and nostalgic writing this one, I think what I have to say here indicates how nature is ingrained within me

After taking the 7th and final picture in this photoset of a Jay at Lakeside this morning with time on my hands throughout the day I decided to do another extra post about the Jay one of my species appreciation ones. This post has become my go to activity when I do have a bit of time on my hands since I started them in 2015 and they really serve the purpose I hope of delving a little deeper into my wildlife watching and photography and pick apart what I like about certain species. For when I do them about favourite bird species of mine particularly ones like the Jay that have been on my list of favourite birds for a long time, it also serves the purpose to remind me and really pick apart what it is I love about a bird species so much. 

So the Jay is one of those true favourite birds of mine in that they’re such a common species that some might question why they’re on my list of 24 favourite birds, yet I see a beauty in them and things that doesn’t make them ordinary at all for me. So basically what I do really like about them is their striking colour and appearance and the fact it was a bird I was familiar with before I even saw it. The Jay for me sums up that era in my early birdwatching when I couldn’t keep my nose out of bird books as birds became my thing and my hobby, paving the way for all wildlife and the photography interest as I often say. This era at a time when I couldn’t birdwatch as extensively with school and often only one weekend afternoon would be myself and my mother��s birdwatching time unlike now where its always both weekend days we go out with the rather more lively dogs we have now than our Sally the old Black Labrador we lost in 2008 but I digress. 

I look back on the Jay as a bird I aspired towards seeing, perhaps as much as the seabirds, Osprey and Kingfisher amongst my favourite birds looking back. I still remember the moment in 2007 at perhaps our second ever reserve visit to Titchfield Haven the first reserve I went to also when I saw the Jay fly up onto a branch and into view beside us in a hide. I had not seen many of my now 248 strong birds in my life at that point obviously and I think Cormorant, Great Black Backed Gull and Little Grebe were also life ticks for me that day which really is saying something about how early it was but none gave off quite a spark as the Jay. This first ever sighting was not too far away from where I got the 5th picture in this photoset of a Jay at Titchfield Haven in 2015. Titchfield and the Jay have quite the association for me so much so that I always listen to music in our car journeys to places and I have called the playlist which I listen to when we go to the east of Hampshire on the coast the Jaylist. It was originally called Farlington and Titchfield but I decided to change the names when Titchfield Haven and Farlington Marshes really weren’t the only places we went to down that way and it was an honour to name it afte r a bird so precious to me. 

Whilst I love a good Raven or Chough when I see one and both have been big parts of my birdwatching year in 2017 being in my list of 24 favourite birds automatically makes the Jay my favourite crow and that’s another reason why I love it. I am a positive person and always like to see light rather than dark in every situation and the Jay is a very bright bird from a typically dark family. So and I am literally having this thought for the very first time as I write this maybe the Jay is the bird that sums my personality up best. I remember going back to the basic early birdwatching days again when I learnt all the crows I had similar feelings about the Magpie and was enthused as a nine or ten year old going round telling everybody “did you know Magpies are crows?”. I really liked Magpies early on but unfortunately like many they are just too common a bird to keep me really excited by them going forward. So the Jay sort of took that baton on as the different looking crow I have admired and its remained one of the most exciting birds to see for me. 

I also think my admiration for the Jay is because they are such successful and hardy and feisty birds with a great call. I think they are also a key part of British landscape and culture with how they cash the acorns and then don’t come back to them leading to legendary oak trees growing. Lastly in terms of them being one of my favourite birds they are one I can see year round and always are a good bet to be the first of my favourite birds I see in a year as I did in 2013 and 2015. With my list of favourite birds some are a rare treat to see for me like the Puffin and then you have the Jays, Little Egrets, Great Crested Grebes etc which you can see any when. I said to someone on Twitter recently that this helps me develop just as intimate a connection with favourite birds I can see often and close and if not builds even more intimate relationships. 

The other Jay shots of mine from over the years in this photoset are are at (1-4) Blashford Lakes in 2011 and 2012, RSPB Pulborough Brooks in Sussex in 2013 and at Blashford Lakes again a few weeks after that and in the 6th picture in this photoset at Stoke Park Woods a really good spot for them last year.

[lewishamledger]

Community chroniclers

Local blogs can be treasure troves of information for residents and often publish stories that larger outlets can't or won't cover. Here are four must-read blogs that we have bookmarked...

WORDS BY HELEN GRAVES

Blogger Jane Martin began writing about her local area – specifically Crofton Park and Honor Oak – in 2012. 

Working from home, she was able to “use lots of local independent businesses” for lunch and coffee. “I began to realise there were very few people in the area who knew and used our cafes, bars and shops more than me,” she says. She posted on the now defunct croftonpark.com before moving to the HopCroft community website, where she publishes four lengthy blogs a year on “key happenings and events”, keeping her thousands of followers up-to-date in the interim via her Twitter account @JaneCanDoSE4. She has since expanded her remit to include Brockley, Ladywell, Catford, Deptford and Hither Green, and doesn’t hold back on the detail, joking: “My ramblings are at least 6,000 words and often over 8,000 words. I always joke that you deserve a medal if you read to the end.” She’s closely involved with the community and is something of a local legend, working hard to help businesses and other endeavours gain momentum. “I passionately love south-east London and love spending time at local events and festivals. I now know so many people in the area and think we are very lucky living in such a creative, friendly part of London.” Jane has seen businesses come and go since starting her blog. “Crofton Park has seen a slight decline in the last year, with the wonderful Mr Lawrence wine bar shutting a year ago and then Jam Circus closing at the beginning of [this] year,” she says. “There are now quite a number of empty shop units on the high street but I am hopeful that new businesses are going to open up again soon. “I feel very lucky that I live only five minutes’ walk from two very special places. The Brockley Jack pub is a great community bar that is also home to the wonderful Brockley Jack Theatre. The high street is also home to the Rivoli Ballroom, which is just beautiful. Over the years I have been to so many different things there – parties, discos, films and so on – and it is such a special place. I am really looking forward to celebrating my 60th birthday there later this year.” 

hopcroftneighbourhood.org.uk/ crofton-column

Paul Browning has lived in Lee for nearly 30 years and writes Running Past, a history blog with a particular focus on Lee, Hither Green, Catford, Lewisham and Blackheath. 

“It looks at how the past has influenced the current urban landscape, whether it be former farms; the large country houses of Lee, several with links to slavery; wartime bomb damage or postwar development; and at the bits of the past that remain,” he says. “Sometimes I go a little further afield, particularly when tracing the rivers and streams of the area.” He also looks at places where “ordinary people came together – the churches, the pubs, the clubs, the schools and the shops. During 2018, I celebrated the centenary of some women getting the vote with a series of posts on Lewisham’s militant suffragettes – a group of women that I am completely in awe of.” Paul was motivated to start writing after enjoying other local blogs, and thought he could add to the conversation by covering topics they didn’t, in an easily digestible format. “The posts tend to be in bite-sized chunks – 10 minutes’ read at most. It works for me in terms of writing and it seems to work for readers too; it is local history for the age of social media.” Facebook and Twitter allow him to interact with his audience, who in turn, often inform his posts. “The writing has become quite an iterative process, in a way that wasn’t available to past local historians,” he says. “A post I wrote for the 60th anniversary of the 1957 Lewisham rail crash is substantially different from the one first published, bringing in lots of recollections, some first-hand, some from relatives. It is so much better for that input.” Paul has seen the area change a lot, including “big changes” to Lewisham town centre in terms of architecture, which he describes as a failure “on all counts... a rag-bag of styles which don’t seem to really fit together at all”. He also laments the “austerity-led public expenditure cuts and the impact on the cleanliness of streets and parks”, adding: “There have been massive cuts too to council services across the board that a 63% reduction in central government grant funding to Lewisham makes inevitable. I feel really sorry for the current group of Labour councillors trying to keep services going without the resources to do it.” He has seen positive developments too, including the “naturalisation of the Quaggy through Manor Park through the Quaggy Waterways Action Group and others, turning one of the most depressing parks in the borough into one of the finest. It has led to a significant increase in biodiversity there – with the iridescent blue blur of the kingfisher often visible.” He adds: “I love Lewisham, it’s been my adopted home for the best part of 30 years. I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.”

runner500.wordpress.com

Darryl Chamberlain started his blog – 853 – as a way to express his frustrations about local developments. 

“I was brought up in Greenwich and found some of what was going on after the millennium didn’t really shape up to the promises that had been made before then,” he explains. “One of my early inspirations was a Lewisham councillor called Andrew Brown, who represented Blackheath for Labour and used a blog to keep people up to speed with local issues. Another Lewisham councillor, Sue Luxton, did the same – she was a Green councillor in Ladywell. “There was a really vibrant local blogging scene in Lewisham about 10 years ago – Brockley Central and Transpontine were in their pomp then. Twitter and Facebook have sucked up nearly all of the information and creativity you used to get in local blogs, and that’s a real shame.” Darryl has always been very involved in the community. “I had a crackers plan to help my local area by joining a political party and standing in a Greenwich council election. One night I went to a council meeting to see how it all worked, and was horrified by how a resident was treated in that meeting. I also noticed there were no journalists covering the meeting. “Once I lost the election, I used the contacts I built up during that time to start digging into what was going on at the council. There was a lot of bullying going on in Greenwich council at the time, and this was when it did stupid things like cutting the funding for Blackheath fireworks, which had nothing to do with austerity as they were still spending money on their own private events. So it was an interesting time.” Many of the stories he writes are related to current changes, which are “undoubtedly gentrification and austerity – we’ll still be dealing with those in the decade to come. “New transport options and the expansion of Canary Wharf meant the area was changing anyway, but how a massive project like Lewisham Gateway – which will change the area forever – managed to get through with so little scrutiny should worry everybody. “I’m reassured that Deptford seems resilient in the face of so much change. I think what will happen with Catford in the years ahead will be very interesting.” Is he concerned for the future? “[It’s] very hard to say with all the wider turmoil, but the key will be if the Bakerloo line is extended – and how far it’s extended. A full extension through to Hayes would be a dramatic and positive change – just going to Lewisham will leave the rest of the borough behind. No extension would be very bad news indeed.” 

853london.com

From The Murky Depths is a blog whose creator prefers to remain anonymous due to their contacts with people working for local authorities. It started life “primarily as a blog about new development and housing in Greenwich” and has since expanded to cover “much of south-east London and parts of east London and Kent”, going “beyond to cover politics, transport, schools, hospitals and more”. Like others, From The Murky Depths has seen many changes in south-east London over the years and says “a lot has improved”, adding: “It’s easy to forget how cut off it could sometimes feel and how limited options were. The DLR extensions, London Overground and even Southeastern have all become better. Stations like Deptford get a better service than 10 years ago. “Unfortunately some councils are often stuck way in the past. [They] are too parochial and not as forward-thinking as others in London and the UK. “There’s still massive potential in areas like Abbey Wood, Plumstead, Woolwich and... authorities [are] stuck in the 1980s when it comes to embracing change and urban design. So much could be done for small amounts and by seeing and embracing good examples elsewhere. “Greenwich could use far more income from new developments to encourage walking and get people out of cars for short trips, along with investment in parks. [Recently] I’ve written about how they spend the least of any Labour council I looked into and could find comparable data on.” One thing’s for certain: south-east London is an area that never sits still. “Every trip to Greenwich or Woolwich reveals a dynamic area in flux. There are loads of nice places to eat now, new pubs by the river are opening [where you can] enjoy a riverside drink and there’s always new homes and developments going up. Like them or loathe them, it’s interesting to see changes and the views are constantly evolving. Looking out from Greenwich Park is fascinating.” 

fromthemurkydepths.co.uk

[networkingdefinition]

Dragonfly Quotes

Official Website: Dragonfly Quotes

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• And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world-never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness. – Clive Barker • Anyone can buy a car or a night on the town. Most of us shell our days like peanuts. One in a thousand can look at the world with amazement. I don’t mean gawking at the Chrysler Building. I’m talking about the wing of a dragonfly. The tale of the shoeshine. Walking through an unsullied hour with an unsullied heart – Amor Towles • As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame – Gerard Manley Hopkins

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'dragonfly', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_dragonfly').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_dragonfly img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Clouds of insects danced and buzzed in the golden autumn light, and the air was full of the piping of the song-birds. Long, glinting dragonflies shot across the path, or hung tremulous with gauzy wings and gleaming bodies. – Arthur Conan Doyle • Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly. Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky. – Dante Gabriel Rossetti • Go to sleep, baby,Mama will sing. Of blue butterflies, and dragonfly wings. Moonlight and sunbeams, raiments so fine. Silver and gold, for baby of mine. Go to sleep, baby. Sister will tell, of wolves and of lambs, and demons who fell.-Pierce’s Lullaby Kim Harrison (Black Magic Sanction) – Kim Harrison • He was becoming unstuck, he was sure of that – his bones were no longer wrapped in flesh but in clouds of dust, in hummingbirds, dragonflies, and luminous moths – but so perfect was his equilibrium that he felt no fear. He was vast, he was many, he was dynamic, he was eternal. – Tom Robbins • I got to keep a clip for my hair. It had a pretty little dragonfly on it and I got to keep it – Mackenzie Foy • I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty – flowers, seashells, dragonflies – have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession. – Ellen Hopkins • If you are old and you wish to be young again, if only for a moment, try and identify a dragonfly. – Simon Barnes • I’ll be looking for you, Will, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you… We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams… And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they wont’ just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight. – Philip Pullman • It’s very far away/It takes about a half a day to get there/ If we travel by-dragonfly. – Jimi Hendrix • Perhaps everything lies in knowing what words to speak, what actions to perform, and in what order and rhythm; or else someone’s gaze, answer, gesture is enough; it is enough for someone to do something for the sheer pleasure of doing it, and for his pleasure to become the pleasure of others: at that moment, all spaces change, all heights, distances; the city is transfigured, becomes crystalline, transparent as a dragonfly. – Italo Calvino • Question four: What book would you give to every child? Answer: I wouldn’t give them a book. Books are part of the problem: this strange belief that a tree has nothing to say until it is murdered, its flesh pulped, and then (human) people stain this flesh with words. I would take children outside and put them face to face with chipmunks, dragonflies, tadpoles, hummingbirds, stones, rivers, trees, crawdads. That said, if you’re going to force me to give them a book, it would be The Wind In The Willows, which I hope would remind them to go outside. – Derrick Jensen • Reflected in the dragonfly’s eye — mountains. – Kobayashi Issa • Sitting on the floor of a room in Japan, looking out on a small garden with flowers blooming and dragonflies hovering in space, I suddenly felt as if I had been too long above my boots. – Mark Tobey • Smile / to see the lake / lay / the still sky / And / out for an easy / make / the dragonfly. – Lorine Niedecker • So, that was Nature’s way. The mosquito felt pain and panic but the dragonfly knew nothing of cruelty. Humans would call it evil, the big dragonfly destroying the mosquito and ignoring the little insects suffering. Yet humans hated mosquitoes too, calling them vicious and bloodthirsty. All these words, words like ‘evil’ and ‘vicious’, they meant nothing to Nature. Yes, evil was a human invention. – John Marsden • Sophia and Grandmother sat down by the shore to discuss the matter further. It was a pretty day, and the sea was running a long, windless swell. It was on days just like this–dog days–that boats went sailing off all by themselves. Large, alien objects made their way in from sea, certain things sank and others rose, milk soured, and dragonflies danced in desperation. Lizards were not afraid. When the moon came up, red spiders mated on uninhabited skerries, where the rock became an unbroken carpet of tiny, ecstatic spiders. – Tove Jansson • The beauteous dragonfly’s dancing By the waves of the rivulet glancing; She dances here and she dances there, The glimmering, glittering flutterer fair. Full many a beetle with loud applause Admires her dress of azure gauze, Admires her body’s bright splendour, And also her figure so slender… – Heinrich Heine • The girls chirped and chatted like uncaged warblers. They were delirious with joy… Intoxications of life’s morning! Enchanted years! The wing of a dragonfly trembles! Oh, reader, whoever you may be, do you have such memories? Have you walked in the underbrush, pushing aside branches for the charming head behind you? Have you slid laughing, down some slope wet with rain, with the woman you loved? – Victor Hugo • The point of the dragonfly’s terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows,is not that it all fits together like clockwork–for it doesn’tbut that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world’s water and weather, the world’s nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz. – Annie Dillard • Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky. – Janet Fitch • This dragonfly came up to me. He was hovering right in front of my face, and I was really examining him, thinking, How does he see me? I became enlightened. – Ziggy Marley • Time is for dragonflies and angels. The former live too little and the latter live too long. – James Thurber • Twisting through the thorn-thick underbrush, scratched and exhausted, one turns suddenly to find an unexpected waterfall, not half a mile from the nearest road, a spot so hard to reach that no one comes a hiding place, a shrine for dragonflies and nesting jays, a sign that there is still one piece of property that won’t be owned. – Dana Gioia • Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks. The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separated from his mother’s milk for the very first time. –from poem Blood and Blossoms – Aberjhani • Who would deduce the dragonfly from the larva, the iris from the bud, the lawyer from the infant? …We are all shape-shifters and magical reinventors. Life is really a plural noun, a caravan of selves. – Diane Ackerman • Whoever the kid had been, whoever had the grand attitude, has finally heeded the admonishment of parents, teachers, governments, religions, and the law: “You just change your attitude now please, young man.” This transformation in kids – from flashing dragonflies, so to say, to sticky water-surface worms slowly slipping downstream – is noticed with pride by society and with mortification by God, which is a fantastic way of saying I don’t like to see kids throw away their truth just because it isn’t worth a dime in the open market. – William Saroyan • Without constraint, without any form of mental compulsion, the act of belief becomes the freest possible projection of what resides in our hearts. Like the poet’s image of a church bell that reveals its latent music only when struck, or a dragonfly that flames forth its beauty only in flight, so does the content of a human heart lie buried until action calls it forth. The greatest act of self-revelation occurs when we choose what we will believe, in that space of freedom that exists between knowing that a thing is and knowing that a thing is not. – Terryl L. Givens • Yesterday a child came out to wonder. Caught a dragonfly inside a jar. Fearful when the sky was full of thunder. And tearful at the falling of a star – Joni Mitchell

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[equitiesstocks]

Dragonfly Quotes

Official Website: Dragonfly Quotes

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• And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world-never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness. – Clive Barker • Anyone can buy a car or a night on the town. Most of us shell our days like peanuts. One in a thousand can look at the world with amazement. I don’t mean gawking at the Chrysler Building. I’m talking about the wing of a dragonfly. The tale of the shoeshine. Walking through an unsullied hour with an unsullied heart – Amor Towles • As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame – Gerard Manley Hopkins

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'dragonfly', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_dragonfly').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_dragonfly img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Clouds of insects danced and buzzed in the golden autumn light, and the air was full of the piping of the song-birds. Long, glinting dragonflies shot across the path, or hung tremulous with gauzy wings and gleaming bodies. – Arthur Conan Doyle • Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly. Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky. – Dante Gabriel Rossetti • Go to sleep, baby,Mama will sing. Of blue butterflies, and dragonfly wings. Moonlight and sunbeams, raiments so fine. Silver and gold, for baby of mine. Go to sleep, baby. Sister will tell, of wolves and of lambs, and demons who fell.-Pierce’s Lullaby Kim Harrison (Black Magic Sanction) – Kim Harrison • He was becoming unstuck, he was sure of that – his bones were no longer wrapped in flesh but in clouds of dust, in hummingbirds, dragonflies, and luminous moths – but so perfect was his equilibrium that he felt no fear. He was vast, he was many, he was dynamic, he was eternal. – Tom Robbins • I got to keep a clip for my hair. It had a pretty little dragonfly on it and I got to keep it – Mackenzie Foy • I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty – flowers, seashells, dragonflies – have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession. – Ellen Hopkins • If you are old and you wish to be young again, if only for a moment, try and identify a dragonfly. – Simon Barnes • I’ll be looking for you, Will, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you… We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams… And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they wont’ just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight. – Philip Pullman • It’s very far away/It takes about a half a day to get there/ If we travel by-dragonfly. – Jimi Hendrix • Perhaps everything lies in knowing what words to speak, what actions to perform, and in what order and rhythm; or else someone’s gaze, answer, gesture is enough; it is enough for someone to do something for the sheer pleasure of doing it, and for his pleasure to become the pleasure of others: at that moment, all spaces change, all heights, distances; the city is transfigured, becomes crystalline, transparent as a dragonfly. – Italo Calvino • Question four: What book would you give to every child? Answer: I wouldn’t give them a book. Books are part of the problem: this strange belief that a tree has nothing to say until it is murdered, its flesh pulped, and then (human) people stain this flesh with words. I would take children outside and put them face to face with chipmunks, dragonflies, tadpoles, hummingbirds, stones, rivers, trees, crawdads. That said, if you’re going to force me to give them a book, it would be The Wind In The Willows, which I hope would remind them to go outside. – Derrick Jensen • Reflected in the dragonfly’s eye — mountains. – Kobayashi Issa • Sitting on the floor of a room in Japan, looking out on a small garden with flowers blooming and dragonflies hovering in space, I suddenly felt as if I had been too long above my boots. – Mark Tobey • Smile / to see the lake / lay / the still sky / And / out for an easy / make / the dragonfly. – Lorine Niedecker • So, that was Nature’s way. The mosquito felt pain and panic but the dragonfly knew nothing of cruelty. Humans would call it evil, the big dragonfly destroying the mosquito and ignoring the little insects suffering. Yet humans hated mosquitoes too, calling them vicious and bloodthirsty. All these words, words like ‘evil’ and ‘vicious’, they meant nothing to Nature. Yes, evil was a human invention. – John Marsden • Sophia and Grandmother sat down by the shore to discuss the matter further. It was a pretty day, and the sea was running a long, windless swell. It was on days just like this–dog days–that boats went sailing off all by themselves. Large, alien objects made their way in from sea, certain things sank and others rose, milk soured, and dragonflies danced in desperation. Lizards were not afraid. When the moon came up, red spiders mated on uninhabited skerries, where the rock became an unbroken carpet of tiny, ecstatic spiders. – Tove Jansson • The beauteous dragonfly’s dancing By the waves of the rivulet glancing; She dances here and she dances there, The glimmering, glittering flutterer fair. Full many a beetle with loud applause Admires her dress of azure gauze, Admires her body’s bright splendour, And also her figure so slender… – Heinrich Heine • The girls chirped and chatted like uncaged warblers. They were delirious with joy… Intoxications of life’s morning! Enchanted years! The wing of a dragonfly trembles! Oh, reader, whoever you may be, do you have such memories? Have you walked in the underbrush, pushing aside branches for the charming head behind you? Have you slid laughing, down some slope wet with rain, with the woman you loved? – Victor Hugo • The point of the dragonfly’s terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows,is not that it all fits together like clockwork–for it doesn’tbut that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world’s water and weather, the world’s nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz. – Annie Dillard • Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky. – Janet Fitch • This dragonfly came up to me. He was hovering right in front of my face, and I was really examining him, thinking, How does he see me? I became enlightened. – Ziggy Marley • Time is for dragonflies and angels. The former live too little and the latter live too long. – James Thurber • Twisting through the thorn-thick underbrush, scratched and exhausted, one turns suddenly to find an unexpected waterfall, not half a mile from the nearest road, a spot so hard to reach that no one comes a hiding place, a shrine for dragonflies and nesting jays, a sign that there is still one piece of property that won’t be owned. – Dana Gioia • Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks. The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separated from his mother’s milk for the very first time. –from poem Blood and Blossoms – Aberjhani • Who would deduce the dragonfly from the larva, the iris from the bud, the lawyer from the infant? …We are all shape-shifters and magical reinventors. Life is really a plural noun, a caravan of selves. – Diane Ackerman • Whoever the kid had been, whoever had the grand attitude, has finally heeded the admonishment of parents, teachers, governments, religions, and the law: “You just change your attitude now please, young man.” This transformation in kids – from flashing dragonflies, so to say, to sticky water-surface worms slowly slipping downstream – is noticed with pride by society and with mortification by God, which is a fantastic way of saying I don’t like to see kids throw away their truth just because it isn’t worth a dime in the open market. – William Saroyan • Without constraint, without any form of mental compulsion, the act of belief becomes the freest possible projection of what resides in our hearts. Like the poet’s image of a church bell that reveals its latent music only when struck, or a dragonfly that flames forth its beauty only in flight, so does the content of a human heart lie buried until action calls it forth. The greatest act of self-revelation occurs when we choose what we will believe, in that space of freedom that exists between knowing that a thing is and knowing that a thing is not. – Terryl L. Givens • Yesterday a child came out to wonder. Caught a dragonfly inside a jar. Fearful when the sky was full of thunder. And tearful at the falling of a star – Joni Mitchell

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[dansnaturepictures]

My 10 Wildlife/Photography highlights of 2018: Blog 3-Experiences with my favourite birds this year including the Durlston visit

Yesterday I examined what another amazing year of seeing and photographing wild birds I have had and I further explore that here as every year birds from a special group of twenty four for me give me some of my most splendid memories. On my list of twenty four favourite birds are ones I’ve always loved and dreamt of seeing, species that captivated me right from the beginning of my birding days helping form a solid structural spine to my hobby, birds I have just grown to love over time and ones perhaps a memorable picture of one paved the way to me loving them. The beauty of having so many favourite birds is that I might not see them all every year so different ones tend to shine in different years.

A Jay over Lakeside on New Year’s Day was my first favourite bird seen this year and just two year ticks later the Great Crested Grebe was seen too and the Great Spotted Woodpecker at Denny Wood in the New Forest later in the day would be my third favourite bird seen this year. The Green Woodpecker would go onto be a year tick at Lakeside too a month and three days later, but with a lot of Green Woodpecker habitats visited it kept me waiting quite a while to see it especially compared to previous years so it was all the sweeter when I spotted it. The start of the year brought me many top moments with favourite birds of mine, Dipper as my 90th bird of the year and Guillemot as my 110th were wonderful birds to see as part of my incredible Scotland trip. The trip as I’ve said was my present for my 21st birthday and on my birthday at Pennington and Lymington as well as favourite birds of mine Brent Goose and Shelduck seeing my first Kingfisher of the year was very special as I saw one on my 18th birthday at Lower Test too so it’s just wonderful to have a bird I adore and always have so much be part of two very important days of my life.

Towards the end of February and going into March Brent Goose and Kingfisher would provide me with some of my most memorable favourite bird experiences this year. One Saturday and another two weeks later I went to Farlington Marshes where I first fell in love with Brent Geese all those years ago, and as they prepared for migration it was sensational to see massive flocks of them fly over our heads. It’s just a fantastic natural spectacle, as shown in the 1st picture in this photoset which I took on the second of these trips, it’s a moment you just have to stop, look at and admire and the noises they make are brilliant. On top of this it was the times they flew over our heads early in our birdwatching at Farlington which is why I became so in aw of them and fell in love with them in the first place so it’s always lovely to enjoy this again and it really stood out this year. I also took the 2nd picture in this photoset of one sitting down on the first of these two trips.

The day after the first visit we went to a sunny Blandford Forum in Dorset which is famous for its Kingfishers among other things on this stretch of the River Stour, and this favourite bird of mine did not disappoint. We saw them on four separate occasions that afternoon getting very close and witnessing a couple diving. In the sun even more I just really appreciated their sheer beauty so much and it’s such a fantastic memory. I took the 3rd picture in this photoset of one on the day. The next Dorset trip and Dorset trips often feature heavily in this post came on a memorable Easter Weekend when I had a wonderfully wildlife filled Sunday at Weymouth’s Radipole Lake and nearby Portland Bill. Gannet was one of five year ticks on the day and a star at Portland Bill. Also notable that whole big weekend of the year for me for favourite birds is that I saw about five or six Buzzards from the car along the motorway on the way to places that weekend which I found quite something. A couple of weeks later in a close encounter with two Buzzards at Martin Down where I got the 3rd picture in this photoset I was reminded that a key attribute that makes me love them is their scale. Earlier at Radipole I got to really enjoy lots of Pochards close up by the bridge and centre one shown in the 4th picture in this phototset.

The next Dorset visit we made was an annual one which got its own highlights post the last two years as its always a big day for us in a year and that’s mostly because of experiences with my favourite birds, visiting Durlston Country Park which we did on the 22nd April. Favourite birds dominated once again with nice views of another Gannet and lots more Guillemots, one of these was bridled which I’ve never seen before so that was interesting. But as is often the case at Durlston one of my favourite birds the Fulmar a year tick on the day stole the show in another massive highlight of my whole year. I always marvel at Fulmars on this trip because there is no place like Durlston I know for seeing them up close. We would go onto notice walking beside the cliffs that there seemed to be lots of Fulmars around this year. Furthermore this year they seemed to fly much higher up the cliffs close to where we were standing where only gulls usually venture allowing us fantastic close views and I was in wonder at a fantastic natural sight as they swerved beside us beautifully once more. I took the 6th picture in this photoset of one flying. I even saw one sitting on the cliff which I never have up close at least here before, as shown in the 7th picture in this photoset. I think I had my best Durlston visit yet for Fulmar pictures which has been a constant within the visits, with more taken than ever on the day and I was very happy with them all. The flight one in particular in this photoset could be my best Fulmar picture yet a bird I have really come on with for taking pictures of since 2013 thanks much to Durlston. At the time it was taken it joined a great stock of pictures I really liked that I had taken of my favourite birds this year alongside Brent Goose, Buzzard, Pochard and more. In another Dorset visit on the first May Bank Holiday Sunday this time back to Portland I saw a Razorbill to keep the record of big favourite bird moments in Dorset trips going.

I was lucky enough to encounter again this year the Cuckoo hearing my first of the spring at Pig Bush in the New Forest such a strong location for them in April, and I went on to hear a few more. A moment that stood out was at Martin Down in May when I heard two calling and one was in the bush right beside me which was just magical. Two days later on late May Bank Holiday Monday and I would step closer and closer to seeing this bird hearing one on Eyeworth Pond in the New Forest’s heath before eventually seeing it and hearing and seeing it a handful more times on that day which was just a stunning natural experience to have again. At the end of that week I visited Thursley Common in Surrey and was lucky enough to see the famous Colin the Cuckoo too. But what stood out was hearing this bird fantastically close and I remarked at how I usually hear them from far away and other sounds non-natural and natural obscure the sound but in these three days this year I heard the sound at its purest which made it more beautiful.

On the rather hot early June Sunday that followed the Thursley visit at Hill Head I was very excited to see one of my favourite birds the Shelduck with seven adorable chicks close by in the harbour, the adult shown in the 8th picture in this photoset. This was yet another of my top wildlife pictures in my opinion of a favourite bird of mine this year joining my other favourite duck Pochard and more. I wondered that evening if my first picture of any kind of 2018 being of a Great Crested Grebe at Lakeside had set the tone for 2018 to follow 2016 as a year with many standout pictures of many of my favourite birds. I felt I had been striving to get another Shelduck picture I was really happy with since 2012 when Slimbridge and Llanelli WWT shots of them dominated my photography year and this year I was so keen to get this picture and this achieved it for me. Along with a Buzzard I photographed along the nearby Titchfield canal path earlier on this day and yet another calling Cuckoo this clocking it up to the seventh different location I’d heard and/or seen one this year at the time it became a bit of a day of favourite birds.

Our Yorkshire coast visit in June to Bempton Cliffs where I took the Gannet picture in the 9th picture in this photoset and the area brought amazing views of year ticks at Flamborough North Landing on the first night there Puffin and Kittiwake in harmony with Gannet, Fulmar, Razorbill and Guillemot. It was an amazing week posted about in my 8th highlights post in this set where I also saw another Dipper so I won’t say too much about it but I just wanted to include this sentiment here.

A favourite bird of mine I struggled to see this year was Sedge Warbler not seeing one for well into the summer after a few years of not really seeing them clearly or for long. But as I walked alongside the River Itchen at Shawford I spotted one flitting about in the reeds which was another blink and you’ll miss it sighting but an ID standard camera shot of it just flying off allowed me to pick out all the markings and I felt a memorable element of increased recognition of a bird I adore as it took my year list to 169 beyond my 2013 and 2015 totals which had previously been joint fourth highest ever for me. The following Saturday I saw over 20 Little Egrets on one lagoon at Keyhaven which felt special. On the Sunday just gone at the Lymington end of this local nature reserve it was magical to see one hunting in the twilight and doing an action that resembled stomping, all to the backdrop of the peaceful sound of water gushing from a nearby pipe. Going back to warblers on a scorching August Sunday I saw my first Dartford Warblers of the year eventually at Thursley Common in Surrey after a bit of a wait also to see one this year, it was an honour to see three of these beautiful and precious birds.

The Osprey was a big star of my Bird Fair trip again seeing them at Egleton and Lyndon this year and I talk about that in my highlights post about the Bird Fair this year. I also photographed a Sedge Warbler being ringed at the BTO demonstration at the fair as shown in the 10th picture in this photoset. The week after the Bird Fair the August Bank Holiday weekend we went to RSPB Arne in Dorset where it was wonderful to see another Osprey as part of the brilliant Poole Harbour project. Buzzard, Green Woodpecker, Little Egret and Shelduck also joined lots of Sika Deers as stars that Saturday.