Jonathan: The Heb Magazine 2015 is now out, in its new ‘free’ full-colour format. Here’s the 2-page spread I designed. A special deal negotiated for 2-page spread, 50/50 advert/editorial, all content and graphical design, print-ready, by yours truly. Including, I now see, at least one typo! No matter how many times I proof-read, there’s always something you only notice – and immediately! – once the damn thing is committed to print!! Cost was split between us and our neighbour, hence the significant space for the Kilbride Campsite.
Denise: Amongst things set aside by Becky from the clearance of my Mum’s house in Minsterley is A Bird Book for the Pocket by Edmund Sandars, 3rd Edition 1933. According to the flyleaf inscription, it was given to Mum in March 1943 (when she was just 17) by her first serious admirer – Spencer. Not the most promising of names for a suiter, perhaps, but no, I’m not going to delve here into her romantic history! The book falls open at ‘Corn Bunting’, a bird that’s significant here because there’s agricultural grants available to support this now increasingly threatened species, and traditional crofting practices on the Uist machair are particularly favourable to them. (Unfortunately ours is a talabh dubh croft, not machair!)I can’t help but suspect that said Edmund Sanders had a quiet day in the countryside completely ruined by the irritating monotony of the Corn Bunting’s call, stirring him into a frenzy of fault-finding. No, he was not impressed!
The following is compiled from the current RSPB website and Wikipedia.
The corn bunting is a bird of open country with trees, such as farmland and weedy wasteland. This nondescript lowland farmland bird is the largest of the buntings and is most usually seen perched on a wire or post. The song of the male is a repetitive metallic sound, usually likened to jangling keys, which is given from a low bush, fence post or telephone wires. It is a stout, dumpy brown bird which flies off with a fluttering flight and with its legs characteristically ‘dangling’. Its natural food consists of seeds and when feeding young, insects. It has declined greatly in north-west Europe due to intensive agricultural practices depriving it of its food supply of weed seeds and insects, the latter especially when feeding young. Its dramatic population decline in the UK makes it a Red List species. It has recently become extinct in Ireland, where it was previously common. Males defend territories in the breeding season and can be polygymous, with up to three females per breeding male. The population sex ratio is generally 1:1, which means some males remain unmated during a season. Males play only a small role in parental care; they are not involved in nest building or incubation, and only feed the chicks when they are over half grown. The nest is made of grass, lined with hair or fine grass, and is usually built on the ground. Average clutch size is four, but commonly varies from three to five, occasionally six.
These days there’s so much more weight given to the place of an individual species in the wider scheme of things, and its vulnerability to changes in environment.
And by the way … I think their call is soothing and restful. So there, Edmund Sandars!
Not so sure about the Corn Crake, though!
Jonathan: For those with their fingers poised over the keyboard with a smug knowing smile, about to send me the name ‘Weed’ I’m afraid you’re too late to name this morning’s lamb. After making progress during the day and even trying to follow Bill and Ben, the poor wee thing passed away suddenly whilst Denise was feeding it. We think it might have choked on the milk, but can’t be sure. I tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, clearing its airways, and I could see it trying to hang on to life, but it didn’t quite make it. It’s not often we have to deal with dead lambs (or sheep), thank heavens, and until now they’ve all been born dead or dying shortly after birth – before we first find them. This is the first death of a lamb we’ve been caring for. I’m finding it’s more saddening than I would have expected. We couldn’t afford to keep sheep at all if they didn’t pay their way, but equally we couldn’t justify keeping them at all if we didn’t strive to do the very best for them we can. We’ve still so much to learn!