June’s entries from my Homecoming journal seem to have been melted by the month’s heat into one listless flow of pigeons, dry earth and bird anxiety. Some drama has been provided by moorhens, the return of swallows and a hedgehog, but the highlight was a trip to the Peak District, where moorland flora and fauna proved a fascinating contrast to what I see at home and my curlew-induced excitement will take a long time to fade.
Sunday 1st:
I find the gentle coos and melody of the woodpigeon such a comforting, reassuring sound. Its mellow warmth around the year, day or night, makes me nostalgic and cosy on an evening village loop.
Monday 2nd:
New-mown grass. After no-mow May, the mowers have been out in force. Whilst not necessarily a treat for hayfever sufferers, the smell of freshly cut grass says summer freshness like nothing else.
Tuesday 3rd:
Pretty, white and tiny, pristine against dark green leaves for contrast, firethorn. I’ve probably seen it before but never really registered it, likely growing against the same wall. Certainly not a name I recognise.
Wednesday 4th:
More curious, low-key discoveries in the backstreets, growing from between old walls and the roads’ edge: nipplewort, tiny dandelion wannabees atop tall stems, lightly scattered purple rock cress, bursting free of brick and tar.
Thursday 5th:
A day of showers. Not flood-inducing, but a good watering to the earth, which lay satisfyingly damp as I looped in the evening, enjoying the sight of shallow puddles and wet soil where the ponds have drained a bit – not refilled, but watery nonetheless. Blackbird song all round. A different plant each day growing in cracks next to streets and alleyways – today, purple foxglove.
Friday 6th:
A brief shower as I looped and over in a matter of minutes brought with it that wonderful summer rain freshness from the earth and air. A sparrow gave loud orders from a drainpipe. Elderflower in colour, replacing the white of the earliest cow parsley, past its froth and stalky as the newcomer takes over. Lone moorhen nest.
Saturday 7th:
A day of reasonably heavy showers, although none of the thundery ones which were forecast. The brook, replenished but not too full, clear, no silt or mud clouding it as there often is with rain, a healthy-seeming sight.
Sunday 8th:
A breathy snuffling from the end of the garden when I fed the rabbits this morning. Not a bird, too noisy for a rat or cat, was it the neighbours’ usually silent dog behind the fence? Undergrowth rustled and, after a few moments’ watching, a large hedgehog was revealed. Exploring, a worry in daylight, but then it settled, watched us watching it, turned and went a bit deeper. A mother, having just fed her young, perhaps?
Monday 9th:
Despite recent rain, after a dry day yesterday, the ground looked reasonably dry again this morning. As I’ll be walking and under canvas I don’t really want more rain for a week or so, but it really does need to dribble down and soak in after that. Please!
Tuesday 10th:
Arrived at my Buxton campsite to be greeted by a cheerful blue tit. A pair seem to be enjoying playing in the tree nearest to my tent and the campsite crow is very vocal!
Wednesday 11th:
A long hike over Mount Famine, South Head and through the peaty moorland of Kinder Scout. A very vocal wren bid me a noisy farewell at the start and skylarks filled the first half, meadow pipits in the moorland (posing on fenceposts until the camera was aimed), caterpillars and beetles. Rhododendron, heath bedstraw, tussock and cottongrass, small emperor moth caterpillar.
Thursday 12th:
Train to Chapel-en-le-Frith then a circuit of Combs Moss – grouse moorland with dog-free open access footpaths around the whole tops. Bracken, stubby heather and bilberries, more skylarks and meadow pipits, white wagtail, tortoiseshell and cabbage white butterflies and bumblebees loving it. Beetles and caterpillars: black chalk and blue shield bug and oak egger caterpillar. Best of all, the elusive cuckoo gave a couple of rounds and curlew not only honked, but three appeared in a sheep field just below me. Plus, swallow, downy birch, tormentil.
Friday 13th:
A walk of two halves in the Goyt Valley – the more challenging second half cheered by the sound of a cuckoo. Lots of foxgloves this week. Willow warbler, skylark and noisy wrens. Best of all, the first sound I heard and the last near the car park was a curlew and even watched a young one scuttle across the high moorland.
Saturday 14th:
Cow parsley has now reached a withered, dried-out and wilting stage, bare stalks making May’s frothing a distant memory. Whiteness still asserts itself on roadside verges, though, as nettles flower milkily. Also, the purple siren of thistles, an alluring contrast to their spikiness.
Sunday 15th:
One bird was particularly angry as I looped. I’m not sure whether it was directed at me or another perceived threat, perhaps to its young. A constant machine-gun ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ from the trees. Bramble flowers.
Monday 16th:
Swallows soaring! As I enjoyed an evening loop, half a dozen screeched and soared above me, a graceful return after an absence of a couple of years. Less suave, but more glamourous, a trio of goldfinches played or bickered.
Tuesday 17th:
For the past couple of days, there’s been a moorhen on the nest in the duckhouse on one of the village ponds. Both were there yesterday. Is it just a good spot to rest, or are they sitting on some eggs this time?
Wednesday 18th:
I’m increasingly hopeful about the moorhens. One was sitting on the nest again today and was very assertive, protesting loudly and aggressively when some ducks floated in its direction. I did accidentally cause an unfortunate pigeon/can collision – a thud but no sign of the bird.
Thursday 19th:
A flurry of swallows. I didn’t try to count the Hitchcock-esque swarm skidding, screeching and diving above my head, but good to see so many. Just as I then thought how few butterflies I’ve seen this year relatively, several cabbage whites and tortoiseshells punctuated the rest of my loop. Noisy goldfinches.
Friday 20th:
Moorhen still in place on its nest. Starlings out in force on their favourite street – someone’s bird table pleases them and that pleases me. Close up robin, landed a foot or so in front of me, considered things, then flew onto the wall above my head. Nettles grown really high.
Saturday 21st:
Very slow-moving, louche bee made its way casually across the pavement, oblivious to me nearly stepping on it. And another one this evening – they must be affected by the oppressive, humid heatwave as much as I am! I continue ever hopeful of the moorhen – still on the nest this evening; it’s there whatever time of day I pass.
Sunday 22nd:
This morning I read a Substack post which completely explained my nostalgic love of pigeons gently singing, from childhood memories of early mornings waiting to get up, listening to their reassuring sound. This evening, walking back from the station, it was like all the village pigeons had understood this and chosen to put on a display for me.
Monday 23rd:
Windy and overcast, the starlings are like overexcited schoolchildren reacting to the swirls – buzzing around, chattering noisily, seemingly unsettled. A bright pink vivid rose has colonised a pathway, escaped from a neighbouring garden, complementing rather than clashing with its base layer of rose-of-sharon.
Tuesday 24th:
The remnants of a starling murmuration dissolved in the sky outside my window as I ate breakfast. Still swarming overhead a couple of hours later and after lunch. Has the wind unsettled them again? Sadly, the moorhens weren’t on the nest – maybe the pair just like the spot, perhaps they’re establishing themselves and staking their territory against the ducks! Small blue butterfly.
Wednesday 25th:
Less windy today, allowing birds to ride the thermals in what looked like an effortless glide. Swallows cruising at height, wings still in a classic silhouette. A loan red kite, coasting, as if looking for prey was too much effort.
Thursday 26th:
The swallows were out, noisily, en masse. Not as low as last time I saw lots, but definitely swarming over a favourite spot. They seem to like the meeting of a new cul-de-sac of executive homes, the car park of some business units and a hairdresser’s which looks like it perms and rinses elderly ladies.
Friday 27:
An evening loop. Accompanied by mellow pigeon vocals, whilst I emptied my brain of the working day. One clacking robin made me more aware of sight and sound, a lucky disturbance as I spotted two house martins, forked tails against the clear blue sky. Swallows and house martins in the village!
Saturday 28th:
I always find bird communication fascinating. A loop around country lanes was sparrow-soundtracked. Two communicating across a road – coordinating feeding, perhaps, or warning one not to cross onto the other’s territory.
Sunday 29th:
Back in February I spotted a huge mushroom, bashed up, next to a pavement in the village. this evening, I solved the riddle of where it came from – dryad’s saddle growing on a tree, shrouded in ivy. At least five mushrooms halfway up the trunk.
Monday 30th:
A baking hot day. Birdsong languid and lethargic. More out of necessity than anything else, apart form one agitated blackbird, scratching out its discontent with a man creosoting his fence below its tree. Watched a red kite float effortlessly and lazily on the thermals and, despite the absence of much activity, plenty of white butterflies, as has been the case since I complained of no butterflies. A young starling nervously marked out my path in front of me until it heeded the warnings of its patents and took to the wing.
Finally, if all of our power was created like this beauty on Combs Moss our summers would be less parched …