Walked into The Warren a wood of many hundreds of acres between Buckland and Stanford and upon entering into the interior, the raging wind and squally rain decreased in intensity as the mixed conifer and deciduous trees enveloped me.
I hoped for Crossbill but if they were there I didn't find them, the first birds seen were a party of six Long Tailed Tits accompanied by Great, Blue and just one Marsh Tit efforts to take photographs were thwarted by the non-stop movement of this apparently merry band of roaming avian gymnasts. Further on I noticed that mouse-like but always exciting climber of trees the Tree Creeper and try as I might, this little gem proved elusive to snap with my camera, always disappearing on the other side of the tree trunk just as I had lined up and focused for a decent shot.
A Green Woodpecker took flight from a clearing and was soon lost among the trees as it made off using its rising and falling, kind of dippy flight.
Peering through a break in the ride-side hedging a substantial relatively clear area mainly treeless but with trimmings from previously felled trees lay before me and I counted six pheasants and a small Muntjac that seemed not to notice me even though the wind was taking my scent to it and indeed the Jay that flew into a tree and seemed impervious to my presence remained as I felt the privilege of being allowed into the lives of these wild creatures as they ignored me for some minutes.
I sometimes prefer birding on my own as it gives the opportunity to experience that almost weird feeling of isolation that drags my senses back to a time when man was closer to being one with the world of nature, and the swaying trees protecting me from just about all the outside tempest could muster, gave me a feeling of comfort while at the same time leaving me
a little uneasy that I was so alone, the cry of a Buzzard dragged me out of my near dream-world and signaled to me it was time I made my way home.
The Oxon Feather.