Streatham high road this afternoon

Streatham high road this afternoon, yesterday a bunch of us went to the Nunhead Cemetery open day, what a beautiful location for celebrating urban wildlife, as well as beekeeping, woodworking, falconry etc, I saw the raptors up close but did feel heartbroken to see them tethered, later I saw a kestrel flying very high above Nunhead. We went into the crypt and saw mouldy old coffins in neat cubby holes, many goths were hidden out in the woods, trying not to get tanned....

Fox, sparrowhawk, Little Owl

Quite a day - in the morning on my way to Tooting Bec Common a beautiful little red fox, then the sparrowhawk on her white feathery nest, in the afternoon a wonderful sight of the Little Owl roosting on Streatham Common, during a very hot day.

Sparrowhawk over Streatham common, possibly two hobbys

I saw the sparrowhawk fly onto her nest in Bedford wood, the nest has small white feathers entiwined in its edges, I wonder if they are from chicks (too soon?) or from other birds. In the early evening I saw a Sparrow-hawk over Streatham common, and possibly a pair of hobbys, flying across Norwood Grove, at first I thought they were peregrines at first, but looking them up I now think they were smaller than peregrines, probably sea gulls ! but I'm sure the second one was a male with some redness underneath...

Swifts above Tooting Bec Common today;Sparrowhawk in her nest.

The first Swifts of the summer were cavorting above Tooting Bec Common today. Below, a Lenticular Cloud above the common. In Bedford Wood the Sparrowhawk was in her nest. All is well....

Below, Cafe Wood, looking so beautiful this morning

Queued to vote this morning

Above, mute swan on Tooting Bec Common.

I queued to vote this morning, I'm hoping this might indicate an imminent landslide, despite all the best efforts of the English gutter press to re-elect our current, out-of-touch, elite.

Athene's room was small and well insulated, giving their voices a flat, serious quality, like a Bakelite radio broadcast. The air inside it was sweetly resinous. He was working hard to remember all these details, even while they talked. They were 15 minutes into the session and he was acutely aware of time leaking away.

"I remember Robert, we once had a similar conversation about swifts - how you envied their scissoring effervescence, their apparently carefree lives."
"Yes, it's true - I envy the lives of others, even wood-lice."
"Believe me - they all have good and bad days."
Athene's yellow and green eyes looked directly into Robert's, above them a white uni-brow added to their ferocity. There were delicate flecks of white all across her flat brown face and rounded body. She was an odd mixture of childlike bundle and raptor sharpness, somehow he'd grown fond of these confusing contradictions.
They were up high, inside the rotten oak where Athene had lived and worked for years. It was only a few metres from the pond, but seemed another world to Robert, at least for the one hour a week he sat with her.
"Robert, I'm so glad you've kept this last appointment, even though things are bleak for you right now. Tell me more about Albin, what is it you envy about him?"
Robert cleared his throat, tilted his red and yellow beak sideways before speaking.
"He knows he'll wake in the morning. He knows his wife and children are safe - there is even a royal warrant to guarantee his protection."
“He's certainly arrogant, I agree. His gait in the water is sovereign – an effortless glide." Although she lived safely, with no personal threat from predators, Athene too, had lost many children - crows had eaten them or parakeets thrown her chicks from the nest to make space for their own. He knew this from others - she never spoke revealingly about her own life.
“He is above molecular resistance," Robert flexed one of his long, scaly toes, "have you noticed how he flies through the air like a strong heart, slowly and regularly, his huge white wings beating the sky? He's so sure of himself and his place in the world - he has no need of hurry.”
“Are there any downsides to this high-and-mighty existence?”
“His voice, although not strictly mute, can only raise itself to a farting snort, much like a small pig - though God help you if you make that observation in front of him. He's killed for less."
"What do you imagine has made Albin into such a brute?"
"Some months ago he started talking to himself. Ranting. I learnt his most traumatic memory was his father trying to drown him beneath Putney Bridge.”
“That explains his violence?"
“According to Albin, it was a valuable lesson - an apprenticeship in cygnine masculinity he never forgot."
“I remember his father, Alarch. He was a fascist, wasn't he?”
“He was a member of the Cygni - a fascist organisation established in the 1990s. Alarch's membership number was 4. Albin loved his father for his low membership number and his lack of mercy, he loved himself even more for doubling it – the brutality. But his love for his father was always shaky - to celebrate his death he had a brief affair with his mother and sisters before abandoning them to the Swan Sanctuary at Shepperton. After that he moved into the pond on Tooting Bec Common with Bianca."
“Albin and Bianca epitomise Folie à deux - they share a psychosis - a deluded emotional convergence, much like the Miloševićs or the Ceaușescus. But tell me about your own father, how does this story of brutal fathers resonate for you?"
"Dad? He was like me. Meek. Intellectual. Not good at fighting. But we knew he loved us."
"How?"
"He tried to make things feel safe, even though they weren't. When we were in danger he showed us how to make toys from sticks, to distract us."
"Who does that remind you of?"
He twitched his shoulders, looked down.
"You are a good father Robert."
He swallowed loudly, trying not to weep.
"What are you feeling now?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I feel so anxious I can't tell any more."
"Shall I tell you what I feel?"
He nodded his tiny head.
"I'm touched by how tenderly you look after your own family in such difficult circumstances.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to a Chiffchaff's repeated call. It echoed around them like the sharpening of knives.
“And in your fantasies about his inner life is Albin happy or unhappy?"
"I think his happiness is synchronised with his repeated compulsions – constantly patrolling the pond, gliding along its wavy edges, harbouring an imminent yet elegant rage to let others know they will never rise above him or dominate the waters, to kill the weak and demoralise the strong."
“You have developed such useful insight Robert. Do you remember when we first started working together, how hard you found it to talk?”
“I do.”
"So what are you going to do now - to make things better for you and your family?"
"Try to start a new life in a pond near Norwood."
"I applaud your pro-activity. It won't be easy but you are taking control."
"I wanted to ask you, Athene - are you ever scared of Albin and Bianca?”
“I’m not scared of them but I don't like what I see.”
“What do you see?”
“An emotional cross-contagion unique to swans and humans but never found in Moorhens or Little Owls.”
“We do have our plus-points then?”
“We have many Robert, but now, I'm afraid, our last hour together must end.”
"Thank you for listening to me Athene."
"Good luck to you Robert."
He would be sad, he knew that, but his father had loved him and Albin’s hadn't. He had that to hold onto as he left Athene for the last time.

Pond story

Bianca and Albin were back in the area. They worked together as man and wife persecutors, silently hunting down and cleansing the area of those in the community who were deemed undesirable or inferior. They'd been searching for the Rail family all night, systematically scanning every dark corner and potential hiding hole in the district. The Rails did their best to protect their two children from sensing the danger they were in, but Galina, the mother, couldn't stop shaking, her eyes were red and wide open and her voice had an unmistakeable tremble in it. She had a habit of twitching her shoulders when the terror became too much for her. Robert, the father, felt both pity and anger when he saw his wife do this; he hated himself for feeling this way, for resenting the fear that visibly engulfed her, but he hated even more the idea his children might detect any sign of it.

"Why does mummy look so funny?" Jacob asked his father.

"She's got a tummy ache, it makes her feel tired."

"But she doesn't look tired" said Jacob as he played with a stick he'd fashioned into a sailing boat.

"That's enough, go back to bed or you'll wake your sister".

He hoped his voice sounded ordinary though their lives were in imminent danger. Bianca and Albin were the most aggressively vicious persecutors in the neighbourhood. What frightened him most was the way they carried out their duties with such hungry pleasure.

Last week Galina and Robert had seen this cruelty for themselves, cowering for cover instead of trying to help their neighbours of several years, the Hewitts. They were ashamed of this - their cowardly paralysis, but the violence unleashed upon their neighbours was beyond all intervention. They'd seen poor Mrs Hewitt held down in three feet of water and drowned, while Mr Hewitt was beaten and stamped on by Bianca. The memory was more than they could bear. As the two huge Mute Swans approached the reed-bank Galina stifled a sob, if this was the end she hoped it would be quick, but the terrifying, muscular swans, seemed to revel in prolonging the pain they inflicted on Moorhens and all creatures considered lesser species. Even if they survived the night it was clear the pond on Tooting Bec Common was no longer safe. Somehow they had to find a new refuge. Robert had recently overheard three Coots discussing a pond further South of Tooting, towards Norwood. Perhaps this might be a safe haven, somewhere the kids could have a real future? One without the constant threat of violence. As he thought about this dream Robert stayed very still. He was glad to see the kids were both asleep. Albin and Bianca were now perilously close to the nest, he could see Albin's huge orange and black fringed bill and Bianca's bead-like black eyes. The water made tell-tale lapping sounds as it carried them. He only let himself breathe once they had passed.

Dawn Chorus Sydenham Hill woods Saturday

It was worth getting up at 3:30 on Saturday morning to attend the Dawn Chrous walk in Sydenham Hill woods, it was a tremendous avian opera. To top it all we saw a very good view of a Tawny Owl, amidst the shrieking, horrified alarm calls of Nuthatches and Thrushes. Later I saw the sparrowhawk in the nest in Bedord woods, This morning I saw both the male and femal in the nest, it looked like they were having a BankHoliday lie in.