The Flickr Timmelling Image Generatr

In Shakespeare's time people knew that Cuckoos appeared in other birds' nests but they didn't know how they got there. They thought that the male Cuckoo mated with a Reed Warbler or Meadow Pipit who then laid a Cuckoo egg. Shakepeare mentions this in Love's Labours Lost:

The Cuckoo then on every tree.
Mocks married men for thus sings he.
Cuckoo, cuckoo. Oh word of fear.
Unpleasing to the married ear.

At this time, if someone's wife was having an affair, people would mock him by calling Cuckoo, hence the quote from Shakespeare. A Cuckold is the wronged husband, which is still used today from the mistaken belief that Cuckoos mated with their hosts, so the male host was "cuckolded".

The female is pretty sneaky when she lays an egg, choosing a moment when the nest is unattended, swiftly removing a host egg then depositing one of her own. A friend of mine tells me he has seen the male and female Cuckoo apparently working in cahoots, with the male drawing attention of the mobbing Meadow Pipits while the female follows behind taking advantage of the distraction to lay an egg.

I took this freshly-arrived male Cuckoo in the Peak District last week.

When I posted my previous face-on photo of this young male Pied Flycatcher, a number of people said that they didn't recognise it. So here's a side-on shot showing the diagnostic white wing patch. From the wing patch up it looks like a female, but below that it looks like a black and white male. So this is a one-year old male, hatched last year, but already trying to establish a territory. They are a bird of upland oakwoods in Britain and so are absent as breeders east of a line linking Portland and Flamborough Head. But they breed in Dartmoor and Exmoor, Wales, the Pennines and Lake District, and Scotland. When the Red Data List for Birds was drawn up in the 1990s Pied Flycatcher was green listed, but because of population declines it was elevated to amber in 2009 and then red in 2015. But I was quite surprised to learn how rare the Pied Flycatcher was during the nineteenth century. The Rev F O Morris in a History of British Birds 1850-57 wrote "with us it is very local, and like the majority of ornithologists, I have never seen it alive". It was largely confined to North Wales and the Lake District, with no breeding records at all from the Peak District, where it is now common. It is also a bird that was so rare it is almost devoid of local folk names. Thomas Pennant coined the name Pied Flycatcher in 1778 but prior to that was known by its then German name of Coldfinch.

I am still regularly seeing Crossbills but they seem to have dispersed from the places that were easy to photograph them. Probably because the long period without rain means the puddles have all dried up, which were a big draw for them. This one is a male with the attractive red plumage, about to feed on Scots Pine cones. You can see that he is "right-beaked" or dextral, because his lower mandible swings to the right. Left-beaked birds are known as sinistrals, but unlike right and left-handedness in humans, there seems to be an even split.

I was walking in some local woods yesterday with my wife when I heard a Pied Flycatcher singing. This may not seem that significant but I hadn't seen a Pied Flycatcher in these woods for over 25 years. I tracked down the songster and was puzzled because it looked like a female, with brown, not black head and back, and lacking the white "spectacles" resting on the bill, like this: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/54484991611/in/dateposted I would not expect a female to be singing so vigorously, so this was clearly a young male, hatched last year, and trying to attract his first mate. I went back this morning and he was still singing so I managed to capture a few half-decent shots of him. I quite liked this one of him perched next to some freshly emerged Beech leaves.

The name Ouzel is the oldest name for a Blackbird and was in use from the earliest times through to the seventeenth century, when Blackbird gradually took over. Shakespeare added a "W" in Midsummer Night's Dream (1590) "The Woosell cocke, so black of hew, with Orenge-tawny bill". The name Ring Ouzel for this species was first recorded by John Ray in 1674, with the ring referring to the white gorget in males. Gorget incidentally is the name for the breast plate in a suit of armour. Ray also used the name Rock Ouzel referring to its habitat and dialect names include Crag Ouzel and Tor Ouzel. Ring Ouzels nest in rocky moorland areas throughout Britain and are the upland counterpart of Blackbird. Unlike the resident Blackbirds, Ring Ouzels migrate south for the winter, where they feed on Phoenician Juniper berries in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. They have been red-listed since 2002 for a long term decline in numbers and contraction of breeding range. I took this male in the Peak District a few weeks back.

This Royal Tern was trying to reposition its grip on this mackerel as the lower part of its beak was skewering the fish's body. It managed to grab hold of the fish's head but it was so imbalanced that it ended up dropping it. The tern is an adult Royal Tern in non-breeding plumage and the fish is a Pacific Jack Mackerel. I took the photo off Mexico's Baja peninsula.

The word tawny is rarely used, apart from in long established names in nature. It persists in the names of a few moths (eg Tawny Pinion) and mushrooms (eg Tawny Grisette) , and in a few birds (eg Tawny Pipit, Tawny Eagle). The word describes a warm buff colour, like a lion maybe, which is highly inappropriate for Tawny Owl. The name was first used by Thomas Pennant in 1768 as more appropriate than the widely used folk name Brown Owl, and from then on it became the standard name. But Tawny Owl is certainly not tawny-coloured, unlike Tawny Pipit and Tawny Eagle. Beatrix Potter called the Tawny Owl "Old Brown" in the Tale of Squirrel Nutkin in 1903 so the name Brown Owl was probably still being used as a folk name. Incidentally, Tawny Port is aged in wooden barrels and fades to a pale brown colour.

This Tawny Owl was roosting during the day but unusually his head was fully visible. Usually they roost unseen deep inside holly bushes or ivy-covered trees. The sexes are similar but I'm guessing this one is a male as the female does all the incubation and brooding of young chicks, so would be unlikely to be sitting around in the open in early May.

I think that all of my flight shots of Osprey are from below, showing the white underwings. So here's a shot showing the plain, brown upperwings, though it does also give a good view of the tail pattern. I caught this one as it banked to drop into its nest on Mexico's San Benitos island. Osprey is a very widespread bird, occurring throughout the Americas, Eurasia and Africa, though they are always an exciting find in Britain.

This Wren is nesting in my garden at the moment, in an ivy-covered tree. The nest is cave-like and that is why it was given the scientific name Troglodytes, meaning cave-dweller. Males build several nests then escort the female around the nests to see if any take her fancy. If she chooses one she will line it with soft material before laying. After going to all the effort of building several nests he then puts his heart and soul into singing to get a female, which also serves to tell rival males that this territory is occupied. This male was singing vigorously on my garden fence, and was slowly pumping his wings with his ginger tail pointing skywards. And the song is so incredibly loud for such a tiny bird, 65-75 decibels, with an unusually large gular pouch which acts as a resonating chamber.

This is my first upload of a female Ring-necked Duck, though I have posted males before: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/54415278215/in/photolist Ring-necked Ducks are very regular trans-Atlantic wanderers from North America though it is predominantly males that get found. Males most closely resemble Tufted Ducks whereas females are probably more similar to Pochards, like this: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/29915990671/in/photolist Fortunately Ring-necked Ducks have a head like a gorilla with a high peaked crown, and more distinctive bill markings. This female Ring-necked Duck was near San Diego in southern California, where they winter.

Cuckoos are the shortest staying summer migrants, arriving in April, with most adult birds disappearing in July. The reason for this is because they don't have to hang around rearing their chicks as female Cuckoos lay their eggs in other birds' nests leaving the parasitised hosts to do all of the incubation and chick-rearing. But worse than that, the young Cuckoo turfs out any step siblings from the nest to ensure it gets the undivided attention of the unwitting foster parents. And as for the father Cuckoo, well mating is about his only contribution to the process. Incidentally, it was Edward Jenner who first reported that newly-hatched Cuckoos ejected any unhatched eggs or young chicks from the nest in 1788. It was Jenner who eight years later discovered vaccination against the deadly disease Smallpox by using serum from Cowpox victims. Cowpox was a milder, non-lethal disease that helped the body build up an immunity against the deadly Smallpox. Anyway, back to Cuckoos, most people believed it was the parent Cuckoos that removed the nest contents, probably because the female Cuckoo removes one egg from the host immediately prior to laying her own. But Jenner noticed that young Cuckoos had a depression in their backs that was used to heave eggs (or young chicks) out of the nest. Jenner received ridicule at the time from the likes of Charles Waterton, and the idea remained contentious for more than a hundred years. It was only really put to bed in the twentieth century when Eric Hosking photographed a young Cuckoo in the act of ejecting eggs. And just one final thought on Edward Jenner, a hero of medicine, possibly saving more lives than any other man because he was right with his hunch about immunisation. But just imagine if he'd got it wrong. He took a healthy child, injected him with serum from a blister of someone suffering from Cowpox, then exposed this previously healthy child to the deadly Smallpox.

I took this Cuckoo yesterday morning in the Peak District.

Here's a closer view of the Woodcock I found recently, though not that close as I was using a 700mm lens. The camouflage is so good that it is only the eye that stands out. No wonder I hardly ever find them. I chanced upon this one as I was heading out to the Peak District moors, but when I returned a few hours later I could not re-find it.

Jonathan Swift, of Gulliver's Travels fame, wrote a book called "Polite Conversation" (1738) offering an ironic and satirical commentary on the perceived banality of conversation among the upper classes in early-18th century Great Britain. It is written in the form of a reference guide for those lacking in conversational skill. One of his anecdotes was: "The Woodcock strives to hide his long bill, and then thinks nobody sees him".

Green Hairstreaks are usually out on the Peak District moors in late April but I saw my first on 12th April this year. There were plenty flying yesterday when I took this shot. They are a surprisingly variable butterfly in terms of the shade of green, and the extent of the white markings. Here's one (taken 15 years ago!) with lots of white markings: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/4598894905/in/photolist And here's one with hardly any: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/13908574967/in/photolist The one thing that does not vary is their determination never to bask with wings open.

I have been seeing the odd Cuckoo for a couple of weeks now but today was the first time I have managed to point a camera at one. He wasn't calling that much, contrary to the rhyme "in May he sings all day", but he did a couple of reasonably close fly pasts. The ones I have seen previously this year were not singing much either and I wonder if this is a reflection of declining numbers, so no need to compete by singing. My first sighting of the year looked like it had been grabbed by a Sparrowhawk as all of its central tail feathers were missing, leaving just one or two at the sides. Fortunately this individual had an intact tail.

Here is one last photo of the Swillington Firecrest that was present a couple of months back. All of the summer migrants are filling the countryside with photo-opportunities and I didn't want to forget about this full view shot. Its scientific name Regulus ignicapilla translates as "fire-haired little king". It was called little king because of its crown and that is also why they are known as Kinglets in America. Firecests first bred in Britain in 1962 but there are now about 2000 pairs, though mainly in the south. Even with this number breeding, this is the first time I have managed to get any half-decent photographs of one. This one was a winter wanderer, not a breeding bird.

This is a pair of Cinnamon Teal (Spatula cyanoptera), which confusingly translates as "blue winged teal", the name of a close cousin from North America. Males of the two species are very different but females are near identical. Here are male Blue-winged Teal: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/52795762348/in/photolist Cinnamon Teal is found in western North America but migrates as far as southern South America for the winter. A few have appeared in Britain but it has not, so far, been accepted as a genuine vagrant given its western distribution and popularity in wildfowl collections. But it is possible that some are genuine. These were photographed near San Diego in southern California.

This was taken this morning locally; a singing male Pied Flycatcher. This one had a particularly beautiful song with a tuneful little flurry at the end and here is a recording of this actual bird by my friend David Pennington: xeno-canto.org/991541 In springtime males sing and display to attract a female but the females hold out as long as possible for very good reason. This is because females build the nest and incubate the eggs, but while they are preoccupied the male will sometimes go off and find a second or even third mate. But the male does catch insects to help rear the chicks, but if his attentions are divided the success rate is lower. Just say a female can rear three chicks with the exclusive help of a male, but only two chicks if a male divides his labours between two nests. But this would mean a male could rear four chicks from two nests but only three from a single nest. So it is in the male's interest to have a second nest. But it is not in the female's interest to share him as she will rear fewer chicks. This is why the female holds out as long as possible, as the longer she makes him wait, the more likely it is that other females will be paired up, so she will have his sole attention. A true battle of the sexes.

Here's another recent Crossbill taken locally. This one is a young male with a characteristic yellow plumage with some orange just starting to appear, though superficially he looks like a female. Crossbills usually stick to the tree tops, and manage to position themselves so you are looking into the sun, but things were in alignment when I took this one low in a Scot's Pine with the sun behind me. Crossbill numbers fluctuate but they seem to be in good numbers this year after four or five lean years.

This is a Munk's Devil Ray (Mobula munkiana), also known as the Smoothtail Mobula, which is famous for acrobatically leaping high in the air. More interestingly, they often leap together, so you can sometimes sea dozens of them in the air together. They also exhibit a mating ritual known as the courtship vortex where thousands of rays swirl round in a clockwise vortex before they pair up individually. They featured on the recent BBC programme "The Americas" narrated by Tom Hanks. They look just like Manta Rays but are noticeably smaller with a width of just over a metre. They were indulging in a courtship vortex when I took this as we could see thousands around the boat with just their upturned wing-tips breaking the surface, with many of them leaping too. These mass leapings usually take place at dusk and the light was really fading when I took this in Mexico's Sea of Cortez.

Sorting Dunlin into subspecies is not easy but this one shows all the classic features of a British-breeding schinzii. It is short-billed, and has relatively pale rufous upperparts without a contrasting grey hindneck. The fact that it was on an upland reservoir right next to Dunlin breeding habitat is also another good pointer. There were two birds together and they were "singing" with that beautiful, pulsating trill that they make on the breeding grounds: xeno-canto.org/908418