Rough-legged Buzzard - Dip

Took myself a couple of kilometers up the N2 this morning to see if the RL buzzard spotted in the flooded field this morning was still around.  I got there at about 11 and Dermot O'M was already there.  As I parked Dermot was in the process of removing a dead buzzard from the middle of the road.  First thoughts were "I don't believe this, its been hit and killed before I've had a chance to see it"..........    Well luck was in for the RL buzzard, Dermot was removing one of his cousins, a common buzzard.

It had a hole in its side chest cavity.  It was otherwise still intact, this and the "freshness" of its appearance meant it was killed possibly on a couple of minutes before we arrived.  Believe me, the traffic on this stretch of road is so busy that anything lying around for more than a few minutes will end up frisbee shaped in no time.

I've attached a photo of the unfortunate buzzard below.



road kill buzzard N2 - not the RL variety!


Anyway, back to the business of the RL buzzard.  We stayed for about 30 minutes, no show.  We stayed a bit longer.... no show.  Dermot decided to head on up to Annagassan to see if the grey phalarope was still present, I'd had it yesterday, it was sheltering within the walls of the harbour from very rough seas.

I hung around for another hour and guess what..... no RL buzzard.   The field had plenty of ducks (mallard), mute swans (pair), lapwing, blackwits, and lots of gulls, mostly BH.  Scoping the far tree line for the RL gave up a male merlin.

Another dip, time for home.  Its only a few minutes drive home so I'll keep an eye on the field over the next couple of days, so fingers crossed.

Mind your step

Breath in, smell the sea.... two hours spent in Kilcoole, nothing much on show but hey the airways got a workout.  I love that smell, the almost arced, seaweed smell that tells you your on the coast.  That's the smell  that was in the air that filled my lungs on Sunday, and boy does it make you glad your alive!

Back to the car, open the boot, prepare to change out of the boots, take one last deep intake of sea air and enjoy........ sniff...... SNIFF...... that doesn't smell right, something smells like what I imagine pedigree chum would smell like if it was opened and left to fester in a heated room for about a week (or substitute a heated room for a canine intestine) ...... DOG SHIT, and its on my boots! 

I want to get the K9 mutt who left its load for me to step into and insert said boot into rectum.  Actually I don't, I want to get the owner of the K9 and insert said boot into rectum, I want to deliver retribution the old fashioned way with a good old KICK IN THE ARSE!!

You see that's the problem with taking a coastal walk anywhere in Ireland, you run the risk of stepping on the K9 version of an IED.   Insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan leave explosives on footpaths, mans best friend just leaves his load.  And ain't that a real spoiler, I really thought I'd avoided the literally hundreds of deposits at Kilcoole on Sunday, but as they say, it only takes one.  My guard slipped for a second, maybe I was distracted by the distant call of the curlew (poetic), or was it when I looked up to say hello to a passer by, the point is it doesn't really matter how, the point is at some point in the afternoon I trod in a steaming turd.

Ironically when I met Brian H last Tuesday at Kilcoole we were speaking about how much K9 crap there was in the area, this was the very conversation we were having as we admired the BB sandpiper.  Brian H was saying how disgraceful it was that dogs were allowed run free by their owners and disturb so many birds, never mind the fact their owners couldn't give a shit (leave that for the dogs) what they get up to and where.

On Sunday I met Steven L at Kilcoole and again the conversation at some point turned to dogs running free and the mess they leave.  In fact just before I met Steven L I had an experience right out of "meet the Fockers" you know the part where Robert De Nero gets up close and personnel with Dustin Hoffmans dog.  There I was, near the buckthorn, eyes down on a beautiful RT diver when I felt something going on around the ankles.  I looked down and I was practically being dry humped by some little mutt who had taken a fancy to my right leg.  Its owner caught up and said something along the lines of  "it wont bite".  To be honest it wasn't its biting that concerned me at that minute, it was ..... well lets leave that one right there I'm sure you get the picture.

Fast forward an hour and there I am in the car park wondering how in the hell I'm going to remove two pounds of dog shit from the grooves in the soles of the boots,  smelling of pedigree chum and not very happy at all!  Breath in smell the sea air, nah all I can get is.........................