Pigeons of different varieties are apparently found on every continent on earth except Antarctica. I’m not surprised. I’ve yet to visit a country where I’ve seen none. This particular specimen was opportunistically hanging round the outside tables of a a café down at the port in Premià de Mar on Thursday. There were croissant crumbs to be had …
For IJ Khanewala’s Bird of the Week XXXIX
… back in England.
My daughter sent me these photos from a day out at Smithills Open Farm, Bolton. I’ll let these alpacas speak for themselves.
Last week – half term in London – I was on Granny Duty. And my daughter and granddaughter were over from Spain too. So one day, we went to Mudchute Farm. This is a community-based city farm that’s home to sheep and cows and ducks and geese and hens and all the usual suspects. But towards the end of the day, squirrels came centre-stage. They’re not part of the farm. But they’ve learnt that it’s a great place to hang out. All that free food. And some of it from visitors. William at one point dropped his apple core – accidentally of course: we’re not litter-louts. Before he could do anything about it, a cheeky squirrel had scuttled out and grabbed it: and retreated to a goat pen so she could eat it in peace.
For Monday Portrait.
Spotted the other day in Swinton Park near Masham, through the spectral swirling leaves of an autumn afternoon, three woodland wraiths. Well, that’s what I thought they were, anyway.
Monday Portrait.
We’ve had a lot of misty-moisty mornings lately, and I turned this photo up when looking for soft-focus shots for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. This isn’t for that challenge: I just thought this hardy creature deserved her five minutes of fame as a Monday Portrait.
Yes, really. That is the collective noun for a group of flamingos. As seen in Slimbridge Wetland Centre, Gloucestershire, and near Thessaloniki, Greece.
It’s Sheep Central round here. More than can ever – surely – enter the food chain. Far more than the wool trade requires. At shearing time, you’ll pass barns full of discarded fleeces, not worth the effort of gathering up and attempting to sell them. The sheep are well-fenced here – usually – so they don’t get out and browse the grass to the very ground, or maraud in any woodland they find. All the same, I do rather wonder – why so very, very many?
But here are two handsome enough specimens –
And here are some hungry sheep, requiring a top-up of food.
And here’s one on the moor above Dallowgill. Monarch of all she surveys.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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