Saturday October 12
The forecast was right, unfortunately. I woke, for the last time, to the comfortable sound of horses clopping by and, rain on the roof. A leisurely start before setting off for Portland Observatory, circa forty five minutes drive away via Weymouth. In retrospect we'd maybe have been wiser getting a cottage on the Bill but none were available. Where we are is lovely so I'm not unhappy.
We missed the narrow and well hidden driveway to the Obs on the first drive past, continuing to the Bill car park. I did some sea watching before eating a late breakfast, slightly early, lunch. The sea was interestingly disturbed but not by any birds, other than a lone Cormorant and many Greater Black-backed Gulls. A field near the Observatory had dozens of these impressive Gulls, just loafing about.
We found a parking place in the small car park and Pam went off to investigate before coming back for me. The entrance door steps held a lidless bin full of egg boxes, which were being examined by a couple and a single man. We joined the happy group. The woman asked if she'd seen us at Holme, describing my 'posh chair' ! They're from Staffordshire, staying at the Obs. It's their last day. The man too is staying nearby and was helpfully knowledgable. Three new moths for us. My Canon 80 had gone missing (later found in the gloves and hats rucksack) so I had to use my phone camera. Poor light - still very grey and raining - and my inexperience.
Feathered Brindle
Feathered Gothic
Rusty Dot Pearl is not new but is a migrant.
The main attraction was potted and in the fridge. A Radford's Flame Shoulder. As usual, the pot was less than clean.
Martin, the warden, appeared, chatting for a while before driving away. We cannot park in the grounds again, I can be dropped off whilst Pam goes off to park. The limited space is reserved for the residential occupants. Understandable but, there should be one space for disabled surely. i.e. me !!
The parking area for 'permit holders only' to view the American Black Tern, belongs to the Yacht Club, Martin stating that they are quite militant in upholding this. One needs to park in a lay-by and walk. We'll have a look.
Both traps are out to-night in the pouring rain. Fingers crossed for something.
We missed the narrow and well hidden driveway to the Obs on the first drive past, continuing to the Bill car park. I did some sea watching before eating a late breakfast, slightly early, lunch. The sea was interestingly disturbed but not by any birds, other than a lone Cormorant and many Greater Black-backed Gulls. A field near the Observatory had dozens of these impressive Gulls, just loafing about.
We found a parking place in the small car park and Pam went off to investigate before coming back for me. The entrance door steps held a lidless bin full of egg boxes, which were being examined by a couple and a single man. We joined the happy group. The woman asked if she'd seen us at Holme, describing my 'posh chair' ! They're from Staffordshire, staying at the Obs. It's their last day. The man too is staying nearby and was helpfully knowledgable. Three new moths for us. My Canon 80 had gone missing (later found in the gloves and hats rucksack) so I had to use my phone camera. Poor light - still very grey and raining - and my inexperience.
Feathered Brindle
Rusty Dot Pearl is not new but is a migrant.
The main attraction was potted and in the fridge. A Radford's Flame Shoulder. As usual, the pot was less than clean.
Martin, the warden, appeared, chatting for a while before driving away. We cannot park in the grounds again, I can be dropped off whilst Pam goes off to park. The limited space is reserved for the residential occupants. Understandable but, there should be one space for disabled surely. i.e. me !!
The parking area for 'permit holders only' to view the American Black Tern, belongs to the Yacht Club, Martin stating that they are quite militant in upholding this. One needs to park in a lay-by and walk. We'll have a look.
Both traps are out to-night in the pouring rain. Fingers crossed for something.
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