Thursday 20th October (Green Leaves, Brown Leaves and a Green Macaw)


Mr. Kite looked out of his bedroom window into a white and grey sky with a hint of the sun hidden somewhere behind. Today Mr. Kite had some plans of some sort.

So at ten o'clock Mr. Kite met his birding companion and The Incapacitants cycled to Plealey before going for a hike. In the warm sunshine and gentle breeze the birds were active. The Incapacitants stopped to watch a sparrowhawk circle and climb.

Now in Annscroft The Incapacitants stopped to look into a living room in a house. They were not being nosey; they did not stop to admire the decor or the architecture of the house and there was not a naked female inside. No they stopped to look at a parrot perched on top of a cage in the window of the living room; this parrot was a green macaw. This handsome bird did not count in the competition.

From Plealey The Incapacitants walked into Broompatch; a well managed woodland. Here they watched nuthatch, treecreepers, marsh tits and a greater-spotted woodpecker. Also a number of mistle thrush flew around. Overhead ravens croaked, rooks went 'kaah, kaah, kaah' and common buzzards squarked.

Walking through Longden Manor and Oak Woods The Incapacitants headed towards Habberley and The Mytton Arms. Now the bird count rose and their thirst increased. The good news is that The Mytton Arms sells good beer but the bad news is that it shut just as The Thirsty Incapacitants arrived.

So dismayed, distraught and disappointed The Thirsty Incapacitants changed the planned walk over the summit of Earls Hills and headed to The Plough in Pontesbury along wooded footpaths, minor roads and country lanes. Now The Plough also sells good beer so The Incapacitants headed enthusiastically to the pub. With a good thirst, salivating at the mouth and tasting that bitter tart they arrived at the closed and locked door of The Plough. Blinking heck, what a disaster; but never mind The Nags Head was only down the road.

So ambling through the village ticking off collared dove The Incapacitants headed towards that tasty, thirst quenching pint of best bitter in The Nags Head.  Now this was a major disaster; the pub was closed. The let down was indescribable. So they set off back towards the chained cycles over fields and through woods and over newly ploughed fields thirsty and sober.

At this stage the birding competition was a draw but then a grey heron flew into view and Mr. Kite was losing. The loss was confirmed by a fluttering song thrush. Now Mr. Kite had a good day bird-watching and went home for a well deserved tipple of Becks. Cheers.