Photography Weekends

Well, it has been a quiet week in terms of my blog following the daily postings during my August Challenge. (Thank you for all your support there) However, I haven't posted anything here as I have been busy with not only the usual shoots for clients but preparing for and launching a show in Design Essentials for the month of September. (More on that in another post) But there is one more thing I have been busy with - preparing to open my West Cork doors for Photography Weekends.

As many of you know, I am fortunate to be able to divide my time between life in East Anglia and escaping to West Cork. I have also had many of you comment on how lovely it looks and how much you too would love to visit. Well now I'm offering you the opportunity to do just that!

For three weekends during October, I will be hosting exclusive three night photographic breaks for beginners and improvers in a home from home environment. Group sizes are limited to four and will be fully escorted and inclusive. There will be opportunities to try many different aspects of photography whilst enjoying a holiday in this beautiful part of Ireland. The highlight of the weekend will be a trip out whale watching (weather permitting) with Cork Whale Watch, just as the season for cetacean activity is approaching its peak.

The long weekends run from Saturday to Tuesday on the following dates:

SB01 Saturday 11th — Tuesday 14th October 2014

SB02 Saturday 18th — Tuesday 21st October 2014

SB03 Saturday 25th — Tuesday 28th October 2014

NOTE: weekend two is now sold out, there is availability on weekend three and limited availability on weekend one.

For more details, go to my website and look for West Cork Photography Weekends in the Photo Courses section. If you would like to book, I recommend you don't hang about as interest has been keen since I first mentioned I would be offering these breaks and there are limited places. If however you won't be able to make it at short notice, then don't worry - I'm planning to expand the selection of breaks in the Spring and run similar breaks next Autumn (although they won't be at the same special introductory price next year!)

Only £475.00 per person*

Don't delay! Book today, or share this post with anyone you think would love this special opportunity.

Look forward to hearing from you!

Bluebell Time

When my old mum moved to live in the same town as us six years ago, I made a promise that each year when the bluebells were in bloom in a local wood, I would take her to see them. Today was that day for the annual visit, some three weeks earlier than the visit last year but then how different the Springs have been. Mind you, isn't that the joy of nature, the quirks and variations that give us all something to note in our mind's diary or give us something to talk about.

However, the show of bluebells, whenever they happen, is always something to talk about, and as for the scent of these Spring wonders - you just have to be there to take it in.

Stunning!

A Series of Phenomena

**By the way, a bit of a celebration here... this is my 500th blog post - hip hip hooray!**

During my trip out to West Cork last week, the weather was kind enough (for once) for me to get out and about with my camera. Although this visit was made for a particular assignment, it was the unplanned shots that ended up being the winners for me. However, I must warn you that you may find some of the following images upsetting.

Rainbows, a phenomenon which never cease to please but it is a case of being in the right place at the right time, so when this one suddenly appeared over Dooneen, as I was going out on a tea-time foray at the end of a glorious day, I was fortunate to be set up with my gear.

Rolling a little further down the hill and I came across the next phenomenon - starlings. There is a small murmuration that happens around Bawnishall most evenings between late Autumn and early Spring. Nothing on the scale of the Fen Drayton show I usually go to watch here in the UK but wonderful none the less.

On this particular evening they were just starting to gather on the wires as I sat watching from the rain protected car, their distinctive chatter confirming their presence.

An hour or so later on my return journey along the Glandore road, the next phenomenon caught my eye. The rooks were noisily having their turn at gathering for the night - safety in numbers and all that. In the trees, along the wires - in the fading light it could be viewed as menacing but for me, a fascinating thing to watch. How they all stay put on a swaying wire amazes me and depending on which way they faced, they carefully adjusted their 'trim'. The overall effect was like looking at a bird-barbed wire (and as I was tucked in on a narrow road, I was getting barbed looks from the passing motorists too!)

A phenomenon which can either be interesting or distressing is cetacean stranding. Live strandings, whilst stressful for the creature, with the right care from trained volunteers they can have a successful outcome. Whales, dolphins and porpoises can be successfully returned to the sea.
Unfortunately, sometimes it is too late for a successful rescue, as it was for this common dolphin, which had been thrown over the sea wall by storm waves at Tragumna.

It was clear that this one, a female, had probably died at sea and was subsequently washed up in the carpark. I didn't know how long it had been there but I took the stance that it would be better to report the stranding to the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group rather than assume it had already been reported.
In the event, IWDG's Padraig Whooley and Calvin Jones had already been on the case and their reporting of it has been logged.

Whilst this may seem a distasteful action in some eyes, this data is important in determining the health, welfare and habits of the cetacean population around the coast of Ireland

By the time I saw this stranding, the carcass had been at the location for almost a week, with the elements and predation clearly having taken its toll. Happily, by the next day, the carcass had been removed.

However, I couldn't help but be amazed at the zipper-like set of teeth.

Finally this phenomenon is practically something that occurs all the time but these unusual waves on 3rd March off the West Cork coast were seemingly appearing from nowhere in an otherwise calm sea. Such was the enormity of the waves, I was able to observe them breaking right over the top of the Fastnet Lighthouse, some seventeen miles in the distance. We shouldn't underestimate the power of the sea, as we have seen, the recent storms hitting the coast and doing millions in damage. However, it also has the power of cleansing by taking some of the unfortunate strandings back out to sea for nature to continue with recycling - you could say, one last phenomenon.

Turning New Leaves

A New Year gives a chance to turn new leaves.

What better way to signify it, than to find the fresh green of Arum maculatum, or Lords and Ladies, pushing up through the leaf litter today.
Whilst we can't deny it has been wet and windy of late, it has actually been very mild for the time of year, which in turn has brought on this early growth. This time last year, it was very cold and we had to wait for weeks into February before anything was as advanced as this.

I will enjoy it whilst I can as no doubt in a few days, the weather will once again turn another leaf, be it physically or metaphorically.

Winter Murmurings

For the first time in days, the afternoon had been sunny, and for the first time in weeks, that coincided with a time when I was able to shoot off to a local RSPB reserve at Fen Drayton Lakes a winter home to starlings.

Over the past few years, I have tried to get there whenever I can during the murmuration season, some years being more successful than others. So it was with reserve that I took to the road late this afternoon in the hope I might just catch this spectacle. As I drove, I feared I might just be too late, knowing that once the starlings are down for the night, they really are down. I was a little worried when I saw a small swirling mass already busy in the sky when I arrived at the lakes. Would I have time to get parked up and get my camera out before it would all be over?

To be fair, it is getting quite late in the season for the best of shows, and so to see anything would be a bonus.
Then way over in the distance, beyond the bank of trees, they were spotted. A huge swirling mass of starlings on the horizon and it was clear they weren't going to move in our direction and fly directly over us, as I have experienced there in the past.

No sooner had I trained my lens on them and - bam! They were down. That was it.

So, I was left with the beauty of the sunset. A feint single shaft of sunlight shooting up into the sky as the colours developed. Just so beautiful.

And, with a little patience there is usually an encore, and I wasn't disappointed. Around 15 minutes later, the sounds of the rooks and crows began to get louder and before long, the sky was full of the corvid homecomers. For around fifteen minutes, the sound of these birds masked the sound of the traffic rumbling along the nearby A14, as they all plummeted down and vanished into the darkness of the trees to the east of me.

And now I was just left with the beauty of the blue night sky as it blanketed the warmth of the sunset.

Stunning.

The Hunt for Whale October

Although reluctantly leaving this years fallow deer rut-watch back in East Anglia, I knew I wasn't going to be missing out on some of the nature spectacles that take place during October, as out here in West Cork the whale season has already kicked off. Having spectacularly enjoyed displays from humpback whales here in the past, I was looking forward to further encounters in this corner of the Atlantic, known as Celtic Sea. No need to travel to Iceland, America and the like, it all happens here on our doorstep.

When not in Ireland, I'm easily able to keep up to date with whale activity via the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group
a conservation and research group, so I already knew that the humpbacks had returned to Irish waters this Autumn. Before Friday, they had last been observed off Slea Head on the Kerry coast, so hopes were high that they might have moved 'around the corner' to the waters within easy cruising distance from where we were to depart, at Castlehaven. As always, we were joining the enthusiastic Colin Barnes on the Holly Jo for one of the Cork Whale Watch trips, and wearing my IWDG hat as well as a visitors hat, I would be looking out for signs of any cetacean activity.

From Castlehaven Harbour looking towards the Stag Rocks

The weather had been less than favourable for whale watching for quite some number of days, so as the first trip out for a while, it would be anyones guess as to where to start looking for the whales. Leaving the shelter of the harbour, we made for the Stag Rocks, where shags, black backed gulls and hooded crows perched. The rocks around this landmark with a cleft secret, were unusually devoid of the basking seals which normally slipped into the water as we passed between its jagged fingers. Instead, they had moved to the tiny caves under the imposing rock which is Toe Head, to give birth to and look after their young, as it is also the breeding season for the grey seals.
Fluffy, creamy-white pups nestled at the back of the caves whilst the mums balanced on top of the exposed rocks, giving us a nonchalant wave as we passed by.

A little further west beyond The Stags, we got our first indication of possible activity. Diving gannets busied themselves as we motored closer.

As anticipated, there was associated activity. Diving gannets meant there were fish, and in this case also meant the presence of dolphins...

...and this was all going on in the now choppy waters beneath the headland we call home.

Short beaked common dolphins were bow riding the Holly Jo. Side by side, several mother and calf pairs fearlessly raced in front of the catamaran, whilst ahead of us, more of this pod of dolphins were swimming round and round to form a bait ball gannets and gulls alike taking advantage of this bounty.

As we watched from The Holly Jo, now bobbing engine-less along-side, two minke whales came in from the east. Excitement rose with this first encounter of the day with whales, that it might lead to a bout of lunge feeding. All cameras were focused on the fish/dolphin/bird frenzy waiting for a huge gaping mouth to come in and gulp down the lunch snack conveniently prepared by the dolphins.
And we waited.
Several times the minke swam up and around, seemingly eyeing up the menu but not once did they attempt a lunge at the bait ball. It appeared they weren't hungry enough to gatecrash this party.

As the tide turned, so did the Holly Jo following the 'big' news Colin had received, and we motored off eastwards.

As we drew nearer to the waters around Galley Head, we could see the small trawler belonging to the local fisherman who had called Colin to alert him to the presence of 2 or 3 fin whales, the second largest of all whales. Although reported as 'big' ones it can be surpringly tricky to spot the presence of these large whales, who have the ability to quickly cover larges areas. Twice we missed the tell-tale signs as another call came across that they were right in front of us. And then we saw it. A blow!

A wind-messed column of vapourised sea water lingered in the air long enough for us all to turn towards the area of potential action. Cameras were raised in anticipation but we had caught the last indicator of this latest surfacing and it would be another nine or ten minutes before they would be likely to surface again.

And so once again we waited, the sea conditions now becoming more difficult, with the little Holly Jo bobbing and rolling in the swell, and taking its toll on several of those on board. I breathed deeply, as I was determined not to miss this opportunity to observe these fin whales as I knew that my secret wish for a humpback sighting was going to be fruitless due to being just too early in the season.

Then there they were. A pair of large fin whales surfaced a few hundred metres in front of us. Shutters clicked away as the swell moved our viewing platform up and down, bringing the whales in and out of view. To capture any shot was going to be a bit of an achievement but I managed a run of four shots, the one above being 'the best of the day'.
You already know from previous posts that I am a realist when it comes to wildlife photography, and I know it can take years to achieve the perfect shots. Sadly, this fin image was a little too oblique to be able to use for identification purposes but I was just delighted that we had had this encounter with these impressive creatures. Delighted also, that after four fruitless whale trips over a number of years, himself had finally managed to observe whales too, and he was happy (if rather green).

By now, my sailing mates Stuge and Ron were doing everything in their power to keep me happy, and not wishing to push my luck any further, I settled myself down quietly on the bench behind the wheelhouse as we began to long roly-poly journey back. In my half asleep state, I was aware we had slowed, and thinking this was the harbour approaching, I paid little attention, only to find out later that there had been fin whales motoring alongside the boat just a few metres away.
You can't win them all!

After what seemed an age, my senses then went into overdrive, even with my eyes closed, I knew we had arrived at land - I could smell it! It was a smell I recalled from the very first time I sailed into Ireland nearly twenty years ago, and a smell I have smelled almost every time I have sailed in since then. For me, it is a comforting homely smell, for others, just the smell of muck-spread fields but on this particular day, it indicated the end of a successful trip to encounter these amazing monsters of the sea.

                                                                                 * * * * * *

If you would like to see fin whale action from the Holly Jo but don't have sea legs, then you are in luck!

BBC1 is currently airing a series called The Great British Year where it reveals a portrait of the dynamic nature of Britain over the course of one year. The final episode to be screened on 23rd October covers Autumn, and back last year, the film crew went aboard the Holly Jo with Colin, to capture the fin whale footage that will be shown (check out images 10 & 11)

Day 23 - August Challenge

Challenge - "Seasonal plums that you have picked from a local tree."

Suggested by - Paul via Twitter

How more seasonal than greengages, and how more local than from the old tree at the end of our garden?

With our Victorian house came a greengage tree, one of the many fruit trees portioned out onto house plots from a large parcel of land and which had once been the orchard of a large house. The house and land use ultimately giving our road its name. Every August since we have been here, it has provided fruit crops in various quantities. In the mid-90s, we had such a bumper crop that sadly, we lost three limbs of the tree under the weight of the fruit. Other years, the wasps have made the most of the diminutive crop. However, what we have been able to accomplish over the years, is many jars of jam, and delicious it is too!

During the past few days, I have regularly been feeling the plums ...and before you go there, I will qualify! I wanted to ensure that the greengages would be at their best for picking today. And so they were. On my return home this evening I went the short distance down our garden to pick from a crop which is now sadly, a shadow of previous years. They may not be big fruit, and they may not be perfect skinned, but it was still hard for me not munch my way through the scrumptious subject of my shoot. Thankfully, I resisted, and left some of the fruit on my kitchen table whilst I went back into the fading light of the evening, to pick a bumper crop of blackberries.

More jam on the way!

The grab shot

My thanks to:

Paul for the suggestion
Mother nature for the harvest

Tomorrow, Day 24

"Allotment site record"

Feeling Hot?

We mustn't complain about the heat as finally we are experiencing a touch of summer. However, my biggest issue right now is keeping mutt cool, and today, on a day when I heard that yet another dog owner had left their pet in the car for two hours (?!!!) and then dashed to the vet to ask if they could help their already dead dog (!!!), I was, as always, mindful of mutt + car.

However, I did venture out in the car on a 10 minute drive with the windows wide open, to get to one of my favourite walks, knowing that most of the walk is along tree-lined bridleways, and in the relative shade.

Along the walk, I pass the little meadow corner where back in May I observed the emerging leaves of the common spotted orchid and vowed to return to see it in full flower.

Fail!

By the time of this visit, it had already gone to seed, just like at the grass surrounding it. Then I realised how time had whizzed by since I was last at this little corner of nature heaven.
Still, the knapweed (above) was dazzling and playing host to the pollen beetles, butterflies flitted, sometimes even as conjoined couples, bees buzzed and crickets chirped. From the trees, the calls of the yellow hammer and the chiff-chaff punctuated the amazing hum coming from roasting grass around me. By now, Mutt had retreated and flopped under the shade of the surrounding trees, whilst I took in the view again. No longer all green as it was in May, but instead, a sandy tinged meadow, a sure sign of the summer progressing.

Simple pleasures.




Please do be aware during this spell of high temperatures, dogs can quickly die in hot cars.

Late May

Greater Stitchwort Stellaria holostea

We have all been aware of the completely barmy weather, wildlife and nature problems of late, and we are all fed up with guessing when Spring might turn up. Well, this morning I made the most of a beautiful morning, taking mutt for a walk in my favourite woods. Clearly we brought the good weather back with us from West Cork, and I'm not complaining!

I happily listened to the songs of the Chiff-chaff and Blackcap, punctuated by the 'keee' of the Buzzard up above, whilst down below, I marvelled in the creamy waist-high lace of the Cow Parsley surrounding me like a skirt as I walked through the deer paths. The Bluebells, although now fading, still gave a blue haze through this vegetative lace, lit by the dappled sunlight through the fresh green leaves.

The beauty of this English woodland walk compared with the beauty of a West Cork coastal walk, although different in feel, are both equal in my mind and I enjoy them in their turn. However, today I noted clear signs of this seasonal madness we have been enduring.

The fields of rape have germinated poorly, and where left to grow rather than being ploughed in as a bad crop, have flowered a whole month later than the last few years.

The Hawthorn Crategus monogyna is in most parts, struggling to live up to it's name as 'May blossom'. Buds are still tight and are notable by their absence in general.

Even the ever-hardy Common Nettle Urtica dioica appears to drooping under the strain.
















However, there were still glimmers of delight when I looked a little closer.

The intense blue of the tiny flowers of the Germander Speedwell Veronica chamaedrys punctuated the green of the path verge.

The vivid pink heads of the slightly mis-named Red Campion Silene dioica popped above the swaying grass.

But the best secret, hidden away in the mixed vegetation of the meadow corner, were the darkly spotted leaves of a beauty yet to flower. The Common Spotted Orchid Dactylorhiza fuchsii.















I will certainly be back to catch these in flower, although who knows whether they will be on time, or late just as many flowers currently are. Still, that doesn't matter to me, as it means all the more reason to go back to my favourite woods, and I'm sure mutt won't mind either.

Do Not Disturb...

Spring is Sprung, the grass is riz.

I Wonder where the (lady)boidies is?

Shhhh! Better not disturb them!

Has Spring Sprung?

I have been watching and waiting, and now the beady eyes are watching me, watching them.

And the question to be asked is, has Spring sprung?

After what has to be one of the most miserable winters for years, we are all eagerly waiting for Spring and keen to watch out for the signs.

The self-set primrose in my garden has been manifest in the production of cheerfulness for a good few weeks now - come rain; come shine. Or in most cases, come snow.

After a few slightly milder days and a comparative heatwave yesterday, with temperatures nudging 20 degrees, the 'bread and cheese' trees, or hawthorn to most folk, have started to give the hedgerow a green haze.

Volume levels have increased at the pond as the frogs engage in the annual ritual of amplexus. Then, in between the 'froggy-tandems' the masses of newts punctuate proceedings with a feint tick sound as they come to the pond surface for air.

In amongst the writhing masses of frogs, the spawn clumps are appearing on a daily basis.

So, has Spring finally sprung?

I sincerely hope so!