Dipper courtship

 I watched this pair of dippers courting along a stretch of the river Wear near Wolsingham in Weardale earlier this week. It's very difficult to tell the sexes apart but I'm pretty sure that's the male on the right, with his body stretched upwards. The female is fanning her tail and fluttering her wings. There's some brief wing fluttering going on in the second picture too. 

The distinctive white eyelid of  the bird that is blinking shows nicely.

Apart from this posturing, courtship seemed to mainly consist of the male pursuing the female up and down the river. Dippers always nest here, under an overhanging rock on the riverbank, and have a well-defined territory; rival pairs tend to confront each other at territorial boundaries early in the season, and usually turn back when they reach a rival's territory. They also sing with notes that are pitched at a level where they can be heard above the tumult of the river.

 These old Cotoneaster bushes are rooted in fissures in the limestone cliff behind Ashes quarry are Stanhope, in Weardale. Cotoneaster is a genus with many species, mostly from Eastern Asia, that has long been cultivated in Britain for its attractive berries in autumn; these plants would undoubtedly been of garden origin, originally arriving in the quarry in bird droppings. Although almost all berries in the dale have now been eaten by birds, this heavy crop remains almost untouched. This happens every year, and there is no obvious reason why birds should not have taken them. Maybe a flock of redwings or fieldfares will find them soon.

 

Sleeping beauty awakes

 This lovely peacock butterfly must have found its way into the house, unnoticed, during the very mild weather last October, and has been hibernating here ever since. It woke up late one evening a couple of weeks ago. After settling for a while on the television screen, it flew into the kitchen and began drinking water from a damp washing-up sponge. Central heating must have made it thirsty.

 

When it settled again it performed its well-known defensive trick of flicking its wings open and closed, creating a hissing sound when the rough hind edge of the forewing rubbed against the rough front edge of the hind wing.

It might not have survived the winter in the house, either because the spiders might have found it, or if had woken again and exhausted itself fluttering against the window. So, after acclimatising it to outdoor temperatures in the greenhouse for a couple of days, I let it crawl into a large terracotta flower pot, laid on its side in the shelter of the garden conifer hedge. If it wakes again before spring there are nectar-rich flowers of hellebores and pulmonarias in the garden for it to feed on.