R and I took temporary possession of the Boy Wonder in the car park at Slimbridge this morning. He was still obviously a bit viral – wan, taciturn, and more fragile and contrary than usual – but offered the choice of going straight back to our house he decided that on balance he’d quite like to go to the café and Welly Boot Land first, so that’s what we did. And it turned out to have been a good decision, because about half way through the afternoon he suddenly and unexpectedly perked up and began enjoying himself.
Also enjoying himself was this male Goldeneye, who was displaying on one of the collection ponds close to Welly Boot Land, when I scooted over there to try to grab a duck photo just before we left Slimbridge. I was on the clock at the time, because R and the Boy were already wending their way towards the car park and I didn’t want to keep them waiting, so the fact that the Goldeneye resolutely kept his back turned towards me was a little annoying, and this is definitely not my finest work. Still though, I think it’s quite fun. Goldeneyes surely have one of the strangest courtship rituals of any British bird, but it never fails to charm me. There’s a more descriptive photo here of the back-bend, which is impressive enough in itself, but when they add the upward kick as well I always award them extra points for commitment. There’s a good film here that includes both courtship and mating rituals; and you can play the male’s football rattle call here – though to get a proper idea of what it’s like out in the wild you need to turn up the volume on your phone or computer till your neighbours start to complain.
Back at home we played out in the garden, swinging and blowing bubbles, and then watched The Wrong Trousers yet again. “This is the fun bit!” said the Boy as the chase sequence began, and then “This is the most fun bit!” when Gromit began laying the extra track. By now I think I could just about write a frame-by-frame analysis of this animation – and if I fell short, B could almost certainly help me out.
