A Tale About Storks Part 1
The storks are back!
Three weeks ago I sighted my first stork of the year gliding through the sky in front of our high rise apartment block, right on the edge of town. I spotted the first couple foraging in the nearby field a few days later, and had heard bill-clattering welcome greetings several times in the distance.
Having a break from the rather awful April weather, I got on my bike on the first sunny opportunity. Patches of blue sky lined by huge fluffy white clouds, it was eleven degrees Celcius, with just a breeze of wind. Unaware at first of the very black and threatening rain clouds also up there in the sky, I thought it a perfect day to check out the nearest three stork nests.
Packing a note book, a pen and my brand new pair of binoculars, I set off down the narrow cycling track that virtually starts on my doorstep. Winding through a cultural-historical, open landscape of hay meadows and nutrient-rich meandering streams, it’s a nice track to cycle along. Sheltered by a copse of trees, and overlooking the meadows with its pretty brook, the first nest pole is only five-hundred meters down the track.
Two or three years ago, the private owners had the old nest pole repaired. They also had it relocated a little further back in their garden. Not to their liking, the storks promptly rejected it, and my expectations were therefore rather low. How happily surprised and pleased I was to find that the nest was occupied again. Finally, how wonderful, I thought. Only half visible, a single stork was sitting on the nest. Whilst fumbling to get my notebook out, I suddenly heard clattering sounds though. Getting my head out of the bike pannier, I saw that a second bird had stood up. Preening themselves a bit first, the pair then played out one of their typical bill-clattering bonding rituals before settling down again.
Jotting down some notes, and taking a few photos – not doing any justice to the pretty sight as I can’t get close enough and only have a mobile phone camera – I cycled on to nest number two. Another half a kilometre away, somewhat off the cobbled road I was on by now, it is situated in a small meadow in front of an old farmstead. One stork on the nest, no other one in sight.
Nest number three, my favourite one by far, is a bare kilometre further along. Following the same pretty brook again, the small corner of ancient landscape here is peaceful, almost tranquil. Up ahead, the nest pole is virtually next to the cycling path. I love this place, and I was looking forward to sitting on the bench nearby and soaking up the pretty sight of nesting storks close by. Crossing the little bridge, I suddenly realized with dismay that the nest pole wasn’t there any longer! Getting off my bike, I looked around, confused and probably stupidly hoping it would somehow miraculously reappear. It didn’t. Disappointed, dejected even, I sat down on the bench - at least they haven’t taken that away, I remember thinking grumpily - and got out my phone to search for a local newspaper article that would tell me what happened to my favourite nesting pole.
To be continued …
The storks are back!
Three weeks ago I sighted my first stork of the year gliding through the sky in front of our high rise apartment block, right on the edge of town. I spotted the first couple foraging in the nearby field a few days later, and had heard bill-clattering welcome greetings several times in the distance.
Having a break from the rather awful April weather, I got on my bike on the first sunny opportunity. Patches of blue sky lined by huge fluffy white clouds, it was eleven degrees Celcius, with just a breeze of wind. Unaware at first of the very black and threatening rain clouds also up there in the sky, I thought it a perfect day to check out the nearest three stork nests.
Packing a note book, a pen and my brand new pair of binoculars, I set off down the narrow cycling track that virtually starts on my doorstep. Winding through a cultural-historical, open landscape of hay meadows and nutrient-rich meandering streams, it’s a nice track to cycle along. Sheltered by a copse of trees, and overlooking the meadows with its pretty brook, the first nest pole is only five-hundred meters down the track.
Two or three years ago, the private owners had the old nest pole repaired. They also had it relocated a little further back in their garden. Not to their liking, the storks promptly rejected it, and my expectations were therefore rather low. How happily surprised and pleased I was to find that the nest was occupied again. Finally, how wonderful, I thought. Only half visible, a single stork was sitting on the nest. Whilst fumbling to get my notebook out, I suddenly heard clattering sounds though. Getting my head out of the bike pannier, I saw that a second bird had stood up. Preening themselves a bit first, the pair then played out one of their typical bill-clattering bonding rituals before settling down again.
Jotting down some notes, and taking a few photos – not doing any justice to the pretty sight as I can’t get close enough and only have a mobile phone camera – I cycled on to nest number two. Another half a kilometre away, somewhat off the cobbled road I was on by now, it is situated in a small meadow in front of an old farmstead. One stork on the nest, no other one in sight.
Nest number three, my favourite one by far, is a bare kilometre further along. Following the same pretty brook again, the small corner of ancient landscape here is peaceful, almost tranquil. Up ahead, the nest pole is virtually next to the cycling path. I love this place, and I was looking forward to sitting on the bench nearby and soaking up the pretty sight of nesting storks close by. Crossing the little bridge, I suddenly realized with dismay that the nest pole wasn’t there any longer! Getting off my bike, I looked around, confused and probably stupidly hoping it would somehow miraculously reappear. It didn’t. Disappointed, dejected even, I sat down on the bench - at least they haven’t taken that away, I remember thinking grumpily - and got out my phone to search for a local newspaper article that would tell me what happened to my favourite nesting pole.
To be continued …
