Another Fishlake surprise

One of the most surprising sightings on Fishlake Meadows happened on the 30th of September when ringers trapped and ringed a first year male Bluethroat. These birds, most likely from central Europe, should be off to North Africa or India to overwinter, but odd ones get lost, and this one had the good grace to turn up tantalisingly close.
I don't think anyone other than those involved in ringing actually got to see this bird, although the lucky ringers got to see it twice as it was recaptured a couple of days later. My own searches remained fruitless so I am indebted to Simon Ingram who provided this fine photo.

A splendid find.  My own walks didn't produce very much at all in the way of photographs or unusual birds, in fact on one occasion I have never known the meadows so quiet. Maybe the ringing exercise had made things wary, but the only surprise was the number of wrens skulking about in the reedbeds.
I often see a female Roe deer with a three quarter grown youngster in toe at the moment, I think this was her, but the offspring was nowhere to be seen (although at Fishlake, this doesn't mean it wasn't there). This is a typical view.

As the weather was kind, I practised my bird in flight technique on the numerous Grey Herons with limited success, but more by luck than judgement came up with a couple of passable pictures.

Reflecting on Great Crested Grebes

On the waterways of Norfolk we were rarely out of sight of a Great Crested Grebe, and they are surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, used to boat traffic and take very little notice of them. These close up views allow you to see the subtle variation in plumage as juveniles grow and adults move towards winter plumage. I did find very quickly that telephoto lenses and moving boats make poor companions and as a result generally took only a few pictures from the boat, and usually when we were parked up.

The shots below were in Hoverton Little Broad where we anchored up for lunch, and where the shelter from the bushes and bright sunlight behind gave rare and perfect conditions for mirror like reflections. I was really pleased with these:

Ahoy there! A couple of firsts for me.

Last week the world around me was largely aquatic. We took to the slow running waters of the north Norfolk broads and lived on board the flash looking little number below (seen brilliantly parked up by me at How Hill).
For those unacquainted with nautical terms see glossary below.

Nautical term:  English translation

Bow: Pointy end
Stern: Blunt end
Mooring: Parking spaces          
Mooring up: Parking
Cruising: Driving
Loop with double half hitch: An easy knot      (to get wrong)
Below decks: A challengingly small space downstairs
Bilge pump: A sort of random alarm call during the night
Boat hook: Effective tool provided for repelling invaders
Mop: A less effective tool for repelling invaders
Wash: Waves (alt. an interesting experience in the shower)
Berths: 2 x the sleeping space available

On the first day I didn't want to travel too far having never actually driven anything much bigger than a canoe on the water before and was a little concerned about parking (especially reverse parking) despite the very good tuition from the guy from the boat yard (who happened to be a twitcher) who basically explained that steering largely doesn't work in reverse.
The nice thing about this boat is that the steering wheel is on top which is reasonably high and gives you good views over the reedbeds, marshes and fields, which is a definite boon if you want to see the wildlife. Anyway, we decided to park (I mean moor up) at St Benet's Abbey about an hours drive (cruise) from our starting point at Ludham. As it happened, and maybe moor by luck than judgement, I slid into a parking place like a pro with a sense of tremendous pride and tried to look cool as though I did this every day.
During the calm and quiet evening we watched a Barn Owl hunting along the far bank (which wasn't a very far bank) and then a couple of Marsh Harriers, a Grey Heron or two, several Great Crested Grebes, a few Mute Swans, and listened to any number of Cettis Warbler. A trickle of Swallows and House Martins kept passing over, I imagine getting quite anxious to be on their way for their winter holidays in far flung places and warmer climes.
The first night I slept like a log. Happily logs generally float. Awaking early, I squeezed out of my bed, fought with my clothes and ventured above decks to check on the weather which wasn't too bad as it happened, although I couldn't see much as the sun wasn't up. A cup of coffee later and I watched the sun climb above the horizon into the waiting thick blanket of cloud, dousing the lovely early morning light. Still it was dry and warm, calm and quiet, and I had a lovely view of the still water, broken only by... I blinked my blurry eyes.... that was an Otter! The first Otter I have ever seen in the wild, and a sight I had given up hope of ever seeing. I scanned and scanned and waited and waited but it had disappeared.
A Marsh Harrier however had reappeared close by and we sat and watched it bouncing on gentle wing beats along the edge of the reeds when suddenly, right below it, the Otter bobbed up from a small ditch which it must have been exploring. With indecent haste I shot downstairs for my camera and managed a few shots in the gloomy light as it fished its way downstream, spending more time below than above water.

The noise of the shutter seemed to catch its attention, and for a magical moment, it stared right at me before sliding back into its fish laden element

 We watched it carry on fishing right into the distance until it disappeared and we turned our attention to the important matter of breakfast during which I wondered if I had just dreamt the images I had just seen. But no, they were on my camera. Not only that, it was heading back along the far bank again!
I lost it as I fumbled to set up the camera and the ever watchful Heron laughed at me.

Maybe he had picked up the trail of bubbles that I just had. This is what an Otter looks like underwater:

and this above:

 Amazingly this was one of four Otter sightings we had that day, three others in the evening at Cockshoot Broad when I was cameraless. We glimpsed two following each other very close by, but couldn't find them again. My first day afloat and four Otters, how many would the rest of the week bring? Answer.. none. We just had one of those luckiest of lucky days.