So there I was having a casual stroll through Richmond Park the other day, taking the usual route through Holly Lodge and around to the Horse Paddocks; the latter of which sometimes holds a showy Little Owl or two. The weather was pretty usual; windy and cold. In fact, it was all run-of-the-mill stuff, apart from the fact that there was a male Wheatear along the path ahead. This is not usual, and I did a double-take at first. 171 days straight without a hint of a Wheatear, and then suddenly one hits you right in the face. I genuinely wasn't ready for it. Never before has the sight of such a small, wind-swept, freezing cold, blurry blob mean't so much to me.
I like this Wheatear. He's got guts. I think I'm going to call him Greg. Don't ask why.
Now how about a Swallow, or am I pushing the boat out a bit too far with that one?