I can’t resist photographing the the Tufted ducks whenever they visit the Glen Gardens boating lake. The white flanks of the males usually dazzle but this morning…
Even if I hadn’t read Edward Blyth on moulting at breakfast this morning I would have assumed this was the phase he was going through.
I know precious little about “the feathered tribes” and was startled at the complexity of moulting in birds. Edward the Influencer explains:-
from “Seasonal and Other Changes in Birds”, The Magazine of Natural History, Vol 9, 1836, reproduced in Darwin and the Mysterious Mr X, by Loren Eisely, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, New York, 1979.
Numerous as are the writers in this department of zoology…it still appears to me, that the numerous and very diversified regular changes of plumage and general external appearance, observable in this interesting subclass of animals, have been hitherto very greatly and strangely overlooked, and that, in consequence, the many valuable physiological inferences deducible from their investigation have been quite lost to the purposes of science and of classification.
It is true that many naturalists have in so far attended to the mutations of plumage which some particular species undergo, as that they are able at once to recognize them in every livery they assume; but the exact ages, and seasons, of molting; the precise nature of the general, or only partial change that is undergone, and the various accordances and dissimilarities observable between the changes of distinct species; the endless characters of agreement and difference, so important in pointing out affinities, in showing what apparently similar races could never be brought to hybridize together; would seem to have been passed over as unworthy of notice, as undeserving of particular investigation.
…It is to be remarked, then, that some species of birds (as, for example, the larks and starlings, the crows, the woodpeckers, and various others) molt the whole of their immature, or nestling, plumage the first year, including the wing and tail primaries; while a very few (as the bearded pinnock, Calamophilus biarmicus, and rose mufflin [Parus caudatus Linnaeus], Mecistura rosea) shed the primary feathers of the tail the first season, but not those of the wing: numerous other races (as all the modifications of the fringillisous and thrush types) molt their clothing plumage very soon after leaving the nest, and retain the primaries till the second autumn; the Falconidae, again, and some others, undergo no change whatever until that period. All those which I have as yet mentioned change their feathers only once in the year, towards the close of summer, immediately on the cessation of the duties towards their progeny: but there are various other tribes (as the wagtails and pipits, Motacillinae, and most of the aquatic races) which regularly undergo another general molting in the spring; though in no instance, that I am aware, are the primary wing feathers shed more than once in the year; those of the tail, however, in some rare instances are; and the different coverts, together with the second and tertiary wing feathers, in most, if not all, double-molting birds, are changed twice. In some migrative species (as the cuckoo, and most of the swallows), the young of the year do not change their plumage until the winter months; whereas the old birds molt in the autumn; and in other birds, again (as in various ducks), two general changes of feather take place within the short period of about four months. Very many other similar diversities, of a more or less subordinate character, might be enumerated, if enough have not already been mentioned to show that a wide field for observation is here open to the practical ornithologist.
There have been two pairs of Tufted ducks on the lake during human lock down but the chap pictured was on his own this morning.
Tree 39 · Martin’s Ravine
It may be lockdown lethargy, or the brain fog many are suffering whilst sheltering in place – I’ve lost my impetus where genealogy and family history are concerned. But I can still juggle happily with numbers for hours on end. Disappointed with the appearance of a graph showing temperature differences this year in the two hemispheres (relative to the Pre-industrial baseline), I sought a whole measure smaller than a degree centigrade or Fahrenheit and found one. I have called it an “IPCC unit”.
The International Panel on Climate Change issued a paper at the time of the Paris Accord that declared the global average temperature had risen one-degree centigrade above Pre-Industrial by 2017. It suggested a further half a degree rise by 2040 – to the 1.5°C limit that should be avoided at all costs.
Assuming an unwavering linear rise, we are looking at a modest-seeming 0.0217°C per annum. (I reckon that to be 0.0391 degrees in Fahrenheit money.)
Creating the graph using IPCC units gives this picture of weekly temperature relative to Pre-Industrial, reported by my Ten Stations over the last thirteen weeks.
I have kept it as simple as possible to make it clear that the northern stations are responsible for all the above-average global warming in this time period and the southern stations for all but a tiny bit of the cooling.
Koltsovo has warmed at over 250 times the rate projected by the IPCC. Rio de Janeiro is the “coolest” of the stations.
Koltsovo has cooled by about 55 IPCC units over the thirteen weeks. That’s about 1.2°C, down from 7.8°C above Pre-Industrial to 6.6 degrees. (Global warming isn’t a hoax in Russia.)
Rio’s average weekly mean temperature over this period was 25.6°C but it cooled about 12 IPCC units, or 0.25°C, from 0.19 to 0.44 degrees BELOW Pre-Industrial.
Shanghai is the northern station that is closely tracking the hemisphere average.
The Ten Station Globe has dropped from 2.09°C above Pre-Industrial in Week 8 to 1.89 degrees in week 20. It is, however, a long drop to a rise of only a single IPCC unit by the end of the meteorological year.
Metal 11 · Roundabout
My main concessions to lockdown have been to take my cameras for a walk once a day rather than twice, and go hunting for food once a week. I have more time to sit at the computer but spend much of it trying to understand the extraordinary event we are all experiencing. Living history is rather more exciting than raking over the past, and Filey genealogy is a casualty of the Virus War.
I still have an appetite for family history though, and given that my number may be called soon it seems more appropriate to pick up the threads of my own people.
When I fled Cold Comfort Cottage twelve years ago I brought a few sticks of furniture to Filey, including two bookcases. One was my father’s, the other mine. Both began their working lives in my childhood home – and both had been well made by Lorry. I know, he was probably Laurie. He wasn’t a blood relative but was married to Phyllis. They visited us maybe once a year, were quiet and pleasant. My rudimentary Roots Magic database tells me that Phyllis is a first cousin once removed. Our common ancestors are my great grandparents Henry LOCKETT and Mary Ann MORGAN.
Mary Ann is almost alone amongst my forebears in having an air of romance and mystery. In one source she claims to have been born in France, in another the Channel Islands. Sort of romantic. The mystery is enshrined in a hand-me-down story that her father saved a number of people from a wrecked ship, rowing out in his small boat like a male Grace Darling and being rewarded with a memorial somewhere on Guernsey. Or maybe Jersey. I don’t know his first name. It may not be a true story.
Phyllis was the only daughter of Elizabeth Ann LOCKETT and William Henry Phillip SMAWFIELD. I remember my dad telling tales about his Aunt Lizzie Smawfield. She was a character though I don’t recall ever meeting her. (I was eight-years-old when she died.) She was William Smawfield’s second wife. The first was the Elizabeth of Picturesque Terrace who married at eighteen, bore a daughter that died almost immediately, and then slipped away herself the following year. There is a photograph of Picturesque Terrace online but it isn’t the “seriously ironic” place she called home. Astonishingly, Hull had two Picturesque Terraces. Elizabeth’s was in Manchester Street and no longer exists – having been obliterated by hideous modern warehouses and engineering sheds.
Find Elizabeth on the Shared Tree.
Bird 77 · Tufted Duck
Observing social distance. This morning there was just one male Tufty on the lake, looking rather apprehensive in the middle of a gang of mallard drakes.
I shared Filey Sands today with one man, his dog and a seal. Until I can walk long distances again, and freely, I’ll incorporate Today’s Images in “standard” posts.