Smug

I felt anything but smug when I woke up this morning (later than usual, after yesterday's route march around Farmoor), opened the curtains and found that the lane was full of National Grid vehicles. We'd been warned twice, first by our neighbours and then by National Grid themselves, that they were going to turn off the electricity supply today so they could replace one of the poles that carries the overhead power cables across the village, but despite it being in the diary, both of us had forgotten. By now it was 8.24am, and the power was due to go off at 9. I scrambled R, who was still sleeping the sleep of the righteous, and we scuttled through showers, tea, toast, some de-crease tumble drying of an overnight wash, and powering down the computers, just before everything went dark and quiet.

All through this process I was mentally face-palming about the fact that I took a day out yesterday to go to Farmoor, when clearly the sensible thing would have been to get stuff done at home yesterday, knowing that I'd pretty much have to go out today. Sigh. As it was, I ended up going out today anyway, because there's only so much darkness and quietude even I can stand. 

I decided to tackle Draycote Water, not because I like it (I don't), but because it offered 12,000 steps and a long-staying Red-throated Diver. And I did find the Diver, 7,500 steps in, though only because I knew exactly what I was looking for: a small grey and white bird, barely any bigger than a Mallard, preening itself in the middle of a large expanse of water, doesn't exactly draw the eye. I've kept one heavily cropped photo, which must have all of about two dozen pixels of blurry grey in the middle of a block of otherwise solid blue, but only in case the record is queried when I submit it.

Instead, please accept this male Goosander, giving me what I couldn't help thinking was a very self-satisfied sideways look. These birds are so high-contrast, especially in the kind of strong light that was bathing the reservoir this afternoon, that you have to push the processing further than I'm comfortable with to get any detail into their plumage, but what saves this shot for me is that flash of red legs and feet through the water, balancing the red of the bird's bill. Plus the smug smirk, obviously. 

My second photo shows the same drake with his missus, whose subservient attitude might just explain why he was looking so pleased with himself. I saw several pairs of Goosanders along the same stretch of reservoir, and this attitude was quite common among the females, so it must be part of their pair bonding ritual. However I was pleased to see a couple of them contriving a neat bit of multitasking, in which they stretched out their bodies submissively alongside their menfolk, while simultaneously dipping their heads underneath the surface to look for prey. Husbands are all very well in their place and season, but it's important to nourish the inner sawbill too.