After the wettest August ever – announced a good three days before the end of the month, too – we’ve now had miraculously dry weather for most of September. Which is why I was confused to hear the patter of what sounded like rain on my jacket as I rode out on the bike this morning. Looking down, I found the answer scattered all over my legs: not rain, but bugs. And more than a little squall of them too, more like a steady drizzle. By the time I got to the papershop I had them in my eyes, my mouth, probably up my nose, on my glasses – if this continues, I’ll have to clean my lenses with the bug removal spray you get for windscreens.
We need them though. Down at the coast, the house martens were hoovering them up in one last feeding frenzy before they head off south. The reason why we get such abundant bird life round here is that we have such abundant bug life at the bottom of the food chain. I tried to remember that, as I cycled home. But mainly I just tried to remember to keep my mouth shut as I struggled up the hills.
And talking of bird life, no sooner does Bystander post this, than I saw a pair of our own red kites quartering the hills on my route home. They were reintroduced a fair way west of us, but have been dispersing steadily into the surrounding countryside ever since. No bugs for them; road kill’s their thing, and when the pheasant-running-over season gets into full swing at the end of the month, they should eat like kings.
Posted by disgruntled 
