Finished, and thoughts on the flycatcher
A few posts ago there was a sneak preview of my latest daubing, and today it was completed. I could have carried on adding layers, tweaking leaves and embellishing the owl, but there came a point where enough was enough. My next piece is a long-promised picture for my sister-in-law. She might just get it by 2017...
Meanwhile, down at Dungeness, the dust has settled. The Acadian (for that is almost certainly what it was) Flycatcher remained until dusk on its day of discovery, but decided to move on (or succumb to the efforts of its journey) and has not been seen since. BBC film crews have been down to obtain footage for the regional news, newspapers have run sidebar stories about the 'first for Britain' and Martin Casemore has no doubt been bemused by his current celebrity status. It couldn't have happened to a more dedicated and unassuming bloke - I just hope that some of his magic dust comes my way when I'm down there later in the autumn.
Part of the romantic in me likes to think that somewhere, maybe in a parallel universe, such birds and the gatherings that they attract are maintained as a permanent visual record. If there were such a thing then we could see the 1975 Crested Lark striding around the Britannia Pub car park being twitched by long-haired, denim clad birders with draw-pull brass telescopes; the 1916 Cream-coloured Courser is still coursing over the shingle towards the Oppen Pits with its sole observer (HG Alexander) in attendance; and the sea-watch hide is full of an excitable, if motley collection of Kent's finest, as they marvel at the 2001 Black-browed Albatross. Such birds leave behind traces, as do those who were fortunate enough to see them, particularly the finders. Well, I'd like to think so, anyway.