Notes from an Outskirt of Ankara and Heidelberg

At last, snow! Not that I particularly like the stuff (it interferes with running once it freezes), but it is desperately needed. Last autumn, our second here, was so very dry, as had been the summer and spring before it. The wild plants flowered early and briefly. Their appearance was too short for some of the local butterflies and doubtless other insects. The wasp and bee populations was greatly diminished from those of the previous year. The European Bee Eaters did not appear as they had in the fall of 2006, so the skies overhead were empty of their flashing colours and whooping calls. The beautiful, blue globe-flowered thistles that in 2006 had flowered continuously and heavily throughout August, September and October, feeding lots of small seed-eating birds like goldfinches, this last year bloomed scantily, with tiny globes. And then by the end of August, all were finished. The fieldfares arrived (it seemed to me) rather late this year (not until early December) and in fewer numbers than last year. The great tits and a couple of pairs of blackbirds arrived around the same time as before; the starlings also returned, but are definitely fewer in number. There are a few grey wagtails that feed around a channelled water course, which in turn feeds a dammed lake. Among the wagtails I have seen a pair of plovers. I haven't been able to do more than recognize their basic shape and habits because I see them only on one of my runs. The lake (or reservoir) shrank by about two metres over the summer and has yet to recover; but it is playing host to some ten ducks and one or two cranes. None of these birds spend time around this lake during the summer months. Or at least they haven't yet.
We spent a few days in Heidelberg over the winter break, courtesy of an old friend. It was a delight to run along the river Neckar, even with the bitter, raw cold that accompanied every day. The wooded hills were rimed with heavy frost and the air over the river was cloudy with condensation. Running along the river allowed me to become re-acquainted with some of the common birds of my youth. On the river were lots of common and black-headed gulls, four or five cormorants - which was a big surprise, so far inland, and a ringed pair of Egyptian Geese, with their sooty eyes and russet pink markings. Beside the river, twittering in the overhanging branches of alders and other trees, were long-tailed tits and a scattering of blue tits. Darting in and around the lower lying bushes was the odd robin and wren. Padding on and pecking at the beds of dead reeds floating by the side of the river were several moorhens and the occasional pigeon. Blackbirds abounded, poking their way through the leaf litter. But the crowning glory of our bird sighting was that of the kingfisher. Twice! The first time skimming over the water close by the river bank, instantly recognizable by its irridescent torquoise back. The second time, the day before we returned home was yet more wonderful. First we saw it once again skimming above the water; then it flew up into and perched on a leafless branch, overhanging the water. There it sat, first frontally, then in profile - displaying all of its colours and contours for a full photo opportunity! (Of course, we had not got the camera!)