Horrid autumn- the supporting cast

So, part of the experiment was to see how many people saw the tweets and visited Horrid for a bit of early viz-migging themelves. Forecast result matched the actual result. Zero. I was, of course, happy with that. A modern-day Diogenes of Sinope, me. The logistical problems of getting out Horrid early morning are a bit of an off-putter, and, same as in here, I've left the listing games behind only tweet/talk about the common species that interest me. Enough of that for now.

There was a whole early morning Horrid community I discovered.

Thanks to Ranger Simon for often chatting, on his pre-work birding strolls. Probably mainly checking I'd hadn't thrown myself in on the quiet days :-) Seriously, great to know we have park rangers with that much personal interest in birds and more especially in conservation within the park. the rest of the team deserve a mention for putting up with me popping in to bore them with stuff for the sightings board, but Simon is a true early-morning community member.

Next, I'd like to thank the dog walkers. It was, after all, already 'their' site. I was the incomer, and a bit of a pain at that, being allergic to dogs. One or two already knew me, which helped, but the early morning shift there had to make adjustments, as did I. The best bench I wanted , but it belonged to one of the dogs already. First time it jumped up alongside me and expected me to move, I was rather taken aback (it always runs ahead and waits there, knowing it will get a treat from the owner at this point). Compromise, I stayed off the bench when I knew his time was coming, the owner kept the dog away from me if I was sitting nearby. A slow sharing of space.

Of course, it was flippin' annoying these people sometimes got out the point before I did. Meeting them in the half-light as they came off, sometimes being told 'a lot took off' is galling, but that's the fun of a Country Park; it isn't a nature reserve.

Over the months we picked each others' brains on a lot of things. I got to tell them a little about the birds, one even asking about how to get to see the Ospreys being reported. We got on. I got accepted into that early-morning community. Sure, a couple might still be offish, but tolerance.

The cyclists sometimes nodded, but usually kept their speed up. One of the pre-dawn cyclists also sussed we could get on better. The Point isn't actually part of the cyclepath, but is in routine use. Some like to come out all LED lights blazing. This one particular cyclist realised I always turned my back on him, and wrongly thought because I was partially-sighted (my stick). When I explained I was protecting my twilight vision for looking at birds in the half-light, he looked a little bewildered, but from then on always showed the common courtesy of turning down the lights if I was on the path. Middle ground.

The joggers? Well, three things really. Problem one, most you couldn't acknowledge when you passed each other, as they nearly all wear headphones and are in their own bubble. Second, many were single sightings only. Keeping to a running regime is hard. Third, it's amazing how many ease off when they think they can't be seen, and get all embarrassed when they do spot you in the bushes. If they spot you. They'll usually just find a spot in your sightline.

Then the fisher-folk, always worth a chat with; news on how the shoals are behaving helped understand why the Terns were acting differently this year.

Or just the walkers. One chap I chatted with most mornings never let on he knew a bit about birds, we talked on other things. Only sussed he knew more when he told me about how and where he'd just seen Woodcock in the park. (I'll let you muse on that until I cover in another post.)

The minority interests were well represented; the evangelical preacher who practices his vocal levels if thinks alone, the sun-worshipper paying homage to the dawn, the photographer or two coming out to capture the same dawn, the overnight camper who really thought non-one came out before the park opened.. quite a long cast-list. All getting on.

During the day? Then there's a cast of thousands, and the community feel gets lost a bit. One of the meanings of community is sharing a common ownership. Daytime visitors are less willing to engage with the park. More chance of an insensitive so-and-so just indulging self-interests and their entitlements than others around them. But, pre- gate-opening, Horrid has a real community. And it was a pleasure to be accepted as a part of it for a short while.