We drive through a spectacular steep mountain valley, the sides wooded at first, but as we drive further along give way to steeper stone cliffs and slopes with ancient and beautiful rock formations, interspersed with shrubby grass land. The misty cloud shrouds the mountain tops in receding shades of grey, opening sometimes to give glimpses of further valleys beyond.
We park for coffee, overlooking a vista of fields and mountains. Five huge birds, raptors, appear, gliding in circles above us. Are they waiting for thermals? We can see them clearly from where we are, sitting comfortably in RosieMay. The perfect hide, with coffee, sofas, lunch, loo...and the Collins Field Guide open next to us for identification. Chris takes multiple camera shots out of the open window, hoping for the definitive one that will help us to identify them. Though in September in the Pyrenees, migration time, ARJ or Bill Oddie would be more helpful than Collins. Here are some of the options we mull over:
Lammergeier, rare, wingspan as wide as a barn door. Griffon Vulture, Egyptian Vulture, another flying barn door, but rare too. Golden Eagle, not so rare here, very large. Booted Eagle, Short Toed Eagle, Black or Red Kite, not quite so big. Size is deceptive when light is poor. Chris will bring out any colour picked up by the camera in his best shots later.
Ten minutes later, OK , now we have them! Thirty or more have dropped in, right in front of us, landing in twos and threes. They seem to be landing on top of one another, eager to get to the prize, whatever it is. Griffon Vultures we think. They continue to arrive and land, heavily, clumsily, all heaping up together, on what? A dead sheep, or cow probably. Another five or six, must be nearer forty altogether now or possibly more. They look odd as they run on the ground, necks stretched out, not quite in control of their feet.
Later, a flock of twenty or so choughs tumble and play in the air, calling characteristically, but not near enough to see what colour their bills and legs are. They land and dig about in the grass.
We watched a DVD last night, Love in a Cold Climate, with Judy Dench, a TV series from the eighties. Very dated in every way, but we enjoyed it, sitting enthroned in the turned-round front seats, eating peaches and chocolate. The batteries in the remote are dead, we have bought some more from the hardware shop, en ville. The word for battery is the same in French and in English, just spelled differently. The woman in the garage where we fill up with diesel tells us it will be hot and sunny tomorrow, no question about it.
This evening back at the site we have warm sunshine again, so we will eat outside and enjoy the Pyrenean view. The diesel lady was right.
No comments:
Post a Comment