recovery

 

Sunday 27th June

I felt pretty bad immediately after the 7 Hills Race. But the sun was out and it was a pleasant afternoon. I was hopped up on caffeine and wondered what to do with myself. A relaxed wander along to Warriston seemed the best bet. Could I be bothered? My legs hadn't seized up yet and after a shower I thought a bit of time in a peaceful place taking photos might just be the antidote to the trauma of the race earlier. It was a great idea, and much better than brooding about the bad run I'd just suffered. 

robin fledgling

I had been going to Holyrood Park far more than Warriston in June (more variety of butterflies) and the changes in the cemetery were considerable. Everything was overgrown although attempts had been made to keep paths clear of nettles and brambles. However other favourite places were becoming difficult to access. Birds were either sitting on eggs or bringing up chicks and their attitudes were also different. And there was an abundance of caterpillars and insects about the place - birds with beaks-full were the evidence of this, and nobody was much interested in the seeds I carried in my back pack.

Although there was a speckled wood or 2 about, there was little in the way of butterflies to chase and so I became aware of the hoverflies buzzing about the place. If you want a challenge try getting an in-flight shot of one. After a lot of dicking about I found if I took them against the sky, the auto-focus did a better job of catching them. I had been experimenting with setting the focus to about the right distance then waiting till they flew into it, but the sky background thing was easier. 

spectacular tree

As I was walking through the upper area, which is more like a formal cemetery, a large butterfly swooped up off the ground and flew strongly away. My mind said "Red Admiral" even though I didn't get a decent look. I think it was the first of the year. They have been in short supply this year. I cursed that it had disappeared off faster than my eye could follow, then recalled one very similar I met in a glade in Gullane woods. I reckoned that one was part of the huge influx from Europe we had a couple of years ago (with thousands of Painted Ladies) and it was both easily spooked and quite friendly. So it would fly up at great speed and then return and circle to land on the best perch available. If I held my hand in the sunlight it would land on that, which gave it a better view. I loitered in the aisle of graves and sure enough the admiral swooped back and I heard the swish of its wings as it considered landing on my shoulder. I held out my hand (always the left, camera in the right) and after a moment of consideration it landed on me. I was thrilled! What a compliment. The physical and mental pains of the race earlier melted away.

graveside

This wee robin was a shadow of his former self, run ragged collecting insects and caterpillars to feed offspring. He wasn't interested in the seeds I had, but hung around briefly as if to say hello, looking to get another few bugs and beasties in his beak before returning to the nest.

The walk did wonders. All the beauties chased away the horrors of the race and I felt like I had had a factory reset. My legs were stiff for days after but my heart was sorted that same afternoon. Particularly the first RA of the year and the rarity of it landing on my hand with little encouragement. It felt like a special moment. The visit to the cemetery had really brought me back from the dead. 

white butterfly wasn't stopping

dunnock

wren

wood pigeon

robin fledgling