An oriole in my fig tree.

The spring came early this year; it was the end of winter one minute and then almost overnight it was early summer. The early spring blossoms, the ruby red quince, vibrant yellow forsythia and the beautiful dusty pink tamarisk all seemed to come into bloom two weeks or so before they normally do and  almost in the blinking of an eye. This seems to have been the pattern all along this year. The hay was cut in the middle of May, as opposed to June in normal years and some farmers have already begun the corn harvest. I don't suppose the vendange be any earlier than normal because the viticulteurs will want the grapes to soak up as much sunshine as they can before they are picked.
Just in front of the terrace there is fig tree planted by my friend and neighbour M. Rossignol many years ago just after we had bought the house. Then it was a holiday home to be enjoyed whenever we could find the time to leave behind our busy lives in Paris in order to make the 500 kilometre roadtrip down here to snatch a couple of weeks in the countryside. Our neighbours were so kind and first welcomed us to the village with invitations to share long,convivial (and delicious) meals with them in their farmhouse kitchen.Over the years we became firm friends and as a gesture of their friendship and because every Charentais house should have one, they planted us a tiny fig tree in front of the house.
In the intervening years the tree has flourished and grown amazingly. It is now a fine specimen of ficus carica which gives us two crops of figs a year, one in May and one again in September.The fruit we sometimes eat straight from the tree, usually during the cheese course when we eat outside on long spring, early summer evenings, or preserved, as fig jam.
The figs,of course, are also of great interest to birds and insects. Hornets love the sticky, over ripe fruits as do the birds. Almost every bird in the area seems attracted to them and this year our fig tree was graced with with the presence of one of Europe's most exotic summer visitors-oriolus oriolus, the Golden Oriole.
  The Oriole is a medium-sized bird, about the same size as a Blackbird. The similarity ends there however because the Oriole has bright yellow head, back and underparts and black wings or at least the males have.The females are a litle duller being mostly olive green with dark wings. The oriole's song is a rich fluty 'wee-alla -wo' and they can sometimes make a squealing cry like a cat. A remarkably exotic bird which probably looks more at home in Africa where it overwinters than it does in the fields and woods of Europe the oriole visits us each summer arriving in May and leaving as summer ends. There are always a couple of pairs nesting in the woods near the village and you can sometimes see a bright flash of yellow between the branches but only fleetingly, as they emphasize their reputation of being secretive arboreal birds.Not this year however. This spring,attracted by the ripening figs, the oriole visited my fig tree on several occasions. I have suceeded in seeing one from my kitchen window. I don't imagine there are many birders who can claim a Golden Oriole on their garden list. A good tick!

Kingfishers, Hoopoes and a Little Owl

This morning the sky was overcast and there was more than a hint of rain to come. It has been cooler here for most of the past week and on several occasions I truly believed we would get the rain we so badly need.  
   I met M. Martin our local builder at the déchetterie. He was dumping some rubble from one of his jobs and although happy with the weather so it seemed, it allowed him to get on with his buiilding and renovation work, he was sympathetic to the farmers; they needed rain badly. He waved a piece of  broken timber in the direction of the blackening clouds.' Eh oui, ça tourne et ça tourne mais ça tombe pas!' It did rain later on in the morning however but only a few centimetres worth; hardly enough to warrant a celebration.
   Later I drove down to the river intending to fish for barbel at La Touche but when I got there the river was so low that it wasn't worth the effort of unpacking the gear from the van. The water was gin clear and the bottom was clearly visible, the current reduced to a trickle. Obviously, the local farmers, desperate for water for their maize and sunflowers, had been pumping water out of the river somewhere along its length. It's a real problem and will be resolved only when we get some really heavy rainfall over an extended period, probably  though not until the autumn.
I was lucky enough however to see a kingfisher profiting from the low, clear water. These jewel-like birds little birds are always a joy to see and I am often lucky enough to see one or two when I am fishing. If I remain perfectly still, they sometimes perch near me, perhaps drawn to the many small shoal fish my bait attracts. On my way home I saw a beautiful Little Owl on a telegraph pole. There was also a pair of hoopoes on the bushes near the reservoir at the bottom of our lane. I have seen more hoopoes this year than in any other and this all over the south west and down into Spain. Obviously, the past few breeding seasons have been very successful for this species.
 So no fishing but three brilliant birds to compensate for the disappointment.

Feeble Showers

The birth of this blog coincides with one of the driest springs this region has known.Our neighbour, Mme Rossignol,who is in her late eighties, says it's cyclique and that during her long life she has seen this all before. Like most people around here and especially the agriculteurs, we get our weather forecasts from the internet and French television. Since there is strong belief that the region is a microclimate, we tend to mistrust the national television forecasts which are too general for our purpose and log on to the local weather website ( l'ésprit du clocher is still alive and well! ) I wonder if there is much difference between this and trying to forecast the weather by interpreting the signs as Mme. Rossignol assures me her ancestors did very successfully, more successfully than la météo.
Anyway, today's forecast hinted at faibles averses which, roughly translated, means s*d all!
    The situation is serious. No appreciable rainfall has occurred since last February.The local farmers have all but exhausted the subterranean water supplies and have for the past few summers been  pumping water from the rivers in order to irrigate their maize fields. This water has not been replaced by winter rainfall for the last few years. This year, because of the warm dry spring, the hay was ready for cutting in early May and now the harvest has already begun. The paysage looks like it usually does in late summer.
     This region is known, like most of the south-western corner of France, for its sunflowers. July and early August see the fields and hillsides covered in dinner plate sized flower heads. Sunflowers are usually planted quite late to ensure warm sunny growing conditions. This year those conditions which have been with us since March, have meant that the earth is hard and parched and the new crop straggly and undersized compared to what it should be now.Only the vines seem to be enjoying the warm dry conditions. This year's cru should be a good one!

The birth of a blog.

I thought this would be easy but it isn't. I'm already suffering the pangs of giving birth to it. All I really wanted to do was to create a blog on my life here in France and update it on a regular, if not daily, basis. It will be a kind of journal if you like with thoughts and observations on daily life, the people, the country, the weather, the wildlife etc. Nothing to set the world on fire but some gentle musings and reflections. It will be aimed at those who are interested in France, French life and culture and who would appreciate the observations of the author, someone who has lived here for over twenty three years.

The writing doesn't scare me after all, it's a facet of my profession; no it's the technology which I'm finding testing. We'll have a go and see where it leads us. If you're interested in France, the French or indeed my journey then please follow.