The winter nights are beginning to draw in now and some days we get impressive skies.  Today is not one of them (it is dreich and windy), but from a few days back.

Sunrise from my window (probably the same day)

And a sunset from when I went out to put the ducks and hens to bed for the night.  Superb.

Because it is getting darker, my daily routine has reverted back to my winter one.

Animals are fed and watered in the morning.  Then, after lunch, I make a sheeple ready for next year’s buyers. No one wants them now, which I find a bit depressing, but I shall keep on stabbing away all winter ready for next year’s rush.

I have also re-visited my Great Great Aunt Kate’s diaries, which I am busy transcribing. I do this after supper for a couple of hours.

I have now reached 1933 and Kate is 54 years old.  I would be lying if I said her life was a riot of excitement (she is currently holidaying in Champfèr, St Moritz on a ski-ing trip with friends) and I keep thinking they have no idea what is waiting for them just around the corner – World War 2.  My grandmother, who is 24 (Kate’s neice) has passed her shorthand diploma with 92% while my grandfather occasionally visits the family too. He is an old family friend.

I am trying hard not to think “this time last week”, because although I had the best time and loved every minute south, bar the travelling home bit, I have lots to keep me busy here.

We’ve had a lovely few days this week, weather-wise, so OH and I have been outside working. Him on the windows and me in the garden, digging up my tatties and seeing if we have any Jerusalem (f)artichokes for Christmas and I think we just might, but don’t quote me.  It’s still a long time until Christmas.

So, of course, everyone else has been outside too.

I would like to say that these two are the best of friends…… sometimes…. but Monster just can’t resist being the elephant, sorry, element, of surprise.

Pepper was undeterred and Monster said he was sorry, sort of.

And even copped a pervy sniff for good measure.  He is such a wierdo.

Apparently they’re the best of friends, you see, ……

…. who can have their Abba moments too.

Later on, I wandered over to check on the Minions.  I was taking this photo of Storm who was wearing his best behaviour face when I noticed what was going on behind him…..

Pepper was talking to these three, and I’m not going to write “wise monkeys” because they’re not.  (L-R) – Silver, Newt and Waffle.

I love how Pepper does her best to get along.

Newt, of course, is Pepper’s favourite pony friend – he is seldom mean to her. Just everyone else.

And Waffle looking at something.

I love days like this with everyone getting along.   Mostly rare.

Well, that old adage “you learn something new every day” is certainly true of me today.

I popped over to my friends to photograph more little goldcrests just because I adore these funny little birds and soon they will all fly away.

It took a while for me to get my birding eye in and I do, in fact, have many photos of empty branches….

…. blurry small unhelpful birds…..

…. and ones flying away.  No one ever stands still, they’re always on the go and very difficult to photograph.

But always comical.

Fact #1 I-didn’t-know – they have gold tinted feathers too.  I thought it was just the crest on the top of their head that was gold.

They have talons/curved claws that look very sharp and efficient for holding onto things.

Little round fluffy bottoms – oof!

And they like to think they are in disguise.  Yer, right. No one can see you.

During my search, I also saw this chap, who totally caught my attention.  I had absolutely no idea what it was, though.

According to my extremely useful bird book, it is a British Coal Tit (Periparus ater britannicus).

And, Fact #2 I-didn’t-know – according to my book, it is a vagrant in Shetland, which I thought sounded very disparaging.

Apparently “a vagrant” is not “a person without a settled home or regular work who wanders from place to place and lives by begging.” but, in the bird world, it is “a species that is currently outside their wintering and breeding area.” Poor little blighter – I guess it was blown in by the storm.

And, if I have given out wrong information, please let me know.  I am new to this birding lark (see what I did there, geddit?)

My absolute all-time favourite bird in Shetland is the goldcrest.  Apparently, it is an autumnal visitor from Scandinavia.

And, according to Wikipedia “The goldcrest is a very small passerine bird in the kinglet family. Its colourful golden crest feathers, as well as being called the “king of the birds” in European folklore, gives rise to its English and scientific names. The scientific name, R. regulus, means king or knight.”  I did not know this.  I just see them in my garden around this time of year and think they are the best.

I will admit that I am not the most professional bird-watcher at the best of times but, when I popped over to Turriefield to collect some horse/pony/sheep carrots, I was told about their newly arrived goldcrests.  Obviously I didn’t have my big camera with me as they flitted about.

And back in my garden, I went out armed with my camera.  I could hear some goldcrests in the trees – they have a unique sound, very high pitched tweeting.

Of course a certain white cat came too. He was unhelpful and I shouted at him to go inside as he stalked everything I was trying to take a photo of.  Bloody Monster.

But I managed to spot a few wee birds….

…. as they flew off, once Monster was on their trail.

Not kind, Monster, not kind.  It’s not like he’s hungry with his 6 meals a day blagged off OH.

But a goldcrest is a determined chap and, once I got my bird-watching eye in, I could see them in our trees.

Go away, Monster.

At times, it was a case of spot the goldcrest – none here, I don’t think.

I love these wee birds – they make me smile – and tomorrow I think I will head back to Turriefield armed with my big camera and no cat to become an official bird-watcher.

I can see the Minions in their field from Thordale – they are currently living in a five acre croft across the hill.  During the day, I do a head-count fairly regularly so I know they are all ok.  The wee blob on the far left is Newt.

As they were crossing the field, having spotted me watching, they were in a silly-billy mood so I walked over the scattald (grazing for hill sheep) with Pepper and climbed up the hill to watch the boys playing.

Their eyes were on me.

But silliness was stronger than trying to talk to me.

And I stood behind the wall watching them annoy each other and bounce around like ants on a hot pan (a Chinese phrase, apparently).

The sun was setting and the Minions had finished annoying each other so Pepper and I went home again.

Watching the Minions play makes me hopeful that I made the right choice putting them there.  Yes, they are a little fatter but the weather is only going to get colder and very likely worse so the natural workings of their own internal combustion engines and thick coats will kick in to keep them warm and happy (and I don’t have to lug hay).