October 2014 (2)

One small incident during the past summer may be of interest. You will have  gathered that I enjoy blindsimming outings, travelling by myself to a bird watching reserve next to a reservoir, involving a train and bus journey, and there meeting up with another bird-watcher who believes me to be blind – as I am, of course, when I am with him. We had roughly monthly dates over the summer with him ringing me on my mobile the day before to discuss the weather prospects and confirm the arrangements. During July then, he rang me to ask if I had heard that an Eagle (very exciting event in our part of the country) had taken up temporary residence at Ashdown Forest, moorland about twenty miles away. He was going off on holiday the following week and wanted to drive over and see it, before he went, in case it decided to go elswhere while he was away. Would I like to go with him that next day? Of course how I could I refuse, even though I wouldn't see it. It did apparently come quite close to (sighted!) observers being a Short Toed Eagle that flew lower than other eagles even coming down onto the ground for periods. Normally this variety never strayed North of Central France. I said that although I wouldn't be able to comment on the lengths of it toes!, how could I miss such a chance?

So I made my way as usual, blindsimming from a quarter of a mile before the bus stop, on the bus, help offered all round, as I've described before, to be met at off bus, helped into his car and off we went. I had taken my Kwell, just as well for a three-quarter hour journey (as far as I guessed) ending bumping along some rough roads to a car park which he knew of and eventually found. I gathered it was called Gills Lap and was somewhere near Winnie the Poo country. Well, we (he, of course,) located the Eagle itself quite quickly, mainly by asking other people there apparently for the same reason and I soon picked it out by its call which was different from anything else I knew and I impressed him and one or two others by being able to point to it as it called. These others gratifyingly realising I was blind without being told by my dark glasses and white stick of course. What impressed me more directly was the smell of moorland and the background bird song of that type of country. Quite different from our usual waterside area. Certainly no Canada Geese or ducks of any sort but curiously, many more aircraft flying over and quite low. We were near Gatwick airport as my companion explained before. After an hour or so wandering about, he took me back to my bus stop, again sharing the cost of lunch in a pub on the way. I don't carry a handbag on these occasions, money being kept in a zipped pocket in my coat with a ten pound note hidden away on me in case even my coat might go missing. It never has, thankfully.

More next week probably, Jane