Black Fawr

After enduring nearly four weeks of decorating and a crisp, sunny autumnal day forecast it was time to down paint brushes and head for the mountains.

Arenig Fawr was the destination and after my sister had picked me up at 8.30, it was full steam ahead.

We rocked-up near Llyn Celyn and a cursory scan of the lake revealed it to be holding precisely one bird. It clearly had a talent for modern politics positioning itself precisely in the middle and thus remained unidentified, although it hinted at being a drake Goosander.

Out on the slopes of Arenig Fawr it was very much a day that Henry Ford (although perhaps not one JT and Freddie Mercury look-a-like Luis Suarez) would have enjoyed – we could watch any bird so long as it was black.

Thus, a handful of Carrion Crows, a pair of Ravens and a flock of migratory Starlings were all there was to be had.

Then things got a little better, although very much on theme – a trio of Choughs were flushed by a chap and his howlin’ dog a few hundred metres ahead. Nice.

After enjoying an incredible panorama that afforded lovely views of all of North Wales’ major mountain ranges it was time to descend and we had all but reached the bottom when the streak was ruined by a Meadow Pipit.

But, in a curious twist, we then spotted what must be Wales’ only black sheep farmer.

Not a farmer of black sheep ,oh no sirey, an actual sheep farmer who was black. It then struck me that apart from professional morris dancing, there could be no whiter profession than farming.

Or birding for that matter – how many ethnic minority birders do you know apart from David Lindo?

Bugger all?