Ilkley Baptist

I have bought a telescope, second-hand, in fact damaged, from ebay; but now all is mended and I have it working. On holiday I spent a memorable evening sitting in a chair, staring at the full moon rising over the Lleyn Peninsula. Even through my very small, low-power binoculars, it was a wonderful sight. I tried drawing the features I could see, and since I've been home, I've been learning the names of some of the craters and seas that you can spot. There's Tycho, the big one near the bottom with lines radiating out from it that you can just about see with the naked eye. The dark sea that forms the 'o' mouth of the man in the moon is the Mare Nubium. Through binoculars you can see Aristarchus, high on the left hand side, a bright, white crater, which is white because it's recent and hasn't been blackened by the solar wind. Like a beauty spot on the cheek of the moon is the crater Grimaldi, then there are the craters Kepler and Copernicus, Plato and Aristotle, and numerous other mountain ranges, rilles and plains to learn about.

The telescope gives a wonderful image. When I first got it, the moon was full. As it waned, the edge of darkness has moved across the moon, throwing craters into sharp relief. You can see the small area at the edge (the terminator) very clearly. However, the waning moon rises later and later each night. It won't rise until 1am tonight, and won't get above the houses in Lister Street for another hour or two after that. Mind you, there are too many clouds to see it in any case.

So I may have to concentrate on other things. Jupiter is currently nicely placed in the evening sky to the south, and with the telescope I can see the moons, two on either side when I last looked. Uranus and Neptune are nearby, but much fainter. I haven't yet managed to look at the Andromeda Nebula. That should be a good, when we get a nice, dark, clear and moonless sky.

The starlings were in evidence again today, flocks of them swirling, separating and reforming in the skies above the centre of town, then landing on chimney pots and arials to squeak and twitter. At this time of year their plumage is very bright, glossy brown rather than grey, and the little stars (that's where their name comes from) are strongly marked.

Yesterday I watched a pair of red kites flying over a field near the roundabout for Burley in Wharfedale. Majestic birds, but a bit confused looking, not sure where to go next, dithering, changing direction, coming low, climbing again. They look a bit brainless, to be honest. Lovely to see them around Ilkley, though.

There are starlings in town in large numbers, in the trees down Brook Street, and on the rooftops along Church Road, whistling and squeaking away. They are the monkeys of the birds world, noisy, clever and impertinent.

Twenty years ago, if you put the carcass of a roast chicken in the garden on a winter's day, fifty starlings would descend and pick it clean within minutes. Now they are much rarer. We did see the immense roost on the Somerset levels earlier in the year, though. Vast numbers making a sound like a giant fan as they turned in the air before dropping into the reeds.

Perhaps numbers are up this year. It would be good to see more of them.

I'm gradually returning to cycling after the dark days of winter. Cycling along my usual route to Beamsley today, I heard and saw my first curlew of the day. It teased me at first. I thought it was a curlew, but it was only two notes of song, and could have been a lapwing. Then a longer note as well, but indistinct. Finally the full song and the bird sliding overhead. Very welcome.

I also passed a buzzard, a first for me on this road.

February was the driest month, at 0.85 inches, since May last year.

Fool! It wasn't Mercury, it was Jupiter. Oh well, I can still look for Mercury another time.

Meanwhile, today, in Bradford, in the wintry cold, I saw a blackcap, and heard its merry song, on a tree near the ChinoThai place.