Monthly Archives: June 2014

Erudite innit

Yo Peeps  I’ve been confined to barracks lately so unable to furnish you with fresh Barnaby’s of wuzzo, so here’s one of my odes for your delectation.   It’s called ‘erudite’.   hasta la rasta     x   i Jah d’Kwack


My brain is like a Teddy Bear

Got no worries     got no care

But like Ted       it’s worn       threadbare

Losing stuffing everywhere

Someone said “you’re erudite”

Or was it Errol Flynn?

My eru’s not packed in too tight

Nor helped by Vera Lynn       (gin)

Despite that night       not hearing right

I sucked my stomach in

When riding bike for home tonight       I hope my eru’s not a sight

“He’s erudite”   shrieked Beryl Flight

Or were her knickers pulled up tight?

(Not a very pretty sight if you’re cycling late at night)

My head is full of many things

Some cabbages       not many Kings

If octopod could wear gold rings     where would he put his waterwings?

I find it hard retaining thought     buzzing in my head

Thoughts are like migrant birds         flaky flock of absurd words

Fluttering like butterfly

Where & Who & What & Why?

Is it ANNO DOMINI           passing of the years?

I’m stuffing down humblest pie         does it end in tears?

Perhaps I’ll wear a snappy hat to hold my brainwaves in

A leather one       in smart mat black       furry tiger skin?

My thoughts would then be held in place

Behaviour would not cause disgrace

I could look so debonair

Head & hat a lovely pair without worry or care

I’d have to wear the hat quite tight in case of sudden gust

Otherwise thoughts would take flight       landing in the dust

It would be hard to put them back       covered up with grime

Collecting them in haversack         would take exhaustive time

I’ll tie the hat beneath my chin           erudites safely held in

Then I could strike a learned pose       tiger skin above my nose

Lovelier than any rose

Port for all my portmanteaus



J de Kwack & Tommy


More bellicose & belligerent TonTons

Yo Doods  Didn’t go birding today as I’ve been a little bit ‘under the weather’, so here’s a Barnaby I took last week. It’s another ‘needled up’ TonTon Macoute (would you Adam & Doris it) chasing a little egret. Mind you, those herons do like a tasty chick. As always, with kindest rhubarbs   x i Jedi d’Kwack



coot:little egret

One flew over the measuring pole

Hello peepsters  It’s a bit quiet at the mo’, with few oddities flying into the scrape. I presume a few waders fly over and can’t see a conducive bank of mud to fiddle about on so carry on? The belligerent tontons are still making a nuisance of themselves chasing anything that takes their fancy, even the swallows as they fly over. I’ll enclose a Barnaby of a coot taking a ‘jump’ at a passing sleepy hollow, as well as an innocent little grebe minding its own business.   For good measure, here’s a swallow whizzing over the measuring pole.      T T F N     x i Jedi d’Kwack




Little grebe:coot

As Promised, two Sharons



x  i Jedi  d’QuackQuackQuack

Hirundae & Hobby

Yo Doodies   Another good morning at the Cabernet despite the reeds higher than a pachyderm’s eye.  A buzzard was lurking when I first arrived, sitting on a post in an adjoining field to the scrape. I managed a reference shot but not one good enough for my discerning blog followers. A little later the resident hobby flew in looking for dragonflies. It settled on a post that looked down upon the Neptune’s daughter where the dragonflies whizzed in and out of the reeds in the morning sunshine. Bernie and I waited for the dib dib dobby to lift so we could get that flight shot. I enclose a Barnaby of the dibby for your delectation. There were 2 herons (little egret & grey heron) lurking in the rushes which I’ll post in a new blog. I think 6 Barnaby Rudge’s are too much for one post. The reason is, when Sir Bernardo and Yours T left for our morning’s Charlotte Joffe at Bomber Command, we came across three hirundaes sitting on the wire beside the Jeckyl’s path. There had been a swift earlier swooping across the Nep’s, but he wouldn’t be sitting on the wire beside the Cabernet. The three little lovelies were a house martin, sand martin and swallow. All juvs. And you know, three juvs on a wire are better than four up your congapooley. tooty frooty or if your prefer tutti frutti x i Jedi de Quack
sand martin
house martin

They’re still at it! (the Tonton Macoutes)

Yo Peeps    It was a beautiful morning when Kboy and Yours T  left for the Cabernet.  The fissures on Ramsgate’s cliffs were clear and bright in the early morning sunshine. Mind you, the grass and reeds on the Neptune’s were still as high as a pachyderm’s eye (ooooer missus, I feel an ode coming on.) There were few birds on the scrape but there were a few herons lurking by the side of the water, hiding in the reeds waiting for unsuspecting wuzzoe.  Despite the dearth of wuzzoe, the ton ton Macouteys seem to be multiplying and attacking anything that settles. I enclose two smudges of coot attack and another Barnaby of Mrs Shoveler who seems to stay out of trouble as she escorts her 7 duckling around the Cabernet.  Excitement of the morning was a whizzing hobby who darted about snatching up dragonflies. I managed a shot of his nibs catching and devouring a dragonfly for your delectation   hasta la doodah  x  i Jedi de Quack 



Yo Doods  Had a lot of running around today and was unable to go birding so I’ve posted my usual ‘one taken earlier’. It’s an Indian running duck which I smudged at Barnes (WWT). I love that reserve which is situated in the heart of London. Well worth a visit if you have to go up to the big smoke. Nowadays I try to avoid London with the ridiculous parking and congestion scams. The Barnes WWT is an oasis in the middle of all that avaricious nonsense and bad manners. Sorry, I’m falling into my Mr Angry of Tunbridge Wells mode. Apologies. As I had quite a stressful morning running around ( in Deal) I feel like my ode ‘Damocles’ will be an appropriate poem to include for your delectation.  I’m looking forward to the Cabernet tomorrow and a cornucopia of wonderful wuzzoes.   tooty ton ton Macoute x i Jedi de Q


Indian running duck


I tremble at the slightest breeze
Shaking beneath blade of Damocles
Suspended by solitary hair
Shadows cast are hard to bear
Can feel anxiety attack just starting
At the thought of permanent centre parting
Slightest move will cause a fall
Gillette Contour free-for-all
Cutting stabbing ripping flesh
Corn for machine driven thresh

Senses reeling apocalyptic ordeal thought of feeling naked steel
Ending up like blood seeped veal
Sabre cutlass claymore panga
Most unpleasant used in anger
Every time I make a move
Someone seems to disapprove
Must I lay so close to death
Holding back voice and breath?
Everything I do is wrong not as if I’ve been headstrong
I’d settle down where I belong if Damocles removes his prong

Dear Damocles,
Syracusian dude, I know Dionysius acted rude, but you and I have had no feud. Why hold me cowed unproud subdued? Let me breath fresher air without hard tungsten hanging there. I promise not to drink or swear, buy bus-pass (no dodging fare) Every morning comb my hair, even share my camembert and bittersweet chocolate eclair. If behaviour is the best, will I then be allowed to rest without cursed and lacerated breast, `BUPA-upped` convalesced possessions repossessed?

Damocles, please Damocles, don’t give cold shoulder freeze. I need the strength of Hercules to lift myself from bended knees. Barbed pendulum swinging like trapeze doesn’t put me at my ease