As I write the summer sun streams through my windowk, burning off the dawn mist, and I feel inclined to keep this fairly breif. I shall be bringing the birdy details of my rather exciting trip to the North Midlands to you in installments.

My partner and I arrived in Cromford, Derbyshire at about half past four, giving us limited light. We stepped off the bus near one of the famous Derwent Mills, mills very much of Blake's Satanic variety, covered in a bloody history of industrial accidents. Beside it, flowed a wide, fast river, at the bottom of the valley. The valley wall in front of us was under a gentle, landscaped parkland, with a variety of exotic-looking trees. We glanced over the wall and down at the flowing water. A couple of moorhens (Gallinula chloropus) prodded about on the opposite bank, but it was the small bird, blackbird sized, which flew by on whirring wings which caught my eye. He alighted on a rock where the river bends. He was fat and dark with a white chest patch. A dipper, and we had only been off the bus for a few minutes! We walked down a bit further and through the branches of imported pine trees, no doubt planted on the orders of some 18th-century champion of industry, to see the dipper raise his head and sing up at us, making a curious shape, his beak thrust vertically into the air, displaying with his chest patch. A female, or perhaps a rival, looked on with interest.

We decided to do a little more birding while we had the light but saw little, although a walk by the canal was pleasant and we were entertained by hot air balloonists in the valley. We watched a few mallards and mute swans for a bit on the canal and saw a pair of handsome Little Grebes, (Tachybaptus ruficolis) by now in their full, smart breeding plumage. A Mistle Thrush made rasping noises in a bush beside the water, and a large hen Sparrowhawk flew over our heads. The light began to fade so we decided to call time on the birding and contemplate dinner.

Natalie and I booked into our hotel and went out for the evening, taking care not to stay out too late and forcing ourselves out of bed before seven. She had chosen this place because she knew it was home to a bird I had never seen but yet one I was very keen too. The Hawfinch (Coccothraustes coccothraustes) is an increasingly scarce bird, a little bigger than a chaffinch, heavy set around the beak, with a large head and chestnut brown markings. Some birders told us where to look for them but a walk by the Rugby Club car park, where the other birders waited, just felt cold, and as I have always taken a mobile approach to birding I saw no reason to stop then! We tried the churchyard, where, after looking at several chaffinches through our binoculars, we finally found one of the heavy-looking finches. The beak, immense and triangular, is striking, and then the colour is unique, a smart, rich grey brown.

satisfied with seeing this remarkable bird we retired for breakfast and formed our plans for the afternoon. Apparantly there was a great grey shrike up on the moors, and, intrigued more by the prospect of moorland than the shrike, we decided that this was the way to go.

TO BE CONTINUED.