The shy Cirl Bunting likes to be warm and is localised to Devon and Cornwall. The village of Stokeinteignhead in Devon is so proud of them it has one as its mascot. Cirl Buntings are usually found amongst the vineyards of the Mediterranean and spend a lot of their time shuffling about on the ground or perched in bushes. They have only recently arrived here, colonising southern Britain from the 1800s.
The Cirl Bunting is smaller than a Yellowhammer but just as yellow with a flat-looking head, a striking black chin and eye stripe, a black crown, yellow underparts, streaked sides and an olive-coloured rump. There is a greenish band on the chest. The female and youngsters are paler, with a grey rump. Their song is a high-pitched, rattling trill of a single "ink", similar to the start of a Yellowhammer's song, and delivered from a song post.
Cirl Buntings feed mainly on seeds like chickweed and nettle and some insects like grasshoppers and crickets.
They form monogamous pairs in April and the female builds a bulky cup-shaped nest hidden in dense vegetation like bramble. It is made from grass and lined with softer material. Mum incubates the 3-4 eggs which hatch after 12 days. Both parents feed the young, who can fly after 11 days and become fully independent 12 days later. The youngsters can breed themselves by the following year. Mum and dad usually have two broods and sometimes even three.
Its small range and population size means the Cirl Bunting has been on the Red List since 1996. After 25 years of conservation effort, numbers have reached 1,000 pairs from just 118 in the 1980s. Most of their decline was due to loss of habitat when farming practices changed. Farmers are now encouraged to leave stubble overwinter and delay ploughing until the end of March. This allows the Cirl Buntings to feed over the winter on the spilt grain and on the seeds of broad-leaved arable weeds like fat hen and chickweed.
The Cirl Bunting's Latin name is 'emberiza cirlus' where 'emberzia' is from the Old German 'embritz' for a bunting and 'cirlus' is from a local Italian name 'cirlo', also for a bunting, from 'zirlare' meaning 'to chirp'. The English Cirl is also derived from 'cirlus'.
The Corn Bunting is a large bunting of the open country. It was once widely seen and was even historically known as the 'Common Bunting'. The best way to find them is from their jangling keys song. In the winter, they will join mixed flocks of buntings, finches and sparrows to forage on farmland. Sadly, like so many birds, they have declined steeply with changes in farming.
Corn Buntings are unusual in that both the male and female look alike, with the male being 20% bigger. They have heavily streaked buff-brown bodies, similar to a Skylark, pale underparts and a noticeable dark eye. The streaks on the breast form a noticeable dark patch. The thick bill is yellowish and they dangle their legs during their fluttering flight. Their song is a repetitive metallic jangle usually sung from a post or bush.
They eat mainly seeds, especially barley, but also include insects such as crickets, spiders, caterpillars, slugs and worms when feeding their young.
A male Corn Bunting defends his territory in the breeding season and may attract up to three nesting females. He is so busy looking after his area that he does little parenting, leaving it mainly to the ladies, who build the grass nests and each incubate 3-5 eggs. The more females he has, the longer he will sing, to show what a man he is. The eggs hatch after 14 days and the youngsters leave the nest 12 days later to hide in nearby vegetation until they can fly.
There are about 11,000 Corn Bunting territories in Britain. Numbers declined greatly in northwest Europe due to intensive agricultural practices reducing the food supply of weed seeds and insects. It is Red Listed, though environmental stewardship schemes are slowly helping their recovery. Corn Buntings are sedentary and males who are just 30km apart can sing with different 'dialects'.
Their Latin name is 'emberiza calandra' where 'emberiza' is from Old German 'embritz' for 'bunting' and 'calandra' is from Ancient Greek 'kalandros' for 'lark'. The English name comes from its love of seeds. The Corn Bunting is also sometimes affectionately known as the 'Corn Dumpling', as the male lacks the showy colouring of other Buntings.
I use DevonThink(DT) for my personal knowledge management. DT is extremely powerful and can be used in so many ways. I thought I would offer my simple set up as an example of how I use DevonThink and hope people find it useful.
A good place to start is how I divide my data between databases.
Deciding on databases
It has taken a bit of trial and error to get my databases right, but data is easy to move about in DT on the road to getting it right. The key elements on deciding how to split my information were:
Do I want to sync the data?
Is it an ‘area’ of work where I need everything together?
Does the data share a common tagging schema?
Databases I have include:
Work (used for all work stuff)
Birds (holds lots of notes about my bird watching hobby - the feathered ones)
Newsletter (I write a monthly village newsletter)
Village Hall (I am on the management committee)
Reference (reference materials and personal stuff like car insurance documents, purchase receipts, vacation info, manuals, guides)
Thoughts (collection of quotes, snippets, and ideas)
Cookbook (collection of recipes)
Yes, I could have all in one giant database broken down into major groups as above, but the tagging schemas are different in several databases (see below) and the schemas make sense when in that database. Groups in the databases are generally only two or three deep, and I try to make group names understandable and as unique as possible. It stops (for me) lots of groups with the same name being confusing in a search list.
Do I want to sync the data?
Yes, I know I could sync everything everywhere, but why, when I don’t need it on my iPhone or iPad? There is plenty of room, but why sync gigabytes of data when I don’t need to? I don’t sync Work to my devices as it contains very confidential information. It could be safely encrypted etc. but it is far safer not to have it on my iPhone in the first place. I want Cookbook and Reference on my iPhone for ideas when shopping and insurance details if I have a car accident. Newsletter stays on my MacBook as that is the only place I work on it.
Is it an ‘area’ of work?
An ‘area’ of work is what I am going to be doing when I open my MacBook, drink a coffee, and get going. Work pretty much speaks for itself. When working on the Newsletter, I only need all the newsletter information, like past issues, details for publishing, ideas for future issues, etc. You might argue that Birds could go into Reference, but I have a specific tag schema relating to bird classification and it gives me a classification view from the tag list without lots of other tags messing it up. Another consideration on grouping of data is if I want to use replicants (they only work within the same database)
Does the data share a common tagging schema?
I am a bit OCD and hate messy tag lists. Tagging in Work relates to the type of document (proposal, report, agenda etc.) and its status (final, draft, in review, waiting on someone). Tagging in the Newsletter is the month and the information’s source. For my Cookbook, the schema is ingredients. I don’t want to have pumpkin next to proposal in my tag list, which is why they sit in different databases. For this reason, I do not unify tags but have them listed in each database only. Another reason for not unifying tags is both Village Hall and Work have an agenda tag. Unifying, I got two agenda tags, and I was never sure which was which. When working in a database, it is easy to remember the particular tag schema for that database. Not keeping to a tag schema ends up being ‘garbage in, garbage out’ and having difficulty finding anything based on tags. Was it tagged vacation or holiday?
Workflow
Now I have my databases, how do I get information into them and process it?
The Global Inbox is my clearing house
All new information, whether from my iPad in DevonThink to Go (DTTG) or DT on my MacBook, gets sent, shared or dragged into the Global Inbox. Smart rules based on a tag then move it into the Inbox of the appropriate database for processing when I am working in that ‘area’. I can add these simple tags in the sorter when clipping, when saving in finder, when sharing to DTTG, or in the Global inbox itself.
Simple Smart rules
Simple smart rules look for the simple tag and move the item into the correct database, deleting the tag as soon as it is moved. So tagging an item newsletter moves it to the Newsletter Inbox. Similarly, cookbook into Cookbook.
The local DB Inbox
When I am working in an ‘area’ and have that database (and usually the Reference DB) open, I will further process anything in the database’s Inbox. Workspaces can be your friend here for opening what databases are needed (or just have the lot open). If you put a database in favourites and it is closed, clicking on the favourite will open it.
Items in the database’s inbox might be further tagged, moved into the right group (using the move shortcut ctrl-command-M or using ’see also & classify), or discarded to stop the garbage pile getting too big. On some databases, like Work, I have a few additional smart rules that try to auto tag based on the file name and/or contents when the item arrives in the database inbox. This allows for targeted rules appropriate to that database. For example; if the name contains ‘plan’ it is tagged plan. I did get excited with trying to automate as much as possible based on content, but got a lot of ‘false positives’. A report from someone might reference a ‘proposal’ and got tagged proposal when it wasn’t. Sometimes, human oversight is the fastest way to do it right.
There are lots of examples on their forum where people use rules to rename bank statements and such things when scanned.
My end of year review
Over the Christmas period, with a beer in hand, I will go through some of my databases (particularly Reference) and decide what can go. I don’t need the car insurance documents from three years ago or the manual for the old fridge. Doing the occasional review is good for keeping the garbage in check. It makes searching more efficient if the results list is not filled with irrelevant stuff. I think of my databases like my house. I don’t want them to look like the worst hoarders home on TV, with piles of old newspapers and junk everywhere.
In Summary
Overall, my workflow is simple. When I have an item and save or share it, I add a tag for the ‘area’/database it needs to end up in. When I am next working in that ‘area’ the item(s) are sitting in that database’s inbox, waiting for final review and processing. The final review stage doesn’t take any time, ensures everything is correct and, importantly, makes me think “do I really need this?”
When in an emotional situation, old advice is to take ten breaths to compose yourself. This is good advice and sounds simple, but it is incredibly difficult to remember to do when a crisis occurs. Too often after the event, we kick ourselves that we didn't take a deep breath or two instead of biting back or getting angry.
It is much better to develop a two-breath habit that you can do all the time. Why two? People will hardly notice the pause. If you are worried about the time gap, start with one. Do it before doing anything. Take two breaths before speaking, before drinking your first cup of coffee, before getting into the car, before anything. Doing it this way soon makes taking two breaths a natural habit without thinking.
Those few seconds will enrich your life. It will let you clear your mind of work and give your children your full attention when they ask a question. It will give you time to stop yourself from snapping back at your partner and avoid that row that should not have happened. It will stop you from shouting back when someone shouts at you and help you stay calm. It will give you time to think in a stressful situation and deliver a measured response. It will give you time to decide if you are going to join in with a colleague's unkind gossip or remain neutral. It will keep on giving.
The greatest habit is to breathe at least once before opening your mouth.
I have lost count of the hours of my life I have lost in risk meetings where someone has ground through the risk log line by line. Each risk having to be explained in detail, as the description was ambiguous, and then the ensuing discussion (ego fight) over what the probability and impact should actually be and who knows best. Ten minutes later, once everyone had agreed to leave everything as it was, the next risk would go through the same treatment. While all this went on, one thing wasn't happening - nobody was doing anything about them.
Years a go, I came across a useful expression:
Get the frogs off the log
Risk only disappear if you take action. Risk meetings need to be about taking action not grinding through a risk log.
A better approach.
Concentrate on creating action plans and getting these into your plan, sprint log or product back log (as executing any action will take effort).
Before the meeting, get participants to privately identify or brainstorm any risks in their own words.
Everyone presents their risks and these are put on a board or post-its or whatever.
Risks that are the same or have same root cause can be combined.
Triage the risks and decide if anything is going to be done about them. 1It is important to agree if effort is going to be spent or not. If not, stick the risk in the bin and don't waste anymore time on it.2
For the remaining risks, brainstorm and agree an action plan3. It is important that all stakeholders agree who is doing what and commits.
The action plans should then be fed into the project plan or product backlog 4 as they may have a material impact on the effort or project timeline. The project owner can then decide when or if they are going to spend that effort. Impact and probability can play a part in making that decision.
Where an action plan mitigates a risk, but doesn't completely prevent it, a contingency budget and project plan B should be developed for when or if the risk strikes.
Tackling risks has a cost that needs to be met and be clearly visible to all.
Participants can bring a risk again to a later meeting, either in a different disguise, or because the project environment has changed and it has become relevant. ↩︎
This may be to remove the risk or to mitigate its impact. Not all risks can be neutralised totally ↩︎
By tagging these you can easily generate a 'live' risk log without the need of a separate list ↩︎
The Chough (pronounced "chuff") is a rare crow that loves uplands, crags and cliffs. They are usually seen in small groups and tend to stay in the same area. They are mainly found on Britain's west coasts and the Cornish like them so much, they are on Cornwall's coat of arms, proudly sitting on top of the crest flanked by a tin miner and a fisherman.
Rook-sized, Choughs are glossy black with red legs and a distinctive red, down-curved bill. When flying, the wings are deeply fingered and the tail looks square-ended. Being cliff dwellers, they are acrobatic masters of flight. Choughs moult slowly so they can always fly. On the ground, they tend to bounce and hop about when looking for food. Their call is a reverberating "chow" similar to, but louder than, a Jackdaw's
Choughs feed by probing, digging and turning over stones for invertebrates like ants, leatherjackets, beetles and other insects. They will also eat grains and berries.
Choughs rarely move far from their breeding areas and usually pair together for life. They nest in rock cavities, sea caves and even old mine shafts. The nest is built of sticks and lined with mud, moss and hair. The 3-5 eggs hatch after 17 days and the youngsters are fed by both mum and dad. After 40 days they can fly, but stay with their parents for a further 4-5 weeks.
Like many birds, the Chough population has declined, mainly due to the loss of their open habitat. Cattle and ponies used to graze the cliff tops, keeping the grass short and providing good, cropped ground for hunting insects. With the reduction in grazing, cliff tops have become too overgrown for the Chough. They are also easily disturbed by tourists. There are about 400-500 pairs in Britain and the oldest known Chough lived to 16.
Their Latin name is 'pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax' from the Ancient Greek 'purrhos' for 'flame-coloured' and 'korax' for 'crow'. The English name is thought to be from their call (as in 'bough' rather than 'rough'). A local Cornish name is 'palores' which means 'digger', a reference to their habit of digging away at loose soil to find insects. Legend has it that the soul of King Arthur departed in the form of a Chough, its red feet and bill signifying Arthur's violent and bloody end, so making killing them really unlucky.
As well as the 'Cornish' Chough, there's an Alpine Chough that lives high in the mountains.
The Whinchat is a summer visitor, closely related to the Stonechat (which stays here all the time). The wimpy Whinchat prefers to spend its winter in tropical Africa rather than chilly Britain. It is mainly found in the uplands of England and Scotland, though might be spotted anywhere as it migrates. The Whinchat likes open country like grasslands, meadows, and railway verges, often being seen perching upright on posts, flicking its tail and wings.
The male Whinchat looks similar to a Stonechat but is lighter in colour and has a distinctive pale eye-stripe. Smaller than a Robin, they have a mottled brown head and back, dark cheeks, white patches on their wings, and an orange-brown breast. The female is paler and less well marked. Whinchats look cross-shaped when flying with pointed wings, white side patches to their tails and a white shoulder bar. Their call is a soft clicking "tac, tac".
Whinchats perch in high places, ready to pounce on insects and other small invertebrates as they wander by. They mainly like to eat mayflies, moths, beetles, caterpillars, and spiders, though will also eat seeds, berries and worms.
Once arrived here, they settle down to nest in May or June. Mum builds a cup-shaped nest on the ground in dense vegetation from grass, leaves and moss. The 4-7 eggs hatch after 12 days and the youngsters are fed by both mum and dad. They leave the nest 12 days later, while still too young to fly, and fledge after another week. They remain dependent on mum and dad for 2 more weeks before finally leaving home. Mum and dad will often have two broods then do their moult in August, ready to head back to sub-Saharan Africa to live it up in places like Ghana or Nigeria.
About 50,000 pairs come to Britain though numbers have more than halved since 1995. The cause is unknown, though likely due to the loss of habitat. Nests are vulnerable to predators which include Weasels, Stoats, Crows, Magpies and small raptors like Merlin and, to top it all, are sometimes parasitised by the dastardly Cuckoo. The poor Whinchats have a tough time and, unsurprisingly, are on the Red List. They are short-lived birds, typically only surviving for 2 years. The oldest recorded Whinchat lived for just over 5 years.
Their Latin name 'saxicola ruberta' means 'small rock dweller' from the Latin 'saxum' for 'rock' and 'incola' for 'dwelling' and 'ruberta' for a 'small bird'. The English name comes from 'whin', an old name for gorse, which is often found where they breed, and 'chat' from the noise of their calls.
The Wheatear is a long distant migrant travelling from Africa to Europe, reaching as far as Greenland! A distance of 30,000 km. They arrive here in early spring and are usually seen in ones and twos. They are easy to spot from their distinctive quick scurry followed by stopping and standing to attention, often flicking their tails.
In summer, the bandit-masked male Wheatears have white rumps, short black tails, black cheeks, sandy breasts, blue-grey backs, white underparts, and a white stripe over their eye and forehead. In winter, they are less well marked. The female and juvenile are a washed out, buff brown version of the male Their white rump is visible against their black tail when flying. They sing a warbling song in short bursts, often given in fluttering song flights.
Wheatears feed mainly on insects, often jumping up to catch them. They will also eat worms, snails and berries.
Mum builds the rough cup of grass nest and lines it with moss. It is made within a hole or crevice in open countryside like a rocky mountain slope, moor or dune. An abandoned rabbit burrow, a hole in a wall or even a bit of drainage pipe will do. Dad perches nearby and sings to her. She lays 4-7 pale blue eggs which hatch after 13 days. The youngsters are fed by both mum and dad and can fly 15 days later, becoming fully independent after a further 15 days. They do their moult before heading back to Africa in October, many doing a 4,000km non-stop hop before resting in Morocco. Young Wheatears can breed after one year.
Sadly, Wheatear numbers have declined in the last fifty years and they are Amber listed. The drop is thought to be due to the ploughing of old grasslands and droughts in Africa. About 200,000 pairs come to Britain and can be found mainly in northern and western regions. The oldest ringed Wheatear lived to 7.
Their Latin name is 'oenanthe oenanthe' and is derived from the Greek 'oenos' for 'wine' and 'anthos' for 'flower', refering to their return to Greece in the spring just as the grapevines blossom. The English name Wheatear is not derived from 'wheat' or any sense of 'ear,' but is derived from the Anglo Saxon 'ear' for 'arse' and 'hwit' for 'white' because of its white rump. The name for an earwig comes from the same source and means 'wiggly arse'. Wheatears have many local nicknames which reflect their calls or behaviour. These include; 'chick-chack', 'fallow chat', 'coney chuck', 'stone chucker', 'white tail' and 'clod hopper'.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, Wheatears were considered a delicacy in England, called 'the English ortolan' and Sussex shepherds would supplement their income by selling birds they trapped.
The Black-throated Diver is a summer visitor to the remote lochs of northern Scotland. Like other Divers, it moves about the water with ease but is clumsy on land having its legs set so far back. It swims with its bill held straight like the Great Northern Diver. For the rest of the year, it can be found on Britain's northern coasts.
It is a large, smart, monochromatic Diver in its summer plumage. The Black-throated Diver has a distinctive black throat patch, a silky grey head and neck, a black and white chequered back, and a black dagger bill. All very Art Deco. In the winter, they turn dark grey above and white below with an obvious white oval patch on their side. They look long and thin in flight with their necks held out straight while issuing a frog-like croaking call. Other calls include a drawn-out "wup-woo-ee" wail at their breeding grounds.
Similar to other Divers, the Back-throated Diver feeds mainly on fish and can stay underwater for ages. Most Black-throated Divers search for food alone, although some small groups do gather during the winter to feed together. Just before diving, it stretches and holds its neck up at full length, then dives with a small upward jump. Their favourite food includes gobies, herrings, sprats, and sand-eels, though they will also eat insects and crabs.
Black-throated Divers pair for life and breed on large freshwater lakes from April or soon after the spring thaw. The nest is built on an island close to the water's edge. Dad constructs the nest using moss and water weeds with the help of mum (who points out where he has gone wrong). They both incubate the 2 eggs for 30 days. The youngsters leave the nest soon after hatching and are cared for by both parents, often being left alone while mum and dad go to get food. After a few weeks, the youngsters can feed themselves but mum and dad continue to provide fish until they can fly and become independent 60 days later. The youngsters won't become fully mature for 2-3 years.
Less than 200 pairs breed in Britain though numbers swell to 500 in winter with birds from northern Europe. The Black-throated Divers are easily disturbed when breeding and are also vulnerable to marine pollution. They are Amber Listed. The oldest ringed Black-throated Diver was 27 though most live for 12 years.
There Latin name is 'gavia arctica' where 'gavia' comes from the Latin for 'sea mew' and 'arctica' is Latin for 'northern' or 'Arctic'. Their English name comes from its obvious breeding throat patch. In America, it is called the 'Arctic loon'.
The Red-throated Diver is the smallest and slimmest Diver. Like the Great Northern Diver, it sits low in the water with an upright neck but holds its bill tilted upwards. It is the most common of the British Divers. It is usually seen singly though can form loose flocks, bobbing about around our coasts in winter or on Scottish lochs in the summer.
In winter, the Red-throated Diver is a nondescript bird, greyish above fading to white below with white spots on its back and pale around its eye. In summer, The Red-throated Diver lives up to its name with a distinctive red patch on its throat and has a velvet grey head and neck, a dark grey back, narrow white stripes on its neck and white underparts. In flight, it looks hunchbacked with its drooped thin neck and its wings being lifted high above its back. It makes short quacks in flight and harsh barks or weird wailing calls when on the breeding grounds.
Red-throated Divers hunt fish by diving with a jump and can stay underwater for over a minute. Like other Divers, it is well adapted to the water with dense bones that help it to stay submerged, legs set back to provide excellent propulsion, and a body that is long and streamlined. Their diet is mainly fish though they will eat amphibians, molluscs, crustaceans, invertebrates, and plant material.
The Red-throated Diver breeds on the freshwater lakes and lochs of northern Europe. Following a noisy air display, mum and dad settle down to build the nest from a heap of vegetation close to the water's edge. Both parents incubate the 2 spotted eggs which hatch after 27 days. The youngsters leave the nest the next day, and mum and dad feed them, often flying out to the sea to find food. The youngsters can fly 43 days later though don't become fully mature adults for 2-3 years. Unlike other Divers, the Red-throated Diver does its moult soon after breeding, in late summer or early autumn, shedding all its flight feathers at once and becoming flightless for 3-4 weeks.
About 1,300 Red-throated Divers breed in Britain. The number swells to 17,000 in winter with birds coming here from Scandinavia, Greenland and Iceland. In harsh winters, Red-throated Divers may go as far south as the Mediterranean to get warm. Their major threats are oil spills, pollution, and fishing nets. The oldest recorded Red-throated Diver lived to 23 years old.
Their Latin name is 'gavia stellata' where 'gavia' is the Latin for an unidentified seabird or 'sea mew' and 'stellata' means 'set with stars' or 'starry', referring to its speckled back in winter. The English name is straightforward as it has a red throat and dives, though a few local names include 'sprat borer' from the fish it likes to eat. The Americans call it a 'red-throated loon' from its calls, and the Scots call it a 'rain goose' because it was thought to predict the weather. Its short cries indicated fine weather and its long, plaintive cries meant it would rain and was time to get the bagpipes out.
