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A LARGE BRACKET FUNGI, Birch Polypore, grows on a Silver Birch on a slope near the old quarry. Birches aren't long-lived trees. In my childhood I remember this as an open grassy slope, a favourite place for children to slide down, sitting on cardboard cartons. It is now mixed woodland, with Bracken and Bramble beneath. Some of the birches that have grown up since then are now reaching the end of their lives.
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Oak takes over as the birch dies away. Many of the acorns have probably been dispersed by Jays and Grey Squirrels, which spend a lot of time burying them as a cache for the winter.
A young Starling hovers to keep its position a spindly Elder twig as it eats the berries. It is in in-between plumage; dull brown juvenile plumage above, star-spangled below.
Clouds are piled up along the western horizon over the Pennines at sunset. The reddish glow beneath them looks stormy, a weather front is set to come our way over the weekend.