Wet My Lips

An excellent evening at Inner Marsh Farm last night produced one, possibly two, calling Quail, three Hobbies and a Green Sandpiper.

Things started slowly, although I was cheered by the sight of the two adult Oystercatchers reunited with their last chick.

The Green Sandpiper started the ball rolling, spotted skulking in the corner of No. 2 pool. After feeding briefly the bird took flight, gave a couple of verses of its lovely call, climbed, and headed south.

Next on the bill was a raptor picked-up soaring over the woodland where the Little Egrets breed. After some deliberation due to poor light and distant observation, the original call of Hobby was confirmed as the falcon drifted towards Burton Wood.

It was soon joined by another Hobby of a more diminutive stature, signifying a probable pair. They didn’t seem to be hunting, merely flying for sheer pleasure in the glorious evening sun. Incredibly, the birds were they joined by a third bird that showed no hesitation in joining the aerial dance.

In fading light, time was called and three fellow birders and I headed back to the car park. One of these, Stan Skelton, mentioned that he thought he had heard a Quail calling on a previous evening from the field near the bench. Walking up the slope we heard nothing, but about thirty yards past the bench there was no mistaking the distinctive sound of a Quail calling: Wet-My-Lips, Wet-My-Lips!

It appeared at one point that two birds may be present as some calls seem to overlap. Nevertheless, I suppose we should be grateful that one individual has managed to avoid being dinner for a sustainability-challenged Mediterranean peasant.

Until later.

Life through a Lens

When I first started birding, I was led to believe that bird watchers were generally a grumpy, cliquey and taciturn bunch with little time for novices. After a few years in the business now, I can say that this is largely unfounded – in fact in most cases the complete opposite is true and I have met many informative, interesting and friendly people.

There is however, one large blue bottle hovering menacingly over the ointment: the selfish behaviour of some photographers, and yesterday, I witnessed yet another example of crass behaviour from another wannabe Lord Snowdon.

Keen to photograph a Black-tailed Godwit close to the right-hand side of the hide he walked over and shoved himself in between myself and two other people sitting to my right without uttering a word. Still not satisfied that he was near enough – despite having a lens the size of a nuclear warhead – he then proceeded to ram himself in the corner of the hide forcing myself and the other two birders to move.

Happy that he was now as close as humanly possible, he fired approximately 2,000 frames over the next fifteen minutes and exclaimed loudly to everybody in the hide (obviously assuming us all to be idiots) how the bird was clearly a juvenile – it was an adult moulting. When I explained this his response was “Well, it’s not red like the rest is it.”

This is by no means a unique incident. Recently a photographer had to be removed from the Hen Harrier roost at Parkgate – evidently unconcerned about the distress he would cause the birds. The over-wintering Waxwings at Wepre Park also suffered from intruding paparazzi and must have been more photographed than Princess Diana was in her entire life.

Such actions are difficult to explain and raise many questions. Like a heroin addict some snappers seem only able to focus on one thing - getting a hit - or in this case a picture (or 2,000) - with no regard paid to the object or fellow observers. When in possession they then proceed to overdose heavily – how is it possible to look through all the frames properly, and how many pictures does the world need of Waxwings?

Digital cameras are largely to blame for this phenomenon as people do not have to be judicious in the use of their clicking finger. It seems the ‘art’ of photography has now been reduced to the law of averages.

Possession of a massive lens also seems – in some delusional minds at least – to transport the owner to a new high caste of nature watcher where no etiquette or rules need to be observed and where everybody else’s needs are secondary.

I do not wish to tarnish every photographer with the same brush and I do appreciate some of the wonderful images that are taken, but sometimes I think some of you need to take a step back and look at the wider ‘picture.’

Until later.

Can’t See The Wood For The Teas

Perhaps mid July is the time for rare sandpipers at Conwy – almost three years ago to the day I was standing in exactly the same spot looking at a Stilt Sandpiper. Today’s Wood Sandpiper would probably fall into the uncommon category rather than mega, but what it lacks in scarcity it more than makes up for in its subtly attractive plumage.

Conwy is not my favourite reserve by a long stretch – a reserve where the RSPB has almost provocatively set out to alienate ‘serious’ birders in its quest to gain a broader appeal. Why else would you build a coffee shop on a prime hide location?

But I am not a churlish man – most of the time anyway – so as I was en route from Anglesey I decided to pay a visit.

The bird was a little difficult to locate at first, but finally revealed itself feeding with Redshanks in front of Starbucks.

Plenty of other waders too: a handful of Dunlin, Common Sandpiper and Blackwit, plus large flocks of Oystercatcher, Redshank and a roost of Curlew containing a couple of Whimbrel.

I also had time to nip into Morfa Madyrn over a fairly low high tide. The hides here seem to be suffering from a rather chronic form of vandalism that will probably render them unusable in about 2043.

A few hundred Sandwich Terns were the highlight – with good numbers of juveniles too. Out on the water, twenty or so Red-breasted Merganser were taking it easy and a few Great Crested Grebes provided some company.

Now for the Terek's Sandpiper!

Until later.

Is There Anybody Out There?

Following a few days of modest north-westerly winds I headed for the Point of Ayr this morning for a spot of seawatching. And that’s exactly what I did – watch a mostly empty sea for two hours!

The sum total of the first half hour was a handful of Gannets – more far out than a catatonic hippy – fishing around the wind turbines.

A trickle of Sandwich Terns over the next hour or so was equally disappointing and things didn’t improve too much over the last 30 minutes – two sluggish Kittiwakes and a more dynamic Manxie the only birds of note.

The whole episode reminded me of a line from Blackadder 4: “It started badly, tailed-off a little in the middle and the less said about the end the better.”

A complete waste of time really, but that’s just the way it roles sometimes I suppose.

On a more positive note the wader numbers seem to be building up nicely with plenty of Curlew and Redshank roosting on the marsh over the high tide.

Until later.

Half Term Report

Now that things are a little slow on the bird front – yesterday’s Cranes notwithstanding – I thought I’d have a trawl through my records and compile a list of my personal wildlife highlights for the year so far…

10. Great Grey Shrike

Following about ten blanks and additional trips to Fenn’s/Whixall Moss, I finally managed to find a ‘Butcher Bird’ at Cloclaenog Forest. The floodgates were then opened and I saw the bird twice more: at the top of Bron Banog and next perched on a telegraph wire adjacent to the main road to Denbigh.

9. Garth Wood

This humble and scruffy woodland hidden behind the village of Ffynonngroyw near Prestatyn barely gets a mention on the Dee Estuary website, yet this spring I have recorded Pied Flycatcher, Wood Warbler, Marsh Tit, Garden Warbler and Dipper.
It’s only small, but its composition of mixed woodland provides an excellent habitat.

8. Lesser Spotted Woodpecker

They are not a myth! Persistence paid at Moore Nature Reserve when I eventually found our most wee woodpecker.

7. Twite

A flock of c30 Twite over-wintering in the Connah’s Quay area was an absolute joy to observe. I first saw them near the West Hide, but they were most confiding when roosting in one of the small trees along the breakwater between the River Dee and White Sands, where they provided me with both company and entertainment during my WeBS counts!

7. The Back Garden

Still no finches, but a large number of squabbling House Sparrows, wintering Blackcaps and breeding Blackbirds, Robins, Blue Tits and Dunnocks have all utilised the dining facilities at Casa Del Shenton this year.

6. Point of Ayr Seawatching

A couple of days seawatching at the back-end of March on the dunes at Talacre produced a mega flock of 6,000 -7,000 Common Scoter blown close to the shoreline by a strong northerly wind. I also nailed a bogey bird – the Black-throated Diver and enjoyed excellent views of a Glaucous Gull and a flock of Snow Buntings. A Harbour Porpoise was another added treat! Let’s hope the hide is replaced at my top birding site on the Dee.

5. Black Tern

It always seems ludicrous to go birding in foul weather and I was asking myself some pretty serious questions regarding my sanity during a ferociously wet mid May’s evening at Inner Marsh Farm. Bad weather brings in the birds though and this night was no exception – a heavy downpour downed a cracking Black Tern on passage!

4. Painted Ladies

I’m still not exactly a world authority on insects, but this spring my eyes have opened to the beauty and variety of our non-feathered flying friends. This year’s incredible irruption of Painted Lady butterflies has been a joy to behold.

3. The Welsh Uplands

I have been on a number of superb walks through the moors and mountains of Wales this spring and seen some fabulous birds: 3 male Hen Harriers; legions of Whinchat and breeding Dunlin on Cadair Berwyn; eight Cuckoos; and Redstarts virtually everywhere!

2. Burton Marsh’s Short-eared Owls

Whether it was down to an excellent breeding season, an unusually high influx of migrants from the continent or a high vole population, the mass of Short-eared Owls on Burton Marsh was incredible. My highest count was 27 birds at the end of February, but there may have been up to 50 across the entire estuary.

1. My First Otter

No doubting the star turn so far this year – cracking views of Otter hunting in broad daylight on the River Severn at Dolydd Hafren in Montgomeryshire. Enough said!

Until later.

Grus Grus Grus Grus

I have often said that I would not get down on my hands and knees for anybody – except perhaps for Juliette Binoche in a dominatrix outfit, but that's another story!

Today, however, I found myself crawling through the undergrowth for a hundred yards or so whilst simultaneously swatting horse flies. The reason: two Common Cranes had just flown into Fenn’s Moss and landed on one of the flashes. (SJ494367, roughly).

Keen to avoid detection I hit the deck, and there I remained for an hour and a half no more than twenty yards or so from the birds at my nearest point. It was incredible to see these most stately of birds at such close proximity and I sat transfixed watching them preening, drinking and feeding. They were incredibly wary too, reacting to every noise – particularly to the distant barking of dogs.

When I finally managed to tear myself away, I took some time out to look for a hawking Hobby. There were squadrons of dragonflies but no Hobby, although a Kestrel and a few Buzzards hunted.

Another surprise was two Little Ringed Plover on one of the dried out pools – one juvenile bird and one adult. Maybe they have bred this year?

There were very few other birds around – the breeding Curlews seem to have departed and there was little evidence of much passerine activity aside from the odd Reed Bunting and Meadow Pipit.

But, as on most occasions, it tends to be a matter of quality rather than quantity on the mosses!

Until later.