Dowitchers & Howitzers

Being what you might call a ‘wader-man’, I took a diversion to Marshside this morning to grab a look at the latest vagrant shorebird from stateside. Nel’s hide was rammed when I arrived, so I had to settle for a back seat until one of the front benches was vacated.

When I finally sat down, the Long-billed Dowitcher could be seen dozing in the middle of a flock of Godwits and Redshank that it had chummed-up with. No more then twenty yards away and affording superb views through the scope, it revealed its wonderful chequered plumage. It reminded me of a Snipe, although considerably more stately – a lovely bird.

Predictably the paparazzi were present and whenever the bird initiated any sort of movement it was blasted with a torrent of semi-automatic shutter; the snipers bring aroused into action by the emergence of its bill and practically orgasmic at the flap of a wing.

A few Pink-footed Geese, a sprinkling of Wigeon and my chilling hands were a few timely reminders of autumn. No doubt the Pinks will be arriving in greater numbers throughout this month and October – let’s hope us denizens of the Dee Estuary are treated to another over-wintering flock this year.

Swans, ducks and waders are all indictors of the onset of winter, but to me it is the large skeins of Geese commuting volubly across the darkening skies that are the true sign that: times, they are a changin’.

Apparently up to ¼ of a million Pink-footed Geese were counted in Iceland a couple of weeks ago, the majority of the world population. It is heartening that in todays over populated earth such magnificent spectacles of nature can still be witnessed. The venal bankers and slippery politicians may play havoc with our material welfare, but providing the birds are back for winter, then everything is okay with me. Amen.

Until later.

Ynys-Hir/Chat Masala

On Monday morning I decided to tootle down to the gorgeous RSPB reserve at Ynys-Hir on the Dyfi estuary. Roads as clear as a oil of ulay model’s skin meant the journey from Chester took around 90 minutes and I arrived about an hour before high tide.

I darted down to the Saltings hide and started to scan through the modest numbers waders being forced up the saltmarsh. Both Godwits were present as were a handful of Dunlin, Oysties, Redshank and Curlew. The river was a little more interesting with seven loafing Goosander and a manic Kingfisher that kept zipping around like a mini-torpedo with no sense of direction.

When the tide had peaked I moved to the Marian Mawr hide. The hide is beautifully positioned; the whole of the estuary and two ranges of mountains are visible. In front of the hide are a few pools and it was in here that I located the surprise bird of the day – a juvenile Scaup. For a notoriously dozey bird, the duck was actually fairly active and fed for the two hours I was there.

Highlights from the pleasant vigil included a pair of Peregrines, and a wonderfully close view of a Red Kite being bombed by a Raven.

In order to work of my lunch I headed to the Breakwater hide – a longish walk that takes in the lion’s share of the reserve. The sun had brought out tons of dragonflies and tens of Speckled Woods. The woodland itself was fairly quiet with all of the spring migrants having packed up their bags and headed back to Africa. On the flooded meadows a vanguard of Wigeon had arrived, but I could not locate the trio of Barnacle Geese that had been logged the day previous.

A cracking day and not even being stuck behind a caravan for 60 minutes on the way home could ruin it!

Until later.

P.S – If anybody local is actually reading this blog (well there could be), four Whinchat were on the Gowy Meadows CWT this evening with even more Stonechat. I have also noticed that somebody has bagged a Merlin down here recently according to Birdguides.

Second Toughest In the Infants

It was one of those days today when it paid to be layered-up. Sun out equalled summer, yet when it dipped behind the clouds, the cold claw of autumn was firming tapping you on the shoulder.

Today being WeBS day, I was back out on the White Sands area of the Dee Estuary on my first anniversary of taking up this area. I’ve had some great birds over the last twelve months, my personal highlight being a count of twenty seven Short-eared Owls last winter.

The tide was very high this afternoon, although not as high as during the night when the only 10 plus metre tide of the autumn was scheduled. Evidence of this was present in the form of numerous small pools that has formed at the base of the marsh, many of which played host to hundreds of Redshanks.

It was when counting the birds in one of the flashes that I caught sight of a hunting juvenile female Peregrine trying to nail a Teal. Although not managing to grab the hapless duck in its talons, it had succeeded in striking the bird several times rendering it severely injured. When it finally issued the coup de grace and had returned to enjoy its quarry, an opportunistic Great-black Backed Gull swiftly moved in and claimed the meal for itself. The law of the jungle, I guess.

I doubt the falcon had been going without though. Whilst I was walking along the breakwater I happened across remains of two Woodpigeons and one Feral Pigeon. Each had had the head torn off and the torso completely had been completely consumed. The female of the species is indeed more deadly than the male.

I suspect that the falcon was one of the two juvenile Peregrines I had seen during my last visit. The birds were hunting then, albeit more clumsily. Clearly over the last month at least one of them had made significant progress in the journey from apprentice to master. Soon it may well be ready to take up its position as matriarch of the estuary – ruler of all it surveys.

Quite simply, a misty winter’s morning on the Dee Estuary would not be complete without the sight of a Peregrine perched on a lookout post. Ever alert, tense, twitchy, these falcons are always poised, ready to dispense death on the wing that is both thrilling and essential. And don’t we just love it.

Until later.

The Redshank Redemption

I am always surprised how few people can be found at Connah’s Quay west hide during a decent high tide. A fiesta of waders is pretty much guaranteed – the huge, colourful flock of Black-tailed Godwits alone are worth the trip.

This morning, as per usual, I got my timing slightly wrong and arrived at the point when most of the waders had been pushed towards Flint. Depending on the level of the tide, there is a normally a window of about 15-20 minutes when most of the waders are clustered onto an ever shrinking area of mud in front of the double-decker hide before they are eventually forced on to the saltmarsh to roost.

Nevertheless, hundreds of Blackwits, Redshank, Knot and Dunlin were still trying to ignore the advancing tide and grab a last tasty morsel before the flats become submerged. The numbers of Redshank in particular are pretty impressive this year – possibly up to 2,500; traditionally the highest concentrations are at Heswall, but Oakenholt seems to be an increasingly popular choice.

Eventually, the remaining birds joined the mass ranks of Oystercatcher further up the shore and I headed over to the bunded pools, but not before I had cracking views of a Kingfisher perched next to the stream.

The Kingfisher may have followed me, as when I opened the hide shutter one was busy demolishing a small fish from a cunningly placed perch. The pools were teeming with more Redshank, and after a painstaking search with the ‘scope I managed to winkle-out 10 Greenshank and 8 Spotted Redshank. There may well have been more ‘shanks but the vegetation was fairly high and a Grey Heron and a Buzzard took turns in spooking the birds.

Until later.

The Joy Of Pecs

Today fell into two neat chapters: a jaunt around Inner Marsh Farm and environs and an unexpected trip to Saughall on the outskirts of Chester.

A dreech morning down at the ‘farm was brightened up this morning by the return of Sunday’s brace of Pectoral Sandpipers. They shared the stage – a mud island, anyway – with a cracking juvenile Curlew Sandpiper; a trio of real beauties! Also on number two pool were a handful of Ruff and a Greenshank.

In truth, the diminutive waders had stolen a little of my thunder. I had found a plush juvenile Spotted Flycatcher on the way down to the hide and when I announced the news to the assembled birding brethren it barely registered a jot of interest. All eyes were on Uncle Sam’s (or Comrade Boris’) shorebirds.

Sadly, the birds didn’t hang around and flew out towards the marsh – much in the same vain as Sunday. Like the mega Puffin in Kent, these birds seem intent on playing it coy (Is it just me, or do other people hope that this bird is never re-found – can you imagine the hell it will endure).

After IMF, I and another birder, Ray, went for a quick walk to Burton Point. Two ringtail Hen Harriers having a little scuffle confirmed that there at least a pair on the estuary this autumn, but the most eventful encounter was the dressing-down we received from a irascible farmer for walking a massive hundred yards past the guard post. Why are farmers so chuffing miserable?

On the way back to Chester and under the directions of Ray, I managed to bag my first Buzzard/Red-tailed Hawk. This hybrid falconer’s bird has apparently been in residence in a field adjacent to the cycle path that runs through Saughall for three years. We located it on its favourite perch – a huge electricity pylon. A mean looking bird it is too!

Until later.

Pointless

My search for migrants at the Point of Ayr and Talacre this morning certainly came up trumps, although I did not expect them to be seven eastern European workers playing football on the beach!

Truth be told, it was hardly classic conditions for a fall, but considering the recent spell of light north-easterlies I had hoped for at least something. The best I could muster was two Snipe, a Bullfinch, a Kestrel and six Stonechats – hardly the stuff of legend.

I could have started a little earlier too. Quarter-past nine in the morning could hardly be called ‘getting up with the larks’ and it does pay in this game to be out and at ‘em at first light. This tactic also means that one tends to step on virgin territory and affords you the chance of covering the ground before Fido goes out on his morning constitutional.

I am going to persist at this location of the autumn though. The warren is full of bushes bursting with fuel-laden berries – a veritable service station for passerines on the move. It was like walking through a banqueting hall with all the tables brimming with food just before the guests are due to arrive.

With the high tides coming up over the weekend, I will probably have another crack of the whip on Friday morning - a little stroll across the dunes searching for migrants, followed by a few hours in the chair seawatching. Sounds just the ticket.

Until later.

Show Us Your Pecs

One for the ladies today....unless you are Katie Price.

As I settled down on Sunday evening for some serious post-walk rest and recuperation the phone rang – it was Geoff Robinson with news that two Pectoral Sandpipers were at Inner Marsh Farm.

These American waders have eluded me so far – the last one being a Knot at Leighton Moss – so it was straight to the bat mobile. Although a relatively uncommon bird, it is no surprise that a decent wader has rocked-up at IMF – the water levels are really low at the moment leaving plenty of exposed mud. Prime shorebird real estate.

The news must have spread quickly as the car park was rammed. Fortunately many people were leaving when I arrived, so there was a little bit of space in the hide when I eventually got there.

The birds were feeding on the largest islet of mud and despite having only seen them on paper they are really very distinctive – particularly the long primary projection. Unfortunately, after no more than fifteen minutes the waders tagged-on to a flock of Lapwing heading out on to the marsh. Gone.

Other birds on the manor included circa half a dozen Ruff and a Greenshank. Snoozing on the back of number one pool was a drake Pochard – a rare bird here and possibly another reserve first!

If the water levels stay at this level then I would bet against something really good turning up this month. Little Stint must surely be next on the roster, what chance of a Temmincks?

Until later.

Walkabout/Naturism In The Raw

The recent spell of clement weather has lured me back over Offa’s Dyke and in to enemy territory over the last few days.

On Friday I undertook a near marathon length walk around Llyn Brenig and Alwen Reservoir that was surprisingly quiet on the birding front. A couple of Red Grouse in the reserve area to the north of Brenig was nice to see – both birds made me jump out of my skin, flying up and calling loudly after I had practically trod on them.

The water level of both lakes in fairly low at the moment, and the exposed shoreline was brimming with a swarm of pipits and wagtails feeding on insects. The lake itself was largely devoid of action save a few Cormorants. Great Crested Grebes seem to have disappeared from this site entirely, although they do occupy adjacent smaller water bodies.

Saturday was spent ambling around Newborough Warren on Anglesey, and this location was slow for birds too. Ynys Llandwyn was the most productive area hosting small flocks of Oystercatcher, Ringed Plover, Turnstone and some gloriously plumaged Sanderlings. The rocks around the promontory were busy too with plenty of Cormorants, Shags and Herring Gulls – the snooty Cormorants occupying a single outcrop to themselves.

Out on the glass like sea there was no evidence that any of the winter visitors had taken up residence. I find this area can be excellent for grebes and divers come late autumn, but until the temperature dips, the bays are a playground for boats rather than birds.

The only other sighting was a rather unwelcome one: a pair of least-clothed nudists (starkus bareallicus) lounging on the beach.

Until later.

They Seek Him Here, They Seek Him There

I’m back from a failed mission this evening. The Baird’s Sandpiper at Traeth Dulas failed to put in an appearance today, although there were a couple of sketchy reports from early this morning and a later one of a reported sighting in flight after noon.

There was compensation though in the form of up to seven juvenile Curlew Sandpipers and a winter-plumaged Med Gull. The bijou estuary also held good numbers of commoner waders such as Dunlin, Ringed Plover and Curlew and other birds of note included a handful of Little Egret and a few flyover Ravens.

It’s a cracking, picturesque little bay really, and I confess that had this wader not been found then I would never have given the place a second glance on the map. There seem to be so many excellent birding areas in Anglesey – one can only imagine the number of rarities that pass through undetected at this chronically under-watched island.

One bird that didn’t go unnoticed was a cracking Bonxie I watched lumbering past Point Lynas this afternoon after I had given up on the elusive yankee shorebird and gone seawatching. To be truthful, passage was very light, but a spectacular feeding frenzy just off shore included hundreds of Auks, Gannets, Terns and Manxies.

It was a little surprising that no more Skuas were attracted to the melee, or indeed Porpoise. Just as I was about to pack up, I caught a gull flying in front of a massive oil tanker anchored offshore. It looked distinctly like a Sabine’s gull, but irritatingly the bird flew away from me at an angle that meant I could not get a good look at the wings. It will just have to go down in that increasingly long list of probables…

Until later.

Purple Haze

I popped over to Rednal today to try and winkle-out the Purple Heron that has been seen on and off over the last few days. I was parched when I arrived as none of the roadside cafes on the A483 and A5 had come up with a good enough pun to lure me in. Where is ‘Everything under the Bun’ when you need it?

The bird had been observed feeding along the fringes of the canal, but despite a couple of hours of searching I could not locate it. Perhaps the heron has now moved on, or more likely the bird was skulking in a marshy area on the opposite side of the waterway; certainly the birds I have seen in India tend to stick to cover more then other herons.

If the locals are to believe, the area is a hotspot for large water birds. One chap claimed that in the last two years he had seen a White Stork and a pair of Common Cranes in local fields. Certainly, given the numerous sightings of cranes in the Shropshire area over the last two summers the latter report must be reasonably credible. Rednal: wetland par excellence.

Despite the no show the morning was by no means a disappointment. There were tons of butterflies and dragonflies along the toe path including numerous Migrant Hawkers and Speckled Woods.

Off to Anglesey tomorrow to belatedly try and connect with the Baird’s Sandpiper at Traeth Dulas. Then I’ll probably hit the north coast for a spot of sea watching now that my sight has recovered its acuity following last week’s mammoth sessions!

Until later.

All in the best possible taste

I’ve not been out birding but something has got my back up, so time to editorialise. I have been reading an excellent blog for some time by a chap called John Dempsey whom seems to be based somewhere around the coffin-dodging area of Southport.

A few days ago he wrote a post accompanied by a picture that rather took me aback: it was an image of several dead seabirds under the caption “Everybody say Cheese.”

Following the gales last week, it is not unexpected to see casualties washed-up on the beach; indeed one could argue that such extreme weather is nature’s way of culling the sick and weak. Far larger wrecks of seabirds are regrettably a regular occurrence as too are oil spills, so the relatively modest losses last week are mere bagatelle.

What surprised me was the lack of respect shown to the dead birds. After all, you would hardly take a picture of a drown person on a beach and write a similar caption underneath (an extreme example, I know, but I’m just trying to get a point across).

A few obtuse individuals who read my post rather misunderstood what I was trying to say (my fault quite probably) and inferred that I was of a rather sensitive disposition and could not take nature complete in tooth and claw – they could not be more wrong.

Anyway, enough whinging. Time to go and maintain my sixteen-hour vigil in the back garden to ensure no Sparrowhawks eat any birds from my back garden. There will be no death on this planet.

Until later.

A Taste of the Mediterranean

Another day, another seawatch. I was back on the dunes again this morning for another session in the saddle (well, fold-away seat). The wind had dropped today and switched a little to the south-west. Hardly ideal conditions, but it certainly brought home the bacon!

After a classic case of ‘you should have been here ten minutes ago, there was a Pomarine Skua past’ my spirits soon lifted after I latched onto a Leach’s Petrel – my first of the year. Despite the relatively calm conditions, the bird was hard to follow as it frequently dipped down into the shallow troughs.

There were plenty of terns around again today, making life relatively easy for the dozen or so Arctic Skuas present offshore. I watched numerous spectacular chases; these pirates of the oceans are truly the Peregrine Falcons of the sea – a perfect balance of size, strength and manoeuvrability.

A more cumbersome Bonxie was the next bird past, although it was at considerable distance. Much closer in, I picked up a shearwater flying like the clappers. When the bird finally flipped over it revealed the classic dark underside of a Balearic Shearwater! This was a first for me and confirmed by a fellow more experienced observer.

And then the birds completely dried-up: nothing. The wind was now more of a breeze and the sky was coloured every shade of grey imaginable from a deep charcoal to an off-white. Out on the water, the waves had flattened and an air of calm hung over the leaden water. It was time to pack-up the gear and await the next storm.

Until later.

Right People, Right Time, Just The Wrong Location

With the continuing strong winds I was back over to the Point Of Ayr this morning for the next course of seawatching. Today I decided to join a couple of chaps on top of the dunes – one of whom was in possession of the type of thick, long, white beard you only see on busts of greek philosophers. Superb.

If anything, the wind had abated a little today and shifted more to the north-west. Despite the favourable conditions, the fare was rather poor with only a brace of distant dark-phase Arctic Skuas keeping up the interest over the first ninety minutes.

After a couple of hours there was the first hint of excitement when a possible petrel was picked up on the horizon. I did not get a decent view of the bird as it was distant and keeping well down in the troughs – a little too far to claim a Leach’s I reckon!

Then, just as the morning was about to fall flat on its face, an unexpected bird turned up in the shape of a Black Guillemot – my first on the Dee Estuary. Like its auk cousins it was flying low and close to the shore, revealing itself to be an adult moulting into winter plumage.

After three hours of sustained protest from my numbed backside I decided to call it day and head back to the hutch. A day that had promised much had been a bit of an anti-climax really, especially when I logged on the internet and saw that New Brighton had recorded a Sabine’s Gull, Balearic Shearwater and Long-tailed Skua.

But, hey, that’s just the way it roles sometimes.

Until later.

Antipasto

A four hour session at the Point of Ayr offered a hint of hopefully what is to come tomorrow should the wind maintain its strength and veer more to the north-west: a main course of skua in a shearwater jus, with a side serving of petrels.

The hors d’oeuvre was not without merit though. The highlight was a cracking Bonxie mixing it with the Gannets – its distinctive white wing flash and bulk making it identifiable from a good distance.

Much closer in a steady stream of Sandwich Terns attracted the interest of numerous Arctic Skuas - two of which double-teamed a hapless tern into disgorging its meal.
One bird, a juvenile was blown onto the beach itself, flying practically over my head!

A continued passage of birds included a few Arctic and Little Terns and as high tide approached, a handful of Fulmar, Manx Shearwaters and Guillemots battled with the headwind.

Conspicuous by their absence were Kittiwakes and it was not until the heavens opened that I just managed to locate a juvenile that had seemingly given up fighting the wind and decided it wished to be blown back into the estuary instead.

When the heavens opened for the umpteenth time I decided to call it day. After all, it is going to take all evening to clean all the sand from my scope and bins in readiness for another battering by the elements tomorrow!

Until later.

Seawatching and the City

If only I had the discipline to extricate myself from my pit at an ungodly hour, then I may have made it to the Point of Ayr this morning for a spot of seawatching. The lucky viewer who did just that bagged two Balearic and one Sooty Shearwater – two life ticks for me!

Instead I was under the influence of Bacchus, a substance I used to numb the effect of a forced viewing of Sex and the City: The Movie. Carrie and Big – what a pair of cards.

All is not lost though. Winds are strengthening tomorrow – to gale force – although they will be blowing more westerly than is ideal. Still, it is well worth a punt in the morning and I would not bet against the first Leach’s Petrel of the year putting in an appearance.

The tricky decision is where to watch. I’ll probably take a punt at New Brighton tomorrow as there are a few places to shelter and it’s going to be wet! Here is the wish list:

Sooty Shearwater, Balearic Shearwater, Arctic Skua, Great Skua, Pomarine Skua, Long-tailed Skua, Leach’s Petrel, Storm Petrel, Sabine’s Gull and Grey Phalarope.

A brief visit to Inner Marsh Farm this morning produced little except from a Greenshank and the three Ruff that seem to have taken up residency. fLapwing numbers are building nicely though and a few drake Mallards are starting to emerge from eclipse plumage.

Until later.

Gone For a Burton

A pleasant amble along the fringes of Burton Marsh produced some goodies this morning - as soon as I had got out of my car at Denhall Lane, a Green Sandpiper could be heard calling manically from somewhere out on the marsh.

There was a fairly brisk wind, and a good number of Kestrels were utilising this to hang in the air – no need for a weather cock when these falcons are round.

Whilst looking at the horizon for any signs of a harrier my attention was drawn to a modest sized flock of wildfowl veering up into the sky. The white wing panels on several of the drakes revealed their identity to be Wigeon – a flock of fifty or so, yet another indication of autumn!

The cause of their panic was soon on the scene – a hunting Peregrine falcon. I can’t be too sure because of the distance, but I’d stick my neck out and say it was a young female. Like most juvenile peregrines, the hunt seemed to lack the urgency and decisiveness of the adult birds being a rather half-hearted affair.

It did take delight in mobbing a ringtail hen harrier though. The bird looked pretty fresh and was probably a young ‘un. Regardless, it looked in much better shape than the rather tatty looking adult female that has been limping around recently!

Passing Decca Pools - mostly dry now – I picked out a Reeve and a Ruff prodding assiduously at the fringes of the water. Then a small raptor zipped in front of me and headed for the pool – a cracking juv/fem Merlin. Like its larger cousin, the bird seemed to lack purpose when hunting and was predictably unsuccessful.

Back at Denhall Lane two Green Sandpipers were now wigging-out, but only became visible in flight for brief periods, when they seemed to be engaged in some minor spat.

Soon their calls were drowned-out by a monster flock of Canada and Greylag Geese – a classic sign of autumn. Not long until the real deal turn up.

Until later.