Back In Black

A gorgeous morning on Fenn’s and Whixall Mosses failed to produce either the Great Grey Shrike of Hen Harrier reported yesterday, but the Halloween sunshine did bring out a few dragonflies including a spooky Black Darter.

Birding can be hard going here and today was no exception - the best I had turned up after the first hour was a Green Woodpecker flying at a fair distance and a handful of Stonechats.

Infact, there were probably more birders than birds today, including one lucky punter who said he had seen the butcher bird perched on the weather station a little earlier. Perhaps this species has a curious fetish for wind meters and rain gauges as the birds that over winter at Cloclaenog similarly haunt the weather station atop of Bron Banog.

The Phylloscopus warbler identification challenge has entered a new stage with the discovery of a Green/Greenish Warbler at Cornwall today, following on from the Eastern Crowned Warbler in South Shields.

I must confess that during my many hours birding in India, I have tended not to concentrate too hard on phylloscopus warblers due to the huge problems in identifying these birds given that there are so many similar species. Credit to the birders then, who not only managed to find theses birds but correctly identified them too.

Still, I am yet to be convinced on the wisdom of diving hundreds if miles just to catch a glimpse of what in the general scheme of things are, let’s face it, fairly bland and unremarkable birds: life is just too short Mr Tickell, Mr Brooks and Mr Tytler.

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.

Moss Bros

Fenn’s and Whixall Moss straddle the English/Welsh border around five miles west of Whitchurch. The area was formerly plundered for its peat, but now under the ownership of English Nature, the bog is managed as a nature reserve.

Birding can be a frustrating business here; the unique environment holds little treasure, but the focus is very much on quality rather than quality.

Five minutes after setting-up my scope and I am on to a pair of Hobby in full-on acrobatic display flight – the first time I have ever seen this. Being in close proximity to one another, the size difference between the sexes is also clearly apparent. My encounter is all too brief though as circling higher and higher, they soon disappear in to the ether.

Up to five pairs now breed in the vicinity with even higher numbers congregating on migration. This is s bird that seems to be going from strength to strength in the UK, no doubt aided by the increasing number of dragonflies present in our cleaner waterways. This population increase mirrors the inexorable rise in the numbers of other raptors – fantastic!

Curlew - on the other hand - face tough times. Many of their traditional breeding sites have been drained and as a UK breeder they face an uncertain future. Thankfully, the moss is a stronghold for my favourite wading bird. I never tire of hearing their delicious calls, and their rising trill sounds just at home on a lowland bog as it does on a cold and dank winter morning on an estuary. Up to twenty birds are present today, only outnumbered by the Black-headed Gulls.

Also adding to soundtrack is a Cuckoo, several Reed Buntings and the quintessential song of British summertime: the Skylark.

Before hitting the road, I head for a non-descript ‘L-shaped’ pool in the middle of the moss. It is home to one of the UK rarest insects: the White-faced Darter. As the skies cloud-up, the critters seem unwilling to show themselves. Close inspection of the bank comes up trumps though as one is located perched on a stick. It won’t budge, so for the first time in my life, the scope comes out for an insect. And boy was it worth it – beauty and poise personified.

Until later.