The Perfect Storm (inshallah)

Not much to report on the birding front at the moment. A trek up Carnedd-y-Filiast in North Wales produced bugger-all apart from a swarm of flies, a Buzzard and a Kestrel. Nevertheless, it looks like prime upland habitat, so next spring I will return with expectations of Golden Plovers galore.

Inner Marsh Farm was equally lukewarm yesterday, with only a juvenile Peregrine being of any interest. No sign of the Garganey, although I couldn’t really face another scan through the Teal.

The news is by no means all gloomy though. Despite the strong southerly winds putting wader migration on hold, a gale is predicted for the end of the week where some prime autumn seawatching could be had!

The conditions look classic with a strong south-westerly wind veering north-westerly. Fingers crossed, it could be a skua/petrel/shearwater fest by the end of the week - let’s hope the forecaster was not the individual responsible for predicting a ‘barbeque summer.’ I’m still waiting.

Until later.

They Come Over Here, Steal All Our Insects

After aborting a trip to Fenn’s Moss due to a case of the Wrath of Grapes, I decided instead to head down to Inner Marsh Farm and remain stationary until my body was returned to its normal hale state.

You could have cut the humid air with a machete this afternoon and it would also have come in handy when hacking my way through the vegetation at either side of the path to the hide.

A Hobby hunting over the wood got the ball rolling, but it was not too long before I was on a Garganey hunt. It is a bit of challenge trying to pick them out this time of year and a great deal of patience and no little luck is required – two things I am not over-blessed with!

Despite my failings, I found two birds today, hunkered down with the Teal at the back of number two pool. Also on the hide pool was up to five Ruff and a sprinkling of Blackwits.

When the sun broke through the fug a few dragonflies took to the wing including my first migrant hawker of the year. The manoeuvrability of these insects is stunning; their ability to change direction – three dimensionally – in an instant is nothing short of incredible.

A fly-by Peregrine was next on the roll-call followed by a wing-tagged Buzzard. I was a little surprised and disappointed to see this and wondered what spurious, cod-scientific reasoning was offered to gain permission for this pointless exercise.

Hangover lifted, I meandered back to the car park and offered a little prayer to the wind gods: any chance of a decent north-westerly your holiness?

Until later.

Where's Wally?

There is a game I used to play when I was a child called ‘Where’s Wally.’ There was a series of illustrations, often depicting hundreds of people and the aim of the game was to locate a character called Wally from each picture.

This morning at Inner Marsh Farm I was back playing the same game, but this time I was trying to locate a juvenile Garganey from the masses of assembled eclipse-plumaged wildfowl.

I had stumbled on the bird when scanning the margins of the pool for waders, but soon lost it when the entire pool was disturbed by the farmer and his two sheepdogs out rounding-up future lamb chops.

Fortunately the birds quickly re-settled and even more luckily I found the young Garganey amongst the first group of Teal I looked at. Armed with a Collins book I was able to nail the identity, but on closer inspection I was certain the bird I was now looking at was different to the previous one. Had I found Wally’s twin brother Willy?

I can’t be sure, but the first duck appeared to have a more obvious white spot at the base of the bill and much weaker white eye-stripes. I groomed through the remaining wildfowl but to no avail…

Great to see that work has finally started on the new part of the reserve today – the monster digging machine was in full flow this morning, angrily throwing soil across the set aside in front of the admiring wardens!

Until later.

Crake Expectations

Well, they say timing is everything. If I had opted to venture into North Wales today rather then yesterday then I would not have found myself driving along the A55 twice in two days!

Browsing the web this morning, I was drawn to a report of a Spotted Crake at Conwy, so after wolfing down my cornflakes I was back in the motor.

I arrived at just after eleven, to be ‘greeted’ by the news that the bird had not showed since ten past nine and the increasingly heavy rain seemed to add to the despondency of the assembled birders.

Thankfully, some interesting birds helped passed the time: a Goosander fishing in the lagoon and a brief glimpse of yet another Green Sandpiper were pleasant distractions.

Finally, at quarter to two the moment arrived. I caught a bird skulking at the edge of the reeds and as it emerged from the vegetation it revealed itself as our quarry – a cracking Spotted Crake!

The bird showed on and off for ten minutes before it disappeared back into the ether like one of the ghostly baseball stars in ‘Field of Dreams.’

Build a reserve, and they will come.

In a totally unrelated thread – has anybody else noticed the current trend for naming small businesses with a pun? An excellent example is a mobile caterer called ‘Everything under the Bun’ that I sometimes see parked up on the A55. Shocking

Until later.

Morfa Madryn (Reprise)

After an impressive showing last week, I was back at Morfa Madryn for yesterday’s high tide.

After badly mistiming my previous visit – I reckon you need to be hunkered-down three hours before a high tide – I was in situ much earlier.

The Oysties were already piling in to roost on the shingle spit and out in the bay Red-breasted Mergansers and GC Grebes were drifting in on the tide.

The next group of birds past was a flock of Dunlin, that for my money also contained a Little Stint but unfortunately I could no re-locate the bird.

I did find four plonkers though. An elderly couple with two ratty little hounds has decided to ignore the warning signs and walk right out on to the spit. Incredulously, the other couple were wearing binoculars and despite being more circumspect when approaching the birds caused just as much disturbance.

When the birds had re-settled I moved over to the marsh to scan through the gulls and terns. There was very good numbers of Sandwich Terns again – plenty of young ones too – and also a moulting Common Tern. From the ranks of gulls, I also managed to find a find Med Gull.

For the next hour or so the sun shined and I just sat and enjoyed the spectacle. I am really becoming quite fond of this reserve that seems incredibly under-watched. It won’t be too long before my next visit.

Until later.

Lost

In the most shameless piece of corporate placement ever, Tom Hanks' companion in the dreadful Robinson Crusoe inspired 'Cast Away' was an american football called Wilson, the name of the manufacturer.

Equally lost and probably also the victim of inclement weather was another marooned North American of the same name - a Wilson's Phalarope that pitched-up at Martin Mere in Lancashire yesterday afternoon.

Fortunately the birds was still present this morning, so it was straight to the bat mobile for my first twitch of the year.

When I rocked-up at 10:30 the bird was visible from the Ron Barker hide, albeit at a fair distance. Inexplicably, some birders were digiscoping it – must be for one of those ‘record shots’ that they are always banging on about.

Still, it was near enough to identify all the salient features, including that wonderfully delicate needle-thin bill. I was also treated to the fabulous Lancastrian dialect – there is no word better then ‘Phalarope’ to bring out the richness of those wonderful northern vowels!

After twenty minutes or so, the wader flew over to the mere pool with a juvenile Ruff in tow. Here it stayed skulking in the vegetation for an hour, before returning to one of the jheels in front of the Ron Barker hide.

On this occasion, the bird gave excellent views as it fed on insects plucked from the surface of the water.

Although I am clearly no expert, the bird looked like a juvenile moulting into winter plumage. The best person to confirm this would probably be the man himself: Alexander Wilson, the naturalist who the bird was named after. He is long dead though – drowned in a river when trying to track a bird!

Until later.

Being and Nothingness

“Hell is other People”, claimed JP Sartre, and today I could not have agreed more.

Having driven 55 miles to Morfa Madryn, I was looking forward to plonking myself down in the hide and watching the tide come-in. What I hadn’t budgeted for was the fact that two blokes had decided the structure would make excellent temporary accommodation and had duly set up camp. Indeed, when I arrived they were mid-way through a picnic.

I pointed out that people may wish to use the building for its intended purpose, but this plea fell of deaf ears. I called the warden at Conwy borough council. “There will be someone down this afternoon.” Great.

Given that the tide was now practically in, I decided to check the pools from the other two hides. Two Sandpipers: a Green and a Common with a dodgy leg showed very well from the first hide, whilst the second pool held a good smattering of Lapwing, Redshank and a Greenshank, whilst just out to sea an immature Gannet prospected.

With the camp campers still in residence, I walked to the marsh to scan the spit. It was teeming with birds: if hell is other people, then heaven may very well be other birds!
Hundreds of Oystercatchers and Curlew were roosting on the shingle, joined by similar numbers of Sandwich Terns. Patient scanning revealed an Arctic Tern, a brace of Whimbrel and two superb adult winter-plumaged Mediterranean Gulls.

Returning to the motor a dragonfly sped past and landed on a flower. Incredibly, as I crept towards the critter it remained stationary – close enough for me to take a snap with my mobile. Back at Casa del Shenton a Golden-ringed Dragonfly was confirmed!

On the way back to Chester, I decided to nip into RSPB Starbucks. The five juvenile Red-crested Pochards reported yesterday were still dabbling around near the new screen. The provenance of this species is difficult at the best of times, but the appearance of this number of young birds seems bizarre to say the least. No tick.

I then repaired to the Benarth hide for a spot of lunch where I encountered a less uncommon species – the trigger happy photographer. As with many of this ilk, he seemed incapable of judicious shot selection and fired a battery of shots at flying Curlew running into the hundreds. He will probably still be looking through them next spring.

Until later.