A family holiday in Devon gave me the chance for just a little birding with, in particular, a trip to Yarner Wood.
This ancient oak forest is an absolute delight, with wooded valleys, heathland, rivers and waterfalls running red with copper mineral, and an absolute abundance of the woodland birds that are under so much pressure in this increasingly tree-less land of ours.
First up were the singing wood warblers, followed by a striking male redstart. Moving out on to the heath we found a tree pipit singing and parachuting between two trees; moving back into the woods there were good views of a pair of spotted flycatchers.
My son had a great time with the challenge trail that English Nature had laid out for half term - and I learned some interesting insect facts along the way. A wonderful and real hands-on experience of nature for any child - recommended.
Of course I was disappointed not to have connected with any of the 50 pairs of pied flycatchers in the wood - and equally thrilled when a male landed on a branch right in front of my car as I rolled out of the car park! Bingo - the 'holy trinity' of oak wood birds achieved (redstart, wood warbler, pied fly).
What a happy boy.
Bird of the day: Pied Flycatcher (Ficedula hypoleuca), a fantastic little bird which is all but impossible to see unless you head west or north. This was only my second or third, and my first in England (the others having been in Wales).
6 June 2011
16 May 2011
Close encounters
One of the joys of fishing is that it often brings me physically closer to water-loving birds than birding ever did - often simply a function of sitting still for hours on end. It is not unheard of for kingfishers to alight momentarily on fishing rods for example.
Sunday was a case in point. I sat just a few feet away from two banks of reeds while reed warblers and sedge warblers flitted past my eyes all morning (distracting when you're supposed to be watching a float). Behind me sang whitethroat and blackcap, across the lake was a persistent turtle dove, a cuckoo had a brief go at about 6.30am and then seemed to give up for the day, and above and around me were swallows, swifts, buzzards and plenty more besides. All very welcome company indeed when the fishing slows a little.
Of many and varied other sightings in recent weeks, the highlight was a modest marsh tit, another addition to my lunchtime Henley-in-Arden list - as is so often the way, I bumped into as I took a stroll along the canal at Preston Bagot.
Sunday was a case in point. I sat just a few feet away from two banks of reeds while reed warblers and sedge warblers flitted past my eyes all morning (distracting when you're supposed to be watching a float). Behind me sang whitethroat and blackcap, across the lake was a persistent turtle dove, a cuckoo had a brief go at about 6.30am and then seemed to give up for the day, and above and around me were swallows, swifts, buzzards and plenty more besides. All very welcome company indeed when the fishing slows a little.
Of many and varied other sightings in recent weeks, the highlight was a modest marsh tit, another addition to my lunchtime Henley-in-Arden list - as is so often the way, I bumped into as I took a stroll along the canal at Preston Bagot.
4 May 2011
Spring unfurled
When I last wrote in these pages (early April, here) spring had just sprung - the first warblers were back, the early flowers were out, and I was busy prophesising one last sting in the tail at the end of a particularly harsh winter.
Well, if you've been in the UK during the subsequent four weeks you may well have noticed that my prophesy spectacularly failed to come true. What we've mainly had (unless you count a week of cool NE winds as a last hurrah for winter) has been clear blue skies, loads of sunshine and the beginnings of an alarming drought. And while that's not been so great for my allotment (which is now starting to take on an alarming dust-like texture), it's been great for getting outside and seeing / hearing spring unfold into summer.
So while the first warblers had just arrived at the start of April, I've since enjoyed: my first cuckoo calls of the year (Easter weekend in Essex's Hatfield Forest); the purring coo of the turtle dove (just after Easter at a lake near Southam); lapwings wheeling and wailing in courtship above Warwickshire fields (near Ufton, Lighthorne and Warwick); a pair of tawny owls calling to each other and showing well above a caravan in Yorkshire's Goit Stock valley (along with two dipper pairs and breeding grey wagtails nearby); and the return of a full complement of summer species (with only the swift still missing from my usual checklist).
The first orange tip and brimstone butterflies have been joined by peacocks, small tortoiseshells, various whites and other I'm too dull-witted to identify with any safety. The same problem pertains to wild flowers - I'm on safe(ish) ground in early spring with wild garlic, lesser celandine, snowdrops and on to the bluebells. Now that a full array of flora is bursting into life, my limited expertise comes to a shuddering halt. Suffice it to say then that there are a lot of flowers and insects around, as well as the birds!
Bird watching has increasingly become less something I specifically go to and more something I just do. It's not often I head out to a nature reserve or set off anywhere with the express intent of watching birds, but wherever and whenever I am outdoors, whether cycling, fishing, gardening, walking, playing with the family or just sitting, I am bird watching, bird listening and bird enjoying.
And while my life list, year list and the rest are suffering no end, my enjoyment of another unfurling spring most certainly is not.
Bird of the month: Tawny owl (Strix aluco); elusive by virtue of its nocturnal nature, but my fairly regular trips to the Goit Stock in Yorkshire give me great opportunities to hear and see this wonderful creature of the night.
Well, if you've been in the UK during the subsequent four weeks you may well have noticed that my prophesy spectacularly failed to come true. What we've mainly had (unless you count a week of cool NE winds as a last hurrah for winter) has been clear blue skies, loads of sunshine and the beginnings of an alarming drought. And while that's not been so great for my allotment (which is now starting to take on an alarming dust-like texture), it's been great for getting outside and seeing / hearing spring unfold into summer.
So while the first warblers had just arrived at the start of April, I've since enjoyed: my first cuckoo calls of the year (Easter weekend in Essex's Hatfield Forest); the purring coo of the turtle dove (just after Easter at a lake near Southam); lapwings wheeling and wailing in courtship above Warwickshire fields (near Ufton, Lighthorne and Warwick); a pair of tawny owls calling to each other and showing well above a caravan in Yorkshire's Goit Stock valley (along with two dipper pairs and breeding grey wagtails nearby); and the return of a full complement of summer species (with only the swift still missing from my usual checklist).
The first orange tip and brimstone butterflies have been joined by peacocks, small tortoiseshells, various whites and other I'm too dull-witted to identify with any safety. The same problem pertains to wild flowers - I'm on safe(ish) ground in early spring with wild garlic, lesser celandine, snowdrops and on to the bluebells. Now that a full array of flora is bursting into life, my limited expertise comes to a shuddering halt. Suffice it to say then that there are a lot of flowers and insects around, as well as the birds!
Bird watching has increasingly become less something I specifically go to and more something I just do. It's not often I head out to a nature reserve or set off anywhere with the express intent of watching birds, but wherever and whenever I am outdoors, whether cycling, fishing, gardening, walking, playing with the family or just sitting, I am bird watching, bird listening and bird enjoying.
And while my life list, year list and the rest are suffering no end, my enjoyment of another unfurling spring most certainly is not.
Bird of the month: Tawny owl (Strix aluco); elusive by virtue of its nocturnal nature, but my fairly regular trips to the Goit Stock in Yorkshire give me great opportunities to hear and see this wonderful creature of the night.
12 April 2011
That lunchtime list in full
I promised last week that I'd sit down and calculate my lunchtime list in full.
So here, in no particular order, is the full list of bird species that I have seen in a series of short lunchtime strolls around Henley-in-Arden, Wooten Wawen and Preston Bagot over the last decade (give or take a bit):
grey heron, little egret, moorhen, mallard, mandarin duck, mute swan, kingfisher, buzzard, kestrel, sparrowhawk, great spotted woodpecker, green woodpecker, nuthatch, treecreeper, wren, robin, blue tit, great tit, long-tailed tit, willow warbler, wood warbler, chiffchaff, blackcap, whitethroat, dunnock, blackbird, song thrush, mistle thrush, redwing, fieldfare, chaffinch, siskin, goldfinch, bullfinch, greenfinch, lesser redpoll, linnet, meadow pipit, cuckoo, black-headed gull, lesser black-backed gull, jackdaw, rook, carrion crow, raven, swift, swallow, house martin, pheasant, red-legged partridge, goldcrest, wood pigeon, collared dove, stock dove, grey wagtail, pied wagtail, magpie, jay, house sparrow.
For the record that's 59 species, of which my personal highlights have been: a wood warbler high on a dead tree near The Mount, a cuckoo on a telegraph wire not to far away, an entire telegraph wire (the same one) full of linnets, a little egret on the weir in Wooten Wawen, a mandarin duck on the tiny river running through Henley-in-Arden, and a nuthatch on the roof outside my office window.
Bird of the decade: Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus), not the rarest of the bunch (that must be the wood warbler) but this cuckoo was entirely unexpected, gave great views at close quarters, and I had a thrilling half hour just leaning against a tree watching it. A magical moment that I can clearly remember 7 or 8 years on; the closest I've come to repeating it was last year when I heard a few snatches of song but could never locate the bird.
So here, in no particular order, is the full list of bird species that I have seen in a series of short lunchtime strolls around Henley-in-Arden, Wooten Wawen and Preston Bagot over the last decade (give or take a bit):
grey heron, little egret, moorhen, mallard, mandarin duck, mute swan, kingfisher, buzzard, kestrel, sparrowhawk, great spotted woodpecker, green woodpecker, nuthatch, treecreeper, wren, robin, blue tit, great tit, long-tailed tit, willow warbler, wood warbler, chiffchaff, blackcap, whitethroat, dunnock, blackbird, song thrush, mistle thrush, redwing, fieldfare, chaffinch, siskin, goldfinch, bullfinch, greenfinch, lesser redpoll, linnet, meadow pipit, cuckoo, black-headed gull, lesser black-backed gull, jackdaw, rook, carrion crow, raven, swift, swallow, house martin, pheasant, red-legged partridge, goldcrest, wood pigeon, collared dove, stock dove, grey wagtail, pied wagtail, magpie, jay, house sparrow.
For the record that's 59 species, of which my personal highlights have been: a wood warbler high on a dead tree near The Mount, a cuckoo on a telegraph wire not to far away, an entire telegraph wire (the same one) full of linnets, a little egret on the weir in Wooten Wawen, a mandarin duck on the tiny river running through Henley-in-Arden, and a nuthatch on the roof outside my office window.
Bird of the decade: Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus), not the rarest of the bunch (that must be the wood warbler) but this cuckoo was entirely unexpected, gave great views at close quarters, and I had a thrilling half hour just leaning against a tree watching it. A magical moment that I can clearly remember 7 or 8 years on; the closest I've come to repeating it was last year when I heard a few snatches of song but could never locate the bird.
Fresh arrival - the reed warbler
I'm doing a lot of fishing at the moment, and while you don't get much time to look around, you do get a lot of time to listen to birdsong. That makes it a great way to notice the fresh arrivals as they return from Africa.
A couple of weeks ago I heard my first swallows overhead as I fished near Southam, then chiffchaffs, and then last weekend I was accompanied all day by at least a couple of willow warblers. This evening it was the turn of the reed warblers, again my first of the year. Their rhythmic chirping was complemented by the musical blackcap, more willow warblers and a single song thrush. Two bold reed buntings flitted around me throughout.
A nice tench, a couple of modest carp and some skimmer bream ensured a pleasant evening all round.
A couple of weeks ago I heard my first swallows overhead as I fished near Southam, then chiffchaffs, and then last weekend I was accompanied all day by at least a couple of willow warblers. This evening it was the turn of the reed warblers, again my first of the year. Their rhythmic chirping was complemented by the musical blackcap, more willow warblers and a single song thrush. Two bold reed buntings flitted around me throughout.
A nice tench, a couple of modest carp and some skimmer bream ensured a pleasant evening all round.
6 April 2011
Growing the lunchtime list
In common with most people I don't automatically qualify for a day off just because the sun's out. I am lucky enough to have some nice spots for a lunchtime stroll though. So with March's good weather continuing into April I have been able to watch spring unfolding in a series of extremely pleasant 40 minute walks.
Today's walk along the canal from Preston Bagot was another little cracker - clear skies, bright sun, a gentle cooling breeze and birdsong filling the air.
A great-spotted woodpecker and the goldfinches were in their customary haunts near the bridge (along with a particularly belligerent mute swan who's taken up residence there). Four or 5 buzzards circled overhead, the chiffchaff song that has grown familiar over recent weeks was accompanied by two male blackcaps, both singing lustily and prominently, and two of our most powerful vocalists - the song thrush and wren - were giving of their best.
Then, just as I reached my 'turnaround point', I found two red-legged partridge running ahead of me on the two path. I haven't encountered this lovely species during more than a decade of lunchtime walks in this area, so that's another one for the lunchtime life list. When I get a moment I must write that list down and work out how it stands.
Bird of the day: Red-legged partridge (Alectoris rufa), an introduced species like the pheasant, and with many of the same characteristics - often found in the same kinds of places, with strong attractive markings and often shot at by hunting types!
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| Red-legged partridge: here's one I took earlier... |
A great-spotted woodpecker and the goldfinches were in their customary haunts near the bridge (along with a particularly belligerent mute swan who's taken up residence there). Four or 5 buzzards circled overhead, the chiffchaff song that has grown familiar over recent weeks was accompanied by two male blackcaps, both singing lustily and prominently, and two of our most powerful vocalists - the song thrush and wren - were giving of their best.
Then, just as I reached my 'turnaround point', I found two red-legged partridge running ahead of me on the two path. I haven't encountered this lovely species during more than a decade of lunchtime walks in this area, so that's another one for the lunchtime life list. When I get a moment I must write that list down and work out how it stands.
Bird of the day: Red-legged partridge (Alectoris rufa), an introduced species like the pheasant, and with many of the same characteristics - often found in the same kinds of places, with strong attractive markings and often shot at by hunting types!
25 March 2011
A sting in the tail?
Another lovely lunchtime stroll today, on a gloriously sunny March day.
Birds included a great spotted woodpecker, great views of a female kestrel on a telegraph wire, buzzards (plenty), chiffchaffs (now seemingly establishing approx. 3 territories along the stretch of canal from Preston Bagot towards Stratford), goldfinches, tits (blue, great and long-tailed), loads of wren activity and the usual mallards and swans.
So, a lovely 40 minute walk, spoiled only the the insistent lurking voice at the back of my mind. "20 degrees in March," it sneered. "It won't last. Winter's not done with you yet my lad."
And however lovely this week has been, history suggests the voice is right - winter normally has one last sting in the tail. Don't pack away the sweaters just yet.
Birds included a great spotted woodpecker, great views of a female kestrel on a telegraph wire, buzzards (plenty), chiffchaffs (now seemingly establishing approx. 3 territories along the stretch of canal from Preston Bagot towards Stratford), goldfinches, tits (blue, great and long-tailed), loads of wren activity and the usual mallards and swans.
So, a lovely 40 minute walk, spoiled only the the insistent lurking voice at the back of my mind. "20 degrees in March," it sneered. "It won't last. Winter's not done with you yet my lad."
And however lovely this week has been, history suggests the voice is right - winter normally has one last sting in the tail. Don't pack away the sweaters just yet.
22 March 2011
Who turned up the volume?
All new birdwatchers quickly discover that sound pretty much as important as sight in birding - you always hear plenty of species which you don't end up actually seeing, and even when you do see a bird, it was often the sound that helped alert you to them in the first place.
It takes a bit of practice to distinguish even the most common bird calls and songs, and sadly after many years I'm still struggling to be even averagely good at this (although it's a skill of which you don't need much to amaze non-birdwatchers, who nearly always seem to find it mind-boggling that anyone could tell a robin from a greenfinch by sound alone - and in case you're wondering, that particular task really is spectacularly easy).
So for most of us it's a case of practice makes perfect - and if you're going to practice, this is the time of year to get stuck in. Because, quite simply, it is around now that the bird volume gets cranked all the way up to 11.
Monday was a case in point. As I wandered along a stretch of Derby river and path not very far at all from the ring road, I was practically deafened - not by the passing traffic, but by the combined efforts of wrens, blackbirds, robins, a song thrush, goldfinches and greenfinches, all singing their hearts out (and there are some noisy buggers in that little list). Likewise, tonight in the garden was jolly pleasant, but you should have heard the noise from the house sparrows, collared doves and skylarks around me - I could barely hear the planes as they passed overhead!
And tomorrow morning I will be woken, as every morning this week, by an enthusiastic blackbird or two at about 5am. Hmmm, a mixed blessing this birdsong.
20 March 2011
A couple of local notes
Back in Radford Semele, I went for a teatime stroll through the neighbouring farmland for the first time in ages, and was rewarded with four yellowhammers high in a mature oak tree, the males absolutely beautiful in the bright afternoon sun.
19 March 2011
Springing back to Leam Valley
Now that's poor.
And ill-advised too, since - as I noted in my last post from the reserve - the place is starting to mature nicely. There's a huge amount of woodland management going on, and the three reed beds on the scrape in particular have finally taken hold in a decisive way, which should bode well for reed / sedge warblers this summer, as well as snipe, teal and perhaps water rail?
Well, today there were none of these on view, but there was a male shoveller on the scrape, my first for this reserve. A pair of reed buntings flitted around, the second pair I found on the day. Also on the scrape were six tufted ducks, in pairs.
Elsewhere, there was a single redpoll in the middle of a loose flock of tit species (there were four here at the same time last year). A few goldcrest were in the conifers near the hide, along with a single coal tit. A single chiffchaff sang near the car park, and a song thrush was singing near the golf course.I strolled down to Offchurch Bury weir hoping to find singing yellowhammers, but there were none. What I did find were about a dozen chub (to 15 inches or so, decent fish), just holding their position by the footbridge. I was hoping to find the grey wagtails as well, and there they were, considerably bolder than any I have encountered before - hence the photos, which were taken on a 6x zoom pocket camera.
The kestrel was pictured on the same camera, having been similarly obliging.
Bird of the day: Lesser redpoll (Carduelis cabaret), if only because it was such a good find, high on its own in an alder tree.
18 March 2011
And the final tally is...
I finished up my week of lunchtime canal walks with not one, but three new ticks for the list.
I balanced up the week by walking for the second time down the stretch of canal running from Preston Bagot towards Lowsonford (but not going so far this time due to lack of time).
The sun was out again, although a chill will kept the temperature down to 10 degrees or so (Celsius, I mean - you won't often find me venturing out with a light fleece on at 10 Fahrenheit (which is -12 Celsius, I just looked it up)).
Alongside the blue tits, redwings and goldfinch that kept me company most of the way, a little side path bursting with wild garlic turned up the first new bird of the week - a goldcrest, flitting through some tree-bound ivy.
Shortly after I caught glimpse of a bullfinch pair that dashed madly in front of me before settling in still-bare hawthorns not too far away. And the moment I'd stopped near the end of my walk to do a mental tally for the week, I heard the tap-tap-tap of a great spotted woodpecker - a female just a couple of metres above my head.
So that tally is: mute swan; mallard; grey heron; pheasant; kestrel; buzzard; raven; carrion crow; jackdaw; jay; magpie; great spotted woodpecker; green woodpecker; nuthatch; blackbird; mistle thrush; song thrush; redwing; fieldfare; robin; dunnock; wren; house sparrow; starling; wood pigeon; collared dove; grey wagtail; blue tit; great tit; long-tailed tit; chiffchaff; goldfinch; chaffinch; siskin; bullfinch; greenfinch; and goldcrest.
That makes 37 (excluding the red kites I saw while on my London train, although that too was technically a lunchtime birding session). Not a bad total with some good birds included, and a useful (to me) reminder that you don't need a nature reserve, three hours and a £500 pair of binoculars to enjoy birdwatching - although the latter would have come in handy on more than one occasion ;-)
Bird of the day: Goldcrest (Regulus regulus), one of those birds which is common enough but which you can never guarantee seeing on any given trip - or indeed in any given week. Probably helped by the fact that it is Britain's smallest songbird.
I balanced up the week by walking for the second time down the stretch of canal running from Preston Bagot towards Lowsonford (but not going so far this time due to lack of time).
The sun was out again, although a chill will kept the temperature down to 10 degrees or so (Celsius, I mean - you won't often find me venturing out with a light fleece on at 10 Fahrenheit (which is -12 Celsius, I just looked it up)).
Alongside the blue tits, redwings and goldfinch that kept me company most of the way, a little side path bursting with wild garlic turned up the first new bird of the week - a goldcrest, flitting through some tree-bound ivy.
Shortly after I caught glimpse of a bullfinch pair that dashed madly in front of me before settling in still-bare hawthorns not too far away. And the moment I'd stopped near the end of my walk to do a mental tally for the week, I heard the tap-tap-tap of a great spotted woodpecker - a female just a couple of metres above my head.
So that tally is: mute swan; mallard; grey heron; pheasant; kestrel; buzzard; raven; carrion crow; jackdaw; jay; magpie; great spotted woodpecker; green woodpecker; nuthatch; blackbird; mistle thrush; song thrush; redwing; fieldfare; robin; dunnock; wren; house sparrow; starling; wood pigeon; collared dove; grey wagtail; blue tit; great tit; long-tailed tit; chiffchaff; goldfinch; chaffinch; siskin; bullfinch; greenfinch; and goldcrest.
That makes 37 (excluding the red kites I saw while on my London train, although that too was technically a lunchtime birding session). Not a bad total with some good birds included, and a useful (to me) reminder that you don't need a nature reserve, three hours and a £500 pair of binoculars to enjoy birdwatching - although the latter would have come in handy on more than one occasion ;-)
Bird of the day: Goldcrest (Regulus regulus), one of those birds which is common enough but which you can never guarantee seeing on any given trip - or indeed in any given week. Probably helped by the fact that it is Britain's smallest songbird.
17 March 2011
Windhover at Preston Bagot
...Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
- from The Windhover, by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
My week's 'lunchtime list' grew still further today with another stroll along the canal, this time back along the stretch from Preston Bagot towards Stratford.
First up were a pair of mistle thrushes, and then two infuriatingly elusive and thin-billed birds with very spotty flanks that just wouldn't show themselves properly (I just hope to God they were an obvious thrush species, even those same two mistle thrushes looking a bit too small in the gloom, rather than anything rare, because I never did nail down the id).
A raven flew low overhead shortly afterwards, and then I stood stock still to watch a pair of kestrels performing at close range around me for a good 15 minutes or so. It's far, far too long since I last took the time to watch these beautiful birds in detail, so I was grateful for this opportunity.
Bird of the Day: Kestrel (Falcon tinnunculus) - Gerard Manley Hopkins 'windhover' is a beautiful creature that should never fail to stir the heart. When I were a lad it was Britain's most common raptor; after 30 years of slow decline I suspect it has been long overtaken, round these parts at least, by the buzzard.
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
- from The Windhover, by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
My week's 'lunchtime list' grew still further today with another stroll along the canal, this time back along the stretch from Preston Bagot towards Stratford.
First up were a pair of mistle thrushes, and then two infuriatingly elusive and thin-billed birds with very spotty flanks that just wouldn't show themselves properly (I just hope to God they were an obvious thrush species, even those same two mistle thrushes looking a bit too small in the gloom, rather than anything rare, because I never did nail down the id).
A raven flew low overhead shortly afterwards, and then I stood stock still to watch a pair of kestrels performing at close range around me for a good 15 minutes or so. It's far, far too long since I last took the time to watch these beautiful birds in detail, so I was grateful for this opportunity.
Bird of the Day: Kestrel (Falcon tinnunculus) - Gerard Manley Hopkins 'windhover' is a beautiful creature that should never fail to stir the heart. When I were a lad it was Britain's most common raptor; after 30 years of slow decline I suspect it has been long overtaken, round these parts at least, by the buzzard.
16 March 2011
Further adventures on the Stratford-upon-Avon canal
After a great start to my week of lunchtime bird walks near Henley-in-Arden (see Herald's of Spring, below), today took a turn for the greyer, the colder... but it still turned up the goods.
I spent much of yesterday on the train to London and back (red kites over the Chiltern, muntjac deer and hares in the fields of Oxfordshire), so I was looking forward to stretching my legs on a midday stroll along the two miles or so of canal from Preston Bagot towards Lowsonford and back.
The outward stretch turned up nothing much, but shortly after I turned for home I was stopped by the churring of two mistle thrushes in nearby trees. As they moved on, my bins moved past a superb male chaffinch and just caught a flash of movement - movement that was notable for one reason: it was down a tree trunk. That could only mean one thing - a nuthatch, the only UK bird that I can think of able to crawl down, as well as up, a tree trunk. Although they're common enough, I've not seen one for ages, so I was pretty chuffed.
Just a few steps on and I realised I was surrounded on all sides by a mixed flock of perhaps 200 fieldfares and redwings; another hundred yards or so and there were siskins high above me, in a mixed flock with goldfinches.
I finished with great views of a jay, and returned to the office in good spirits.
Bird of the day: Nuthatch (Sitta europaea), a stunning little woodpecker like bird, glorious in yellow and blue.
I spent much of yesterday on the train to London and back (red kites over the Chiltern, muntjac deer and hares in the fields of Oxfordshire), so I was looking forward to stretching my legs on a midday stroll along the two miles or so of canal from Preston Bagot towards Lowsonford and back.
The outward stretch turned up nothing much, but shortly after I turned for home I was stopped by the churring of two mistle thrushes in nearby trees. As they moved on, my bins moved past a superb male chaffinch and just caught a flash of movement - movement that was notable for one reason: it was down a tree trunk. That could only mean one thing - a nuthatch, the only UK bird that I can think of able to crawl down, as well as up, a tree trunk. Although they're common enough, I've not seen one for ages, so I was pretty chuffed.
Just a few steps on and I realised I was surrounded on all sides by a mixed flock of perhaps 200 fieldfares and redwings; another hundred yards or so and there were siskins high above me, in a mixed flock with goldfinches.
I finished with great views of a jay, and returned to the office in good spirits.
Bird of the day: Nuthatch (Sitta europaea), a stunning little woodpecker like bird, glorious in yellow and blue.
14 March 2011
Heralds of spring (the chiffchaffs are here!)
Inspired by a tweet'ed report (how appropriate) of chiffchaffs in Sheffield, I spent lunchtime on a birding walk to find my own.
From Preston Bagot I headed along the canal (Stratford direction) and within 10 minutes could hear my first chiffchaff of spring. It quickly fell silent but soon after I'd turned and started the walk back, I reconnected with not one but two birds, one calling somewhere near and the other feeding rapidly but gracefully in the trees lining the canal opposite me.
It's a moment that never fails to move me - the first of these beautiful, sleek little buff birds refueling, wagging their tails and singing their joy after a gruelling flight of several thousand miles from West Africa to here.
When added to a tally which also included a pair of grey wagtails, three displaying buzzards, a small flock of long-tailed tits, goldfinches aplenty, a grey heron and several calling green woodpeckers, I'd call that a pretty successful 40 minutes.
Bird of the day: Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita), the one true herald of spring.
From Preston Bagot I headed along the canal (Stratford direction) and within 10 minutes could hear my first chiffchaff of spring. It quickly fell silent but soon after I'd turned and started the walk back, I reconnected with not one but two birds, one calling somewhere near and the other feeding rapidly but gracefully in the trees lining the canal opposite me.
It's a moment that never fails to move me - the first of these beautiful, sleek little buff birds refueling, wagging their tails and singing their joy after a gruelling flight of several thousand miles from West Africa to here.
When added to a tally which also included a pair of grey wagtails, three displaying buzzards, a small flock of long-tailed tits, goldfinches aplenty, a grey heron and several calling green woodpeckers, I'd call that a pretty successful 40 minutes.
Bird of the day: Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita), the one true herald of spring.
9 March 2011
The water rule
Where there's water there's nearly always nature - a rule of thumb brought home to me again on Monday as I took a lunchtime stroll along the River Derwent in Derby.
Pleasant surprise #1 was that a female goosander (probably one of the three I first spotted a month ago) had moved up from the edge of town and was now swimming opposite the Council House in the very heart of the the city.
Pleasant surprise #2 came just a few hundred yards further on, when I was able to watch my first ever american mink as it picked its way along the far bank for several minutes.
It never ceases to amaze me what you can find if you've got a patch of water and a spare 20 minutes to explore. Keep 'em peeled!
Pleasant surprise #1 was that a female goosander (probably one of the three I first spotted a month ago) had moved up from the edge of town and was now swimming opposite the Council House in the very heart of the the city.
Pleasant surprise #2 came just a few hundred yards further on, when I was able to watch my first ever american mink as it picked its way along the far bank for several minutes.
It never ceases to amaze me what you can find if you've got a patch of water and a spare 20 minutes to explore. Keep 'em peeled!
6 March 2011
Back at Napton
I'm told that confession (see below) isn't enough on it's own. Nor is the intention to change. One needs to prove the intention to change if one is to be absolved.
So, bright and early (ish) this morning I set off this morning for Napton Reservoir, determined to get my feet and eyes back into the swing of birding things. It turns out that a lot of things haven't changed so very much since I last went birding back in October.
For a start, I only got about 100 yards from the car before I bumped into Richard and Dave, who confirmed that the year had got off to a slow start, and that nothing had dropped in today to change that pattern. Fortunately I have lower standards than either of them (!) and within minutes I was having a wonderful time, if only because it was good to be out again.
Alongside the regulars (c. 40 coot, 25 tufties, a dozen mallard, a few moorhens, a pair of mute swans and a couple of hundred gulls, about 40/60 common and black-headed) were 7 great crested grebes, 12 shoveller, 5 pochard, a few teal tucked into the edge of the reed bed, a snipe which flushed from a drainage dish, a couple of bullfinch near the entrance, plenty of jaunty chaffinches and, high in the sky to my right, a couple of skylark trilling high in the grey sky.
OK, it was hardly a mega haul, but the shovellers were (are) beautiful, the snipe was a nice surprise (thought it was going to take my head off as it flew out), and who doesn't enjoy watching great crested grebes in full courtship?
After a lovely stroll to all corners of the reservoir (and a chat to a couple of the fishermen - I shall be back for Napton tench this spring / summer), I headed up to the hill for something nice to finish the day. Apart from being reminded how beautiful blue tits actually are, there was little added from this short excursion.
Nice to be back though.
Bird of the day: Shoveller (Anus clypeata) - you have to say, that is one striking duck.
So, bright and early (ish) this morning I set off this morning for Napton Reservoir, determined to get my feet and eyes back into the swing of birding things. It turns out that a lot of things haven't changed so very much since I last went birding back in October.
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| Library photo |
Alongside the regulars (c. 40 coot, 25 tufties, a dozen mallard, a few moorhens, a pair of mute swans and a couple of hundred gulls, about 40/60 common and black-headed) were 7 great crested grebes, 12 shoveller, 5 pochard, a few teal tucked into the edge of the reed bed, a snipe which flushed from a drainage dish, a couple of bullfinch near the entrance, plenty of jaunty chaffinches and, high in the sky to my right, a couple of skylark trilling high in the grey sky.
OK, it was hardly a mega haul, but the shovellers were (are) beautiful, the snipe was a nice surprise (thought it was going to take my head off as it flew out), and who doesn't enjoy watching great crested grebes in full courtship?
After a lovely stroll to all corners of the reservoir (and a chat to a couple of the fishermen - I shall be back for Napton tench this spring / summer), I headed up to the hill for something nice to finish the day. Apart from being reminded how beautiful blue tits actually are, there was little added from this short excursion.
Nice to be back though.
Bird of the day: Shoveller (Anus clypeata) - you have to say, that is one striking duck.
5 March 2011
Confessions of an absent birder
I am far from being a Catholic, but there is an air of the confessional about this post. Forgive me, readers (if any are left), for I have sinned - it has been four months since both I last went birding and I last wrote in this blog.
Not really sins of course, except that the cardinal rule of both birding and blogging is regularity, and in that respect I have fallen dismally short. Of my absence from blogging you will of course be in no doubt, since you can see for yourself the cavernous gap, the epochal time period, between this post and the last. But at least I can try to persuade you that I haven't failed quite so dismally on the birding front, and reassure you that my absence from birdwatching (in the formal sense) has been slightly mitigated by the number of bird moments I have enjoyed during that time.
Such as? Well, heading into winter there were the vast flocks of fieldfare and redwing which followed me everywhere; the less common garden visitors such as long-tailed tits and a great spotted woodpecker; and the occasional 'gem' such as the siskins and the three goosander I found on a lunchtime walk in the very centre of Derby. As I sat fishing, and freezing, near Bishops Itchington not so long ago, I was joined by both a buzzard and a kingfisher in short order. On my journey, five lapwing had been tumbling over the fields near Ufton.
Moving into the very earliest part spring, my short lunchtime strolls have been punctuated by welcome sounds - the first great tit calls, then the song thrush, the chaffinch, the greenfinch and more. A male sparrowhawk flashed past me last week, a red kite swept low over my car as I drove through Oxfordshire, and a raven did the same in Offchurch one day. In significantly more peril were the red-legged partridge and the male pheasant which nearly ran under my car on successive days near Claverdon. And while lunchtimes have proved quite productive, working hours themselves turned up a pair of bullfinches outside one office window and a male great spotted woodpecker outside the other.
So, no birding but plenty of birds. Nothing rare but plenty to enjoy. But definitely no enough blogging. Sorry.
Bird of the winter: Goosander (Mergus merganser), definitely my favourite unexpected moment of the last few months. I could not have imagined that a short stroll along the river, just a few hundred yards from the main shopping area, would have turned up not one but three of these exquisite birds.
Not really sins of course, except that the cardinal rule of both birding and blogging is regularity, and in that respect I have fallen dismally short. Of my absence from blogging you will of course be in no doubt, since you can see for yourself the cavernous gap, the epochal time period, between this post and the last. But at least I can try to persuade you that I haven't failed quite so dismally on the birding front, and reassure you that my absence from birdwatching (in the formal sense) has been slightly mitigated by the number of bird moments I have enjoyed during that time.
Such as? Well, heading into winter there were the vast flocks of fieldfare and redwing which followed me everywhere; the less common garden visitors such as long-tailed tits and a great spotted woodpecker; and the occasional 'gem' such as the siskins and the three goosander I found on a lunchtime walk in the very centre of Derby. As I sat fishing, and freezing, near Bishops Itchington not so long ago, I was joined by both a buzzard and a kingfisher in short order. On my journey, five lapwing had been tumbling over the fields near Ufton.
Moving into the very earliest part spring, my short lunchtime strolls have been punctuated by welcome sounds - the first great tit calls, then the song thrush, the chaffinch, the greenfinch and more. A male sparrowhawk flashed past me last week, a red kite swept low over my car as I drove through Oxfordshire, and a raven did the same in Offchurch one day. In significantly more peril were the red-legged partridge and the male pheasant which nearly ran under my car on successive days near Claverdon. And while lunchtimes have proved quite productive, working hours themselves turned up a pair of bullfinches outside one office window and a male great spotted woodpecker outside the other.
So, no birding but plenty of birds. Nothing rare but plenty to enjoy. But definitely no enough blogging. Sorry.
Bird of the winter: Goosander (Mergus merganser), definitely my favourite unexpected moment of the last few months. I could not have imagined that a short stroll along the river, just a few hundred yards from the main shopping area, would have turned up not one but three of these exquisite birds.
7 November 2010
The fastest twitcher in the West
Thanks to various reports on Friday that the great grey shrike was still showing at Napton, I went to bed feeling reasonably confident that I'd been able to track it down in the 45 minutes or so I had free on Saturday morning.
Well, it wasn't looking good when I first turned up. For one thing, there was no one else about. Did everyone know something I didn't? I trekked up and down Brickyard Lane, stopped to check out how the fishing was going at the little farm pools there, and then wandered up to the quarry.
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| Library photo |
Although I still didn't find the shrike, I did get good views of a sparrowhawk, a cormorant heading towards the reservoir(s), large flocks of long-tailed tits, a few smaller groups of small finches (I'm guessing goldfinch and linnet), and a small group of twitchers / photographers down the hill towards the canal. Since they were all settled but chatting , my guesses were a) that was where the bird had been sighted most often and b) it hadn't showed yet.
Right on both counts. But with my 45 minutes having already stretched beyond the hour (boy, was I going to be in trouble) I spotted it on a wire above the canal, not far from where this group had set up. A quick jog of a few hundred yards and there I was, locked on to a great grey shrike just 20 yards of so away. I enjoyed it for 10 minutes or so, and crept away for family duties and a where-the-hell-have-you-been telling off.
Worth it though ;-)
Bird of the day: Great grey shrike (Lanius excubitor), a stunning predator that is a real autumn / winter gem for UK birders - rare, but not so rare that one can't turn up on pretty much anyone's patch given a bit of luck.
1 November 2010
Hurray for my patch (boo for me)
Well, it's been an absolutely bumper autumn for my patch - that little stretch of land which runs east out of Leamington Spa, as far as Napton-on-the-Hill.
Napton alone has thrown up a magnificent treble of bearded tit, waxwing and great grey shrike, all in the last fortnight. Any one of them would be a patch birder's dream in this part of the world.
Unfortunately this is not the best place to read about them, because I haven't been there :-(
This was partly my own fault (a bit too much time spent fishing, for example) and partly the usual excuses about work / family commitment (violins at the ready please), but it's still jolly annoying.
Anyway, my advice for anyone wanting to know what's happening on my patch would be to visit www.onemanandhispond.blogspot.com and Richard Mays can tell you (since he found all three in the first place). Well done that man, just rewards for many, many hours patient patch birding.
Oh, and by the way, don't give up on me completely - normal service will be resumed soon.
Bird of the season: Frankly, any of the above would have floated my boat!
Napton alone has thrown up a magnificent treble of bearded tit, waxwing and great grey shrike, all in the last fortnight. Any one of them would be a patch birder's dream in this part of the world.
Unfortunately this is not the best place to read about them, because I haven't been there :-(
This was partly my own fault (a bit too much time spent fishing, for example) and partly the usual excuses about work / family commitment (violins at the ready please), but it's still jolly annoying.
Anyway, my advice for anyone wanting to know what's happening on my patch would be to visit www.onemanandhispond.blogspot.com and Richard Mays can tell you (since he found all three in the first place). Well done that man, just rewards for many, many hours patient patch birding.
Oh, and by the way, don't give up on me completely - normal service will be resumed soon.
Bird of the season: Frankly, any of the above would have floated my boat!
8 September 2010
Back at birding - migrants and a mega
Just as I thought I was going to miss the whole of Warwickshire's autumn migration, I was finally able to find an excuse for a day off and a trip to some of the best local spots.I set off in a pretty jolly mood, but my hopes were no longer high as I stood high on Napton-on-the-Hill just before 7am. The graveyard was as quiet as a... well, a graveyard I suppose. After a bit of scouring I managed to find a few quietly calling chiffchaffs and a single spotted flycatcher skulking deep in the hedges, but where was the migration hotspot I had been reading about lately?
More than a little disappointed, I headed to Draycote Reservoir to hunt for some of the most recent sightings, notably yesterday's red-necked phalarope. Starting from Hensborough Bank I found both ringed and little ringed plover, a few freshly arrived wigeon, a snipe which flew fast and low past me, a great spotted woodpecker which did likewise, and the usual assortment of wildfowl (including a couple of pochard).
Turning my attention to the open water, I scoured in vain for the phalarope, failing to locate it but picking up the pretty considerable consolation of two little gulls and three black terns as I went. Moving on to Tofts I found up to a dozen juvenile yellow wagtails and a wheatear on Farborough Bank. Ayoung tern moving between Toft and Farborough was identified as a little tern, although I'm afraid juvenile terns are generally beyond my humble powers of identification.
After a refreshing (i.e. massive) breakfast at the Long Itch Diner, I gave Napton-on-the-Hill one last go. And what a difference a couple of hours had made. The churchyard had come alive: there were at least a dozen young spotted flycatchers around, young chiffchaffs and willow warblers hanging from every tree (the latter so brightly yellow that I thought for a moment I'd hit on a flock of a dozen wood warblers!), swallows and house martins swooping all around, a mistle thrush watching on from a nearby telegraph wire, and even a tawny owl calling in the middle of the day.
It was a real migration marvel; a lovely end to the morning and a reminder of what I had been missing.
Bird of the day: Red-necked phalarope (Phalaropus lobatus), a delicate little wader which, unlike most waders, spends much of its time bobbing on the water. It has a notably frantic, twitching manner, spending all of its time pecking, preening or making short nervous flights hither and thither.
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