More King Harrys

We just seem to carry on catching finches in Will’s garden. Today we passed 75 new Goldfinch for the year, with during that period a handful only of retraps which shows a continuous and consistent passage of birds through February, March and to date in April, with perhaps today a hint of them tailing off.

Total of new birds caught this morning: Coal Tit 2, Goldfinch 7, Chaffinch 4, Lesser Redpoll 1, Siskin 1, Collared Dove 2, Robin 2 and Great Tit 1.

Retraps came in at one each of Goldfinch, Chaffinch, Nuthatch, Greenfinch, Great Tit , Blue Tit and Dunnock.

Lesser Redpoll
Lesser Redpoll
Siskin
Goldfinch
Nuthatch
Coal Tit
Collared Dove
The Nuthatch were busy in and out of their tree hole this morning and remained undeterred from their activities when we caught the already ringed male which returned to its labours immediately after release. Likewise busy in nest boxes in the garden were Jackdaw and Coal Tit.

Other birds seen today: Buzzard, Stock Dove 2, Lapwing 4, Swallow 4, already busy in and out of the outbuildings, Grey Wagtail 2 and Grey Heron 3.

It was an enjoyable session that started deliberately late at 0800 on the assumption that tomorrow will be the early 0600 start if that high pressure holds. Watch this space.

Trickling Through

There was a trickle of migrants at my usual cold corners this morning rather than the hoped for rush of migration to turn them into hot spots. Yet again hat and gloves were essential bits of kit for the first hour or more in the brisk westerly.

With an eye and an ear on the sky I killed time and counted the waders at Knott End, 190 Redshank and 200 Oystercatcher, with 7 Eider waiting at the ferry terminal. Things were so quiet I found time to confirm for Birdtrack breeding House Sparrow, Collared Dove and Starling along the Esplanade where the large old terraced houses provide ledges and cavities galore. Below the Esplanade a couple of Meadow Pipits were not this morning’s migrants, neither were 2 Pied Wagtails or the 3 Twite feeding on the remnants of the seed provided for them. I was just about to move on to my next migration hotspot when 2 Redpoll flew over heading east. One positive, it does seem to be a better spring for Redpoll, and maybe that is because more of them left us during the abnormally cold winter and they are now returning bang on cue, as they used to do? Someone said to me just the other day that plainer birds often make for better photographs: I suppose that the closely related Twite and Redpoll might be described as “little brown jobs” without many distinguishing features?

Lesser Redpoll
Twite
Fluke Hall and Ridge Farm were similarly quiet, with grounded Meadow Pipits numbering 18 and resident singing Skylarks 6. A spring flock of Linnets along the gorse numbered about 45, with 3 local Stock Dove feeding quietly in the stubble field whilst 2 Wheatear below the sea wall were probably new in. Another group of Linnets numbering 6 were alongside Fluke Hall Lane, as was a singing Chiffchaff with briefly, a perched up Merlin that as I approached, flew over Wheel Lane.

There was a little more spring activity during my Lane Ends to Pilling Water walk where I found 2 Chiffchaff, one singing and one silent and a lone singing Willow Warbler in the plantation, a Reed Bunting, 2 Wheatear, and then on the water noted the Little Grebe pair with eggs. Again, I noted the quiet staccato of overflying Redpoll, putting down one in my notebook.

All was mainly quiet at Pilling Water save for a Stoat that scurried around the stones, boulders, pipes and maintenance equipment left there by the Environment Agency. I think the Stoat makes a living by preying on the rabbits that make a home in and under the same leftovers, but it moved so fast I had no chance of taking a photo today, the one below taken earlier in the winter, when it was properly cold.

Stoat
The few birds around were 3 Sand Martin and a single Swallow over the wildfowler’s pools that seemed to disappear as quickly as they arrived, 2 Little Egrets and a few more Meadow Pipits and Skylarks.

Swallow
Things look better for the next three days with a building high pressure and the promise of a few ringing sessions on the horizon.

Warm Weather?

1862 And All That

No birding or ringing now for a couple of days. That old problem of the unkind elements I’m afraid, but the less said about that the better for now.

In between times I like to browse through old bird books, so as the rain hammered down on the conservatory roof I opened up ‘British Birds in their Haunts’ by The Reverend C.A. Johns, first published in 1862, and my copy revised as late as 1948.

Often in these old books it’s the language itself that is intriguing, the use of long forgotten words or phrases, the rather stilted prose or often the realisation that not so many years ago birds were for collecting as trophies or for eating, not for looking at. Occasionally there is unique, long forgotten information that not only tells us about the bird but also documents social history. And of course there are the sometimes awful stylised plates, the sketches that were rather obviously usually drawn from the skins of shot birds or distant views obtained without the aid of binoculars or telescopes.

British Birds In Their Haunts 1862
In the book I happened upon the pages for Ruff. Below I quote directly from the book, and whilst I will leave readers to make up their own minds about the paragraphs, it all makes for fascinating history. For me it also brings back memories of the old Ruff leck that used to take place on the River Ribble at Warton Marsh every year in the 1980s, where I would sit out of sight on the embankment, spellbound by the Ruff’s antics.

Plate XXV
“Both the systematic names of this bird are descriptive of its quarrelsome propensities: philomacus is Greek for a “warrior”, pugnax Latin for “pugnacious”. Well is the title deserved for Ruffs do not merely fight when they meet, but meet in order to fight. The season for the indulgence of their warlike tastes is spring; the scene, a rising spot of ground contiguous to a marsh; and here all the male birds of the district assemble at dawn, for many days in succession and do battle valiantly for the females called reeves, till the weakest are vanquished and leave possession of the field to their more powerful adversaries. The attitude during these contests is nearly that of the domestic cock – the head lowered, the body horizontal, the collar bristling and the beak extended. But Ruffs will fight to the death on other occasions. A basket containing two or three hundred Ruffs was once put on board a steamer leaving Rotterdam for London. The incessant fighting of the birds proved a grand source of attraction for the passengers during the voyage; about half of them were slain before the vessel reached London. Ruffs are gluttonously disposed too, and if captured by a fowler will begin to eat the moment they are supplied with food; but however voracious they may be, if a basin of bread and milk or boiled wheat be placed before them it is instantly contended for; and so pugnacious is their disposition, that even when fellow captives, they would starve in the midst of plenty if several dishes of food were not placed amongst them at a distance from each other.

Many years have passed since these birds paid annual visits in large numbers to the fen countries, they were however highly prized as delicacies for the table, and their undeviating habit of meeting to fight a pitched battle gave the fowler such an excellent opportunity for capturing all the combatants in his nets, that they have been gradually becoming more and more rare. The fowler in fact has been so successful that he has destroyed his own trade.

Another peculiarity of the Ruff is that the plumage varies greatly in different individuals – so much so indeed that Montagu, who had an opportunity of seeing about seven dozen in a room together could not find two alike. These birds are now become rare, but occasional specimens are still met with in different parts of Great Britain, and at various seasons; but if they are ever served up at a table, they must be consignments from the Continent.”

What a shame I don’t have pictures of Ruff in breeding plumage. The ones below were taken at ‘CG’- Conder Green last autumn.

Ruff
Ruff

Do feel free to leave comments. Phil.

Check It Out

It was a “Where Do I Go?” this morning with another cold, brisk north westerly wind blowing. So I headed inland for Rawcliffe Moss where although I might be a little windswept I would find some birds. I also planned to check the vegetation in the mist nets rides, mainly the growth of leaf cover that helps to make the nets invisible when we eventually get there on a kind-to-ringers, flat morning.

I was early enough to find a Barn Owl hunting the rough edges and ditch that mark the field boundary, and although the light wasn’t fantastic, I did get a few photographs today, with 3 Roe Deer performing a backdrop.

Barn Owl
Barn Owl
Roe Deer
Top Of The Windy Moss
On top of the blustery moss there weren’t many birds, the corvids in the stubble, a wandering Kestrel, a couple of Lapwing pairs and in the plantation, Chaffinch, Reed Bunting, Goldfinch, Wren and a couple of Blackbirds, all highly visible in the sparse foliage. The net rides were pretty bare, little ground cover, no leaf on the trees, catkins only with the remains of last autumn’s vegetation available to provide a few hiding spots for the Whitethroats, Willow Warblers and Sedge Warblers that arrive very soon.

What Leaves?
Chaffinch
Reed Bunting
I walked back towards the farm buildings in the course of which I found 3 pairs of Grey Partridge, 4 Curlew, 2 Buzzard, another Kestrel and 1 pair each of Oystercatcher and Lapwing in the field that they both nested in last year.

Buzzard
6Lapwing
Up at the top I hadn’t heard a singing Corn Bunting or Yellowhammer, so I wasn’t surprised when I found a flock of 28 Corn Buntings still hanging about near the farmer’s old spill, likewise the 4 Yellowhammer that came for a look. Neither party was too keen on posing up for me this morning; the blustery wind didn’t help as old buildings, rusted, discarded equipment and abandoned plastic rattled in harmony to spook the birds feeding efforts. The buntings seemed content to sit it out in the hedge until things looked and sounded less dangerous.

Corn Buntings
Corn Bunting
Back home where I complained about the lack of Greenfinch all winter, a pair has almost built a nest in a blowy, thin juniper just two metres from the back door. And I thought birds were clever, but I suppose I have only to look through the kitchen window to check on progress and keep that nest record up to date.

Greenfinch

Cabaret Time

Its ages since I caught any Lesser Redpolls, Carduelis flammea cabaret. It is another one of those species that just got scarcer, especially in this neck of the woods. So it came as a pleasant surprise to catch a couple in Will’s garden today when we grabbed an afternoon ringing session in fine weather between the bouts of wind and threatened rain. Will has noticed a movement of finches through his garden in the last few weeks, mainly Goldfinch and Chaffinch, but with small numbers of Siskin and Lesser Redpoll feeding on the black magic.

A couple of nets and three hours saw us catch 32 new birds: 14 Chaffinch, 14 Goldfinch, 2 Great Tit and 2 Lesser Redpoll. We added to this with 9 retraps: 2 Chaffinch, 3 Great Tit, 3 Goldfinch and 1 Dunnock.

It was good to see birds reaching their colourful best today.

Male Lesser Redpoll
Female Lesser Redpoll
Goldfinch
Chaffinch
Will told me that Nuthatches have nested in the garden for at least the last 11 years, as we watched them going off to a nearby stream to return with mud with which to plaster up the chosen tree hole. Both adults were caught earlier in the year.

Nuthatch
Other birds today included a single Swallow, singing Mistle Thrush, nesting Jackdaw and breeding Lapwing and Oystercatcher in adjacent fields.

Pipits And Pegs

It was a cracking start this morning because when I reached the end of Wheel Lane for my customary look on the Fluke Hall Lane stubble field I could see a bit of pandemonium breaking out. It was a Peregrine, not racing or diving at full pelt but just cruising around above the field and looking for a suitable opportunity I guess. After I tried to take a couple of distant photos the event did at least give me an opportunity to get an accurate count of the Lapwings as individuals because there certainly weren’t any left on the deck after the peg flew around a few times. I apologise for the poor photo but it does show in graphic detail how big a Peregrine versus a Lapwing is.

Lapwing
Lapwing & Peregrine
Peregrine
I counted the Lapwings at 30, so give and take a few non-breeders I estimate 10 pairs at the moment, some on eggs some not. The Peregrine also disturbed a dozen or so Redshank and similar numbers of Oystercatcher, and lesser number of Skylark. The raptor flew back to the marsh and everything settled down so I drove on up to Ridge Farm.

Although it was fine this morning, unlike the afternoon rain as I type, there was a cold south easterly wind which similar to many mornings lately didn’t bode too well. I did the track/sea wall circuit without seeing or hearing an awful lot except for a Sparrowhawk as soon as I jumped from the car then soon after Meadow Pipits, which I counted at 30+ coming from the west and northwest, some grounding as they arrived, others continuing on with a few “albas” also overhead. The customary 4 Skylarks sang and on the fields just inland I saw the now regular pairs of Lapwing and Oystercatcher. The wind began to pick up to a steady 10 to 12 mph.

I motored back through the wood where on the other side I spied a Barn Owl coming towards the car but it veered off over the hedge on seeing me. The local Tree Sparrows “chip chipped” and told me the owl was still there out of my sight. This owl isn’t very accommodating; I have seen it along here on several occasions lately but it never perches up for a portrait. But it won’t be long before they can’t run away.

Barn Owl
A walk up to Pilling Water revealed more Meadow Pipits on the move as they came from the west along the wall and continued in the direction of Lane Ends; I counted 32 heading east, with little parties grounded here and there, together with 3 or 4 more albas but no Wheatears again this morning. When it finally warms up there will be a rush of Wheatears for sure.

Meadow Pipit
The Goldeneye and Little Grebe pairs are still present on the Lane Ends pools, as are the Reed Buntings, 4 Little Egrets and 8 Teal across the road. I was watching some Pink-footed Geese flighting out on the marsh when a plane disturbed them. They whiffled in to land just in front of the other Peregrine sat on the edge of the green, the bigger pale Peregrine that through a distant binoculars view looks pure white. It sat there outlasting my impatience for something to happen, but with three hours to high tide I suppose it could wait for a while and a guaranteed meal.

The wind picked up more, it grew cloudier and I packed up for the day.

An Eider Down

I knew I wouldn’t get much birding today. Overnight the wind was almost gale force from the North West and it still blew like that at 7am. Not very conducive to looking for small passerine migrants then. And ringing was out of the question.

I had to drive to Knott End where there was little to be had, even the high tide wasn’t due until after midday. But along the Esplanade a drake Eider had been grounded and disorientated by the overnight wind, rain and high tides. I took it into care, kept the poor thing in darkness in my quiet garage and released it a couple of hours later into the incoming tide. Very quickly it swam strongly out into the estuary, circled round and joined the other few Eider that were off the jetty.






The Common Eider, Somateria mollissima, is a large (50–71 cm body length) sea duck which is distributed over the northern coasts of Europe, North America and Eastern Siberia and some northern temperate regions, but winters further south in temperate zones, when it can form large flocks on coastal waters.

Eiders build their nests close to the sea, lining them with the celebrated eiderdown, plucked from the female's breast. This soft and warm lining was for a long time harvested for filling pillows and quilts, but in more recent years largely replaced by down from domestic farm-geese and synthetic alternatives. Although true eiderdown pillows or quilts are now a rarity, eiderdown harvesting continues and is sustainable, as it can be done after the ducklings leave the nest with no harm to the birds.

The Common Eider is characterized by its bulky shape and large, wedge-shaped bill. The male is unmistakable, with its black and white plumage and green nape. The female is a brown bird, but can still be readily distinguished from all duck, except other eider-species, on the basis of size and head shape. This duck's call is a pleasant "ah-ooo." The species is often readily approachable.

Drakes of the European, eastern North American and Asia/western North American races can be distinguished by minor differences in plumage and bill colour. Eiders dive for crustaceans and molluscs, with mussels a favoured food and eat mussels by swallowing them whole; the shells are then crushed in their stomachs and excreted. When eating a crab the Eider will remove all of its claws and legs and then eat the body in a similar fashion.

It is abundant, with populations of about 1.5-2 million birds in both North America and Europe, and also large but unknown numbers in eastern Siberia.

A particularly famous colony of eiders lives on the Farne Islands in Northumberland, England. These birds were the subject of one of the first ever bird protection laws, established by Saint Cuthbert in the year 676. About 1,000 pairs still nest there every year. Because St. Cuthbert is the patron saint of Northumberland, it was natural that the eider should be chosen as the county's emblem bird; the birds are still often called Cuddy's ducks in the area, "Cuddy" being the familiar form of "Cuthbert".

Eiders are colonial breeders. They nest on coastal islands in colonies ranging in size of less than 100 to upwards of 10,000-15,000 individuals. Female eiders frequently exhibit a high degree of natal philopatry, where they return to breed on the same island where they were hatched. This can lead to a high degree of relatedness between individuals nesting on the same island, as well as the development of kin-based female social structures. This relatedness has likely played a role in the evolution of co-operative breeding behaviour. Examples of this behaviour include laying eggs in the nests of related individuals and crèching, where females team up and share the work of rearing ducklings.

That’s what we like. A story with a happy ending.