Famous Footsteps

I’m still busy with family things this week and birding naturally takes second place, but on a rough old morning Sue and I took some fresh air up at Knott End, with a walk along the Esplanade and up river.

There was no sign of the recent Black Redstart, however in its place at the slipway and near the Bourne Arms I found 6 Twite, 1 Rock Pipit and 1 Pied Wagtail. Shore birds: 220 Dunlin, 11 Turnstone, 20 Redshank and 1 Little Egret. Lots of Eider duck in the estuary, 41 in all, plus 3 Red-breasted Merganser braving the swell.

Eider
Pied Wagtail

Not everyone who reads the blog may know the following piece of trivia. The artist L S Lowry often visited Knott End and probably stayed in one of the boarding houses on the Esplanade, houses now turned into flats or private dwellings. There are paintings in existence which show that his favourite location for painting was a spot near the top of the ferry slipway, just where the Black Redstart hung about. It was from this spot Lowry produced typical scenes of crowds of matchstick people hurrying along the jetty to and from the ferry boat.

No more than a few of these paintings have ever been found but there must be more. If anyone has one of these canvases tucked away in the attic I am happy to swop it for a bird photograph of mine.

No crowds of matchstick people today, it was almost too windy to stand up.

Not “A Lowry”

Across The Moss

I set out for Rawcliffe Moss this morning, hoping it would be less windy than the Pilling coast, but as I arrived at the farm the wind whipped over the open fields, holding out little prospect of a productive birding walk. From the comparative shelter of the barn I surveyed west and then east where in the distance flooded fields held many Lapwings, Black-headed Gulls and a few Common Gull interlopers.

I think it was the passing Kestrel that disturbed both Skylarks and Corn Buntings from the nearby stubble, as parties of each of the similar sized birds flew over, 11 and 30 respectively; fortunately the species have different calls as well as different jizz, and Corn Buntings seem to make bigger flocks into the new year when food becomes tougher to find.

Corn Bunting

I turned into the farm track from where in the distance I could see Pheasants, 3 or 4 Blackbirds and 100 or more Tree Sparrows dropping in turn to their breakfast on the ground. Then almost within seconds it appeared that some wary sparrows chickened out of this apparently dangerous manoeuvre, and as if tied by a piece of elastic they sprung back to the safety of the dense hedgerow, there to await their next dash for a piece of the action. I must admit that a couple of times of late I have seen the Hen Harrier also take an interest in this corner of the farm, so the sparrows are wise to feed with caution. As I watched the sparrows I counted 3 Yellowhammer, 3 Reed Buntings, 2 Blue Tit, 3 Great Tit and a Great-spotted Woodpecker heading towards the feed.

The wind was pretty strong, so like the Sparrows I chickened out, turned the car round and headed off the farm for a run across Pilling Moss to Lane Ends, where although it would be equally windy, there would be guaranteed birds.

From the road near Lousanna Farm I could see Rawcliffe Moss, the fields where in recent days I’d watched the wintering Hen Harrier quarter the fields as it drifted or deliberately headed west in pursuit of a meal. Right on the cue today the harrier appeared here at Lousanna Farm just a harrier's flap-glide from its other favoured feeding spot. Continuing over the moss I noted 2 more roadside Kestrels before I hit Pilling.

Hen Harrier

A blog reader asked me “where is Pilling Moss?”, a question which stumped me a little because although I know exactly where the moss is, I’m not sure I could draw the vague-in-my-head boundaries on a map. Those frontier limits are very imprecise and bound up in the ancient history of other Fylde mosslands, some of which abut Pilling Moss – e.g. Stalmine Moss, Winmarleigh Moss and Rawcliffe Moss.

The “Moss” of Pilling refers to the area of peat land more or less south of the village of Pilling, an ancient settlement, founded at the hamlet of Eagland Hill on what was essentially an "island" with the sea on one side and marsh on the others. From artefact finds, there is evidence of spasmodic human activity here dating back to the Neolithic period.

“Pilling Moss - a strange dark tract of land with a history full of curiosity and interest, situated on the western side of Lancashire, between the Wyre and the estuary of Cockerham.

It was in the year 1813 or 1814 that James Jenkinson and Joseph Isles, who were natives of nearby Churchtown and Nateby, selected sites for cottages and farm buildings at Eagland Hill, a portion of the (Pilling) Moss. Eagland Hill was a natural mound of sand, slightly elevated, but surrounded on each side by bog and deep, broad tarns. There was at that time no approach to Eagland Hill by any road, save and except such as a vigorous sportsman in quest for game might risk with fear of occasionally sinking to his armpits in a swampy bog.

Many people have an idea that Pilling is a barren, swampy, dim and unfruitful part of the country, worth nothing, full of the hardest headed of clod hoppers, and given up to seagulls, curlews and uncivilised turf getters. But they are mistaken. In the centre, nay all round that monotonously level region, with its long lines of white smoke, burning from heaps of peat refuse, there are busy souls contending successfully against the rude natural obstacles of a long neglected locality, and turning the peat swamp and the wild bog into a fruitful garden. Enterprising landlords and industrious farmers have transmuted the incoherent waste, the almost chaotic imbroglio of old Pilling into a charming agricultural arena, sending its produce into the busiest markets and towns of Lancashire, and competing with goods of more favoured places.

To be sure, there are still in the district uncouth and unproductive tracts of ground - patches here and there of boggy, rush-grown and heather covered land; but viewed generally, industry, with its potent alchemy, has changed the scene into one of fertility and use. Meadow, pasture and arable land are visible in all directions; smiling farm houses and homesteads are dotted over its surface; a new railway will soon bring them into sharp communication with more distant localities; in the very centre of the moss the plough is busy doing its work, slowly, but well, and creating a new life in quarters which Fate seemed to have reserved for sterility and unending waste”.

After two hundred years of agricultural and drainage activity the moss is hugely changed, the railway been and gone, but the peaty black soil is much in evidence when driving over the moss along the modern Lancaster Road running from Little Eccleston to the hamlet of Scronkey then on to coastal Pilling. Essentially then, Pilling Moss lies east and west of Lancaster Road, it’s still a reasonable birding spot despite the change to winter crops, with often more than Curlews and gulls. History lesson over.

Pilling Moss

I didn’t see a lot at Lane Ends, instead got button-holed by an old shooting sort who complained in turn and with equal ferocity about the RSPB and younger shooters, but he certainly knew his stuff about geese. I nodded in agreement then headed up to Pilling Water where my sometimes distant counts arrived at 1000 Shelduck, 1200 Pink-footed Geese, 41 Whooper Swan, 800 Teal, 240 Wigeon 55 Pintail, 8 Skylark , 5 Little Egret, 1 Merlin and 600 Woodpigeon.

Teal

Readers may have noted how today's birding was a little quiet; I hope the blog post proved a little more entertaining and instructive.

Going South

Worry not blog followers, Another Bird Blog is alive and well but taking a winter migratory break in a warm, sunny location. Sue and I decided to grab a few weeks in Lanzarote, an island situated just 79 miles off the coast of Africa and the most easterly of the Canary Islands. The island is 37 miles (60km) long and 12 miles (20 km) wide, making it the fourth largest island in the Canaries.

Lanzarote to Home

The island enjoys a mild dry climate (hooray!) with average daytime temperatures ranging in January from about 21°C to 29°C - its 22°C today. With the coastline of Morocco only 100 kilometres to the east, Lanzarote is a regular port of call for many birds migrating to breeding grounds in the north, or returning to their southern winter locations in Africa. Waders and small passerines use the wetlands of the Al Janubio salt pans or the abandoned salt works beneath the high cliffs of Famara to rest and feed on their long journeys.

On Lanzarote the Houbara Bustard nests regularly in the sandy scrubland of the Monumento Natural de Los Ajaches– the oldest volcanic formation of the Canary Islands. An estimated three or four pairs of Barbary Falcons are resident in the Timanfaya National Park, breeding in the craters of the Montañas del Fuego and preying on rabbits, partridge and other small birds and animals which live in the harsh terrain of the volcanic lava flows.

Birds are not in abundance in Lanzarote and I am working hard to see a few, but it’s great to be out in the sun and hear of the rain and cold at home. There are a few Hoopoes about and hopefully I will have a few more bird pictures to post on return to the UK. Southern Grey Shrikes are common here, with 3 just near the hotel yesterday. I was on the sunbed Sunday and a Berthelot’s Pipit came trotting by, today's highlight proved to be a flock of 50 Lesser Short-toed Larks.

Maybe I’ll catch up with Houbara Bustard soon.

Hoopoe

The C Word

Rain and then shopping for a turkey stopped birding play again this morning, but the sky brightened enough towards lunchtime to allow me a few hours at Pilling.

Just out of the village at Scronkey I came across a Kestrel perched on a telegraph pole, a regular enough spot, but the bird isn’t always so obliging as to stay while I mess with the camera. Pity about the grey light, plus the shot is overexposed 3 stops.

Kestrel

After the early showers Lane Ends was free from people and cars so I carefully made my way to the pool where the Kingfisher and I spotted each other at the same time. Just as a couple of days ago the bird flew to the other side of the pool, but this time sat partly hidden on the branch of a tree where I could just see it, but the next person circuiting the pool would not. I checked today’s single Goldeneye and left the Kingfisher to its fishing. The poor thing has picked one of the busiest dog walking spots for miles around, I can only think that the food rewards must be good for the bird as compensation for finding itself constantly chased back and forth across the pool by passers-by. Here’s that Egyptian Kingfisher again, doing what Kingfishers are meant to do, sit on the edge of a boat and watch the fishy world go by.

Kingfisher

At Pilling Water I was too late for the tide but numbers of Shelduck still loafed on the tidal edge with upwards of 1200 entered in the notebook today and well scattered Pink-footed Goose coming in at roughly 1200, Little Egret at 5.

My walk almost clashed with the Hi-Fly quad team again, allowing about 15 minutes for two counts of the Whooper Swans before the quad turned onto the track, panicking the swans into flight to the salt marsh. I couldn’t repeat my count of 600 of the 21st December however both of today’s tallies came in at 450 birds. Within half an hour the swans began to head back in small parties to Swan Lake, and whether they feed all through the dark hours I don’t know.

Whooper Swan
Whooper Swan

Yes, I know it’s C word time, and here’s my unoriginal contribution towards it, a Robin. Roll on next week and some ringing.

Happy Christmas

I’m Counting On It

It was still breezy this morning but bright with it, perhaps the nicest morning we’ve had for some weeks; let’s hope it’s an omen for the New Year. I decided a tramp across Rawcliffe Moss would be both beneficial to me and productive for finding birds, an idea which proved to be fairly accurate although I didn’t need the calculator of Wednesday’s swan day, just the fingers of one hand this morning. My thanks go to Grace in Maine for that last piece of advice; over in Maine the folks are whizz at counting the depth of the snow in metres, and often need to use all ten fingers.

The first bird/birds of the day can be a pointer to what’s to come later: migrants overhead, thrushes in a dawn hedgerow, a hunting Barn Owl or a dawn chorus. Today it was a Buzzard, or rather a Buzzard and several Blackbirds in my field of view at once, the Buzzard perched motionless in a tree but watching the antics of the thrushes fighting over the few remaining berries along the hedgerow below. It was too early for the Buzzard to fly, and often they just sit and wait, so inconspicuous are they, despite their size.

Blackbird

Next in my notebook came Hen Harrier again, the now regular “ringtail” floating across the road ahead of me as it hurried across to Pilling Moss, its main hang out of the past month or so. Later I was to see the harrier make the return journey, helped this time by a convoy of corvids that chased it mercilessly until it was off their feeding stubble.

By now I was at the Tree Sparrow track, where I headed east along the hedge to see how many flushed off the seed. 180 was the answer, eight or nine flights of twenty heading for the safety of the next hedgerow and away from bird ringers. A number of Chaffinch were amongst the sparrows, as well as a few Yellowhammers, but on a return viewing an hour or more later the Chaffinch count increased to 30+, Yellowhammers to 16, and Reed Buntings to 10.

Yellowhammer
Chaffinch

Next came the big field and then a slog north over wet stubble where I came across a Merlin, a Kestrel, 8 Corn Bunting, another dozen or so Reed Buntings, 5 Linnet, 7 Grey Partridge, 15 Skylark and 7 Roe Deer. Although the birds scatter along the hedgerow, the deer never ever stay around, but just run and run to the safety of a distant wood.

Merlin

As the light burst through the sky and the sun hit the abandoned maize, I took a black and white photo that turned out ok, and then a colour one that isn’t nearly so intense.

Rawcliffe Moss
Rawcliffe Moss

A walk through and around the winter plantation yielded 6 Reed Bunting, 3 Blackbird, a Robin, a Sparrowhawk, and in distant trees 500+ Wood Pigeon. Hey Grace, I almost needed an abacus for those last ones.

Wall To Wall Whoopers

I grabbed a couple of hours birding at Pilling today, between lunchtime and with winter solstice imminent, the rapidly failing light of 3pm. So, longer days soon which can't arrive quickly enough for me.

At an unusually peaceful Lane Ends I got on to the winter Kingfisher sat in the waterside trees, but it quickly saw me and flew low to the opposite side of the pool where there are spots to sit and watch the water. A UK Kingfisher is one of the shiest birds imaginable, almost impossible to approach, with the slightest human movement enough to send them darting low over the water to a safer distance away and preferably out of sight. In Egypt I couldn’t believe how confiding the local Kingfishers were in comparison to our UK birds.

Kingfisher

Not a lot on the pools save for a pair of Goldeneye and the usual Mallards, but no Tufted Duck today.

Goldeneye

Scattered on the marsh between Lane Ends and Pilling Water I estimated 4000 Pink-footed Geese, and 900+ Shelduck, the main concentrations of both being on the tideline out from Broadfleet. Raptors along here were 1 Merlin, 1 Kestrel and 1 Peregrine, but very few passerines, 1 Pied Wagtail and 3 Skylark, but 4 Little Egret.

I got near Swan Lake just before the Hi-Fly guys on the quad arrived for an afternoon shift, emptying bags of wheat onto the flooded stubble. I had a phenomenal count of Whooper Swans at circa 600, just managing the rough count before the guys turned into the track and flushed the birds out to the marsh. I guess the swans will be back tonight and tomorrow for the free nosh. When the guys got to their pools just 110 Teal and a single Snipe came off.

Whooper Swan

It was a quiet couple hours, but nice to be out for a change.

Woody Morning

The icy morning both began and then ended with a Sparrowhawk, but not the same one. The first, a female, flew across the road in front of the car just yards from home as I made for a few hours birding at Out Rawcliffe. On the way home through Hambleton village about 11am it was a male that sailed across my path via a garden wall to the right.

Sparrowhawk

Between those sightings proved fairly quiet, with one or two specialities plus a spectacular count of woodies to spice up the morning.

The noise from the Tree Sparrows indicated the numbers to be good, over 200 in fact and hard to pick out the Chaffinch when all the birds fly off to the far hedgerow together, but up to 20 finches. A walk up to the top field gave 20+ Reed Bunting, 8 Yellowhammer, 4 Corn Bunting, 2 Song Thrush, 6 Blackbird, 40+ Skylark, a Kestrel and a single Roe Deer.

Roe Deer
Yellowhammer

When I got to where the deer previously stood, the animal had vanished into the far distance, nowhere to be seen; such shy but knowing animals. As I looked north along the hedgerow I saw another crafty but less popular animal than a deer, this one a large dog Red Fox. It had clearly seen me because it sloped off down into the tree roots and the rabbit burrows in the soft, black, mossy soil. Last year we heard the dog barking from this likely spot for a den, where a pair will probably make home and then mate in January/February.

Red Fox - Vulpes vulpes
I hung around for a while but the fox didn’t reappear, not that I expected it to, but it gave me chance to scan the landscape where to the north and west I saw over 700 Woodpigeons in one large flock. There’s not been many around on the moss of late but almost certainly the cold and snow of recent days brought many more of them from elsewhere.

Over the woods today just 2 Buzzards in the cool of the morning and before the sun reached any height to produce decent thermals. A walk through woodland and back to the car produced the expected post-frost Woodcock, another Song Thrush and several Chaffinch.

From the track off the moss the Little Owl has been hard to find of late, but a frosty morning is often the best time to look for them, just as today when one sat partly hidden by the ivy, out in the warming sun but not so conspicuous as to be obvious to any passing prey or careless birder.

Little Owl