A Good Going Over

An early (or late) beans on toast let me out of the house at 1040 because the sun was out for the foreseeable future and I wanted to give the moss a thorough look, the first for a while.

I called at the barn for a bucket of seed to drop at the feeding station where allegedly the ringing group catch birds; well not yet this winter as the weather frustrates each attempt and our pliers rust up, but at least lots of birds have some supplementary food available for when they need it.

I took a look across the farm where the flooded fields glistened in the sun, with somewhat distant but highly visible, boisterous black and white Lapwing, raucous Black-headed Gulls and unusually but not totally unexpected, a group of about 15 calling Redshank flew off, intermixed with the several hundred Lapwing.



I didn’t go with the bucket immediately because there were thrushes about, mainly Fieldfares whose second coming had been delayed, but here I counted over 90 in the hedge and the hawthorns that line the edge of the opposite wood. Also, several Blackbirds and just 4 Redwings that flew across to the wood when I began the stroll with the bucket.

I could hear the multitude of Tree Sparrows at the end of the hedgerow but before that there were plenty of birds along the hedge, beginning with 17 Long-tailed Tit and several Blue Tits that joined from the roadway hawthorns, conveniently hopping across which allowed me an easy count. What a difference a bit of bright sunshine makes in firstly finding, then counting and photographing birds, I was in danger of enjoying this.



The Woodpigeons flew off the seed soon enough and over to the wood, just as well because I think the more than twenty of them would soon make a large dent in a bucket of fresh seed. Although they weren’t on the seed, 3 Grey Partridge crashed out from the base of the hedge as I walked along. There were masses of Starlings coming and going between the line of food, the hedgerow and the adjacent flood, noisy and quarrelsome as usual, but as I approached they swooped off en masse as I estimated 450+. Let’s hope they don’t all end up in a mist net together on our first winter visit.

By the time I dropped the seed I had counted 260 Tree Sparrows with 6 or 7 Reed Buntings and 12 Chaffinch, a big count but I think the fine weather helped in bringing birds in as well as allowing an accurate count.





Carrion Crow grunts gave away the presence of a Sparrowhawk just over the wood in the bright sun so I took a couple of distant pictures. I think the Sparrowhawk dived into the wood because within a few seconds all the Fieldfare flew from the trees, then gained height to fly off calling in a south easterly direction.





Up past the dwellings I stopped to look east towards Nateby and St Michaels where a distant shoot was in full swing but far enough away so as not to disturb a couple of Roe Deer. No, I did that, just spotting them as they saw or smelt me to then head quickly off and leave me with a tail view.





I headed in the direction they went which proved quite useful because the elusive Skylark chose that time to erupt from the stubble and my count was 85 circling around chirruping. In the tree line next to a black, wet, peaty field I found three more Reed Buntings then 2 Meadow Pipits, one of which sat quietly for a few seconds on a little mound of earth. Not the best picture I know but that soil sure looks full of good things for pipits. Up here at the set aside I disturbed the regular Goldfinch, 11 today, together with 2 Yellowhammers and several more Chaffinch.





I also caught up with the regular Stonechat, which today turned out to be 2.





I made my way back to the barn to drop the bucket in, and as there was some light left I decided to check out another area and the Teal pit. It was down in this quiet corner where the fussy Chaffinch are, the ones that don’t want or need our seed, yet. I had seen them from the barn but when i got near I counted 40 birds + 5 more Fieldfare and 3 Redwing that flew off, the Chaffinch relocating to the trees surrounding the Teal pit.

I didn’t cross to the pool because there is a crop of winter wheat, but I didn’t need to as something spooked the Teal to make them fly around near and far, twisting and turning for several minutes as I waited in the shade and dark of the tall hedge. Eventually they came back to land again in the pool.









What a brilliant couple of hours, but by 2pm the light began to fade.

A Spot of Sun

Another rainsome morning, but the sun came out for an hour this afternoon whilst babysitting Theo, or Little Paul as some know him.

This was just the chance to take a few garden pictures of common birds. Goldfinch, a Starling getting ready for some cold weather, a Blue Tit pretending to be a Treecreeper, a shy Blackbird fresh from digging up my borders again. Finally a Collared Dove waiting to pounce on the crumbs below.

"Right" said Fred

I gave Granada Fred a chance with his TV forecast this morning because he promised a “good” day, “quite windy, but sun in between the showers”.

I chose well with the first spot Fluke Hall Lane because out on the sun soaked wet fields were over 60 Whooper Swans, where they fed in the distance just behind the sea wall. Some of the crowd started whooping, then gradually the whole lot flew off south in small parties until within five minutes they were all gone and my actual count was 65. This corresponds with what happened a week or two ago when I saw over a hundred Whooper Swans flying to Pilling near dusk, so it looks like Pilling may be the roost site for the many Whoopers currently scattered around the Fylde.









Whilst I watched the Whooper Swans fly off a little Sparrowhawk came from the direction of the fields before heading out of sight behind the wood.

Well Fred was right about the wind as I confirmed when I tried to stand on the sea wall beyond Fluke Hall and although a Little Egret braved the gale, I didn’t. Already the clouds gathered, and weighing up the options I decided that if I wanted to see much, most of this morning would of necessity not involve much walking in the wind and rain but looking at well frequented spots via the car.

From the sea wall at Lane Ends I could see the Pink-footed Geese leaving their roost, so while the sun was out I took a few pictures.





Within minutes the dark clouds rolled in and the rain began. What a difference as I took what I thought was a colour picture of some flying Shelduck.



For the record I counted 3000+ Pinkfeet with several hundred distant Shelduck but 5 Little Egret closer in and a Peregrine beating up mostly everything.

With nothing doing I motored on up to the Conder Green area stopping in at Braides where as I watched a small flock of 40 Lapwings on a flood, as a sudden heavy shower forced 300 Starlings to join them. Here's a picture of a male Starling in my garden on a brighter day.



Conder Green was as quiet as expected but I found 4 Little Grebe a bit closer than normal until they realised I was there behind the screen, then 11 Shelduck opposite me did the same, drifting up the pool out of range. Teal numbers were normal with about 35, together with two Goldeneye, but the wind was whipping up the pool water to a lively head so I suspect some hid or sheltered out of sight as the Snipe must have done with none seen today.

The water level in the creek was fairly high due to the low tide heights this week which meant I couldn’t count more than eight Redshank, but the Spotted Redshank was still there and my picture is from a sunnier day.



It’s quite a view from Bodie Hill but perhaps not today where the squally showers and 50mph wind shook the car as I struggled to even open the door. Out near the waters edge I could see many hundreds of Lapwing and more Shelduck, and like at Lane Ends the Lapwing were being tormented by a Peregrine but for me the conditions were making the birding very hard work.



It was now 100% cloud cover with the rain hammering down, therefore pointless trying to walk anywhere to look so I decided to try Bank End from the car. Two more Little Egrets just out in the puddles and a Pied Wagtail that scampered along the tide line ahead of me were normal as was the Kestrel I disturbed from the fence posts. If it could hang above the marsh today it would well deserve its other name, Windhover.



Not for the first time recently the weather defeated me, but Fred, you must do better.

Old Pictures, Old Tales

More wind and rain promised this week doesn’t bode well for much birding or photography but I live in hope of some extensive sunshine later in the week when I will have time to get out. Anyway, today is babysitting and I wouldn’t want to miss that.

So for this evening I’ll post a few aged pictures coupled with a few ancient stories.

When I looked up the date of the first two pictures by referring to some old bird reports I was amazed by how old the transparencies were, how long I held onto them and how they managed to survive the ravages of time. I suppose it helps they were stashed away in the dark in little plastic boxes, and despite a few moves of home and the clearouts that came with pleas of “throw out that old rubbish”, which I resisted on the grounds of preserving vital historical information for future generations, they survived.

The first two show a Grey Phalarope from 26 years ago, September 1983 that turned up at Fairhaven Lake after rough weather. What was fairly remarkable about this bird was how confiding it proved to be, allowing close approach to within feet away as it sailed around the edge of the lake and took to wandering over the grassy areas. Within a few days of its arrival a Red-necked Phalarope was also blown in after a storm, as together the two species entertained the assembled watchers for a day or two. If I remember correctly, the new arrival wasn’t quite as obliging as its counterpart, probably the reason I don’t have a picture of the red-necked, but I do remember seeing them within a foot or two of each other feeding in the detritus of the lake’s surface. Even now I laugh about the somewhat garbled phone message I received at the time "Red-necked Fallahawk on Fairhaven Lake", still something of a household joke.

Maybe there is someone out there who has old slides of them both together. What a furore the same event might cause nowadays, but the resulting multitude and quality of digital pictures would be phenomenal in comparison with my tired old ex slides.

Recently there was a lot of interest shown in a Long-billed Dowitcher found locally near Cockersands and there were also a few others in the UK, but the next picture is of a Short-billed Dowitcher. I took this old photo slide in Ontario Canada in May 1989 where I became fairly familiar with the look and call of the species in the month that I spent there.



Later that year in September 1989 a dowitcher sp turned up at Marton Mere, Blackpool spending its initial time on the northern bank of the mere from where I and one or two others heard it call as it flew around a couple of times. From the diagnostic call, there was no doubt that this bird was a Short-billed Dowitcher, the dull, staccato but fastish Turnstone like “tuttuttut”, quite unlike the high pitched call of Long-billed Dowitcher.

The bird soon relocated to the mere island opposite the south bank where it was not only further away, but where it remained silent until it left later in the day. At its time on the island other observers convinced themselves, perhaps by default as the more common species to occur on this side of the Atlantic, that the bird must be a Long-billed Dowitcher. I believe that the bird was later “accepted” as a Long-billed Dowitcher which really didn’t concern me as I knew what I had seen and heard.

It was in subsequent years, especially in the 1990s, that separation of autumn long-billed and short-billed firmed up, but as they say, “Short-billed Dowitcher, it’s on my list”.

However for anyone with a particular interest in these two species I recommend the following read:

http://www.surfbirds.com/ID%20Articles/dowitchers1005/dowitchers.html

My thanks to Eurico Zimbres for the fantastic picture below of Short-billed Dowitchers, wow, what long bills short-billed have.

And my thanks to http://www.naturespicsonline.com/ for the equally stunning picture of Long-billed Dowitcher.



There was some reaction to my Bardsey memories of a few days ago from fellow Bardsey buffs, so just for them, here is another picture, Yellow-browed Warbler, instantly recognisable as being taken on Bardsey for them that know.

Splashing Out

Do or die this morning to get some birding in despite the cloud and rain.

Dodging the showers, using the car as cover or just waiting in the pouring rain I managed a couple of hours on the moss before the winds picked up again before midday as the showers turned into more persistent rain.

The barn is as good a place as any to start where at least a couple of wagtails are guaranteed but three this morning with a Grey Wagtail then both a male and female Pied Wagtail. It was interesting to watch the pecking order around the choice feeding spot the pile of tailings, the male pied was dominant followed by the female Pied Wagtail with the Grey Wagtail at the bottom of the hierarchy.







A couple of Blackbirds scuttled around, as did a Song Thrush newly taken to the pile of debris.



It was here that 6 Whooper Swans flew over heading due north towards Pilling and Cockerham, also my cue for splashing down the track in the same direction to check out the Tree Sparrows. There were lots of Woodpigeon in escape mode today because of another shoot on the adjacent farm coupled with the attentions of a Peregrine. Twice I saw it fly purposefully across the moss, once east to west and then west to east, on both occasions causing a grey flurry of Woodpigeon activity against the depressing grey skies as in places the tree tops changed from green to neutral where they settled.





I parked up opposite the Buzzard spot where sure enough the two hung around long enough to call a couple times before going deeper into the wood out of sight. I have decided that Buzzards, these two especially, are very adept at hiding themselves if they wish and there’s not much I can do about it yet, but roll on a nice sunny day. Over 200 Tree Sparrows and the dozen Chaffinch hugged the hedge today, reluctant to fly across even to their usual alternative but preferring to hedge hop to where I had just come from; they must have known I was turning left instead of doing a backtrack.



It was a very overcast morning, the sort of occasion when concealed Roe Deer see someone coming to leave a glimpse of white backside and swaying vegetation as they melt into the background. They saw me this morning but gave themselves enough time to casually disappear and for me to get a couple of distant pictures.



There was lots of activity up the path where a few well laden hawthorns held several Blackbirds and a Song Thrush, together with 10 or 12 mobile Chaffinch and some of the Tree Sparrows I had just disturbed from the food. This is a regular spot for Reed Bunting where I found the expected two but no sign of the Stonechat today. I splattered through the plantation, not altogether surprised to almost stand on a Snipe near the foot of a tree but little else apart from a Kestrel doing the rounds. I just coped with turning the car on the sloping muddy field entrance but until the ground dries somewhat I don’t think I will risk it again.

Back at the barn I spent more time watching the wagtails feeding around the fast running stream that now forms part of the road.





My time proved productive when two groups of Chaffinch flew over, first about 30 then a smaller flock of 14. I added these to my earlier ones to get a figure of 65, easily the best count here this autumn. But in the past we have noticed that there can be numbers of Chaffinch in the area that do not necessarily use the provided seed but continue to forage naturally, even if the weather turns cold.

From the Archive

There’s not a lot to be done today with a weather warning out for North West England of heavy rain and floods. I did my swimming yesterday, but not outdoors in the floods even though lately I do appear to be growing a useful pair of webbed feet and I swear I contracted swimmer’s ear from the ingress of rain rather than pool water. I have an acquaintance who swims in the sea off Fleetwood in all weather; apparently there are a group of them that do so, but I don’t know if Seumus has spotted any when sea watching, unless they went down in the notebook as “unidentified mammal sp”. So it’s not just birders who are mad.

This morning I’m stuck in again in front of the PC trying to keep the blog going with a few old pictures to entertain other troubled British birders who need a bird fix during these inclement times.

This morning’s theme is “Birds I Don’t See In The Hand Much Any More But Here’s A Picture Of Some” with a bit of a story, a touch of reminisce and a smidgeon of nostalgia. And by way of an apology, because it’s so long since I have actually witnessed them in the hand, the pictures are by definition fairly old if not quite sepia toned which adds to the authenticity of a walk down Memory Lane.

The first photo is of a Manx Shearwater being released in the early morning following keeping overnight after becoming a casualty of the infamous Bardsey lighthouse. If my memory serves me correctly the hand in the picture belongs to one Colorado Dave, so called not because he hailed from Colorado but because he could demolish a plateful of spuds quicker than a Colorado Beetle.



There are many thousands of pairs of Manx Shearwaters on Bardsey Island where they breed in the rabbit warrens and tumbledown old walls. I spent many nights on Bardsey, not only going out ringing them but often waking up in Cristin hearing their harsh cackling, wailing and moaning sounds coming from the mountainside. A description of their voice on The Isle of Man in 1731, where they were originally known as Manx Puffins, reads: "The spirit which haunted the coasts have originated in the noise described as infernal. The disturbed spirit of a person shipwrecked on a rock adjacent to this coast wanders about it still, and sometimes makes so terrible a yelling that it is heard at an incredible distance. They tell you that houses even shake with it; and that, not only mankind, but all the brute creation within hearing, tremble at the sound. But what serves very much to increase the shock is that, whenever it makes this extraordinary noise, it is a sure prediction of an approaching storm. . . . At other times the spirit cries out only, " Hoa, hoa, hoa !" with a voice little, if anything, louder than a human one."

Well that is a bit of a dramatic description fit for the times I suppose, but I agree the calls are very spooky, especially from yards away in the pitch black of a windy wet Welsh island whilst trying to find the outside loo. And not the best sudden awakening experience from a bad dream when the previous night’s entertainment consisted of consuming a week’s supply of red wine during an extended round robin of the day’s sightings.

Talking of nausea, this isn’t the best video for anyone liable to sea sickness but it does show some manxies.



Ringers that live south of a line drawn from the Mersey to the Wash will be more familiar with Nightingale than us in coastal Fylde where news of a local Nightingale would create a stir amongst those that list. A stir?, I should probably change that to another word or phrase all the way up a scale from mild interest at the bottom to blind panic at the top. This is another Bardsey picture where just south of the imaginary line it is also rare, however not only did this one sing briefly, it also ended up in a mist net.



I contrast this scarcity with my limited experience in the south of England (where is Watford?) where I believe Nightingale is very common despite being confused with night singing Robins by softy southerners.

I am much more familiar with Nightingale from my visits to the Balearics and Menorca especially, where in May Nightingale is the most common species, more abundant even than Sardinian Warbler. As we tour the island most of that we hear through the open windows and sun roof are Nightingales and Corn Buntings from respectively below, middle or the top of proper hedgerows.

Then on Menorca there's always the Balearic Shearwaters at Cap de Cavalleria in a landscape so reminiscent of Bardsey, but that's a tale for another day.

But let’s all cheer ourselves up with a Nightingale song and pretend it’s spring again.



And Bardsey again where one autumn I walked this Ring Ouzel into the withies Heliogoland. Even up here in coastal Lancashire not far from the Pennines, Ring Ouzels are very scarce in autumn and getting rarer in spring, where I always reckoned to find one on my April 19th birthday somewhere close to the coast but now I’m lucky to find one in April full stop and this year it’s too late again.