Driving home from Maldon, Mark commented that he'd planned a Brecks trip this spring that had probobaly passed us by. We decided to wake early and if the weather looked good head out for a morning in the Breckland spring. Our first stop at Santon Downham, in the gorgeous first warmth of the day was full of singing Redpoll, Brambling and Siskin. Nuthatch and Marsh Tit called all over and the walk along the river was full of birds. It wasn't a long wait for the first of a pair of Lesser-Spotted Woodpeckers to be found. They showed well, if a little high, in the boughs and always a challenging to locate and keep up with. Mark got some video of the female.
Walking back a Grey Wagtail settled on the flotsam and jetsom picking at encased larvae and thwacking the bejesus out of them. Slow motion video catching the subtlety of the process.
We headed to the least best kept secret in the woods to look for Goshawks, everything was pretty well perfect and 3 birds gave prolonged views at varying distances and much of the time as close as you could hope for. Not quite Berliner style but the best views I've had in the UK, really enjoyable.
With Woodlarks cascading and Kites joining the thermals we filled our eyes with cobalt blue and headed back to the woods. A few weeks earlier I'd had a damp visit with the family to Lynford where we'd been treated to some very close views of Siskin and a flock of Brambling before we aborted the walk sodden to the skin.
Fast forward a couple of weeks and in blazing sunshine Siskins displayed and 5 Firecrest zipped around amidst their needling cascade of song, a flashing crown ablaze in the shadows of the boughs. A lone male Brambling, a morsel of memory of the winters' flock. Crossbills chipped away overhead.
Our last stop, on what was proving to be a very successful clean up, was Weeting Heath. Although we heard the wailing of Stone Curlew it was the long, curved billed Eurasian Curlews on the grassland of note. We reflected that the habitat management may well be targeted at Curlew now, such is the demise of the species as a breeding bird in the lowlands. Four Woodlark flew past, tails shunted into their bodies. Exciting as these were, it was not these treasures of the warrens that we sought and we scanned the skies for raptors. Buzzards and single Kite and Goshawk appeared and then, very close by, the striking plumage, almost pied, of a young Rough-legged Buzzard flashed in the sky. It really was a very well marked bird and repeatedly soared and hovered overhead, returning to a dead tree for a while to preen.
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