exhibition part III

I think these last three are the paintings I'm most happy with. All of them reflect vivid memories of recent months, fleeting moments seared onto my memory and hopefully developed in the watery paint.

This last Autumn saw a number of good days at the coast - with potential seemingly awaiting us in every bush. While Yellow-Browed Warblers have become almost a cliche of October on the Norfolk coast, the Pallas' Warbler remains an extra special bird worth finding. I've been lucky to find a few in previous years, and with the movement along the coast turning up all sorts of migrants, it seemed that another one surely must be a cert. Luckily there were very few birders crowding the walk from Wells to Holkham - and it was along this stretch, after a very long day, that a small flock of birds darted from tree to tree, keeping just ahead of us as the dusk closed in. A flash of eyestripe and there it was - In the shadow and from slightly below, it wasn't immediately obvious, but then, it turned its head to reveal the lemon crown stripe that sets it apart from its close congeners. The birds were moving so quickly, there was no time for photos. I just had to try to absorb the shape before it was gone, and make a quick note in my fieldbook. 

The walk along from Thistle Corner is sadly lacking when it comes to rare migrants. On some days it's pretty lacking in birds of any sort. But there's usually a Robin or two around, quitely seeping within the dense Hawthorns and Blackthorns, or rippling across the pathway. They can be cautiously tame, and quite often will perch expectantly in the open. I had thought about making some Christmas cards - and a Robin in snow was the obvious theme. Shame about the snow.

A couple of days after I finished the Robin, I woke up to a scene I'd hoped for. Snow had fallen and covered the garden. But I hardly had time to take it all in, when a Sparrowhawk suddenly dashed in, pausing on a branch just outside the window. It was gone almost before I'd had a chance to grab a pencil, and all I could do was roughly sketch a brief outline of the upright hawk, breast feathers ruffled. Looking through my sketchbookss for reference, I found some head studies I'd done a few years ago, and so was able to piece together the details. The bird had been a juvenile, but I decided to paint an adult male, simply for the chance to explore the colour palette. Something happens when you put paint onto a drawing. For some reason, the form changes - exposing areas that suddenly don't seem right. Looking at the bird now, I think perhaps the tail is a bit too short. When I'd drawn it, I couldn't help thinking it looked too much like a female. I fiddeld with it's face a bit - but while it's face now looked smaller, I reckon that maybe the rest of the body was pushed out of proportion. I took a bit off the tail to try to redress the balance, but I'm not sure it succeeded. Oddly - it looks better in close-up than it does as a small thumbnail - so for best viewing, click on the image, open in a new tab and enlarge it.

Still, I was quite pleased with many of the different areas of the painting, and the process of painting it should help if I paint more sprawks. And there's definitely more sprawks to paint.

 

Martians know

The flurry of snow was a welcome change to the frankly annoying dankness of the last week. It's been cold and windy and wet. But today, for an hour, the winter threatened to wipe clean the slate and transform the brown.

 Didn't last.

 Never does these days.

 

Exhibition -part II

Not all of the pictures hanging up on the wall at Welney are recent works from this year. Back in hte before times, Dunc and I spent a couple of hours at Titchwell beach watching the seaduck lingering offshore. Among the Scoters, Mergansers and Eider, were Long-Tailed Duck. A few males paraded in front of the females, their heads swelled and white feathers shining in the strong light. These duck are all too often just a bit far away, but when they're close enough, you get hte chance to see just how enigmatic they are. There really is no other duck like them. despite them sporting lots of distinct plumage changes, they can't be mistaken for any other species, and it's always a real treat to see these visitors from hte far north. On their arctic breeding grounds, the males are wrapped in dark chocolate and chestnut, but when they drift south and gather off our shores, it's as if they've been coated in frost and capped with snow.

I immediately grabbed a small canvas when I got back to the studio and set to work on a simple motif to record my memories of the sharp blue waves and one of the Ice Princes.

Other visitors in winter drop into the birch woods in small drifts and are equally well met. Redpolls share much of the colour scheme of the Old Squaws, but that scarlet cap is the focus. Back in the Autumn of 2019, myself and Rich came across a small group at Holkham. There was still too much foliage on hte trees to get unobstructed views, and the strong light was against us, but we could see that these were Mealie Redpolls from Scandinavia, colder than our native ones. One bird in particular may have been a Coue's Arctic Redpoll, but identification in those conditions, and at range, was ultimately forgotten as we were already struggling to pin down a possible Siberian Chiffchaff in the trees closer to us.

I couldn't put up a show at Welney without Godwits. In recent years, they've become almost as significant as the Swans there. I've been lucky enough to have had intimate experiences with the Welney Godwits, from egg to adult. There is something very calming about watching them chuckling and probing in the late Summer evening, just a few weeks after hatching. It's hard to imagine the scene while hte cold January bitterness still lingers, but in just a couple of months, these same birds will be returning to the wet meadows of the washes and the 'tick-tock' calls will be added to the background of the Fen Spring.

Since it is Winter, I couldn't help thinking that I should put at least one image of the British Season on the wall. Of all British birds, the Robin is perhaps the most familiar, and most regarded. They stare back at us expectantly as we dig the garden or stroll along a country lane. Scuff up the ground, stand back and they will dash to inspect the work, ready to glean any exposed grubs and worms. 

 

Harrier gathering

 

The Harriers at the settling beds have been performing superbly over the last couple of weeks. I've been trying to get down at dusk as often as possible - mainly to get a glimpse of the Hen Harrier - but in the meantime hte Marshies have been putting on quite a display. The other evening I experienced a great gathering, in the company of a couple of avid Ely10 fans, Sally and David. Always hard to count without missing the beauty of the individual birds, we had over a dozen birds up together at any one time, and at one stage most of them seemed curiously interested in one small patch of reeds. The whole spectacle was full of different interactions - individual birds chasing others, some birds suddenly dropping low, others circling at height, while in the distance more birds were arriving on casually bowed wings. 

A ragged blanket of mizzly rain drew close as the skies darkened - could it be that the oncoming weather had prompted an increased urgency to find a suitable roosting spot? On fine evenings, the birds seem to arrive unhurriedly and drop into the reeds only when darkness obscures their movements. Windy evenings see the appearence of perhaps a certain 'nervousness', as the birds spend a long time patrolling the roost site - as if to make doubly sure there are no dangers hidden by the white noise and interference in the rustling reeds.

The Hen arrived just before 4pm, and did its usual brief back-and-forth, just above reed height, before dropping into its usual roosting spot. As per usual, a tantalising view that ensured I'll be back before too long.

now, it's personal.

Lockdown has happened again, and the news on the grapevine is that Welney is closing down completely. This is a little bit annoying, since I'd only just put up some paintings on the wall in the centre.

So, thanks to Dunc's prompting, I am going to show them here, on the blog, where literally 3 people will see them. 

I won't put them all up at once - don't want to overload you with sensory euphoria, and this affords me some space to write a little exposition on each painting.

So, stick on one of Tony's Dawn Chorus recordings, and sit back and enjoy.......

The First painting in the collection is one that I started many years ago. Those familiar with my working practices will be no doubt surprised to hear that will be the only time you see that phrase, as most of the works in the exhibition are from this year - and not just this year, but this winter.

The Hawk Owl is a picture of the first one I saw, in Finland with Dunc, Mark and Simon. Only metres from the road, at about midnight, with intense light stunning the birch scrub, the Owl sat motionless as  Bramblings buzzed in the thicket and a Wood Sandpiper poked around a roadside puddle. The green buds were beginning to open, a sign of the lateness of the northern Spring. It was June. I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed that the owl wasn't as fiersome looking as I had imagined it would be. The feathers on its head were fluffed up, making it look like a stuffed toy, but the unblinking gaze was transfixing.

I've been thinking about Scandinavia again, recently, and so I looked again at the picture, which had been set aside in an unsure state. I wasn't completely happy with the barring on its underparts, and the body lacked a little sophistication. I'd already tried a few times to get it right, and progress had been unsatisfactory, so I left it to simmer. Taking the bold step of slapping paint over the barring with a big brush, somehow it looked immediately better. Checking my the sketches and photos I'd taken at the time, I had a clearer idea of how the bars should look, and within half an hour, I'd brought the picture up to a standard I was happy enough with.

We saw two species of woodpecker in Finland that I hadn't seen before, but the Great-spotted is a frequent visitor to my garden. It's been a long time since I painted one, but I took the chance to use as a motif for a painitng about the apple trees just outside the kitchen window. The bark and moss creates a wealth of pattern and subtle colour, and the tangle of branches and twigs forms the structure of the composition, leaving the woodpecker to rest for a moment in the stillness of a damp December morning.

Just before the last lockdown, I headed over to Wicken with Rich, his dad and Loz. The sun turned the sky peachy yellow - almost as bright as Trevor's boots. Looking south across the largest patch of reeds, a male Marsh Harrier patrolled in the darkening sea of Phragmites, its wings silver blue as it drifted on the slight current. It was the only Harrier was saw that evening, but the scene stuck in my mind as somethng to capture in paint. I don't think I succeeded completely in distilling the complete vision, but it'll do for a start. 

As we walked back, the clear sky still beaming, three swans headed off towards the distant washes. Again, the contrast between the yellow sky and the shining blue plumage of the birds was the thing I wanted to capture. This picture isn't in the exhibition, but I think it's a more confident piece, and better for it, thanks to the exploratory work done while painting the Harrier.

 

Tristis (Trust Us)

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hX7PzexPEJA

After too many hours hanging out at the sewage works yesterday I saw the sun poke out and the gloom clear around midday and headed back to try and get some prolonged views and perhaps some pics of the Siberian Chiffchaff.  All went to plan once I moved myself round to the other side of the filter bed and found 3 standard chiffs and the Sibe flitting around a couple of bushes close to the fence.  Ben has highlighted many times the incredible fickleness of light when observing these birds but they have an "isness" and I drank this bird in fully.  At times appearing grey and white and at others much buffer the "isness", which is a subtler form of "jizz", was a thing to behold.  No issues at any point picking this bird out from the others, it looks like a different species all together - well to my eyes anyway.  The following, highly cropped pics show how appearances can change.

I did have a little look first at the water meadows where the reported Ruddy Shelduck proved itself to be a very handsome Cape Shelduck, which has been popping up off and on most of the year.

 

Black Hawks Down

The Settling Beds have been living up to their name over the Christmas period. On a good evening up to 17 Marsh Harriers and a ringtail Hen have been gathering, circling, and dropping into the darken reedbed, disappreaing into the gloom, swallowed up by the shivering seed heads. They emerge at dawn, silvery frost stiffening their tails, and after a brief circuit, they're off across the fields. The evening return has been difficult to glean, with dull sunless days bringing them to roost early, and a bright sunset seeing them silhoutted in the bushes and patrolling the reeds for an extra hour. Always, the Hen Harrier arrives late and drops in quickly.

 

Where You Bean?

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XelDCDRnboE&list=PL56zyP290Gk2tJBpWHhF3GEQsXgcbuQdd

Barely had the ink dried, or code published, on my xmas eve post and a dozen Bean Geese turned up at Four Balls Farm, joining the large flock of wild swans.  I was able to use some maize cover to get close and in the frozen morning light the condensing vapour from each bugling swan drifted across the flock.  There were a few White-fronts with them and some Bewick's too, you may be able to pick these up in the videos.

Even closer to home, as tier 4 covid restrictions started here on Boxing Day, a Great White Egret finding the Ely water meadows to it's liking and the ringtail Hen Harrier still roosting at the Beet Pits.  The roost creating quite a bit of interest and early morning counts revealing up to 18 Marsh Harriers leaving the roost (Sergio and Mark P).

Yesterday I had yet another look at the Sewage Works to look through the passerines.  I had been loitering for quite some time around the fence looking over the stinky filter beds.  It has become more difficult to watch the wintering Chiffchaffs since the Elders in the centre of the works have been removed but my ear quickly recognised the peeping quality of a Siberian Chiffchaff calling, I managed to activate the voice recorder on my phone and get some audio of it, the bird itself showed well for about a minute and looked just right for a tristis - it was still present today but not forthcoming enough for me to get a photo.  The sonogram shows a fairly monotone call "peep" but with some upward slurring which I think can be heard but doesn't show the down slur of collybita.   

  

Ely10birding · Siberian Chiffchaff

After the sewage works I popped down to the harrier roost where the ringtail showed really well and the resident Chinese Water Deer was grazing up on the bank.

 

A Whiter Shade Of Pale

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=NqJCBU5ruq0

It HAS been a white christmas around the Ely10.  A couple of Bewick Swans joined the Stretham swan flock but the White-fronts had moved on.  

 

It seems incredible that in the last couple of years Great White Egrets have become bump into birds around the fens and a flock of Cattle Egrets around Welney a semi-permanent fixture.  A Great White Egret stalking through the floods at Earith braved increasingly heavy rainfall, surely making the search for food beneath the bubbling meniscus much more difficult.

Cattle Egrets, showing a much more seek and destroy tactic through the rough, wet grassland of Lady Fen.