One day like this a year will see me right

What a beautiful morning, dawn broke clear and sharp on the Washes.  Ice crunch of frost under foot and cold scalding on the ears.  Bugling wild swan and whistling Wigeon all around.  I did birdwatch but everything I watched this morning was in the context of the greater scene, the vast canvas of the floods and the light playing across them. 

Ben is not watching a Red Throated Diver

Fabulous Fieldfare

from dusk til dawn

On Friday evening I got the chance to see the swans at Welney at close quarters from the basement of the main observatory during the swan feed. Primarily, it was to do some ring recording, and we found some interesting stuff out about the age of some of the swans there, and where they go when not at Welney. One of the birds was ringed at Caerlaverock, another at Martin Mere. Such information is vital to the appreciation of the Whooper swan population and its habits, and reveals the importance of Welney as a wintering spot. Some of these swans have been coming back for years. It was quite surreal to say the least, being just a few feet away from them as they poked among the mallard at the grain that Lou shovelled out from her wheelbarrow. They were oblivious to my presence as I stood in the dark cellar, and I had to keep reminding myself that they were real wild birds that would fly off if I came within 200 metres of them out on the fen.

In complete contrast, this morning Duncan and I enjoyed dawn on the washes while hunting a diver that had been seen in hte area. We didn't see the diver, but could not complain about the scene that lay before us. Wildfowl scattered across the floods and trees and bushes and lines of semi-submerged reeds were silhouetted against the water-sky. A real landscape photographer's dream, and sadly I only had my digiscoping lens. I could have attempted some monolithic Hockney-esque photo mosaic, but I thought better of it and just soaked up the atmosphere.

Winter bites.

After this mornings' superb sunrise the sky softened and the wind washed away the colour. Subtle pinks and greys made the black shapes of crows and cormorants stand out boldly, while other birds seemed to blend into the background. 

Three Common Gulls were with the Black-heads for a while, but there was no sign of any ducks until a female Marsh Harrier breezed past, sending Shoveler, Teal and Gadwall darting off, only to skim back minutes later.

I had hoped that the Peregrine might still be about, but two Buzzards were the only other birds of prey about. They flew up into one of the large trees that overlook the back of the settling beds. One then continued over hte village, harassed by a party of crows.

Five or six Long-Tailed Tits arrived at the reedbed edge, poking around a hawthorn bush, and a charm of about twenty Goldfinch perched briefly in the top of a willow.

I had only been out for about an hour and nothing out of the ordinary had happened, just all sorts of different birds doing what they do, and I felt better for having noticed it.

The Raptur

The garganey was still there this evening, colder brown against the rippled steel water, yesterdays' caerulean replaced by chilling prussian blue. The duck were gathered in the bay of reeds, out of view from the road, and wary of the four Harriers that floated over the reedbed, now dark as the thin light petered out. The Harriers settled in to roost- a brief flurry of wing then dropping into the tangle, then up again to find a better spot, or just not wanting to be the last to bed.

Up again, but this time for a different reason. The small gathering of Black-headed Gulls too, rose and made their way towards the road in a tight flock. A Harrier tilted, jerked away as another bird arced past. A big bird, but fast and sleek and strong, with wings like sharks' teeth. It's rump caught the last of the light and shone silver grey as it turned at the top of its parabola, and plunged nonchalantly down towards the Harriers, now all up, with an easy carefree speed, just enough to spook the locals. Then away low through the withered elders at the back of the reedbed. Peregrine.

Dapplers

A late afternoon potter along Queen Adelaide Way looking at the Beet Pits and fields saw some dapper dabblers steal the show.  A good number of wildfowl on the pits included a fine drake Pintail amongst the Gadwall, Shoveler, Wigeon and Mallard.  Still amongst the Teal was the Garganey which, when in flight, appears to be missing some primaries and trailing a foot.  The poor migration condition of this bird suggests a strategic delay in southwards movement, there are of course risks to this and it will be interesting to see whether a spell of freezing weather will push it on, finish it off or prove it to be a resilient beast.

 

 

Out on the fields a blizzard of gulls followed the plough and Lapwing and Golden Plover were evident.  Hundreds of Goldies in folding V's and swirling clusters peppered across the cobalt skies.  Marsh Harriers popped up and down across the reedbed as we hoped, unrewarded this time, that a Bittern would do a brief roost flight.

 

 



womans hour

As the morning sun was shining, I decided it would be a nice day for a drive across the fen to find some swans. Now that the weather has finally turned cold, I figured that the Bewick's would be starting to arrive in larger numbers.

I set out, car radio on, listening to radio Four, eyebrow raised as some woman harped on about how men cannot be feminists, and that there is in fact a difference between gender equality and sex equality- and one of them is good and one of them is bad (?????) and by the time I had driven half way up the drove between Littleport and Ten Mile Bank, the sun had faded and a grey haze hid the distance- weatherwise that is. There were swans, however, and in fairly good numbers- so I started to count. They were spread across a few wheat and beet fields, and awkward ripples in the land, and reed lined ditches made counting difficult- whole families of Whooper Swans could magically appear or disappear as if erupting from the black soil itself.

It was while scanning and counting one particular flock that a large hovering shape grabbed my attention like a Kestrel grabbing a vole. Damn! I can't stop counting now or i'll forget where I left off. Seconds later, the scan was finished and I panned my scope back towards the distant railway- and a Rough-legged Buzzard turned, hovered with tail showing and then slunk off into the mist.

Lets be honest- this was what I was really hoping to see, although I didn't quite expect it in the location I was now at. The buzzard was three km away from where Dunc has seen it, so a fair range this bird must have.

It didn't reappear so I turned my attention to a gaggle of geese that were with the swans. Almost invisible against the fen blackness, 15 White-fronted and 4 pink-footed geese. Five hundred metres inside the Ely 10 for any patch limit pedants. The White-fronts were especially nice to see- three pairs with young, the young birds still without black belly barring or indeed their white fronts.

I turned for home, passing groups of Blackheaded and Common Gulls loafing on the ploughwork, and the odd Mistle Thrush and Kestrel on the wires. While driving back along the river to Queen Adelaide I noticed activity in a small triangular field just by the bridge over the Lark. 300 or so Starlings and about 150 fieldfare- unsettled and moving between the berry laden hedge, onto the grass and then onto the track where they were drinking from small gritty puddles. Its the first decent flock of fieldfare I've seen this year, a sign that winter has finally caught up with us. I couldn't resist taking a few pics in the poor light. 

I got home and the sun came out.

Titter ye not....

Earlier in the year Andy had a drive by sighting of a Marsh Tit at Witcham, since then there have been a couple of reports of Marsh Tit in that parish.  It's a scarce species within the Ely10 but I had high hopes of seeing one when we decided to take a family walk on Saturday afternoon in Fordham Woods.  First bird I heard was calling a sneezing "pitchoo" and a handsome Marsh Tit bounced and dropped through the thickety hedge on the entrance track, I was over the moon before I stepped foot on the boardwalks that cross the boggy woodland floor. This was my first visit to these small woods and I was beguiled by the wet Alder wood with open under canopy of sedge and mire.  I heard another Marsh Tit, admired a corner where I imagined a spring Firecrest singing and pondered the decline of Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers which would have been a reasonable proposition in this habitat in decades past.  A great alternative to Wicken for a toddler friendly walk, I look forward to watching the seasons change here over the next year.

 

Sunday dawned grey and wet and the day continued in that vein.  After lunch we took the campervan out to keep the engine ticking over and headed for Welney.  Despite the rain I decided to have a look for Buzzards out the back of Lady Fen, I was surprised on first scan to find a hovering buteo and quickly got the scope out.  It was the Rough-legged Buzzard, I took some care checking the bird which was at some distance but felt happy with the extent of dark belly patches, tail pattern, wing structure and size of carpal patches.  It dropped into the hedgerow where I had last seen it and  I took a dampening as I walked out across the field to get a better view.  Better being a subjective term, definitely closer but unfortunately more obscured by branch and hampered by lens drizzle.  Nonetheless a very nice surprise under the dismal conditions.  On the reserve there were coach loads of avian admirers and lots of birds to look through, a flock of 30 or so Pink-feet flew down along the washland and were likely to have been the birds that were reported over Witcham earlier in the afternoon. The rising water levels and heavy drizzle made it ideal for ducks but not so great for birding, the lure of a cuppa and cake won out.

Swanning

Yesterday was altogether more pleasant weatherwise than either Friday (which was freezing and windy), and today, a wet gloom of a day. I was therefore very fortunate to spend Saturday with Lou and Gary, and some of Lou's bridesmaids, on a Swan safari to Southery, looking for colour-ringed birds out on the fen.

I must admit my main reason for going was not to record swan data. I can't help it, but I find swan counting dull at the best of times, and I am easily distracted. I really wanted to luck into that bloody rough-leg, which everybody who has been to Welney in the last two weeks seems to have seen, but which still eludes me. 

It was therefore something of a relief to discover- or should that be not discover, very limited numbers of the flying sheep that make the washes and surrounding farmland their winter home. We only found one significant flock, of about 350 swans, and only 25 of these were Bewick's. It seems that it's not just our neck of the woods that is experiencing "the Great Mild". The Bewick's are apparently still languishing in the lakeland of Estonia, in no particular hurry to get here. Well, having been somewhat duped into becoming an official swan recorder, I thought i'd better start counting, firstly the number of individuals, then a species breakdown, then the number of young, and how many in each family party... then just as I was nodding of into a swan induced hypnotic state- five geese!

This is a bit more interesting I thought- who cares how many swans there are and why they're declining, when there's some geese to identify from quite a long way away in the haze. Pinks or Beans - both good inland birds - were the obvious candidates, and despite none of them displaying the grey scapular sheen, a wing stretch then a short flight revealed enough detail to rule out Bean geese. With so many on the Norfolk coast it seems absurd that we don't get more of these geese in fens, but there you go- birds eh. And why stop there? when just 400 metres to the south was the beginning of the Ely 10. Yep-I measured it on google earth when I got back. I may have to start a Queen Adelaide 10 to get them on any spurious and ultimately pointless list I want to create to constrain my peregrinations.

Falsehood

No shade, No shine, No butterflies, No bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,

November!

I’m rather fond of Thomas Hood’s ‘November’ but the final verse has always seemed a bit much – especially about the birds! Plenty of shine (and consequent shade) when I surfaced this morning and a bumblebee on a flower of our winter honeysuckle. Over to Wicken Fen. Many leaves still evident on the trees, arguably even more impressive in their golds and yellows than their summer hues. Fruits still abundant too; the black berries of Privet and the tempting glossy red berries of Guelder Rose. Some Hawthorns visibly sagging under the weight of all their haws.

A quiet half hour by the Brick Pit watching the comings-and-goings on the bird-feeders. Lovely close-up views of Goldfinch, Greenfinch, Chaffinch, Blue Tit, Robin, Wren and Great Spotted Woodpecker. A solitary Redwing briefly perched in the sunshine. Walking towards Baker’s Fen lots of Fieldfare passing over. To the West Mere hide and the first bird I set eyes on as I open the flap is a Great Egret! Remarkably, my 3^rd of the year, but by far the best views I’ve yet obtained – quite stunning in the sun, though this individual seems to have a penchant for catching twigs.

Over to Burwell Fen. Kestrels are absolutely everywhere and manage to replace Wood Pigeon as my ‘Ooh, what’s that?!’ bird for the afternoon. 3 Stonechat flicking about and perching on the tops of Burdock. The water level has risen in the pools by Reach Lode and the mud seems to have been covered for now. Fewer waders in consequence, though decent flocks of Lapwing and some Golden Plover wheeling about. A mystery warbler scolds me from a ditch. A noticeable white eye ring and the hint of an eye stripe. Quite a stiff tail, or is it just holding it like that to balance? A continual ‘chit, chit, chit’ call, a little like a sharper version of a Blackbird. Crossed with a Stonechat. Or something… Cetti’s or a late Reed? I give up.

Threatening black clouds thankfully skirt the Fen, making the sunlight seem even more intense as I head back. Instead it rains owls… 2 Short-Eareds appear and quarter the rough ground, occasionally flying up together in some sort of spat. A Barn Owl joins them and for one brief moment all 3 are together in my 'scope. I briefly wonder which is the more beautiful but give this impossible-to-answer question up and concentrate on enjoying the moment. A 3^rd, then a 4^th Short-Eared Owl joins in, then a 2^nd Barn Owl. I need a neck like a…well, owl, to keep track of what’s going on. No sooner does one bird go to ground than another pops up. And every so often one flies straight towards me and I get to look right into that perfect face. As if that wasn’t quite enough a ringtail Hen Harrier joins the party and I'm spoilt yet more as it briefly shares the ‘scope with a Short-Eared Owl...

Things quieten down and I move on, but there are 2 more Barn Owls waiting for me on Harrison’s Drove, one sitting close-by on a post and allowing me to ‘scope him (or her) as he (or she) stares back. A Snipe hurtles overhead and as I skirt Baker’s Fen a Water Rail squeals. As the light fails I take the path along by St. Edmund’s Fen. There’s a decent corvid roost forming and as I pass I disturb the occupants of those trees closest to the path, the clamour rising in volume, no doubt in protest at having to  re-establish sleeping arrangements.

No birds? Hood should have got out more. Although I didn’t see a butterfly. I’ll give him that.

November spawned a .......Garganey

Foggy November mornings are not ideal for searching out birds across the Washes and even as the gloom cleared we were unable to find the Green-winged Teal that had been found at Witcham Gravel the day before.  We checked through a flock of presumed Wigeon in the murk looking for little duck and Ben commented on the Trumpeter like features of the Swan with the group.  Scopes at full zoom through the gloom it was still showing bill patterning in line with a Trumpeter and we began to discuss the bird a little more.  A couple of dogs swam into the wildfowl, how strange they don't spook the assembled duck and why... there's a bloke there, thigh high in the water picking up the swan.  Call it a trick of the mist or more likely birding ineptitude but we had been duped, all the birds were decoys.   At least this explained the Nearctic origins of the Swan, and we can take some ironic pleasure in knowing that we had successfully identified the decoy swan to species, how we laughed across the dewy cradge bank.

Heading to Welney to have a look for Buzzards the fog thickened and a walk across the fields was at best enigmatic but it was inevitably impossible conditions for raptor watching.  A return look through the video footage of last week's Rough-Leg revealed this freeze frame which by no means conclusively identifies the bird as a Rough-Leg but does, I think, eliminate Ben's pale Buzzard on tail pattern.

 

Returning to the uplands of Ely the fog cleared again and a quick look on the settling beds produced a Bittern that flew a short distance appearing to have been spooked by a low flying Cormorant. This is the first Bittern I've seen here for many, many months and a Cetti's Warbler burst forth in song to celebrate.  Later in the day an unseasonal Garganey was a found with the Teal flock,  and it was still present this morning when I was able to excel again in the esoteric art of blurry bird video.

 



 



 

 

On approaching Welney.

Kestrels seem to be having a good winter so far- I counted seven between Welney and Pymoor, and there were a few more hunting over the fields on my journey from Ely. I took this sequence from the balcony at Welney's reserve centre as it hovered above the hedge along the road. In contrast, a female Hen harrier flew low along the ditches beyond Lady Fen, and a young Marsh harrier harrassed the waders on the reserve itself, sending them crying into the air ballooning into great flocks.
On the way to Welney this morning a host of Starlings straddled the road, drinking from a puddle, then flowing down onto the black field and glittered. At one point they surrounded my van as I drove slowly along, camera poking out of the window hoping for a lucky shot..