A celebration of birding and natural history, generally within a 10 mile radius of Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire, UK.
It would be great if you wanted to share your Ely 10 birding news, experiences, photos, art and video through this blog. Please contact hairyfolkster@gmail.com with your post or to join the authorship, I'll get you on the list quicker than a fly over Alpine Swift.
A lovely bright blue sky led me to Fordham Woods, I love this little reserve - it's flooded umderstorey and gnarly tangles of timber makes me think of Dagoba, the planet Luke Skywalker finds Yoda on in Empire Strikes Back. Today I kept finding little Christmas painted stones around the boardwalk, I enjoyed them. I enjoyed even more seeing Marsh Tits, I thought they may have been lost in this wood with only a pair or two ever having established themselves. I haven't seen any here for over a year so it was a pleasure to watch a couple of birds feeding and seeming thoroughly at home.
Amongst the Goldfinches feeding on the Elders a few Siskins, twisting around amongst the few leaves remaining on the trees.
On the way back from the Dusky Warbler last week I stopped off at Stretham to look for a pack of White-fronted Geese that had loosely joined a herd of wild swans. I counted 12 but there had been 13 reported , part of an influx that I thought would have brought many more onto the Washes. For the first year in many there haven't been any Tundra Been Geese on the Washes either. Hopefully one for the New Year.
Distraction from painting this evening - as something terrible was playing out at the level crossing in the village, two male Bullfinches casually nibbled away at hte remains of hte season's blackberries.
No need to rush. Saturday was for the eager beavers. sunday - a complete misery of a day. So with more placid weather on the forecast, Monday seemed a reasonable bet. Overnight downpours should surely have kept the diminuitive visitor tucked away in the undergrowth, and the prospect of some early morning Sunshine would prompt some activity. A Red Kite sagged low across the silver dawn, chased over the Stretham roundabout by a mob of crows, unseen by the rush hour just metres below.
The Sun was still struggling to rise above the hedgeline as I arrived and took position on the bank side. A brief chat with the two other birders present, and then the telltale 'tuck-tuck' coming from below a large Crack Willow at the far end of the carr. A fleeting movement, and the bird dashed across the ditch, and hid among the fallen litter of the last strong wind.
The Sun broke through and cast colour and warmth, and before long, the bird was back in the brambles on the narrow strip of bank seperating the ditch from the dench pond, and then - up into the sunlit branches, orange feet clinging to the lichen covered spray. Working its way up the ditch, constantly calling out its position, we followed it as it soaked up the morning air, as if trying to absorb the very colour of the day.
Dropping down into the shadow again, its washed out body was transformed. It seemed more solid. The subtle contrast was heightened now - bold straw supercilium blazed above sepia eyeline, pale edged wing feathers and rich olive brown tail. Its face had such strong features, with such limited palette - quite different to the blended cheeks of the Chiffchaff, and dark - shadow dark. In its element.
Having struggled in hte past to see Dusky warblers - a two second glimpse of one, and a silhouette flying past after a day freezing at a coastal sewage farm - this encounter could not have been more surprising. For an hour and a half, the tucking fiddler sewed a course up and down the bank, catching small insects and spiders amongst the tangle.
It sprang up into the drooping branches of the great willow, and preened - stitching the sunlight into its pale breast, before dropping back down, out of sight. Mark arrived soon after, and after a catchup, I left him waiting for the next flurry of movement. The swans across the field clarioned and the fieldfares whined in the breeze. This was the Summer Taiga drawn to the December fen.
A visit to the Brecks led to the discovery of a huge Goshawk nest - although the mist and greyness made for a pretty dull day out.
It has been really lovely to visit Welney the last few weekends, bittersweet as the lack of visitors which has made the visits so enjoyable, also being a very real threat to the revenue and jobs of those that work on the reserve. There wasn't a breath of wind as Ben and I started our afternoon checking wildfowl from Pymoor northwards. There was a hybrid Lesser Scaup type amongst the diving duck but nothing of more note.
At Welney a Glossy Ibis flew in as we signed in at reception and it shared a field with Cattle Egrets.
The sunset in a blaze on many thousands of wildfowl, it was special.
The discovery of a Dusky Warbler in the Ely10 made for some excitement. A vocal bird but really skulking, affording brief flight views and a few views of all salient features as it moved through gamble tangles and nettle patches. Fortunately it was pretty vocal allowing it's whereabouts to be followed. Hopefully there'll be more chances to see this bird over the coming weeks.
I bumped into Mark Peck in Tescos on Friday night, fortuitously, as during our birding banter in the dairy aisle he said there'd been a Lesser Yellowlegs at Welney during the day!! We decided to do a family visit the following afternoon which went pretty well. The American vagrant had not been seen which led to some pretty focused and intense searching. I did find an unseasonal Greenshank amongst the Black'wits and I had quite a few interesting waders that all revealed themselves to be Ruff. The girls all went back to the visitor centre for coffee and cake and I just kept looking. Walking back from Lyle Hide I heard a Redwing like seep and looked up, I was surprised to see not a Redwing above me but a chunky and well marked Hawfinch flying over - a Fen mega. I was a happy chappy but not perhaps as elated as I should have been as I was still to see a Lesser Yellowlegs in the Ely10, managing to enjoy an April bird on the Bluntisham side of the Washes at Berry Fen and miss it on it's short visits onto the Washes proper.
I returned on Monday to see if I could secure some better views, there were birds everywhere and it was good to catch up with Mark Groom and his son Jasper enjoying the spectacle. A Spotted Redshank was doing what I'd hoped the Yellowlegs would have done and was showing off picking at the water through the wildfowl.
The next day what was surely "our" Yellowlegs turned up at Cley and turned out to be an exceptionally confiding bird. At the end of a very quiet October half term week we took a trip to the coast and I enjoyed some great views of the Yellowlegs. Just a little further down the track an equally confiding male Stonechat was just lovely.
Having been waylaid by the Bushchat I was lucky in having another chance to try Gypsy Lane, I met Mark H at the top of the lane and we picked up where I left off yesterday. We weren't much further than I'd got yesterday and Mark's appointment with the Bushchat was called, he'd not been able to go yesterday. I carried on and reaching some tasty looking sycamores promptly found a sprite. It looked like a Pallas's but I didn't get a clear view of either the rump or central crown stripe. I followed it for a minute or so before it melted away. Mark returned within the hour having seen the chat very well indeed and we continued our methodical work. After a couple of hours working around the corpse and willows we headed out towards the last cover beyond the seawall.
On the bend by a reed fringed slack a muddy coloured warbler flicked through the nettles, it looked good straight away for a Dusky Warbler and we followed and lost it from nettles to bank and then a slightly longer flight view as it crossed a ditch and into the reeds. This was going to be really hard - if only it had called......the phone came out and Mark got Xeno Canto to do the work. A couple of Dusky "thcucks" and then a response - it was a Dusky and calling well whenever prompted with the playback. We were patient but it seemed an impossible task to see the bird in the dense vegetation which we could only view from the bank.
We moved around to view the bushes within the reedbed hoping it'd move to these in time. A few movements were the inevitable Robin and then a full on sparkling lemon and lime Pallas's Warbler hovering and zipping around took our complete attention - a fantastic bird and worthy distraction. We didn't hear or see the Dusky Warbler again and returned to look around the mature wooded fen to the east of the path. The habitat was amazing, we probably shouldn't have been there but at every turn it felt we could find something epic - we didn't, but it was electric birding. When we did return to the path a birder had just seen "the" Pallas's we commented that it had travelled quite a way - he was unaware of the bird out on the marsh and we were only 25ft from where I'd seen my sprite in the morning, I've taken it as confirmation of the first bird. We'd worked the area for almost 7 hrs with clear success, however I wasn't going to finish the day without a Bluetail and there had been 3 around Holme dunes just a few miles up the road.
We were only there for an hour or so but what started with satisfactory views of 2 birds ended with fantastic views of one of them right by the path as we departed. They're just the best - enigmatic, characterful and subtlety exotic. Good enough for the 5yr, Eve, old to draw.
The last I saw in the UK was the stuff of dreams - Rich Baines and I left his house, one of the coastguard cottages on Flamborough Head on a bright, late October dawn, to start a days birding. A Black Redstart flicked off the path outside the house - the radio crackled "you're going to want to see what's in this bag", the mist nets were up in a back garden across the road so we walked over to meet Ian Marshall on the drive, willing for whatever it was to be drawn from the bag to be mega....and it was - a Bluetail in the flesh (and feather) just inches from our noses.
There was time for just another bird before heading home and a quick trip to the wayside at Thornham revealed the 3rd Pallas's Warbler of the day - a very showy bird right by the path in the sueda by the car park. The day drew to a close and the winds were due to swing west for the rest of the month.
The wind had turned Easterly on Friday and bits and bobs had started turning up - the 8 striped sprite, gorgeous Pallas's Warblers had started a flurry and Red Flanked Bluetails having had a bonza breeding season in their westerly frontier, were also arriving. I want to find one of those for myself so opted to start early on Saturday morning on the under watched but briliantly positioned Gypsy Lane between Titchwell and Brancaster. I checked around Titchwell Church at dawn and then started down the lane. I'd been in touch with Ben the day before, he and Rich were heading towards Warham and Stiffkey, I'd commented "enjoy the hoards" a phrase that would haunt me for the rest of the day. I'd slowly walked 100 metres of the lane, I'd forgotten quite how good it looks for autumn migrants and moved very slowly. Just before 8 I got a message from Birdo - was I on my way for the Bushchat?? What The Force!
A quick check of the bird news revealed the startling news that a Rufous-tailed Bushchat had been found just after daybreak at Stiffkey. I decided to stick to plan and keep looking for a Bluetail but with each step I found myself unable to focus and observe, my mind was wandering ceaselessly to whether I could afford to play this cool. Another 10 minutes and I broke, trotted to the car and got myself down to Stiffkey.
It was already bonkers when I arrived, I managed to squeeze myself a parking spot amidst the snaking lines of cars along both sides of the narrow road. Joining the crowd there was an odd scene before us. The tide was very, very high yet the bird had flown from the hedgerow where it had shown well out to a small island of sueda. Opinion was split as to whether it had stayed there or flown further out to the far ridge. Long and short there were plenty of twitchy twitchers assembled but on the edge. Shouty arguments, accusations of stringing and general bad vibes were evident and then the patience broke. 10 then 20 then 30 folk started to edge out along the submerged path desperate to get looking for the chat.
The original patch of sueda looked the only reasonable proposition to me so I decided to grill this from the now emptying bank top. As the tide dropped the birders spread widely across the saltmarsh and out to the furthest ridge, I kept focused on the good looking spot. Something moved flicked up and down again and the birder who'd gone to that patch of sueda's bins went up, stayed up and then he waved his arms. The ensuing scene was carnage - a sopping, sploshing, sliding, jogging beige army honed on the spot from all sides and all distances. It seemed to have dissappeared again, but then a blur of movement, a big cocked tail a top the sueda and jerky movement here, there and gone again. A bit later it sat out for longer, motionless. The crowd had got ridiculous the distancing was non- existent and the sueda was virtually surrounded.
Having seen the bird and with no desire to join the hoard, I decided this was not for me and went for a look at the Pallas's Warblers in the wood. I saw one of these well and drunk it in beneath the oaky canopy. As I left birders were arriving from Yorkshire and the crowd had got even bigger - it made the national news for the wrong reasons with the police threatening social distancing fines. I was due in Cambridge by 1 so slunk off having done little birding, seen a mythical blocker and feeling like I'd let myself down not sticking to the plan. In fact the best bit of the experience was relaying the ridiculous scenes, the wading out, slips and mud baths to Rich, Ben and Jono as I drove home.
Here's Mark Hawkes video of the Bushchat from the next day.
Our Birdo weekender, once again based at Flamborough, started prodigiously. After 12 hrs of following the Lammergier between fields and copses along the Lincolnshire/Cambridgeshire border Mark H finally saw the bird in Cambridgeshire. Ben and I pootled along in the late afternoon on our way North and saw the beast roosting in a roadside tree. It was an awesome sight. A great weekend was immortalised in a little video I put together and on Jono Leadleys @BirdingDad blog
Part of the daily routine now at work is an hour most mornings managing the staggered and distanced arrival and departure of 700 or so kids and adults through the school gates.
As I walked across the playground to open up the gates a Chiffchaff hueeted from the sunsoaked ivy clad ashes that border that side of the school. "Shame it's not a Yellow-brow" I thought. Almost in synchronisitous response the feisty "tzuuuet" call of a Spryte pierced the air, calling a couple of times. I had to get on with the job in hand and unlocked the gates for the afternoon pick up, perhaps the steady flow of folk through the playground encouraged it and the Chiff to move on as I heard nothing from either of them again.
Expectation grew through to the end of the week, the winds were easterly in origin, swirling off from northern Scandanavia and onto Shetland, the Northern Isles were coming alive with Sibes - passerines from Siberia. Thursday evening pub talk focused on what might be, Mark Peck was planning to pull a Bluetail out of the nets at Wicken, I hoped I could wangle a few hours at the coast. In the end I had a full day pass - I was eager to see waves of migrants arriving.
There was a bit of debate about whether Norfolk would be the best place for an intensive days search for migrant birds on the move. Lincolnshire and Suffolk were mooted but our lack of detailed knowledge of the potential sites led us to familiar turf. Mark Hawkes and I arrived dawnish at Wells in a moderate South-Easterly breeze with low cloud and drizzle. It was evident birds were arriving, Song Thrushes ticking almost everywhere, Brambling wheezed and passed over low. We set out slow, seeing birds in most areas we looked. A tit flock in the Dell proved hard to grill- birds appearing a dissappearing quickly. Thrushes rolled over the leaf litter and a Redstart and Lesser Whitethroat occupied the corner birches.
The seemingly resident Red-backed Shrike sat out along the fenceline bushes for a while, but it didn't show again. We continued to check each area thoroughly, a Pied Flycatcher zipped about and a Hawfinch flew over. It was mid morning by the time we reached Lady Anne's Drive and we'd barely seen another birder. I grabbed a coffee and Ben and Rich turned the corner, we compared notes - we were missing sprytes, they'd found 3. It didn't take long to catch up with one though and the next tit flock held one, they tumbled into our laps after that with at least 6 birds west of the drive. We separated out and while enjoying the Cattle Egret flock feeding between the handsome Belted Angus we got a phone call telling us of an Olive-backed Pipit heading our way. We had a good look around where it had dropped in, finding a Spotted Flycatcher for our troubles. A bit later a yell went up telling us of the OBP again, this time overhead, with 2 Meadow Pipits, I saw these but could do nothing with them. This was not to be the last of frustrating pipitry.
We reconvened with Green & Dale on the edge of the bomb crater and headed out onto the dunes. The predicted afternoon wave of arrivals started overhead with Redwings, Larks and Finches pulsing from the sky. A couple of fenceline Whinchat, bushtop Redstarts, flyover Lapland Buntings and an uncooperative Ring Ouzel gave flavour - I was looking for this when I got a shout from the others. I got onto a pipit flying towards me which gave several arresting "tzeeep" calls. We followed it down and moved, with a plan, towards the trees it had landed near, up again and over the dune. Two birders had joined us and were checking "sounds like OBP right" there was some consensus forming. With some height we watched as it flew and landed on a bush. All scopes swung on to it and it looked good, from the front, for an Olive-backed Pipit - orange wash to the chest, strong marks across the breast and a clear white spot and dark spot in the ear coverts. It dropped to the ground and weaved between short tussocks, in this view it all fell apart - the bird had a streaky brown mantle. A Tree Pipit. We were really dissappointed, felt a bit robbed and perhaps a little silly for getting carried away. It wasn't just us though as an OBP was reported in the same area later in the day and there were several reports from the woods during the day.
As we meandered, around a tad forlorn, a Barred Warbler popped up in front of a departing birder. We got some brief but good views as it bombed between bushes, a bit if a beast, all told. We carried on to Gun Hill admiring washed out Chiffs and a luminous young Willow Warbler, a Short-eared Owl rose from a dune hollow and away. In the creek between us and Scolt Head Island a couple of female type Goosander loafed.
Our walk back was speedier than our laboured searching on the way out, it was late and there was not a lot of daylight left. We heard a couple more sprytes in the trees and enjoyed a peachy, newly arrived Brambling.
Nearing the Dell we stopped to investigate a reasonable roost of Song Thrushes in a single tangle over hung by a mid size sycamore, a whirr of movement zipped up into a branch and I whipped my bins on to it to see the lovely eye rings and cutesy open face of Red-breasted Flycatcher. Mark had seen it fly up but not got a view, I called it and it melted away, surely to roost. Aching legs were soothed some by quayside Fish and Chips, Lilt and Vimto. It was a belter of a day all told but no biggie, although we missed Arctic Warbler and a Raddes Warbler seen during the day. The greatest surprise where how few other birders we saw given the weather - 6 aside ourselves. I now run my birding days past my fifteen year old self as a reality check - Red-backed Shrike, Barred Warbler, Red-breasted Flycatcher, 6 Yellow-brows, Lap Bunts, Pied Fly, 6 Redstarts, Hawfinch, Cattle Egret, Great White Egret, Short-eared Owl and lots of birds on the move - I could barely dream of days like that back in 1990.
When I first saw this illustration, many years ago, I fell in love with the idea of Skuas flying over Ely. Graham Easy's pen work belies a passion for unlocking the secrets of overland Skua passage over Cambridgeshire. His observations have led to the understanding that strong autumnal North Westerly winds, coupled with squally showers and rain can encourage Skuas to build in numbers in the Wash and continue their passage, not along the coast as is the norm but within eyesight, inland along the courses of the Rivers Ouse and Nene before heading onwards towards the River Severn and out into the Atlantic via the Bristol Channel. This passage is likely to occur in fine weather too but the Skuas can fly high, beyond ready detection.
A leviathon of storming norwesters crashed across East Anglia on Friday. While I was sat at work Mark Hawkes was reporting Petrels and Skuas in horizontal rain and a gargantuan swell on 70mph winds at Sheringham. News was building of hundreds of Skuas heading inland at Lynn Point at the mouth of the Ouse where it flows into The Wash.
It is rare for the best conditions to look for skuas to occur, even rarer to occur on a weekend and over the years I have spent too many days frustrated and envious at work as others have enjoyed inland skua passage, mostly in the far north of Cambridgeshire, on the county border at Foul Anchor on the tidal Nene. I have also spent many hours watching the skies for skuas in Nor Westers in sub-optimal conditions, spurred on by hope. This has not been without reward and a lone Bonxie on flood water at Fidwell Fen in just the right conditions many years ago fanned the flames, a couple more Bonxies heading inland at Foul Anchor the day after a large movement suggested you might just see something move against blue skies. Another blustery but skualess day saw a fantastically scallop backed young Roseate Tern traverse the Norfolk and Lincolnshire vista in front of me and Ben.
I sent a miserly whatsapp to the Birdo group from the confines of my desk - "There will have been Skuas over Ely this morning #:0( " and I'm sure there was. By 4 o'clock I was free and gazing skyward from my favourite vantage point, a couple of minutes from home, at Quanea Drove. This is a huge west facing vista tracking upstream (the flightpath of a skua) the silvery thread of the River Great Ouse from Queen Adelaide through to Stretham with the monolithic cathedral perched atop the shallow whaleback of the Isle of Ely.
It was blowing an absute hooley and I decided not to set up my scope afeared that it should blow over in a gust, 70mph had been recorded on the coast. Bouyed by the news of Skuas over Thetford during the afternoon and continuing inland movement at Lynn Point, I began my watch from the shelter and comfort of the car. It takes a while to get your eye in to a skywatch, getting a sense of the light and distances is all part of the fun. There were some large gulls moving upriver and lots of Rooks, Jackdaws and Pigeons to get used to, Cormorants and Herons spiced things up a little but it was an hour or so in that saw a small group of circling Black-headed Gulls joined by the torpedo bodied, silver winged shapes of terns. 5 Sandwich Terns - only my second sighting in the Ely10 and certainly a success in my searches as they spiralled higher pushed away from the river and off, with the wind, towards Soham and Newmarket beyond. With a crick in the neck and a sore back from twisting my frame I took a short break to get a few bits (ok, beer) from Tescos. Having stretched out the cramp I was ready to do the hour or so till dusk. The sky had cleared, I was tempted to call it a day. To keep me going I kept recalling hundreds of spoon tailed Pomarine Skuas flying in groups of tens, westwards, over Varanger in Norway in clear skies and little wind one spring and the 2 pale phase Arctic Skuas winging their way low over the Biebrza Marshes, travelling to and from who knows where, in Poland on a beautiful still May evening, while I waited for the jack in a box lek of Great Snipe to begin. Don't give up, Skuas don't always need rain to pass overland within sight.
I didn't give up and with the sun lowering a svelte dark bird appeared to the south of the cathedral, it banked to circle and it's form became clear, an Arctic Skua - little plumage but all jizz, as I watched another appeared beneath it, towering upward like dark lights being switched on another appeared and another. In total 12 skuas kettled and span around each other, not unlike the Sandwich Terns had done earlier. I'd seen flocks of resting skuas take to the wing and do this offshore before, heading up high and ready to move. As the wind took them into the glare of golden clouds reflecting the dropping sun each blinked away out of sight - dissappearing as suddenly as they had appeared, magical.
Next day the winds continued, it was overcast and drizzly - it was back to form, 4 hours at Foul Anchor yielding nothing for Ben and I. Indeed there was little skua movement anywhere adding another myth to the pile - skuas usually move on the first day of the right conditions.
We popped into Welney on the way back - 47 of the 60+ Cranes were on Lady Fen and on the observatory pool 7 Cattle Egrets roosted with a lone Great White beyond - even 10 years ago it would be hard to consider this scene likely.
A few days of easterly airflow preceeded a trip to the coast where we met up
with Rich Baines and Jo Ruth for a family catch up. Wells was a good
choice with a bracing walk, beach for the kids, a cafe and a bit of passive
birding to enjoy. Just around The Dell a young Red-backed Shrike, all
rich browns and gingers was hawking beetles from the field edge and fence
line. Although close, everytime I tried to film it the reeds just got in
the way - I gave it up as a bad job.
There was general excitement as we got regular updates from Jono about the
Humpback Whales he was watching off the Great Cape, Flamborough Head - Rich's
company Yorkshire Coast Nature pioneering the increasingly popular Whale
watching trips off the Yorkshire coast.
On the beach we had a ludicrously speculative gaze at the sea and
pottered. Me and Rich gave ourselves quarter of an hour to find the
Red-breasted Flycatcher which we did, pretty pronto, and enjoyed some good
views.
Ice Creams and play parks beckoned, I picked up the original "Firsts for
Britain" Poyser - for a price and checked the Starlings optomistically.
We ambled back down the seawall having had a very relaxed non-birding, birdy
day. We'd made it easy on ourselves.
So I went and spoilt it a bit. After we'd said bye to Rich and Jo I left
the family to get fish and chips and twitched down to Warham Greens where I
just about saw the Brown Shrike, from below, in silhoutte roosting up in the
centre of a hawthorn and a much better Pied Flycatcher flicking down the lane
in the gathering gloom.
