Phalarope

I didn't manage to get back to Welney, but I worked up a watercolour of the Phalarope from sketches done on Saturday. This last few days have thrown up some very big birds all over the country, but sometimes the littlest can be worth a look too. 

Bee is for orchid

Nature has a way of turning up where you least expect it. On the north western limits of Ely, just inside the enveloping A10, a stretch of grassland to rival that on any local nature reserve is alive with incredible lilac bees, clutching fresh green stems in groups of four or five, quiet in the cool evening shade. The meadow patches are nestled among small stands of low bushes and young trees, and Blackcaps and Wrens sing an evensong. One voice stands out for it's strangeness. It starts with a couple of chiff-chaff notes before descending into the stream of Willow Warbler. I glimpse the singer briefly- just it's head, and its bold supercilium and pale cheeks show that this bird has learned a new introduction to its verse. I can't help feeling that the lack of other Willow Warblers in the area this season have led this lone warbler to adapt like a backpacker studiously picking up useful phrases of the local language.

Welney Whirligig.

Phalaropes are the oddballs of the wader world. They spin and poke across the shallow scrape like no other waterbird. Chased by Avocets, young Redshanks and a Godwit, this male never stopped moving - a tiny speck on the great flatland, dwarved by all the other birds present. Its lithe neck and golden streaked back twist and turn so quickly that sketching it was a difficult task, and my first attempts have fallen short of capturing the rapid movement if not the form. Hopefully it will hang around long enough to give up the secret of its twitchy motion.

Old Blue Eyes and the Red Neck

A freshly fledged Jackdaw allowed a close approach between it's infant flights.  This photo was taken with the phone camera.  I never knew young Jackdaws had blue eyes.  Out on the Washes a Red-necked Phalarope was found and was showing from Grose Hide later in the day, a Honey Buzzard was also reported.  I couldn't get to see it but hope it looked something like this - another from the 2012 Arctic trip.

Crossword clue hits back

I was chatting with Rich the other day about the idea of going to southern Africa at some stage, and I said that I'd only consider wandering around the Veldt if I could have a gun to scare off all those big dangerous animals. And that's the beauty of Britain- there's nothing here to be afraid of- nothing that will kill and eat you. There's no way your body will be found half dismembered up a tree with bite marks on your skull.

So, on Sunday evening I found myself on Welney bank with Dunc, taking in the night atmosphere, quietly listening to a Corn Crake out on the wash, at ease in the enveloping darkness. Our eyes didn't strain to resolve the shadows; we were content just to soak up the aural landscape that we were in the middle of- unseen amongst the birds that,by day, would be too wary to accept our presence as the dominant species.

Further along the bank the long grass rustled- a deer probably, and in a moment it's going to get a shock as it picks up our scent.

It's still moving- it's... getting closer, and now I don't think it's a deer any more- this is no high stepping agile long-legged herbivore, eager not to be heard-a fox maybe! Surely a fox is too well equipped with keen sight not to have seen us in the near-blackness, especially as we must have been silhouetted against the last remant of light. 

I can see something now... surely not.. it's... still... coming... straight... towards... us! There is a point in all good horror films where the victims finally realise they've become the target. The shark or alien, or axe-wielding maniac is on course, and getting faster- but this is England- what can possibly happen.

Whatever was going to happen was now going to happen very shortly. A black wake of parting vegetation was just about visible- like the path of a torpedo- a torpedo heading straight amidships- my amidships. The rustle had now grown to a seething roar as whatever it was homed in- and at that point all sorts of things happened in my head.

The first emotion that suddenly replaced the slight puzzlement that I had been experiencing when the Thing was still distant, was one of disgust, aimed squarely at Dunc. It was triggered by the realisation that I was now being used as a human shield- Duncs trembling hand clutching my arm as he cowered behind me. Cowardice in the face of the enemy I call it- not  at all British.

Disgust turned to despair almost before I realised how ashamed with him I was - despair at the sudden awareness that now my own escape route was cut off now that Dunc was in the way. Worse than that there was a gate blocking further retreat. Disbelief unleashed histrionic giggling as neither of us could come to terms with the terrible fate that approached - the brain's refusal to accept this improbable situation despite the facts before us - causing internal combustion of grey matter as logic cells imploded.

The Beast was now only twenty feet away and not stopping. My conscious mind was now useless- it had resigned and gone home, leaving only one thing left. Instinct.

Without really being aware of what i was doing, my hands reached down to my coat pockets, and my arms stiffened.

Rule 1 when confronting danger- Make yourself big.

My arms spread out and my jacket was now the tail of a Peacock. 

This did not work.

It clearly couldn't see me.

I ka-kawed.

I ka-kawed like a fool.

I even flapped my arms.

What on earth was I doing.  

Finally the Beast stopped- just ten feet away. It stopped but it didn't retreat. We'd stood firm- held our ground- called its' bluff. Surely we had won- or at least drawn. This was the end of the film- there can't be a final twist- no final lunge just when you thought you were safe! Christ alive let this end. 

The dark shape just sat there- sizing us up.

If only I could see more clearly.

A beam of light suddenly appeared over my shoulder and pointed along the bank. 

Dunc's torch.

Where was that five minutes ago??!!

The Badger- at last aware of our presence turned and bolted.

It's all very well seeing them on Springwatch- but up close they certainly scare the Four letters, something, something, i, something out of you.

And we all laughed and vowed never to speak of this again.Ever.

Ten Badgers period?

We- myself and Rich- were up early this morning after clearing a couple of rides in the garden yesterday. The nets were unfurled just after dawn, and it didn't take long before a mixed bag-well- bags, of garden bird was being processed. Rich's main aim was just to see where the best places to put the nets were, and both nets proved successful at first, with one near a bush full of feeders, and another guarding the approaches at the corner of the studio. The Sun soon began to glare, and in the slight breeze the nets began to shimmer as light spattered along their length, and we began to catch fewer and fewer birds.

Even this quick couple of hours revealed interesting data however- two of the Great Tits pulled from the net were birds previously ringed. The first one was one that we caught last summer when Gary, Lou and Ian came round, but it was the second bird that was more impressive. In December 2012 Rich and Helen visited and we put some nets up in the garden for the first time. One of the first birds caught and processed was Y811959- a young male Great Tit, and it was this bird we caught this morning, three and a half years later. It's always amazing to recover birds that have been ringed in far off places- proof of incredible endeavour that belies the fragile form- but it's just as satisfying to find out that my own garden's birds have flourished and continue to thrive in the long term, not just for a short stint- Stint! Temminck's Stint, of course!

Sounds like a dozen less two with ferocious mustelids, for a short while

In preparation for the next Ely birders pub night I devised my own cryptic clue to the species I twitched down at the Cam Washes this afternoon.  I don't think it's bad for a first attempt.  The pictures below should point you in the right direction if you haven't got it yet, although they're probably just as cryptic as identification shots.  Hopefully you get the gist.

 



 

Indeed there were two stopping off at the Washes on their journey northwards which may end way beyond the Arctic circle.  A deliberate link purely to allow the use of this picture of a displaying bird we found on a frozen, roadside lake edge in far NE Norway, in June 3 years ago.

 

 



While at the Cam Washes I was pretty disappointed to see that others had chosen to leave the riverside path and make their way closer to the birds into, what appears to be, good habitat for lowland breeding waders such as Snipe, Redshank and Oystercatcher (all of which were present).  I hope it is clear from the picture that this is not a good choice of observation point and this is compounded by the observers standing a moderate distance apart.  I'm sure we've all made mistakes like this in the past unwittingly but at this time of year we all need to be mindful of the potential impact of our birding activity.

 

 

Tansytastic

Not a bird but very much an Ely10 story, Tansy Beetle is hopefully going to make a successful return to the Fen.

 

 

Last year I read an article about the re-introduction of Tansy Beetle to Wicken Fen and the recent re-discovery of them at Woodwalton Fen.

 

https://www.buglife.org.uk/news-%26-events/news/tansy-beetle-reintroduced-to-wicken-fen-after-32-year-absence

 

https://www.buglife.org.uk/news-%26-events/news/critically-endangered-tansy-beetle-rediscovered-at-woodwalton-fen-nnr-after-a-40

 

 

I'd never heard of them until then and, aside from the Fenland context, what caught my attention was that their exceptionally limited UK range is along the river banks of my youth just south of York. 

 

http://www.northyorks.gov.uk/media/21730/Tansy-Beetle-information-poster/pdf/Tansy_Beetle_information_poster.pdf



So during a visit to my parents earlier this week, armed with some excellent local info from Jono Leadley, I decided to take a stroll down the village to the river and have a look for them.  There were several patches of Tansy to look through and each held plenty of these iridescent Beetles.  The macro on the snappy Lumix proved to be up to the job and it was great fun watching these green gems go about their business.  Definitely worth looking for at Wicken if you see a patch of Tansy, I guess though that the National Trust may well have managed the re-introduction to build a population well away from the public eye which they may then use to populate other suitable areas of the site.



Dare to dream (up the Villa!)

This morning I woke up after having a birdwatching dream. I often have dreams filled with birds- sometimes they are bizarrely fanciful, with fields full of hundreds of different species that no matter how hard I try I can't keep them all, and have to pick my favourites from among the throng. They always let me catch them, and I always have to put some back as new and "better" birds are encountered.

Sometimes just one bird is dreamed, and I enter its world- a world that is unfamiliar and yet familiar at the same time; places I know suddenly take on different characteristics and geographical connections that I accept blithely as absolute truth until waking.

This morning I remembered a real place- one that exists, and one that could well hold the birds in the dream. A muddy scrape was alive with five or six Little Gulls and a crowd of Sandwich Terns. This was no exotic scene, no fantastic bird- not even a surreal adventure. Just a normal birding encounter, one that could happen in the conscious world, and one which I thought......no chance- it could not possibly....

I picked up my scope and sketch pad and drove down to the boathouse scrape hoping for the kind of occurrence that sensible people might call coincidence, and dreamers might call prescience.

Well, there were some gulls, with dark hoods- but they were Blackheads not Little Gulls, and the only sign of a sandwich was the old wrapper in the vans footwell.

It turns out I am not psychic.

3-2, Benteke scores in the 83rd minute.

Little Bit More....

I've never seen a Little Bittern in the UK so I was very tempted to take a visit to Lakenheath Fen just a Cranes stride or two out of the Ely10.  I had spoken to Ben yesterday and knew it was likely to be a long game but decided when the alarm went off at 4 this morning that it would be a chance worth pushing myself out of bed for.  I took my bike to increase my time in situ as I only had a few hours of the early morning free.  I freewheeled past booming Bitterns and reeling Grasshopper Warblers, remembering the many hours I have spent over the years amidst these rattling poplar plantations awash with memories of fluting Oriole song, alas no more I fear.  A new sound however in this corner of olde England and one that may become more familiar over the next 25 years, the bark of a Little Bittern punctuating through the fenland warbler song.  I managed to capture some on my phone.



After a pleasant 3hr vigil that I guess was more akin to fishing or possibly monastic retreat than birding, a verb which has a vibrancy that suggests action and driving purpose, I did see the diminutive Bittern fly across the small channel and even saw it for a second or three sat in the reeds before it dropped down into the foliage to continue it's territorial proclamations.  I have seen Little Bitterns better, much better in fact, this picture taken with one hand while the other held this beauty caught during a ringing session in Israel a decade ago.

 

 

Equally exciting was a re-discovery on the way home from Lakenheath and back within the Ely10.  I decided to have a look at an old farmhouse and yard where Tree Sparrows had bred.  I don't think that I'd looked there for 5 years so was expecting to be disappointed.  I was greeted by a very healthy amount of Tree Sparrow chirruping and at least 6 birds including at least 2 birds going in and out of nest holes.  My heart was cheered.

 



 



Further cheer was provided with ploverly shenanigans at the puddle along Queen Adelaide Way where a smart male Little Ringed Plover displayed heroically to the "resident" female.  A second bird appeared which I think is maybe a first year male and our male chased him off but once at the edge of the territory they started feeding around each other, a case of keeping your enemies close I guess unless the intruder is a very well marked female in which case our handsome fella is a cad.

 our handsome fella

 

HF on the left with the "resident" female

 

HF on the right with intruder - 1st yr male?? on the left

 

 

 



Little Bit of twitching

Lakenheath Fen is a vast network of reedbeds and pools, and in the last few years it has attracted some real european reedbed specialists. Some announce their presence with great vigour, calling loudly or flying overhead skillfully catching insects, but the latest foreign visitor is a skulker– a gruff-voiced bird that is doing its best not to be there at all. It doesn’t even cause the reeds to move as it works it’s way through the dense phragmites forest. In over two hours I saw it once– for three seconds as it flew to a new clump of cover. The only way you could tell it was there was its constant calling, like a small terrier clearing its throat ,repeatedly trying to dislodge an irritating hair. A bizarre effect of it's “song” was to make the bird seem further away than it was. When I first arrived I could have sworn it was calling from across a fairly big pool, about a hundred metres away, whereas in reality it was no more than twenty feet from where I stood. What advantage this voice throwing gives the Little Bittern is anybody’s guess.  

Meanwhile the dry straw-stems frothed with activity. Reed Warblers emerged and disappeared, confronting rivals and snapping their bills, catching small flies and churring contentedly. On the drier banks Whitethroats scattered their discordant song, leaping into the air only to float down further along in a joyful warbling arc- begging for the attention that the Bittern was ungratefully receiving.

Owl Stretching Time

I've been busy this week painting a Barn Owl that's been perched unfinished on a canvas for the last couple of years. A friend of mine saw it and said she'd like it if I ever got round to completing it, and now the weather has turned nasty and I've got space in the studio, the last few days have seen a bit of progress. It's been hard work to get the right shape, as the painting started with a simple idea that was born from imagination rather than any actual sketches or proper reference. The proportions were all wrong, but there was something about the eyes that pleased me, and I felt it was important to keep the facial expression. As I shaped the bird with successive layers of acrylic, the picture got better- then worse and - hopefully better again, as each element had an effect on it's surroundings. Even very subtle changes had drastic consequences on the form as a whole, and at times it's felt like cat- herding, once one's in place, another runs off and has to be recaptured. Hopefully all the cats are in the box now, but I'm going to have to keep my eye on it for a few days to make sure they don't escape.

Wildrace

The Ely Wildspace Bird Race was blessed with some lovely bright weather and 4 teams headed out to see what they could see over the next three and a half hours.  Collectively there was over 70 species seen with highlights of a Red Kite (the first recorded on a birdrace), Grey Wagtail, Cetti's Warblers, close encounters with Marsh Harriers, Turtle Doves, Buzzards galore, Barn Owl, Little Egret and Little Ringed Plover.  Either side of the race the wader puddle produced Oystercatcher, Common Sandpiper and a preening Lapwing which all allowed me to keep working out the best combinations for the new digiscoping set up. 

 

Common Sandpiper have been easy to pick up this spring on the puddle

 

 

 

A pair of Oystercatcher frequented the river this morning

 

 

A male Reed Bunting sings his head off at the Water Meadows

 

 

A video grab of Bullfinch collecting nest material

 

 

Green Plover - Lovely

 

 

 

 

Birdrace at Roswell Pits

Our yearly birdrace around Roswell Pits is coming up on Sunday, and as usual we don't know quite what we will come across- but here's a small selection of paintings I've done over the past few years that have been inspired by the pits and watermeadows of Springs' gone by.

Everyone's welcome to join us as we stroll around for a few hours- it's about getting to know the area more than anything, so if you've never been, meet us at the top of Kiln Lane, near the EA building at 7:15am for some pleasant company and interesting birdlife.

 

Nice Tri

I have a vain tendency.

 

When it is suggested that I'd not been interested in, or quite in shape to meet, physical challenges my friends or family are putting themselves through I casually offer to join them.  As a result I have found myself cycling from Lands End to Ely, discovering a true love of  playing football, finding I can run 10K faster than my sibling - all very good and positive (save the sibling rivalry).  Now I have placed myself  "in training", with a fortnight lead up to a cross country Tri-athlon. Fool.

 

Or maybe not.  On Sunday I woke early and was out on a 30km bike ride across the fens to the south of Ely before 6.30, I was escorted along the river bank, wind in my hair, by 3 or more different Barn Owls.  Egrets and noisy Oystercatchers flew up and down the Great Ouse and heading across the fields Marsh Harrier beat their way to forage the ditches and headlands while Buzzards mewed territorially.  Into the old fen and reedbeds I diverted off road amidst rattles, explosions, melodic meanderings and arpeggios of birdsong.  Cetti's Warblers abounded and Lesser Whitethroat and Willow Warbler were sentinel.  Garden Warbler, Blackcap, Reed and Sedge Warbler created an aural backwash but no purr of the Dove was heard.  Later a Turtle Dove did parachute down in display into the Hawthorn snow and a Bearded Tit pinged out in the Phragmites. What blissful jungle this was and a Bittern boomed in agreement. Further out into the fen flooded pools held Gulls and Grebes, this little blighter was beautiful through the bins and a snapped shot shouldn't be too much of an identification challenge .

 

 

 

A Roe buck was pretty nonchalant as I rode past and along the lodeside where a pair of Whooper Swans, fully winged, unrung but seemingly feral, appeared to be on territory. 

 

 

 

 

 

A male Peregrine circling over farmland on the return leg continues to suggest we should be checking all towers and pylons in the vicinity, I did spend an hour at the Cathedral later in the day to no avail. So my training bike ride turned into a pretty fruitful early morning birding trip. On my return to Stuntney Heights I did manage to complete a 6K run on wobbly legs but complete it I did...now there's just an open water swim to factor in to the mix and I'll be half way ready.