Sunday, 19 March 2017

Winter highlights: part II

Spring migrants continue to trickle in and while it's not quite a flood, it's a reasonably safe call to declare winter as being over. A few more highlights to look back on then:
Short-eared Owl on Portland - one of a number of wintering birds
This one was flying up the west cliffs
Peregrine, also on Portland
Peregrine
Marsh Harriers have been entertaining visitors to Radipole Lake in Weymouth
A Great Grey Shrike spent much of the winter in Wareham Forest
A late winter arrival was this Snow Bunting on Studland Beach
Great Spotted Woodpecker, Arne
Sika Deer at Arne
Male Siskin at Arne
Female Siskin, Arne
Spoonbills - 5 of 7 at Arne yesterday
And to close, as if to personally declare winter over, the first Wheatear of the year, on Studland beach last weekend.

Sunday, 12 March 2017

Winter highlights: the waterbirds

As the early spring migrants start to trickle in, it's time to look back at a few highlights of the winter. First up, some waterbirds and waders from around Dorset over the last few weeks.
Purple Sandpiper, Shell Bay Ferry Terminal
One of two Purple Sandpiper feeding on the ferry slipway at Studland yesterday
An engaging species to watch up close as it dodges the incoming waves
Much earlier in the winter a flock of Goosander spent some time fishing close in to Hamm Beach in Portland Harbour
Nine birds in the flock the day I was there
Red-breasted Merganser, also in Portland Harbour
Male Red-breasted Merganser
Also that day a trio of Pale-bellied Brent Geese were with their Dark-bellied cousins at Ferrybridge
Quite easy to pick out among the Dark-bellied Brents
Closer to home a Black Brant (far right) was at Middlebere with the Dark-bellied Brent flock
Again, easy to pick out when on its own; not so easy in with a flock of several hundred birds

Two of the eleven Barnacle Geese which spent much of the winter at Swineham
This Black-necked Grebe was in Shell Bay earlier in the winter...
...same species, same place, just a few weeks later


Sanderling dwarfed by a wave about to break on Studland beach
Purple Sandpiper

Monday, 6 March 2017

Pine Bunting: the rematch

I generally take a 'once bitten, twice shy' approach to twitching distant rarities, so having been in the right place at the wrong time on a trip to Yorkshire for a Pine Bunting in January, I had not intended to go back. Avid readers with long memories may recall that I spent several hours looking into a weedy field, one of the bird's two favoured haunts, before I moved to a muddy field, the second of its favoured haunts, at which point it appeared back in the weedy field!

Despite pager reports to the contrary, it was not seen again that day suggesting that a bit of wishful thinking may have been involved in some sightings, and that the ease of seeing the bird could not necessarily be judged by the regularity of reports on the information services. As February progressed, however, reports of the bird appeared to become more regular, and good photographs appearing online suggested that it was showing much more frequently and reliably than on my first visit.

So when a text arrived late in the month from fellow father of two Paul Welling, sounding me out about sharing a lift to Yorkshire, I started to reconsider. Half a plan to go the weekend before last never came to fruition due to ill health on my part, but as last weekend approached and reports of the bird's presence continued to pop up with reassuring regularity, we resolved to go on Sunday.
We arrived at Dunnington on the outskirts of York early on Sunday morning. The site directions for the bird suggested  that it might be in a different field to the one I became sick of the sight of that afternoon in January, but on arrival it was slightly depressing to realise that we would be looking at exactly the same field, just from the opposite end! Worse, we would now be looking into the rising sun, at least until the forecast rain set in mid-morning...

Undaunted, we joined three other birders who were already on site, set up our scopes and kept an eye on a seeded patch of bare earth where the Bunting had allegedly been showing in recent days. After not many minutes one of the birders immediately to my left picked up the Pine Bunting as it dropped from the hedge to feed on the ground, but before we could get onto it, it flew back into the hedge. Convinced it would only be a matter of time before it returned, we stayed fixed to the spot, eyes glued to the bare patch.

Over the next hour or so the crowd grew to about 30 people, scopes trained on the field and its surrounding hedgerows. As on my previous visit, Yellowhammers, Bramblings, Reed Buntings, Corn Bunting and Tree Sparrows came and went but no Pine Bunting. After a couple more hours, the landowner arrived, opened the gate and gave birders permission to walk down one edge of the weedy field, on the opposite side to the hedgerow in which the birds were perching between feeding forays. This afforded a much better view of the hedgerow, and when we eventually joined others at the edge of the field, while we still couldn't see the Pine Bunting, there were at least more birds on view for us to grill in the hope of picking it out. 
While there was still a whole afternoon of daylight left, we had not envisaged sticking it out until dark, assuming that if the bird was present we would see it within a couple of hours. It turned out that the half-dozen reports from the previous day were not evidence that the bird was frequently on view as we had assumed, but a pretty accurate record of the entirety of its appearances that day!
Although we hadn't explicitly discussed a deadline after which to head south, if we were to get back in time to gather the sand, soda ash, limestone, furnace and glass-blower necessary to fashion a couple of new brownie-point jars for our return home, we would really need to be on the road by noon. With an hour to go to this notional cut-off point there was still no sign, and as the heavens opened, the crowd had dwindled to just five of us. As the clock ticked, and fewer and fewer eyes searched for the bird, I was reminded of the wisdom of the 'once bitten, twice shy' policy.

Just when it looked like this Bunting twitch was going a bit Cretzschmar's, I forlornly scanned the tops of some small trees in the hedgerow opposite and saw the unmistakable face pattern of a male Pine Bunting. No sooner than I had called it, it took off and the best I could do get others onto it was to urge them to follow the bird in flight. Those who did said that they couldn't see it well enough to identify, but they were able to confirm that the flying bird had unfortunately turned and flown away from us. And so the nightmare scenario for any carload of twitchers had unfolded: I had seen the bird but my travelling companion hadn't.

I discussed with Paul whether I should check out the Pine Bunting's other favourite haunt while he continued to stake out the weedy field. I was convinced that now that I had seen it, with the pressure off I would be able to pick it up again more readily - one of the birding equivalents of sod's law. But Paul persuaded me to stay put - a good call as not many minutes later, I found the Pine Bunting again in the outer branches of a large oak tree which sat prominently in the hedgerow, conveniently perched between two Yellowhammers. This time it stayed put long enough for all five of us to get telescopes onto it and enjoy excellent views. I even had time to fiddle with my camera's exposure and grab a few record shots.

Over the next hour the Pine Bunting dropped down to feed in the field, perching up in the hedgerow on and off as a steady stream of birders who had been on site earlier returned, having retraced their steps up the motorway network as news of our sightings reached them. After a few more views and pictures we were heading south before 'high noon'. A triumphant rematch, and another fun day out with a fellow dad.

Monday, 27 February 2017

Icelandic banker

Our recent half-term whistle stop tour of Cornwall saw me squeeze in some birding between visiting my god-daughter in Bodmin and friends in Falmouth, admiring the excellent National Maritime Museum at the latter among various other sights the county has to offer. One of the highlights was checking out a huge flock of gulls following the tractors of Polgigga as they made busy in the potato fields. Up to four Iceland Gulls had been reported in the area so I thought it would be a banker, but while I only caught up with one, at least it treated me to a close fly-past.
Iceland Gull at Arden-Sawah near Polgigga
I think a 2nd winter bird
Flying right overhead - note pale iris
Here with one of the tractors
It wasn't all as successful though. While at Bodmin, I nipped out to Dozmary Pool to see what I thought would be another banker - the long-staying, oft-returning drake Lesser Scaup. As you can see from the picture below, I couldn't see the pool, let alone the Lesser Scaup. A two hour wait by a hedge in the Nanjizal Valley looking for a Little Bunting was similarly unsuccessful, though at least there was no fog. Passing Choughs, a stunning male Hen Harrier and my first butterfly of 2017 - a Red Admiral - kept me entertained as I waited.
The sweeping vista of, er, fog at Dozmary Pool
Chough - one of a pair over Nanjizal
A male Hen Harrier hammered through Nanjizal
As is often the case it ploughed on without looking back
Red Admiral at Nanjizal
A bit of a rematch with another banker, the Hudsonian Whimbrel at Boat Cove, was successful, though it wasn't as close as on my visit this time last year. A few other waders were on the beach along with the mobile Whimbrel - soon to be downgraded from full species status as a result of changes to the British list.
Hudsonian Whimbrel at Boat Cove
Revealing the diagnostic all dark rump in flight
Grey Plover at Boat Cove
Curlew at Boat Cove
A couple of distant Red-throated Divers off Boat Cove
On the way home, after a bit of luck seeing an American Wigeon at Exminster without too much searching, there was just to time to take a short detour to look for a Little Bunting near Axminster. A couple of locals were looking for the Bunting when I arrived, and although it had been seen not long before, tales of them multiple dipping on this elusive bird did not leave me feeling very hopeful. The light was also fading, but with the rest of the family playing games on a variety of mobile devices in the car, I thought I would give it the last hour of daylight. After just half of this, a flock of previously unseen Reed Buntings flew up from the long grass, and as they alighted in the trees around me, one gave the distinctive ticking call of a Little Bunting. While it didn't exactly pose for a photo, I managed a couple of shots of it partially obscured by vegetation to cap off a good trip.
Little Bunting, Trinity Hill LNR near Axminster
It would not sit out in the open for me in a couple of brief views
This Reed Bunting was more obliging