Showing posts with label Crested Tit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crested Tit. Show all posts

Tuesday, 8 May 2018

Late postcards

Been su-per busy lately, so much so that this cob-webbed corner of the internet has been even more neglected than usual, and I haven't even finished with the highlights of our Easter holiday in France. This will probably be the last late postcard from Brittany, so I will finish where I began, pondering the mysteries of how mega-fussy, range restricted, habitat-specialist species in Britain can be as common as caca on the near continent. First up, the Crested Tit: if you want to see this in Britain and you're not in pristine Caledonian Pine Forest, forget it; in France, by contrast, pick a park, any park...
Crested Tit, Site des mégalithes de Locmariaquer, Brittany
A pair were being very vocal around the stunning ancient monuments at Locmariaquer
A very perky individual
Serin has often been predicted as a future British coloniser but, apart from some sporadic breeding attempts, it hasn't really happened yet. The one pictured below was just outside our caravan. Pictured below that, the Short-toed Treecreeper breeds in France and the Channel Islands but is only recorded as a rare vagrant in Britain. It was good to have the opportunity to study the subtle differences in plumage and song compared to our Common Treecreeper.
Just to clarify, this Serin does not have a Bishop's hat as part of the plumage, it's a bud on the tree.
Short-toed Treecreeper
Short-toed Treecreeper
Next up is the Firecrest - common enough on these shores but ridiculously so in Brittany, there seemed to be one singing in every suitable patch of habitat, and a few in unsuitable ones. Great to see so many so well, with a lot of crest-raising action to observe in the process as they staked out territories.
Firecrest
Firecrest
Firecrest
So an enjoyable trip with a bit of variety, natural and human history, some familiar and some less familiar wildlife, a few half-decent opportunities to get out with the camera, and quality time with the family. All a good holiday should be.
The famous Carnac Stones - one of the many archaeological treasures of Brittany
Stonechat doing what it says on the tin among the Carnac stones
Stonechat at Suscinio
I call this one 'Stonechateau' - Stonechat in front of the fairy tale castle as Suscinio
Male Linnet
My patient sons at Carnac Plage

Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Gull of Kintyre

By last weekend I had pretty much given up hope of adding a long-staying American Coot, which turned up in Scotland in January, to my British list. My network of birding chums is not extensive and those within it had either been already or could not be persuaded to go. Fortunately, I get to benefit vicariously from my friend Steve Smith's excellent network, and was able to plug into it when he tipped me off that there might be space in a car going from Bristol, targeting an American Herring Gull on the Mull of Kintyre (to give precise co-ordinates, that's at the bottom left hand corner of Scotland) en route to the American Coot at Loch Flemington (not far off the top right).
American Coot, Loch Flemington: differentiated from our own Coot by the deep red spot at the top of the shield, the dark band near the tip of the bill, and white edges to the undertail coverts which are just visible in this shot.
Fluid plans eventually solidified during the week so that the team for the weekend was: entomologist Dave Gibbs, water industry executive Andy Mears, and audio equipment entrepreneur Chris Gooddie, known to the more well-read among you as author of the Pitta-pursuit chronicle, The Jewel Hunter. With me the local government officer from the planning department in tow, if anyone had been minded to commission an Environmental Impact Assessment of constructing a new main sewer on invertebrate life, and put it on an audio-book to be listened to in glorious surround sound, the perfect team to do it would have been right there in that car.
We stayed in the car at Loch Flemington hoping the American Coot would come closer but it remained quite wary. Many twitchers adopted a 'must I?' approach to seeing this bird. Well I thought it was under-rated by the reluctant listers who turned their noses up but ticked it anyway. I certainly wouldn't complain if I found one at Swineham!
I saw an American Herring Gull on Lewis in 2004, but was keen to see another, and it was a new bird for the other three. American Coot was also a tick for Andy, and the others were happy to go and see it despite the long distance between the two birds.
The American Coot enjoys a fat cigar. I was tempted to join it after such a successful twitch.
So the plan for the weekend formed thusly: leave Friday night, arrive at Campbeltown at first light, tick the American Herring Gull early doors, head off to Inverness later that morning, and have the other rare Yank in the bag by mid afternoon. Then bed down somewhere comfortable and see a few Scottish specialities before heading south on Sunday lunchtime. An ambitious plan requiring a fair bit of luck, but that's almost exactly how it panned out, the only departure from it being a bonus excursion on Saturday evening to admire seaduck and divers as the sun set on Burghead Bay.
The local Moorhens snaffled up the offerings of food so rudely spurned by the American Coot. 
The first step in the plan - arriving for first light - almost fell foul of my ancient Satnav as it doesn't recognise roadworks or new junctions. But having survived its attempts to get us to U-turn on the M8 and ditch us in the Clyde, we still arrived just before sunrise. We picked up the distinctive Gull in the twilight of Campbeltown Harbour, and enjoyed a fly-around before it headed off to roost in fields where we later caught up with it for more leisurely study, albeit at some distance.
The American Herring Gull is on the right of this trio. Bulkier than the neighbouring Herring Gull, with a cleaner white head, strongly patterned underparts and two-tone black and pink bill. We enjoyed closer views of these and other key features in Campeltown Harbour but it was too dark for photographs unfortunately. 
The Coot was simpler to find and identify, revealing itself from loch-side vegetation soon after our arrival. While coy at first, it eventually moved out into the open but the leftovers of breakfast which we made available out of the car window were not enough to tempt it to come really close. A great shame as Chris was desperate to put out the news as 'American Coot still present and coming to croissants'.
A White morph and an intermediate Snow Goose were associating with Greenland White-fronts as we headed back up the Mull of Kintyre.
Apart from the great birding, the Scottish weather was extraordinarily clement, the journey trouble-free but for some torrential English wetness on the way back down, and the company was excellent. Non-avian highlights included nodding off in the back seat near Loch Ness to dream I was in the middle of a blazing row about the existence of its eponymous monster, only to wake and find it wasn't a dream. Lowlights included a fruitless search for, well, fruit, in a Scottish motorway service area on the way home to fend off the scurvy which threatened after two days of living off delicious but unhealthy snacks. Green wine gums were the only thing we could find containing vitamin C.
While not at its stunning winter best, this male Long-tailed Duck in Burghead Harbour was still an attractive species to see.
All told, then, an excellent trip, and I was grateful to the other guys for letting a neurotic itinerant stranger into their twitching circle for the duration. I should also at this point publicly record my gratitude to my long-suffering wife for releasing me from paternal duties for the weekend. These, I have been informed since, included standing on a windy, rain-lashed touchline in Poole to witness an 8-2 victory for Wareham Rangers U-11s over Lilliput U-11s (a giant-killing, surely?).
Coal Tits are pretty tame at Loch Garten
As if that wasn't enough, I was unable to join the rest of the family at that pinnacle of cultural sophistication, the Purbeck Potato Festival. It is difficult to quantify the level of regret I feel about missing that. So if things go quiet in this space over the coming weeks it's probably because I have enacted a drastic Brownie Point Jar Deficit Reduction Plan. Swingeing cuts in my twitching exploits are sure to follow.
Bored with obviously staged photos of Bluetails and Great Spotted Woodpeckers on sickeningly mossy branches on Birdguides? Then here's the antedote. To get this shot I placed a carefully selected bit of chicken wire next to the bogs at Loch Garten and covered it in Pritt-stick.

Tuesday, 21 May 2013

Grouse Moore

Long, long ago, in a land far, far away, I had a birding holiday which has taken weeks to write up. You join me on the penultimate chapter. Having bagged Black and Red Grouse on my Scottish trip already by this point, on my last full day I hoped to see the other two British species of grouse, Capercaillie and Ptarmigan. The first involved an early start to join the Caperwatch crew at RSPB Loch Garten, the best way to see Capers without the risk of disturbing the birds, and also the most reliable.

Crested Tit
Red Squirrels and a Crested Tit were coming to the feeders at Loch Garten - the Crestie had been absent the previous day when the sun was out, giving it a wider range of feeding options, but the morning was sufficiently overcast to tempt it back for easier pickings. It was seriously dark under the pines by the entrance gate, and again the 7D coped reasonably well with the conditions. Two Ospreys were sitting on eggs in the famous reinforced tree, so there was always something to watch on the big screen while we waited for the light to improve.

Crested Tit

Many eyes, and several remote control cameras, make light work at the Caperwatch and although it was late in the lekking season, it was not so late that a Caper didn't turn up. This left Scottish Crossbill as the only Speyside speciality I had not seen, but word on the street was that they were very thin on the ground, and from previous experience I knew I could spend all day wandering forest tracks and still not see one. So, I switched my attention to Ptarmigan, for which, as the song says, the only way was up. A Yellowhammer between Loch Garten and Coylumbridge was a trip tick. Also en route to the Cairngorm car park, Loch Morlich can be good for Red-throated Diver, but not that day as a stiff breeze rippled the far side of the Loch where they are often seen.

Male Ptarmigan

My original plan was to take the long hike up Carn Ban Mor in the hope of a Dotterel as well. But with a poor forecast and so many reports coming through of Dotterel at traditional stopovers further south, I thought the effort might be in vain. Plus, I'm an idle swine and was a bit exhausted by all the travelling, so the lure of the Cairngorm Mountain Railway proved too much. At the top, two pairs of Ptarmigan could be seen from their namesake restaurant, and a Snow Bunting fed just below it. The weather closed in soon after I took these pictures so I was back on the Mountain Railway having seen Crested Tit, Caper and Ptarmigan all before lunch.

Female Ptarmigan
On the way back down, a male Ring Ouzel chacked around the lower car park. The rest of the day lay ahead, so after a brief consultation with the Satnav, I decided to have a go for the King Eider on the Ythan Estuary, a couple of hours east of Cairngorm, and on which I dipped this time last year. See how I got on in my next post which, I can almost promise, will be the last of my Scottish round up.

Red Grouse

Red Grouse

Friday, 25 February 2011

Tits and Treecreepers

Some more pictures taken during a rare bit of sunshine this week: from top, Crested Tit (x2), Coal Tit, Blue Tit, Treecreeper

























SAS Crestie

This Crested Tit visiting feeders at Loch an Eilein today appeared to have had SAS training: it's mission was to get in an out without anyone noticing. Unlike its showier cousins it would approach from the rear of the tree laden with feeders, sneak through the branches, drop in to grab a peanut and go. Much more obliging was this Treecreeper in the same area which also had the decency to pose for photographs during the only hour of sunlight of my five days in Scotland.