Dropping in for a chat

I joined the ranks of the unemployed this week for the first time in 27 years. In case you were worried there, don't be, I wasn't fired from my job at the council in disgrace: fortunately, unlike many of my colleagues in cash-strapped local government, I was able to leave at a time of my own choosing, and I shall return to full-time employment as early as next week. But more on that later, the week between jobs provided an opportunity yesterday to get out and about with the camera.

Northern Wheatear at Maiden Castle yesterday

The morning light was better at the Bill earlier in the day, but the Wheatears more distant



A female was with the male on a dung-heap at Maiden Castle

A second, less well marked bird at Portland Bill

It being mid-March, as the first summer migrant birds had been trickling in all week, there was one species in particular on my mind: Wheatear. Rising early I negotiated the road works onto Portland and hit the Bill slopes just as they were being kissed by the rising sun. The immediate reward was two male Wheatears. Seeing these long distance migrants from Africa catching the morning light was a tonic and appeared as proof that spring was winning the battle with winter, despite the forecast for weekend snow. Skylarks singing overhead seemed to prove the point. An obliging male Stonechat on the slopes and a Black Redstart in the Bill quarries completed an attractive trio of chats for the morning.

Female Black Redstart

A presumed migrant in the Bill quarries

Male Stonechat - often obliging around the Pulpit Inn

Skylark at Portland Bill

A brisk southerly saw rough seas crashing around the obelisk at the Bill's southern tip, so much so that the Purple Sandpipers which are often directly below had been pushed up to almost eye level, providing unusually good photo-opportunities. They were rather more successful at dodging the spray than I. I headed up to the more sheltered Church Ope Cove to dry off and look for Wall Lizards - more on them in a later post - and was treated to my first photographable butterfly of the year: a Peacock which basked briefly on a warm rock.

Purple Sandpiper

Purple Sandpiper

The Bill was taking a bit of a pounding on Friday

Peacock at Church Ope Cove

On the subject of butterflies, the return to gainful employment mentioned above starts very shortly in the form of probably my dream job at Butterfly Conservation, the UK charity dedicated to saving butterflies and moths, which is based here in Dorset. If you're not a member already, you obviously should be: they do great work for our hard-pressed Lepidoptera. And now there is the extra incentive that by joining you will be keeping me too busy to clutter up the internet with so-so photos :-). Speaking of which, here are a few more chats to end with - and why not!



Basking time

It's several weeks since winter was confidently declared over in this neglected corner of the internet. Sufficiently long ago in fact to make this pronouncement that spring has arrived an overdue statement of the obvious. Nowhere has it been more so than at Swineham, where the Adders and several of the early spring butterflies have been out for a while now thanks to an ongoing warm spell. A visit last weekend also produced my first 'proper' migrant birds of the year there in the form of not just one but four Little Ringed Plover on the floods which are still referred to grippingly as 'the Stilt pools'. While unsympathetic habitat management continues to take the shine out of visiting Swineham of late, some photos to prove that at least the sun hasn't deserted the old place completely:

Adder enjoying the early spring sunshine

Check out those eyes

Brimstone is uncommon at Swineham

Comma is more typical of the site

Of the butterflies that over-winter as adults, the Peacock seems to be doing particularly well this year 

Speckled Wood at Swineham: once known as the Wood Argus, this butterfly may over-winter as either larvae or pupa

Chiffchaffs can be seen all year round at Swineham but they are now singing almost constantly

Little Ringed Plover at Swineham

Grizzled and Dingy on the Downs

The words 'Grizzled' and 'Dingy' may not conjure up the most cheerful of images but the recent sunshine and warmth have seen an emergence of the Skippers which go by these names - enough, I would suggest, to lift any spirits. I was able to spend some time this week with both species, along with other butterflies and day-flying moths, on Fontmell and Melbury Downs, two of Dorset's finest.

Grizzled Skipper on Fontmell Down

A lot prettier than the name suggests

Dingy Skipper - a little more understated, I grant you, but 'Dingy' still seems a bit harsh

Who doesn't love an Orange Tip?



Commoner than the Skippers but no less welcome was this Green-veined White



The battered wing suggests that this Peacock has had a close shave with a would-be predator

Day-flying moths were also in evidence on the Downs, including some attractive micros. I wasn't carrying the scholarly works of Messrs Sterling, Parsons and Lewington to help with the ID, though I took the precaution of having the first one of them with me in person, which made the task a little easier!

Small Purple-barred - a day-flying macro-moth

Another Small Purple-barred - though much easier to see how it gets its name from this one

A very striking micro - Pyrausta purpuralis

The closely related Pyrausta nigrata

Ancylis unculana

There was too much to look at on the ground to look up much, but when I did this Red Kite was a handsome reward

A fine show of Bluebells in many Dorset woodlands at the moment

While I try to avoid being a camera gear-bore on these pages, a few people have asked me how I am getting on with my newish Canon 100-400mm Mk II zoom lens, so if you don't want to know, look away now. I bought it largely because I figured the closer focus (about 3 feet compared to about 10 for the 400mm f5.6) and zoom range would give me more versatility for a wider range of subjects, particularly smaller subjects, compared to my old 400mm. I like to travel reasonably light so having the flexibility to shoot distant and close subjects, of all sizes, without the need to carry around a second lens or a macro, was an important consideration.

I was already pleased with the results I was getting for bird photography with it over the autumn and winter, but this is its first spring, and after a bit of a poor summer last year which restricted the scope for insect photography, I have now been able to start putting it through its paces on a wider range of subjects than was possible with my old lens. Compared to that, I have to say it's quicker, just as sharp and the Image Stabiliser does seem to give the equivalent of a few extra stops of light, especially in darker conditions.

I have also been quite pleased with how it performs as an alternative to a macro lens, the closer focus compared to the 400mm being the key to this. Being a long zoom lens, good sized images of smaller subjects are possible without getting too close or disturbing them. Clearly, as you can see from some of these images, it was never going to be as good as a proper macro, and it's also a lot heavier (the Canon guarantee could have included neckache!). But if you like to photograph a variety of subjects, and only want to carry one lens around over your shoulder without a tripod, my conclusion is that you could do a lot worse than this. So if anyone is out there with their finger hovering over the 'Buy now' button of a consumer electronics website, I hope this helps!

 

 

 

Stoatally devoted

Such a devoted husband and father am I that I dragged my entire family to Northumberland recently, forced them onto a boat and made them visit some islands covered in bird poo. Fortunately just the mention of 'poo' is enough to send my young sons into hysterics, so in the end it was a win-win really. They retaliated by dragging me around some castles and beaches, and I then had the last laugh by dragging them around the nature reserve at Hauxley, scene of one of my most spectacular dips (Greater Yellowlegs, 2011). This visit was rather happier - no mega-rare birds to pursue or anything like that, but a lot of flora and fauna to appreciate at this excellent Northumberland Wildlife Trust site. Highlight was a Stoat which showed itself a couple of times in the car park.

Stoat

Stoat

Stoat

Peacock

Small Copper

Pheasant among a stunning array of wildflowers in the car park at Hauxley

We don't get many Tree Sparrows in Dorset so a treat to see good numbers around Hauxley and Cresswell

Juvenile Tree Sparrow

 

Four Go Mad on Brownsea

I did a stress management course at work last week which, in an award winning statement of the bleeding obvious, advised anyone suffering stress to 'remove themselves from the source of the stress'. As the source of stress is generally work, taking this advice to heart I booked Friday off and went to Brownsea Island instead. Here, the only thing likely to cause stress is a rarity turning up on the mainland.

This Guillemot was just off the Quay on Brownsea

After a bit of cajoling I was joined on the trip by my wife, Claire - a rare day out for me and the fragrant one sans les enfants - and by fellow stress-dodgers Steve and Jol. Brownsea is said to have inspired some of Enid Blyton's most famous works, but as we shuffled around in the drizzle, grumbling about modernity and the price of National Trust cakes, I fear we were less Famous Five and more Last of the Summer Wine.

Grey Phalarope, Brownsea

Still, cake was not the main objective of this mission: rather, it was to see a Grey Phalarope which was spinning merrily on the lagoon among a host of larger waders. Cleggy Jol, Nora Claire and I got the first boat and saw the Phalarope almost straight away; fortunately it was still there when Compo Steve bowled over on the next ferry.

Avocet, Brownsea

Mission thus accomplished, after some quality time with the Avocets and Spotshanks, we went in search of Brownsea's remnant population of Golden Pheasant. At Jol's secret stakeout, to which we were led blindfold, he managed to just see a splash of red and gold through the undergrowth but the rest of us failed despite sitting next to him. Distracted, no doubt, by the resident Red Squirrels chasing around making squeaky toy noises.

Red Squirrel, Brownsea

Back on the mainland, after all the excitement of Brownsea, I needed to go somewhere quiet and birdless. I knew Swineham wouldn't let me down. Arriving at the Point - about as far as it is possible to go due east from my house without wading into Poole Harbour - the pager reported a Red-breasted Flycatcher, a surprisingly rare bird in Dorset, near Weymouth, another good find for Brett Spencer.

 Peacock sitting out a shower on Brownsea. 'I say, that bird looks foreign. Perhaps it's an illegal immigrant' (adapted from the inspiration for this post, Five Go Mad in Dorset. Described as a comedy film, but pretty much a documentary of our lives down here).

With less than two hours of daylight left this presented a 'should I stay or should I go' dilemma. It was resolved when a text message arrived from Steve and Jol offering a lift. To take advantage of it required a swift walk and an even swifter cycle ride to get back to Wareham before they did. Unable to get a signal, by the time I finally managed to get a pleading text out they had already passed the town centre, but gallantly turned around to pick me up.

This Red-backed Shrike kept us entertained while waiting for the Red-breasted Flycatcher

With the bike safely ditched in a hedgerow, we got to the Flycatcher site with over an hour of daylight left but sadly it was not enough time to find the bird. I went back again this afternoon and after a couple of fruitless hours searching, in a happy ending which could have been penned by Enid herself, I finally managed to catch up with it just before it went to roost.

The distance and low light made the R-B Fly unphotographable. Just after I saw it this Barn Owl appeared, illustrating the lateness of the hour