Thanks fur the memories

It is with a heavy heart that I have to relay the sad news that Hodge, the guinea pig, who first featured on this blog back in the spring, sadly passed away earlier this evening. I arrived home to find two inconsolable children shedding great lumps of tears at his loss. In a cruel twist, it was the younger son's pet who perished, having jumped out of his older brother's hands and fallen from height in an ill-fated bid for freedom. So as well as the trauma, the seeds of fraternal resentment may also have been sown in that moment. I hope not, I never resented my own brother for anything worse than making my Lego at Christmas before I had the chance to. But that was years ago now, 2 or 3 anyway, so it's virtually forgotten.

Hodge: much loved, he will be sorely missed

The children were allowed to play on the Xbox this evening by their mother as a special treat. 'Do you think that will cheer you up?' I asked. 'No, but it might help take my mind off it a bit' sobbed one, craning his neck to peer over my shoulder and focus on his counter attack on FIFA 15, as I attempted to be a supportive dad. The other one didn't seem any happier by the end of the game, his World Legends XI having been soundly beaten by Arsenal. Probably not the best therapy, with hindsight, in his fragile emotional state.

As for Hodge, well, he has been lying in state on an armchair, wrapped in his favourite towel, almost too long for me to be entirely comfortable, though I daren't say so for fear of being accused of insensitivity. For similar reasons, options for the funeral have yet to be broached. The garden's a bit small, and it would really rub salt in if we got up one morning to find him excavated by a fox. The well travelled Steve Smith suggested a sky burial, Tibetan style. Thanks Steve, but with the Wareham vulture population being what it is, I think we'll pass on that. I would prefer interment on a grassy plain, in keeping with the natural habitat of his genetic ancestors, but pampas is a pretty scarce habitat in Dorset. Ultimately, of course, it won't be up to me, and I fear nothing less than a full gun carriage to Westminster Abbey will be contemplated by his bereaved owner.

To be perfectly honest, I never really wanted the kids to have pets, partly to protect them from this kind of upset, but to be fair they have looked after the little critters really well and showed no sign of getting bored of the daily slopping out and grooming routines as I had expected. So I really am feeling for them, despite having teased about their furry charges on occasion via this medium. And, after a suitable period of mourning, I hope eventually to be able to add to the photo year list again.

OK, mourning over.

What, too soon?

A twirl around the Radipole Lake car park on Sunday, visited after my pipit-bothering session, added some ballast to the photo year list: Common Gull #29

No Caspo, unlike my last visit, just a Herring Gull #30

Lesser Black-backed Gull #31

A reliable spot for Mediterranean Gull #32

Pied Wagtail-Gull #33

 

My big break

I was finally discharged by the NHS last week after making a full recovery from last November's unfortunate collarbone snappage, but unlike this time last year when I was confined to barracks, this one has yet to produce a conveyor belt of accessible, long staying mega-rare birds to torture the immobilised twitcher.

This should mean a bit more time for updating the blog, and a few weeks ago I pledged to make more of an effort, but the pledge has not been entirely fulfilled. Not since the Eastern Crowned Warbler at least. Hang on, let me just say that again: Eastern Crowned Warbler. There, feeling better already. Rather than trot out the usual excuse of busy busy with work, though, I do have a genuine excuse this time in that, in recent weeks, becoming a match correspondent for Wareham Rangers Youth FC Under-12s, for whom son George regularly turns out, has created competing demands on the time I have available for writing stuff.

Firecrest: a highlight  of a recent trip to the patch

You know what folks, I really think this could be my ticket to the big-time: if I catch the Club Secretary's eye, I might get promoted to the Under-14s and then the sky's the limit - well, the under-15s is the limit technically but you catch my drift. And before you know it I'll be guest on the Wareham St Mary Primary School 'Question of Sport' Christmas Special panel and, who knows, maybe even ghost-writing Joe Mitchell's footballing autobiography...

Mistle Thrush at Swineham

In truth, writing the match reports has proven a lot easier than writing bird blog posts, as (i) material isn't in such short supply - even a bad game lasts for 60 minutes, about which it would be difficult to find nothing to say (ii) at this level, goals are usually flying in so there is plenty to write about (iii) Rangers are having a belting season so it's more pleasure than chore (iv) parents of youth footballers are quite easily pleased: as long as a match report strings together a random selection of football clichés in roughly the right order, and mentions their kid at least once, they seem reasonably content. Woe betide you, however, if you credit a goal to the wrong child, as I did at my first attempt. That aside, and parking the frustrations of youth football journalistic etiquette, which prevents obviously dodgy penalties being described as such, and it's quite enojoyable really.

Pied Wagtail at Bestwall

Anyway, this weekend's fixture (a thrilling 3-4 away win at local big boys Poole Town) kicked off earlier than usual so there was just time to have a look around Swineham, my traditional Sunday afternoon stroll around which has long since been a victim of the fixture list. Nothing more noteworthy there than a pair of Black Swans, which, being fully winged and un-ringed, naturally gained instant admission to my patch list. Well I have to keep it ticking over somehow...

As if in heavenly retribution for this diabolical lowering of standards, as I stood on the most open part of Swineham Point, and started to count how many seconds there were between the first flash of lighting of the afternoon and the clap of thunder which followed, I found to my consternation that I didn't quite get to '2'. If I've been closer to the centre of a thunder storm I don't recall it: it really was the most almighty, gut-trembling noise, and I don't mind admitting it left me feeling quite awe-struck, and not a little exposed. All the fowls of the air - Godwits, Little Egrets and Lapwings - must have felt likewise as they flushed from previously unseen roosts, and I scurried back to the shelter of the nearest hedgerow, lest I be smote down for unethical listing. So the Black Swan record is now firmly back in category 'E'.

How low can you go: Black Swans at Bestwall

Doing subtlety at Swineham

For any non-birders reading this, you've probably heard the Common Chiffchaff, Phylloscopus collybita, singing its name on warm spring-like days like today. But you are probably blissfully unaware of the fierce debate which rages in the world of birding about the identification of the subtly different sub-species Siberian Chiffchaff, Phylloscopus collybita tristis. For the full story you'll have to read chapter 16 of the Sound Approach's Catching the Bug, or get several back issues of British Birds. But in case that's too much trouble to go to, here's a Guardian-style 'Digested Read':

Expert 1: 'Grey-brown Chiffchaffs wintering in Britain are most likely to be Siberian'
Expert 2: 'But they might be another kind of Common'
Expert 1: 'Unlikely and anyway the distinctive call is diagnostic'
Expert 2: 'Oh no it isn't'
Expert 1: 'Oh yes it is'
Expert 3: 'More knowledge of this species complex is needed. Can I have a research grant?'

So that's the heated debate dealt with: but what does this mean for the humble patch birder's chances of stumbling across a Siberian Chiffchaff? I didn't have to worry too much as Swineham's birdfinder-general Marcus Lawson did the hard work, locating three tristis recently around the gravel pits. These looked and sounded the part and responded to recordings of tristis. He also managed some photos - see here - so not to be outdone I had a go myself today. Results below, and comments welcome:

Pic 1: the first Chiffchaff I came across, this bird was frustratingly silent so the fact that calls and song might be the best way to clinch it wasn't much help! But the grey-brown upperparts and pale underparts with little hint of yellow look good for tristis.

Pic 2: taken a few seconds later from the same spot at almost exactly the same angle so a meaningful comparison in terms of colouration, this is a 'normal' Chiffchaff collybita which was associating with the bird in Pic 1. I have sharpened up both pics 1 and 2 but not changed the levels otherwise.

Pic 3: same bird as Pic 1: the eye-ring in tristis is said to be less prominent than in collybita, and lacking or merging with the longer and more obvious supercilium above the eye. The bill is also said to be smaller and blacker with an almost straight culmen giving an upturned look (Van Duivendijk). All a bit subtle to judge in the field!

Pic 4: same bird as pics 1 and 3. This shot shows very pale underparts well with hardly any hint of colour. Again, image sharpened but otherwise not altered, and taken from same spot and similar angle to pics 1-3. 

Pic 5: this very grey and white looking bird was near where Marcus had seen his, and the same place where I heard a tristis call the previous evening from a bird which didn't show very well. This one gave a better view but kept schtum!

Pic 6: same bird as pic 5 - some yellow/olive tones can be seen in the closed wing

Pic 7: Common Chiffchaff taken at the same time from the same spot and almost exactly the same angle as pics 5 and 6 so again a meaningful comparison.

Pic 8: not entirely sure about this one: in the field it looked like collybita but on the screen looks quite brown with not much in the way of olive or yellow tones. But underparts do look more sullied at least along the flanks and breast side, the super is certainly not as long or strong as birds in pics 1 and 5, and bill looks a bit stronger too. Feet and base of bill also much lighter than those of birds in pics 1 and 5. So probably collybita. Again, it uttered not a word to help with my dilemma.

Pic 9: my head hurts, so I've given up de-constructing Chiffchaffs now. I just like this picture.

That's more like it, nice and simple: white blaze on the face, big round head and clown's shoe of a bill = female Scaup. One of three on the gravel pits at Swineham.

And this even simpler: Pied Wagtail in a Wareham Churchyard. On the gravestone of the first birder who tried to sort out Chiffchaff taxonomy only to die trying.

 



Mega-alert! Mega-alert!

Expect to see this message popping up on pagers and mobiles over the next few weeks. How do I know? I've just put my 400mm lens in for repair, that's how. Last time I did this I had point blank views of Lapland Buntings, Sabine's Gulls and Grey Phalaropes, but no decent gear to take pictures with. There's no good time to take your favourite lens out of action, unless you are fortunate enough to have a stash of top of the range spares in the cupboard (which I'm not. A 12 year old 200-400mm Tamron zoom which focuses slower than a Sloth with cataracts doesn't count.). So for now, here's the last few photos taken with the f5.6 before it went off to Canon, taken while pootling around Wareham.

 

Meadow Pipit, Bestwall

Pied Wagtail on a rooftop on Bestwall Road

Male Great Spotted Woodpecker, Swineham

Brambling - part of a small flock which has spent a few months on the outskirts of Wareham

The Grey Squirrels (Prohibition of Importation and Keeping) Order 1937 makes it a criminal offence for a land owner not to notify Defra of the presence of grey squirrels on their land. It's true, look it up. I wonder if the owners of Bestwall House grassed this one up.

Long-tailed Tit, Swineham

Great Tit, Swineham

Who ate all the Pieds?

A weekend in Brighton visiting family usually provides an opportunity to look for Purple Sandpipers on the walls of Brighton Marina. But bad weather saw the walls closed to the public leaving only park life to photograph. The sight of this Herring Gull stretching its gizzard reminded me of seeing a Lesser Black-back eat a Moorhen at Cley a few years ago. Quite disgusting. More than enough to make the local Pied Wagtails keep a nervous distance.