The Joys of Migration

After weeks of measured gains and stop-start bouts of action, it finally feels like migration has reached its peak here in Northumberland. With this week alone bringing many and more enjoyable encounters with the vast majority of our more abundant Summer visitors – sometimes in volume, sometimes alone – as breeding sites dotted around the local woodlands, reedbeds and moorland stretches are occupied once more by an eclectic mix of treasures.

There have been some wonderful birds popping up of late: a surprise Pallas’s Warbler on the Farne Islands and a Hoopoe at Derwent reservoir foremost among them. Delightful birds which, unfortunately, I did not see but not the subject of this post anyhow. With this particular account dedicated to the myriad common species now singing and feeding right across the local area. Each and all providing a welcome respite for work, university and other necessary yet tedious tasks occupying so much of my time of late.

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Ring Ouzel at St. Mary’s Island on Tuesday

Following the surge of Blackcaps and hirundines a fortnight ago and, before that, the welcome return of our Chiffchaffs and Willow Warblers, two species appear to have exploded into consciousness of late: Grasshopper Warblers and Whitethroats. With the former now reeling from unkempt patches across the length and breadth of the coast – at Druridge Pools, where a particularly showy individual delighted on Thursday, and elsewhere at Cambois, Sleekburn, Bedlington, St. Mary’s. Likewise, with only two separate Whitethroats observed prior to this week, I have now reached double digits with several of these rather lovely warblers now back amid the brambles growths and hedgerows of my local patch. Singing as they ascend into the air during their enthralling song flights, before plummeting back into cover and in a flurry of scratchy but satisfying calls.

The distinct highlight of the past week came in the from an up close and personal encounter with two cracking Ring Ouzels at St. Mary’s  – a temporary pause in the sites usually incessant human traffic allowing me to enjoy the birds in quiet solitude as they fed amid the tussocks. The pair providing unparalleled views for a species I am more used to seeing as a brown-black blur disappearing into cover immediately after making landfall. Here too, a female Pied Flycatcher fed in the dabbled shade cast by a fresh looking Hawthorn – a pleasure to behold under any circumstance – and, arguably better still given my track record with the species, a Garden Warbler reared its head temporarily from some nearby brambles. The bird going on, later, to mimic the aforementioned flycatcher – snatching a bluebottle mid-flight before returning, once more, to cover.

Following a few encounters last week, Sedge Warblers now bejewel the vast majority of the local scrubby areas. Singing their distinctive, clamourous song from the tops of saplings, from swaying reeds and the browned stems of last years hogweed. Their vocalisations occasionally interspersed by brief bouts of Reed Warbler song at some of our more wild locations – East Chevington and Druridge Pools. While, on a final warbler-centric note, some favourable winds also brought me my first Lesser Whitethroat of year. The charming little bird, a personal favourite of mine, singing from the margins of a nearby playing field; its characteristic sooty face-markings prominent in the fine sunshine.

Bypassing the numerous swallows, sand and house martins now in residence, the inland reaches of the county currently throng with life. A trip to Beacon Hill – a mid-sized stand of mature woodland not far from the town of Longhorsly – throwing up three radiant male Redstarts. The birds voicing their virility from the tops of a few of the sites unfurling Oaks. With these, a Tree Pipit was also observed – briefly perched amid the twigs of Birch – while a second was heard singing later in the day. Its descending notes providing a pleasant reminder of last summer’s field season in Scotland, where this species provided the accompanying soundtrack to many ornithological surveys. A Cuckoo was also heard singing here, my excitement surging with each repetitive call from the frustrating elusive bird.

Spring has sprung in Northumberland and while I am yet to catch up with a few of our late or more secretive migrants – Spotted Flycatcher, Swift and Wood Warbler – I stand content with this weeks haul. The above posting going without mention of the innumerable Whimbrel observed on their Northbound migration and, for that matter, the Common Sandpipers now bobbing along the margins of many nearby rivers. Winter migrants have departed by the large part, though some remain. This week bringing sightings of European White-Fronted Goose and Whooper Swan, and last week, a pair of Redwing – perhaps my latest ever. Largely, however, such species are a bygone memory and the new season has well and truly dawned, much to my own personal delight.

 Willow Warbler

 

Oh yeah, butterfly numbers are also up…

Doing my bit for Curlew conservation

The haunting call of the Eurasian Curlew (Numenius arquata) is one of the most iconic, and indeed, enjoyable sounds in nature. The rippling trill of Britain’s largest wading bird evoking mist-clad moorlands, windswept coastal estuaries and other exquisite wild places. It is a sound which, once heard, is not soon forgotten; the very embodiment of our islands rugged yet fragile countryside, and a sound which, to me, brings back myriad fond memories. From childhood walks around the Blyth Estuary – my local patch – and from further afield, in the Scottish uplands during my post-university years. Despite this, however, it is a sound which is heard less often in the present day – due to our own ignorance. The species continued and troubling decline recently highlighted in the State of Birds 2016 report.

The factors attributing to the decline of the Curlew are poorly understood; though a number of explanations have been put forward to explain the current state of the British population. Among these, it is thought that climate change, afforestation, changes in farming practice and a resulting increase in generalist predators such as foxes and corvids may be to blame. With the former resulting in a vast decrease in the availability of suitable breeding habitat and the latter, a woefully low rate of reproductive success. With these factors, together, attributing to a 46% decline in Curlew numbers across the UK between 1994 and the present day.

While the causes of the Curlews woeful decline remain open to debate, the importance of the British population stands clear for all to see: our islands hold 28% of the European population, and as such, are of global importance. It is equally clear that more must be done to halt the decline of this endearing wader – and soon, before it is too late.

Thankfully, more is being done. Largely in the form of vital research and monitoring courtesy of the British Trust for Ornithology who are currently working to better our understanding of the species and provide a sound, scientifically valid basis for future conservation efforts. This work – undertaken through an extensive (and costly) program of ringing, GPS tracking and research – surely vital if we are going to bring Britain’s embattled Curlew back from the brink. This, coupled with our own adoration of the species, is why myself and good friends Sacha Elliott and Tiffany Francis have decided to do something positive and actively support the BTO’s Curlew Appeal.

To raise money in defence of the Curlew, the three of us have opted to commit to the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge, with our hike due to take place during August 2017. An event we feel will challenge ourselves physically – we are, by our own admission, not the fittest bunch of young naturalists out there – but also allow us to raise vital funds for what we feel is an incredibly important cause.

The challenge takes in the peaks of Pen-y-ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough and involves some 40km of hiking over often challenging ground: accomplish-able in around 12 hours. This is easily the most walking that any of us have done in one go before and will surely prove testing, yet also, we hope, worthwhile.

Prior to undertaking the trip this Summer, we have set up a Just Giving page to raise money for the BTO and have broadcast an open offer for others to join us in our venture. If you too would like to take part, and thus raise both funds and awareness for the Curlew, you can join our fundraising team. While equally, and perhaps more importantly, you can support our campaign both financially – if you can spare the change – or by sharing it with friends, family or anyone else you feel might like to donate. Every little really does help, and if we are to reach our team target of £2000, we will certainly need your help. And would be incredibly grateful if you would consider supporting our venture.

If you would like to donate, or indeed, learn more about the project. You can visit my own Just Giving through the link below. Though Sacha and Tiffany will also be distributing links their own fundraising pages on social media too.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/James-Common2

 

The floodgates are opening, at last

Migration really is a wonderful thing: one minute you can be gazing forlornly at a decrepit stand of brambles, hoping against hope to hear the faintest hweet from an elusive Chiffchaff; and next, you can be dashing around like a lunatic wholly surrounded by birds. Such is the nature of Spring, as the frustrating trickle of new arrivals that coincides with late March soon gives way to an exhilarating flood of colour as the season advances.

The floodgates appear to be opening here in Northumberland, with the few intrepid warblers and martins now joined by many and more familiar faces. And a few more unusual characters too. Druridge, as ever, continues to prove its value as a hotspot for weird and wonderful bird life with the past two days alone providing two standout species. With yesterday’s Common Crane – a species I have wanted to see in the UK ever since I was able to make out the words in my childhood bird book – a definitive highlight; though one outshone, on this occasion, by an altogether unexpected treasure today: a Red-Rumped Swallow. The latter, having been unearthed five minutes before at East Chevington, careering overhead as I stood, entranced, on the coastal path. A wonderful bird which, by merit alone, eclipsed the aforementioned crane entirely. Though both left me equally giddy.

Glaring rarities aside, today alone provided a host of other goodies; with a Spoonbill at Druridge Pools foremost among them. This being only my third of these lethargic waders in the county, and a most welcome addition to this years county list challenge to boot. Visiting Druridge Pools early this morning, I was also lucky enough to pick up a Red Kite flying south above the floods. A reasonably common bird elsewhere in Britain (where they are not ruthlessly persecuted or fed KFC to such an extent that they do not spread) though one that, for some unknown reason, remains scarce in Northumberland. The raptor sailing overhead just as my attention turned to the call of a likely Sedge Warbler emanating from the South corner of the deep pool. I missed the warbler, but kite and Spoonbill provided more than fair recompense.

Elsewhere, common migrants were abundant throughout Druridge Bay. Wheatear being particularly apparent – at Cresswell, Hemscott Hill and Chevington – and a beautiful Yellow Wagtail picked out in the company of a lone Alba Wagtail in a nearby field. Sand Martins were the most numerous new arrival on show, with around 120 birds seen throughout the day, while 14 Swallow and a single House Martin were also observed. The best of the rest, at least in terms of migrants, consisting of a male Marsh Harrier, 2 Sandwich Tern, 14 Willow Warbler, 10 Chiffchaff and 11 Avocet at Cresswell Pond. No Grasshopper Warblers to be heard yet, and no chance encounters with the likes of Ring Ouzel or Cuckoo, but there is plenty time for that.

Spring visitors aside, there was plenty to keep me entertained elsewhere today. With some highlights including two Grey Partridge, a male Yellowhammer and 15 Tree Sparrow at Cresswell. Where a good-sized flock of 22 Linnet and loose gathering of 7 Shoveler were also seen. Druridge Pools held the usual variety of wildfowl, alongside the added bonus of both European White-Fronted Goose and Whooper Swan – the latter being constantly terrorised by the resident Mute cob during the duration of my stay – while 10 Twite fed in one of the nearby paddocks. Finally, at Chevington, a Water Rail was heard giving its best stuck-pig impression from the Northern reedbed and a Kestrel hunted the dunes, much to the alarm of the plentiful Meadow Pipits and Skylark who temporarily abandoned their vocal antics to hassle it.

As you can tell, lots to see and hear of late, and I, for one, have had a marvellous time. This week looks set to centre around planning for my upcoming Masters thesis though, given the way of things of late, I can see myself being drawn out of hiding again in the very near future.

Cover image: Tero Laakso, Flickr CC, http://www.flickr.com/photos/talaakso/3775104351/

Walking the coast road

Monday saw me embarking on a lengthy 10-mile stroll along my favourite stretch of coastline. A rare free day allowing for a leisurely saunter between the reserves of Druridge Bay; to engross myself in the various sights and sounds of Spring and rewild myself following an altogether monotonous week of university work. The day marked by pleasant sunshine, returning migrants, seasonal blooms, bees, butterflies and, of course, no end of fascinating birdlife – this is Druridge after all.

The route – not overly long or strenuous but good practice for August’s Curlew walk

The day started at Cresswell Pond: which I found surprisingly devoid of human life upon arrival. No birders, no farmers and, better still, no photographers harrying the local Barn Owls to within an inch of their life – bliss.

Here, as the rising sun painted the poolside Phragmites a pleasing gold, I enjoyed a spectacular dawn chorus. One dominated by the uplifting song of Skylark and the descending tones of Meadow Pipit, both singing en masse from within the surrounding fields. Their calls interspersed, in enjoyable fashion, by the repetitive notes of Chiffchaff, the metallic sound of Lapwings and, occasionally, the familiar song of a nearby Yellowhammer. Indeed, all of these species were observed in abundance as I made my way to the vacant hide, in addition to two Grey Partridge, twelve Tree Sparrow and a confiding pair of Stock Dove making the most of a pile of spilt grain beside the path.

Things remained interesting during my stay in the hide: with no less than ten Avocets observed immediately upon arrival, including six on the foreshore. The birds squabbling, courting and copulating in a flurry of activity as other waders – Redshank, Turnstone, Curlew and Snipe – slept, disinterested nearby. It is hard to believe that only a few years back these pristine, monochrome waders were a relatively scarce sight within the county. Their presence here, and at other local sites, testament to their ongoing recovery in Britain.

Avocets aside, the rest of the lagoon stood relatively quiet by comparison; a pair of Shoveler and a single Little Ringed Plover the only sightings of note. With the latter promptly taking flight, only to be relocated, half an hour later, at Hemscott Hill. Where, in the company of a few gulls, it gave good views on one of the roadside floods. A mixed flock of around twenty Linnet and eight Twite was also nice to see here; though they remained flighty and I soon found myself itching to move on.

Greenfinch also nice to see on route – far from the common bird they used to be

Next stop Druridge Pools and another hour spent languishing in the increasingly warm sun.  The shelter belt here proved interesting; with the years first Willow Warblers – four to be precise – noted in full song alongside numerous Chiffchaff, Linnet, Song Thrush and Wren. Two Stonechat were observed here also, watchful yet approachable, as ever, though the real treat came from the floods – where a confused jumble of lingering Winter migrants and fresh new arrivals made for queer viewing. The Great White Egret was easily picked out – despite attempting to conceal itself amid a small tussock – and a Water Pipit fed outside the hide. Giving me my best views of this species to date and allowing for ample notes to be taken so that I may find one of my own in the future (and not misidentify a queer looking Scandinavian Rock Pipit).

Elsewhere on the budge fields, three Pintail made for a pleasant sight amid the massed bodies of Wigeon, Teal, Shoveler and Mallard; while a Eurasian White-Fronted Goose looked rather worse for where as it sat beside the nearest pool. With other highlights including eighteen Snipe, a few Dunlin, a Little Egret and a female Red-Breasted Merganser. Departing via the deeper pool to the North, the resident Great Crested Grebes appeared rather amorous and a lone Sand Martin hawked in solitude above the water.

Tree Sparrow at Cresswell

The short walk between Druridge and Chevington, as ever, proved enjoyable; the ground here, poached and muddied by the incessant footfall of the local cows, always good for a bird or two. Indeed, here, among the bovids, a number of Meadow Pipit, Skylark and Stonechat fed – with closer scrutinty of the cow feeders revealing four Twite and, on a more exciting note, the years first Alba Wagtail. The fields on the alternate side of the foothpath held a pair of Whooper Swans – perhaps the last I will see this Spring.

My time on the Chevington reserve itself started well: with the enigmatic sight of a male Marsh Harrier quartering the path-side scrub. The raptor rising and falling, hovering and diving until, eventually, it emerged with something small and brown clutched within its talons. A vole perhaps? Though it could equally have been a small bird. Also here, a Kestrel hunted around the Southern reedbed and a brief scan of Chibburn Burnmouth revealed a twittering flock of another 20+ Twite alongside the Littoralis (Scandinavian) Rock Pipit which, until that point, had been vexing birders for a number of days. A smart little bird with a definite Water Pipit look about it.

The North pool at Chevington was quiet by recent standards with no Scaup, Pochard and Slavonian Grebe to speak of, and certainly no Pacific Diver. The resident Great Crested Grebes (six of them) did, however, put on a go show; while a few more Sand Martin passed speedily through on route North.

Willow Warbler – my first of the year

 Onwards from Chevington and little new was observed for a short while; although various common bits and bobs remained very much apparent. More Willow Warbler, Chiffchaff and Sand Martin; flyby Stock Doves and another pair of Grey Partridge. Things did, however, pick up as I wandered past Hauxley Nature Reserve where the raucous calls of descending geese caught my attention – the precursor to a flock of  c200 birds dropping in to visit the pools and nearby fields. Greylags and Canada Geese were, of course, numerous; though thirty Pink-Footed Geese were somewhat suprising by comparison, my first in weeks. With these, eight White-Fronted Geese – looking altogether more fit and healthy than the earlier bird and doubtless just stopping in for a break on route back to their breeding grounds. A nice surprise and an unexpected addition to the day’s tally.

The day ended at Amble, with a brief bout of seawatching and the addition of Puffin to the year list. The sight of a few birds milling about on the sea a fitting precursor to what is to come later in the season; when I depart for the Farne Islands to carry out my MSc dissertation. A project centred entirely around these charismatic little auks.

Winter’s Gibbet

Winter’s Gibbet, a decrepit relic of a bygone age when the public display of corpses was deemed acceptable, is a rather eerie place to visit. The structure, standing on the site of an ancient boundary stone, marking the spot where, following his execution for the 1791 murder of Margaret Crozier, the body of William Winter was displayed for all to see. It is, however, also a rather beautiful location; overlooking the shady depths of Harwood Forest and surrounded on adjacent sides by rolling expanses of moorland. Perfect for a touch of upland birding.

 Today’s visit to the gibbet started well; blazing sun and soft winds providing the prime conditions for raptor watching, and the ever-present chorus of upland passerines lending the day a distinctly atmospheric feel. Indeed, our stay was accompanied start to finish by the singing of Meadow Pipit and Skylark and, from within the wood, the incessant calling of Siskin, Goldcrest and Coal Tit. With the undulating notes of some not too distant Curlew thrown in for good measure – the birds observed later, back on territory alongside many and more Lapwing, Golden Plover and even Snipe.

As mentioned previously, raptors were, of course, the target of our venture; this is, after all, a vantage point known to many as a prime location from which to ogle a great number of our predatory bird species. Our hopes soon rising as more and more Buzzards (I counted nine in total) lifted as if from nowhere to ride the thermals above the bottle-green wood. Lazy wingbeats striking a sharp parallel to the rapid hovering of a nearby Kestrel who hunted the roadside heath for the duration of our stay. The unhurried, almost fatigued, flight of the Buzzards allowing for easy recognition of a male Goshawk when it eventually joined the fray. Showing well, albeit distantly, as it broke cover – circling a few times in the company of the larger birds before dropping, once more, from sight.

A Raven was nice to see here too – gliding across the distant wood on inky wings and marking my first encounter with this species in 2017.

Heading home via the coast; a handsome drake Ring-Necked Duck was at the Northumberland Wildlife Trust’s Hauxley reserve and a Great White Egret was observed at Druridge Pools. With other interesting titbits including Avocet, at Cresswell, Scaup and Slavonian Grebe, at East Chevington, and many more Kestrels and Buzzards enjoying the radiant sun along our route home.

Header image: Copyright Phil Thirkell and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Meandering through the Northumbrian Spring

The weather of late has been typically fluid; the last week alone finding me battered by gale force winds, soaked by Spring rains and, occasionally, warmed to the core by pleasant bouts of sunshine. The conditions so changeable, in fact, that I have aborted many more walks than I have enjoyed; though, mercifully, the select few outings I have managed have been memorable. Trips both this week and last rife with enchanting wildlife unearthed around the local area: filled with emergent insects, spring migrants and lingering relics of Winter. All of which, together, have provided a welcome distraction from my currently tedious Masters course.

On the avian front, migration certainly seems to be picking up; with yesterday alone filled to the brim with the uplifting sight of migrating wildfowl. Foremost among these: Whooper Swans, with a grand total of 89 observed during a short morning walk. Each and all heading North with some haste. With these, an abundance of Pink-Footed Geese, Wigeon and Common Scoter; with the addition of four Barnacle Geese providing a welcome divergence from the norm and amplifying the highs of previous ventures. Each of which have proven no less enthralling, with ample sightings of Woodcock, Slavonian Grebe, Scaup, Pochard, Shorelark and Twite – yet more species soon to vanish from the area as the new season advances.

Another remnant of colder times has been particularly apparent of late: Short-Eared Owls. With a grand total of eight birds seen during the past week, including an extremely confiding individual hunting the grassy margins of Cresswell Pond NWT – much to the annoyance of the local Skylarks. The remaining seven seen together – over the course of an hour – quartering the peripheries of a nearby lake. These wonderful birds – a favourite among birders, photographers and casual nature lovers alike – looking beyond dapper in the half-hearted sunlight. This record – a personal high count – followed, in in exceptional fashion, by the sight of a Long-Eared Owl hunting some nearby grassland. Always a treat.

Whereas winter visitors remain very much in evidence, the heralds of the forthcoming season have been a little harder to come by. Indeed, for days now I have found myself filled with anticipation and desperately seeking my first warbler, wheatear or hawking hirundine. Well, yesterday, I found them. A visit to East Chevington marked by the sight of my earliest ever House Martin; glossy, lovely and circling over the choppy water in the company of three Sand Martin. Further exploration of the coast here revealing five Avocet at Cresswell, and both Ruff and Chiffchaff at Druridge Pools. Spring has sprung it would seem, though I am going to miss the swans, geese and thrushes.

An honourable mention this week goes to the long-staying Pacific Diver at Chevington – showing well and looking smart, as usual – and sightings of Water Rail, Barn Owl, Grey Partridge and a particularly showy Kestrel.

Birding aside, natures newly invigored pulse has manifested itself in other forms elsewhere. In the form of my first Red-Tailed Bumblebee, Marmalade Hoverflies, wasps and radiant Peacock butterflies. The garden pond too continuing to delight; rippling and bubbling with the amorous antics of Common Frogs – spawning, mating and croaking incessantly. I have seen toads too and my first Smooth Newt of 2017 – consuming the ample spawn left floating and destitute in my small garden. Each of these fascinating sights standing testament to the period of extensive change soon to descend.

My year looks set to get better quite soon; with university winding down ahead of thesis season and the weather permitting an increasing number of countryside forays. I cannot wait and intend to make the most of each and every moment I can snatch in the outdoors over coming weeks.

Lovers embrace

Writing for Northumberland Wildlife Trust

For the select few readers of this blog who also follow me on social media, you may have noticed that I recently volunteered my services as a would-be nature writer to Northumberland Wildlife Trust. With the organisation, following a couple of very friendly and supportive meetings, gladly accepting my offer.

For the foreseeable future, I will be contributing regular blog posts to the NWT website under a self-titled column; one focused entirely on the wonderful sights to be seen around my home county. Hopefully, highlighting the wealth of wildlife to be seen at Wildlife Trust sites around the region – with over 60 to choose from, I may well be busy – but also giving mention to accessibility. All in the hope of encouraging people to get out and about and visit the sites that have enthralled me since childhood. Stay tuned for posts regarding Druridge Pools and East Chevington, sites most regional naturalists know very well, but also writing regarding less publicised sites – hidden gems such as Big Waters, Prestwick Carr and Holywell Pond. My first post, centred on Northumberlandia, can be found here.

While writing for the blog, I will also be contributing articles to the trusts regional magazine: Roebuck. A fantastic document released quarterly to NWT members which touches upon everything from local conservation to seasonal wildlife. I am, of course, very excited to contribute to the magazine, and my posts here will take a similar tone to the above; focussed on the wildlife to be seen on NWT reserves. The only difference, in this case, being a greater focus on more elusive or underappreciated species – butterflies, moths, beetles and botanicals.

I am very grateful to the trust for the chance to better my writing skills and, of course, am delighted at the exposure set to be gained from such. More importantly, however, I am thrilled to find myself actively promoting my own region and its fantastic wildlife. At the very least, I hope that someone, somewhere, will be encouraged to experience a new place or a seek out a new species as a result. Who knows!

Metamorphosis

There has been an intermediate feel in the air of late; as Winter begins to release its frigid grip on the landscape and the welcome rejuvenation of Spring begins. Birdsong, amorous amphibians, butterflies and bursting buds marking the start of the new season while loitering relics of Winter remain very much apparent. It has all been rather wonderful, and I, for one, very much enjoy this time of the year. The sight and sound of nature as old yields to the new, utterly enthralling, at least for those, like me, beginning to grow weary of the chill.

This week has seen a number of firsts brought about by the tepid weather and advancing calendar; not least the sight of spawning frogs. With a grand total of fourteen descending on my small garden pond – depositing their spawn in a rowdy scrum of flailing legs and hormonal calling. The pond now jampacked with conspicuous globules of eggs – sure to give rise to a bumper crop of tadpoles as the season advances. Testament to the value of such humble places for our embattled amphibians.

Frogs aside, this week also saw my first Peacock butterfly of the year – making the most of the late Winter sun amid the blooms of a nearby garden – while other invertebrates are also on the wing. Wasps, hoverflies, White-Tailed Bumblebees and a number of small, brown, unidentifiable moths all appearing as if from nowhere in the house, in the garden, in the wood and elsewhere around the local area.

Change is clearly afoot in the local avian community too; marked by the resurgence of Goosander and Grey Wagtail on the local river – species too long absent from the confines of my local patch. The resident Dippers are nesting, tucked away beneath the crumbling arch of a nearby bridge; while the wood finds itself positively abuzz with the singing of lustful passerines. Robin, Blackbird and Great tit, the species who have sung since January, now joined by the undulating notes of Goldcrest and the flutey tones of Song Thrush. Five of which were noted in full song during my last foray into the depths of Half-Penny.

A trip into the uplands at the weekend was also characterised by the sights and sounds of change; the most obvious of which coming from the Lapwings. Their shrill calls carrying far and wide over the windswept heath, joined, at times, by the sound of Curlew, fresh in from the coast. With the presence of Golden Plover back on their traditional breeding territories not going unnoticed either, though all of these soon fell into insignificance upon the sight of three Black Grouse – one male and two females – foraging at close quarters in a roadside field. Not a sight particularly representative of Spring but an enjoyable one nevertheless.

As I mentioned in the opening paragraph of this Spring-inspired ramble; species most often associated with Winter remain very much in evidence also. Pochard on a number of local lakes – a rare sight in present day Northumberland – and no end of Pink-Footed Geese, Goldeneye and mergansers. The nearby bay pebble-dashed with the silhouettes of  Red-Throated Diver, Common Scoter, Guillemot and Razorbill; all yet to depart for their Summer abodes. Though it cannot be long now and here too, on the sea, the signs of Spring abound. An increase in the number of Gannets a clear sign of things to come, and the return of Lesser Black-Backed Gulls to the surf most welcome.

All in all, this week has been an enjoyable one; characterised by a wave of fresh life and mounting anticipation for the joys to come as the year trundles on. I look forward to warmer days full to the brim with swallows, wheatears and Summer warblers, but, for now, am happy to revel in the fluid, dynamic fortnight before the true Spring begins.

Nurturing New Nature

Before Christmas, while mulling over the idea of starting a youth nature magazine, I did not expect such to ever become reality. Three months back, I would not have dared dream that my idea would ever take shape or that, with the help of a team of gifted young writers, we could produce something others would find both enjoyable and actively beneficial. Well, it looks like I was wrong; at least if this recent post by the ever-inspiring Dara McAnulty is anything to go by.

As we approach our third issue, New Nature looks to be going from strength to strength; with each of the volunteers working on the magazine inundated daily with emails of support, pitches and offers of assistance. All of which are greatly appreciated. The support and advice we have received thus far – from conservation NGOs, societies and individuals young and old – have left us thoroughly reassured. Both in the sense that we, as a group, are capable of producing something worth reading, and that we are doing exactly what we intended to do from the start: supporting, promoting and emboldening the next generation of British naturalists. Yes, we are only a magazine (a virtual one for the time being) but it looks as if people feel there is both a niche and need for this sort of thing. Hooray!

The success of the magazine to date – downloaded over 7000 times already – has set me to thinking. My spare time (and that of Alex, Alice, Alysia and Emily) now occupied by brainstorming as we contemplate just how we can advance the project in the future. Much of which, ultimately, comes down to the prospect of getting New Nature published in print at some point  – though we are aware this takes viewing figures and financial clout beyond what we possess at present. It is, however, an aim of ours and we hope to take steps to provide a print version of the magazine in the future.

Obviously, there are questions about how we would fund such an endeavour; especially as we believe that New Nature should be entirely free to read and enjoy. Something which, in itself, seems incompatible with our hopes of getting the magazine into print; although stranger things have happened and I would love, one day, to use the magazine to generate funds. Perhaps via sponsorship, perhaps through donations, or maybe through a mixture of both. Not so the team can make money – both myself and the girls are content to do this on a voluntary basis – but to cover the costs of the website, promotion and so forth. But also, and much more importantly, to reinvest in our incredibly diligent young contributors. Paying contributors may not seem feasible, at present, but I would love to be able to provide prizes, fund adventures and contribute towards important projects undertaken by young people. It is all very pie in the sky at present, in truth, but given the overwhelmingly positive response to the magazine so far, I suspect that with a little graft on our part, and maybe some luck, we may be able to make this happen. And thus encourage young people to do more than just write.

Whatever route we go down in the future; whether we stick to virtual realm or set out sights higher, I feel there is great scope to develop New Nature. To transform the project into something that actively benefits young people; on par or perhaps in cahoots with other wonderfully supportive organisations. It has certainly been rewarding to hear your views on the magazine so far and I would be delighted to receive any advice regarding how we can grow and expand in the future. Please get in touch, but more importantly, please continue to share the magazine with other like-minded people. Tweet it, blog it, email it to your colleagues; it is only with your support that we can make this work, sustain the project and, I hope, meet our aspirations of giving a voice to young nature lovers long into the future.

You can stay up to date with New Nature on Twitter, Facebook and on our website.

Snatching some wild respite

The last few weeks have been manic; jam-packed with university assignments and other, more menial, tasks. All of which, combined, have greatly impacted upon my ability to get outside and enjoy the sort of things I usually do at this time of year. It has all been rather frustrating in truth, and may well have proved somewhat depressing had it not been for a spontaneous outing this weekend past. A scarce free morning finding myself and the significant other darting off to Druridge Bay for a morning of wild respite.

The morning started well, the sounds of Spring filling our ears as we wandered aimlessly about the woodland that fringes Ladyburn lake; robin, great tit, greenfinch and goldfinch in full song from their respective, denuded perches. The experience here amplified by the sharp, chortling, call of a nearby willow tit and, better still, the sight of two kingfisher perched in close proximity amid the branches of a haggard waterside alder. Sapphire tones alive in the late Winter sun and content to watch as we ambled by. A good start.

Moving on to the lake itself and the usual suspects – tufted duck, coot and goldeneye – were starkly apparent; the sight of a small group of pochard amid the flotilla uplifting given their rapid and glaring decline in the county. The red-headed ones taking a backseat, on this occasion, however, as a familiar figure surfaced amid their ranks: the pacific diver. Not the target of todays venture following numerous visits over the past month but nice to see regardless. The close views obtained more than sufficient to highlight the various ID features of the rather delightful bird; one which we enjoyed in solitude for twenty minutes before it flew off South. Only to emerge moments later on East Chevington.

The feeders at the visitor centre were typically busy; with eight tree sparrows the highlight here amid the assembled ranks of the local tits and finches. Our pitstop proceeded by a leisurely stroll to Chevington where a small flock of scaup amused on the North pool. Further scanning later revealing a slavonian grebe – always a pleasure –  as well as a further eight pochard. The seasonal feel continuing here too; with eighteen black-tailed godwit passing speedily overhead (on route to their breeding grounds, perhaps) and the near constant passage of pink-footed geese; all heading North with some haste. Our time here accompanied the whole time by the sound of singing reed bunting which, in the weeks to come, will surely be joined by grasshopper warblers, sedgies and cuckoo fresh from Africa. I cannot wait.

Heading home; the beach at the burn mouth thronged with Twite – 95 to be precise – each making use of the grain supplied by some kindly local birders. The shorelarks were present too, albeit a little further out, and a total of eight skylarks ascended from the sand dunes to sing their merry tune above our heads. A sound which evokes warmer days, blooming wildflowers and emergent insects, and one that I hold incredibly close to heart.

Excluding a rather painful (and comical) encounter with some brambles towards the end of our trip, we enjoyed a nice day at Druridge. Now back to those pesky assignments…

Gull cull? No thanks

The last few days have seen an infuriating surge in the rhetoric of those calling for the control of Britain’s gulls; as campaigners clamour for the lethal action, red-faced MP’s bluster and the national press embarks on yet another misinformed wildlife witch-hunt. It has all been rather depressing, at least for those, like me, rather fond of our gulls. The situation made even worse by the horrendously bias coverage of the issue on television; by shows such as Good Morning Britain who appear content to make light of the situation and further inflame tensions, doubtless to the detriment of our wildlife.

Yes, tuning into ITV this morning – as I do most days – I was left appalled by the incredibly one-sided coverage of the issue by GMB. The relevant segment, presented by Ben Shepard and Susanna Reid (thank the lord Piers was not involved) and including an interview with Oliver Colvile MP, serving little other than to vilify our gulls through the endless use of scaremongering language, incriminating footage and unnecessary exaggeration. With said MP apparently forgetting that all gulls, as opposed to simply the Herring Gull, as stated, are protected to a varying degree by British law; and Susanna painting the natural process of predation – on this occasion between a gull and a sparrow – as some sort of grossly offensive crime. The whole segment was preposterous, in truth,

Given the level of coverage the gull issue has received of late, you would be forgiven for thinking that it represents one of the great wildlife management conflicts of modern times. And for believing the antics of gulls, particularly the larger species contained within the Larus genus,  paramount to those of other problem species;  to rabbits, rats and badgers that attribute to a significant amount of economic damage each year. Or perhaps  to invasive mink or squirrels, both highly detrimental to conservation efforts. They are not, and our grievance with gulls stems from little other than ignorance and mild inconvenience, as opposed to necessity. Our dislike of these birds born of human laziness and a reluctance to coexist with another successful, adaptive species. For this reason, I find the proposed cull of gulls utterly offensive.

There is no doubt in my mind that humans are directly responsible for the gull problem; by providing them with ample opportunity to misbehave. Something we achieve through our tendency to leave rubbish outside or place it in land-fill, providing an irresistible food source for gulls left hungry due to the continued human depletion of natural resources and the erosion of traditional habitats. The same applies when it comes to direct contact with the birds themselves: with many people content to offer titbits to hungry gulls when approached and others going actively out of their way to do so, thus habituating the birds to our usually frightening presence. Is it little wonder then that they return for more? Or that this behaviour has become widespread as more and more animals learn to exploit a new, inexhaustible food source? Surely this is common sense, or perhaps that is just me?

If you have not gathered already, I quite like gulls: big ones, small ones, rare ones, common ones, it matters not. To me, the piercing vocalisation of gulls is the quintessential sound of our seaside, and now, our cites. One I am content to revel in, and seldom annoyed by – a trend not shared by the residents of some urban areas it would seem. Though noise is hardly an appropriate reason to sanction a government lead cull, in my opinion; and those voicing such could easily save themselves the ear-ache by investing in double-glazing, or perhaps some earplugs.

My own, personal love of gulls is not, however, the reason I find myself opposed to the idea of a cull. No, that stems from the nature of Britain’s gull populations – with species such as Herring Gull and Lesser Black-Back, two of the more problematic species, currently declining at an alarming rate. So much so that both species now find themselves of conservation concern; with Herring Gulls removed from governments flawed general license for that very reason. The killing of gulls in our cities, or indeed, the proposed destruction of nests – as advocated by the not so honourable Oliver Colvile – would surely place yet more pressure on these already embattled populations; leading to further declines in the future. This cannot be allowed, and it does not take a genius to see that any such move would be folly.

What is the answer to our gull problem? Well, I do not quite know; though a change in human behaviour would be a step in the right direction. We need to clean up our towns and cities, invest in humane deterrents and, for gods sake, stop the deliberate sharing of food. More importantly, however, we need to adopt a more tolerant mindset – something regularly preached in regards to people but often forgotten when it comes to wildlife. Gulls, much like pigeons, are one of the few, hardy, creatures able to adapt to life in the present day – where natural habitats find themselves replaced by the endless sprawl of concrete and habitation.  A fact which should be celebrated; not condemed.

Header Image: Michael Mulqueen licensed under Flickr Creative Commons

Birding Northumberland Absent Wheels: January

The year start on a characteristically chipper note; my annual 1st of January foray with Sacha kicking off the year list with a decent 84 species. Though not before a dawn wander around my local patch – the Blyth Estuary – saw the usual commodities, Robins and what not, added in droves. Back with Sacha and the highlights of the day comprised ringtail Hen Harrier at Low Newton, 6 Shorelark at East Chevington, drake Pintail on Druridge Pools and a superb Peregrine on my old patch at Widdrington. Stag Rocks proved exciting, as always, with a dozen Long-Tailed Ducks close to shore in the company of the usual Red-Throated Divers, Guillemots and Common Scoter; while a mixed flock of Twite and Linnet fed in the nearby game-cover during the duration of our stay. Kittiwake and Gannet, provided nice winter ticks here, with Red-Breasted Merganser and Eider also new, though our attentions soon wandered and we set off South; noting Whooper Swans at Chevington and Woodhorn, Tree Sparrow and Little Egret at Cresswell and, finally, a flock of 8 Goosander at QEII County Park.

The ensuing week provided little of note on the run up to the county bird race; a juvenile Iceland Gull on patch at North Blyth the only exception to the rule. With Rock Pipit, Dipper, Grey Plover and Razorbill likewise new around the local area. The bird race proved much more exciting; a fantastic day out with Jack, Dan and Michael ending in victory with an impressive tally of 120 species. The highlights of the day including the discovery of a Glaucous Gull at Warkworth, a drake Scaup on East Chevington, White-Fronted Goose and Spotted Redshank at Budle Bay, Slavonian Grebe and Great Northern Diver at Stag Rocks and the Iceland Gull again at Blyth. Early morning found us adding not one but two Barn Owls near Bedlington, followed by Woodcock, Red Grouse and Tawny Owl further North; while belated year ticks included Kingfisher at Cullercoats, Pochard at Widdrington, Grey Partridge, Great Crested Grebe, Purple Sandpiper and Mediterranean Gull. A trio of Tundra Bean Geese at Hemscott Hill were also nice to see – a long overdue county tick for this limping Northumbrian birder – and a Chiffchaff near Amble came as somewhat of a suprise.

Outings over the following week were scant due to university, though a day out on the 12th with Jack came up trumps with distant views of the Cheswick Black Scoter and, towards dusk, Great Grey Shrike and Willow Tit at Prestwick Carr. The next tick coming on the 21st with exceptional views of Druridge Bay Pacific Diver as it fished on Ladyburn Lake, mere meters from amassed ranks of its admirers. Water Rail was likewise new here while a Willow Tit and an impressive flock of c100 Siskin entertained on route home. The next day finding me picking up Little Owl at Blyth Links and Brambling at Northumberlandia – the latter conveniently landing outside the window during a meeting with Northumberland Wildlife Trust.

The month wound to a close with the sight of 17 Ring-Necked Parakeets roosting in Newcastle – a queer sight up here in the North but one I suspect we will be seeing more of. A later trip around Morpeth allowed for the addition of Marsh Tit and Green Woodpecker – both difficult county birds in my opinion – while the female Black Redstart was finally unearthed at North Blyth. Two separate Waxwing encounters were also had this week; with c60 at Bedlington and a smaller group of 3 at Exhibition Park, Newcastle.

As it stands, January ends on a respectable (for a full-time student who does not drive) 136 species. My biggest omissions coming from Lesser Redpoll and Velvet Scoter; and some frustrating misses including Bittern, Short-Eared Owl, Long-Eared Owl and Merlin. The latter of which being the only one I am particularly worried about, for now at least.

Now that is why I go birding

Yesterday found me bound for North Yorkshire, for the second time in less than a week. The intended target of this particular jaunt; the rather eye-catching male Pine Bunting that has been thrilling (and frustrating) spectators for quite some time on the outskirts of Dunnington. A bird which, after an uncomfortable four-hour stay, we laid eyes only briefly; for all of thirty seconds before it disappeared, once again, into the stubble of a nearby field. Not exactly fair recompense for a day spent frozen in place, battered by the wind and perpetually frustrated by a number of misidentifications and near-misses, some may say. I would say differently, however.

With a grand total of nine hours spent staring at the same, rather uninspiring, patch of hedgerow, the Pine Bunting twitch was not a comfortable one. Neither was it consistently enjoyable. It did, however, remind me exactly why I dedicate so much time to the pursuit of our feathered friends. The burst of elation upon actually seeing the bird and the ensuing adrenaline rush quickly banishing the negative thoughts accumulated throughout the day. The sight of the bunting attributing to a gratifying sense of victory; a reward bestowed based on patience and previous exertion. The giddy feeling of delight, the kind that bubbles up when you finally track down your long-awaited quarry: that is why I go birding. The ascetics of the bird itself an added bonus, on this occasion, though this is not always the case.

Of course, there is more to the hobby than the birds themselves and, for me, the places play their part too. From idyllic areas of rural wilderness to sites of urban sprawl, each venture brings something new and unfamiliar. I have, of course, been to many beautiful places in search of birds – from the rugged highlands of Scotland to no end of gusty headlands – yet places such as Dunnington, humble and unassuming, appeal equally. Yesterday’s venture complete with no end of additional sightings; from yellowhammers feeding in urban gardens to tree sparrows, stock doves and, on a more exciting note, a good few Corn Bunting. All of which, at times, fed together in one enormous flock on the town’s edge – a new experience for me and an unprecedented delight to see so many red list birds in one place. A place that I would not necessarily venture too absent cause that was discovered and thus, enjoyed, due to one particular bird.

And then there are the people. While many favour birding for the solitude it can bring – there is nothing wrong with this – I am not one of them. I love the people the hobby brings me into contact with: the locals, the birders, the curious onlookers and the one guy who always gets too close to the bird. For me, each new bird presents a new social occasion; one where you may laugh and joke with friends – such was the case yesterday during the prolonged bouts of nothingness – and share experiences with other like-minded individuals. Of course, I dislike the egotistical listing talk that breaks out sporadically at any such event – comparing numbers is not for me – but for every one such person, there are fifty more willing to divulge useful tips and exciting stories. I learn equally as much listening to birders as I do watching birds, and yesterday trip was no exception.

There are, of course, myriad more reasons why I, personally, go birding. Among these; the constant reassurance provided by a post-dip McDonalds stands foremost among them, though this post gives a good idea of my main motivations. Yesterday’s twitch set my mind to thinking it seems; the experience warranting some thought as to why I engage in a hobby that other people think mad. Well, I believe I have answered that internal question.

Header image: Pine Bunting, courtesy of Francesco Vernosl, Flickr Creative Commons.

 

A quick life update

I have been rather quiet on this blog recently, at least by my usual vocal standards. I can assure you that this is because I have been incredibly busy – with work, writing and university – and not because my interest has waned. For those who follow this blog loyally (to my surprise, there are a few) and for those who actually possess some sort of interest in what I get up to, here is a quick update of recent happenings in the world of James…

  1. Masters degree. I have enjoyed some fabulous lectures of late, including enthralling (and eye-opening) talks from the likes of GWCT and Natural England, and am currently engrossed in my favourite module to date: policy and licensing. I have also secured some time on the fabulous Farne Islands to carry out my postgraduate thesis and, quite frankly, I cannot wait!
  2. Squirrels – I am continuing my voluntary work with my local Red Squirrel action group. Work which centres, specifically, on the control of greys in my local area. This is not an enjoyable task but it is rewarding; more so given the continued presence of Reds in the area.
  3. Other voluntary work – Following a recent meeting with some wonderful representatives from Northumberland Wildlife Trust, I have scheduled a second meeting with their marketing team in the coming weeks. It looks like I am going to be gaining some experience in communications in the future, while also helping out, where I can, with their social media and publishing efforts.
  4. New Nature – the magazine is ticking over nicely. We have recently taken on a voluntary web editor and are all set to publish our second issue on February 6th; with fabulous contributions from a host of talented young writers and some more familiar faces. Please stay tuned.
  5. Writing. Nothing published of late, sadly; though I have send off some pitches. I was, however, lucky enough to be featured in The Countryman today. Specifically, in a fine article by the magazines editor entitled “The New Young Naturalists” – Please check it out.
  6. Curlew. To date, I have raised a total of £435 for the BTO’s Curlew Appeal and will be partaking in the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge later this year, while attempting to raise more money along the way. I have also managed to quit smoking (well, vaping) and am starting to feel like the process may not actually be the death of me…

I do hope it all pays off in the end…