After a pretty tedious day of rain, menial work and more rain, I was delighted to receive two loads of good news this evening. The first coming from my University who kindly informed me that I received 71% for my final taught Masters module. This grade taking me to within striking distance of an overall distinction should my thesis go to plan. More exciting, however, was the news that I have been shortlisted in the something different category of the Northern Blogger Awards 2017.
The event itself takes place in Manchester during September and promises – due in no small part to the free booze and grub – to be a blast. Bringing together social influencers, media personalities and, of course, bloggers from across Northern England, the event looks set to be a snazzy one and, in a similar theme to the Living North awards I found myself lucky enough to attend last year, it looks as if I am going to have to unfurl my best suit for another outing.
I am incredibly grateful to whoever it was that nominated me for said award and win or lose, I am delighted to be considered alongside the popular figures in my category. I do not (and have never) considered myself an influencer nor do I profess to do anything other than waffle about nature on this blog, thus I am honoured to have been considered.
Having recently purchased a new moth trap only to break the bulb while unpacking it, I was delighted when my replacement arrived yesterday. This meaning that, for the first time this year, I could kick-back in the garden and engross myself in some local Lepidoptera. Well, this didn’t go exactly to plan – heavy rain hampering my efforts after a meagre two hours – though, with 71 moths of 21 separate species languishing in the trap this morning, it could have gone much worse.
The star of the show when it came time to unpack the trap this morning was undoubtedly the superb Ruby Tiger Phragmatobia fuliginosa pictured above. A rather sumptuous looking moth boasting outlandish crimson underwings, and a real favourite of mine. Not a scarce species, by any standards, but a nice one to see in my urban backyard. Of its winged counterparts also nestled within the trap, a Barred Yellow Cnidaria fulvata was also nice to see; while a couple of Bordered White Bupalus piniaria were new for the garden list. The most numerous species obtained were, as ever, the Large Yellow Underwings Noctua pronuba which, typically, burst out in a flurry of frantic buzzing as soon as I lifted the lid. Much to the delight of my cat which soon set off (unsuccessfully) in pursuit of the escapees.
I look forward to trapping more frequently throughout the Summer, and in doing so, uncovering, further, the wealth of unseen life dwelling within my garden.
Double Square-spot, Barred Yellow, Dark Arches, Ruby Tiger, Bee Moth and Small Fan-foot
Otherwise known as the New Garden Bumblebee, the Tree Bumblebee Bombus hypnorum is one of my favourite garden visitors. A pleasant figment of Spring and Summer which I look forward to observing each year. Boasting a distinct pattern of alternating orange, black and white, B. hypnorum is a familiar sight in urban areas where it is commonly encountered foraging amid garden blooms (ours particularly enjoy Raspberry) or occupying bird boxes placed out for the local blue tits – indeed, these feisty bees have even been known to evict tits from their chosen box.
A relatively new arrival to Britain, the species was first observed in 2001 close to the village of Landford in Wiltshire and has since spread across the length and breadth of England, recently reaching both Scotland and Wales. It’s globetrotting nature further confirmed by the occurrence of the species in Iceland during 2008 – where it has now been confirmed breeding annually since colonisation.
Identification: the colour pattern of B. hypnorum is unique among British bee species. Look out for a tawny (ginger) or reddish thorax and a black and white tail. Unlike other bee species, queen, worker and drone tree bumblebees all look similar in appearance; with drones (male bees) roughly double the size of an average Honey Bee boasting blunter ends to their abdomens and longer antennae. Queens are easily recognised by their large size; though this is known to vary substantially.
Interesting fact: if you have bees nesting inside your tumble dryer or any other piece of household equipment, this is likely the culprit. There are several cases of these so-called tumble dryer colonies reported in the UK each year, usually inside the vent pipe side arm where the fluff from our clothes makes for handy nesting material. These colonies can be pesky and despite not posing a danger, may need to be removed. It is best to call a professional in order to do this, however, as, like other bees, B. hypnorum is known to ferociously defend its nest sites.
Image: Tree Bumblebee – Charles Sharp, licensed under Flickr Creative Commons (here)
Though I started off well, my #30DaysWild posts seem to have faded over the past few weeks. This due to some wild commitments elsewhere – blog post to follow shortly – and not due to laziness or disinterest. Despite this, and in keeping with the theme of the month, I have persisted in my efforts to do something a little wild every day, and in doing so, have found myself face to face with some truly remarkable wildlife. From nocturnal wonders and scarce birdlife to butterflies, flowers and some rather cool fish, the highlights of the last fortnight can be found in this post.
Nocturnal Antics
Just over a week ago, I set off for a secluded plantation in inland Northumberland: arriving at the site just after 9 pm and spending a few hours engrossing myself in the best of the British nighttime. By this, of course, I mean Nightjars – with a total of three individuals seen during my stay. Among these, a particularly obliging bird which showed marvellously, singing its otherworldly song from the top of a quivering spruce. This encounter marking only my second experience of this species and easily my most enjoyable: the sight and sound of the elusive bird standing out not just as a highlight of the year, but of my entire birding career to date. They really are fantastic!
Of course, Nightjars were not all to be seen here, and during our stay, we were lucky enough to catch up with Tawny Owl, Woodcock, Crossbill and Cuckoo: with the equally enthralling sound of a drumming Snipe heard as we made our way back to the car. I should head out at night more often… *pens plan for future blog posts*
Chance encounters
Although there has not been much time to chase rarities of late, I have managed three targeted jaunts this week. The first taking me to an unassuming pond not far from my house where, to my delight, a drake Ruddy Duck loafed on the water just out from my position by the road. The duck, blue-billed and clad head to toe in glorious rust-coloured feathers, representing a species I have never before seen in Britain which, despite its controversial nature – they are, after all, subject to a government lead cull at present – was enjoyed to its fullest potential. Who knows, it may well be the only Ruddy Duck I see in the UK anytime soon.
The other two outings mentioned focused on some less polarising residents- Black-Necked Grebe and Quail – both of which were seen (or at least, heard in the case of the latter) within the local area; thus adding a welcome touch of spice to my usually tame summer birding.
Ruddy Duck – excuse the dreadful phone image
Pastures new
The most recent of my explorations found me venturing to a new site in Northern Northumberland: into the mosaic of fields and hedgerows that surround the site at which we now keep our three horses. Ever critical of farmland – at least the plowed, poisoned empty deserts that exist in some places – I was pleasantly surprised to find the area teeming with life. Here a superb Yellow Wagtail was observed carrying food towards a hidden nest and a pair of Redstart could be seen feeding young inside a cavity. Both fabulous birds that I do not see half as often as I would like. The pleasant feel of the day amplified by sightings of a bounding Brown Hare, the song of countless Skylark and an up-close and personal encounter with a rather confiding Buzzard. Birds and mammals were not, however, the highlight of my time here: that honour going to the butterflies who, spurred on by the sweltering Summer sun, had emerged in abundance.
Here my first Meadow Browns and Ringlets of the year fluttered lazily across the grassy banks lining a small stream and both Wall and Small Tortoiseshell were noted sunning themselves on scant areas of bare rock. Numbers bolstered by the occasional occurrence of Large and Green-veined White and a very breif Speckled Wood. The best coming towards the end of my jaunt, where no less than twelve Large Skippers were unearthed along one particular field boundary. A delightful, energetic butterfly and one of my all time favourites – a pleasure to observe and enjoy in such bright and beautiful conditions.
Sensational Seabirds
As many diligent blog readers may know, I have spent the last few weeks marooned on the fantastic Farne Islands. Enjoying the clamour of a sprawling seabird colony as I endevor to complete my master’s dissertation. Well, I will focus on this at greater length in a future blog post though earlier this week – and thanks to a kind offer from Liz Morgan – I was able to help out with some proper seabird monitoring. Specifically, the ringing of Shag chicks to provide data for Liz’s PhD project. Words truly fail me when trying to sum up this experience: it was both a pleasure and privilege to see these serpentine seabirds up close and, despite leaving covered head to toe in putrid excrement, I departed with a huge smile on my face. I many be studying Puffins for my thesis but it seems that it is the islands Shags that have stolen the limelight.
Otherwise known as yellow flag, water flag, yellow iris, sword-grass and lever, Iris pseudacorus is a rather lovely botanical. A prominent feature of pond margins, ditches and other damp areas across much of Britain, this radiant iris adds a touch of glamour to soggy areas nationwide. The plant – growing up 1.5 meters in height – a personal favourite of mine since childhood; since I first took it upon myself to transplant a specimen into my garden pond, much to the delight of the various pollinators inhabiting my small yard.
Thought by some to be the original fleur-de-lis – a common symbol of medieval heraldry; the daffodil-like yellow blooms of I. pseudacorus, with their sickly sweet scent, provide an irresistible draw to a whole manner of pollinating insects – from bees to hoverflies – while the elongated leaves provide food for the larvae of the aptly named Iris Sawfly Rhadinoceraea micans. All of which goes without mentioning the valuable cover provided by the densely packed foliage and sprawling roots of this waterside species – perfect for amphibians, fish and aquatic insects seeking cover in an effort to avoid the gaze of nearby predators. The iris is a superb addition to any wildlife garden; while also looking rather exquisite, particularly in the Summer sun.
The human uses for I. pseudacoru, traditionally, include the use of the rhizome as a herbal remedy – most often as an emetic; while the plant in its entirety is commonly used as a form of water treatment. With its roots able to take in heavy metals and toxins that would quickly kill other aquatic vegetation. It’s ability to grow in waters boasting a low Ph level also make it a useful indicator of water quality and ecosystem health.
Fact: the wavering flowers of the iris were once thought to resemble flags blowing in the breeze, hence the name “yellow flag”.
Folklore: According to legend, Clovis was the first person to adorn his clothes with iris heraldry. Later becoming the king of the Franks, he was responsible for forcibly evicting the Romans from Northern Gaul, thus establishing the yellow flag as a symbol of Frankish pride. Louis VII would later wear similar heraldry in his crusade against the Saracens.
Like any self-respecting nature lover, the idea of wildlife gardening has always appealed to me. By nature, I want to do my bit to provide wildlife with a home and in doing so, conserve the various critters with whom I share my local area. A noble idea that many, thankfully, commit to, though one that has proven somewhat difficult for me. The fact I share my garden with younger siblings keen to utilise the limited space for sunbathing and play respectively, and a parent altogether fond of the stereotypical urban gravel/grass monoculture. Indeed, to date, my attempts to rewild our small patch earth have met with frowns and disapproval – especially when I took it upon myself to plant weeds along the margins of my mothers neat and tidy lawn. Not that I, personally, class teasel as a weed…
Well, fast forward a few months and I am making leeway. I have reached an agreement with my family where the back portion of our garden, a small 5 x 8 meter stretch of gravel (complete with a trampoline and a summerhouse I must add) is mine to do with as I please. Seizing upon this, and in an attempt to increase biodiversity around my home, I have made a few much-needed amendments. Among these: a small pond, a large flowering currant bush, a compost heap, a miniature rockery, and, as of today, a number of planters installed to act as a makeshift meadow. The latter planted with red valerian pilfered from an abanonded garden and a seed mix consisting of cornflower, knapweed, tansy and other lovelies. My initial efforts, while looking wonderfully messy, can be seen below.
While I will undoubtedly have to wait some time for the meadow to begin yielding fruit, I have, however, made a concerted effort to record the species venturing into my little wild space of late, and surprisingly, have reached a grand total of 71. This, of course, includes everything from common garden birds to colonising nettles and pondweed but also, some real gems. Common frogs have spawned in the pond this year, with a grand total of 12 adults observed on one day during the Spring. With these, smooth newts have also appeared and, perhaps more surprisingly, we also appear to have a resident toad. The latter taking a particular shine my younger brothers play house where, for the second consecutive day, he was photographed hiding amid the pillows. The small crack in the outside panels which allows slugs and woodlice entry (much to the horror of my brother) also providing the amphibian with an entry route should he find himself seeking comfort.
One of the greatest increases observed thus far in the garden has come from the invertebrates: the pond harbouring no end of common water slaters, pond skaters and vivid sun hoverflies, but also (as of today) my first large red damselflies – a pair seen copulating on a marigold leaf earlier this morning. The nearby flowering blackcurrant has also proven successful; providing pollen to visiting tree, white-tailed and garden bumblebees in addition to the odd peacock and red admiral butterflies. While speaking of butterflies, a fabulous painted lady was also observed today making the most of the aforementioned valerians. A nice follow-up to last years visiting hummingbird hawk-moth.
As expected, the addition of a compost heap too has worked wonders, particularly for snails: with white-lipped, strawberry and garden snails quick to colonise – alongside myriad slugs, millipedes and woodlice. Though more impressive is the addition of some new mammals to the garden list. With wood mouse and hedgehog new this year – both captured on a camera placed out to document the nocturnal inhabitants of the lawn. Alongside these, our fox maintains his usual pattern of visitation and pipistrelle bats continue to hawk over the lawn by night. Doubtless in search of moths.
Speaking of moths: a quick sweep with a net last night revealed a number of species – brimstone, garden carpet, light brown apple moth and silver ground carpet to name but a few – and with my new moth trap set for delivery tomorrow, the number of nocturnal beasties uncovered here looks set to increase markedly. The trap sure to aid in my efforts to document the wonders lying just outside of my unassuming front door. I will, of course, be blogging quite frequently about developments in the garden; as more species arrive and I spend an increasing amount of watching wildlife at home, as opposed to chasing it around far-flung areas of the country. Stay tuned, I hope I will have more to discuss in a short while.
I have been rather quiet on the blog of late, at least when compared to my usual, rather vocal self. This is due, at least in part, to poor internet reception at my current place of residence – the Farne Islands – but also due to an increasing workload. With my MSc Wildlife Management course reaching its conclusion and various other occurrences eating up my free time of late. Still, silence on the virtual front should not imply that things have been dull, and as it happens, things are ticking over rather nicely. Here is a short life update for those who regularly tune into this site…
Dissertation. I am currently working to complete my postgraduate thesis entitled Comparison of monitoring techniques used to predict Atlantic Puffin breeding density. This is taking place, as I mentioned earlier, on the fabulous Farne Islands – a site I have visited yearly since boyhood and one that I have come to wholeheartedly adore over the years. I have been made to feel most welcome by the National Trust rangers on the islands, and while I cannot disclose too much at this point, my project is going well. Spirits lifted further by the chance to observe some truly mesmerising wildlife in one of Britain’s most idyllic locations.
Fundraising. I am still in the process of fundraising for the BTO Curlew Appeal and my sponsored three peaks challenge will be taking place later in the Summer. For those looking to donate, I am now only £195 short of my personal £1000 target and remain optimistic that I can hit this prior to the event. Alongside friend and fellow conservationist Sacha Elliott, I will be giving a talk at Boldon Castle this weekend regarding my fondness for this species, our walk, and, of course, life as a relatively young environmentalist. I look forward to maybe seeing a few of you there.
Writing. While my blogging here has been minimal over the past fortnight, I continue to contribute to my regional wildlife column on the website of Northumberland Wildlife Trust. I also recently authored a rather lengthy piece about moths within my home county that will feature in the trust’s quarterly Roebuck magazine, very soon.
Social media. Having enjoyed a splendid tour with them last year – one in which I enjoyed an eclectic mix of regional specialities from Pine Martens and Ptarmagin to Red Deer and Bottlenose Dolphins – I am now managing the social media activity of UK Wildlife Safaris. It is a pleasure to join such a dedicated, enthusiastic team of ecologists and I would advise anyone to consider UKWS for the next holiday. At least if you are fond of great wildlife, food, lavish accommodation and surreal vistas. A write-up of our recent Mull trip can be found here.
New Nature. The youth nature magazine continues to go from strength to strength, bringing the thoughts and views of Britain’s young naturalists to an increasingly large audience. Our June issue is set for publication very soon, and I am currently in the process of recruiting a new Creative Director to help design the magazine and take us to new and exciting heights in the future.
As you can see, things have been wonderfully hectic recently. The above post going without mentioning the fabulous wildlife I have enjoyed of late, a small sample of which can be seen below. To say I am dreading the enevitable bout of post-university unemployement set to come my way very soon would be an understatement, though I am at least feeling optimistic given recent developments.
My attention was recently drawn to an interesting article authored for The Conversation by the esteemed and eloquent Dr Robert Lambert. Centred on the logic behind birding (or twitching, if you prefer), I found the piece highly interesting, both as a birder who spends a great deal of his time observing our feathered friends and as an individual intrigued by birdwatching culture. The article itself really was rather good, and I agree with many of the points stated; though, for me, the social media debate surrounding its publication was equally fascinating. With some choosing to criticise and others choosing to compliment based on the various points stated within. Well, to cut a long story short, this – coupled with a few queries from curious friends – got me thinking. Why exactly do I spend so much time and, in some cases money, in pursuit of rare birds?
My interesting in twitching is somewhat of a developing one: with long-distance trips and costly jaunts taking place more frequently now that they did in years prior. Why is this? Well, as Dr Lambert states, there are many reasons one may choose to pursue rare birds. There is, of course, a competitive element: with birders attempting to score points over their rivals and surpass them in ranking. While I do not profess to do this on a national scale, I am taking place in a “bird race” this year so I guess this applies, equally, to me. There is also the thrill of rarity itself; the buzz associated with observing the new and unfamiliar; something which, again, I feel applies to my own birding forays. I, like many others, certainly enjoy revelling in the sight of a new and intriguing bird species. There are, however, other arguably more important motivations underpinning my avian obsession.
Rare birds, while intriguing, are not always the most memorable feature of a twitch. No, for me, chasing rarities is only the beginning; and the thrill of a life on the move is of equal importance. Birding has a habit of taking you to some truly surreal locations – whether you are looking for eagles amid the sweeping vistas of the Cairngorms or searching for a dusky thrush Turdus eunomus amid the quaint stone houses of a quiet village in Derbyshire. These locations are always different and each boasts their own unique appeal; whether that be the chance to sample local food or drink (Caol IIa whisky springs to mind), the opportunity visit a new pub and engage with the locals, or the chance to engross yourself in natural spectacles far removed from your regular haunts. Indeed, on twitch earlier this year, I spent equal time enjoying large flocks of locally common farmland birds as I did our intended target, the Dunnington pine bunting Emberiza leucocephalos. For me, birding is paramount to wanderlust.
More important still, at least in my opinion, is the sense of community that comes with outing yourself as a birder. I am sure I speak for many people when I say that life for younger people boasting an interest in nature can often be a lonely and tedious affair – our interests met with indifference by some and outright ridicule by others. It can be frustrating at times and disheartening at others; though thankfully, the birding community is, for the large part, an incredibly supportive and caring fraternity. Sure, as with any hobby there are a few intolerable characters – those people you do your best to avoid amid the amassed crowd surrounding your chosen vagrant – but for each one of these there are ten more willing to offer advice, guidance, support and friendly chitchat; enough to lift the spirits of even the most downtrodden individual. I owe an awful lot my local birding network, the characters here in Northumberland that have nudged me in the right direction over the years, but also to groups such as Next Generation Birders for keeping my interests alive and preventing me from regressing to a more socially acceptable state. One that my peers at school would have preferred but I, myself, would have quietly hated.
At this point, the individual characters that make up the birding community are also worth a mention. As with any hobby, the sheer level of diversity here is great; ranging from the quirky, outspoken and cantankerous, to the incredibly genuine and accommodating. Those who will bend over backwards to make you feel at home. With so many personalities abounding, the likelihood of finding someone you “click with” in birding is substantial; and some of my greatest friends were first encountered amid the throng surrounding a wayward rarity. I am sure Sacha Elliot will not mind be saying that we met over a wryneck. Birding provides an opportunity to make the acquaintance of others; to bond and make life-long friends. Something which, in itself, far surpasses the importance of competition. Of course, these friends also add to the experience and come rain or shy, arduous ten-hour car journey or short walk to your local nature reserve, these people help make birding the wonderful affair it is.
To conclude: birding, for me, is about many things. It is about competition, the allure of rarity and, of course, the joy of experiencing nature first hand. It is, however, equally about a sense of belonging and friendship; about the people you meet and the laughs to be had. It is about post-twitch trips to the pub, communal meet-ups, carpools, inadvertant hilarity and the opportunity to enjoy surreal settings in the company of people you have come to know and trust. Birding, despite its name, is about a lot more than just birds. This is what I will tell those who ask in the future.
This stunning female Citrine Wagtail Motacilla citreola was at Lynemouth flash yesterday; a bird I have wanted to see in the UK ever since a chance encounter with my first, an adult male, in Estonia a few years past. My visit was not overly long – dissertation planning is taking up most of my time of late – but during the fifteen minutes or so I spent by the inconspicuous roadside pool, the bird showed wonderfully as it fed within a few metres of the various birders, photographers and curious locals assembled nearby. This marks my 196th bird species observed in Northumberland this year and stands out as the definitive highlight of the year thus far as I attempt to view as many species as possible in my home county within 2017. A personal quest which, this week, also took me to Catton Moss where a Short-Toed Lark (my first) showed wonderfully; and earlier, to Allen Banks where the local Wood Warblers and Pied Flycatchers put on a fine show in the radiant afternoon sun.
Have you heard of New Nature yet? Given the social media storm surrounding our launch and the positive feedback still appearing regularly on Twitter and Facebook, you may well have. If not, rest assured that there is still plenty of time to familiarise yourself with the magazine and the fabulous young naturalists, writers, scientists and ecologists who have helped bring it to life. And who continue to supply us with intriguing articles to be posted online, for your reading pleasure, each month.
The response to New Nature thus far has been nothing short of humbling. With the kind comments of environmental professionals, conservation organisations and, of course, young people allowing us to build up a modest social media presence and, more importantly, a large (and growing) reader base. From our initial feedback, it would seem that many feel we are living up to our initial aim: to promote, embolden and celebrate the myriad dedicated young people working to protect the natural world. And many more feel we have at least produced something eye-catching and enjoyable. This, of course, has left myself and the rest of the team smiling profusely.
With the magazine now in its fifth issue and more popular than ever, it is clear that we are doing something right. With a number of our young writers recently snapped up by paid publications and interest now filtering in from far larger and more renowned bodies, things are looking rosy; though it has not all been plain sailing and, at times, running the magazine has proven outright difficult. With myself and the rest of the team each squeezing in editing, admin and promotion where we can, between full-jobs, degrees, volunteer work and other pressing personal commitments. It has been difficult to stay on top of things; difficult to maintain the high standard set by our first issue and even more difficult to keep up with the plethora of emails, tweets and Facebook messages from aspiring contributors, supporters and external bodies. We are managing, however, and intend to keep managing for as long as we can.
The fifth issue of New Nature has been one of my favourites to date. Perhaps this is due to the fabulous photography included within – including our cover image by the incredibly talented Oscar Dewhurst – or perhaps this is down to the articles. With this month’s interview, featuring the wonderful Lucy McRobert, certainly one of our more memorable to date. Instead of me waffling about it, however, please take a look for yourselves here: goo.gl/N94fUC
For those (under 30) looking to contribute to New Nature you can contact the editorial team at: editorial.newnature@gmail.com – we would be delighted to hear from you.
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
