Winter Stores

It was not long after I had discarded on to the lawn, the rather ‘tired’ looking peanuts from the bird feeder and refilled it with fresh nuts, when a flash of white, pink and dazzling blue landed in the apple tree. It was a handsome jay and with sharp black eyes it surveyed the scene before ‘bouncing’ down onto the lawn.

I watched through binoculars from the kitchen window as it quickly gulped a number of whole peanuts before flying off.  Within twenty minutes the bird returned and this time I counted the number of peanuts it swallowed: sixteen, the last two could still be seen gripped in its partly open bill. I threw out another handful of peanuts and over the next hour the bird made a further five visits, the last two hampered by the bullying tactics of a pair of magpies. Nonetheless, I estimated that this bird, about the same size as a jackdaw and certainly the most colourful of our corvids, collected over sixty peanuts in total!!  The maximum I counted in a single visit was twenty! I could have sworn that I could see its cheeks and throat bulging with the nuts and subsequent investigation revealed that the bird does in fact have a sublingual pouch in which they store and carry food.

The jay is mainly a bird of woodlands and not a common bird in my garden with usually only one or two sightings annually but this year with the poor acorn crop, their main food source, they have become a frequent visitor to many gardens. No doubt the peanuts have been stashed safely underground - hopefully, to be retrieved in leaner times over the coming winter months.           

In the Garden

I have been confined to barracks for the last few weeks as the kitchen is undergoing a major overhaul. This, along with the dreadful weather of early June, has meant that I have had to content myself with brief spells in the garden. The highlight for me for most of May has been the sight of the male orange tip butterfly patrolling erratically along the flower borders looking for just the right flower. At times it would almost touch down on a white or red aquilegia but then decide to move on past the forget-me-nots and the white comfrey so loved by the bees but still does not stop. Finally he alights and the flower of choice is nearly always the purple honesty. The handsome male with his white and distinctive, orange tipped wings is easy to pick out but not so the female. One just one occasion I was lucky enough to see the male and female together, the female lacking the orange but has the same green and white patterning on the underneath of the hind wing.          

 Photo of orange tip on comfrey just to prove me wrong.

 

I also managed to get a couple of photos of a bee fly. Firstly, hovering to delicately feed from a forget-me-not and then later resting in the warm sunshine on the brickwork of the house.

100 Passed

Its official, this April is the wettest for a 100 hundred years (or since records began) so we were lucky as we set out for Fobbing marsh on the 30/4/12 in the sunshine. In the trees and bushes at the back of the Pegasus Club in Corringham we heard and then saw a cuckoo. This declining summer visitor also happened to be the 100^th species on my 2012 list. Cuckoos have had a lot of publicity recently with the BTO fitting radio transmitters to a number of individuals, in order to find out where they spend the winter and what migration routes they take. The BTO have also given the recently returned birds names such as Clement, Martin and Lyster.  I thought our local one should be called Wayne!

Moving on, we heard the calls of a chiffchaff and a green woodpecker that obligingly flew past and there were a number of male orange tips on the wing, enjoying the rare sunshine. As we crossed a stile, making our way to the Iron Latch footpath our progress slowed, in fact we almost stopped. Not far to the left of us, lying down, was a bull, complete with ring through the nose!  Needless to say, as we nervously crossed the field, we spent more time keeping an eye on the bull than looking for birds. Safely across the next stile and into more open parts of the marsh, we could hear a distant skylark and a few whitethroats were flitting around the patches of scrub. We were pleased to see a brown hare quietly sitting in the longer grass. I do wonder how they survive on this mainly overgrazed land.

Further on we reached what I think is the remains of an old WW2 gun emplacement. These low concrete structures, year after year, seem to attract wheatears passing through on migration and this time was no exception. There were three handsome males and two females busy feeding on the ground with occasional sorties on to the top of the bunker.

On retracing our steps we found that the bull had moved and was now lying just the other side of the stile, looking straight at us, so we decided on a detour via the ‘Vineyards’!  That diversion proved to be rewarding as we did see two male brimstones.

So, with the wheatear and whitethroat added to my bird list, I am now up to 102!   

Flying Tonight 27.4.12

The light was just beginning to fade as we gathered for an Essex Wildlife Trust bat evening at the Langdon Hills nature reserve. In the visitors centre around fifteen interested souls were soon listening to the leaders briefing for the evening’s escapade. 

After tea, coffee and biscuits (how civilised), we trooped out into the gathering gloom armed with torches and with bat detectors at the ready. Thankfully, after the wind and rain of recent days, the evening was dry, still and by comparison of late, mild, so the stage was set for a successful evening.

We had only walked about 100 yards and had just entered an area with trees either side of the path when the first urgent, rapid clicking on a number of detectors could be heard. We had found our first bat (or was that bats?) of the night! The group stopped and were pointing the detectors in all directions and you could hear a barrage of clicks from the line of detectors. At times it seemed the clicking would start at one end of our line and as the bat flew past the clicking would move to other detectors along our line. Although we could ‘hear’ the bats, seeing them was another thing and, with the trees around us, it was now quite dark but as our eyes become adjusted to the conditions we did manage glimpses of these fast, erratic, flying mammals.

Moving on to the lake, we positioned ourselves on the bank looking out across the still water and in the sky towards the west, the last ribbon of the fading daylight. You could hear the nocturnal honks and quacks of the geese and ducks and see their dark silhouettes gliding along on the far side of the water.

It was not long before the bats were running the gauntlet of our detectors, bringing them to life with hurried click- click-clicks, as they passed in their jerky flight. Once again, despite the numerous audio warnings of their approach, it was not easy to see them and we did wonder just how many bats were around. Some tried shining a torch across the water hoping to pick out a bat skimming the surface hunting for insects but this was largely unsuccessful. We had been there for around 45 minutes when slowly, perhaps coinciding with the dropping temperature, our detectors eventually fell silent.   

As we made our way back, now using the torches to aid our progress, a few detectors clicked away as we walked between the trees where perhaps the shelter they provided  meant that winged food could still be found. After the recent run of poor weather, I imagine that the bats would need to make the most of the kinder conditions and to continue to feed for as long as possible. 

Bats hunt by using echo location - that is, they emit a high pitched call that bounces back off their prey. To distinguish between some species, it is necessary to know the frequency of their calls and to set your set detector to that frequency (e.g. the call of the lesser horseshoe bat is at 110 kHz). Most of the bats were identified as pipistrelles but we did think we saw one Daubenton’s bat over the lake, taking into consideration its flight pattern, size and its liking for hunting near water.

Before this evening, I was thinking of purchasing a bat detector and it was a good opportunity to talk to others with experience and see what types they were using. I was hoping that there was one that I had only to point at a bat and it would tell me which species it was. Guess what, it is not as simple as that! A fair bit of skill, knowledge and software is needed to pinpoint a species.  So I think I will opt for a fairly simple model!

On my return home I was just locking the car when what did I see fly past a nearby streetlamp?  Yep, a bat!  

Wet and Windy

Today, as I sit here looking out of the window watching the rain falling and the bushes and shrubs being tossed around in the chilly wind, I can’t help thinking of those summer migrants that have recently arrived on our shores. I imagine them hunched up with sodden feathers on a branch trying to shelter from the driven rain. They must already be tired and hungry after their often arduous flights and now they are facing the possibility of a gloomy English spring and summer. As water drips from the tips of their bills they must be thinking “why do we come here each year?” I suppose the answer must be, “because it works”. After all birds must have been following these seasonal flight paths since, well anyway, a long, long time and have managed in general, to raise a new generation to continue the process!

It is the birds such as swallows, martins and of course the swift that concern me the most as these feed almost exclusively on winged insects snatched in flight. On days like today it must be difficult to find a sheltered spot where perhaps a few brave insects have taken to the air in order to continual their own life cycles. Or, being effortless in the air, do they travel longer distances, searching for other areas of the countryside that may be having kinder weather?  Perhaps in these periods of bad weather they instinctively know that hunting will be poor and simply stay ‘grounded’, resting up and conserving energy?

Whatever their strategy, I just hope that it copes with the current poor weather and, come the sunshine, they will once again be swooping through the blue skies in pursuit of those juicy, nourishing insects.

Rainham Marshes – April, Friday 13th

Friday the 13^th was living up to its reputation! Looking out of the window a thick mist or was it fog had reduced visibility to around 100yards, not ideal for a morning’s birdwatching at a Thameside marsh! However, by the time we arrived, the fog had lifted and we were soon eagerly listening to a member of staff at the RSPB’s Rainham Marsh visitor centre telling us what had been seen recently. Yellow wagtail, wheatear and garganey, the names filling us with anticipation as we set off.  

Well, we never found a yellow wagtail, despite scouring their last known whereabouts (around the cattle) and even though other birdwatchers said they had seen wheatears moments earlier we failed to locate them. It wasn’t all bad luck though! As we walked along the boardwalk between the reeds a cetti’s warbler suddenly flew up in front of us and delivered its short explosive song in a nearby bush in full view! Then, we managed to find the garganey, a male and a female together. It must be around 15 years since I last saw this scarce summer migrant and I had forgotten just how beautiful the male is.

Perhaps Rainham will be lucky enough to have a breeding pair of these small, shy ducks!

Moving In

Over the past few days I have noticed a pair of great tits inspecting a desirable, detached residence in my garden. This interest seems to have annoyed the local house sparrows, after seemingly finding the door too narrow in the past, they have now started peering in and standing on the roof!. However, the great tits stood their ground and having completed an internal survey have decided to move in.

Today, I have been watching them carry beakfuls of green moss into the nestbox attached to the trunk of a gingko tree. I then started to wonder if this chore was a shared responsibility which gave me the task of differentiating between the male and female. The greens and yellow of the male are brighter and he has a much broader, black breast stripe that becomes even wider between the legs.

Having established this, it soon became evident that this was an unequal distribution of labour. It was always the female that repeatedly appeared, perching on an adjacent branch, to check the coast was clear before disappearing into the box with the cosy moss in her bill. This is not to say that the male was completely redundant. He appeared to be taking a more supervisory role with occasional ‘teach-er, teach-er’ calls from nearby vantage points perhaps to announce his territory or as an encouragement to the female’s efforts. In addition, I did see him on a couple of occasions with food/grub in his bill and the female nearby but despite carrying the tit-bit from branch to branch and sometimes approaching close to the nest box he ended up eating it himself. The romantic in me thought that these might be signals to the female that he would be able to provide for their forthcoming offspring!

By late afternoon the cargoes of moss had stopped. Not that the woman’s work was done, merely that the base of the nest had been completed and now the material that was being transported to the box had changed. I am not sure what it was but it was white in colour and looked like fine fur or hair, it was obvious that the nest was being lined. Once again frequent trips ensued with one ball of soft hair so large that I imagined it obscuring her vision in flight. All this hard work was interspersed with stop offs to my seed feeder for refuelling and of course the male joined in.

Later, whether through tiredness or that the job was completed the birds disappeared. I will certainly be monitoring future events with interest.                            

p.s.   The house sparrows obviously have different domestic arrangements as over the past couple of days I have frequently seen a male stripping the soft lining from a hanging basket outside the back door and flying back to next door’s box!  But then its Latin name is Passer domesticus!

Reed Buntings in my South Essex Garden!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was March 31^st and I was looking at a handsome male reed bunting in the garden. This was a first for my garden list and then astonishingly, like London buses, a second one turned up, minutes later. For the next seven days one or both of these summer plumaged males have returned to the garden to feed on seeds that had fallen to the ground below the hanging feeders.  Here they would confidently forage along with the odd chaffinch or greenfinch allowing close up views through the binoculars or telescope. With its striking black head with a clear white collar, the black and warm brown patterning on the wings and the delicate streaking on the flanks it was a picture.

Garden year list for 2012 now up to 25 species.

Harbingers of Spring

Looking in the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, it was a word once used for an advance company of an army sent ahead to prepare a camping ground. It could also be a pioneer or a forerunner or to announce or presage.

Each year I look forward to these harbingers of gentler times and I often ask myself the question, if I had to choose just one which captures most completely that sense of anticipation or renewal, what would it be?

Although there are many and varied signs of Spring, my favourite harbinger is the brimstone butterfly. To glimpse this delicate pastel-yellow butterfly (especially the deeper, brighter male) flitting past the dark stands of leafless blackthorn in the early spring sunshine is to me a marvellous sight of coming regeneration and promise. I saw one this year as early as February 23rd in Langdon Hills.

Not one of mine this time - from Wikipedia

There must be countless choices but what is your favourite harbinger of spring?