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?