Close to Nature

6.4.16

I was standing quietly in the garden beneath the bare branches of an apple tree wondering whether to add to my now decaying log pile when my reverie was broken by the sound of crashing branches and the frantic flapping of wings. I quickly looked to my right to see, not twenty foot away, a female sparrowhawk land or rather tumble to the ground amongst the overhanging leaves of the artichokes. She had obviously taken her prey from either the leylandii or the bay tree above. With fierce yellow eyes and her wings outstretched and pointing forwards she shielded her prey and for good reason as this attack had not gone unnoticed. Above, the air was filled with around ten jackdaws all calling wildly and circling around the tree tops. At this point I could not see her unfortunate victim but as I moved slightly she must have suddenly realised I was there and released her grip and off flew a rather battered collared dove, its feathers ruffled, to say the least. Like a rocket the sparrowhawk was off in pursuit and within fifty yards caught up and stretching out a talon it plucked the dove out of mid-air and plunged with it to the ground out of sight amongst some large shrubs in a neighbour’s garden. The jackdaws, now joined by a magpie, followed but soon their raucous calls subsided and they flew away leaving the hawk to dine in peace.
On two occasions over the past few years I have disturbed a sparrowhawk in the garden feeding on a collared dove and at others times I have found piles of white feathers on the lawn suggesting a hawk had plucked a dove but I have never witnessed an actual kill in the garden and certainly not at such close quarters. While the smaller male might struggle with prey the size of a collared dove it is certainly no problem for the larger female. I do wonder if the proliferation of the collared dove and the more recent increase in sparrowhawk numbers are in someway linked.

A Special Bird

Despite the best efforts of storm ’Gertrude’, my wife and I recently enjoyed a short break in North Norfolk. That evening, after a windswept day of birdwatching (the highlight being a stunning male brambling at Titchwell), we sat down for dinner and as the waitress recited the ‘specials’ we were surprised when she said “woodcock”!

This pigeon sized bird with a long bill and delicate brown and grey barring frequents damp woodland and, being crepuscular, often remains hidden during the day unless flushed. At dusk during the breeding season the male performs its ‘roding’ display flight above the tree tops while calling - a sight and sound I would love to witness.

I like game and I eat it regularly. I eat pheasant and partridge (red legged of course) but these are bred for shooting and therefore I can justify them being on the menu. The woodcock, on the other hand, is a truly wild bird and sightings are rare indeed, especially in my part of Essex. What I cannot understand is why this secretive, red list bird (along with the more common snipe) are classed as game and, as such, they are allowed to be hunted in season.

For a moment I wondered what it would taste like and thought I should try it, after all it had already been shot but then my conscience got the better of me. No - why should I encourage the shooting of this bird by creating a demand even though in the Autumn the number of woodcock in the UK increases dramatically with an influx of visitors from Finland and Russia?

Looking at the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 on the computer, I found schedule 2 part 1 which lists the birds that can killed or taken outside of the close season and was surprised that it also includes pintail, gadwall and golden plover! Conversely: pheasant, partridge and red grouse do not appear on the list but do appear from time to time on the menu! I know It can be dangerous for the likes of myself to negotiate the minefields of legislation and therefore I rely on organisations such as the RSPB to protect our wildlife when needed. So I will ask them why a red list bird such as a woodcock still features on menus.  

Winter Visitors

With Christmas and the New Year packed away, I finally managed to arrange a day out birdwatching with a friend.  A real chance to kick off my year list which up to now consisted of only the common garden birds and a few I had seen flying over.  Unfortunately, the day we chose coincided with the first real wintry conditions of the year, with temperatures in low single figures, showers and a brisk northerly wind.  

As we approached our destination, Abberton reservoir, the first new bird for my list flew across in front of the car. It was a ghostly white, little egret. My friend recalled the time twenty years ago when he went on a ‘twitch’ to see this now established species. We parked on the lower causeway and surveyed the wide expanses of choppy grey water dotted with wildfowl and gulls. As it was raining, we opened the car window on the leeward side and used our binoculars to scan the birds. It wasn’t long before we picked out, amongst the numerous great crested grebes and pochards, two goldeneye. From the comfort of the car we watched as these winter visitors from northern climes dived repeatedly in the cold water, disappearing from sight for what seemed a remarkably long time until bobbing back to the surface, their large white loral patch showing well even at a distance. By now the rain had stopped and somewhat reluctantly we left the car, telescopes over our shoulders, ready to brave the elements and to seek out more species. Next, we found three elegant goosanders, with their long red bills hooked at the tip, another exciting winter visitor. Among the mainly black headed gulls wheeling low overhead, was one individual with an unseasonal, almost complete, black hood and a few common gulls. Back in the relative warmth of the car we drove to the other end of the causeway and resumed our search and were soon rewarded with good views of what must be the most attractive of the sawbills, the male smew!  Breeding in northern boral forests beside water, this rather scarce duck graces our winter months with its white plumage, edged with fine lines of black. Nearby was the female, with its brown-grey upperparts and chestnut-brown head, commonly referred to as a ‘red head’.

Our year lists were growing but the cold forced us once again to retreat and this time drive to the visitor centre for a hot drink as well as information on one winter visitor that had so far eluded us, the Bewick’s swan. Despite the recent reports of around three individuals being seen, we had only found mute swans. Apart from a stonechat on the approach to the centre, we did not see any new birds from its panoramic windows but we were informed that the Bewick’s had been seen in Wigborough Bay, so now warmed, we left to find them.       

We tried from various vantage points to locate the elusive swans without luck, but on one occasion while focussing on two distant swans both with their heads underwater, we did see a male marsh harrier quartering the rough grassland in the background. The swans- they eventually raised their heads, they, like all the swans we had seen that day, had orange bills not the yellow that we had hoped for!  

We came away pleased with the birds we had seen, my year list is now at 51, and it seemed fitting to witness these winter visitors who had migrated for conditions that we found cold and bleak.      

New Year, New list

Have you ever wondered what it is that drives some birdwatchers to year after year compile lists of their sightings and is there a useful product at the end of their often dedicated endeavours?

Being a 'lister' myself, the initiation of the cycle is of course the approach to New Year's Day when I begin to look forward to starting my brand new lists. It's the time to put all the successes and failures behind you, and ahead, a whole new year in which you will perhaps have a chance to add new species.

The anticipation reminds me of schooldays when you were given new exercise books at the beginning of term, your neatest hand writing on the pristine cover, a fresh start. Looking back I suppose I exhibited all the trademarks of a future 'lister' when in my younger days I and a couple of school friends would go bus and train spotting. Ideal training for any aspiring birdwatcher really i.e. standing around, often at the end of a windswept platform or a cold, remote bus station, underlining or ticking off the engines and buses in our books. It was around this time of my childhood that my first bird list was born when I started to tick off the birds that I had seen in my Observer's Book of Birds.

Nowadays, like numerous other birdwatchers I am sure, I keep two lists- a garden list and a year list. I won't bore you with the details of my somewhat mundane year lists which, by the way, has never exceeded the 150 mark but I would like to share some of the highlights from over the years that have appeared on my garden list in Corringham, Essex. They include ;  waxwing, wryneck, barn owl, reed bunting, woodcock, spotted flycatcher, coal tit, grey wagtail, ring necked parakeet, brambling, willow warbler, goldcrest, redwing, fieldfare, song thrush, siskin and sparrowhawk. 

So going back to my initial question [what use are lists?]. Well obviously they are great for looking back and rekindling memories of the more exciting sightings and perhaps their locations. They can also remind you of the harsher periods of weather as most of the scarcer birds have occurred in winter during periods of snow or very low temperatures, especially in gardens. If you compare your lists year by year you may see changes in the species turning up in your garden or even further afield. On a wider scale, submitting your records to the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) or the RSPB's garden watch schemes, you can contribute to the monitoring of population fluctuations on a national level.

Happy New Year