The Christmas Centenary

I might be a bit of scrooge, but certainly when it comes to the present element of Christmas, it’s fair to say I am pretty nonplussed nowadays. Gone are the days of extreme excitement for each and every individual present, that inimitable adrenaline that surges through you as a kid as a seemingly incessant wave of impeccably wrapped gifts wend their way from the tree to your lap. Of course, receiving gifts is still a lovely feeling, a token of unbridled generosity. Yet probably the best ‘present’ I got this Christmas was sourced not from people, but from the patch, as the beloved Costessey House Private Estate reached 100 species on 27th December.

Prior to the glorious day (the 27th, not the 25th), the omens for that vital patch lifer seemed good. On Christmas Eve I’d dug out decent numbers of commoner winter finch flocks, and on Christmas Day a small dabbling duck on the Wensum at Drayton Meadows transpired to be a drake Teal: when there is any duck species minus Mallard on site, there is the potential that it could be anything, as Teal in itself is a very good record for this usually duck free site. So I wasn’t far off that day. I wasn’t able to get out on 26th, and indeed, my time for hardcore patching was limited due to the fact that family had come up from South Africa to visit for the Christmas and New Year period. The 27th was a full day, however, and it started with a bang as two Little Egrets landed on Mill Field, disturbing a group of 8 Red-legged Partridge in the process.

Little Egrets on Mill Field (27/12/13)

As I started towards Fishermen’s Field along Mill Lane, a Kingfisher landed on a branch by the Wensum, my first ever winter record and the only time that this species made an appearance during my visit. As I neared the corner and the entrance to Fishermen’s I binned a roving group of 5 Redwings in flight. Not far behind them was a chunky passerine, letting out a repeated, ‘chipping‘ call…

BOOM! Common Crossbill: the 100th species for Costessey H.P.E! Get in my son! The wait had been long and painful, after many days of patching during my month’s stay in the summer, and a relatively fruitless October, I’d finally done it, in the nick of time. To get to this stage before the year’s end had been my ultimate patching aim. That Common Crossbill provided it, as it flew towards me and very briefly landed on one of the taller trees above me, revealing itself to be a stonking male and allowing me to 100% eliminate any of the more unusual Crossbill species that have been hanging around in Norfolk in recent months. No sooner had I attempted to get a shot with the DSLR it had flown, continuing westwards towards Taverham and Costessey Pits.

I was absolutely buzzing. This random piece of pool free land, not known for its birds, had just reached 100 species in just under two years of me patching it. When you consider that I am only down in Norfolk maybe 4-6 times a year (so maybe 12-14 overall visits since December 2011 to the region), this is a fantastic feat on the part of the patch. At the beginning of 2013, I had seen 83 species at Costessey H.P.E. 12 months later and 17 new birds in a stellar patching year, all thanks to the motivation provided by Patchwork Challenge. It was a year that included highlights of: 6 Cranes, Bittern, Jack Snipe, Woodcock, summering Hobbies, Spotted Flycatcher, Water Rail and Grasshopper Warblers, among many others. 94 species were recorded in 2013 and 104 points for PWC: only 6 species off the entire patch list total.

What will the patch herald this year? Will 105 overall, or at a long shot 110, be possible? It will be an uphill struggle, but the majority of duck species including Wigeon, Tufted Duck and Shelduck should be possible, whilst waders including Redshank, Curlew and Common Sandpiper are notable omissions likely to occur at some point. Let’s not forget species such as Wheatear, Cuckoo, Bewick’s Swan and Red Kite, which all pass through the Taverham and Costessey area yearly, and Marsh Tit, which occurs literally just off site. This could feasibly raise things up to the 110 mark, yet I’m probably more likely to get species way off my radar, as usual! Whatever happens, here’s to another exciting year on the patch, as it enters it’s second year for Patchwork Challenge.

***

The remaining patching in 2013 went well, with the rest of 27th and 31st both being very productive days on site. On 27th 8 Teal were picked up in flight at Drayton Meadows, heading east along the Wensum, whilst up to 16 Skylark were part of a large passerine group 80 Goldfinch, 40 Chaffinch and 30 Greenfinch and 6 Yellowhammers on Old Costessey Fields. Cormorant and Meadow Pipit were present daily, the former including 2 roving individuals and the latter reaching a maximum of 8 on Drayton Meadows. A Nuthatch and the young Barn Owl were also noted on 27th, as well as the other side of the New Year on 2nd Jan. New Year’s Eve’s highlight went to the second patch record of Treecreeper : one that I dug out among a sizable group of 15 Long-tailed Tits along the Marriot’s Way at Drayton Woods. The same day heralded a Lesser Redpoll east over Fishermen’s Field, a female Sparrowhawk and a Snipe.

The 2014 patching year has begun healthily, with two relatively full patch checks up until I left on 2nd providing a few of the slightly less regular patch species. Little Egret was noted on both days, whilst 2 Snipe were flushed from Drayton Meadows on 2nd, and the Cormorants and Nuthatch remained. 250 Black-headed Gulls on 2nd between Old Costessey Fields and Drayton Meadows was a record total for the patch. A smart female Great-spotted Woodpecker and Stock Dove gave nice views also on said date, whilst a plastic-as-you-like Muscovy Duck was with 9 Mallards on 1st, and I jammed on a Grey Wagtail at the sluice as I left for the station. With 41 species noted in the first two days, it seems that 2014 is set to be another good year at Costessey House Private Estate: my conservative aim is 85 species for now. Only time will tell us whether the patch will match the same high standards of what was an unforgettable 2013 on site, but one thing’s for sure, I’ll be working it hard!

Great Spotted Woodpecker at Witches’ Field (2/1/14)

Thanks for reading,

Joseph

Bewick’s And A Dick’s

Christmas and New Year in Norfolk was particularly unusual this year, not for the birds as such, but due to the fact the South African part of my family had come all the way up to the UK to visit. This unfortunately meant there were severe limitations to my available birding time away from the patch. Thus, I had to economize and prioritize appropriately.

I wasn’t able to get out for a day on the coast until the 27th December, and with no-one available to meet I concluded that the plan of action was to work the stretch of coast between Kelling and Salthouse and then move towards Burnham Deepdale to see what comes into roost. Time was precious as I was unable to get a lift to Fakenham for the bus before 10, which in turn meant I did not pitch up at Kelling until nearly 11:30. Once I had arrived, I started down the verdant grove track that runs parallel to Kelling Quags and past the Water Meadows.

It just so happened that a Richard’s Pipit had been faffing around for a few days in the fields just west of the Water Meadows. If the bird was still there I decided I’d give it a brief look whilst I scouted the area for other stuff. The Water Meadows were deadly quiet, not holding any wildfowl at all, so I continued round towards the airfield only to have the Richard’s Pipit flying right over my head and calling: nice, the first time I’ve actually heard this species call. Behind it were a couple of Mipits, reduced to minuteness. The Dick’s largely favoured a load of grassy hay-like debris that had been washed up by early December’s devastating north and east Norfolk coast floods. Here it literally became a needle in the haystack job, so I was disinclined to stick around for long. I gave it 10 minutes, managing stonking views through the scope early on before it headed into the debris, as it fed busily by a pool. Its gorgeous pale fringed lesser and greater coverts were evident, as were the pale lores, the long hind-claw and the characteristic Turdus-esque stance. That was my lot though. I could not be arsed sticking around as it gradually headed deep into the nearby debri, becoming amorphous with it. I happened to get more flight views of it as I started towards Muckleburgh Hill though, where there was nothing particularly of note save a Stonechat.

This was the first wintering Richard’s Pipit I’ve seen. Wintering Dick’s are by not entirely unprecedented in Norfolk, with rogue individuals from the autumn often sticking around, albeit sometimes transient on a local scale. This has been the case since the early 20th century and beyond, as my superb Christmas present A Season Of Birds: A Norfolk Diary (1911) by Jim Vincent testifies. Vincent, a professional wild-fowler, avid bird enthusiast and Hickling born and bred, accounts for a year’s birding at Hickling and its environs in this wonderfully evocative and beautifully presented diary-cum-book. At the beginning of the diary he recounts:

‘2nd January: Strong wind from the N.W. Squalls of hail. No-one in Hickling can remember so high a tide. I saw close by the Lodge on Hickling wall a Richard’s Pipit. Watched it running on the wall, and at the edge of water several minutes’.

Over the page, there is a delicate illustration of this chanced upon Richard’s Pipit by Vincent’s friend George Lodge, capturing with a certain raw beauty the various diagnostic feather patterns and plumage hues of the bird in its watery, boggy environs. On reading of this record when I got the book a few days ago, I was immediately transported back to the bird I had seen at Kelling. The Richard’s Pipit at Kelling was, like Vincent’s lonesome individual, taking advantage of the squalor created by tidal flooding and, most evocatively for me, also spent a brief time pecking around at the edge of some water that had been left by the high tides. A timely and touching coincidence, given that Vincent’s diary was also written in Norfolk, and also accounts for a wintering Richard’s Pipit in roughly the same period.

Anyway, offshore at Kelling there was very little kicking off, the best I could muster being 15 Red-throated Divers, their demarcations gleaming out against the flat-as-a-millpond sea. The stretch to Salthouse was utterly bird-free, and my spontaneous plans to continue walking across the shingle to Cley were completely hindered by a new patch of where the shingle had subsided and the sea had pushed through, blocking off the rest of the shingle on the other side. I stuck around at Salthouse for 45 minutes before taking the Coasthopper westwards, by which time it was nearly 2:30pm. This left me with an hour and a half or so before dusk, and with the bus not due to arrive at Deepdale until near enough half 3, I did not have long.

After a tense wait I finally made it to Deepdale in the failing light. Standing along the sea wall, I watched rafts of Little Egret, perhaps 60 in all, wing their way towards Holkham. In the winter half-light their white forms were like ethereal, giant ghostly glowflies. Towards Holkham and Wells the sky was black with a flock of 2000+ Pink-footed Geese, not quite audible. 200 Brent Geese were obscured as they touched down on the sand beyond Deepdale’s creeks, whilst 4 female Marsh Harriers hunted briefly, each heading westwards from Holkham. This disrupted throngs of winter waders, including 100s of Curlew, 40 Golden Plover and 30 Grey Plover. The night won, and I headed home.

A surprise visit to Holt Country Park was made the next day with family, but I was ridiculously stopped from going to check out the Parrot Crossbills there (mothers these days, hey?). I did manage a bonus stunning Red Kite right over the car as we passed Edgefield Tip, however, and clocked Marsh Tit and Treecreeper at Holt CP proper. The 30th was the final bit of birding I managed during the trip, involving a brief reconnoitre to Jim Vincent’s territory: Ludham for a certain Cygnus sp, namely the annual wintering flock of Bewick’s Swans. Vincent himself noted them in the vicinity of Hickling and around Ludham in the winter of 1911, as early as October, so this is clearly a traditional wintering spot:

’25th October: Saw 29 Bewick’s Swans in the afternoon… after having a short feed and harassed by the Mutes they went off West at dusk. They were all old birds.’

Even in the howling wind and rain, these birds were obliging as I sifted through them with the scope from the comfort of the car, having picked them out from the main road in a field by the A149 between Potter Heigham and Hickling. We took a minor road and were soon watching these superb swans down to 100ft or so in reasonably good light, despite the weather. Bewick’s Swan is a species I have only seen twice outside of Norfolk, so whenever there is an opportunity to see this species locally, I always take the opportunity. The last Bewick’s I had seen were also the Ludham birds, nearly two years ago back in January 2012, where I had delighted in seeing my highest ever personal total: 40 birds. Today there more though: some 60 Bewick’s Swans (3 juveniles) along with 15 Whooper Swans (6 juveniles), feeding intently. The Whoopers were all clustered near hay bales at the left hand edge of the flock, with the odd Bewick’s feeling a bit short-necked and out of place in amongst them. However, the Bewick’s were sprawled messily across a large stretch of the field, one group of 10 were completely detached from the nucleus of the flock. I had an ultimatum of 15 mins with the birds before we had to move on to pastures new for other reasons, so maximized the times by making the above count and taking the below images. A very enjoyable and worthwhile little stop for one of my favourite British species, ending the birding year in Norfolk. What will 2014 herald for me in the county? Only time will tell.

Bewick’s and Whooper Swans at Ludham Airfield (30/12/13)

Bewick’s Swan panorama (30/12/13)

Thanks for reading,

Joseph

Nae Tae Shabby Fae Glasgae

Happy New Year everyone, after a blogging free December on my part. It seems that wherever I end up living, there’s always some reasonably decent birds to entertain. It hadn’t really occurred to me when I first moved down to Glasgow that I would see anything noteworthy in and around my flat. Well, think again, Joe.

Outside of uni terms, I can nowadays be found either hammering the marsh down at the beloved Costessey Private Estate, or more commonly in my flat here in Kelvinside, inner city Glasgow. As it happens, the flat is situated just across the road from the River Kelvin and Botanic Gardens (see below). As I am on the third floor, and happen to live in the flat that is literally beside the western entrance into the Botanic Gardens, I have a living room which gives a tree-height, panoramic view of the west end from our windows, and looks right onto the canopies of the Botanics.

A few passerines sift through the trees closest to the window: as I write this at 3:40pm a party of Long-tailed Tits are feeding, completely oblivious of me, within 15ft of the window. In the past few months I’ve also had these views of Bullfinch, Siskin, Great Spotted Woodpecker, roving groups of Fieldfare, Redwing and Mistle Thrushes from the table I am sitting at. It’s a stroke of luck that the views from the living room allows for this intimacy, this exploration into the clandestine, arboreal lives of urban passerines, especially when the trees are bare at this time of year. Just across the hall in the kitchen, I’ve had a flyover Cormorant, two Buzzards, Sparrowhawk and calling Tawny Owl since we’ve moved down. It’s a consoling feeling to have seen these species just sitting around in the flat. Whilst my old house back in Aberdeen was a magnet for Waxwings in winter and heralded the odd commoner Phyllosc, the Glasgow flat beats it on birding quality, ironic considering that the former area utterly trounces Clyde for birds. Having the River Kelvin and the Botanics at hand more or less as soon as you reach ground level helps, of course.

Talking of ground level, I had more than a bit of a surprise as I went downstairs to take the rubbish out before breakfast this morning. Literally as the the debris dropped from my hands with a resounding thud into the depths of the stinking bin, a single unmistakably loud, demented squawk emanated from close by. It takes some volume and attitude to be louder than a load of rubbish hitting a metal surface. What?! It couldn’t be? Surely I was kidding myself that I’d just heard this outside my Glasgow flat? But no. The shrieking call continued to get louder and louder, as I scanned the skies, waiting for the pesky Psittacula to give itself up. My second record of Buzzard for the flat flew over. In pursuit was an adult Ring-necked Parakeet, raucous and stupendous as you like, shrieking its bonse off. Dad and I followed this surreal duo down the street, the Parakeet relentlessly harrying the beleaguered Buteo. The squawking softened and the birds became dots as they headed quickly west over Kelvinside Academy and were lost to view.

Now, that was seriously strange. What this bird was doing in Scotland, let alone flying over my Glasgow flat, bewilders me. I am aware that a couple of rogue individuals have frequented the Crail and Bulmullo area in the east coast of Fife over the years, but in a Scottish context Ring-necked Parakeets occurrences are really pretty unprecedented. Whether a genuinely dispersing feral bird from the London population or an escape, this is a species that I’d never expect to see in Scotland. A little research on Birdguides does show that lone Ring-necked Parakeets have been seen sporadically in and around Glasgow over the last five years, including last year. Still, pretty ridiculous though: definitely the most interesting species to have graced the area since I’ve moved down: things may well not get much better for us here. Not often that a personal Scottish first flies over your house.

Inspired, I headed for a walk around the Botanics and the River Kelvin. The quickest way to walk to my flat is through the Botanics, normally through a route which cuts through the actual gardens themselves, so whenever I want to get to and from home I have to go via it. Sometimes I take a diversion and walk up from the Kibble Palace towards Maryhill along the Kelvin, which holds typical river species but in the spring looks promising for a few warblers in the surrounding cover. In the summer I had a family of Grey Wagtails along the Kelvin, but the river has really come to life this winter. Just before my uni exams in December, I watched a singing Dipper down to 10ft as I sat on a bench reading Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. Presumably the same bird was present again today, although not so forthcoming. A short walk from the flat to one of a few footbridges over the Kelvin continually produces views down to 15ft of wintering Goosander amongst the local Mallards at this time of year. 6 (3 pairs) were present today: I intend get down there with the DSLR at some point in the next couple of days. To cap things off today, a piping Kingfisher flew downstream at Maryhill, landing and fishing about 10ft away from me: azure and orange glinting in the crisp light. As I attempted to get a picture on my phone, without bins or camera at hand, the bird scuttled southwards. Urban patch gold.

the River Kelvin towards Maryhill in July 2013, a couple of minutes walk from the flat. Photo courtesy of Liv Nichols

Nae tae shabby fae glasgae, ye ken? The beauty of it is that without any optics at hand and without any actual proper birding, I’ve had all the aforementioned species here, part of a modest total of 41 species seen since we moved down in July 2013.  The perks of urban birding.

Thanks for reading,

Joseph