Gos in the Woods 3rd March 2025

c Richard Tyler
richardtyler.zenfolio.com

I looked out of the window. It was 8am. A cold morning with a light covering of frost shimmering on roof and pavement under a bright sun shining in an ice blue sky. My mind turned to Goshawks. 

This supreme killer of the forest hunts squirrels and pigeons through the woods, taking them by surprise as it weaves at high speed through the trees.Not for them the open air stoop beloved of the aristocratic Peregrine or the persistent hovering of a demure Kestrel that silently drops on its prey from the sky..

  

Early spring days of sun and light wind, such as today are when, for a brief two month period, Goshawks forsake the shelter of the woods and trees to take to the  open sky where they indulge in display flights before resuming their secretive existence.  

Mornings are best to encounter the displaying birds and so it was that I passed through a gate beyond which lay a broad track, a mulch of mud and last year's fallen beech leaves downtrodden into a  dark stain of ruts and bootprints from others that had also taken the path over the preceding days and weeks. I tread carefully, the ruts frozen to the hardness of iron by the overnight frost are now thawing where the sun reaches, creating treacherous patches requiring extreme care to avoid a slip and subsequent mud plastered clothing which would ruin the day.

Walking onward through a mixture of deciduous and conifer woodland,  the track steadily and gently rises to where I can stand with my back to a wood of mature conifer and beech trees, the trunks of the latter, a silent regiment of smooth grey columns. A Jay's harsh shriek startles me and then all is quiet.

There is a sense of serenity today, the trees seeming to absorb the wind, providing an effective shield from a gentle northeast breeze. The sun, even at this early hour is warm and comforting in this sheltered corner and I rejoice in its unaccustomed warmth and presence.  I am entirely alone, the track I had come up although used by others is, on weekdays and at such an hour as this not popular.

The woods are never silent for long as unseen avian vocalists interrupt whatever thoughts are passing through my head. The monotonous throbbing of Stock Doves comes from deep in the wood behind me but most typical of all are the ringing notes of Great Tits, teacher, teacher, teacher they call, over and over amongst the sun pockets forming in the  latticework of bare twigs and branches. An anthem of Spring.

It is half past nine and I am in position too early to expect a Goshawk but it is no hardship to stand here, relaxed and contemplative. I can see for miles, across trees mainly and some farm fields then on to the very edge of eyesight, where another ridge of bare trees forms a distant blue freize.

A startled pheasant croaks loudly and blunders noisily away through the undergrowth. Fortunately there is no pheasant shooting on this private estate and there is an enlightened attitude towards predators such as the resident Goshawks. In former times, like most raptors they were ruthlessly persecuted wherever they were found in Britain, almost to the point of extinction  but the decline and breaking up of many large estates has meant fewer gamekeepers which has allowed them to multiply and although still scarce there are now more Goshawks than one would think in woods that were formerly a no go area for anything with a hooked bill

Superficially similar to the smaller Sparrowhawk to which they are related by genus, they are when adult, grey above and barred white below. reaching maturity at around two to three years of age

My routine is to scan the sky above the trees before me with a telescope.It is an endless repetitive process and the rewards have to be worked for but the thrill of expectation holds me in a suspense of excitement. It could happen at any time and maybe this scan will be the one. Ever present, Woodpigeons come and go above the treetops, singly or in fast moving scattered groups hurrying away from possible danger or to feed in the fields. A Mistle Thrush, high in a lone tree that has survived to antiquity without being felled, rambles out its reflective song as another answers it from afar. 

Two Ravens croaking in conversation clear the treetops behind me and I watch them head up and away into the bright sky- their purposeful flight always creates the impression of them having a definite destination in mind.

Of course other birds of prey are here too and normally appear before any Gos. This is hardly unexpected as Red Kites and Common Buzzards are present in good numbers. The Red Kites are often the first to appear, gently floating on long wings and swinging forked tails, laconically searching for animal remains to scavenge. The comparison to window shopping seems a somehow appropriate impression as they move slowly above the trees scanning the ground.

As the sun warms and moves higher in the sky, the minutes pass Common Buzzards rise from the woods, dark, with broad wings and blunt tails, presenting an obviously chunkier shape than the kites and with wings held slightly above the horizontal, they search for a thermal and on finding one spiral upwards, sometimes five or six together to incredible heights where they are almost invisible below a blue heaven crossed by the white vapour trails of aircraft 

I keep scanning as an unfulfilled hour passes. I am not to be denied or in any way deterred. Previous encounters tell me a Gos will come eventually. Birds are never close here so it is the bird's profile rather than plumage that is crucial to confirm its identity. At just before eleven I locate a bird of prey in the sky that is flying towards me, head on. Its flight is slow but obviously powerful and it is yet to deviate its course or flap its wings, content to glide on the warm air currents. It turns and in so doing presents itself side on to me and flaps its wings, three, four times, exaggeratedly slowly and purposefully, displaying, then resumes its gliding. Circling higher there comes another exaggerated flap of wings and then more circling display in glides and undulating flight. I note its muscular bulging breast, overall robustness and long tail. No doubt about it, a Goshawk and a buzzard sized female at that,larger than any male Gos.

Although I see several Gos every time I come to this favoured spot the thrill of discovery never palls.It is my private pleasure as I am rarely with company and the knowledge that these secretive magnificent raptors  are here is one of a multitude of inconsequential lifetime experiences that contribute to a sense of self worth and fulfilment.

The female Gos continued to cruise around in the sky before me. I am glued to my scope unwilling to let this moment go, after waiting so long to see one. For five more minutes she patrols the sky, affirming her presence then descends, wings held half closed, in a long fast glide back into the wood from where she came. Gone.

This painting by Darren Woodhead that hangs on my study wall is of
displaying Goshawks, accurately depicting how they appeared to me
in the sky

I carry on scanning and another Gos rises from the woods and again that familiar pulse of excitement and achievement grips me. By noon I have had ten sightings. I have no idea how many individuals I have seen. Once, unforgettably I had five in the sky together. As Gos do not breed until two to three years of age there must be a population of younger birds also inhabiting the woods. 

As I slowly gain more insight into the Goshawks here,  more and more questions arise but it is a labour of love and no hardship not to know all the answers about this enigmatic bird that has so captured my imagination.

At noon I call time. There is always tomorrow and as long as the weather holds and even if it does not  I will continue my pilgrimage to these woods

As I depart through the trees a Gos chatters from the deep cover of some tall pines.

.

Local Hawfinches 1st March 2025

As those of you who read my blog will know my usual go to place for Hawfinches is Parkend in The Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.This requires a ninety minute drive and now, due to the ever increasing recreational disturbance at Parkend,  any visit results in immense frustration as the Hawfinches are constantly disturbed and fly off. It was therefore welcome to learn of the discovery of some Hawfinches in a quiet and old churchyard at the back of Woodstock, a genteel town not far from my home in Oxfordshire

Woodstock is well known due to being adjacent to Blenheim Palace, in the grounds of which was also a good place to see Hawfinches but sightings died off there years ago. More recently others were found amongst the ancient yews of another old churchyard in Great Tew also in Oxfordshire but their appearances remain typically erratic. 

Some years seem better than others for sighting this most secretive of finches and the current winter period appears to have been a good one. This has resulted in a large number of reports of Hawfinches being seen throughout England including a truly exceptional four hundred plus watched leaving their roost in, you guessed it, yews at Kingley Vale Local Nature Reserve in West Sussex 

Despite their bulk and fierce gaze they are shy, self effacing birds that like nothing better than to hide in the dark interior of mature yew trees using their massive bills to split the stones in the yew berries.They are the only bird capable of digesting the highly poisonous kernels which are an important food source for them in the winter months.

A report of two or three Hawfinches being seen on Friday in the large yews growing in Hensington Road Cemetery, a welcome oasis of greenery tucked away amongst housing at the back of Woodstock, prompted me to make an early morning visit on Saturday.Woodstock being a popular tourist town due to its proximity to Blenheim is a difficult place to park a car.There is one free public car park but it is normally full to capacity well before 9am, so on a very cold, frostbound but sunny morning I made sure I arrived early at 7am.

I had no problem parking and donning gloves and woolly hat to repel the cold  made the short walk to the small cemetery further down the road, turning through an open gate and taking the paved path through the brooding yews. I could see no one else, not even another birder and stood quietly in the shadow of a yew listening for the calls of Hawfinches or perhaps even a sighting. I thought I heard one call its distinctive tzik tzik but could not be sure.Sightings here are, according to previous reports always brief as they fly from yew to yew or arrive in two tall, bare trees that border the cemetery on either side and which allow them to survey the yews below before descending to feed.

I decided to stand and await developments, regularly checking the two tall trees.The tree to my right looked the best bet but the topmost twigs only harboured a few Starlings and Woodpigeons..I was joined by another Oxonbirder who told me he had ssen a Hawfinch a minute ago at the other end of the cemetery which had flown in my direction. We stood, not quite sure what to do as the sun slowly dispelled the shadows of the yews and illuminated the gravestones. 

We discussed how many Hawfinches we thought were present, there were three yesterday but so far only one had been seen today and not by me! Our number grew to three as another local birder joined us.Instinctively and more in hope than expectation I checked the tall tree on my right and found, along with the regular Starlings a distinctive big headed, short tailed finch perched on one of the outermost and highest twigs of the tree, silhouetted by the sun 

There's one! I exclaimed and indeed it was. 

A quick result and one that brought immense pleasure.To see a Hawfinch however briefly or distantly is always a thrill. Any birder will tell you this.

We watched it for a couple of minutes before it flew down into an adjacent back garden and of course became invisible. 

We remained, waiting for any movement amongst the yews that might betray the presence of other Hawfinches but the situation was complicated by the arrival of a number of Goldfinches and Greenfinches that also seemed to find the yews attractive to feed in and many a false alarm was occasioned by their activity in and amongst the yews.

Mind you it was a pleasure to see the Greenfinches which have become rather scarce as a result of a deadly disease called Trichomonosis, caused by a parasite that infects the mouth, throat and oesophagus and results in the infected bird, unable to feed or drink, starving and ultimately dying. Since the first discovery of the disease in 2000 the Greenfinch population in Britain has halved. Thankfully the Greenfinches I saw this morning were in robust health. The males looking particularly attractive in the bright sunshine.

Male Greenfinch

Various random sightings of Hawfinches came and went, all were brief, sudden and unexpected as they flew from yew to yew. I soon realised that our only chance of viewing them for more than seconds was to wait for one to fly up into either of the two tall, bare trees.Hawfinches being the ultra cautious bird they are almost always seek the tops of the highest trees first to re-assure themselves all is well before descending.

Female Hawfinch

On a number of occasions a Hawfinch perched in one of the two tall trees for a prolonged period and this gave an opportunity  for a few photos, albeit distantly.I estimated there were three present, a male and two females.

We hung around for another hour but the sightings became less and less and eventually it looked like they had departed. 

As usually happens in such cases each of us decided in our own time when to call it a day. I being the last to depart at just before 9am..

The Hawfinches were seen again briefly by another observer in the mid afternoon

 

Back to the Mediterraneans 28th February 2025

As has become my custom, today I made my annual visit to Hayling Island in Hampshire to view the pre-breeding congregation of Mediterranean Gulls that amass with Black headed Gulls on the now long defunct bunds of a former oyster farm situated in Langstone Harbour. 

Normally I go a little later in the second week of March but personal circumstances and an opportune spell of benign weather persuaded me to go today -  one of bright sun, crisp cold and a slight northeast breeze. Such conditions were as near ideal as possible for admiring and photographing these beautiful gulls, the only downside being my slightly premature visit meant the gulls were not all in their full breeding plumage with a good number yet to complete the transition from a white to all black head.

However I did manage to find some that had almost reached a perfection of plumage.

If I was a serious wildlife photographer and not a birder that photographs the birds he sees, I might have been disappointed but it was of little consequence to me as my main aim and delight was to see these gulls whatever the circumstance.In my opinion they are, when in breeding plumage one of the most beautiful gull species in the world.

Still some way to go to get its fully black hood

Predominantly white, even their grey backs are so pale they can appear almost white in strong sunlight harmonising with the rest of the plumage to create a luminescence that makes the gulls almost angelic in appearance when seen against a pure blue sky, as they were today

The head completes this gull's transformation into a creature of beauty, solid black with two white crescents surrounding each eye, red eyelids and a crimson bill, all combine to provide a shock of colour to the otherwise all white plumage. And, I almost forgot. pillar box red legs and feet.

It is a two hour car ride from my northwest Oxfordshire home to Hayling Oyster Beds which have now become West Hayling Nature Reserve, accessed by an easily overlooked turn off from a busy road that leads to a car park with capacity for no more than ten cars, overlooking Langstone Harbour. Today, arriving mid morning, the car park was predictably full but I managed to get a place just as a car conveniently departed.

A couple of hundred metres walk along a wet and muddy track beside the sea brings you to what remains of the oyster beds, with two bunds, whether by accident or design separated from the land and on which the gull colony have settled, as being surrounded by seawater at both low and high tide they are secure snd safe from predators and human disturbance. 

It is only as you reach the end of the track and come to the bunds that you become truly aware of the colony's visual and aural impact.

A cacophony of jarring sound assaults one's ears from the ceaseless cries of both the Black headed and Mediterranean Gulls, neither of which can be said to be tuneful.The Black headed Gull's peevish calls are prolonged and grating while the Mediterranean Gull's yelping exclamations are higher pitched and  more perfunctory. 

Visually the two bunds are a confetti of white with gulls perched on rocks, standing, sitting, preening, displaying, fighting or flying. It is a sight you can never be bored with as the ever changing constant activity of the gulls plays out before you.

Pairs of both species fly high in the sky. the Mediterranean's especially vocal as they wheel about above me or fly out into the harbour just as others return, finding it impossible to remain silent as they home in on the raucous cries of their fellows on the bunds. 

The scene before me appears to be one of utter chaos and confusion but it is nothing of the sort for the birds are busy establishing themselves, displaying and deciding on a mate. It is an ornithological version of speed dating if you like which will lead to the formation of breeding pairs..Few of the Mediterraneans remain here to nest, moving to the adjacent Langstone Harbour but the Black headed Gulls will breed here

The two species loosely keep to themselves on the bunds although an intermixing is inevitable on such a crowded and restricted area, although where and when they do come into contact the Mediterranean Gulls dominate.

Displaying Black headed Gulls

Gatherings of Mediterranean Gulls

Feeling I had taken enough images and with my camera arm beginning to ache I  stood back to embrace the moment and appreciate another of nature's wonders and a sure sign of the imminence of Spring. At this time of reflection I  could not get out of my thoughts how fortunate I am to be able to live in a country where I am free to enjoy this whilst others in distant lands live in fear of bombs and obliteration and tyrants and whose only hope is to survive until a better time might come.

The white gulls are almost emblematic of a peace that in this increasingly unsettled and dangerous world seems ever more elusive for so many.

A Few Hours at Farmoor 14th February 2025

Friday arrived and at last sunshine broke the monotony of a succession of grey days that have now become an almost permanent and depressing fixture in my part of Oxfordshire.

I decided to take advantage of this window of opportunity and made for my local Farmoor Reservoir at noon, hardly expecting to see much to get excited about but pleased to be away from the house.

At the back of my mind were a pair of European Stonechats that have set up a winter territory on the west side of Farmoor Two, the larger basin. I thought it would be nice to photograph them assuming they were still there.

Opting to  not initially walk the central causeway I chose to go 'the other way', heading left around Farmoor Two and to eventually return via the causeway. The sun was bright and low on the horizon, shining into my eyes as I turned left from the car park and set off along the perimeter track.A southeast wind blew into my face, cold and strong enough to turn the reservoir's waters into a corrugation of small waves that came to slap futilely against the shelving concrete at the water's edge.

A huddle of four Little Grebes had found a sunny spot by the wall of the valve tower where the water was less troubled and were whiling away the hours, preening or fussing amongst themselves as they ceaselessly bobbed up and down, their tiny bodies made even more rotund than usual by feathers fluffed against the chill wind, their tailess bottoms like powder puffs. 

All four remained in a winter plumage of unexceptional and varying shades of buff brown, the only striking feature being the pale lemon yellow adornments at the base of their stub like bills

It alway strikes me as odd that these tiny creatures, so reclusive when breeding, hiding within thick stands of reeds on ponds and small secluded lakes, choose to spend the winter on the open and expansive waters of the  reservoir and almost exclusively choose the larger and more exposed of the two basins. They are obviously aware of their vulnerability and will often seek to hide beside the buoys or pontoons that are moored in the reservoir for the use of the yacht club. I can only think that the plentiful supply of small fish that inhabit the shallow edges of the reservoir outweighs the inherent dangers of frequenting such open water.

Today I counted twelve, in three groups of four each, which is a good number for Farmoor and whilst standing watching them going about their day I pondered if this comparatively high number reflected the fact that some were migrants rather than overwintering birds, making their way back to their breeding locations.They will certainly not breed here as only one pair to my knowledge do so and that is on the small Pinkhill Reserve just beyond the western end of the reservoir beside the Thames

Leaving the grebes to enjoy their sunny spot I moved on a few hundred metres to where the perimeter track curved to the right around the southeastern edge of the reservoir, stopping to admire a small gathering of Coots and Tufted Ducks. These two are often found in association as the reservoir is overrun with the invasive quagga mussel which the Tufted Ducks dive for and the Coots try to steal from the ducks when they surface with a mussel.

The ducks, wise to the Coots motives, mainly swallow the mussels underwater but those that they bring to the surface are often stolen by the Coots.The Coot's bill is not substantial enough to open the mussel but the attraction for the Coots is the weed that adheres to the shell of the mussel. On gaining a mussel the Coot will bring it to shore in order to pick at the weed which it removes and eats 

This arrangement seems to work and the Coots and Tufted Ducks for the most part exist in harmony.

At the peak of winter there can be hundreds of Coots wintering here and the same goes for the Tufted Ducks but now the numbers have decreased as wintering individuals move away, heading back towards their breeding areas. Some Tufted Ducks can go as far as Siberia, the Coots maybe not so far but no one can say for certain.

Today a Coot and a male Tufted Duck were taking time out to rest on the concrete shelving which is not an uncommon sight, when later in the day parts of the reservoir are less frequented by human visitors.

As the winter progresses the birds inevitably become familiar with the now regular and increased passing of people on the perimeter track, using the reservoir as a safe leisure facility and can be approached quite closely without being unduly alarmed. It never fails to disappoint me how many people just walk by ignoring these birds that normally they would not get so close to. Stop and look if but for a few seconds. I can guarantee you will feel a benefit.

The drake Tufted Duck is a very striking bird in its breeding plumage of contrasting black and white, the head when caught at certain angles in the sunlight glows with green and purple iridescence, the whole set off by a bill of palest blue and bright, golden yellow eyes. 

The two males pictured above show a marked difference in the length of their tufts

I read somewhere that one can tell older male Tufted Ducks from younger ones by the length of the tuft.How true this is I do not know but a cursory inspection of some of the males today certainly demonstrated that their tufts varied considerably in length. 

I moved onwards, coming to a metal pontoon used by the yacht club, two thirds of the way along the southern bank. I stood in contemplative mood looking out across the blue waters to the distant causeway opposite. From the corner of my eye I saw a small wader fly from the concrete shelving to the left of where I stood and out to the pontoon jutting out into the reservoir. I knew what it was or at least had a strong suspicion that it was the wintering Common Sandpiper that has decided to forgo the hazards of flying to its Southern Hemisphere winter home in Africa and risk toughing it out at Farmoor in the Northern Hemisphere. The risk seems to have paid off as it appears in robust health and hopefully the worst of our winter has now passed. Questions inevitably arise, the most obvious being whether this bird's unusual presence is a sign of increasing global warming. but more esoteric is why does one individual such as this decide to ignore its genetic programming and not travel to its normal winter quarters thousands of miles to the south. There is still so much we do not comprehend about birds and why they do what they do.

This is the third year in a row that a Common Sandpiper has wintered at the reservoir. Some have suggested that it has been the same individual in all three years but I think not. For the first two years a Common Sandpiper favoured the filter beds on the far side of Farmoor 1, the smaller basin and remained faithful to them to a greater extent throughout both winters. So possibly this was the same individual in both winters. However this winter's Common Sandpiper has mainly favoured the southern and western parts of Farmoor 2 and has to a large extent remained loyal to that area.Whatever the answer and I guess we will never know, I feel I am making an educated guess that it is a different individual this winter. 

The feeding opportunities along the concrete shelving has obviously been adequate enough to sustain this latest wintering bird even during the harshest parts of winter..The reservoir never freezes over and the water's edge remains free of ice so presumably retains enough invertebrate life to sustain the sandpiper.

Due to its prolonged stay the sandpiper has become much less wary than is normal for their kind. Common Sandpipers are without doubt one of the wariest of migrant waders that visit the reservoir and will flush well before you get anywhere near them.This one however is the opposite and will allow a relatively close approach so I made the most of this happy circumstance while it remained on the pontoon. Eventually it flew to the concrete shelving by the water's edge and I left it to wander amongst some sleepy Mallards in its ongoing search for food.

I was by now nearing the stonechats favoured location, a decrepit plastic coated wire fence that runs along part of the western boundary of the reservoir but before I got there I stopped to check a group of Cormorants idling away the time on yet another of the yacht club's pontoons.

Cormorants are a regular feature here, present virtually year round and you can hardly blame them as Thames Water conveniently stocks both reservoir basins with trout for the fishermen that pay quite a lot of money to come and catch them.There were around twenty birds on the pontoon, some asleep, others holding wings out to dry and most looked to be adults although there was one brown individual that must have been born last year. Cormorants do not breed or gain full adult plumage until they are three years old. Some of the adults were gaining their rather spectacular breeding plumage whereby a basically black, featureless bird becomes something much more varied and colourful.

One bird in particular was well advanced,with a head that was most noticeably different to its neighbours, the black crown and sides of the head replaced with fine white feathering as if dusted with icing sugar.The cheeks, also white, contrasted with an area, (called the gular pouch) of  reddish orange and olive bare skin adjoining a bill  mottled grey on the upper and white on the lower mandibles Quite a dramatic transformation. Blue green eyes and wing feathers with an bronze caste, neatly outlined in black added to the subtle beauty of a bird often derided as unattractive in appearance and clumsy in its behaviour

The Cormorant  at Farmoor that was in full breeding plumage and which I consider
identifiable as of the British race P.c.carbo due to the acute angle of the gular pouch  

The Cormorants that come here are of two races Phalacrocorax.carbo.sinensis colloquially called the 'Continental Cormorant' and P. c carbo the 'British Cormorant' and there appeared to be a mixture of the two on the pontoon. A not totally failsafe way to identify them is by noting the angle of the gular pouch which is more acute on carbo than it is on sinenis

Two Cormorants with possibly carbo on the left and sinensis on the right

Colour ringed Cormorants are seen here  from time to time and two such examples in past winters were identified as coming from Wales and northern Scotland and indeed today there was one with a green plastic ring on its left leg but it was impossible to read the white inscription, try as I did to get a  photograph, but the angle the bird was perched at made it impossible to record the white lettering on the ring so I had to remain frustrated.

Now I made for the fence and its hoped for complement of stonechats.Would they be there? The answer was a disappointing and deflating - no. I could hardly believe it as they have been an almost permanent presence these last few weeks. They are partial to the fence as it provides an elevated  look out on which to perch and drop down on prey in the rough grass on either side of the fence. Incidentally although these are a pair they will not breed here and may well split up and pair with a different mate at wherever they go to breed.

Not prepared to give up I walked through the gate that leads outside of the reservoir and down the zigzag sloping path to view the fence from the other side.Still nothing was evident to excite me and I resigned myself to not seeing them.

Taking one last glance at the fence through my bins, there appeared a distant tiny blob perched on top of the fence.It was as I hoped, a stonechat. 

At last. 

Moving closer, much closer, I could see it was the male of the pair..He remained perched there for some time and eventually was joined by his mate that flew up from the ground below. I moved towards them, intent on getting a photo or two but they were wary. Sometimes it can go either way with stonechats. Last year a similar pair on exactly the same fence allowed me to get very close but this year not so, although the female appeared more confiding than the male, who was very skittish and his nervousness clearly transmitted to the female.

European Stonechat -female

I stalked them from both sides of the fence but it was difficult and the outcome unsatisfactory. They would make long flights away from me and in some cases disappeared altogether only to suddenly re-appear much further along the fence. I got some images from long range and accepted I had to be content with that.Nevertheless it was nice to see them, watch their robin like behaviour and enjoy their jaunty personalities

European Stonechat - male

European Stonechat- female

My time was up but for the last two hours I had indulged myself in the natural world that is all around us and came away feeling content and fulfilled. 

It is not always about rare birds.