Last Saturday, the 14th of October, I went with my twitching pal Clackers and Shirley (Mrs Clackers) to see a male Rufous tailed Rock Thrush at a place called Gilwern Hill that is 1300ft up in the Brecon Beacons National Park near Blaenavon in Gwent, Wales.
Clackers had never seen a rock thrush and I had only seen one before in Britain, a female at Spurn Point, Yorkshire on 25th April 2013, so it was a worthwhile bird for both of us to go and see, especially Clackers.
After a mile walk along a wet and muddy track heading northwest from the minor road where we parked, we got to where the rock thrush had last been seen half an hour earlier, which was in a disused quarry, one of three, running in sequence alongside the track and all now long defunct.
After quite a wait the rock thrush was finally located but the views we got were somewhat distant with the bird choosing to remain on rocks high up on the face of the disused quarry that loomed over where we were standing on some grassy mounds above the track. Behind us was a precipitous drop, down into a wide valley with the towns of Blaenavon and Abergavenny spread out far below in the distance. It was very picturesque, remote and ruggedly beautiful.
The Rock Thrush never came anywhere near us while we were there but Clackers was happy to have just seen the bird and delighted that he had stood up to the rigours of walking over a mile of rough terrain on his bad leg.
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| The distant view of the rock thrush on my original visit with Clackers |
During the following week I noticed on social media some very good images of the rock thrush were being posted, which obviously meant that since our visit the rock thrush was being seen a whole lot closer than we had seen it. It transpired that it had settled down near the third and most distant quarry from the road and photographers had used meal worms to attract it to one particular area where it could be seen well. This is something about which I am equivocal as the practice becomes ever more prevalent with the burgeoning of expensive digital cameras and high powered lenses amongst people professing an interest in photographing birds and other forms of wildlife.
I resolved to make another trip this Sunday to go and see the rock thrush, hopefully a lot closer than on my last visit, as it is an extremely attractively plumaged bird.
I left home at 8am to make a journey of an hour and a half to Blaenavon. I was in no hurry and drove contemplatively along roads that at this time of day were virtually free of traffic.It was a pleasant journey on a typical late autumn morning, much of it in rural surroundings. As I passed northwest through the Cotswolds I noticed the leaves on the trees were turning from green to copper and yellow, the varied colours contrasting with the leaden grey sky, and with many leaves being stripped by the wind and blown like confetti across the road to form pockets of colour in hollows by the verge. This is pheasant shooting country and cock Pheasants, now in their full plumage, strutted in stately and lordly fashion across the lonely road, whilst the females, always in little groups, dithered, uncertain about my onrushing vehicle and then dashed at the very last moment, tails pointed skywards and necks craning, for the safety of the verge on the far side of the road. Many of the fields I passed were now ploughed, with the rich brown soil awaiting the shoots of winter sown crops to arise.
And so this pleasant idyll continued as I drove, virtually alone, on the road leading past Ross on Wye and into Wales. Monmouth followed by Abergavenny, came and went, and shortly after the Satnav instructed me to turn off the dual carriageway beyond Abergavenny and take a much narrower road, rising ever higher, twisting and turning through wooded slopes before crossing a cattle grid and bursting out onto an open, windswept moorland hillside high above the town, and looking across I could see Gilwern Hill, my ultimate destination, on the other side of the valley. Up and up I went and then at the crest of the hill turned right and took an even narrower single track road to park, after a mile, in a layby a few hundred metres from the track leading to the quarries. As the rock thrush had been present for over eleven days I assumed there would be few birders or photographers bothering to come and see it but I was quite wrong.There must have been over thirty cars parked perilously on the narrow green verge by the road.
The wind at this elevation had taken on close to gale force gusts but it was sunny and once I got walking, not too cold. Gilwern Hill is now, as I mentioned, part of The Brecon Beacons National Park and the track that I followed inland from the road was formerly a Tramway that served the three quarries where, between 1800-1920 limestone rock was quarried for Blaenavon Ironworks. Now long abandoned, the quarries still remain impressive and testify to a time when this part of the world was industrial and a place of toil rather than, as it is now, an area for recreation and leisure.
The isolation of this elevated and remote location was, for today, invaded by quite a number of birders mixing with the occasional hiker and dog walker but despite this there was still a sense, an echo if you like in its solitary rugged abandonment and industrial past.
I headed along the wet and at times muddy track, walking, head down, into a wind that was continuously gusting ferociously and making my eyes water. I passed the first two quarries, their deep cavernous excavations hidden by the spoil that had been tipped from them and now long since reclaimed by nature and naturally grassed over to form soft contured mounds by the track.To look down into the quarries one has to climb from the track, up and over these uneven mounds to look into the deep heart of the quarry,
I carried on, passing the location where I had seen the rock thrush with Clackers the week before but there was no sign of any birders, so I pressed on and passing a birder coming the other way elicited the fact that another ten minutes walking would bring me to the spot currently frequented by the rock thrush. 'I couldn't miss it or the birders' he told me
I turned another wind blasted corner and there in a little amphitheatre just to the left of the track, sat or stood on some more grassed over mounds adjacent to a small quarry, thirty or so birders and/or photographers, looking at a little ridge of small rocks and stones not fifteen metres distant.
I resolved to make another trip this Sunday to go and see the rock thrush, hopefully a lot closer than on my last visit, as it is an extremely attractively plumaged bird.
I left home at 8am to make a journey of an hour and a half to Blaenavon. I was in no hurry and drove contemplatively along roads that at this time of day were virtually free of traffic.It was a pleasant journey on a typical late autumn morning, much of it in rural surroundings. As I passed northwest through the Cotswolds I noticed the leaves on the trees were turning from green to copper and yellow, the varied colours contrasting with the leaden grey sky, and with many leaves being stripped by the wind and blown like confetti across the road to form pockets of colour in hollows by the verge. This is pheasant shooting country and cock Pheasants, now in their full plumage, strutted in stately and lordly fashion across the lonely road, whilst the females, always in little groups, dithered, uncertain about my onrushing vehicle and then dashed at the very last moment, tails pointed skywards and necks craning, for the safety of the verge on the far side of the road. Many of the fields I passed were now ploughed, with the rich brown soil awaiting the shoots of winter sown crops to arise.
And so this pleasant idyll continued as I drove, virtually alone, on the road leading past Ross on Wye and into Wales. Monmouth followed by Abergavenny, came and went, and shortly after the Satnav instructed me to turn off the dual carriageway beyond Abergavenny and take a much narrower road, rising ever higher, twisting and turning through wooded slopes before crossing a cattle grid and bursting out onto an open, windswept moorland hillside high above the town, and looking across I could see Gilwern Hill, my ultimate destination, on the other side of the valley. Up and up I went and then at the crest of the hill turned right and took an even narrower single track road to park, after a mile, in a layby a few hundred metres from the track leading to the quarries. As the rock thrush had been present for over eleven days I assumed there would be few birders or photographers bothering to come and see it but I was quite wrong.There must have been over thirty cars parked perilously on the narrow green verge by the road.
The wind at this elevation had taken on close to gale force gusts but it was sunny and once I got walking, not too cold. Gilwern Hill is now, as I mentioned, part of The Brecon Beacons National Park and the track that I followed inland from the road was formerly a Tramway that served the three quarries where, between 1800-1920 limestone rock was quarried for Blaenavon Ironworks. Now long abandoned, the quarries still remain impressive and testify to a time when this part of the world was industrial and a place of toil rather than, as it is now, an area for recreation and leisure.
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| The track alongside the quarries on what was the former Industrial Tramway to the quarries. |
I headed along the wet and at times muddy track, walking, head down, into a wind that was continuously gusting ferociously and making my eyes water. I passed the first two quarries, their deep cavernous excavations hidden by the spoil that had been tipped from them and now long since reclaimed by nature and naturally grassed over to form soft contured mounds by the track.To look down into the quarries one has to climb from the track, up and over these uneven mounds to look into the deep heart of the quarry,
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| One of the Quarries |
I turned another wind blasted corner and there in a little amphitheatre just to the left of the track, sat or stood on some more grassed over mounds adjacent to a small quarry, thirty or so birders and/or photographers, looking at a little ridge of small rocks and stones not fifteen metres distant.
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| Birders looking at the Rock Thrush perched on the rock face |
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| Birders and photographers admiring the Rock Thrush on the stony ridge |
All were pointing lenses or telescopes at the ridge. I sat next to a photographer with an enormous lens and following his lead saw the rock thrush sitting on the small rocks doing its best to shelter from the wind.
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| Rufous tailed Rock Thrush squeezed into the rocks for shelter |
My first view of the rock thrush this time was a world away from my last. It was beautifully camouflaged amongst the rocks, its white fringed and spotted upperpart feathers blending perfectly with the grey and white mottled rocks and stones, and even on the ground it was surprisingly hard to see, such was the effectiveness of its mottled and speckled plumage merging into its background.
Its underparts were rich orange chestnut but again with much mottling from the pale feather fringes with flecks of black at their tips.When it turned away from me I could see the white back between the wings and the bright rufous rump and short tail. Its head was a pale buff colour, the grey being concealed by broad buff fringes stippled with flecks of darker colour and it showed a prominent buff eye ring.
Starling shaped but larger, overall it looked bulky and compact, this impression being accentuated by its short tail barely projecting beyond the wing tips. The wind was obviously bothering it and eventually it insinuated itself between two rocks that sheltered it from the wind but it did not remain there long before flying up to the nearby rock face above us and sheltering there in a little nook out of the wind.
We all waited and I moved position to get away from a particularly loud and foul mouthed gent who kept swearing about the wind and photographers. He needed to be careful as he was considerably out numbered but all of us just rolled our eyes and ignored his invective. Two other birders had even brought their small dog but the dog was, for once, well behaved so there was no strife there.
What I was unaware of at the time but realised later, watching the rock thrush feed, was that the short grass in front of the little stone ridge had been liberally strewn with mealworms, in fact there were so many they almost formed a narrow carpet of food on the grass. A Northern Wheatear had also found this food source and was making the most of it and entertaining us while the rock thrush sat it out on its ledge on the rock face.
It then flew back to the favoured stony ridge. It was obvious it knew that here was an ongoing, readily available food source of mealworms. It had difficulty maintaining its balance flying in the wind and veered wildly in flight due to the gusting wind and indeed the wind force was so strong in the gusts, that one particularly fierce and prolonged blast nearly knocked me off my feet and I retreated to a less exposed position in the lee of the rock face
The rock thrush hopped down from the stones and proceeded to select a mealworm. It ate it and then sat for a while amongst the mealworms before choosing another. Obviously well fed and in no hurry, the rock thrush proceeded to give me grandstand views down to ten metres, as it alternately fed and then relaxed, contentedly perched on the ground. The Northern Wheatear also tried its luck and every so often the rock thrush would make a desultory lunge at the wheatear in defence of its mealworm bonanza but there was more than enough to go around and the rock thrush never pressed home any of its attacks.
Now I know I took full advantage of the photographers baiting the area but I did feel a lingering unease about the ethics and wisdom of all this artificial feeding. This bird is currently well away from its native wintering habitat, although the quarry is virtually the same as its normal habitat. It should by rights now be in its wintering area in sub Saharan Africa but will the mealworms persuade it to remain here longer than it should and then when the photographers get tired of it will the food source be no more and it will be forced to migrate, hopefully not too late? It's just a thought.
Rufous tailed Rock Thrushes are essentially an alpine species and I have seen them myself at the top of the Pecos de Europa in northern Spain. They breed on steep, dry, rocky mountainous slopes and alpine meadows above 1500m and are widespread southwards from northern Spain and Portugal across Europe, breeding as close to us as southern France and Switzerland, then around the Mediterranean, extending east to central Asia, the Lake Baikal region in Russia, Mongolia and across China to northern Tibet. It is a nocturnal, long distance migrant, retreating to spend the winter south of the Sahara in southern Africa. One ringed bird returned for three successive winters from northeast China to the same wintering area in northern Tanzania, a journey of over 8000km.
This particular bird in Wales is only the twenty ninth to be recorded in Britain with another two having being found in Ireland and normally it is a very shy species hence the great attraction of this confiding and rare bird in Britain, to birders and photographers alike.
I watched it and took its photo for over an hour and a half. It had a routine where it would spend most of its time sat on the ground or the ridge of stones near the mealworms, occasionally venturing to pick at a mealworm, eating it and then sitting with feathers fluffed up, obviously at ease. After it had fed enough it would fly up onto the nearby rock face and sit there until it felt hungry again when it would fly down once more. I also noticed a couple of curious behavioural traits. The first was it examined its feet at regular intervals. As to why I have no idea but it did it on a fairly regular basis.The other was it appeared to be quietly singing to itself, although, because of the wind, it was impossible to hear any sub song but its bill was frequently partially open and I think this is what it was doing. I have seen similar behaviour in autumn and winter from a male European Stonechat at Stanton Harcourt in Oxfordshire and a male Eastern Black Redstart at Skinningrove in North Yorkshire.
The wind continued to come in gusts, some incredibly fierce and there was little shelter but there were brief periods of relative calm when it was possible to hold the camera and lens steady. I began to feel the cold and, having met two birding friends from Sussex, decided to leave when they did and walk with them the mile or so back to the car, even as other birders were making their way past us to see the rock thrush.
Starling shaped but larger, overall it looked bulky and compact, this impression being accentuated by its short tail barely projecting beyond the wing tips. The wind was obviously bothering it and eventually it insinuated itself between two rocks that sheltered it from the wind but it did not remain there long before flying up to the nearby rock face above us and sheltering there in a little nook out of the wind.
We all waited and I moved position to get away from a particularly loud and foul mouthed gent who kept swearing about the wind and photographers. He needed to be careful as he was considerably out numbered but all of us just rolled our eyes and ignored his invective. Two other birders had even brought their small dog but the dog was, for once, well behaved so there was no strife there.
What I was unaware of at the time but realised later, watching the rock thrush feed, was that the short grass in front of the little stone ridge had been liberally strewn with mealworms, in fact there were so many they almost formed a narrow carpet of food on the grass. A Northern Wheatear had also found this food source and was making the most of it and entertaining us while the rock thrush sat it out on its ledge on the rock face.
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| Northern Wheatear |
Fifteen minutes must have passed before the rock thrush flew down onto a large rock on the ground and then onto the grass and commenced to preen.
It then flew back to the favoured stony ridge. It was obvious it knew that here was an ongoing, readily available food source of mealworms. It had difficulty maintaining its balance flying in the wind and veered wildly in flight due to the gusting wind and indeed the wind force was so strong in the gusts, that one particularly fierce and prolonged blast nearly knocked me off my feet and I retreated to a less exposed position in the lee of the rock face
The rock thrush hopped down from the stones and proceeded to select a mealworm. It ate it and then sat for a while amongst the mealworms before choosing another. Obviously well fed and in no hurry, the rock thrush proceeded to give me grandstand views down to ten metres, as it alternately fed and then relaxed, contentedly perched on the ground. The Northern Wheatear also tried its luck and every so often the rock thrush would make a desultory lunge at the wheatear in defence of its mealworm bonanza but there was more than enough to go around and the rock thrush never pressed home any of its attacks.
Now I know I took full advantage of the photographers baiting the area but I did feel a lingering unease about the ethics and wisdom of all this artificial feeding. This bird is currently well away from its native wintering habitat, although the quarry is virtually the same as its normal habitat. It should by rights now be in its wintering area in sub Saharan Africa but will the mealworms persuade it to remain here longer than it should and then when the photographers get tired of it will the food source be no more and it will be forced to migrate, hopefully not too late? It's just a thought.
Rufous tailed Rock Thrushes are essentially an alpine species and I have seen them myself at the top of the Pecos de Europa in northern Spain. They breed on steep, dry, rocky mountainous slopes and alpine meadows above 1500m and are widespread southwards from northern Spain and Portugal across Europe, breeding as close to us as southern France and Switzerland, then around the Mediterranean, extending east to central Asia, the Lake Baikal region in Russia, Mongolia and across China to northern Tibet. It is a nocturnal, long distance migrant, retreating to spend the winter south of the Sahara in southern Africa. One ringed bird returned for three successive winters from northeast China to the same wintering area in northern Tanzania, a journey of over 8000km.
This particular bird in Wales is only the twenty ninth to be recorded in Britain with another two having being found in Ireland and normally it is a very shy species hence the great attraction of this confiding and rare bird in Britain, to birders and photographers alike.
The wind continued to come in gusts, some incredibly fierce and there was little shelter but there were brief periods of relative calm when it was possible to hold the camera and lens steady. I began to feel the cold and, having met two birding friends from Sussex, decided to leave when they did and walk with them the mile or so back to the car, even as other birders were making their way past us to see the rock thrush.
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