Late Arrivals at Farmoor 4th June 2019

Various personal and social commitments  ensured that birding came very much second today and of course this meant that three Avocets chose this very same day to land by the causeway at Farmoor Reservoir. Sometimes you just have to give a shrug and accept that fate and timing sometimes does not work in your favour.

By the time I was in a position to go and see the Avocets it was lunchtime and they had flown off so that was that.

The afternoon was also marked off for non birding as the Gas Board are laying new pipes in our village and required access to the house to re-connect the gas, and then it commenced to rain heavily so I resigned myself to the fact that today was to be one of total frustration.

Once the gas had been re-connected in the late afternoon I was free and it occurred to me that the now dispersing  rain might have persuaded some other waders to make a brief stop by the water's edge at Farmoor. It is getting late now for migrating waders to be seen at the reservoir but the first week in June can always turn something up and indeed had today, with the arrival of the three Avocets, so there was still a chance of something else arriving, maybe a Sanderling or two, my favourite Farmoor wader. One thing was certain I would never know unless I went to Farmoor.

I got to the reservoir at around five thirty and the rain had now cleared although the skies were still a mass of billowing grey and white clouds, allowing the occasional shaft of sunlight  to shine down through them as they sped across the sky, driven on by a strong southwest wind. Slowly the sun took on a more prolonged presence and again I found myself in that golden hour or two that can come before dusk at Farmoor.

I scanned along both edges of the causeway but could see no sign of any waders at the water's edge. The larger reservoir was very busy with yachts and windsurfers taking full advantage of the strong wind. I assumed that any passing wader would find it preferable to be on the other side of the causeway where it was sheltered from the prevailing wind and they would be away  from  any disturbance from the  yachting folk, whizzing by in their craft but there was no sign of any wader at all, just a few Mallards, Black headed Gulls and the omni present Greylag Geese.

The Causeway at Farmoor

I walked half way up the causeway and looked again along the windward side where the water was being dashed into foam and spray against the shelving concrete. Still there was nothing to see or was there? Looking back, down and along the concrete shelving, a small blob transformed itself in my bins into a Sanderling! How had I missed it? Standing stock still and looking out over the water, its white and pale chestnut plumage made it well nigh invisible, its tiny form dwarfed against the expansive and similarly coloured concrete

I walked back towards it slowly, very slowly and it remained where it was, unafraid and seeming more concerned about the yachts and windsurfers scudding past, close by. It stood firm, facing into the wind and I approached as close as I dared until it gave signs that maybe I was  getting just a little too close for comfort. I took the hint and gently sat down on the retaining wall, some metres away, and the Sanderling relaxed, pattered about a bit looking for food in a desultory kind of way and then resumed its vigil.

It is unusual for a Sanderling to be so still. Usually they are hyperactive little birds forever on the move but it was not really interested in feeding, so probably was tired and taking a break from its migration before resuming the long flight northwards. To a tired wader passing high in the sky across landlocked Oxfordshire, the waters of Farmoor, with their concrete edges, must appear as the next best thing to a seashore and consequently they drop down to rest and feed.

I sat for a good twenty minutes watching and taking pictures of this lone Sanderling. Looking through the camera all I see is the bird. The rest disappears, the yachts, windsurfers, gulls, other people passing by, all are forgotten as through the lens I enter another world, that of a tiny wader, the sole focus of my attention.

This tiny scrap of life hardly moved but stood facing into the wind, occasionally retreating slightly as a froth of wave came too close. It was content to stand quietly in this simulation of its normal habitat, a bonus for it to find such a refuge in the middle of England.

It could not last however, as Farmoor is a popular venue for not only birders and yacht's people but  joggers and runners have now discovered the delights of running around the reservoir and one such came huffing along, innocently unaware of the tiny bird stood below, and of course the Sanderling took alarm at seeing a looming figure running towards it and fled out across the reservoir, describing a large arc before returning back to the causeway but some way further back. 

On this occasion the runner worked in my favour as further along the causeway he inadvertently flushed two more Sanderling which also flew out over the reservoir in alarm and then circled back to land not too far away from me, still sat on the causeway wall.

I approached them but they were thoroughly on edge and ran on twinkling legs as fast as they could along the causeway and away from me. I followed at a discreet distance but they were unsettled. I sat on the wall and they stopped running on seeing me not coming any closer. Cautious and anxious at first they stood looking at me enquiringly but then perceiving no danger, relaxed. It is obvious when they do this as their attenuated profile caused by their closely sleeked feathers loosens and the bird becomes more rounded and looks more at ease.

I knew then that they would not run further and had to hope that no one would come along the causeway to further alarm them. At this time of day the reservoir is usually deserted and fortunately the causeway, as far as I could see, was  devoid of humankind.

For some minutes I sat on the wall and the two Sanderlings stood quietly, one even tucking its bill into its feathers to sleep, albeit very briefly whilst the other spent some time adjusting its feathers in preparation for onward flight.Then they commenced a brief spell of feeding and even began to wander towards me and approached almost up to where I was sitting. 

These two Sanderling were also showing definite evidence of their lovely chestnut breeding plumage although one was in a more retarded state of moult and looked a little dishevelled in comparison to its smarter looking companion. 

The Sanderling with the duller plumage

The Sanderling with the brighter plumage

Like the previous single Sanderling, apart from a few desultory pecks, they were not really too interested in feeding and rest was their priority, so I kept my distance and they stood quietly by the waves, waiting until the migratory urge took them once more up into the air and onwards.