Double Delight 15th August 2019

In previous writings on this blog I mentioned that I hold a special regard for Sanderlings, especially when they pass through Farmoor on their Spring migration and are in their breeding colours.

By the time they return, which is now, those same richly coloured feathers have become faded and worn and they are not so attractive but the birds themselves still retain the immense charm that is an innate characteristic of all small wader species.

However juvenile Sanderlings, raised in the far north just a few weeks ago and now migrating south, easily match the adult for beauty as they have a delightfully intricate chequering of black and white on their upperparts, giving them a marbled appearance. Such is the intricacy and freshness of the plumage, the birds always look an immaculate ghostly grey and white. A subtle buff shading to the neck and sides of their breast is the only marking on their otherwise pure white underparts.

So you can imagine my delight when two juvenile Sanderlings touched down on Farmoor's concrete edge yesterday, a day of rain and low grey cloud. Juveniles such as these are by no means an annual occurence at Farmoor, so I made a special effort to go and see them and so rewarding was the experience I made time to go and see them again today, as the weather, although still windy was sunny and the Sanderlings would look at their very best.

Yesterday they were feeding along the water's edge by the central causeway and even by small wader standards of approachability were exceptional, in that I could, if I so wished, virtually stand next to them and they would be completely indifferent to my presence. Sanderlings always seem to be in a hurry, scampering along on twinkling black legs that move at an incredible speed for such a small bird, so fast they become a blur of motion. They delight in feeding at the edge of the water and Farmoor's waters, currently being stirred into a turmoil by a strong southwest wind provided the next best thing to the waves that they love to chase in and out at the seashore

They kept very much together, communicating with quiet conversational peeps, each bird running to catch up when it got left behind by its companion, often racing ahead, whereupon the other would run to catch it up. 

Today, on returning to the reservoir I could not find them despite having been told they had been seen up until noon at least. I walked the central causeway to no avail, finding just five Dunlin. I carried on round the perimeter of Farmoor One, the smaller of the two reservoirs, hoping I would find them feeding quietly by the water's edge on the far shore. A Northern Shoveler swam out from the bank where it had been snoozing, sheltering from the still strong wind with the moulting and now mostly flightless Mallards. 

Northern Shoveler

Further on four Common Sandpipers flew from the concrete and out over the waves of the reservoir but there was no sign of the Sanderlings. On getting to the grass bank opposite the water works, having almost completed a circuit of Farmoor One, I found a dapper young Northern Wheatear feeding on the bank. A nice surprise indeed and almost compensation for the absent Sanderlings. The wheatear hopped energetically along in front of me. alternately standing as if at attention and then dashing after an insect.

Northern Wheatear

I met Dai who confirmed he had last seen the Sanderlings today, right in front of the yacht club, totally untroubled by the swarms of youngsters being given sailing lessons and the windsurfers taking advantage of the windy conditions. He thought the Sanderlings must still be here somewhere.We walked back up the causeway and while I retreated into the bird hide that is halfway along the causeway Dai said he would carry on and walk round Farmoor Two, the larger reservoir and if he saw the Sanderlings would call me.

I sat in the hide, put my feet up to rest and checked messages on my phone. Thirty minutes, later and bored, I made my way back down the causeway to the yacht club to await Dai completing his circuit of the reservoir. As I approached the yacht club, the mini harbour in front with its temporary pontoons and a clutter of yachting paraphernalia was busy and noisy with windsurfers, erecting the sails of their boards and yacht's people coming and going in various craft. 

It was then that I saw them. Two tiny scraps of life, completely at ease amongst the commotion of the sailing folk's activities, standing relaxed on one leg, contemplating, well who knows? 

They were stood on the concrete, almost under the wavewall and I wondered how I could have missed them on my arrival but I had. I consoled my injured pride with the fact they were wonderfully camouflaged, their black and white chequered plumage blending perfectly against the mottled concrete on which they stood. 

Their location, right in amongst the busiest, most disturbed part of the reservoir, was also the last place I expected to find them but was no excuse for my complacency. I must have walked right by them, literally, as this part of the reservoir is normally only inhabited by belligerent Coots  and thus tends to be dismissed as not worth pausing to check. Hordes of shrieking excited children learning to sail also persuades one to pass by as quickly as possible!

I sat down on the retaining wall a few feet from them, ignoring the constantly passing traffic of windsurfers and sailors in their wet suits  The Sanderlings looked up at me, slightly curious but untroubled and I clicked away with the camera. A noisily flapping sail from a surfboard disturbed them into activity and they commenced hurrying along the water's edge, feeding as they went, covering some thirty metres, then turned and came back. 

They paused and then walked up from the water's edge to stand once more, a few metres apart, to rest. Looking at their plump little bodies it was impossible not to be charmed by their innocence and their complete lack of fear of human beings, the like of which they probably had never seen before.

One commenced preening, burying its black bill deep in its soft breast feathers. There was something very relaxing about watching this small bird preening, as its bill disappeared into the depths of the feathers, a similar feeling, if you like, to snuggling into a warm jumper or plumping a pillow. A comforting action of re-arrangement and re-assurance.

Satisfied all was in order the Sanderling ceased its brief spell of feather maintenance and stood quietly, retracting one leg into its white underparts, to stand in repose. Look closely though and you can see the Sanderling is forever alert, constantly moving its head in small lateral movements to check all is well. 

Not for long did it remain still. A slow luxurious upwards stretch of both wings to their maximum extent signalled that the equivalent of Sanderling down time was over. Its companion followed suit and both were soon scuttling along at high speed as they fed along the water's edge, dodging the  waves slapping on a green blanket of algae, or wandering higher up the shelf of concrete to probe in the myriad small cracks.

I left them busily fussing along at the water's edge. I do hope they are there tomorrow. They were!!