Today found me driving to the RSPB's Bempton Cliffs reserve in Yorkshire in another attempt to see a Black browed Albatross. This time the elusive bird had first been seen yesterday evening and then earlier today, flying along the cliffs and joining the Gannets that breed there. I got to Bempton at around 2.30pm but was three hours too late.The albatross had flown north at 1130am and despite a crowd of over 200 birders waiting until dusk to see if it would make a re-appearance, it never did.
This was my second dip at seeing this much wanted addition to my British list and such a shame as this time the chance of seeing it looked so good but it was not to be. In such a situation there is nothing to do but accept that not all twitches can be successful and this, unfortunately was one of them.
Bempton however, has much else to offer, especially at this time of year when the various seabirds nesting on the huge cliffs are at their spectacular best and even without an albatross on offer it is always a worthwhile and rewarding experience to visit there to see the breeding seabirds.The six hours I spent at Bempton were therefore not wasted from my personal point of view as I spent the time happily watching and photographing the abundant seabirds currently nesting on the cliffs.
The afternoon was not the best weatherwise, being beset by high winds and nasty rain squalls, that were chilling and inconvenient but not enough to prevent me from appreciating and enjoying the birdlife all around me. I stood on one of the specially constructed viewpoints, as did many others, looking out to sea or along the cliffs, finding a vacant place on the lookout point from which to watch a multitude of Gannets, Razorbills, Guillemots, Puffins and Kittiwakes riding the wind or perched on precarious ledges along the impressive cliffs.
I took some of the usual classic shots of Gannets in flight, their white forms wheeling above a grey and cold looking North Sea but rather than go for this kind of coffee table image all the time I concentrated more on particular birds that were striking attitudes or doing something, rather than just sitting in a nice pose. I personally find these kind of images more interesting than the more standard presentation.
Here are some images that I took of the various species I found on and around the cliffs at Bempton.
Here are some images that I took of the various species I found on and around the cliffs at Bempton.
Gannets
Seen perched on or flying below the impressive and majestic three hundred foot cliffs it is sometimes hard to realise just how large Gannets are. They are Britain's largest seabird with a six and a half foot wing span. The colony at Bempton was founded around 1930 and is Britain's only mainland gannetry. However space is limited on the narrow ledges of the cliffs and large parts of the cliff are unsuitable for nesting so there are not the vast numbers that can be found at other colonies such as at Hermaness in Shetland but still there are more than enough Gannets to keep anyone satisfied. A ceaseless procession were flying back and fore below me with virtually all being full adults, just the occasional immature individual, dressed in the brown and white speckled plumage of a bird in its third summer of life, brought variety.
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| Adult Gannets |
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| Adult Gannet with its youngster that is around 4-5 weeks old. Note how narrow and confined the ledge is on which the young Gannet must remain until it fledges |
Gannets normally first breed in their fifth year of life so these two were rehearsing and learning the process required to successfully find a mate, lay an egg and rear a chick. All that will come to fruition next year on these very cliffs if the birds survive the winter at sea. Both showed to a lesser or greater degree their immaturity by the presence of scattered dark brown feathering in their wings and tail. one appearing to be more advanced in its moult to adulthood than the other. They spent minutes on end bonding, before one suddenly dropped off the side of the cliff, wheeling away in flight across the sea. The other, looking slightly perplexed at its partner's abrupt departure stood for a while and then it too dropped almost vertically seawards before levelling out on widespread wings and, swept away on the wind from the cliff, rejoined its partner in the mass of flying Gannets over the sea.
Another immature Gannet, probably four years old and not yet ready to breed for the first time came within just metres of us, stalling in the offshore wind to put down on the barest covering of orange sand on a narrow ledge of rock, at thc very edge of a dizzying drop to the sea. Possibly it was prospecting for a nest site for next year or more likely it was displaced by the breeding adult Gannets, clustered along the nearby ledges on the cliff face.
So close was it, that if you were of a mind to, its beauty could be fully appreciated without recourse to camera or binoculars. Gannets possess a special aura. An iconic bird instantly recognisable to everyone. Some bird species have this aura others do not. Bryan Nelson in his book 'The Gannet' summed it up succinctly when he wrote 'There has to be something wild, austere, mysterious or irresistably charming to qualify.'
The Gannet is one that most certainly qualifies.
Rarely do you have the opportunity to see a Gannet this close but all bar one of my fellow birders did not seem in the least interested in this opportunity to admire its impressive pale greyish blue bill, defined by narrow dark edging and the thinnest of dark lines running from base to tip, a blue orbital ring around its ice grey eyes contained in a tiny mask of bare black skin, the smooth contour of its white head tinted with golden buff on its crown and down its thick neck. The rest of the bird's plumage was pure, almost dazzling white apart from the dark brown flight feathers protruding to points, over and above its white tail. Each toe on the huge webbed paddles that are its feet neatly outlined in pale lime green. A bird of the ocean and to a large extent coloured with the infinite shades of the sea and sky.
It stood for a while but became restless, not looking comfortable, uneasy on its uneven narrow rock platform and soon flew back into the throng of its fellow Gannets that were passing back and fore in front of the cliff.
Razorbills
I confess to having a great affinity to Razorbills. They are my favourite seabird. The combination of black and white that serves as their breeding plumage is smarter than the brown and white feathering of a Guillemot and the overall black of their upperparts is refined to aesthetic perfection by delicate white piping on and around their bill and on the tips of their secondaries which forms a narrow white trailing edge to each wing.
Unlike the Guillemots they do not cluster in tenements on ledges along the cliff face but seek out their own personal space on narrow rock platforms and ledges nearer the cliff top and guard this insecure and precarious space from all comers apart from their mate.
They squat on their legs for support whilst craning their necks to check on what is going on around them.
When relaxed they sink their large head into their shoulders, holding their thick bill at an uptilted angle but should any other razorbill approach too closely they open their mandibles to reveal its golden interior, a surprise of colour in an otherwise monochrome bird. Usually the partial opening of its bill is deterrent enough but occasionally the bird will augment its warning by emitting a clicking growl, if necessary.
To watch Razorbills squatting quietly in pairs or singly brings a sense of transcendant calm amongst the ongoing sound and frenetic energy of the seabird colony. Nothing seems to trouble them too overtly as they sit, self contained and silently self assured, as if they know something the other birds do not.
Often it is impossible to see their tiny eyes. minute and button like, overshadowed by the huge head and blunt profile of their bill. A bill the direct opposite of the stiletto possessed by the Guillemot. The large bill is accommodated by the Razorbill's stocky thickset body. Somehow it works so that the bird itself can never quite be called inelegant.
The edge of the cliff below my viewpoint seemed to serve as a neutral gathering point where Razorbills could come and rest without incurring any aggression from others. They never remained long but for a while would just sit and look about until the call of their natural environment, the sea would prove too much and they would depart, pairs or single birds dropping off the edge, descending on whirring wings but sometimes the wing beats would be exaggeratedly slow, more a rowing action as the bird sculled seawards on the tailwind blowing over and out from the cliff.
Kittiwakes
An adult Kittiwake landed on a rock occupied by some Razorbills and obviously took exception to their presence and went into a threatening display. The Razorbills shuffled out of harms way and the Kittiwake held the pose for half a minute before furling its wings and ceasing to call. I always think of Kittiwakes as the most benign of gulls but here was a markedly different aspect to their character. A few minutes later another Razorbill landed on the same rock and the Kittiwake immediately threatened it with spread wings, loud calls and bowed head. Its blood orange coloured tongue extended well beyond the tip of its lower mandible as it gave voice, contrasting with the pale yellow mandibles, something I have never noticed before. The Kittiwake did not remain on the rock for long and departed to join others of its kind either on their nesting ledges nearby or flying above the sea.
Rock Dove
From my vantage point I noticed a pair of Rock Doves coming and going from a small opening in the cliff face just below the top of the cliff. Looked at closely they are an attractive bird always looking smart and somehow leaner and cleaner than the feral pigeons one sees everywhere and descended from wild birds such as this. It was good to see a properly wild bird and it and its mate came and went throughout the six hours I was there.
Puffins
Last but by no means least is perhaps everyone's favourite seabird, the Puffin. A few pairs were mingling on the cliff face amongst the Razorbills and Guillemots. They are much smaller than the other two auk species and are able to negotiate their way to even more precipitous areas than the other auks. Colourful and charismatic, their behaviour especially when paired, is both endearing and fascinating. Puffins are unashamedly curious and nosy and a pair were exploring the extreme edge of a rock face opposite me. One was more inquisitive than the other and sidled down a small precipice to look into a hole, that was far too small to act as a nest chamber, from what I could see, but nevertheless the bird spent some considerable time with its head and parrot like bill inserted in the hole. Its partner succumbing to its innate curiosity, made a move to see what its mate was doing in spending rather too much time examining the hole, and came closer to see what the fuss was about. The pair finally retreated back to the top of the ledge, presumably satisfied that they had discounted all possibilities of the hole being suitable as a nest site and eventually flew off.
So close was it, that if you were of a mind to, its beauty could be fully appreciated without recourse to camera or binoculars. Gannets possess a special aura. An iconic bird instantly recognisable to everyone. Some bird species have this aura others do not. Bryan Nelson in his book 'The Gannet' summed it up succinctly when he wrote 'There has to be something wild, austere, mysterious or irresistably charming to qualify.'
The Gannet is one that most certainly qualifies.
Rarely do you have the opportunity to see a Gannet this close but all bar one of my fellow birders did not seem in the least interested in this opportunity to admire its impressive pale greyish blue bill, defined by narrow dark edging and the thinnest of dark lines running from base to tip, a blue orbital ring around its ice grey eyes contained in a tiny mask of bare black skin, the smooth contour of its white head tinted with golden buff on its crown and down its thick neck. The rest of the bird's plumage was pure, almost dazzling white apart from the dark brown flight feathers protruding to points, over and above its white tail. Each toe on the huge webbed paddles that are its feet neatly outlined in pale lime green. A bird of the ocean and to a large extent coloured with the infinite shades of the sea and sky.
It stood for a while but became restless, not looking comfortable, uneasy on its uneven narrow rock platform and soon flew back into the throng of its fellow Gannets that were passing back and fore in front of the cliff.
Razorbills
I confess to having a great affinity to Razorbills. They are my favourite seabird. The combination of black and white that serves as their breeding plumage is smarter than the brown and white feathering of a Guillemot and the overall black of their upperparts is refined to aesthetic perfection by delicate white piping on and around their bill and on the tips of their secondaries which forms a narrow white trailing edge to each wing.
Unlike the Guillemots they do not cluster in tenements on ledges along the cliff face but seek out their own personal space on narrow rock platforms and ledges nearer the cliff top and guard this insecure and precarious space from all comers apart from their mate.
They squat on their legs for support whilst craning their necks to check on what is going on around them.
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| Compare the lack of depth in this bird's bill to the one shown in the two images above Could this difference signify either age or sex? So often questions arise when you spend time looking at a bird for an extended period. |
When relaxed they sink their large head into their shoulders, holding their thick bill at an uptilted angle but should any other razorbill approach too closely they open their mandibles to reveal its golden interior, a surprise of colour in an otherwise monochrome bird. Usually the partial opening of its bill is deterrent enough but occasionally the bird will augment its warning by emitting a clicking growl, if necessary.
To watch Razorbills squatting quietly in pairs or singly brings a sense of transcendant calm amongst the ongoing sound and frenetic energy of the seabird colony. Nothing seems to trouble them too overtly as they sit, self contained and silently self assured, as if they know something the other birds do not.
Often it is impossible to see their tiny eyes. minute and button like, overshadowed by the huge head and blunt profile of their bill. A bill the direct opposite of the stiletto possessed by the Guillemot. The large bill is accommodated by the Razorbill's stocky thickset body. Somehow it works so that the bird itself can never quite be called inelegant.
The edge of the cliff below my viewpoint seemed to serve as a neutral gathering point where Razorbills could come and rest without incurring any aggression from others. They never remained long but for a while would just sit and look about until the call of their natural environment, the sea would prove too much and they would depart, pairs or single birds dropping off the edge, descending on whirring wings but sometimes the wing beats would be exaggeratedly slow, more a rowing action as the bird sculled seawards on the tailwind blowing over and out from the cliff.
Kittiwakes
An adult Kittiwake landed on a rock occupied by some Razorbills and obviously took exception to their presence and went into a threatening display. The Razorbills shuffled out of harms way and the Kittiwake held the pose for half a minute before furling its wings and ceasing to call. I always think of Kittiwakes as the most benign of gulls but here was a markedly different aspect to their character. A few minutes later another Razorbill landed on the same rock and the Kittiwake immediately threatened it with spread wings, loud calls and bowed head. Its blood orange coloured tongue extended well beyond the tip of its lower mandible as it gave voice, contrasting with the pale yellow mandibles, something I have never noticed before. The Kittiwake did not remain on the rock for long and departed to join others of its kind either on their nesting ledges nearby or flying above the sea.
Rock Dove
From my vantage point I noticed a pair of Rock Doves coming and going from a small opening in the cliff face just below the top of the cliff. Looked at closely they are an attractive bird always looking smart and somehow leaner and cleaner than the feral pigeons one sees everywhere and descended from wild birds such as this. It was good to see a properly wild bird and it and its mate came and went throughout the six hours I was there.
Puffins
Last but by no means least is perhaps everyone's favourite seabird, the Puffin. A few pairs were mingling on the cliff face amongst the Razorbills and Guillemots. They are much smaller than the other two auk species and are able to negotiate their way to even more precipitous areas than the other auks. Colourful and charismatic, their behaviour especially when paired, is both endearing and fascinating. Puffins are unashamedly curious and nosy and a pair were exploring the extreme edge of a rock face opposite me. One was more inquisitive than the other and sidled down a small precipice to look into a hole, that was far too small to act as a nest chamber, from what I could see, but nevertheless the bird spent some considerable time with its head and parrot like bill inserted in the hole. Its partner succumbing to its innate curiosity, made a move to see what its mate was doing in spending rather too much time examining the hole, and came closer to see what the fuss was about. The pair finally retreated back to the top of the ledge, presumably satisfied that they had discounted all possibilities of the hole being suitable as a nest site and eventually flew off.
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