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Eschewing cameras we decided to just look at birds on our first day.Mark was keen to try and see a rare North American goose, a diminutive form of a properly wild Canada Goose called a Richardson's Canada Goose which had somehow attached itself to the vast flocks of Pink footed Geese that come from Iceland to Norfolk each winter. With no reports of it anywhere we gave it up as a lost cause and decided on visiting the always busy RSPB reserve at nearby Titchwell.
It is unfortunate that there is only one path running alongside the western edge of the reserve to the sea and as such everyone is almost under each others feet on the narrow path as we pass along it to the hides or the sea. Somehow the close presence of fellow humans never really feels intrusive as all of us become absorbed in mind, if not body, into the surrounding landscape of sky, sea and lagoons, the latter crowded with resting or feeding birds.
Most notable was a flock of a hundred or more Golden Plovers, exclusively occupying a muddy bund in the largest lagoon. From a distance the flock appeared immobile, the birds standing in the sun, dull, olive gold spangled upperparts rendering each bird indistinct from its neighbour and the brown earth they stood on. Get closer and an incessant, conversational, melodic whisper of sound can be heard arising from the flock and closer still it can be seen there is endless, restless, movement amongst the birds as they change position or threaten and chivvy each other. The essence of the flock is its continuity of sound and movement.
A Whooper Swan, huge, black and yellow of bill was an obviously nervous presence as it floated tense and alert, neck held high, behind a low islet at the eastern end of the lagoon. Male Wigeon, Teal and Shoveler, resplendent in their breeding finery were splashes of rich colour on the blue water.
We made the obligatory visit to the beach and its vista of open sea and miles of sand. Here at the end of the path is where most people congregate. Walk just a little way further from the path, out onto the sand and you are on your own and in harmony with the elements.The tide today was far out but where sand met sea, the twinkling shapes of Sanderlings, their winter plumaged bodies transformed by the sun to white sparkles, ran along the shoreline as the larger and greyer forms of Grey Plovers and Bar tailed Godwits fed less energetically amongst them.
Returning, at the back of the visitor centre a female Brambling was an agreeable surprise, drinking with a couple of Chaffinches from a tiny ripple of water in a ditch below a mesh of bare hawthorn twigs and bramble
We moved on to Holkham Fresh Marsh which has no public access but can be viewed from a gate by the road.Maybe because it is undisturbed lies the reason it is always full of birds. Large flocks of Lapwing, rested, black and white studded silhouettes, motionless in the flashes of water along with the expected flocks of wigeon and teal. It is also good here for Great White Egrets which reveal themselves as they fly from one spot to another over the marsh or raise a narrow head and yellow bill on an implausibly long thin neck from a ditch, checking all is well.Today we found four.
There are geese here too. Often nothing more than the unremarkable resident Greylags but occasionally Pink-footed Geese join them. Today I noticed a grey goose which was slightly smaller than the Greylags, with a brown head and a dash of orange on its bill. lts difference was subtle but distinctive. A closer look revealed it had orange legs so definitely not a pinkfoot but a bean goose - a Tundra Bean Goose to be precise. A good find and something to bring a feeling of achievment to the day.
To finish we moved on to Warham Greens which is reached from the coast road by a rather perilous drive down a narrow earth track towards the sea before abandoning the car and making a further quarter mile walk to look across a huge expanse of saltmarsh stretching away to Wells next the Sea in the west and Blakeney to the east.
This area for me is the epitomy of Norfolk in winter, wild, bleak even, it is all here and brought solace and the sense of a natural conclusion to the day.We had come to see a wintering juvenile Pallid Harrier that comes here to roost most evenings. It is remarkable that a bird that normally winters in East Africa has chosen to remain in Britain but that is the charm of birding.
A Barn Owl flew close by and as the last glow of sun faded and the land turned to indeterminate shadows we realised it was not to be with the harrier.
It did not matter.
We could try again tomorrow.
That evening at the hostel we chatted with two other birders, strangers united by a common interest we sat around a table in the warmth of the large kitchen, swapping stories and anecdotes in time honoured fashion, imparting information back and fore about birds seen and where to go. A pleasant hour of unwinding before bed.
The night sky outside was clear of cloud and as a consequence it was bitterly cold, the high pressure bringing a bright moon, its cold orb coating the land with grey spectral light. Later in bed, in the dark, I lay and listened to the bickering calls of thousands of Pink-footed Geese as they passed overhead from the adjacent sea to feed in the moonlit fields inland.I found it intensely moving, listening to the families of geese excitedly calling to each other in the night sky above where I lay. Their lives so very different to ours.
Thursday morning at seven and at first light we resolved to have an early look for the Richardson's Canada Goose but a reprise tour of yesterday's inland lanes failed to find the flocks of pinkfeet with which it was roving.
So, after breakfast it was camera time and we took ourselves to Cley Marshes in search of one rare bird from North America, a Long Billed Dowitcher and a flock of winter visitors from the Arctic, Snow Buntings. The Long Billed Dowitcher was reportedly favouring shallow waters colloquially called The Serpentine that are to be found by the East Bank. It is a long walk out along the bank to the sea and the dowitcher is by no means guaranteed to be in its favourite location. Sure enough, shortly before we reached the location, all the waders rose from the marsh in alarm, the flocks ascending high into the sky and taking the dowitcher with them.This signified the presence of an avian predator, probably a Peregrine although we could not locate it in the sky. So we never saw the dowitcher, missing it by seconds as another birder told us it had settled far away out on the marsh and was now invisible.
A resigned shrug of the shoulders and we resolved to walk to the end of the East Bank and the sea wall which consists of a vast bank of shingle protecting the marsh from the sea. Arriving here we learnt that the Snow Buntings had just flown east, moving along the inside of the shingle bank.We walked east following the fenceline and eventually located a twittering flock of birds flying above us. They were the Snow Buntings, about forty in all.
The birds were obviously keen to descend to this particular area of withered grass, the dead stems of horned poppy and shingle but were nervous and edgy. Round and round they went, describing wide circles in the sky, constantly twittering to each other. Each time it approached us the flock would drop down almost to ground level but at the ultimate moment before settling the birds would become fearful and fly back up into the sky.
We sat by the fence and waited.The buntings never went far and always returned to this area. Eventually about half the flock returned one more time and this time settled to feed.
Their winter plumage of buff, brown, black and white exactly corresponds to the muted colours of the shingle and as a consequence they can be hard to discern, especially as they also like to crouch low in the many tiny depressions in the shingle to nibble at the poppy seeds they seek and find amongst the pebbles.Watching one bird I saw it actually lift small pebbles in its bill to discover any seeds below, a behaviour previously unknown to me.
Even though they were now feeding contentedly for the most part, some perceived danger would cause them to flee at irregular intervals and away they would go in a compact vocal flock but always to return, sometimes landing distantly before working their way along the ground towards us. By our sitting quietly and remaining still they gained confidence and slowly came within our range.
Such sociable little birds they always seek to remain in contact with each other. When in a group they moved fast, swarming over and amongst the pebbles whilst at other times single birds would tarry before running to catch up with the others. The two or three whiter adult males clearly stood out amongst the majority of duller juveniles and females in the flock.
It was a hugely rewarding and satisfying hour that we spent with them but as the morning wore on more and more people began to arrive and we knew it would soon be too disturbed for any more close encounters..
On rising from our comparatively sheltered position out of the wind we became very aware of just how cold it was and it was a relief to get moving and stimulate our circulation into something approaching normal. Regaining the East Bank we could see a distant huddle of birders looking at a lone wading bird near to the bank which almost certainly indicated that the dowitcher had returned and so it proved.
Reminiscent in profile to a giant snipe but with a markedly less wary nature and grey all over it vigorously drove its long bill into the shallow waters of the lagoon,seeking its food in the soft mud below.
A person with a camera came to stand by me.
Is that it? he enquired.
I told him it was.
What's it called again?
A Long Billed Dowitcher.
He photographed it and was happy. And why not.
We made a final visit to Warham Greens, a last effort to encounter the Pallid Harrier but this time we arrived earlier in the afternoon in case it came back to the marsh sooner.Someone had told us yesterday that on some days they had seen it here as early as three pm. Unlike yesterday there was a lot of birdlife, especially Marsh Harriers, that appeared in a bewildering variety of plumages. Red Kites were also plentiful while a Merlin, a Sparrowhawk and a Common Buzzard were also visitors to the marshland. Most of the raptors were quite distant, some very distant indeed and I found myself wondering if the Pallid Harrier would be similarly so, assuming it came at all.
A Barn Owl came careering silently over the hedge behind us, and caught a vole virtually in front of us, crashlanding feet first into the rank grass with one soft, buff white feathered wing splayed out as if broken. Someone later told us they had heard that the Pallid Harrier had killed a Barn Owl on the marsh earlier in the month but I find this hard to believe. A Barn Owl is a big bird and although the Pallid Harrier is a large female it would be very unusual for it to prey on a Barn Owl. More likely the Barn Owl had caught a rodent and the harrier had tried to mug it for its prey and forced it down into the grass where the outcome would be invisible.Kestrels regularly steal voles and mice from Barn Owls in this way.
There certainly was no shortage of Barn Owls here this afternoon and I saw at least two probably three.
Curlews called hauntingly, their lonely cries floating across the vast spread of saltmarsh laid out before us and families of brent geese wandered the wetter parts, growling conversationally to each other.
Then at about three thirty there it was, in my scope during one more scan of the marsh. The Pallid Harrier came flying in from the east and not too far out.The late afternoon light was just about perfect to enrich the gorgeous colours of this so rare bird. It looked, in the golden soft light, deep orange underneath whilst its upperparts contrastingly appeared very dark chocolate brown, accentuating a gleaming white rump. In some excitement I absorbed every feature. Notably the strongly patterned head of buff and brown, a combination of dark brown cheeks followed by a conspicuous pale buff collar and then another distinctive semi circle of brown around the neck often referred to as being like a boa.
The underwing as it tilted in flight was darker grey towards the body while the outer part was paler, the whole underwing irregularly barred. It was in no hurry and flew casually in front of us, slowly moving over the marshland from east to west, then to perch on an upright dead branch where it preened for twenty minutes before resuming its patrolling of the saltmarsh, gradually moving westwards and finally being lost in the distance.
This was the final curtain.
No need for an encore.
Our sense of fulfilment was complete.
Birds seen
Little Grebe, Great crested Grebe, Cormorant, Little Egret, Great White Egret, Grey Heron, Mute Swan, Whooper Swan, Tundra Bean Goose, Pink-footed Goose, Russian White-fronted Goose, Greylag Goose, Canada Goose, Barnacle Goose, Dark bellied Brent Goose, Egyptian Goose, Common Shelduck, Eurasian Wigeon, Gadwall, Eurasian Teal, Mallard, Northern Pintail, Northern Shoveler, Common Eider, Common Goldeneye, Eurasian Marsh Harrier, Pallid Harrier, Eurasian Sparrowhawk, Common Buzzard, Common Kestrel, Merlin, Grey Partridge, Common Pheasant, Common Coot, Moorhen, Oystercatcher, Avocet, Ringed Plover, European Golden Plover, Grey Plover, Northern Lapwing, Sanderling, Purple Sandpiper, Dunlin, Ruff, Long billed Dowitcher, Common Snipe, Black tailed Godwit, Bar tailed Godwit, Eurasian Curlew, Common Redshank, Turnstone, Mediterranean Gull, Black headed Gull, Common Gull, Herring Gull, Yellow legged Gull, Great Black backed Gull, Wood Pigeon, Collared Dove, Barn Owl, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Skylark, Meadow Pipit, Rock Pipit, Pied Wagtail, Wren, Dunnock, Robin, Black Redstart, European Stonechat, Blackbird, Fieldfare, Song Thrush, Redwing, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Magpie, Jackdaw, Rook, Carrion Crow, Starling, House Sparrow, Chaffinch, Brambling, Greenfinch, Goldfinch, Linnet, Snow Bunting, Reed Bunting.(91)
Mammals seen
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