Two Scarce Heathland Birds 3rd April 2023

At long last a decent spell of weather has arrived. Gone is the interminable rain, grey cloud and blustering cold wind to be replaced by sunshine, blue sky and a gentler airflow. Inevitably one feels a surge of optimism at this change of weather and thus stimulated I made a trip to Greenham Common to look for its two star residents, both scarce, the Dartford Warbler and the Woodlark, with a warm up act of my favourite stonechats for good measure.

It's a drive of around forty five minutes south from my home in Oxfordshire to Greenham Common in the neighbouring county of Berkshire. Not so long ago this whole area was one of high security, razor wire fences and much controversy and conflict, as Greenham Common was formerly a huge air base, housing nuclear missiles and the enormous military aircraft required to transport them.

The famous Greenham Women's Peace Camp where protestors lived for years is now long gone and but a memory while the huge runway used by the aircraft has been transformed by the Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire Wildlife Trust (BBOWT) back into heathland and today was a mass of yellow flowering gorse that stretches like a carpet of gold into the far distance of what would have been the end of the runway.A truly remarkable transformation from a hostile, malevolent environment into one where nature has reclaimed the land and as a consequence has attracted all sorts of uncommon wildlife, none more so than the aforementioned birds I hoped to encounter.

I arrived around ten in the morning and parking near the former control tower now converted into a cafe and visitor centre I left the dog walkers and visitors behind and walked out to find myself alone where the runway used to be, an unmistakeable broad strip that stretches  for over half a mile, flanked on either side by gold and green ramparts of flowering gorse.

It did not take long to encounter the stonechats, the males find you, making themselves all too obvious, perched on the highest twigs, flirting wings and tails and gently chastising your presence before flying to another sentinel twig to continue their protestations.

The female is much less obvious and will soon be nesting, if not already. For now the males are only mildly anxious about my presence but if they had young it would be a different story. 

Today they content themselves by keeping an eye on me from the topmost twigs of saplings that rise like thorny aerials from the carpet of gorse and rank grass under which their nest will be concealed in a depression in the ground.

It was sheltered here, the banks of gorse absorbing what wind there was and leaving pockets of warmth for me to enjoy, such a luxury after the wind and cold of last week at my local patch, Farmoor's bleak reservoir.  I stood for a while imagining the bombers thundering down this strip, maybe right where I stood, engines screaming.Now all that remains is peace and birdsong but still the lesson has not been learned.

I was unsure that where I currently stood was best to look for a Dartford Warbler. It certainly looked the right place. The gorse thick and dense, all golden and spikey green.

The haunting song of a Woodlark came to me distantly, such sweet notes, more a sequence of diffident and melodic cadences than the outpouring cascade of song produced by its larger cousin the Skylark. Then the song came no more. I made a mental note to go and investigate in its general direction, later, after I had tracked down a Dartford Warbler. Still far from certain as to how or where to commence my challenge, I had been told to wait until I heard  one singing as this would betray their location so I opted to stand and wait.

Seconds later my dilemna was abruptly solved as a small, dark brown bird with a slender body and long tail silently flew up from the gorse into a small hawthorn, imminently to break bud but currently no more than a fretwork of bare spiky twigs. It could only be one thing. A Dartford and a male at that! What luck.Without hardly expending time or energy I had one here, right before me, a few metres away.

Its silence was now no longer a concern as its dark form hopped from twig to gorse and then back again.Obviously concerned about my presence, it moved closer, cocked its head and regarded me with eyes circled with crimson, staring from a grey busby like head and with a bib of white speckles on a throat of deep chestnut, a throat swelling as it quietly churred, giving voice to its anxiety. 

The warbler persisted with a peek a boo cameo performance for a few minutes, hiding in the gorse then making its way though the tangle to emerge and perch more obviously, all the better to check me out.

Back and fore it hopped or flew from twig to twig and finally I managed to achieve  some images without the curse of intervening twigs to ruin my masterpieces. 

It continued its agitated progress through the twigs and I even caught a glimpse of a mate before they descended deep into the gorse and were gone. Five minutes, maybe just a bit more, was all I was granted and even though I remained silent and still for a good half hour they never returned. I like to think they were looking at me, unseen from within their fastness of gorse. 

It was done. I could not wish for more although you always do and why not as such an experience does not usually come so easily or so readily and you know absolutely that  this chance encounter is just that and you will do well to ever repeat it.

So, reluctantly deserting the gorse, I made my way back to where I had heard the Woodlark  which was near the car park and control tower cafe. Eschewing the inevitable confusion of dogs and humanity around the cafe and car park I slipped through a side gate onto an area of rough ground where notices informed I was free to roam at will. It looked ideal for Woodlarks, being open stony ground and short grass amongst a number of small silver birch saplings. 

This was, at a guess, approximately where I had heard the lark earlier but of course it was now silent and doubtless feeding here, quietly and unobtrusively, its brown streaked plumage concealing it against the similar variegated hues of the ground.

Where to look? I scanned with my binoculars and yet again luck was my friend or was it some innate sense of knowing where the lark would likely be? I would like to think the latter but it is of little consequence, the result was I discovered a small crouching bird hesitantly moving over the ground. It was a Woodlark, no doubt the singer that I had heard earlier.

I skirted around, giving it a wide berth and approached from the rear. The lark showed only moderate concern and allowed me to come reasonably close.

Then I took one step too many and it rose into the air and commenced singing its sweet lilting song.

Note the broad wings

Higher it rose, its wings as broad as a skylark's, the better to effortlessly support its circling in the air. Twenty five grammes of feather and fragile bone taking on a vastness of sky, it poured out its  passion. Ever higher it flew, ascending until it was a dark speck against the white billowing clouds and then becoming almost invisible against the blue but forever singing.I strained my neck backwards to stay with it, my ageing body protesting at such an imposition.

The lark continued its circling for a good fifteen minutes, dropping slightly and then rising as if reluctant to leave its airy domain.Finally the singing ceased and its tiny form was conspicuously absent from the sky above. It had landed without notice. I had lost it but then the song came again but this time from ground level. For seconds I was perplexed, unable to locate it and then there it was, closer than the volume of song would suggest, tripping slowly across the ground, singing and feeding as it progressed. I had learnt something new in that its song was delivered both on the ground and on the wing.

This area was obviously its chosen territory although I never saw a mate and I followed at a discrete distance as it alternately traversed the ground, periodically flew up to sing in the sky or, on a couple of occasions, chose to sing from small trees.

Early afternoon and it was done. I had no more energy to tramp the uneven ground but felt refreshed in spirit if not body by my encounters with these special birds that have made a home on Greenham Common.

 

Please note at breeding time you are instructed to remain on the marked tracks and not venture into the gorse. It is not necessary in order see the birds and provided you are patient and have some knowledge of their behaviour you should be rewarded with good views

This is for the bird's welfare.