What a Surprise! 8th December 2024

Yesterday, Saturday, the weather was apochryphal as Storm Darragh brought 80mph winds and lashing rain to Britain. I was tempted to go to my local Farmoor Reservoir in the hope the extreme weather might bring a storm blown seabird such as a Gannet or an 'in your dreams' Leach's Petrel to this most inland of reservoirs.

However Thames Water sensibly closed the reservoir to visitors so the matter was taken out of my hands.All day the wind and rain hammered at the house, the gusts getting ever stronger in the late afternoon and early evening.

General opinion on local social media suggested the reservoir would again be closed the following day Sunday as the wind was still predicted to be very strong although the rain might have ceased.

Nevertheless I resolved to try Farmoor first thing in the morning, reasoning that if it was still closed I could view the reservoir with a telescope from the Countryside Walk which encircles the reservoir.outside the boundary fence.I still harboured hopes of a Gannet or Leach's Petrel and now, ever the optimist I added Grey Phalarope to my fanciful wishlist 

Well why not?

Deciding to set off early, well at 8am, I was pleased to find any floods around our part of Oxfordshire had not materialised and the fallen branches from yesterday had been cleared from the rural roads around our village. Being a Sunday the roads were mostly devoid of traffic so I soon arrived at the reservoir to find the gates were open. So far so good. I drove through the gates, parked the car and headed for the central causeway.The wind reained extremely strong and being from the northeast, cold as well and every so often an extra strong gust of wind threatened to bowl me over.Needless to say no one else was on the causeway..I had it all to myself.

And no wonder as the  wind continuously and relentlessly  battered me sideways as it swept unhindered across the open waters of the reservoir.

Sadly there was nothing to see from the causeway apart from a pair of Greater Black backed Gulls that treated the wind as if it was nothing, making great sweeps across the churning waters without once flapping their wings. At the far end of the causeway, in the lee of the wave wall where it was sheltered from the wind, Tufted Ducks and Coots had gathered to feed and relax. I also found the wintering Common Sandpiper here, wandering by the water's edge in the comparative calm, reluctant to fly, knowing it would be swept away on the wind. Common Sandpipers usually do not allow you anywhere near them but possibly due to the wind it allowed me to walk past without fleeing from my presence. This is the fourth year that a Common Sandpiper has wintered on the reservoir and although unlikely it could just possibly be the same individual that has been present for all four years.

I decided to carry on walking around the smaller basin F1, to see if a phalarope might be feeding by the concrete shore, currently being lashed by white surf, but predictably there was nothing.

I completed the mile  circuit and on getting back to the cafe decided a coffee might be nice but was informed the cafe was closed due to a power cut.

What to do? 

Let's give the larger basin, F2 a go. 

You never know. That elusive phalarope might just be lurking out there.

Nothing ventured nothing gained or something like that. 

Birders are forever optmistic and having Farmoor Reservoir as your local patch elevates that requirement to a whole other level, believe me.

I immediately regretted my decision as the full force of a very strong wind hit me. Blind obstinacy made me carry on as the breaking waters hit the wall in a surge of white froth and spray. Of birds there was predictably no sign apart from two Pied Wagtails which were foolish enough to fly up from under the wave wall only to be instantly caught by the wind and, barely in control hurled downwind far behind me. It was like this until I got to the southwestern corner which provided partial shelter from the full force of the wind. 

Flotillas of Coots and Tufted Ducks had congregated on the calmer water here but on checking them there was no sign of a hoped for Scaup. See what I mean about being optimistic? The garrulous Greylag Geese were for once silenced, squatting asleep on the grass by the perimeter track with heads firmly reversed into their feathers as the wind whipped over the grass, their bodies grey mounds facing into the unforgiving wind. They did not even bother to remove their heads from their feathers as I walked by a few feet from them.

Further along, by the western wall of the basin I came to a small gathering of Mallards resting on the concrete that shelves down to the water. They too were asleep. Through watering eyes I nearly overlooked a small wader, right at the water's edge near to them. My initial reaction was that it must be the Common Sandpiper that had moved from the end of the causeway.

But the rotund, crouching profile of the bird gave me pause for thought and checking in my bins I  could see an overall plump, greyish body but it was the bill that told me what it was. Medium long, with an orange base and slight kink at its tip. It could only be one thing - a Purple Sandpiper.

I could hardly believe it. 

At last a reward for the countless times I have circuited the reservoir only to find nothing exceptional. But this is why we do it, an eternal optimism that every day may be the one when I find something out of the ordinary here.

Purple Sandpipers are usually confiding and this individual was no exception.Slowly, I walked towards it, the bird paused briefly to regard me and then, unconcerned, carried on feeding, picking at the concrete and probing holes and cracks for food.

I ventured closer until I was almost opposite and no more than ten feet away. There was no reaction.

Now came the realisation that I had left my camera in the car.So used to not having it for the last month it had slipped my mind to take it with me and it was a long walk/jog to get back to the car and retrieve it. Torn between remaining and admiring the sandpiper or going to get the camera to record this momentous event, I opted for the latter. There was no one else on the reservoir to disturb it and the bird itself seemed content and settled.. I would have to take a chance. It would be a good twenty minutes running and fast walking but it had to be done or there would be no photos, which would be unbearable.

I called Andy who I had met earlier near the cafe and now was somewhere else on the reservoir and relayed my find to him. I also put out the news on my local Oxon Bird Forum Whats App group for anyone local who might be interested.

I raced off to return to the car as fast as possible, cursing my foolishness in leaving the camera behind.It seemed to take an age but finally I was there. Jumping in the car I drove up and onto the perimeter track  to get back to where the sandpiper was. Anxiety that it might have flown off was foremost in my mind as I drove but I need not have worried. The Mallard had departed but the sandpiper remained in splendid isolation, feeding in that distinctive crouching style of their's, probing the holes and gaps in the concrete shelving and even wading into the shallow water at its edge. 

Purple Sandpipers spend the winter in Britain on piers and rocks by the sea so the churning waters and breaking waves on the concrete of the reservoir were undoubtedly familiar and of no real concern to it and probably made it feel at home. 

The prominently pale edges to the wing coverts indicated it to be a first winter bird.Where it had come from was anybody's guess and where it was bound for was again open to conjecture.Maybe it had been storm blown from the coast or more likely was making its way overland to a southern coastline when the storm arrived and forced it to put down onto the reservoir and wait for better weather 

So many maybe's and no real answers!

Farmoor's concrete certainly suited it as I have seen them spending the winter on concrete piers at the coast such as those at Newhaven in Sussex and Brixham in Devon.

This bird was the twenty second to be recorded at Farmoor Reservoir and the first to be seen here in the month of December. I also found the last to be recorded here before today when I discovered a juvenile on the causeway three years ago on 31st August 2021.My encounter with that one was equally unexpected and again came after a fruitless walk around the reservoir.

The first Purple Sandpiper recorded at Farmoor was as long ago as September 1976 and all, apart from one in May 2011, have been found during the months of August-November, with the latter month the most popular with seven records.

The Purple Sandpiper had gone by the following morning

An Interesting Two Days 5-6th December 2024

BBC's Countryfile decided to film a piece about Farmoor Reservoir for a future programme and set Thursday the 5th of December as the day when they would film, planning to  spend all day at the reservoir. I was flattered to be volunteered by Thames Water to talk about the birds, having written a booklet listing the birds that have, over the years, been recorded there -250 species at the last count including 12 national rarities

I was delighted to discover that the person interviewing me would be John Craven, he of John Craven's Newsround that I grew up with in the 1970's. I always imagined him to be a really nice man and was delighted to find out that he was.

Originally it was planned to do the first bit of filming in the Pinkhill Reserve Hide then transfer to the reservoir's causeway but there has been so much rainfall lately that the reserve and surrounding fields, which lie adjacent  to the River Thames, are inundated with water and the waterfowl have dispersed, resulting in nothing to be seen on the reserve, so it was decided to go directly to the causeway

Walking the causeway with John  we talked to camera about the birds on the reservoir. Unfortunately due to the time of year there was not a lot to see but the Countryfile crew seemed  to be reasonably happy to hear about the winter residents, such as Tufted Ducks, Great crested Grebes and Cormorants with a diversion into my birding exploits with regard to twitching. 

Of much interest to me was how the programme was put together with conversation pieces being filmed and then John providing a spoken link.The one great advantage of it not being live was if you messed up a take it could be done all over again.

At first a little nervous, once we got going everything was fine and I forgot about the cameras and sound man and just chatted with John as if nothing was more natural.

After lunch we concentrated on the gull roost and then with the weather, as predicted closing in and dusk imminent, my day of minor celebrity came to a conclusion.

The programme I have been told will be broadcast on the 5th of January 2025

The next day, Friday the weather had improved sufficiently for me to contemplate doing some proper birding. After what seemed an interminable time my camera has finally returned from being repaired so I was keen to try it out to re-assure myself that all was now well with it. 

My home in northwest Oxfordshire does not lie that far from the western edge of The Cotswolds which is in Gloucestershire.  Unlike my part of the Oxfordshire Cotswolds it is wilder with less habitation and consists of open rolling countryside at some elevation. Nearby and lower lies the town of Cheltenham. In this area is a well known location consisting of large uncultivated fields of rough grass, not that far from a busy road and where Short eared Owls come every year in varying numbers. This year by all reports is a good one for the owls with up to ten being present.

Turning off the main road I took to a narrow lane for half a mile, thence to turn onto an even narrower lane that brought me to the fields in question. I should at this point mention that so popular has this place become with photographers it can sometimes get very busy, especially on weekends with people travelling considerable distances for the opportunity to photograph the owls. Inconsiderate birders and photographers cars parked on the narrow verge have caused some friction and not everyone locally is happy about the disturbance to this isolated part of the Gloucester countryside.

From my point of view the lanes are public roads with anyone having the right to use them and the owls are not troubled by the presence of cars and people. So long as everyone observes the rules which are not to encroach into the fields and not to block the lanes I fail to see why there should be any objections.

Today there were hardly any people present when I got there at 11.30am, maybe a dozen at most and I chose to forgo the most popular spots to observe the owls and consequently, for the most part I was on my own, standing by a crumbling drystone wall that marked the boundary between lane and field. 

A passing birder told me that he had seen numerous owls flying around since 9am which is unusual as they normally do not hunt so early. I could only speculate that yesterday's mainly inclement weather had prevented them from hunting successfully and hunger had persuaded them to rise early to hunt for their vole prey

Today marked a hiatus in weather systems, a period that was almost windless before the forecast Storm Darragh  arrived, bringing rain and winds of considerable violence, theatening gusts of 80mph, to batter Britain in the early hours of tomorrow,.There would be no hunting in such wind for the owls so they had better get on with it today in this brief but welcome window of weather respite and opportunity.

The days are short now as we approach the winter solstice, the longest night but three weeks hence and already at noon the light was beginning to fade and the air grow cold. The earlier sunshine had long since retreated behind a covering of cloud, the trees and hawthorn bushes, now in thrall to mid winter, are reduced to nothing more than  stark bones of bare branch and twig, long ago stripped of berries by the migrant thrushes that arrived in the autumn. There was no bird song at this time of day apart from a thin trickle of notes conjoured up by a Robin but it soon fell silent. Anxiety has been my unwelcome companion all my life but despite the stillness and silence of this typical winter's day which can be unsettling I felt no such care, in fact quite the reverse. 

I contemplated the tussocky field before me that rose by means of a gentle slope to a ridge with a freize of dark trees  behind.Looking to my right, in the distance a drystone wall ran at right angles from the wall I stood by, to partition the field I faced from another equally large field beyond.

Occasionally I caught a glimpse of an owl flying, alternating from side to side, above the dividing wall, first visible and then not so. Even at a distance their hunting  flight renders them utterly distinctive,  hesitant with slow beats of long, rounded wings that are marbled brown and buff, they fly like a giant, heavy headed, unstable moth, dipping and swerving, tilting from side to side as they pass low over the ground with the occasional dive into the rank grass after a vole, which nine times out of ten appears to be unsuccssful.

It was not long before an owl came reasonably close, passing halfway up the field in front of me.Here was my chance to check my camera and make any necessary adjustments.The lack of sunlight and consequent gloominess was not conducive to photography but this was alright as it tested my ability to practice the correct settings on my camera.

The owl disappeared but in the distance I could see another four owls, circling high in the grey sky having a dispute and calling with discordant, sharp, barking cries before separating and dropping back to earth.

A car came down the lane and the driver, presumably a birder asked me if any owls were here, informing me that the owls had been showing well half a mile up the lane but I was content by my wall, happy in my own company. In situations such as here and where to be left alone is a rare event it is only when I can endeavour to be free of company that I feel in harmony with the land and the overall experience becomes its most  enjoyable..

For the next hour and a half no more owls patrolled the field but it was no hardship, as alone I contemplated  a landscape declining towards day's end, the air still as if holding its breath in anticipation of the approaching elemental turbulence. Pheasants became increasingly noisy, the cocks croaking challenges to one another from the long grass, a Raven 'cronked' from a tall tree in the distance as small flocks of twittering Goldfinches passed overhead. A pair of wintering stonechats followed each other across the field, perching on prominent dead stems, tiny dark images, that dived to earth in a sea of withered grass chasing after ants and spiders, then to re-emerge and once more achieve prominence on an elevated perch.The melancholy contact calls of a pair of Bullfinches, unseen in a nearby isolated hawthorn served to enhance the sense of abandonment here and winter's dormant emptiness. 

After a long wait another owl flew over the field, this time  to cross the lane and disappear into the distance behind me. I felt a chill wind commencing so at shortly after three pm I left. It would be dark in another hour. 

I had been fortunate to see this final Short eared Owl so close, if only for a minute.

There will be other days to see them this winter of that I am certain.