Adult and juvenile Common Tern |
Juvenile Common Tern |
Of course my optimism was soon dispelled with a walk along the reservoir causeway revealing very little apart from a few Sand Martins and Swallows brought down by the lowering rain clouds to hunt insects almost at ground level. The juvenile Red crested Pochard that has lingered here for some days now was feeding in the choppy waters and as usual associating with some dowdy moulting Mallards.
Juvenile Red crested Pochard |
On gaining the far end of the causeway I joined Dave who had seen pretty much the same as me.We stood and chatted whilst scanning the two reservoir basins..A few more hirundines scudded across the grey waters, rising and falling as they mastered the contrary currents of the strengthening wind and we were joined by Ben. It was Dave who saved the day when, on turning to scan the smaller basin he discovered a Black Tern arriving from the north and which proceeded to steadily beat into a strong southeast headwind, frustratingly always remaining far out in the middle of the basin. It intermittently revealed itself but always at a distance and eventually transferred to the larger basin and with the onset of a mizzle of rain proved an ongoing trial to follow as its grey plumage faithfully matched the similar coloured waters that it flew over.
Dave departed,then so did Ben. I hung on for a while in case anything else might arrive but it looked unlikely and the reservoir, as it always does these days became ever more busy with joggers,walkers yachts and windsurfers.
There was little point in remaining, so in a mood for somewhere a little quieter and less populated I took myself to Rushy Common, a few miles distant, operating on the maxim that 'a change is as good as a rest'. Also Rushy has a nice hide to sit in which would make a pleasant alternative to the exposed concrete causeway I currently stood upon and that has become so familiar over the years.
It was proving to be a morning of intermittent light rain, enough to be tiresome and again it would be an unfamiliar pleasure to not be exposed to the capricious elements on the reservoir's causeway but safe in a capacious hide which I would probably, on a day such as this, have entirely to myself.
Rushy Common is situated in open countryside, distant enough from the nearby town of Witney to require access by car and is a nature reserve created from a former gravel pit with working pits just the other side of the rural single carriageway road that leads to it. Access to the hide is along a tree bowered track to a gate secured by a formidable padlock which can be opened by a key. Another short walk then brings you to the hide which overlooks a large lake and can be opened by the same key required for the gate.
Due to its secure and concealed location the hide can safely keep reference books, noticeboards and other birding paraphernalia within its interior which is rare these days due to the ever present threat of vandalism and it is so far so good with regard to the hide at Rushy which remains sacrosanct, comfortable and clean.
I opened the hide door, stepped inside and a familiar odour of ageing, damp wood enveloped me. I opened the viewing slats and drawing up a bench looked out across the lake.
Nothing much was apparent at first but a large white bird with a smaller one nearby, stalking along the far bank proved to be a Great White Egret and a Little Egret.The former, once a national rarity but now very much a breeding bird on the Somerset Levels is regular in Oxfordshire, present virtually year round although as yet there have been no known breeding records but I doubt it will be long before there are.
Great White Egret |
After this minor triumph nothing more came to interrupt what became a gentle freewheeling of spirit and body as I contemplated the lake and its rural surrounds, my mind sorting through the ephemera gathered within and that gently comes and goes in quiet moments such as this. It is not unpleasant this rinsing of emotions and experiences, a cleansing if you wish, to prepare for the further stuff of life to come. Mindfulness seems to be the word for it these days although I have practiced it for years.
My reverie was interrupted as another of the lake's residents came into view, a Great crested Grebe, floating in indolent circles on the water, a little way out from me. Idling and quite at ease.
There was however something not quite right about the humped shape of its back and checking through my scope I saw to my surprise and I confess delight, the sight of a young grebe sat snugly amongst the brown feathers on the top of the grebe's back. Its head, akin in appearance to those delicious humbugs that I used to suck on the way to school, poked out enquiringly, a greyish white head that was decorated by black stripes and a curious inverted triangle of pink skin on its forehead.
I always hoped to be in a position to photograph this well known aspect of grebe behaviour, swans do it too, and here, by sheer chance that opportunity had presented itself.
I set about taking some images and on reviewing them on the back of my camera found there were actually two young birds on the grebe's back!
Then a harsh, sharp call, almost a dog like bark came from further out on the lake and another Great crested Grebe was swimming purposefully towards the trio. In its bill it carried a fairly large fish, possibly a roach which was held securely by the head, dangling helplessly between pincer like black mandibles. Slowly it approached the other grebe and proffered the fish to one of the young but it proved too big and was abandoned. Later the same young bird was offered a much smaller and manageable fish.
I assumed the parent transporting the young on its back was the female of the pair but it was impossible to tell for sure.
The young eventually left the grebe's back and with juvenile remaining very close to a parent followed in their wake
Judging by the size of the juveniles it will not be long before they are too big to hitch a lift but for now the parents seemed content enough to indulge their progeny.
After half an hour they swam back into the reeds further along the shore and I saw them no more.