Four Dotterels in the Brecon Beacons 5th May 2025

Bank Holiday Monday and having only yesterday returned from two weeks on the Isle of Arran I was not really in the mood for substituting Arran's rocky shores and golden sands for the  bleak concrete confines of my local Farmoor Reservoir.. There was also further disincentive in the form of a cold and strong wind blowing from the north which would render any birding at Farmoor uncomfortable to say the least

So what to do?

A report from a few days ago of four Dotterels making a stopover at Cwm Cadlan National Nature Reserve near Merthyr Tydfil in SouthWales was appealing and today they were reported to still be there. Dotterels are migratory plovers that spend the winter inhabiting a narrow band of semi desert in North Africa, extending from Morocco eastwards to Iran.They breed in the Arctic tundra from Norway to eastern Siberia whilst a small but declining number still breed in the Cairngorm mountains of Scotland.

Small groups of Dotterels known as trips are a regular feature of late Spring in Britain and such birds can turn up anywhere but usually favour grassland or extensive flat arable fields where they often remain for an extended period before moving north to their breeding grounds.

I was pleasantly surprised to find these four were only 82 miles from my home but less appealing was the fact it would require two and a half hours driving to get there. 

If I left fairly promptly I would be there by 11am. It was decision time!

I took the plunge and set off for the Land of Leeks. It was a far from unpleasant drive with surprisingly light traffic for a Bank Holiday Monday and for the most part I was driving through countryside at its very peak of Spring perfection. An abundance of roadside hawthorns spread shawls of thick white blossom over their branches, spilling down like melting ice cream and everywhere was vibrant in all possible shades of green that lasts only for these few wonderful weeks of burgeoning renewal 

Eventually I turned off the  main road and entered the reserve, passing over the Ponsticill Reservoir's narrow causeway, following a lane into woodland and then out onto an even narrower road that climbed ever upwards, taking me higher into an open airy landscape of grassy plateaux while in the distance rose the undeniably wild and magnificent Brecon Beacons. 

It was both uplifting and energising. Following Birdguides directions I carried on driving until I was at a summit before the road dipped downwards. Here I discovered four other cars parked somewhat haphazardly on the verge

I had arrived at my destination and for miles a rural landscape of moorland and mountain lay around me but where on earth in all this vast open countryside were the Dotterels? Clearly they were not on the small road I was parked by so must be out there in the open country somewhere.but which side of the road? Logic told me they would be on the right side where the  land rose further to another ridge

Fortunately I knew that Richard  a friend of mine had been here to see the Dotterels earlier this morning so I rang him.

Hi Richard, I am at the Dotterel site but not sure where to go to find them

Ever helpful Richard told me, as I had summised, that they were off to my right where the ground rose to a ridge with a some small rocks along its top.

Great. Thanks

I set off into thick and rough tussocky grass and headed skywards towards the rocks.I followed a narrow indefinite track that had been formed through the grass by presumably other birders or sheep and eventually made it to the the ridge but found no sign of anyone. My heart already beating fast due to the effort of making it to the ridge sank as I saw a handful of birders lined up on yet another distant ridge obviously looking at the Dotterels

Another lung bursting yomp through uneven terrain ensued to get to them and twenty minutes later I arrived amongst a scattering of limestone slabs known as limestone pavement and to my mind not dissimilar to where Dotterels like to nest in the Cairngorms.

The small gathering of four or five birders were crouched here on the flat rocks watching the Dotterels as they fed on the damp slightly spongy turf amongst the rocks in typical plover fashion, moving amongst the rocks, regularly appearing and disappearing but always keeping in casual contact with one another. 

Now at an elevation of 458m  there was no hiding place in this exposed area of rocks and grass from a wind that blew strong and cold with precious little to hinder it. I sat on a rock, shivered inwardly and waited as did the others. Fortunately everyone of us was for once of a like mind and understood the best course of action was to sit on the rocks and wait for the birds to come to us rather than chase around after them. it really was no hardship to sit in this remote and scenic place with the promise of the Dotterels eventual arrival before us to come.

For a while they remained at some distance amongst the furthest rocks but slowly worked their way towards us, their heads poking over rocks and then disappearing only to re-apppear somewhere else but inexorably moving closer.

There were two females and two males and as every birder knows the females are the more brightly coloured of the two sexes and unusually it is the male who is not only duller in plumage but incubates the eggs and looks after the young whilst the female goes off in search of another mate.

Despite my thick warm downlined jacket the wind was making life thoroughly uncomfortable. All was forgotten however when a female suddenly appeared from behind a rock, in the open and relatively close. Here at last was my opportunity to record and enjoy this beautifully coloured bird with its bold white eyebrows, rich rufous breast and black belly.What a sight as she posed perfectly for a few seconds on the short moorland grass.

We remained motionless and allowed her and the other three birds to pass by but the best was yet to come as they worked their way further up the sloping terrain to the edge of the rocks and then returned but much closer this time. Slowly they moved nearer and nearer until a male and female were no more than a dozen feet from us.It was quite unbelievable how confiding they were and we made the most of it. Everyone had a camera of course and there was no possible need to move closer so the birds remained confident and untroubled by our presence.

Female Dotterel

Male Dotterel

Their mode of feeding was in typical plover style.Standing motionless for a while and then moving onwards a few steps. Their large dark eyes surveyed the ground for the tiniest of movement that would betray their invertebrate prey. Every action was performed in a halting, considered fashion.When they saw anything they would instantly move to seize it or on a number of occasions dig whatever it was out of the ground with their bill.Then they would move on to repeat the process over and over.All in total silence.

I set my camera into overdrive as I lapped up this golden opportunity to get some amazing close up images of what is now becoming an increasingly rare bird in Britain.They were the proverbial birder/photographer's dream come true.

It could not last of course and they slowly moved away and we resorted to chatting amongst ourselves and sharing our thoughts on this very special moment.A release of tension and a communion amongst like minded people. Strangers but bonded for a moment in time by this experience.

Chasing a Gropper 17th April 2025

Grasshopper Warblers (groppers in slang birding parlance) have proved, for some reason, a difficult bird for me to catch up with. Maybe it is my bad luck, as when others see them really well I am always for whatever reason somewhere else. Even hearing them without seeing them has proved frustrating as when I go to where they have been heard singing loud and clear I am met with silence. I can and have stood for over an hour at a known location but heard not a peep.

This year looked like it was going to be no different and the same frustrating state of affairs would be my lot yet again. On Sunday last I had a lunchtime social arrangement with Mrs U  and friends and what should happen but not one but two groppers were found at Pinkhill just outside the boundary of Farmoor Reservoir, one of which showed itself well and gave some great photo opportunities.

Pinkhill is ideal gropper habitat, being a largish neglected area of dead umbellifer and willow herb stems with the occasional hawthorn bush growing in their midst and with the River Thames running close by. Similar habitat exists on the other side of the river too and every year Grasshopper Warblers set up territories here.This year there are three possibly four males singing away in the stems

Fired with enthusiasm I resolved to head for Pinkhill early the next morning and of course there was neither sight nor sound of a gropper.

These Spring days with bird migration in full swing I am at Farmoor Reservoir virtually daily and on a dull overcast Tuesday I was wandering up the causeway when Dave, a fellow Farmoor regular sent me a text advising  a gropper was showing really well in a ditch full of dead umbellifer stems by the approach road to the northwestern end of the reservoir and Pinkhill. 

Fortunately I was at the right end of the causeway and made haste to the ditch and lo the gropper was reeling away loud and clear. Success! That was the easy bit but as any birder will tell you the harder part is to locate the bird, often perched low down in the depths of dense vegetation and not helped by the fact the warbler  imbues its voice with ventriloquial properties. The reeling song seems to be coming from one spot when in fact it is in another. They achieve this by turning their head one way and then another so the continuous  grasshopper like sound they make is projected in whatever direction their head is pointed.

Finally a movement, low in the thickest part of a maze of dead stems betrayed the bird, perching low down in the ditch. It was not there for long as it was promptly chased off by a territorial Sedge Warbler and fled further  along the ditch and disappeared under the rank grass at the bottom. Frustration and no little cursing on my part was directed at the Sedge Warbler.

Eventually the gropper was up again, reeling and again the process of locating it was a trial, but having been successful in locating it the first dog walker of the day arrived. Cue disappearing bird and much metaphorical gnashing of teeth. Mine not the dog. I should explain the approach road, accessible only to Thames Water vehicles and hardly used, conveniently links the nearby village houses with the Thames Path that winds its way alongside the river in  undeniably idyllic countryside so you can hardly blame people for walking their dogs here. It is also used by joggers and runners as a means of access to the perimeter track of the reservoir

The ditch frequented by the Grasshopper Warbler

Another twenty minutes passed in silence and then to my relief the gropper was back singing again and giving me a clear view. Great. I was just about to lock the camera onto it when a jogger came galumphing past, the warbler took fright and dropped like a stone into the rank grass in the ditch bottom

And so it went on as an intermittent procession of dog walkers, joggers and workmen came past at crucial moments.It seemed as if a curse had been put on me that every time I saw the bird well someone would arrive at the critical moment to scare the bird away. My frustration grew and grew until it got the better of me after a couple of hours and I departed in a huff.

Fast forward to Wednesday. A day of gale force, cold southwest wind that threatened to blow me off the reservoir causeway. I decided to try the ditch in the forlorn hope it might be more sheltered from the wind but it was only marginally so, although even  above the roar of the wind I could just about hear the gropper reeling but finding it in the swaying stems and gusting wind was a hopeless task and I left it at that.

Not willing to throw in the towel and  give up, I checked the weather forecast for the next day  I was encouraged to see the wind was predicted to die away to virtually nothing overnight.I formulated a plan to leave the house at 6am and get to the ditch by  6.30am before the dog walkers or anyone else appeared and hope the warbler would perform. 

There were a lot of if's and but's and uncertainty to my plan, however if it did work it could be rather good and gropper redemption would be mine to savour. Would lady luck and a bit of planning be on my side?

I parked in the road of houses that backs onto the reservoir and took the tarmac track that leads to the reservoir gate and Pinkhill Lock.

It was very cold and I was thankful I had put on warm clothes. A clear night had allowed a light frost to coat the grass but the rising sun was promising a lovely morning. The cold air reacting with the warmer water of the nearby river had formed a bank of low lying mist, that drifted like wood smoke from the river across the fields and rank vegetation, creating a faint fuzziness to the scene before me.I was not worried as the sun, newly risen, bright and golden, would soon burn away the mist and shadows. 

The stage was set  and now required the star performer to make an entrance and bring  some undoubted glamour and glitz to complement an atmospheric landscape that was far from quiet as a cacophony of birdsong filled the still air, seeming to come from every hawthorn and blackthorn bush. It was an urgency of warbler song, the numerous whitethroats and sedge warblers, newly arrived from Africa competing to be the loudest and most vociferous.The air fairly rang with their energetic outpourings as they sang at full throttle to attract a mate.

All well and good but from the gropper there was not a sound. For ten minutes I stood a little forlorn but defiantly optimistic and for once my hopes were realised as a familiar but faint metallic sounding, high speed, non stop trilling came from the ditch. Instantly energised I approached to where the sound issued, deep in the ditch.Not a dog walker in sight. I reckoned I had about twenty minutes before the first dog walker arrived, just me and the gropper and a host of its migrant warbler friends.

This time the bird was almost immediately visible, perching higher than it had at any time before on a dead stem. Its buff breast, illuminated almost to whiteness by the first rays of the sun reaching the ditch, betraying it amongst the dark stems. In typical fashion it moved its head from side to side. its bill wide open  to reveal a pale yellow gape as it poured forth its extraordinary insect like song.

I got my photos and the first dog walker duly arrived bang on time. I resolved to stick it out and see what would transpire.I had all day after all and it was only just gone 7.30am.The gropper seemed to hsve changed its behaviour since its first arrival and become much bolder and as the sun grew in strength and warmed during the morning, it would rise relatively high, well a few feet anyway, up a dead umbellifer stem to sing fully in  view.It seemed to no longer be troubled by the feisty Sedge Warbler and at times would sing close to it.Similarly it was more tolerant of all the birders come to admire it.

Gaining confidence over the next two hours I approached the gropper more closely and it would allow me to get within about eight metres without showing alarm but any closer and it dropped into the grass and threaded its hidden way underneath. I was close enough at times to note that its whole body, especially its tail, vibrated as it sang with a wide open bill, the mandibles held firm and non moving as the song emerged from its throat. Another feature observed from close range were its bright pink legs and feet, the elongated delicate toes no doubt adapted to aid its mouse like existence running across the ground and through grass.I have seen similar feet on a vagrant Pechora Pipit on Shetland, another haunter of rank grass and vegetation.

The song when heard close has a peculiar mechanical tone and is delivered at high speed creating an insect like reeling sound that is ventriloquial. Although it can sing throughout the day as this one did they sing most frequently at dawn and dusk.

It sang regularly but never for more than a minute in duration, often  much less. In between singing it would drop under the grass to emerge some minutes later a short distance away from where it had disappeared.Grasshopper Warblers rarely fly much except on migration, preferring to skulk on or just above the ground and run around like a mouse, for the most part remaining invisible. The males only make themselves visible when they sidle up stems or perch low in bushes and commence to sing to attract a mate

Grasshopper Warblers breed from Spain and France right across northern Europe to Scandinavia and western Russia.They migrate  to spend the winter in northern parts of tropical Africa south of the Sahara. Currently they are Red Listed under IUCN criteria and despite declining due to loss of habitat in both their winter and summer ranges, they still have an estimated population of 840,000-1.2 million breeding pairs and so are currently designated of Least Concern.

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A Spring Whitethroat 11th April 2025

Spring has come earlier than expected this year with a week of sunny weather settled over Britain. Despite the cold wind the landscape seems to change hourly so fast is the growth.

This time last year I wrote of Spring in May see here but such has been the extended spell of benign weather it appears to have advanced by at least two weeks.

Most noticeable are the eye catching white patches of flowering blackthorn in the hedgerows, the millions of small flowers turning each bush into a cumulus of billowing white as if a cloud  has fallen to earth. I can only think that this phenomenon has come about as the myriads of tiny, delicate white flowers have had the opportunity to thrive in the dry conditions and not endure the more usual battering of wind and rain that is often an unwelcome accompaniment to this time of year.

In line with this year's more advanced season has been the early arrival of a familiar warbler from sub saharan Africa, the Common Whitethroat.

It is impossible to feel anything but affection for this irrepressible and endearing little bird, that comes to us by some miracle of intuitive navigation from its winter home in Africa to settle here for the summer in my part of Oxfordshire, as do countless others of its kind throughout the length of Britain. The males sing to advertise their presence immediately on arrival and for a couple of weeks make themselves very obvious, singing from exposed perches or flinging themselves in a jitterbug flight of passion into a cloudless sky in order to attract the later ariving females.

I rose early today, so early the dew still lay in a heavy wetness on the grass but on a morning where, at last the chill of the persistent northerly wind had faded to a vague murmur from the southwest. I walked around a yet to open, deserted Farmoor reservoir to Pinkhill Lock, down on the river and where I knew at least two whitethroats had arrived in the last few days.

The lack of wind meant the waters of the reservoir were as of glass, a mirror of stillness as I made my way across the causeway to Pinkhill, there to stand at the head of the path leading down to the lock keeper's cottage. Scattered hawthorns, freshly garlanded with emerging green leaves stood by the path as a ragged wire fence struggled its way onwards towards Farmoor Village just beyond the reservoir boundary and made invisible behind a blur of yellow, the dusted catspaws of willow flowers, and those inveterate colonisers of waste ground, bramble and hawthorn.

I stood motionless, listening, and soon the cheery impatient warble of a male whitethroat, hidden in one of the hawthorns came on the still air. I continued to stand, waiting to detect  any movement within the hawthorn that would betray the bird's hiding place..

It did not take long before he partially revealed himself, threading his nimble body through the puzzle of branches, broken twigs, thorns and emergent leaves, picking off insects, left, right and centre. 

He sang again and emboldened moved higher up the tree until reaching the very top, where he cocked his head to listen for any challenge, before delivering a burst of intense song, directed at a rival nearby.

For a minute he clutched the highest twig, fully in the open and sang once, twice more, before the exposure was too much to bear and he sought sanctuary within the heart of the tree once more.

There was to be no repeat, the bird content to spread its message from within the concealment of the tree.

I reflected, not for the first time on this unremarkable annual encounter. It was of course nothing of the sort but a minor miracle.that this tiny bird had survived countless dangers and made its perilous journey under the stars all the way from Africa, to bring a few minutes of immense fulfilment and pleasure to this earthbound mortal.

Early Spiders in Dorset 8th April 2025

The last time I set eyes on an Early Spider Orchid was around thirty years ago when I lived in Sussex and they were pointed out to me, growing unobtrusively by a grass track at Beachy Head.

Today Peter had planned a trip to Dorset to see them at the 320 acre Durlston Country Park and National Nature Reserve which is near Swanage in Dorset and suggested I might like to come along which I willingly accepted as he also offered to drive.

I always find driving to anywhere in Dorset a chore as the roads nowadays, once past the New Forest are inadequate to accommodate the large amounts of vehicles that now wish to use them. Couple this with the fact it was school half term and sunny and it did not augur well.Thus a journey of just over a hundred miles seemed double that due to the time it took to get there - two and a half hours.

We duly arrived at Durlston CP around lunchtime and, with only a vague idea of where to go and look for the orchids, logically headed for the Visitor Centre for some guidance.We got some of sorts from a not very enthusiastic lady ranger and eventually the two main areas to locate them were pointed out to us on a static display. We should have requested a map with specific directions but we got the impression that we were not the kind of visitor, arriving with a specific target in mind, that they really catered for. 

Primarily a Mediterranean species and closely related to Bee Orchids, the Early Spider Orchid is at the northernmost limit of its range in southern England where it is considered to be local and uncommon. They grow in coastal areas, mainly in Kent, Sussex and Dorset but one was found as far north as Northamptonshire in 2001.The first record there for 230 years. 

Flowering from mid April until the end of May they were the earliest orchid to flower in Britain until the colony of Giant Orchids was discovered in my home county of Oxfordshire in.2022. 

As with much of our specialised flora it has suffered from habitat degradation such as ploughing and changes in grazing regimes but in places where the  land management is sympathetic it still thrives in good numbers on its favoured closely grazed, unimproved chalk grassland.

Early Spider Orchids have a three year growth cycle from seed to flower and the success or otherwise of the plant's setting seed is the main factor in affecting the orchid's numbers. They are small, growing from 5-30cm tall and the ones  we came to see here in Dorset are said to be at the smaller end of the spectrum, ranging from 2-7cm in height.The lip of the flower is coloured a deep rich brown with a smooth blue grey mark shaped like the letter H at its centre but the orchid gets its name from the fact that the petals and sepals are long and slender and reminiscent of a spider's legs However it attracts its pollinator, the male Solitary Bee by sexual deceit as the round, convex, velvety lip of the flower resembles a fat, hairy female bee and even smells like a female thus attracting the male bee to attempt to mate with it and in the process he collects pollen on his head and body which gets transferred to the next plant he tries it on with.

The first of the two areas we were directed to was in a field above the Visitor Centre and the associated car parks that are built into the side of a steep hill and after a yomp up various lung busting inclines and through latched gates we thought we might be in the field that the ranger had told us to seek, although we were none too sure.

We separated and crossed and re-crossed the field that glowed yellow with a profusion of cowslips but apparently with  no orchids. 

I recalled the ranger lady said the orchids were in a corner of the field so gravitated there and after checking countless cowslips at my feet, there, thrillingly and unexpectedly was an Early Spider Orchid amongst them. Just one and tiny, no more than a few centimetres tall but, as they say, perfectly formed and with a large bee like  flower showing to perfection amongst its pale yellow green petals and sepals supported on a short, fleshy green stalk.

I looked up to call to Peter about my find but there was no sign of him as presumably he was searching elsewhere.  I prostrated myself on the grass and took some images of the coveted orchid. Peter rejoined me and  I moved over to allow him to take his shots. The ranger had said there were a good number of orchids to be found here but we only found one more and that only after a good deal of searching. Maybe we were too early?.

A rather fruitless period then ensued, where we separated once again and Peter failed to find any at the second location we had been told about near the Anvil Point Lighthouse.Frustrated and tired of tramping up and down the steep gradients and knowing there were definitely many on the downland slopes near the lighthouse we went back to the Visitor Centre for more precise directions. I waited outside while Peter went to  find some staff who this time were much more co-operative about assisting us to see the orchids.

Photographing the orchids

Anvil Point Lighthouse and the slope where we found many Early Spider Orchids

He returned with  detailed directions as to where to find them on a slope above and west of the lighthouse and after walking for fifteen minutes we ascended a steep slope and found in excess of a hundred growing there, scattered randomly  on the chalk downland. 

Some had been trodden down by the passing feet of unknowing visitors but many more were thriving off the beaten track so to speak and we made the most of it, wandering hither and thither photographing any that took our fancy. In sheltered areas some were slightly taller and others had their bee like flowers faded to an orange buff due, I am led to believe, to being already pollinated.

So small and seemingly insignificant amongst the short grass they were to me like tiny gems that turned the ordinary into the extraordinary. Another life fulfilling experience to add to so many others.

For half an hour we happily discovered more and more Early Spider Orchids until eventually we had our fill and by mutual agreement returned to the car park, considering our mission well and truly accomplished.