A Northern Epic 8th February 2015

Friday 7th February was a very busy and frustrating day for me, commencing with waiting in the house for an errant courier to deliver something that was urgently required but that only arrived at lunchtime, then driving to Cirencester for new glasses and finally attempting to get my upgraded I-phone sorted out which resulted in yet more cursing and frustration when the darn thing just would not co-operate to my satisfaction. At times like this I find it is best to just walk away and then come back to the problem. Thankfully this ruse worked and I finally got the phone set up the way I wanted. 

I needed some bird action desperately to compensate for my day of frustrations and a Laughing Gull at New Brighton, located on the northeast corner of the Wirral Peninsula by the Irish Sea, was just the answer. It would be a long drive north and some company would be nice so who better than the Clackmeister aka Keith Clack. I put in a call that evening and as usual Keith was more than happy to come with me at very short notice.

At the civilised birding hour of 8am on Saturday I drew up outside Keith's house in Witney on a gloomy morning, the kind of dull, grey morning that dampens your spirit with its depressing overtones and makes you question whether you really have made the right decision to get out of bed. In no time we were on the M40 and heading north, cruising around Birmingham and then onwards up the busy M6 on the long haul to the northwest. As we were speeding ever northwestwards the weather improved as did our mood until, by the time we had reached the  M56, it was sunny and calm and we were in a jovial almost skittish mood. We passed the scarily monstrous chemical works at Widnes, displaying a formidable array of technology way beyond our comprehension, with a mass of pipes, weird looking structures and chimneys with vast spiralling columns of white smoke ascending vertically into the cloudless and windless sky. Eddie Stobart, of trucking fame, also had a huge depot right by the Motorway as we headed west. Once past the built up areas we then went through much more pleasant rural surroundings until we came to the coast and the wide esplanades, entertainment and shopping arcades and closely mown grassy expanses of New Brighton seafront.

It was only when we arrived that I realised I had been here before some four years ago, was it really that long, when I came to see another rarity, a Little Swift roosting on the window ledge of a block of upmarket seafront apartments just a few hundred metres down the road from our present location. Happy days and hopefully it would be the same today.

We drove further down the road into town and soon saw a cluster of birders to our left all lined up along a walkway called Kings Parade, part of a £60 million re-development scheme running between various modern food and retail outlets and the Marine Lake, a large lagoon with a series of joined pontoons floating in it. 'This must be it Clackers. Doors to manual!'  After some bother we managed to find virtually the last available parking space on the esplanade and gathering body and soul together walked back to join the throng of not only birders, but shoppers and people just out to take the air, stoically trying to appear totally incurious about the assemblage of camouflage clothed men and a fortune in high class optics and cameras, all pointing at an innocuous pontoon floating in the lagoon.

Saturday morning Twitchers. The gull later landed on the pontoon parallel with the wall

The Marine Lake and some of the pontoons

As  twitches go this one was possibly one of the most civilised. No mud, wind or rain to contend with, no long walk or long wait and any number of outlets literally within feet of us from which to purchase hot drinks, food or whatever took one's fancy. It certainly was not like this on North Uist!

I knew from reference to the internet that the pontoons were the Laughing Gull's resting place of choice but at first was unable to see it. A close packed huddle of around a hundred brown and white Turnstones with another fifty Common Redshanks, much greyer and standing taller within them, were roosting on the pontoons. A lone Sanderling, gleaming white like the surf on the shore stood out in front of them but where was the gull?

Some of the roosting Turnstones, the Sanderling and a Common Redshank

Then we found it, standing alone and some distance apart from the massed wader throng, its dull and dark grey upperparts almost matching the colour of the pontoon and making it surprisingly inconspicuous.

The Laughing Gull with at least five Purple Sandpipers behind it

'Well that didn't take long Clackers'. 'No indeed old boy. Must be all of two minutes.'

Clackers triumphant having scoped the gull

We walked further along the walkway skirting the edge of the lagoon to get closer to the gull. We came to a stop in front of  'Chimichanga', a restaurant serving Mexican food. They even had tables and chairs outside, so if we had a mind to we could have had a coffee and watched the gull from there. We resisted the temptation but only just.

Discussions are currently airing on the internet about the age of the gull. It certainly is not an adult and to me looks to be a first winter but now in  its second calendar year as it had much faded brown feathering on its wings, a scruffy apology for a black hood. and a black tail. The features that struck me were not so much its plumage but its long, dark brownish red beak, it really was striking and equally so were its long similarly coloured legs, the combination of long bill and legs giving it a somewhat rakish demeanour, but what a beauty it was. This is the fourth one I have seen in the UK and curiously all bar one have also featured on pontoons in various parts of the UK. Life's little co-incidences never cease to amaze. The exception was an adult subsisting on an endless supply of chips from McDonalds, in the unlikely surrounds of a car park by  the Madjeski football stadium, home to Reading Football Club.

While I was taking pictures of the gull Clackers had meanwhile been scoping the roosting waders and found not one but  nine Purple Sandpipers roosting with the Turnstones. They kept discreetly to themselves on the very edge of the flock. A delightful surprise for both of us. Every so often the whole huddle of waders would start hopping on one leg as first one roosting wader would adjust its position which then had a cumulative effect on its neighbours and so on until the whole flock were at it.

I took more pictures and the gull stood looking around and not doing very much. Some people on previous days had said it was not well but it looked perfectly happy to me. We watched it for fifteen minutes or so and then it took to the air and flew off to the nearby adjacent beach. Most of our fellow birders and photographers followed and headed off for the promenade which overlooks the beach. We waited as we were reasonably certain it would return fairly soon. Patience is one virtue we have learned over the years and it usually brings dividends as was demonstrably shown a little later.

Life went on around us, a family on bikes parked their cycles by the railings and went in to the restaurant behind us while other people strolled by or just sat and watched. Across the road the funfair, bowling alley and various other seaside entertainments stood ready to receive all comers. I imagine this place must be heaving with humanity in the summer and it wasn't doing too badly just now. An enormous Morrisons was doing a roaring trade judging by the number of cars queuing to get in to the car park. Huge container ships came into the estuary and headed for the docks in Liverpool.

We fell into conversation with a local couple who told us about a couple of Snow Buntings just a mile south, frequenting the beach at the far end of the promenade and also about Burton Mere Wetlands RSPB Reserve on the Dee Estuary, which neither of us had ever heard about, that was further down the coast and where a Long eared Owl had been seen yesterday. Having seen the Laughing Gull so well and so quickly we now had time on our hands and it seemed such a waste to just go home without taking advantage of this local knowledge and information

They gave us directions and we made a mental note to not go immediately and try for these but wait until we had our fill of the currently absent Laughing Gull. We were now about the only birders left on the walkway as everyone else had decamped to the promenade overlooking the beach in search of the gull.

Speculating to Clackers on the exact current whereabouts of the gull I noticed a dark grey gull flying towards us. 'Keith its here, its back' and the Laughing Gull glided back over the lagoon but did not land on its earlier resting place on the more distant pontoon but came ever closer to settle on the pontoon literally a few metres below us and began to survey the scraps of bread and peeled prawns that had been thrown down, presumably by photographers and birders, to lure it in.

At times it was just too close for photography as it paraded up and down resolutely ignoring the bread but swallowing selected prawns at a prodigious pace. I prostrated myself across the walkway to get a better angle for photography hoping any one passing would just step over me. Whether they did or not I do not know, Who cares, it was now or never as I was unlikely to get such an opportunity again. The gull, looking like a leggy model on an exclusive catwalk paraded up and down selecting those prawns that took its fancy. Acting every bit the star that it was.

As I rose from the ground a birder asked me 'Well how many miles have you done in the Black  Audi today?' I regret in the heat of the moment that I was so tired and excited at seeing the gull I neglected to ask his name so if you are reading this please accept my apologies and it was very nice of you to stop and speak to me! (I now know this was Ryan from Blackpool).

The absent birders and photographers finally caught up and joined us on the walkway and there was much pressing of camera shutters as we all went for that ultimate shot. Let's face it you could hardly fail and it was all great fun. The gull, finally replete, flew back to the more distant pontoon to stand amongst the throng of roosting waders. What an excellent start to the day.

The Laughing Gull, Purple Sandpipers, Turnstones and Common Redshanks

'Well Clackers I guess we should go and try for the Snow Buntings or we could try for some breakfast?' There then came one of those moments where neither of us could make a decision as each of us was relying on the other to decide. Five minutes of equivocation passed and finally it was decided. Snow Buntings first and then something to eat. We returned to the Black Audi and headed back south along the wide esplanade road to the far end and the long expanse of sandy beach. It did not look good as there were many people out and about but on enquiring of two birders just leaving the beach we were assured that the Snow Buntings were still there and they pointed to two lone figures standing a few hundred metres away on the beach intently looking up the beach at the high tideline. 'That is where they are' they informed us.

The Beach.The Snow Buntings were on the sand just below the concrete slope

A short walk brought us level with the Snow Buntings and in their charming unique way the buntings shuffled about inconspicuously amongst the dead seaweed. old gull feathers, bits of wood and straw finding unknown sustenance, although we noticed that seed had also been put down for them further along the beach.

They are the most delightful birds, always sought after by birders, with a pleasing aura about them and showing beautifully intricate plumage patterns. I always notice their buttercup golden bills as they nibble the seeds. The two buntings kept close together, showing little fear and as we left were still delighting birders and passersby alike.

Now it was around lunchtime and the whole area was seething with traffic and people. We drove back into town looking for a place to eat. I was by now flagging badly, feeling the combined effects of having had no breakfast and with a long drive already under my belt. The adrenalin of a twitch was a fast fading memory, as tiredness and frustration at the traffic chaos all around us took over. Earlier we had noticed 'The Seaside Cafe' as we parked the car on our initial arrival and this famed establishment now looked a good bet to satisfy our hunger, so we endeavoured to find somewhere to park nearby. It was hopeless, cars were everywhere and every possible parking space was taken and worse the police were taking a keen interest in any transgressing motorists. Even the huge Morrisons car park  was full. We went up and down the lines of parked vehicles and then up and down again. I was about to quit and head out of town when finally we found someone backing out of a space and took our turn to occupy it.

The Seaside Cafe

The Seaside Cafe, friendly, cheap and basic but obviously very popular, was busy and after a fried breakfast for Clackers and fish and chips for me, plus reviving tea, we both felt a whole lot better about the world. I googled Burton Mere Wetlands Reserve on my now all singing all dancing I-phone and got the postcode and we set off in the direction the Satnav instructed. A thirty minute drive brought us to the reserve and after a wrong turn we parked by a gate with other cars that overlooked a wide expanse of marshland but discovered we were in the wrong place for the Long eared Owl and the RSPB Centre.

Like a number of RSPB reserves, there is apparently some conflict with the local village, in this case Burton, about putting up signs directing people to the reserve. We have the same problem here in Oxfordshire with our RSPB Otmoor reserve. This seems particularly boneheaded on the part of the village residents as if they had clear signs they would not have cars going in the wrong direction, getting lost in their village streets and annoying them. Not putting up signs is not going to deter people from coming to the reserve which they are perfectly entitled to do anyway. Little England and small mindedness yet again rears its nasty little head.

A kindly couple from Newcastle directed us back up the road and following them we found ourselves in the busy RSPB  Visitor Centre car park and entering the very modern wooden structure that is the Visitor Centre where we showed our membership cards and were 'clicked' in to the reserve.  A volunteer showed us where to go for the owl.  Naturally it was about as far from the Centre as possible so we set off with many others on a long march through the very large reserve, walking along boardwalks and then muddy tracks and then boardwalk again.

Part of the Boardwalk through the Reserve

I suppose that a Saturday afternoon with a major rarity just 'down the road' was bound to make the reserve busy but the number of people was phenomenal and most were intent on seeing the owl. Many children were there which was great and hopefully they too got to see the Long eared Owl and to marvel at it.

We finally got to the owl. There was no mistaking the location as under a hawthorn was clustered some twenty souls looking across a small brook at another hawthorn just the other side of the brook.

Owl groupies with Clackers in the foreground

In amongst the tangle of twigs and branches sat the Long eared Owl, eyes mainly shut as if to avoid looking at the constantly revolving personnel of admirers, although on a couple of occasions it did half open them.

Stoically facing us about half way up the tree, seemingly relaxed and wonderfully camouflaged, it was, for a Long eared Owl, highly visible and pretty close. Its long 'ears' stood proud of its head and I could not fail to notice how large it really was.

There has of late been some horrific stories of photographers disturbing other Long eared Owls roosting at various places but thankfully there were wardens here to deter any 'over enthusiastic' birders or photographers so this owl was left in relative peace. It was still a struggle to find a sight line through all the twigs for the camera but by some judicious knee bending and neck contortions I found a way through the branches to get a half decent picture of most of it. There was a constant stream of people coming to see the owl and a similar constant stream of people leaving, all enthralled with their encounter with this magnificent bird.

We gave it thirty minutes and then commenced the long walk back to the Centre, birding as we went. There were a fair number of ducks but they were a long way out on the marshes. I heard a Spotted Redshank calling but we never saw it. Common Shelduck were feeding in the flashes with the odd Teal and Mallard whilst Lapwing and Wigeon flocks regularly rose up skywards in alarm but we never saw a raptor apart from  a Common Buzzard and a Common Kestrel although a Hen Harrier had been seen earlier in the day. A lone Pintail drake with a head the colour of dark chocolate and creamy white breast preened on one of the small grassy islands and a huge flock of Canada Geese did their usual routine of honking loudly and causing a general commotion as they flew aimlessly around. Walking past a reed bed, now in the late winter consisting of just dead, buff stems the height of a man, a sharp insistent alarm call betrayed a Cetti's Warbler, dark brown and elusive as ever, allowing one glimpse as it scuttled like a rodent through the base of the reed stems.

We got back to the Visitor Centre and after spending ten minutes locating an elusive Great Spotted Woodpecker high in the trees around the car park we set off for home in a slowly fading light. A brilliant day of  birding in an area much of which was little known to either of us until today but none the worse for that I say 

The Next Village 4th February 2015

The next village heading northeast from Kingham is Churchill, a mere mile and a half away. Like all the villages around here it is now just another much coveted Cotswold village, that is if you are a rich banker, celebrity or just have lots of money. I do not qualify on any of those counts but was lucky enough to move into our house in Kingham over twenty years ago before prices went sky high. When the time comes which will be soon now, I will take the money and run as Kingham is no longer what it was.

To reach a main road from our home, I have to drive along rural roads in whichever direction I am headed and if heading for Oxford or the RSPB Otmoor Reserve I usually pass through Churchill. This is not a hardship as I often see a variety of wildlife from the car such as Tawny and Barn Owls, many species of smaller birds, even a Canary once, also deer, badgers and foxes, all depending on the time of day or night when I pass along the roads that wind their way through the pleasant rural surroundings hereabouts.

Today was such a day. A brilliant but unforecast sun illuminated a very cold morning which found me heading out of Churchill, on my way to Essex, up a long road with wide grass verges bounded by traditional hedgerows and a variety of small trees interspersed along the hedgeline. Some of these were crab apple trees and many of the apples had fallen from the trees to form softening and partially rotting golden heaps under the trees and at the base of the hedge.

The crab apple trees are on the right looking down the road to Churchill

With the temperature at 9.30am hovering just below freezing and the ground consequently frozen solid and still white with frost, a number of birds were making the best of it by feeding on the apples or areas under the hedge that were frost free. 

Common birds such as Blackbirds were hard at work on the apples whilst Robins, Chaffinches and Dunnocks were all feeding at the base of the hedge but by far the most numerous species scoffing the apples were some fifty Fieldfares, that most wary and sociable of thrushes that visit us in winter from Scandinavia and points further east of there.

They were clustered together feeding on the restricted areas where the apples had fallen. They look fierce and characteristically, behave as if living up to their appearance, bickering with each other and the occasional Blackbird, emitting a continuous chackering chuckle of notes and occasionally a querulous, higher pitched note, sounding very much like a door with stiff hinges. The slightest hint of danger has them standing erect with head raised and purple brown wings drooped akimbo below their bodies, ready for instant flight. As big as a Mistle Thrush they have to be the most beautiful of thrushes that are found in the British Isles, with a pleasing patterning of black and brown spots and chevrons running in lines down their white underbodies, the white replaced by a yellowish buff background around their throats and on their breasts and topped off with a pale grey head. Their distinctive upperparts are plumbeous brown with pale grey rumps and a black tail, this often being the most usual view one gets of them as, alarmed, they flee to the very tops of surrounding trees and perch all facing in the same direction, silhouetted against the sky.

They were obviously uneasy feeding in this area alongside the hedge where their view was  restricted. These are birds of wide spaces, open fields, and moorland where the sightline runs for great distances. That is their preferred habitat as their name would imply but hard weather forces them to abandon their normal routine and seek food wherever they can find it. Fallen apples are a favourite and they will return time and again to such a source in hard weather, regardless of their fear.

As with the Common Buzzard of yesterday I used the car as a hide and managed to get reasonably close to them, parking by the roadside although most flew, mildly alarmed at my arrival, over the hedge to the other side leaving a few bolder ones on my side, but they too were always uneasy about the presence of the car as if sensing that the car hid something or someone that constituted danger. Regularly they would take fright and rise up with their companions on the other side of the hedge in a chackering starburst to perch high in a tree but soon would descend in individual, powerful and swooping flight back to the apples. I did my best to get some images of them but the blades of long grass always seemed to be between them and me.

After thirty minutes watching them a female Sparrowhawk in a swerving, alternating flight, hurtled at rocket speed along the hedgerow and the Fieldfares fled for their lives in all directions. It would be a long time, too long, if ever, until they returned so I headed off up the road musing on my pleasant interlude in rural northwest Oxfordshire. Maybe birding here is not so bad after all.

Local Celebrity 3rd February 2015

It's not all night drives to remote destinations you know. Just down the road, literally three minutes as you drive from my home in the village of Kingham and on the road to the next village of Churchill a certain bird has been causing quite a stir. It's a Common Buzzard, quite a pale one as buzzards go, and quite beautiful, certainly not sporting the usual dark brown plumage that is the default colour round these parts for our local buzzards. But this is not what is causing it to rapidly acquire celebrity status.

It has decided to sit, bold as you like on a hedge right beside a busy highway, well busy for a rural road, in order to hunt earthworms and anything else that may come its way from the field the other side of the hedge. The hedge conveniently has been trimmed so the top is square and flat just made for perching on. It sits there all day and nothing seems to worry it. The local bus, farm tractors, mums driving to pick up their offspring from the local school, even horse riders, all pass within feet of it and it does not stir.

The Buzzard sits on the right hand hedge just beyond the triangular sign.
Churchill Village is on the horizon

It's not often you can get this close to a buzzard but today I took the car, using it as a hide and parked adjacent to and about three or four metres away from the buzzard. It sat stoically looking at me and then with a metaphorical shrug twisted its head away to look back out over the field for anything that might be construed as food for a buzzard.

I sat in the car with the hazard lights blinking. The local bus stopped and the driver told me how it had been there for some time. Next, a lady with a car full of kids stopped and shared her joy at seeing it every day as she collected her kids from school.

The buzzard unaware of its rapidly escalating celebrity sat and I like to think pondered all the fuss. Long may it continue to sit here unafraid and unmolested. No doubt it will move on when conditions in the field change but until then it is bringing much joy and a pleasurable, diverting experience to everyone who notices and admires it. That surely is what our hobby is all about. Innocent pleasure in whatever feathered form it may come in and wherever it may occur, be it rare birds far away or confiding ones near to home such as 'our'  buzzard.

Two gulls and a goose 30th January 2015

Last year a first winter Kumlien's Gull decided to spend a few months at Littlehampton in West Sussex, mainly hanging around at the mouth of the River Arun which runs into the sea at Littlehampton,  It created quite a stir amongst us birding folk. In fact I went to see it no less than three times and took many photos of it last year, feeding on the beach tideline. Well, this January it decided to return to its old haunts and now in its second winter or third year of life was again frequenting the mouth of the River Arun  or loafing slightly upriver on the lifeboat slipway by the Look and Sea Visitor Centre. This year however it has proved more elusive than last year and has varied the locations it has favoured although generally remaining somewhere near to the tidal River Adur.

It now has some grey feathers appearing on its upperparts and its eye is beginning to turn pale. A gull for the birding connoisseur,  superficially it can look just like every other large immature gull hanging around the environs of the Arun or the beach,  however a closer look will reveal differences to our familiar Herring Gull. For a start its size is slightly smaller if a comparison can be made with any Herring Gull that happens to be alongside. The whole bird is more delicate with a smaller rounded head and a distinctive bi-coloured bill. Perhaps the most obvious difference is in the flight feathers which are brown on the outer four or five primaries but nowhere near the black brown of the same feathers on immature Herring Gulls of similar age.  

Kumlien's Gull is not yet a true species and may never be. Currently it is considered a hybrid between Iceland Gull which is a regular visitor to Great Britain in winter and Thayer's Gull  which is very rare in Great Britain. Kumlien's Gulls breed on Baffin Island and spend their winter on the northeast coast of America so they  are pretty scarce here, which is why it is always good to see one. This bird originating from America is now presumably settled  on this side of the Atlantic. Who knows what it will do next or where it will end up....

So another early start from Kingham was required, in the dark and wet and with the promise of a driving endurance test of nightmare proportions coping with heavy traffic all the way to Littlehampton, but after a couple of hours I was winding my way through the narrow streets of Littlehampton, finally coming to a stop in a small secluded car park a stone's throw from the slipway. 

The eastern promenade by the River Arun looking downriver to the sea in the

extreme distance.The slipway is just at the bottom left of the picture

The view from the top of the slipway where the lifeboat is launched from

The last reported sighting of the Kumlien's Gull had been from the slipway by the Visitor Centre a couple of days ago and although its behaviour is erratic and unpredictable this is the place it has been reported from most frequently so it made sense to start looking here. I walked to the slipway but disappointingly there was only a motley collection of Black headed Gulls and a couple of Herring Gulls standing around with some more large gulls circling high over the town calling loudly for no accountable reason. I used the gulls present to get my camera settings right so that all would be ready for the Kumlien's Gull if it ever showed up.

Adult Herring Gull

Second or third winter Herring Gull

One or two Black headed Gulls were already adopting their breeding plumage

I stood in the dull early morning by the Visitor Centre which at this time of year was firmly shut, the cafe dark and deserted and the ranks of outside tables, no doubt thronged on summer days, currently wet, forlorn and uninviting, their appearance somehow imparting the epitomy of a winter's weekday in a small South Coast seaside town. The promenade alongside the river where I stood outside the Visitor Centre was equally deserted. I had the place to myself. No other birders. No one at all.

The Look & Sea Visitor Centre

The lack of gulls was not a good start and something had to be done to attract the gulls to the slipway so I walked a few hundred metres to the town shops and had then to wait for ten minutes for Sainsbury's to open at 8am. The town was slowly awakening as if reluctant to embrace the cold damp morning but the forecast was good for later. My mission was to buy some cheap sliced bread and entice the gulls to come to the slipway to gobble up the slices as I lobbed them into the air from the promenade that overlooked the slipway and river. Hopefully the gulls that would be attracted might include the Kumlien's. Sainsbury's doors were duly flung open at the appointed hour and I headed for the shopping aisles and bought four sliced loaves for the gulls and then a hot chocolate for myself to keep body and soul together. That surely should be enough for both me and the gulls?

I walked back to the slipway with two loaves clutched in each hand. I need not have worried about the gulls coming to the bread. The gulls noticing what I was carrying as I approached the slipway headed for me at speed. A veritable tsunami of very excited gulls of all sizes flew around me at close range, squawking and wheeling in anticipation of being fed. They are obviously fed from here on a regular basis and judging by my experience can spot a loaf and its potential at many hundred metres. 

I scanned the gulls now squabbling over the bread I was dispensing on the sea and on the slipway, and to my delight found the Kumlien's Gull sitting demurely on the river a little way out from the vulgar scrum of gulls below me on the slipway, but still close enough to give me excellent views. 

Where it had appeared from I had no idea as I had scanned the river and found no trace of it but it was here now so any further thoughts in that direction were purely academic.

Second winter Kumlien's Gull

The Kumlien's Gull showing pale grey feathers on the mantle beginning to appear 

and on a few upper scapulars. Note how the darker brown outer primaries have 

whitish fringes and conceal the much paler inner primaries

I continued the supply of bread in between taking pictures of the Kumlien's Gull.  It was easy to pick out when flying due to all the flight feathers being pale milky brown, almost white apart from the outermost four or five, but when settled on the sea you had to look twice as the browner outer feathers covered the paler ones. 

The above two images show to good effect the contrasting pale inner flight feathers

and the outer primaries with their darker brown outer webs giving a stripey look to

the outer wing

Compare this image of the Kumlien's Gull with that of the similar aged

Herring Gull below

Second winter Herring Gull. Note the almost black flight and tail feathers, the

different tertial pattern and the different shaped, coarser and browner markings

on the wing coverts. The bill is also not so markedly bi-coloured and the head

shape is subtly different

Despite this it was also possible to pick it out due to its overall paler plumage. Most of the time the Kumlien's seemed somewhat overawed by the heavier more aggressive Herring Gulls and the sheer numbers of Black headed Gulls, but as time wore on it too finally plucked up courage and entered the fray to grab a slice of bread which it then carried off to swallow in flight pursued by a couple of ever hopeful Black headed Gulls.

Eventually the bread ran out and to my delight the Kumlien's settled on the wet concrete slipway and wandered around for ten or so minutes before flying off downriver towards the rivermouth. 

I made another visit to Sainsbury's and subsequent coaxing with a fresh supply of bread brought back many of the gulls but the Kumlien's Gull was not among them and so it appeared that the hour long show was well and truly over.

This unexpected success meant that I had achieved the purpose of my visit by 10am which was a pleasant surprise. Relaxed I decided to go and look at another American, a Ring billed Gull which was spending its twelth winter at Gosport, just forty minutes drive west of Littlehampton.

A gentle drive down the M27 and then through the shambles of housing, military buildings and roadworks leading to Gosport, found me parking by Walpole Park Boating Lake on what was now, due to the persistent northwest wind, a sunny but cold and blustery late morning.

Walpole Park looked even more derelict and uncared for than normal as both the lakes have been drained in an effort to improve and upgrade the area, so I was met with a large area of mud, pipes and machinery with patches of water lying on the muddy bottoms of the lakes. I found the Ring billed Gull easily, it was floating in the only reasonable sized area of water left but it soon flew off to its favourite site, the grass bank beside the road and then after some minutes flew off over the town and was not seen again.

Adult Ring billed Gull

It was still not lunchtime, so before leaving for home I decided to drive the short distance to the western edge of Gosport to HMS Sultan, a naval training base whose playing fields attract a large flock of Dark bellied Brent Geese at this time of year.  I was here with Badger a month ago and we found an adult Black Brant, the North American version of our familiar Dark bellied Brent Goose species, feeding with them.

I scanned the flock of geese and in a short while found the Black Brant, its pure white flanks gleaming distinctively in the sunshine. Even more interesting for me was the fact the Black Brant had two hybrid young with it so it had obviously bred with a Dark bellied Brent Goose last year and brought itself and its progeny to the exotic climes of Gosport! Why I had not noticed this on my previous visit is one of life's mysteries or maybe it was a different Black Brant we saw then? 

The adult, from its behaviour, appeared to be a female but sadly there was no sign of a mate but the juveniles stuck closely to the adult Black Brant so there was no doubt it was their parent. The juveniles were interesting in their own right showing obvious evidence of their hybrid origin being much paler on the flanks than a normal juvenile Dark bellied Brent and also showing a large white necklace of feathers around their neck as large as can be seen on some adult Dark bellied Brent Geese.

Adult Black Brant with a juvenile. Note on the latter the huge white necklace

of feathers around the neck and the very pale flanks

Adult Black Brant with two juveniles both showing the large white necklace

of feathers around the neck and  very pale flanks

So my day with its unwitting North American theme came to an end at just after 1pm and I luxuriated in the knowledge that I would be back home well before becoming entangled in the Friday evening rush hour traffic. Gosport decided to inflict one final indignity on me, for as I fled it took me over an hour to get clear due to major roadworks on the only road out of Gosport to the Motorway.