Ducks de luxe 4th April 2015

I was looking forward to a pleasant lie in on Saturday after my adventures in Wales with Andy and before attending Badger and Lissie's wedding reception at Abingdon in the evening. Nothing too strenuous was in order, just pottering around doing the odd job here and there about the house. As I do every day I checked the Oxon Bird Log to see what was happening in the County and to see if the male Garganey was still at Stratfield Brake, near Kidlington. I thought I might go and see the Garganey if it was still present, possibly on Sunday.

Male Garganey in breeding plumage are beautiful birds, one of my favourites and it is always a thrill to see this long distance migratory duck wherever it may turn up and especially if it is in Oxfordshire. These last few days have seen a mass arrival of them over all of southern England and four, three males and a female even turned up today on a farm pond near Thame, just over the border in Buckinghamshire. 

Thoughts about Garganey were abruptly abandoned however, as another duck's name appeared on the computer screen as I accessed the Oxon Bird Log. Four Ring necked Ducks, not one but four had been found on Pit 60 at Standlake this very morning. Three males and one female. Unbelievable, and these had to be seen as it was an unprecedented record not only for the County but possibly nationally. BBC News Oxford even ran a feature on the occurence it was considered so exceptional.

I hastily abandoned the computer, threw everything that was required in the car and headed as fast as possible for Standlake. I called Badger who was getting married that very lunchtime and was thus unable to go and see them. He told me Terry was currently in the North Hide at Pit 60 and a quick call to Terry ascertained the ducks were still there.

Forty minutes later and I  was making the long walk down the track through the hedgerows to the North Hide. A Blackcap, my first of the year, sang from the tangle of elders and brambles beside the narrow muddy track. I entered the hide to discover Mark, Gnome and Terry all looking at the Ring necked Ducks which were well out on the lake to our right but nonetheless easily viewable. Any combination of black, white and grey is appealing and the drakes did not disappoint in this respect. The female, brown and drab in comparison, was the subject of much amorous attention from the males, in between bouts of sleeping, communal diving and feeding. The four of them kept close together, very much a group, as we watched them.

The four Ring necked Ducks on Pit 60

Male and female Ring necked Ducks
c Stephen Burch

A Great Crested Grebe caught a sizeable Perch, so big it looked as if it would give the grebe some problems in swallowing it. The grebe nevertheless held it firmly in its mandibles as it swam past us but seemed unsure just exactly what it was going to do with it. We never ascertained the outcome.

I remained in the hide for around an hour and chatted to Mark about the Garganey at Stratfield Brake. Mark had seen and photographed it a couple of days before and fired me up with enthusiasm when he told me how confiding it was and how close you could get to it. We resolved to go and have a look for it and shortly afterwards left the hide, together with Peter, making another thirty minute cross county drive to Stratfield Brake.

The weather, although promising to brighten up earlier in the morning, had now descended into a sullen, dull and grey day as we walked across the extensive waterlogged and muddy playing fields to the lake at the far end. 

The Lake at the bottom of Stratfield Brake Sports Ground near Kidlington

On getting there it soon became apparent that the Garganey was not in evidence, just a few Teal and Gadwall, a pair of Shoveler and the usual Mallard  were visible on the lake but Mark told us not to worry as when he had seen the Garganey before it had often been hidden in the thick juncus growing around the lake's edge nearest to us. 

We stood on an elevated mound and concentrated on the juncus but still could not see any sign of it. Then Mark thought he could just see the stripey white scapulars of the duck, hidden in the tangled green of the juncus, near to a pair of sleeping Mallard. We walked closer to the fence but  none of us could see anything at all. Doubts inevitably set in but eventually a small duck swam out from the juncus almost in front of us and there in all its glory was an absolutely superb male Garganey.

Even more satisfactory was its confiding nature as it showed only the mildest of concern about our close proximity. It swam around aimlessly for a few minutes just offshore, occasionally giving its very un-duck like dry, clicking call sounding very like a  cricket, before coming back towards us to feed along the base of the juncus, nuzzling its bill vigorously into the submerged stalks of vegetation in search of food and for a brief spell stopping for a preen and wing stretch.

Four Swallows flew over, their liquid, laconic flight action distinctive against the grey skies. They did not linger but flew steadily northwards, their destination unknown. My thoughts turned to Morocco and the edge of The Sahara where I had seen similar Swallows a couple of years ago, also moving northwards. These four Swallows had crossed The Sahara just a few days ago and now they were here, four survivors of all the millions of their kind that had migrated south last autumn, moving instinctively to their birthplace. The living and moving embodiment of the phenomenon of migration.

I returned to watching the Garganey, now feeding actively, working its way through the juncus, and rushes, often almost invisible in the close packed tangle of stems and spikey leaves. Its broad white eyestripe the only sign betraying its presence.

I finally left Mark on his own and made my way back to the car. It had been quite a morning.

Awayday in Cardiff 3rd April 2015

Little Bunting

Andy sent me a text on Thursday asking if I would like to accompany him on Good Friday to see the Little Bunting at Forest Farm Reserve on the outskirts of Cardiff. I had already been twice to see the bunting and had been quite taken with it, so accepted his invitation with alacrity.

We arranged to meet at the Travel Lodge by the A40 at Burford at 6.30am. What a difference a day makes. On Thursday the weather had been a sunny delight that lifted the spirits.Today, in complete contrast, it was wet, misty and grey.  That I guess is why weathermen or women will never be out of a job in Britain as the weather is just so changeable. As I descended the hill into Burford, a buff white shape, blurred by the gloom, floated across the road. A Barn Owl was still out hunting. Always a pleasure to see, this cheered me no end.

I met up with Andy and we duly headed west into steadily increasing rain.The forecast predicted this would pass by eight and things would improve from then on so we were not too downcast. Anyway the Little Bunting was viewable from a hide, so we would be sheltered and the rain would not affect us.

The Motorway in the rain was a miasma of red brake lights, flying spray and limited visibility. Over the Severn Bridge and we were into Wales. The rain if anything got worse as we headed for Cardiff but thankfully eased as we turned off the Motorway to wend our way through grey streets and down into the valley by the River Taff where the reserve was located.

It was deserted when we got there. Not a sign of life. Parking, we then walked the few yards to the hide and looking through the viewing slat immediately saw the Little Bunting. Unfortunately it was so close to the hide, only feet away, that it saw us and flew briefly to the little coppiced hedge adjacent to the hide and then departed completely.

Well at least Andy had his lifer but obviously he would like to see more of it than just a brief thirty seconds worth. I sprinkled some seed along the muddy margins of the flooded depression in front of the hide that the bunting favoured and we sat and waited. We waited and we waited but there was no sign of the Little Bunting returning. The rain did however return with a vengeance and drips of water fell in steady trickles across the viewing slat. A pair of Robins came and went, a female Reed Bunting tried the seed, a Pied Wagtail waded around in the puddles and a Carrion Crow's claws scratched noisily above us as it wandered around on the corrugated iron roof of the hide.

Female Reed Bunting

It was dark, dank and fairly miserable in the cold hide so I shut my eyes and dozed off, waking periodically to fiddle with my camera before slumping down again into my seat but there was no sign of the bunting anywhere. It eventually stopped raining and started to brighten outside. Andy kept checking and after a very long time, possibly well over an hour he relocated the bunting at the base of some bushes on the far side of the water filled depression. 

It did not remain there long before flying to the seed that I had spread out enticingly below the coppiced hedge close to the hide. Three other birders chose that very moment to join us and maybe due to their arrival the bunting flew off again but fortunately quickly returned. We were then treated to thirty minutes of grandstand views as it fed at point blank range below the hide. Cameras went into overdrive. Staccato bursts of camera clicks filled the empty spaces of the hide as we all recorded the moment.

Since I last saw the Little Bunting it had adopted much more of its breeding plumage, especially around its face which was now a rich chestnut  and the markings all over its body seemed that much stronger in colour and tone. It was now an even prettier bird than before.

Then, without warning it flew off again and we decided that we had seen more than enough to be happy with. So where next we wondered?  We got chatting to a local birder who had just arrived and he kindly gave us directions as to where to find a Bonaparte's Gull and also an Iceland Gull nearby, and then enquired whether we were going to look at the long staying Lesser Scaup. Andy became very interested on hearing this as he had never seen one! I knew about the scaup, having seen it on my last visit to Cardiff but did not think he needed to see one so had neglected to mention it. Tiredness was probably a contributory factor to my befuddled thinking. Still no harm was done and we made our way across Cardiff to Cardiff Bay Wetlands to look for it.

Cardiff  Bay Wetlands is a token gesture to compensate birders for the Cardiff Bay Barrage which has made a permanent lagoon out of what was a tidal area thus displacing thousands of wading birds from the formerly exposed tidal mudflats on which they fed. The wetlands has an air of neglect and with the usual human detritus of discarded drink cans, bottles and other junk lapping at its shores it strikes a depressing contrast with the conspicuous homage to Mammon that is provided by the huge expensive hotels, high tech buildings and yacht marina that surround it on three sides. 

Cardiff Bay Wetlands. This is the view from the the boardwalk, looking East

The Boardwalk looking out into Cardiff Bay

A boardwalk leads out from the shore and you can walk to the end to view back along the edge of the reeds. A flock of Tufted Ducks hangs about here, at the far end of the reed beds and usually contains the drake Lesser Scaup but some care is needed as there is also a hybrid occasionally present that looks very much like the real thing and can only be told apart by the larger amount of black on its bill tip. At first there was no sign of either but after a few minutes Andy located the 'proper' Lesser Scaup as it swam out from behind some reeds and so in the space of a morning had his second lifer. 

Drake Lesser Scaup
c Andy

Andy celebrating - now two lifers to the good

Not much else was in evidence. An escaped female Southern Pochard swam up to us. (Many thanks to Dave Appleton for identifying it - see comments below). Distressingly she had some fishing line dangling from her bill but it did not, for now anyway, seem to affect her welfare. Cetti's Warblers randomly belted out their song from the reeds and we saw just one, as usual diving rapidly into cover at our approach. A Mute Swan bristling with aggression and breeding hormones propelled itself in great thrusts of its black feet across the water and bullied a pair of Canada Geese around the murky waters below the boardwalk.

Escaped  female Southern Pochard
 note the fishing line dangling from the base of her bill

By far the most difficult task we set ourselves today was to try and find the Bonaparte's Gull which has been residing in and around Cardiff Bay for quite some time. We had been told the best place to try and locate it, if it was around, was by the barrage itself, so after a brief visit to Morrisons for some refreshments we drove the short distance there. It turned out to be virtually impossible to bird the place as basically it is a succession of marinas running from the barrage all the way back to the main road, the marinas containing eye wateringly expensive yachts and motor cruisers with similarly exclusive developments of housing and apartments lining the shore as far as one could see. 

Cardiff Bay

Any gulls that were present were far out in the middle of the bay and we really had no chance whatsoever of finding the Bonaparte's Gull in this monument to human extravagance, although Andy did manage to scope the first winter Iceland Gull which was having a wash with other large gulls just off the boardwalk at Cardiff Wetlands from whence we had just driven! All a bit frustrating.

Recognising a lost cause when I saw it I suggested to Andy we give the Bonaparte's Gull a miss and go back to the Cardiff Wetlands boardwalk to try and get a closer view of the Iceland Gull. I was armed with a loaf of sliced bread purchased from Morrisons so this might entice the Iceland Gull closer and you never know the Bonaparte's might just turn up for the free bread too. Back we went and repeated our walk out to the end of the boardwalk. Andy renewed his acquaintance with the Lesser Scaup, double checking it was the 'real' one, whilst I threw bread slices onto the water. The bread attracted some gulls but they were only Lesser Black backed Gulls and the inevitable Mallards. 

The aggressive Mute Swan was still huffing its belligerent way around the water but suddenly had his bluff called as he received a severe mugging from the Canada Goose gander and fled. Its always satisfying to see a bully get his come uppance. A pair of Great Crested Grebes were nesting in some reeds very close to the boardwalk and I watched them for some time. The female remained on the nest and on one occasion stood to reveal she was incubating three eggs on the flimsy nest platform. The male meanwhile was assiduously gathering rotting vegetative material to bring to the nest to increase its bulk. He did this by repeatedly diving under water and then bringing up the material in his bill and taking it to the female who arranged it on the nest. Once, he returned with a ridiculously long, thin reed stick but still managed with some persistence and difficulty to get it through the reeds to the nest.

There was however, no sign of the Iceland Gull so presumably it had returned to its favourite location which was a railway bridge over the River Taff. The local birder in the hide at Forest Farm had told us where this was so, as a finale, we resolved to give it a try and headed for Taffs Mead Embankment, a road running beside the river. This was only a ten minute drive from the Cardiff Wetlands and following the directions on my phone app. we soon came to the area, dominated by industrial and mega store warehouses on the far bank and the looming presence of  the Millenium Stadium just beyond the gull's favoured bridge. 

The favoured railway bridge with the Millenium Stadium behind it

It was not the most salubrious of areas but after purchasing two huge loaves of sliced bread from a local shop I rejoined Andy who had already located the Iceland Gull, sat safe and secure on its favourite bridge. 

Just below us a walkway descended down to the riverside and to a landing stage for the river taxi and this provided a perfect location to get right beside the river. Now matters could go either of two ways. The plan was to throw the bread slices on the water and see if this would entice the Iceland Gull down from the bridge. I threw the first few bread slices out onto the green opaque waters of the river. The result was instantaneous, spectacular and better than we could have hoped. The Iceland Gull launched itself from the bridge along with a horde of Herring Gulls and Lesser Black backed Gulls that were nesting on the flat roofs of the warehouses opposite. All the gulls arrived simultaneously, at great speed and landed in an unseemly scrum of feathers, thrashing wings, jabbing beaks and scrabbling legs to grab at the bread. 

The Iceland Gull although marginally less robust than the other gulls still managed to get its fair share of bread. 

I repeated the process with similar chaotic results until all the bread was finished. The Iceland Gull had by now stuffed itself silly with bread and disappeared downriver towards the sea. This was our cue to go, and with a full day of excellent birding and many images on our cameras to savour back at home we returned to the car and left for England.

To the Woods 31st March 2015

Male Lady Amherst's Pheasant in Northwest Yunnan Province China
c John and Jemi Holmes

Lady Amherst's Pheasant is normally found in southwest China and Burma but for longer than I can remember a self supporting feral population has existed in the southern parts of the UK. This reached a peak in the middle of the 20th century when 'hundreds' of feral individuals may have existed across both Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire but latterly the species has been confined to just one wood in Bedfordshire. Since its peak in population there has been a steady and inexorable decline, until the present where there may now be only one old male (possibly over twenty years old) left roaming the woods above the village of Lidlington in Bedfordshire, and once he has gone the species will be extinct in the wild in Britain. This in my opinion is a great shame.

The cause or causes of the decline are unclear but may have something to do with predation from an increased population of foxes and the decimation of the thick undergrowth, which is much favoured by the pheasant, as a result of burgeoning populations of deer, notably Muntjac and Roe Deer. 

The precise location of the wood in Bedfordshire has always been kept secret by those in the know and by one particular person who had a financial interest in maintaining its secrecy so he could charge to take birders to see the pheasants. No harm in that but all this has now come to an end as the site has recently been publicised by the Bedfordshire Bird Club due to the pressure of more and more birders wanting to see the pheasant before it is finally gone and sadly resulting in some of those birders indulging in irresponsible behaviour.

The reasons for publicising the site are not unreasonable, despite claims to the contrary from a certain person who shall remain nameless but had a vested interest in keeping the site secret, as the pheasant's wood and chosen habitat is enclosed and forms part of a highly sensitive and very security minded area called The Millbrook Proving Ground.  This is the testing track for General Motors and they are very keen on keeping the site secure and free from trespass. Unfortunately in their desire to see this elusive individual some birders have  trespassed more and more onto the site by crawling under the fence by the footpath and chased after the pheasant through the woods. I can recall more than one whispered conversation in the past with birders as they recounted tales of 'derring do', slipping under fences at dawn and catching glimpses of a Lady Amherst's Pheasant whilst dodging security patrols and cameras. By publicising the site it is hoped the majority of law abiding birders will police the irresponsible few by their presence and act as a deterrent to any further trespass and damage. We will see.

When I visited there were no more than eight birders, including me, who came throughout the day so pressures may not be that great although they are undoubtedly likely to increase as word about the site becomes more widely known.

Lady Amherst's Pheasant first arrived into Britain in 1829 when two specimens were sent here by Lady Amherst, the wife of the Governor General of Bengal. Unfortunately these soon died but further importations from 1869 onwards were more successful. The male is a spectacular looking bird with a cape of silver feathers on its black head, an enormously long barred tail, accounting for three quarters of the bird's length and a kaleidoscope of red, blue, black, white and yellow body plumage.

Like all wild pheasants and I do not include the millions of Common Pheasants released in this country every year by the shooting fraternity, it is very wary, shy, skulking and consequently extremely difficult to see, hence its desirability to keen birders.There is also the added incentive that it is shortly to become extinct in the wild in Britain.

So a wind blown Tuesday morning found me wending my way through post rush hour traffic to the village of Lidlington in Bedfordshire, about seventy miles distant from my home. Lidlington appears in the Domesday Book and is over a thousand years old, although many of its older buildings have been swamped by inbuilding and housing estates, thereby considerably lessening its ancient charm. I had detailed directions as to where to go and parking by the huge gothic church which is now defunct and undergoing a very expensive looking conversion to 'three bespoke houses', I made my way up through the primrose strewn church yard, with Jackdaws examining holes in the huge trees and joined the footpath on the other side, following it to almost the top of the hill.

As I ascended the wind got ever stronger as the elevation increased, becoming almost gale force with gusts blowing from the northwest as I found myself high on the Greensand Ridge above Lidlington. I came to a wooded area rising up the slope on my left guarded by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire. 

The footpath running up the hill beside the fenced off wooded area on the right

Slightly further up I encountered two huddled figures standing and looking through the fence at a wide grassy ride that ran up and away at right angles from the fence and through the wood. This was obviously the place.

The ride occasionally visited by the Lady Amherst's Pheasant.
It appeared at the very top of the ride when I saw it

I got chatting to the two birders who were from London and discovered that they had been there for over an hour already but had not seen anything. They also told me they had been here on Sunday morning for four hours and again had seen nothing. They pointed out an area near the top of the ride on the left that had obviously been baited with seed and was currently being visited by Grey Squirrels, Blackbirds and Great Tits. A male Common Pheasant wandered down from the top of the ride to the seed but did not stay long.

The wind howled constantly around us and roared through the bare branches of the mature trees above but it was still relatively mild when the sun shone. At our elevation, looking back I could see vast distances over Marston Vale and the nearby Brogborough Lake was a slash of blue water amongst the shades of green and brown.

Another birder came up the hill and joined us after an hour. We got talking to him. He too had been on Sunday but in the afternoon and he too had seen nothing for the hours he had spent here. We stood, buffeted by the  constant blasts of wind and the occasional short hail shower but still there was no sign of our exotic target. Stoically we waited. The wind was, if anything getting even stronger now but I was totally insulated in my goose down padded jacket. I noticed one of the London birders was shivering as the wind chill and standing still for hours took effect. Time passed slowly, during which another group of five birders came up the footpath but soon lost interest and sat on a bank further up and had their lunch before departing.

Another hour and a quarter passed. The two London birders decided to leave and walked disconsolately down the hill. Now it was just the two of us holding out. A minute later at 1220, there was some action at  the far end of the ride as a pheasant with an enormous tail blown vertical by the following wind whizzed across the ride. A flash of silver and white and it was gone into the brambles on the other side. 'That was it!' we exclaimed. Hardly the best view but it was definitely the Lady Amherst's Pheasant. We had achieved our initial objective after three hours of patient waiting but it would be nice to see it more clearly. My fellow birder looked down the hill and signalled to the departing birders about the pheasant's  sudden appearance. They turned and wearily came back and cursed their luck. One or two more minutes before departing and they too would have seen it. They stood and waited for another thirty or so minutes but the pheasant did not return. Reluctantly they left as they had other commitments. I felt for them. Four hours on both Sunday and today, and all for nothing. My new found birding colleague went for a walk further up the hill following the footpath to check if there were any other likely or possible viewpoints.

Shortly after he had left a four wheel drive vehicle came up the hill on the other side of the fence. Security. The driver in a 'high vis' jacket stopped and got out, enquiring if I had seen the pheasant? I replied 'Yes, for all of two seconds!'  We got chatting and he told me how he sees the pheasant regularly on his patrols and on occasions gets very close to it, so much so he has even managed to video it. He told me he was a birder, but only in a mild way and recounted how the pheasants used to be more numerous and would sometimes get run over by speeding vehicles on the test track.

I told him about the loose fencing that was being used by unscrupulous birders and he went away to get some wire, returning much later to fix the problem.

Security man fixing the fence

Hopefully this will deter any further incursions into the wood by over enthusiastic birders and save any unfortunate confrontations and disturbance to the pheasant.

My birding colleague returned, advising that there was nothing further up that looked likely to be better than where we were at the moment. We stood looking up the ride, quietly chatting and comparing twitches we had been on. He was relatively local, coming from nearby Luton. I scanned the ride with my bins for the umpteenth time. A black and silver  head appeared at the top of the ride. 'There it is again!' I whispered and for about six seconds a vision of feathered loveliness was before us. A silver hood scaled with black edges, a flash of red and yellow, black and white underparts and an enormously long grey barred tail was all that I managed to assimilate and then it was gone.

We shook hands, smiles all round, sharing this moment and the tension abated.This had been a much better view and we now felt as if we had seen the pheasant properly. To be truthful I am not sure what I had expected. All previous reports had cautioned about being over optimistic and that each sighting lasted only seconds, although there have been exceptions where the views have been more prolonged and consequently more satisfactory, but I was happy with what I had achieved as was my new found colleague.

Time wore on but there was to be no repeat appearance. A female Common Pheasant came to the seed and spent a very long time cautiously feeding at the edge of the ride just out of cover of the brambles.

I think the wind had quite a lot of bearing on the Lady Amherst's behaviour. It was blowing from behind us and up the ride so we figured the pheasant would prefer the lee side of the hill which was sheltered from the wind but out of bounds and out of sight from our vantage point on the footpath.

Not to worry. I had seen my first and possibly the last wild Lady Amherst's Pheasant in Great Britain.