Today its Plovers and Terns 9th August 2021

Most days I go birding at my local Farmoor Reservoir. It's a familiar routine, one I welcome and to which I have grown accustomed. I feel at ease and know the place intimately now. 

At this time of year nature seems to embrace a slower pace as the late summer months of August and September come upon us. The expected trickle of returning migrant waders have been appearing at the reservoir, Dunlins,Turnstones and Ringed Plovers mainly  but last week there was the excitement of a Purple Sandpiper and a Wood Sandpiper, both highly unusual visitors. Frankly anything can turn up which is what keeps me coming back.

Today the rain abated mid morning and despite a brisk wind it turned into a warm, sunny and very pleasant day. A wander up the causeway brought the discovery of two Ringed Plovers, pitter pattering along the shoreline. Their manner of feeding is utterly distinctive, a few quick steps and then a downwards tilt of head and body to seize something, then head up, a seconds only glance around to re-assure all is well before the process is repeated.

The two Ringed Plovers

Both were adults, their sand coloured upperpart plumage showing distinct signs of wear with many frayed feathers. One still looked the part though, in splendidly marked plumage and compared to its companion appeared very bright.The other was duller with a less well marked bill but regardless the two of them kept close company, two small waders putting down here to refuel and rest and finding each other's company re-assuring in the atypical environment of an inland reservoir. 

I speculated as to where they might have come together. Could they be a returning pair, maintaining their bond while journeying south from their breeding grounds or had they met up on some far distant shore and carried on their journey together, maybe even met high in the sky as they travelled over a foreign land? Would they carry on their migration together or depart separately?Who knows? There are always questions.

The duller bird squatted on the sun warmed concrete, possibly tired and taking some rest, as and when it could. Its companion would keep an eye out and raise the alarm if necessary.

A large military aircraft from nearby Brize Norton came unusually low over the reservoir, its engines deafening, a training flight probably. The duller Ringed Plover cocked an eye in its direction but remained squatting on the ground reluctant to move.

The two birds resumed feeding but then seemed to lose the urge and in an exaggerated cautious walk moved up the concrete shelving and away from the water, to stand quietly, all primal urges abated for now. This was a brief interlude in which to embrace a slower pace to their lives, although it is still frenetic by our standards. 

The sight of these two migrants visibly chilling out was infectious and I too felt the sun on my arms and face, persuading me to sit quietly on the wave wall, lost in reflection as I watched the sun create a million sparkles on the waters of the reservoir, the sound of the gentle waves lapping the shoreline, soporific.

I enjoyed the moment but soon the plovers were moving off and I too roused myself and headed in the opposite direction. At the far end of the causeway  Common Terns have adopted the line of straw filled wire cages that act as filtration for the water being pumped from the River Thames into the reservoir.Their numbers are slowly building and today twenty five are perched on the wire mesh. Amongst them there are at least half a dozen juveniles, which idle away the hours on the cages, waiting while their parents go fishing for them on the reservoir.When a juvenile sees its parent approaching with a fish it sets up a beseeching, repetitive calling and the parent flies in to deliver the fish without settling. The process is over in seconds as the fish is transferred from one bill to another. The camera captures perfectly the grace of the adults flight as it delivers the fish and then rises and sweeps away to find yet another victim for its demanding offspring.

The juveniles are perfectly able to fish for themselves and regularly take feeding flights around this corner of the reservoir but if their parents are still willing to bring food then why make too much effort.The time will come, all too soon, when life will get a whole lot more perilous as the young tern's leave the reservoir and, having to fend for themselves, head for their winter home off the coast of Africa.

But for now the sun is shining, it's a warm wind that is blowing and food is plentiful .............................

Bempton for the Fifth and Final Time 7th August 2021

For days now Mark, my twitching buddy has been irritated that on our last visit he did not get the best of images of the Black browed Albatross at Bempton Cliffs in East Yorkshire . It did not help that many other photographers had been luckier and got truly exceptional pictures when they visited and he was determined to rectify the situation.

The problem is and continues to be so, the albatross can disappear for a day or more, so if you are unlucky, a four hour drive in our case can result in nothing but a frustrating day standing on the cliffs staring at Gannets.

In the end Mark could contain himself no longer and at literally a few hours notice texted me on Friday evening to say he and a birding colleague Andrew were going for the albatross at 1am in the morning, so for the fifth time in as many weeks I found myself in Mark's car, heading north through the night to Bempton.

We arrived in the reserve car park, on time, at 5am and by 5.30 had reached the Staple Newk lookout perched on top of the 300 foot cliffs, where we found just four other birders watching the dawn arise.

There was hardly time to ask about the albatross before there it was, right below us, milling around amongst the countless Gannets. One huge concern was now dispensed with.The albatross was here but the second major concern, whether it would stay to give us the close views we desired, remained unresolved.

It promptly disappeared behind a cliff and was gone. Forty five minutes of anxious anticipation and a beautiful sunrise later it finally re-appeared from around the cliff on which it had presumably been perched out of sight.

'There he is!' someone cried as the albatross swept into view. The following two hours are recorded in the images below. 

It was all over by 8.30am. After several bravura flypasts at regular intervals the albatross flew out to sea, landed distantly and commenced bathing.We suspected it would not return to the cliffs and this was confirmed as it was not seen for the rest of the day.

Of course Bempton being a major seabird breeding colony, there was still the forever changing spectacle of seabirds going about their lives. The Guillemots, Razorbills and Puffins have departed for the open sea and will only return next year but the Gannets and Kittiwakes remain.

The Gannets looked incredibly beautiful in the first rays of a sun that was just rising above the horizon, their white plumage given a suffusion of golden light as they stood on or flew around their clifftop home.They are also a dream to photograph as they adopt their ritualised breeding attitudes.

There were still many young Gannets of various ages sat on their perilous ledges, each with a parent guarding them whilst the other parent was away fishing. It will be a while yet before the colony grows silent when the last young birds head out on their maiden flights to spend the next two to three years off the coast of Africa. How many will survive the many perils that face them at sea and return to breed?

Many of the young Kittiwakes have now fledged and are trying out their wings on the wind currents sweeping over and around the cliffs. Soon they too will head out to sea for the winter and away from land. They have an innate mastery of the air and its capricious currents and circle around practicing landing on the cliff ledges before dropping back off the cliff and flying in endless circles with the Gannets. They look so smart and neat in their brand new plumage, a pristine combination of black, grey and white. Gulls have mean looking white or yellow eyes, that stare impassively but Kittiwakes have black eyes giving them what can only be described as a gentle face that is less troubling to a sensitive soul such as myself and makes them all the more appealing.

As an afterthought I can recommend Copperfields, a cafe in nearby Flamborough where we had a truly excellent breakfast. The ideal way to end our morning with the albatross.