Hornie in Suffolk 16th December 2012

A Hornemann's Arctic Redpoll has been residing for the last week or so on the shingle beach and surrounds at the southern side of the small town of Aldeburgh in Suffolk. This, the larger of the two subspecies of Arctic Redpoll is also called Greenland Redpoll and in America it goes by the name Hoary Redpoll but to me Hornemann's sounds much more exotic. They are normally found in Canada and Greenland and rarely found in Britain, although this year one had been seen earlier in Norfolk but only stayed for a day. If they are found in Britain it is usually in Shetland or some other distant and hard to reach location. They are also larger than any other species of  redpoll, incredibly attractive and charismatic, sometimes called 'snowballs' due to the large amount of white in their plumage. In the field they do indeed appear very pale. 

The other subspecies of Arctic Redpoll is called Coue's Arctic Redpoll and is much smaller but again very charismatic and with a similarly large amount of white in the plumage. They are seen slightly more often in Britain but are still rare and just as sought after by birders. I recall seeing one plus a Mealy Redpoll and a Lesser Redpoll, all in the same Alder tree, at Titchwell RSPB some years ago, which gave a really good opportunity to study the differences in the three species, Arctic, Mealy and Lesser, the latter being our native breeding species of redpoll. 

I had arranged with Badger to collect him from Kidlington at 9am on Sunday to drive to Aldeburgh to see the Hornemann's Arctic Redpoll. The late start on Sunday was planned due to Badger having an appointment with large amounts of liquid refreshment on Saturday night. I was therefore hardly surprised  to get a text from him early on Saturday evening advising that Christmas shopping had to take precedence on Sunday along with an anticipated hangover and he would not be coming. Long drives can be lonely and sometimes I prefer it that way but this time I thought someone to chat to and share the experience would be the better option so I called Keith Clack. Clackers is always good company with no shortage of stories and reminiscences of past birding glories. 

So it was that I collected him from his home in Witney at 7am and we set off into the breaking dawn for the two hundred mile trip to the Suffolk coast. We exchanged stories about twitches past, present and yet to come. How appropriate for this time of year as I recalled 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens although Dicken's tale involved ghosts of past, present and future rather than birds. We also both agreed that for us, on twitches like this, it was as much about the adventure and thrill of disappearing to far flung places in the middle of the night at a moments notice, as that of actually seeing the bird. Kindred spirits indeed. 

We made really good time on comparatively empty roads and were in Aldeburgh by 9.30am. Aldeburgh is a pretty seaside town and has long ago cast off it's simple fishing origins to become a trendy place for media types and others who make lots of money in London. The last time I was here was to see an Ivory Gull at the end of 1999 which departed on the night of New Year's Eve 2000, sent on it's way by a fusillade of fireworks heralding the Millenium celebrations. 

However, going back even further into the mists of time Aldeburgh will always live in my memory as the place where I had the honour to sing, as a fourteen year old choirboy, in the world famous Aldeburgh Festival, in those days still held in the Church, and to meet the world renowned composer who founded the festival, Benjamin Britten. I also got to see and hear Bitterns for the first time as we were accommodated in a very grand house on Oulton Broad! 

After asking directions from a very nice, cheery lady on the north side of Aldeburgh we were directed to the location of the redpoll which turned out to be on the south side of the town near the Martello Tower, a local landmark. We drove through the pretty town centre and out towards the boatyards by the river mouth. The birders on the raised bank, silhouetted on the skyline, then  gave the game away.

Here we are Clackers. Let's go. 

We drove across an area of  waste ground weaving our way round numerous water filled potholes. The Audi was safely parked in a long line of birders cars and we got ourselves together. We left the scopes in the car as the redpoll could be approached to within a few feet. I just took bins and camera as did Clackers. We walked up the ramp onto the raised bank which was presumably a sea defence and commenced a short walk to join the group of birders looking intently down the landward side of the bank into the boatyard. 

When we got there we found the redpoll was feeding, at a little distance, on the ground in the boatyard with a Pied Wagtail for company. Its paleness was very apparent against the wet ground and even as we watched, it  flew much closer to us and settled on a fence post just at the bottom of the bank, showing itself in all it's glory.Whilst taking numerous images with my trusty Canon camera I noted how comparatively large it was and it's forked tail struck me as quite long. The head was a combination of grey and white with a gentle suffusion of buff and a splash of scarlet on the forecrown, set off by a small, buttercup yellow bill with black surrounds. Quite beautiful. The bill was tiny almost disappearing into the feathers and appearing disproportionately small in comparison to the head. The rest of the upperparts were a combination of dark grey and white streaks with two prominent pale wing bars. The underparts were snow white with just a few dark streaks on the flanks whilst the rump was pure, unsullied white and when the white feathers were fluffed up it did indeed appear like a miniature snowball. 

The arrival of this vision of beauty on the fence post prompted a staccato volley of continuous clicks as camera shutters went into fast mode and recorded the moment. I was in there with the best of them and obligingly the redpoll just sat  for some considerable time on the fence post as if to ensure everyone managed to get it's picture. Eventually it dropped to the ground in front of the fence just a few feet from it's assembled and may I say impeccably behaved audience. 

It set about demolishing the brown stems of some withered Yellow horned Poppy, extracting the small black seeds from within the opened stems. It's bill may appear to be small but it was quite a tool. It was surprisingly robust in splitting open the stems, twisting and tugging them with dexterity, pulling off the outer casing of the stem, tossing bits aside and creating an effect on the stem similar to that of a can being opened. We watched and we watched, just enjoying these precious moments. 

Clackers did a bit of hard core twitcher spotting,  informing me in hushed tones 

That's Richard Bonsor over there with the furry boots. See that guy with the long hair? I don't know his name but he is a seriously keen twitcher". 

Refreshingly, there also appeared to be some normal human beings amongst us, even one young lad sketching the bird on an artist's notepad. A very rare sight these days. 

The redpoll would take short flights along the bank every so often to be followed by its admirers and re-located feeding on the poppy seeds. It showed virtually no alarm at the presence of so many birders and photographers looking down from almost point blank range. Indeed it's 'tameness' has been a notable feature of it's stay, as it was with the one in Norfolk. I do hope it's confiding nature and lack of fear will not be it's undoing. There has already been one close encounter with a Sparrowhawk but the continued presence of birders may be enough to deter that threat for the time being at least. 

So time passed and after an hour we decided to head off. It was just approaching 11am. 

Just one last look Clackers I pleaded. 

OK by me, not  a problem he replied. 

We took one last lingering look with the redpoll still hard at it in the middle of a tangle of poppy stems. We walked slowly back to the car noting a passing Red throated Diver high over the cold, grey sea.

Fancy some breakfast? 

Good idea. There must be somewhere in Aldeburgh. 

There was. Munchies - where without fear of exaggeration I can say that the breakfast was one of the best I have had. 

No dissent from Clackers either. 

Happy Christmas everyone.

Clackers

Well Worth Seeing 9th December 2012

Sunday morning, it is ten o' clock and I am sitting quietly with my wife in Oxford Station awaiting a train to London to take us to meet her brother and relatives, exchange christmas presents and have a really nice convivial meal in a trendy pub in Islington. I sip my tea and we chat about this and that. My Blackberry alerts me to a text message. I say to my wife jokingly 

I bet this is Badger telling me about a mega. 

Two years ago I was in exactly the same location with my wife, again catching a train to London  and received a text from Badger advising me that there was a Citrine Wagtail at Farmoor. Heroically I resisted that time and carried on to London with my wife, reconciling myself that I could go and see the wagtail the very next day. As those of us who turned up bright and eager the next day know, it had gone. The text this time had just three words. 

Falcated Duck Farmoor. 

I can't believe it. I said to my wife 

What? she enquired. 

There is a Falcated Duck at Farmoor'. 

A what? 

A Falcated Duck. It's normally found in Asia and kind of a mega if it's a wild one. 

Then you had better go and see it. 

Pardon?

It's alright, I quite understand. It's OK. Really it is 

Are you sure? What's in that tea? I gasped

I can explain to the relatives, they think it is a hoot anyway what you get up to with your birding.

She smiled. I was in a dilemna. I could invoke the gods of birding and wait until tomorrow in the hope it would still be around. I hummed and haaahed and drank more tea. I was in shock both from the news and even more from my wife's conciliatory and supportive encouragement of my obsessive birding. I know she relishes telling her friends about my ever more extreme birding behaviour and exploits and this one surely would go down in the annals. 

Go on dear you must go 

I played the game and reluctantly said

Oh alright then. 

How about that though for loving support. Lucky or what?  

The next problem was the ticket I had just bought from First Great Western but again my wife advised me that I could get an immediate refund by going to the window and asking for a refund on the ticket I had just purchased. I joined a long queue courtesy of First Great Western who at this peak time had contrived to have only one staff member dispensing tickets. At last I got to the window and got my money back. A hasty farewell to my wife promising to pick her up from the station when she returned in the evening. Let's face it I would promise anything now! 

I set off hotfoot back to the car park and headed for Farmoor. The next logistical obstacles were that I had no optics and was trendily dressed in black lightweight clothes for London socialising not traipsing around the concrete wastes of Farmoor. A hurried call to Badger and he willingly agreed I could borrow his scope to view the duck when I got there. As for the clothing well we would just have to get on with it. It was a nice duck so smart casual seemed appropriate. 

While all this was going through my mind I pressed down on the accelerator of the Audi as we came up to the Botley roundabout, crossing over the A34. There was a lurch and a loud bang from under the bonnet, German technology was instantaneously in ruin and my car morphed into "Vorsprung without the technik," stuttering and spluttering and barely moving. I managed to get the crippled car across the roundabout at a very slow pace and sought sanctuary in a layby. It sounded like the turbo had gone. Serious money, very serious money would be required to fix this but even worse there was now no prospect of getting to see the duck although frustratingly I was within just a few miles of Farmoor Reservoir. I called Badger and optimistically told him there would be a delay in my arrival. A phone call to the RAC and miraculously I had only a forty five minute wait before  rescue and potential salvation arrived. 

What's the problem mate?

 The turbo's gone, I think. 

Describe to me what happened. 

I told him. 

I know what's wrong. It's not the turbo, it's just a pipe to the turbo that has come adrift". 

A technological explanation that went clear over my head was then delivered. 

I must confess I was not really listening but just rejoicing about the fact I would not be parting with thousands of pounds for a new turbo and now was back with a good chance of seeing the duck 

I will have you on your way in half an hour. 

A miracle. This truly was the Saviour. I did not complicate things by telling him about the duck. I doubt he would understand although I am sure he has met more than his fair share of eccentrics in his line of work. My new found hero proceeded to re-attach the errant pipe and I was on my way with an Audi now restored to smooth running technology. 

Vorsprung durch technik lives again. 

I drove cautiously, as instructed by the RAC man, to Farmoor, parked the car and headed apace up the Causeway. I reconciled myself to the immediate invocation of Farmoor's Law of Birding which every Oxonbirder knows is 'The more desired and rare a species the further will it be from the start of the Causeway.' Invariably this means it will be right at the other end of the Causeway and possibly beyond. I joined Oxonbird's finest clustered around their scopes, feeling a little conspicuous in my men in black ensemble. Clackers hoved into view and kindly let me look through his scope. Sighs of relief as the beautiful Falcated Duck, a drake in full and glorious plumage filled the scope. After all I had experienced this morning I just revelled in and marvelled at, amongst other things, it's glossy green head with purple brown forehead and crown, the beautifully vermiculated breast and outrageously long tertials drooping over its hind end. It really was a beauty. The last time I had seen this species was in China and in not too dissimilar environs to Farmoor, although in China it was a salt lagoon rather than a reservoir. 

The bird today stayed well out on the reservoir and appeared none too tame, in fact positively wary. 

Wild or an escape? Who knows but well worth seeing just for it's sheer beauty. No doubt speculation will rage about the provenance of this bird. Birdforum will go into overdrive and everyone will have an opinion. Myself? Well it is wary, there has been an influx of both Mallard, Pochard and Tufted Ducks onto Farmoor Reservoir very recently and it is unringed. Also why would anyone in their right mind allow such a desirable duck to be unpinioned? The BBRC (British Birds Records Committee) will have less idea than those of us that have seen it so really it is up to each and every birder to decide for themselves what they want to do and whether to include it on their list. We are a funny lot seemingly desiring an august body such as the BBRC  to tell us whether it is a genuine wild bird or not based on secondhand reports submitted by us. When they come up with their verdict which is usually negative or equivocal we then complain if it is not accepted as a wild bird. Just make up your own mind and go see it anyway, as if it is an escape it is now in the wild and it is a beautiful duck not swimming around in an enclosure .

I had another eyeful through Badger's scope and then headed back to the car and drove home to Kingham, collected my optics and camera and retraced my route back to Farmoor for a second dose of duck drooling. Another long walk up the Causeway and now it was even further away in the furthest corner and the wind was getting really strong from the north. Very few people were around, and in fact by the time I got to where the duck was, there was no one. I was a lone birder enjoying this fantastic specimen all to myself. I took lots of images as it swam closer but never very close. It stayed on it's own a lot of the time but seemed to prefer at times to keep in the proximity of the numerous Mallards, even displaying a couple of times to a female Mallard. As the afternoon wore on I was joined by various other Oxonbirders and strangers not encountered before. Paul and Vicky joined me, a breathless Paul telling me he had run round the reservoir to get here. I gave him and Vicky free rein of my scope. We watched it for another half an hour and then went to find the Slavonian Grebe and the three Greater Scaup in amongst the Tufted Duck flock. It had been quite a day for a variety of reasons and I was feeling both emotionally and physically drained. 

I drove back to Oxford Station. My wife's train from London was delayed by an hour but I was happy to wait. It was the least I could do. 

Staying Local 8th December 2012

Foxholes BBOWT Reserve is very close to my home, not more than seven minutes away in the car. Somewhat shamefaced I have to say that I do not visit it as often as I should. Today I decided to pay it a visit on a day of glorious sunshine and still, calm conditions. It is mainly woodland and fairly damp woodland at that, even more so at the moment due to the excess of rain we have had lately. 

The River Evenlode flows by on it's northern boundary and the damp habitat looks prime for both Willow Tit and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. I have been lucky enough to record the former from here but not for some years now and reluctantly I have grown to accept they are now gone. Although the habitat also looks perfect for Lesser Spotted Woodpecker I have never heard or seen them here although I know they have been present in the past. Today my focus was to try and see if any Woodcock had taken up residence. They usually frequent the bracken and brambles at the highest part of the reserve but it normally requires a prolonged cold spell to bring them in. There were up to fourteen during last winter's cold weather but today I drew a blank. No matter, there was plenty more to keep me happy.

Wandering up the track from the tiny car park I checked the feeders in the garden of the isolated bungalow beside the track and it was not long before my first Marsh Tit appeared in the company of other tits and Chaffinches. Carrying on up through the open woods which are mainly Beech and Oak I walked on a bed of golden brown leaves looking up at all the bat boxes attached to the trees, until I reached the Woodcock spot.

No Woodcocks today but a charming mixed flock of Long tailed Tits, Marsh Tit, Great Tit, Blue Tit, Goldcrests and two Tree Creepers were feeding in the silver birches and hazel understorey. The Goldcrests were particularly active, their thin, shrill calls ringing through the woods and their tiny bodies silhouetted  against an azure sky as they moved restlessly through the canopy. As I watched, two came lower and lower, finally alighting on the bole of an Oak. They were very close to each other and now not feeding and I could see it was a male courting a female. His crest glowed orange and red in the gloom of the wood as he raised it to show its full effect. The female's crest was just bright yellow with none of the red. They chased each other around the tree or at least the male chased the female who in typical fashion showed no apparent interest but still made sure she did not stray too far from the attentions of the male. 

Eventually they flew off through the wood and were lost to view. I carried on, finding some Redwings feeding on a large holly in the company of Blackbirds and a Mistle Thrush. The Redwings would fly out and hovering, seize a holly berry from the tip of a holly branch and retreat back into the centre of the tree. A Muntjac barked deeper in  the wood. Both Muntjac and Roe Deer are relatively common here and I often encounter them away from the main paths through the wood.The reserve is also famed for its numerous species of fungi. It was bit too late now for most but I did find an intriguing collection of bracket fungi growing like satellite dishes high up on the trunk of a dead Silver Birch. 

Nuthatches clear whistling notes rang through the woods and a loud tapping betrayed the presence of a Great Spotted Woodpecker. I do occasionally find good birds here on my winter visits such as Mealy Redpoll, Lesser Redpoll, Common Crossbill and of course Woodcock. Today there was no such excitement but just the pleasure of watching woodland birds in a peaceful and deserted wood. As I walked back to the car two Ravens flew overhead, cronking in conversation and disappeared southwards over the wood and a female Sparrowhawk did a 'red arrow' impression banking at speed through the tree trunks  

Something in the City 1st December 2012

Saturday morning found me donating excessive amounts of money to Oxford City Council to park just up the road from St Giles Churchyard. This was no philanthropic gesture on my part but rather the quickest and easiest way to see the ever increasing flock of Waxwings that had been gracing the churchyard for the last few days. 

St Giles Church & Churchyard

St Giles main thoroughfare with the Waxwing flock

just visible at the top of the Plane tree on the left

For once, a flock of Waxwings had chosen a more picturesque location for their attention although the churchyard was at the apex of two very busy roads running into St Giles, almost in the heart of the City. The weather was cold and sunny but the Yews in the churchyard had a sobering effect, casting dark shadows on the frosted path through the churchyard. I saw two Waxwings almost immediately perched on high at the very topmost tip of one of the large Plane trees that grow alongside St Giles.

They flew off rapidly over the city spires and were gone. I was not concerned as this was typical Waxwing behaviour and I knew they would soon return, hopefully with the rest of the flock that had been reported in the preceding days. I waited quietly on a bench in the churchyard and after twenty minutes or so the distinctive silhouette of a Waxwing flock materialised in one of the Plane Trees further down St Giles. 

Buses, joggers, shoppers and endless cars passed below them. In typical Waxwing fashion they remained on their lofty perches trilling away, seemingly disinterested in descending to any berry bearing tree in the churchyard. In front of me was a particularly profusely berry laden tree that presumably was in their sights. After a short wait, two Waxwings bolder than the rest descended onto the berry tree, quickly followed by others until the whole flock was in the tree. Pandemonium, as in a frenzy of feeding they tore the berries off the tree and swallowed them as fast as they could. Five minutes and it was all over as their innate nervousness took precedence over the need for nourishment and they returned to the top of the Plane Tree. I almost got indigestion watching them, they ate so fast. No table manners or decorum here but every bird for itself. Another spell of loafing in the trees and then down they came again but this time onto the yews and again in a frenzied whirl of yellow, tawny and chestnut feathers the whole flock guzzled yew berries as fast as they could and then off they flew again. They are almost like a swarm as they  feed closely together on the same bush, flopping clumsily and heedlessly, with open wings, around the dark green yew, hanging and contorting themselves upwards and downwards to get at the berries.

This was their regular pattern of feeding for the two hours I was there and they shared the yews with Redwings, Blackbirds and a pair of Mistle Thrushes, also attracted by the berries. Watching the Waxwing flock through my bins it was apparent that most were adults

Redwing

I celebrated my good fortune with a hot chocolate from one of three Delicatessens across the road before my parking time ran out. £4.00 for two hours. Outrageous. If there were no Waxwings I would be incensed but the encounter with twenty eight of these beauties made it all worthwhile