Stint Seconds 7th September 2014

A gloriously warm and sunny afternoon tempted me back to Farmoor for another photo session with the juvenile Little Stint. Unlike yesterday the light was infinitely better although it was tricky taking photos as the sun was shining almost directly across the reservoir, reflecting off the water and onto the concrete where the Little Stint was feeding. Nevertheless I did my best.

I expected the reservoir to be heaving with people on such a nice day but was pleasantly surprised to find comparatively few people except around the yacht club where all the outside tables were occupied with yachting folk having an alfresco lunch and who could blame them.

I made my way to the Causeway expecting to have to walk to the far end like yesterday but was pleasantly surprised when the only other birder present, walking the Causeway a few metres ahead of me indicated that the Little Stint was now feeding on the water's edge only a few hundred metres or so from the beginning of the Causeway, thus allowing me to avoid a long and tiring walk to the far end. Those of you who know Farmoor will realise how fortuitous this is as there seems some unwritten law that all rare or unusual birds visiting Farmoor invariably end up at the most distant parts of the reservoir. Perhaps it's the yachts that scare them off.

The Little Stint, confiding and trusting did not have any such fears and allowed a similar close approach to yesterday, and we are talking literally down to a few metres. Myself and the other birder just sat on the wave wall and waited for it to walk below us along the water's edge, allowing us to take as many photos as we wished. Like yesterday the stint spent most of its time feeding but on at least three occasions walked up the sloping concrete away from the water's edge to rest, fiddle around with its feathers and have a good scratch. I noticed that its troublesome right eye now appears to be back to normal so all is well for its onward migration

Having walked up the sloping concrete away from the water the stint basked in the sun but it was so hot on the exposed concrete that it had to open its bill to cool itself and on one comical occasion the concrete was obviously too hot for it to stand on comfortably whereby it commenced hopping from one leg to the other to alleviate the inconvenience. In the end it sat down in a presumably cool crack in the concrete still with its bill open to cool itself and to give its burning feet a break.

A couple of other birders arrived to take some photos and some curious passers by stopped to enquire what we were looking at. My good friends Paul and Vicky Wren joined me and we had a long chat. It was all very pleasant as the sun shone, the air was still and the sky blue as we all sat on or stood by the wave wall basking in the welcome warmth of a late summer and watched the Little Stint. What could be better?

Seen on its own without, say a Dunlin to compare it with, it is hard to realise just how small a Little Stint is. The only way, as Paul pointed out, to get a true idea of its minute size was to compare it to the profusion of discarded gull feathers lying around. It really is very small

It was the Costa Del Causeway just for a day, just for this afternoon and I reflected that soon enough this late summer warmth would be just a memory whilst the Little Stint if it survives the many perils that beset it in the wild will at least spend the winter months in the continuous sun and warmth of Africa.

I spent another two happy and fulfilling hours with this little bird and it did not seem enough. When, if ever I wonder, will such a close encounter happen again?

A Little Stint at Farmoor 6th September 2014

Saturday morning dawned still and misty, almost autumnal. I lay in bed going through the old 'shall I shan't I' routine of whether to rouse myself and go birding. This last week has not been the greatest in my life with some bad news about a member of my family causing me much heartache but life goes on and after an initial emotional wobble I am managing to find my equilibrium again and my head has stopped spinning.

I left the house at around eight this morning which is late for me and drove with not much purpose towards Otmoor but on arriving in the car park I just sat there and realised I really did not have any enthusiasm for the place. I only recognised one vehicle in the car park anyway and today I really wanted the company of familiar faces to take my mind off my troubles, so without turning the Audi's engine off I reversed and drove off to Farmoor where I knew there would be some friendly faces and some waders to cheer me and provide some interest. A report of a Little Stint from here last night was particularly enticing.

Farmoor Reservoir at 9.30am was glassy still with a grey misty haze pervading the air. The yachtsmen launching their craft were complaining at the lack of wind as I ventured up the all too familiar causeway between the two reservoir basins. I noticed that Farmoor One, the smaller basin, was now filling up again with water but conversely the larger Farmoor Two had a markedly lower water level with an enticing muddy periphery at the water's edge which surely would prove irresistible to passing waders and so it proved. The lowered water levels (Thames Water are sampling for some perceived pollution) have attracted a good number of wader species over the last month or so and today there were three juvenile Dunlin and two juvenile Ringed Plovers gracing the shoreline along the causeway.

Not exactly world shattering news but this is a pretty good wader turnout for Farmoor and I noticed the waders had transferred their allegiance from Farmoor One to presumably the now more attractive, from a wader's point of view, Farmoor Two but there was no sign of the Little Stint.

I met Dai halfway up the causeway who told me the Little Stint was over on the southwest bank at the end of Farmoor Two. We were joined by Winston Churchill. No, not that one but another birder with the same name as his famous but long deceased namesake.

Through my bins I could see Andy standing morosely looking over where the stint was meant to be and called him on my phone but he gave me the unwelcome news that the Little Stint had been flushed by an over eager photographer and no one knew where it had gone. This was a bit depressing but joining up with Andy and Badger I discussed the situation and in the end  volunteered to walk around Farmoor Two, unsuccessfully as it transpired, looking for the missing stint while Andy and Badger took the less energetic option of patrolling the causeway.

It takes around thirty minutes to walk the circumference of Farmoor Two and as usual there was little to enliven matters, just a group of five Common Sandpipers calling in shrill and quavering alarm at my approach and flickering on stiff wings, low out over the glass smooth waters to settle back on the reservoir edge far behind me.  Of all the waders that arrive at Farmoor they are by far the wariest, rarely allowing anything resembling a close approach and flying at the slightest hint of perceived danger. 

Further along I came across the juvenile Black tailed Godwit which has been here for days now and was still gobbling molluscs and blood worms as fast as it could, leggily wading through the shallows at the exposed concrete apron's edge.

I rejoined Andy and Badger on the causeway. In my absence they had been joined by Dave who having arrived at the reservoir around seven am had been lucky enough to see the Little Stint. We decided to walk round Farmoor One in case the stint had flown there but had no luck.  Dave spotted a Yellow Wagtail on the Valve Tower roof and irrepressible Pied Wagtails, in all states of moulting plumage cheerily flew along the concrete edge at our approach or disappeared, calling loudly, into the works buildings. Coot numbers are now building up and as ever they bicker and fight amongst themselves and with the other waterfowl, venting their frustration and aggression with explosive nasal calls. Three Little Grebes were a sure sign that autumn will soon be upon us. A Grey Wagtail in bounding flight flew up from the settling beds and away over our heads.

Further round a flash of black and white alerted us to the presence of a Northern Wheatear bouncing along the retaining wall and which then played a game of grandmother's footsteps  with Badger who was trying to take some video of it. No sooner did he get close enough than the wheatear would fly off to land out of range further along the wall. This went on half way round the reservoir and in the end the wheatear vanished. Canada Geese were festooned all around the concrete sides, honking in complaint and warning at our approach and some even commenced plunge diving in some sort of goosey frenzy. Their numbers at the moment are truly incredible. I counted no less than seven hundred and one a few days ago and it looked like similar numbers were again here today.

As we wandered on Andy received a call from Terry to tell him the stint was back! It was in the same place it had been earlier and was already besieged by photographers again trying to get as close as possible. It really is not necessary to try and literally walk up to it and this kind of behaviour had already caused it to fly off once already but what can you do? It's a waste of time remonstrating with the offenders as they take no notice and it just upsets and ruins your day. Modern birding means everyone seems to have a camera now so you just have to accept that this kind of thing is going to happen with ever increasing frequency.

We walked up to where the Little Stint was feeding, a tiny blob by the water's edge but unlike the photographers who had descended onto the concrete apron to get as close as possible we remained on the path by the wave wall and viewed it from there.

It was perfectly adequate to take our pictures from there and also had the benefit that we could follow the bird as it moved along the water's edge whereas the 'trespassing' photographers had to remain where they were, constrained from moving and possibly scaring the bird by our not always benign presence above them.

Little Stints are avian gems. Tiny and incredibly cute waders, being no more than 13cm in size which is slightly smaller than a House Sparrow. They are prodigious travellers, breeding in the high Arctic and Siberia and mainly wintering in Africa south of the Sahara although occasionally a few try to survive the winter here in Britain and  northern mainland Europe. Like many of the juvenile waders that pass through Farmoor this individual was very confiding provided it was approached with care and there were no sudden movements from its admirers or passers by. It fed like all the waders here on mainly blood worms and other invertebrates which it extracted from the muddy ooze by the water's edge, pattering on clockwork black legs and feet over the feather scattered mud. 

It fed methodically, thoroughly examining every bit of mud as it probed with its stubby bill and frequently stretched its wings as it progressed. I noticed that its right eye seemed to be slightly closed as if it had suffered some minor mishap but it did not appear to impair the stint in anyway.

By now I was, along with Andy, almost prostrate along the path in an attempt to conceal my human outline from the stint, resting my camera on the low wave wall and getting point blank images of the stint to my heart's content as it fed unconcernedly just a few metres away from us. This carried on for some time but then the stint stopped feeding and walked purposefully up the concrete towards us, coming ever closer before stopping and commencing to preen, then fluffing up its breast feathers it stood on one leg and even at one stage almost went to sleep. The very essence of stint contentment. What length of journey had brought it to here? How long had it been flying searching for a suitable place to re-energise and rest?

It stood there for some ten minutes, taking a break before once more it literally shook its feathers, stretched its wings and descended to the water's edge to continue its now familiar routine of feeding. 

Once it took alarm and flew, calling a sharp pik pik but after a couple of circuits out over the water it landed back again a few metres further along the edge of the reservoir.

The sun came out and shone on its chestnut fringed upperpart feathers with the distinctive white braces of its juvenile plumage clearly visible, running down each side of the mantle, . 

It has been a long time since I have been this close to a Little Stint and for now all my troubles were forgotten and the world seemed a much better place as I departed its company.

Just can't get enough 2nd September 2014

An Indian summer has arrived in Oxfordshire today and spending a sunny, balmy afternoon at Farmoor communing with the two utterly entrancing juvenile Curlew Sandpipers that have been here for the last few days, seemed just the ticket. The gentle southeast wind hardly ruffled the waters of the reservoir and the entire  pale concrete circumference of the reservoir was littered with dozing geese and ducks, like holidaymakers on a beach, somnambulent in the warmth of the sun.

I wandered up the Causeway, gently drifting in mind and body and soon came upon the juvenile Black tailed Godwit, still endlessly picking invertebrates from the exposed mud as the reservoir waters continue to be drained for some unknown purpose. I do hope it stays this way for a while as it will undoubtedly attract other waders to stop, rest and feed. 

The long legs and bill of the godwit give it an elegant demeanour which most tall beings possess, as it busily stalked along the water's edge picking up a morsel and then with a couple of convulsive gulps chucking it further up its bill and then down its throat with scarcely a halt in its ceaseless stalking along the water line in search of the next titbit.

Two or three juvenile Dunlins, brown, almost drab and without the charisma of being rare or unusual, wandered, isolated and busily, further along the shoreline but the Curlew Sandpipers were on their own right at the far end of the Causeway, feeding on a muddy corner, exposed by the dropping water level to form a tiny beach  I went down onto the exposed concrete shelving of the reservoir and sat quietly a few metres above the muddy corner. The Curlew Sandpipers were a little way off to my left slowly, side by side, making their way towards me as they picked and probed the muddy margin. 

Quite unafraid, confident in their security, they came ever onwards until they were opposite me. So close I could see that one was slightly more brightly marked than the other.

Brighter Curlew Sandpiper on the left

The sun reflecting off the water and exposed concrete was warm on my face and arms. I felt at ease, almost lethargic. The Curlew Sandpipers slowed too and then stood quietly, one in the water and one on the sandy mud as if also becoming lazy in the sun. No need to hurry, we were all in a mood of gentle contemplation. They fully fed and content. Me sat quietly in the warm sun relishing the moment and relaxed with no real care in the world.  I closed my eyes and left Farmoor. I was back in Africa, in the heat by the tropical waters of Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe, a far off memory but only for a brief moment. I opened my eyes again and chided myself for such a romantic fanciful dalliance. This could get out of hand!

Ten maybe fifteen minutes passed as, immobile we each savoured this gentle space of time in our own way. It was quiet and still with just the waves gently lapping on the shore line and the sun twinkling on the blue mirror surface of the reservoir. A time, if ever there was one, for reflection. Just for now the inexorable slide of the season into autumn seemed to be curtailed for this very purpose.

Curlew Sandpiper demonstrating the flexible end to its upper mandible 

I looked away and the spell seemed to break as a Ringed Plover flew in and the Curlew Sandpipers roused by this activity resumed their gentle, persistent feeding, probing for blood worms in the sandy mud as they wandered onwards past me.

I turned my attention to the Ringed Plover which was also a juvenile. So close I could see the sun reflected in its lustrous brown eyes and like the sandpipers seemingly unafraid of my close proximity. 

Ringed Plover with a Dunlin

I put the camera down and just sat enjoying this golden moment that found me sitting so close to these avian world travellers as they spent another day at Farmoor. It will not be long before they head southwards but maybe, just maybe this late summer flourish of settled weather will persuade them to stay for just a few more days and continue to enhance the lives of everyone who comes to see them.