Mediterranean Return 9th March 2022

Two years ago, almost to the day, I made my annual visit to West Hayling Local Nature Reserve which lies adjacent to Langstone Harbour in Hampshire and where hundreds of Mediterranean  and Black headed Gulls congregate on the disused bunds of former commercial oyster beds, prior to breeding. It should have been its usual enjoyable and fulfilling day out in the company of the gulls but the covid virus was rapidly making its way towards our shores with gloomy predictions of dire consequences. 

The gulls, as ever, were entertaining in their displaying and antics, transformed in breeding plumage to look at their very best but an underlying and undeniable sense of impending doom and fear gripped me as it did many other people, leaving me wondering where we would be at this time next year. Not in a good place that's for sure.

Covid duly arrived and the world as we know it would never be the same again or at least it felt that way. In fact it was about as bad, possibly worse than predicted for many many months. Thousands of people died, life came to an almost complete halt with lockdowns and travel restrictions which prevented me having any chance of a return to Hayling or anywhere else in the following year.

So today was a catharsis if you like, as I sought to continue the process of picking up the threads of my life, gradually trying to resume a normal existence although covid has not gone away. A visit to the gulls at Hayling on an early Spring day was to be a reclamation of one more of those habitual threads that will hopefully contribute to making my life feel as if it is moving in a positive direction.

For such a visit as this it is best to pick a day when the sun shines and the forecast predicted this would be such a day. The angelic whiteness of the Med Gulls looks at its finest when seen against a blue sky. They almost glow in the sun's radiant sealight. 

In no particular hurry, I decided to wait until after the main morning rush of traffic, before making the two hour journey to the south coast and was rewarded with an easy journey and parked in the small car park overlooking Langstone Harbour at just after ten in the morning.

The sun was shining but there was a strong wind blowing from the southwest. Fresh is best to describe it and walking out onto the exposed track around the bunds of the long defunct oyster beds it would be stronger and fresher still. I set off for the bunds, only a short walk from the car, to where the gulls congregate. I could already hear the short exclamatory yelps of  calling Med Gulls, higher in pitch and markedly different to the harsher, grating calls of the Black headed Gulls. 

As before I found a secluded position overlooking the bunds, of which only two are used by the gulls, these  being safe from human disturbance and animal predators such as foxes, due to being surrounded by the sea even at low tide. I stood on a rock strewn shoreline  below a bank, out of the wind and waited for the Med Gulls to come flying in to the colony from Chichester Harbour.This gave me the optimum chance to get the flight shots I desired as they flew into the wind.

Med Gulls are stocky and full chested, with a thick red bill, squarish and flat wings in flight, a short tail and are slightly larger than a Black headed Gull and, to my mind, in breeding plumage are one of the world's more attractive gulls, appearing in flight, in a sunlit sky or low across the sea, almost ghostly white, due to their all white flight feathers and the palest of grey upperparts. The only contrast to their ethereal whiteness being a black head, crimson bill and legs.

Mediterranean Gulls

Mediterranean Gull and Black headed Gull

Black headed Gulls

The Black headed Gulls that also frequent the bunds and will breed here later are, in comparison, less impressive, the combination of brown hooded head, darker grey upperparts, black wing tips and with bills and legs that are brownish red,  fall well short of the more striking primary colours of the Med Gulls. Incidentally most of the Med Gulls will not nest here but move slightly further into Langstone Harbour to breed, once they have found a mate.

An hour or so passed pleasantly, standing by the seashore, troubled by no one and taking far too many photos of the gulls. I had no need to feel guilty at such an innocent pleasure. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, pitting my wits and camera against the flying gulls, for it is not as simple as it sounds to photo the gulls in flight as they come in fast from the sea, calling loudly, only then to drop and swoop in the strong wind, passing you in a flash. 

Having taken my photos of the flying gulls, I spent some time taking images of their posturing on the bunds as they displayed amongst themselves, all to a background bombardment of harsh calling from the Black headed Gulls. Displaying Med Gulls take small mincing steps, puff out their chests and then slowly bow, a curious, ritualised and exaggerated movement, with bent legs, before extending their neck and head upwards and holding their wings slightly away from their body. I presume both sexes indulge in this behaviour although it is impossible to tell as both sexes look the same to me and sometimes it is not clear if the displaying bird has any particular bird in mind. 

The Med Gulls  are not short on aggression and will often greet an incoming bird with antagonism, and a brief squabble will ensue, with much wing flapping and calling but the contretemps is soon settled and the individuals involved relax. 

Two, presumably adult Med Gulls,(as there is no black on their wing tips) but a long way from completing the moult into black on their heads

This aggression is not confined to their own kind and the Black headed Gulls can also receive the same treatment if they come too close and vice versa. The Med Gulls do seem to have the pick of the prime positions on the bunds and are usually to be found on the very top or perched on the highest rock or stone to give them predominance over the Black headed Gulls, which tend to position themselves lower down or away from the Med Gulls.

There was constant displaying from the Med Gulls during my time here, so presumably the birds were still sorting out their partners for the coming breeding season. It is still early in their breeding cycle after all, although some appeared already paired, these latter often flying high to circle in the sky, calling exuberantly, reaffirming their bonding. Even airborne there would be minor skirmishes when an interloper tried its luck.

A good number of the Med Gulls had still to attain a full black hood, many showing a variable area of white where the bill meets the head and a few had  considerably more white than black on their head but this final completion of their breeding finery will be completed in the next couple of weeks or so. A similar process of ongoing moult was evident amongst the Black Headed Gulls too.

Two adult Med Gulls, the one on the left still has a long way to go to achieve a similar black hood to the one on the right

Watching a gull colony can never ever be described as dull. It is a scene of endless movement, an aural assault combined with visual chaos, a drama of colour and sound that changes second by second as birds come and go, squabble amongst themselves, display and in the case of the Black headed Gulls start forming nest hollows.

Watching a trio of Med Gulls I observed how they would stand on the bund for a short while but then one would take to the air, calling and circle round before returning. Then would come more display, perhaps a tussle with one of its fellows and then another would take to the air and repeat the performance.This went on endlessly and was mirrored further along the bunds as other birds took to the air in a similar way, so that there was a constant wheeling of crying gulls, flying high into the clear sky or sweeping low across the sea between me and the bunds. I found myself wondering if this too was part of the process of finding a mate.

It is impossible to not feel energised by the gulls, so fired up are they even when on the ground. A restlessness brought on by the rising testosterone in their bodies. It is a living wildlife programme of which David Attenborough would be proud.The longer you sit and watch the more you see and are entertained.

Amongst the adults I noticed two or three second year birds that looked to all extents like an adult except there was black on their wing tips and their heads were noticeably pale, substituting the black hood of an adult with a large shadow of grey on the rear of their head.

Mediterranean Gulls are being studied extensively and there are now ringing schemes in a number of European countries, the birds being ringed with large coloured plastic rings with bold letters and numbers on them. Each country's ringing scheme has its own particular colour for their rings. For Britain it is yellow and for Denmark or Belgium white. I saw two colour ringed adult birds during my visit, one from Britain and one from Denmark or Belgium.

Here is an adult that has been colour ringed (white) in Belgium or Denmark.

Here is an adult colour ringed (yellow) in Britain

It was first ringed at nearby Langstone Harbour on the 25th June 2018, then subsequently seen in France in 2019, Belgium in 2020 and Wales in 2021. 

And so, after some three hours, my redemption felt complete. I had woven another thread of familiarity into my life and normal service was very much being resumed on this lovely Spring day. 

Let's hope it lasts!

Back to the Forest 5th March 2022

The Forest of Dean has always been my first choice to see Hawfinches, that most charismatic of  birds. In previous posts I have explained what it takes to see them see here and why I do it but today, on another visit to the forest, it was not Hawfinches that I hoped to see but Bramblings.

Bramblings come to Britain from Scandinavia and Russia, fleeing the harsh conditions of winter there to spend their time in Britain and other European countries where the winter is milder. Some years they are present in greater numbers than others and this winter has been a good one for them in Britain. In my home county of Oxfordshire they have been widely reported and in Surrey a flock of one thousand or more has been recorded from a weedy field earlier this year.This pales into insignificance to flocks of millions that have occasionally occurred  in winter in various central European countries but sadly not in Britain

I think it is fair to say that most birders find a sense of fulfilment on seeing a Brambling, Scandinavia's version of our Chaffinch.They are a bird worthy of comment as they can be scarce and elusive, often found in flocks of Chaffinches where they are always in the minority. Combine this with the fact they are pleasingly colourful, more so than our Chaffinch, whose muted colours are less striking, and you can understand the attraction. So it is that Bramblings are unreservedly welcomed with their bright and variegated plumage, which  slowly becomes ever brighter as the days lengthen and we move into Spring.

At this time of year they are adopting their breeding plumage and the male Brambling in particular shows a combination of bold colours; bright orange breast and flanks, orange and black wings, a grey/black head and white underparts. The fringes to all the feathers but particularly the head will soon wear away leaving a finch with a black head and mantle and underparts of orange and white.The female is similarly patterned but is very much more muted in her colouration and never attains a black head, which remains grey throughout the year. A female Chaffinch is positively dowdy in comparison being  dull olive brown with only white wing bars, outer tail feathers and a moss green rump as a relief to her overall drabness. On flying, both Brambling sexes display a distinctive white rump which makes them instantly distinguishable in a mixed finch flock.

Female Brambling

Male Brambling

I arrived in the forest half an hour after dawn as the place I had in mind, Parkend Church, is well known to birders and photographers alike and it is essential to arrive early to secure the optimum viewing spot. As with The Green at Parkend where I go to see the Hawfinches, it is essential to remain in one's car in order to not dissuade the birds from coming down to the seed that is scattered by one and all to attract them.

Parkend Church is situated at the top of a small hill overlooking the former industrial village of Parkend and is situated in a quiet and rural wooded area at the furthest reach of a dead end road with a turning area and a small cemetry on the opposite side to the church. This is where you park, at the side of the road, to scan the turning area and verge by the church wall, both scattered with seed to attract Bramblings and if you are very lucky, one or more Hawfinches. A series of shallow puddles formed by worn away holes in the turning area can sometimes also tempt down Crossbills, thirsty from eating the dry seeds of fir cones, to drink from them.

I brought with me a bag of sunflower seeds, peanuts and smaller grains and after positioning my car under a mighty Oak, cast an assortment of seeds on the ground a few metres away from the car and sat back to await developments. I like this time, when anything can happen or just as likely not.The sense of anticipation about what species of bird could arrive at any moment is akin to seawatching except it is land birds that one awaits.

I had come prepared for a long vigil and dressed accordingly in warm clothes.Thankfully the car would protect me from the worst of the cold wind and it was therefore not a hardship to sit with the car window wide open and camera at the ready.  

A few minutes later the first birds arrived from the surrounding trees and bushes, a Robin, as ever truculent and feisty and the customary Blackbirds. 

They were soon joined by a mix of male and female Chaffinches, busily bobbing along in short hops, nibbling tiny seeds in their bills as they progressed.The avian equivalent of food to go. 

A female Brambling with a male Chaffinch

A Jay was next to arrive, moving in giant bounding hops across the tarmac to collect peanuts, amassing  them in its bill, its arrival scattering the smaller birds. 

I could hear a Mistle Thrush, that like a wandering troubador was singing from somewhere near the church. It would undoubtedly be perched high in a tree, singing a song so ruminative and laconic it seemed to meander through the still bare boughs of the trees around me and dissolve into the cold morning air.

As I waited in the car my thoughts took me on a journey through time and space, far from this tranquil almost idyllic rural scene to a distant country suffering tyranny and horrific violence, inflicted upon its innocent people by a psychopathic monster of a human being, a bully and braggart consumed by hatred, jealousy, greed and a sense of inadequacy. I considered what the populace of Ukraine must be suffering at this very moment while I sat here in quiet and peaceful surroundings, comfortable in the knowledge that I and my loved ones live in an environment safe from threat and extreme fear. My emotions veered between anger and frustration that I was impotent to do anything  to help my fellow humans in their time of anguish, apart from send donations to charities and boycott Coca Cola and Costa. It seems so feeble but what else can one do? What madness is this that all the destruction and killing is to grab more land to subjugate when the world is spiralling to disaster through climate change and it will all be for nought. The futility of what is happening in Ukraine is just incomprehensible but then that is what hatred does, leading one beyond all reason.

Let us return to Parkend and the birds for now..................

Thankfully my depressing thoughts about Ukraine and a bloodthirsty tyrant were put on pause by the arrival of what I had been eagerly anticipating. A Brambling. A female admittedly but still enough to send a jolt of adrenalin through me. I raised the camera but at the same time the church clock chimed seven and the bird took alarm, and along with several Chaffinches fled into the surrounding bushes and trees. This was to be a regular feature of my stay, the birds descending from the trees but for only a few minutes before something, anything, alarmed them and they fled for shelter.It could be the church clock, the arrival of a crow or Jay, even a Goshawk overhead, the occasional dog walker or something unseen or unheard by myself cocooned in the car. All contributed to a continuous stop start presence and then absence of birds.

Their absence never lasted long though and the Robins were always first back, giving confidence to the Chaffinches whose presence on the ground in turn re-assured the Bramblings. I was on my own for the first hour, then another birder arrived and positioned her car behind mine.We waited. A female Siskin  dropped down, for seconds only, to drink from a puddle and a pair of Nuthatches began to visit, selecting choice sunflower seeds to fly off with and stash in the bark of the surrounding trees.

The sun began to creep up the hill, illuminating the tops of the trees lower down and finally reaching the church spire. The Mistle Thrush sang on, an endless rambling of mellifluous notes. 

Finally another Brambling arrived to join the Chaffinches. A male this time, distinctively orange amongst the darker pastel hues of the male Chaffinches, although not as obvious as you would imagine. It was joined by another two and this time there was to be no sudden departure, so I got my images although it was not long before another dread sent them hurrying back into the trees.

And so it went on, the Bramblings descending with the Chaffinches for a few minutes and then flying off in alarm. 

It only takes one individual to panic and the rest immediately and instinctively follow, before flying down again. The church clock tolled the hour and it was only ten in the morning.

I vowed that I would enjoy one more Brambling experience and then would leave. The Bramblings duly flew down ten minutes later, this time there were four, each bird distinctive, by way of subtle differences in their plumage, the various males especially identifiable by the degree of black or grey on their heads. In total I think I saw six different individuals, four males and two females, possibly there were more.

I cast a glance at the church clock. It was 1015. Then came a complete surprise. A shock even. I was photographing a male Brambling amongst a mix of Chaffinches, his golden flanks in stark contrast to the dark ground he was feeding on, when a Hawfinch suddenly dropped to the ground, presumably from the huge tree above me.  Its descent was so close I could hear the sound of its wings brrring the air as it came to earth. no more than two metres from my car. 

So unexpected and, totally enthralling, it stood on the ground four square, facing away and displaying that familiar bull neck and huge head, while taking a second or two to check all was well before commencing to feed on the sunflower seeds I had scattered on the ground. My camera of course went into overdrive and for once there was no need to worry about undue disturbance with no dog walker in sight or any other potential annoyance imminent.

The bird dwarfed the surrounding finches and fed continuously, hardly moving from the spot it had landed on. It was, for a Hawfinch, remarkably at ease in the open. I presumed it was emboldened by all the other birds feeding on the ground around it but when they took alarm at some perceived threat and fled, it crouched low to the ground but did not budge.The other birds soon came back and then, having gorged itself on sunflower seeds, it flew up and was gone. It was all over in two or three minutes. 

Of course any thoughts of leaving were summarily banished in the hope it or another Hawfinch would return. I waited until just before noon but was out of luck although I had many more close encounters with  the feeding Bramblings. 

Having had nothing to eat or drink for seven hours I drove downhill to the village to revive myself at Dean Forest Cycles cafe, an alternative to another favourite, The Postage Stamp Cafe, literally a few hundred metres further up the road. The Dean Forest cafe is a somewhat rustic affair and none the worse for that and although the establishment is primarily for refreshing bikers, selling biking gear and hiring out bikes to ride around in the forest, the very friendly staff make any visit very pleasurable and on a cold day they always have a wood burning stove to warm oneself by. What more can you ask for?

Recharged with a coffee and pasty and a warm  by the stove I decided to leave the forest and make my way home via Slimbridge. I fancied another chance to renew acquaintance with the long staying Glossy Ibis, which spends most of its time in a wet field by the beginning of the entrance road to the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust.

When I arrived the ibis was conveniently feeding very close to the road and I joined a couple of others papping away at the ibis and got the images I desired in double quick time. They are such outlandish looking birds, almost prehistoric in appearance and with ever increasing numbers are now virtually resident in Britain. It surely cannot be long before they attempt to breed here.

If I am honest, although it was nice to see the ibis I felt that I had fallen under a spell at Parkend Church, my world restricted physically to the view from my car window and no more. I had, in my mind, retreated into  that small quiet area visited by the birds  and the busy environment around the ibis with a popular pub, many cars and a well used canal, all adjacent to the ibis, just did not seem to fit my mood.