Frampton's Lesser Yellowlegs 14th February 2024

A Lesser Yellowlegs, a North American wader superficially similar to our Common Redshank which arrived at the RSPB's  Frampton Marsh reserve in Lincolnshire last September has remained there for the winter. 

It has provided very good views lately, having chosen to spend time resting and feeding on a flash of floodwater close to and adjacent to the reserve's small car park and Visitor Centre and shows little fear of the comings and goings of both cars and birders. Indeed on recent occasions it has frequented the flooded areas of the car park itself.

Lesser Yellowlegs are reasonably frequent vagrants to western Europe with around five per year being found in Britain, mainly between August and October.Wintering birds are less usual. They breed in the boreal forest regions of North America from Alaska to Quebec and spend the winter  on the Gulf Coast of the USA, the Caribbean and South America. I have seen them on birding trips to both Ecuador and Colombia and have seen eight in various parts of Britain.

February can be a dull month for birding although this winter has been much enlivened by the invasion of Waxwings. However there are only so many Waxwings to see before the novelty begins to fade. Mark rang me earlier in the week and suggested we find a day when it was not raining and go to Frampton to photograph  the Lesser Yellowlegs (The Legs) and do some general birding at what is by mutual consent one of our favourite reserves.

Checking the weather forecast I suggested Wednesday (Valentines Day) that promised light cloud and no rain which would be ideal. Mark volunteered to drive, so early on Wednesday morning I made my way to his house in Bedfordshire for a not too onerous 8am rendezvous.

It's two hours to Frampton from Mark's house and making one stop for his obligatory double espresso and my latte  we eventually entered into the flat, featureless landscape of Lincolnshire with its vast, bare acres, stretching away on either side of the straight, monotonous road that bisects this part of eastern England. Like a giant lid clamped firmly over the flat landscape the lowering, unbroken grey cloud possibly foretold rain but it came to nothing as, at the end of a narrow lane, we left the car in a very wet and muddy car park by the RSPB's small Visitor Centre and Cafe.

The Legs was not hard to find as we could see several birders that were obviously looking at it from the wire fence that separated the car park from a flash of shallow water. On the other side of the water was a protective bund that currently provided a buffer from the strong but mild southwest wind and in the lee of which not only The Legs but various ducks such as Wigeon, Teal and Shoveler found shelter. 

Initial impressions of The Legs were of a bird  with an ash grey head tucked into similar coloured upperparts, asleep and standing on one long, bright yellow leg.

Beyond the bund lay yet more flooded fields and marshland populated by many Lapwings, round shouldered in repose, hunched silently and stoically against the wind, the distance and low light rendering them as a ragged line of black silhouettes.

The reserve is large, a benign desolation of partially flooded flat fields and lagoons of shallow water and for me at least was a welcome wild and natural place to visit after the earlier drudgery of driving on busy roads to get there.  The fields, today were populated by huge numbers of Golden Plover and yet more Lapwings, the goldies flying in one flock, thousands strong, a starburst of feathered beings like a ghost moving at great height across the grey skies, while the less aerial Lapwings regularly took to the air in false alarm, their peevish cries borne away on the wind before gently returning to earth, in an alternation of black and white as their bodies titlted in the wind.

 

It was not a cold wind that blew into our faces thus making it bearable to remain standing out in the open. We stood awaiting The Legs to rouse itself but apart from awaking with a start to briefly indulge in nibbling at an irritating feather or moving out of the way of a blundering Wigeon or clumsy Shoveler, it remained steadfastly asleep at the water's edge below the bund. 

To while away the time I admired the ducks swimming about on the flash. Remarkably confiding for truly wild birds, they seem to know they are safe from human threat here and consequently show relatively little fear. 

Handsome Wigeon drakes, sumptuous in their pastel colours, punctuated the air with loud whistles while pocket sized Teal, squat, rotund and equally colourful, contributed their peculiar cricket like calls. I reflected on how few ducks actually quack. Only female Mallards and Gadwalls indulge in the traditional loud 'quack'

Shovelers, the males fabulously coloured, you could almost call them exotic, and with an enormous black spatulate bill, rarely make a sound but when the drakes fly their wings produce a distinct loud whirring or humming sound, more so than other duck species.

After an hour and with no indication  The Legs was about to leave the land of nod we thought better of it and retired to the Cafe for a coffee. A sensible move as it was possible to sit inside by a window and keep an eye on The Legs in case it woke up and started moving about. Half an hour later we returned outside to resume looking longingly at the sleeping bird, willing it to move but it showed no indication it was about to co-operate.

The ducks, in the meantime provided endless entertainment, a support act if you like but the star turn was still not ready to participate. We returned to the Cafe for another coffee. It was now approaching three hours that The Legs had been, for the most part asleep.Would it ever wake up?

A RSPB volunteer cheerily told us how well it had been showing earlier in the morning prior to our arrival. Birders are used to this, it happens all too often and I have even done it myself. We try to put on a brave face but it can be very annoying. 

Sat in the Cafe, Mark for the umpteenth time checked on The Legs with his bins. 

It was not under the bund!

A quick scan revealed it was feeding very close to the car park fence and here was our opportunity to make our long wait a successful one. A mild panic ensued as I endeavoured to finish my soup and roll as fast as possible. Mark grabbed his camera and bins and made for the door with me following in some disarray. 

A volunteer laughed as we made haste for the door, having obviously seen this behaviour before

Yellowlegs woken up has it lads?

Outside we quickly crossed the few yards to the fence and there in all its loveliness was The Legs wandering across the flooded grass picking items from the waterlogged ground. 'Legs' is an apposite nickname as its bright yellow legs are what catch your eye. Long, both above and below the 'knee' with thin delicate toes they supported a slim tapered body that made its way through the water with no little grace and poise  as it searched for food.

A supremely elegant bird that from  a distance appeared ash grey above and white below but when seen closer, the intricate patterning on its upperparts and the thin black bars on its white tail  became readily apparent. Its movements were almost balletic at times as it extended its legs, even crossing them as it pirouetted to snatch a morsel from the water. Slimmer than a Redshank it was the long legs that imparted that extra refinement.

Others joined us but we were never more than half a dozen in number, watching and photographing. It has been here so long that most people with a mind to see it have already done so. A grey, inauspicious Wednesday probably also helped to quell the numbers of visitors too.

For ten maybe fifteen minutes it held the stage as it paraded before us, so very close at times and apparently not bothered by us edging even closer to it. 

It was joined by a Ruff, dumpier in form, appearing slighty hunch backed, shorter and thicker legged it was no contest as to which was the belle of the ball. The Legs eventually flew further out onto the flooded fields but soon returned to go to sleep by its favourite bund.

The Lesser Yellowlegs and a Ruff

We waited another hour for it to wake up which it eventually did but after a vigorous and extended session of bathing and preening, a panicked flock of Wigeon that had so recently been cropping the grass nearby took fright and.flew further out onto the reserve taking The Legs with them.

 

It was three in the afternoon and clouds were gathering so we reluctantly took our leave of The Legs and the pleasant reserve it currently graces.

My Local Stonechats 3rd February 2024

Saturday. A sunny but blustery Saturday morning. Another visit to my local Farmoor Reservoir. Eschewing the normal entrance to the reservoir that grants access to the main car park I drove up a lane at the back of the reservoir and left my car in a small discrete layby.

From here I walked through a small wood, following a narrow footpath that wound its way outside but close to the perimeter of the reservoir. It felt almost Spring like here, sheltered as it was from the wind, standing under an umbrella of blue sky with the calls of Great Tits chiming through the sunlit bare trees.

I had chosen to leave the car here as I knew that a combination of good weather and it being a Saturday would render the reservoir busy as both  fishermen and the yacht club took to the water while, by way of relaxation many people would be walking the perimeter track that encircles the reservoir's two basins then maybe paying a visit to the popular Waterside Cafe at the yachting marina.

It is rare for anyone apart from birders to choose to divert from the perceived security and convenience of the tarmac perimeter track and take to the more scenic but so much muddier Thames Path that lies adjacent and below the reservoir's retaining banks. Not that I am complaining as it is in such undisturbed areas one has a much better chance to find birds. 

Contrarily a pair of European Stonechats have decided to spend their winter in an unprepossessing neglected area very close to the reservoir's perimeter track but as far  as suffering from any disturbance from those walking the reservoir goes may as well be a mile away. It is an unlikely looking place, a mown hay meadow that slopes down to the Thames from a plastic coated chain link fence that once served as a barrier to the reservoir but is now bent and twisted and in severe need of repair or replacement, demonstrating yet more evidence of the neglect that a cash strapped Thames Water shows (apart to shareholders) towards both the infrastructure and natural environment for which they are responsible.

The stonechats spend most of their time perched on the top of the fence, dropping down a few feet to seize their invertebrate prey from the ground below and then returning to the fence for further surveillance. It makes sense as with the lack of any tall vegetation on which to perch, they have, in the elevated vantage point of the fence a substitute that affords them a better opportunity  of sighting their prey of ants, spiders, caterpillars and the like.

The pair of European Stonechats - female left and male right

The wind was uncomfortably strong as I approached the fence, sweeping in from the southwest across the water meadows, so recently flooded by the swollen, fast running River Thames that flows through them. I was expecting the stonechats  to have abandoned the exposed fence  in favour of somewhere more sheltered as the force of the wind would surely make life very uncomfortable for such small birds.

I should have known better as they are tough and well capable of withstanding most extremes of our capricious winter weather.

I surveyed the fence with my binoculars and felt a surge of pleasure as I  found the male perched  face on into the wind and showing no ill effect from its bluster. The female soon joined him on the fence a few metres further along. I walked slowly towards them but they were having none of it and moved further down the fence when I was still distant.

The male disappeared but the female dropped down to use a couple of ventilation pipes as a hunting perch.I took a couple of images and then she too flew I knew not where, certainly not back to the fence.

I gave up looking for them and decided to go to the bird hide at the nearby Pinkhill Reserve to see what if anything might be on the marsh and water in front of it.There had been the excitement of a Great White Egret yesterday but today it was predictably absent. A couple of Little Grebes have adopted the pond in front of the hide and maybe will remain to breed when the rushes and sedge grow up further.The two seem to be a pair, snuggling close to one another, their buff and brown winter colours rendering them almost invisible against the dead reedmace.

Another sure sign of the approaching Spring, which comes ever earlier as our climate warms, is the presence of a  pair of Gadwall.Where they come from I do not know but certainly they are absent from the reservoir and its surrounds from late autumn until now. I watched them idly feeding on the wind rippled sunlit water. The drake, superficially dull but on closer inspection a masterpiece of understated beauty, the female similar to a female Mallard but with a distinctive orange band running along the edge of her bill. 

Gadwall

Teal have also arrived, the drakes, tiny busybodies that fuss and swim in circles around the females, before convulsing in display with bowed heads and uplifting of tails, accompanied by musical, cricket like calls.

Suddenly there was a panic and scattering of the ducks as a Sparrowhawk flew across the marsh in a slow motion fluttering, swaying flight so different to the usual high speed, low level dash they normally employ when hunting. It was weaving in and out of the bare trunks and branches of the willows and alders at the water's edge, keeping low to the ground, obviously searching for any hiding bird on which to pounce.Maybe a Common Snipe which love to conceal themselves in the waterside sedge below the trees. Unsuccessful in its search it pitched into an Alder, drawing a small gathering of concerned Mallard that congregated on the water in front of it and kept vigil until they saw it depart in that same slow and uncertain flight. 

A Common Chiffchaff, normally a summer migrant but which has spent the winter around the reserve commenced calling anxiously from the trees on the far bank, possibly alarmed by the recent presence of the Sparrowhawk.

I sat alone in the hide for a while. At a loss as to what to do. Unwilling to walk up to the reservoir proper and its over populated perimeter track I took to the lower Thames Path that runs by the river and eventually returned to the stonechats and their favoured fence and meadow. I was now at the bottom of the hay meadow as opposed to the top. Looking up and across the meadow I could see no sign of the stonechats perched on the fence where they would be silhouetted on the skyline.They betray their presence by appearing at distance as distinctive tiny aberrations on the top of the fence, popping up and down as they drop to the ground and back up again. Walking along the lower path and towards the far end of the fence I was expecting nothing but there was a familiar tiny outline. Bins up and I found myself looking at the female stonechat and seconds later the male. 

Feeling I had little chance of getting close to them as there was nowhere to conceal myself on such open terrain I  considered my options.The birds were at the far end of the fence, close to a copse. Maybe I  could walk up at the side of the meadow by the copse as this would to a certain exent conceal my profile although they would undoubtedly be aware of me. I commenced walking very slowly up the slope, praying they remained on the fence.  As I got closer the thrill and adrenalin rush of the moment took hold. I was gambling. How close could I get? Could I get a few steps nearer or would they take fright? Slowly I moved ever closer but still they remained on the fence, no longer feeding and now obviously watching me. Closer and closer until I felt one more step would be too much for them.Slowly raising the camera I took as many images as I wanted of the male which was facing me, head on, his fragile body buffeted by each gust of wind, bracing himself to withstand its force by gripping the fence tightly until the wind abated. 

Male European Stonechat

Female European Stonechat

Emboldened by my success I took one step further and it was one step too far and they flew further along the line of the fence. Enough.

However this is not the end of my story for I decided to go up onto the perimeter track via an access gate and try my luck from the other side of the fence.

The birds were still on the fence as I arrived opposite them on the track and I commenced to walk across the small expanse of grass that separated the track from the fence. The stonechats were now facing away from me into the wind. Conscious of curious passersby wondering what I was doing I found the birds allowed me to get as close if not closer to them than before.

The two birds eventually flew further along the fence and I left them in peace as there was nothing more to be gained. 

I rather like stonechats and know quite a lot about them, so much so I was invited to write a book about them and all their close relatives that comprise the genus Saxicola ( Stonechats.A Guide to the Genus Saxicola 2002). In my opinion it is impossible not to like a stonechat. Perky and with a knowing look, they are much like a Robin full of character but much scarcer, self publicists as they flirt their tails and flick their wings from a prominent perch, they are the very essence of nervous energy, the male colourful and attractively patterned. 

So, on every coming visit to the reservoir I will look forward to enjoying the presence of this pair of stonechats. I know that one day soon I will find them gone as they do not breed at Farmoor and that will be a sad day but until then........................  

More on Waxwings 1st February 2024

Birders are by nature obsessives so it will come as no surprise that I have made yet another excursion to take advantage of this exceptional  winter of Waxwing irruption. This time I travelled to Longlevens in the City of Gloucester where fourteen are periodically guzzling pinkish white berries from an ornamental rowan tree situated in a suburban front garden on the city's outskirts. 

The birds spent most of their time perched, in typical fashion, high in a very tall tree a short flying distance from the berry tree in question and about every half hour they would fly down to the berry tree and frantically gobble as many berries as they could before flying at great speed back to their favourite tall tree.They rarely lingered in the berry tree for more than a few minutes so you had to be quick and lucky if you wanted to get anything resembling a decent photo of them.

The berry tree did not help aesthetically as it was a complex mix of berries, stems, twigs and branches so getting a decent shot was often not possible. Only if the Waxwings perched openly, such as on a television aerial or telephone wire prior to descending to feed on the berries did you have a chance to get an unobstructed image.

In the end I grew weary of attempting to get that classic side on pose of a Waxwing. I have plenty already, so opted for something more avant garde. 

My alternative was to try and get action shots of the birds as they fed on the berries. I noticed that when the birds settled in the rowan tree they seemed to show a preference for those berries at the extremity of the branches, presumably as that was where the largest bunches remained, most of the other more accessible berries in the centre of the tree already having been plundered. A Waxwing would land on a small branch and then tentatively edge right to the end of the branch where the berries hung in clusters from thin red stems.

The weight of the bird would cause the berries to droop even more than normal on their stems so the Waxwing then had to acrobatically contort itself, completely inverting its body at times, to gobble the berries whilst hanging downwards.

It made for some interesting and to my mind less usual images of these birds. It also highlighted some of the Waxwings behaviour you would not necessarily notice.For instance when they fly off they sometimes have a berry still firmly clasped in their bill.

I spent a couple of hours here, not entirely comfortable at standing by a front garden in a busy housing estate but the residents remained sanguine about my mild intrusion so hopefully no offence was caused.

Waxwings often move on well before a source of berries is depleted. It seems to be in their genetic nature to continue roving even when there are plenty of berries available where they already are.

Let's hope they remain for a little longer.