Back to the Owls 16th December 2024

Last Saturday I kept a promise to myself and revisited a certain place in The Cotswolds where I had been fortunate to see some Short eared Owls a week ago see here.

However I was disappointed to draw a blank as no owls were flying over their favourite fields.Talking to another birder I discovered that they had been seen earlier in the day but now at 1000am on a sunny morning there was no sign of them.Presumably they were hunkered down in  the fields of coarse grass that serves as their winter home. I was further advised that they were unlikely to re-appear until mid afternoon.

I hung around for an hour or so harbouring a vague hope but my heart was not in it and I soon lost the will to persevere and left for home. However I vowed to return today, Monday and see if my luck would change.

Not having anything better to distract me I decided to make a day of it although aware the owls were unlikely to be around until mid afternoon. Short eared Owls are however unpredictable and I clung, totally unreasonably and without foundation, to the slim hope one or more might show themselves earlier.

Delayed by a minor problem at home I got there at 1030 and found that I was not alone in holding out hope that an owl might be up and about. Another fifteen cars were randomly scattered along the verges of the two lanes bordering the favoured fields but there was little sign of anyone, just empty cars.

I parked in my usual spot on the verge of the quieter of the two lanes and where it intersected with the other busier lane which appeared to be a link between two larger roads judging by the regular traffic passing along it.

Looking up that lane I could see one other photographer moving rapidly up the lane towards an owl flying around by a drystone wall that marked the far end of the field. I caught up with the unknown photographer and we made a five minute walk up the lane to the top end of the field, both of us fearing the obvious  that the owl would have disappeared by the time we got there. All went well however as the owl stalled in mid air and pitched into the grass right by the lane, which at this time of the day was thankfully relatively quiet.

We walked as close as we dared to the owl as it stood in the grass.Had it caught a vole? Getting closer it looked like it had missed its intended victim but remained in the grass looking around for a minute or two. Owls when they fail like this always adopt a look of complete surprise on their face as if they can hardly believe the vole has escaped their clutches

Where did that vole go?

The owl took off and flew in a familiar buoyant flight to a nearby dry stone wall and posed beautifully on top of the wall in perfect sunlight. We both made the most of this unexpected and rare opportunity and took our pictures, quite a few in fact! 

The owl remained on the wall for a few minutes and then took to the air only to be instantly mobbed by a Carrion Crow. It flew down the field parallel to the lane before dropping into the grass and that was it. I could not find it in the grass, even with my bins, as no doubt it had secreted itself behind a large tussock,well out of the cold wind .

Well, what an unexpected bonus that was and buoyed by this success we stood about waiting and hoping for more but as often happens no more owl action came our way. We walked down the lane and leaving my new found friend I turned right to walk along my favourite quieter lane, finding other photographers stood by another wall overlooking the fields.I hadn't the heart to tell them  that they were in the wrong place  and what they had missed but their presence explained the empty cars that I had noted earlier. I walked to the end of the lane and turned right again for a short stretch and then right once more onto a footpath that led across the top of the fields and eventually took me back to where I had first seen the owl. I discovered yet more photographers scanning the fields from the footpath as I passed along it.Sadly though, no owls were to be seen anywhere.

A Raven put in its customary appearance, announcing its presence by 'cronking' as it flew high over the fields and a flock of Rooks, scattered like black rags on the wind. Three Fieldfares, moving west, chackered in alarm high in the grey sky, the earlier sun now but a memory. 

I walked back to my car and chatted some more to my photographer friend who told me he came here frequently, travelling all the way from Somerset and it transpired he was a mine of local knowledge and information. He told me he was on good terms with the local farmer who is sympathetic to the owls, has erected Barn Owl boxes and is paid to keep the fields free of chemicals, which means the voles thrive. He also told me that after I had left on Saturday the farmer had counted 64 cars here in the afternoon! This location is becoming ever more well known, some say notorious and I do not know why I keep it a secret as the genie is well out of the bottle, so if anyone wishes to know, it is near a village called Hawling. Google 'Owls and Hawling' and you will find all the information you require. I would not recommend visiting on weekends.

Disconcertingly the photographer told me a friend of his who came here on Sunday last had seen no owls at all despite staying all day. I was also informed that the owls are favouring the fields either side of the busier lane this year.It is information such as this that is crucial for success as before I had always assumed the quieter lane was the best location to see the owls.

After our chat I decided to go to my car and sit in the warm out of the wind as it had now become stronger and it felt decidedly cold, the fields being at quite a high and exposed elevation.I wondered if the wind would deter the owls from flying.

The hours passed slowly as I  listened to the radio in the car which was positioned so I was able to check the fields with my bins without having to leave the car. Three hours passed with not a sign of an owl and I was saying to myself as birders do in such situations 

'Let's give it another half an hour Ewan and then go'

Or is just me that does this? 

I noticed from noon onwards an increasing number of cars were arriving with birders/photographers and parking in the passing places along the busier narrow lane.Not a good idea in my opinion and by so doing generating plenty of potential to upset the locals.They could always park in the quieter lane and walk.It really is not that far just a few hundred metres,.

Two thirty arrived and I decided on no more half hour extensions, opting to make one final walk up and down the lane before heading for home. I had some nice images after all from this morning's lucky encounter. I got out of the car and casually checked the field to my right as I had done countless times before and there, at the top, as earlier this morning, was the distinctive profile of a flying Short eared Owl.

At last! 

I hurried up the lane passing other owl enthusiasts who seemed not to have noticed the flying owl, being engrossed in looking over the field on the other side of the lane. I got to the top of the lane and stationed myself on the narrow verge, standing perilously close to the tarmac and fast moving passing cars but needs must.

The busy narrow lane, for the moment traffic free.The owls were hunting over
the fields either side and in some cases crossed the lane

Owls now seemed to be everywhere on either side of the lane, flying both near and distant over the fields. 

Like giant moths they floated across the fields, every so often rising in the sky to conduct regular disputes with other owls, their harsh cries of displeasure at finding another of their kind encroaching on their airspace sounding loud and clearly in the cold air, two sometimes three regularly interacting, flying with supreme grace and speed, rising to aerobatically talon grapple with one another.

The owls not only had confrontations with their own kind but with kestrels and crows.The former in particular aggressively trying to mug any owl that had caught a vole. One kestrel right in front of me successfully attacked and locked talons with an owl which relinquished its vole prey and fled.I have seen kestrels do this to Barn Owls but never knew they would tackle these Short eared Owls.

A Kestrel in the act of stealing a vole from a Short eared Owl

For an unforgettable hour, that passed all too quickly, it was Short eared Owl mania before the light became too dull for photos.The owls continued their hunting and foregoing the camera I watched, enthralled  through my bins, as up to six Short eared Owls quartered  the fields.  

It was a truly amazing sight to see these beautiful and charismatic creatures so close to me and for such a prolonged period.

Happy Christmas one and all, whoever you are and wherever you may be.

do dheagh shlainte agus sonas - to your good health and happiness

This will be my last post for a while. I am off to Scotland.and wilder places for a while

What a Surprise! 8th December 2024

Yesterday, Saturday, the weather was apochryphal as Storm Darragh brought 80mph winds and lashing rain to Britain. I was tempted to go to my local Farmoor Reservoir in the hope the extreme weather might bring a storm blown seabird such as a Gannet or an 'in your dreams' Leach's Petrel to this most inland of reservoirs.

However Thames Water sensibly closed the reservoir to visitors so the matter was taken out of my hands.All day the wind and rain hammered at the house, the gusts getting ever stronger in the late afternoon and early evening.

General opinion on local social media suggested the reservoir would again be closed the following day, Sunday, as the wind was predicted to be still very strong although the rain might have ceased.

Nevertheless I resolved to try Farmoor first thing in the morning, reasoning that if it remained closed I could view the reservoir with a telescope from the Countryside Walk which encircles the reservoir outside the boundary fence.I still harboured hopes of a Gannet or Leach's Petrel and now, ever the optimist I added Grey Phalarope to my fanciful wishlist 

Well why not?

Deciding to set off early at 8am I was pleased to find any floods in our part of Oxfordshire had not materialised and the fallen branches from yesterday had been cleared from the rural roads around our village. Being an early Sunday morning there was little traffic so I soon arrived at the reservoir to find the gates were open. So far so good. I drove through, parked the car and headed for the central causeway.The wind remained extremely strong and being from the northeast, cold as well and every so often an extra strong gust of wind threatened to bowl me over.Needless to say no one else was on the causeway.I had it all to myself.

And no wonder as the  wind continuously and relentlessly  battered me sideways as it swept unhindered across the open waters of the reservoir.

Sadly there was nothing to see from the causeway apart from a pair of Greater Black backed Gulls that treated the wind as if it was nothing, making great sweeps across the churning waters without once flapping their wings. At the far end of the causeway, in the lee of the wave wall where it was sheltered, Tufted Ducks and Coots had gathered to feed and gain some respite from the wind. I also found the wintering Common Sandpiper here, wandering by the water's edge in the comparative calm, reluctant to fly, knowing it would be swept away on the wind. Common Sandpipers usually do not tolerate you anywhere near them but possibly due to the wind it allowed me to walk past without fleeing from my presence. This is the fourth year that a Common Sandpiper has wintered on the reservoir and although unlikely it could possibly be the same individual that has been present for all four years.

I decided to carry on walking around the smaller basin F1, to see if a phalarope might be feeding by the concrete shore, currently being lashed by white surf, but predictably there was nothing.

I completed the mile  circuit and on getting back to the cafe decided a coffee might be nice but found the cafe was closed due to a power cut.

What to do? 

Let's give the larger basin, F2 a go. 

You never know. That elusive phalarope might just be lurking out there.

Nothing ventured nothing gained or something like that. 

Birders are forever optimistic and having Farmoor Reservoir as your local patch elevates that requirement to a whole other level, believe me.

I immediately regretted my decision as the full force of a very strong wind hit me. Blind obstinacy made me carry on as the breaking waters hit the wall in a surge of white froth and spray. Of birds there was predictably no sign apart from two Pied Wagtails which were foolish enough to fly up from under the wave wall only to be instantly caught by the wind and, barely in control hurled downwind far behind me. It was like this until I got to the southwestern corner which provided partial shelter from the full force of the wind. 

Flotillas of Coots and Tufted Ducks had congregated on the calmer water here but on checking them there was no sign of a hoped for Scaup. See what I mean about being optimistic? The garrulous Greylag Geese were for once silenced, squatting asleep on the grass by the perimeter track with heads firmly reversed into their feathers as the wind whipped over the grass, their bodies feathered grey mounds facing into the unforgiving wind. They did not even bother to remove their heads from their feathers as I walked by a few feet from them.

Further along, by the western wall of the basin I came to a small gathering of Mallards resting on the concrete that shelves down to the water. They too were asleep. Through watering eyes I nearly overlooked a small wader near to them,right at the water's edge  My initial reaction was  it must be the Common Sandpiper that had moved from the end of the causeway.

But the rotund, crouching profile of the bird gave me pause for thought and checking in my bins I  could see a  plump, overall greyish body but it was the bill that told me what it was. Medium long, with an orange base and slight kink at its tip. It could only be one thing - a Purple Sandpiper.

I could hardly believe it. 

At last a reward for the countless times I have circuited the reservoir only to find nothing exceptional. But this is  why I do it, an eternal optimism that every day may be the one when I find something out of the ordinary here.

Purple Sandpipers are usually confiding and this individual was no exception.Slowly, I walked towards it, the bird paused briefly to regard me and then, unconcerned, carried on feeding, picking at the concrete, probing the holes and cracks for food.

I ventured closer until I was almost opposite and no more than ten feet away. There was no adverse reaction from the sandpiper.

Now came the realisation that I had left my camera in the car.So used to not having it for the last month it had slipped my mind to take it with me and it was a long walk/jog to get back to the car and retrieve it. Torn between remaining and admiring the sandpiper or going to get the camera to record this momentous event, I opted for the latter. There was no one else on the reservoir to disturb it and the bird itself seemed content and settled.. I would have to take a chance. It would be a good twenty minutes running and fast walking but it had to be done or there would be no photos, which would be unbearable.

I called Andy who I had met earlier near the cafe but now was somewhere else on the reservoir and relayed my find to him. I also put out the news on my local Oxon Bird Forum Whats App group for anyone local who might be interested.

I raced off to return to the car as fast as possible, cursing my foolishness in leaving the camera behind.It seemed to take an age but finally I was there. Jumping in the car I drove up and onto the perimeter track  to get back to where the sandpiper was. Anxiety that it might have flown off was foremost as I drove but I need not have worried. The Mallard had departed but the sandpiper remained in splendid isolation, feeding in that distinctive crouching style of their's,  still probing the holes and gaps in the concrete shelving and even wading into the shallow water at its edge. 

Purple Sandpipers spend the winter in Britain on piers and rocks by the sea so the churning waters and breaking waves on the concrete of the reservoir were undoubtedly familiar and of no real concern to it and probably made it feel at home. 

The prominently pale edges to the wing coverts indicated it to be a first winter bird.Where it had come from was anybody's guess and where it was bound for was again open to conjecture.Maybe it had been storm blown from the coast or more likely was making its way overland to a southern coastline when the storm arrived and forced it to put down onto the reservoir and wait for better weather 

So many maybe's and no real answers!

Farmoor's concrete certainly suited it as I have seen them spending the winter on concrete piers at the coast such as those at Newhaven in East Sussex and Brixham in Devon.

This bird was the twenty second of its kind to be recorded at Farmoor Reservoir and the first to be seen here in the month of December. I also found the last to be recorded here before today when I discovered a juvenile on the causeway three years ago on 31st August 2021.My encounter with that one was equally unexpected and again came after a fruitless walk around the reservoir.

The first Purple Sandpiper recorded at Farmoor was as long ago as September 1976 and all, apart from one in May 2011, have been found during the months of August-November, the latter month being the most popular with seven records.

The Purple Sandpiper had gone by the following morning

An Interesting Two Days 5th-6th December 2024

BBC's Countryfile decided to film a piece about Farmoor Reservoir for a future programme and set Thursday the 5th of December as the day when they would film, planning to  spend all day at the reservoir. I was flattered to be volunteered by Thames Water to talk about the birds, having written a booklet listing the birds that have, over the years, been recorded there -250 species at the last count including 12 national rarities

I was delighted to discover that the person interviewing me would be John Craven, he of John Craven's Newsround that I grew up with in the 1970's. I always imagined him to be a really nice man and was delighted to find out that he was.

Originally it was planned to do the first bit of filming in the Pinkhill Reserve Hide then transfer to the reservoir's causeway but there has been so much rainfall lately that the reserve and surrounding fields, which lie adjacent  to the River Thames, are inundated with water and the waterfowl have dispersed, resulting in nothing to be seen on the reserve, so it was decided to go directly to the causeway

Walking the causeway with John  we talked to camera about the birds on the reservoir. Unfortunately due to the time of year there was not a lot to see but the Countryfile crew seemed  to be reasonably happy to hear about the winter residents, such as Tufted Ducks, Great crested Grebes and Cormorants with a diversion into my birding exploits with regard to twitching. 

Of much interest to me was how the programme was put together with conversation pieces being filmed and then John providing a spoken link.The one great advantage of it not being live was if you messed up a take it could be done all over again.

At first a little nervous, once we got going everything was fine and I forgot about the cameras and sound man and just chatted with John as if nothing was more natural.

After lunch we concentrated on the gull roost and then with the weather, as predicted closing in and dusk imminent, my day of minor celebrity came to a conclusion.

The programme I have been told will be broadcast on the 5th of January 2025

The next day, Friday, the weather had improved sufficiently for me to contemplate doing some proper birding. After what seemed an interminable time my camera has finally returned from being repaired so I was keen to try it out and re-assure myself that all was now well with it. 

My home in northwest Oxfordshire does not lie that far from the north western edge of The Cotswolds which is in Gloucestershire.  Unlike my part of the Cotswolds it is wilder with less habitation and consists of open rolling countryside,all at some elevation. Nearby and lower lies the town of Cheltenham. In this area is a well known location consisting of large uncultivated fields of rough grass, not that far from a busy road and where Short eared Owls come every year in varying numbers. This year by all reports is a good one for the owls with up to ten being present.

Turning off the main road I took to a narrow lane for half a mile, thence to turn onto an even narrower lane that brought me to the fields in question. I should at this point mention that so popular has this place become with photographers it can sometimes get very busy, especially on weekends with people travelling considerable distances for the opportunity to photograph the owls. Birders and photographers cars parked on the narrow verge have caused some friction and not everyone locally is happy about the disturbance to this isolated part of the Gloucester countryside.

From my point of view the lanes are public roads with anyone having the right to use them and the owls are not troubled by the presence of cars and people. So long as everyone observes the rules which are not to encroach into the fields and not to block the lanes I can see the only problem being the sheer number of cars that now arrive especially on weekends.

Today there were hardly any people present when I got there at 1130am, maybe a dozen at most and I chose to forgo the most popular spots to observe the owls and consequently, for the most part I was on my own, standing by a crumbling drystone wall that marked the boundary between lane and field. 

A passing birder told me that he had seen numerous owls flying around since 9am which is unusual as they normally do not hunt so early. I could only speculate that yesterday's mainly inclement weather had prevented them from hunting successfully and hunger had persuaded them to rise early to hunt for their vole prey

Today marked a hiatus in weather systems, a period that was almost windless before the forecast Storm Darragh  arrived, bringing rain and wind of considerable violence, threatening gusts of up to 80mph, to batter Britain in the early hours of tomorrow,.There would be no hunting in such wind for the owls so they had better get on with it today in this brief but welcome window of weather respite and opportunity.

The days are short now as we approach the winter solstice, the longest night but three weeks hence and already at noon the light was dull and the air cold. The earlier sunshine had long since retreated behind a covering of cloud, the trees and hawthorn bushes, now in thrall to winter, are reduced to stark bone like bare branches and twigs, long ago stripped of berries by Redwings and Fieldfares, the migrant thrushes of autumn. There was no bird song apart from a thin trickle of notes conjoured up by a Robin but it soon fell silent. Anxiety has been an unwelcome companion all my life but despite the stillness and silence of this typical winter's day which can be unsettling I felt no such care today, in fact quite the reverse. 

I contemplated the tussocky field before me that rose by means of a gentle slope to a ridge bordered by an uncertain frieze of dark trees behind. Looking to my right, in the distance a drystone wall ran at right angles from the wall I stood by, to partition the field I faced from another equally large field beyond.

Occasionally I caught a glimpse of an owl flying, alternating from side to side, above the dividing wall, first visible and then not so. Even at a distance their hunting  flight renders them utterly distinctive,  hesitant with slow beats of long, rounded wings that are marbled brown and buff, they fly like a giant, heavy headed, unstable moth, dipping and swerving, tilting from side to side as they pass low over the ground with the occasional dive into the rank grass after a vole, which nine times out of ten appears to be unsuccssful.

It was not long before an owl came reasonably close, passing halfway up the field in front of me.Here was my chance to check my camera and make any necessary adjustments.The lack of sunlight and consequent gloominess was not conducive to photography but this was alright as it tested my ability to practice getting the correct settings on the camera.

The owl disappeared but in the distance I could see another four owls, circling high in the grey sky having a dispute, calling with discordant, sharp, barking cries before separating and dropping back to earth.

A car came down the lane and the driver, presumably a birder asked me if any owls were here, informing me that the owls had been showing well half a mile up the lane but I was content by my wall, happy in my own company. In situations such as this and where to be left alone is a rare event it is only when I can endeavour to be free of company that I feel in harmony with the land and the overall experience becomes its most enjoyable..

For the next hour and a half no more owls patrolled the field but it was of little consequence, as alone I contemplated a landscape declining towards daylight's end, the air still as if holding its breath in anticipation of the approaching elemental turbulence. Pheasants became increasingly noisy, the cocks croaking challenges to one another from the long grass, a Raven 'cronked' from a tall tree in the distance as small flocks of twittering Goldfinches passed overhead. A pair of wintering stonechats followed each other across the field, perching on prominent dead stems, tiny dark images that dived to earth in a sea of withered grass, chasing after ants and spiders, then to re-emerge and once more achieve prominence on another elevated perch.The melancholy contact calls of a pair of Bullfinches, unseen in a nearby isolated hawthorn served to enhance the sense of solitariness and winter's dormant emptiness. 

After a long wait another owl flew over the field, this time  to cross the lane and disappear into the distance behind me. I felt a chill wind commencing, a prelude to what was to come, so at shortly after three pm I departed. It would be dark in another hour.

 

I had been very fortunate to see this final Short eared Owl at such close range, if only for a minute.

There will be other days to see them this winter of that I am certain.