The Crayfish Cruncher - 30th March 2026

Great Northern Divers, almost invariably immature birds, are a reasonably regular visitor to my local Farmoor Reservoir during the winter months, usually only single birds but sometimes two together.

This winter it wasn't until five days ago that one graced the concrete bowl of delights, being discovered on the larger basin in the late afternoon of the 26th of March.Better late than never.

I went the next morning, Friday  to see it, a day of gloom, low cloud and blustery cold wind but forty plus Sand Martins flickering across the troubled reservoir waters and a singing Willow Warbler in the hedgerow were re-assurance that Spring, despite the cold and grey conditions was truly here.

At first I was unable to locate the diver as it demonstrated a remarkable facility for giving one the slip, travelling long distances underwater to surface unexpectedly far from where it submerged. A behavioural trait I have noticed before with this species.

Finally, once it was found I kept an eye on it but even so it managed to evade me once again. This  of course may say more about my observational skills than the diver's elusiveness.Later that morning after the yacht club took to the water the diver flew and relocated to the adjacent smaller basin the other side of the central causeway and here it has remained undisturbed ever since. Thankfully the strong wind and resulting waves have deterred the paddle boarders who use this smaller basin from taking to the water.When they do I suspect the diver will depart. 

The following day, Saturday, such is the reach of social media, saw many birders coming to view the diver and take its photograph and it was only today, Monday that I returned to the reservoir, not so much to see the diver as to discover what early migrants if any were out and about on the reservoir.

Hirundines have been making a welcome appearance these last few days mainly in the morning, chiefly Sand Martins but with a few Swallows amongst them and today I added House Martin to my year list as a couple flew in the lee of the strong north wind under the trees at the western end of the reservoir.

I stood here with Dave, another Farmoor regular and chatted and birded, glad to be out of the worst of the wind that had buffeted me on the exposed causeway. We watched a pair of Grey Wagtails, prospecting nest sites, their  beauty and elegance rendering them surely one of the most underated of birds.

Hirundines flew around us and above the nearby trees and water works, the Sand Martins churring calls a cheery counterpoint to the grey skies. A Cattle Egret and then a Great Egret flew south and north respectively, later a Sparrowhawk mobbed by a crow flew past at tree top height, the crow, emboldened, almost colliding with the raptor but the sparrowhawk's superior flying ability allowed it to evade the crow's unwelcome attentions with consumate ease. Later a repeated single note call came from the sky.It was naggingly familiar but at first I could not place it but then, of course, it came to me. It was a Little Ringed Plover, a newly arriving migrant that flew over us but was reluctant to land and disappeared to the south east.

It is little incidents like this that keep one enthused and coming back for more on what is after all an unexceptional and for much of the time unexciting inland reservoir.

The diver, meanwhile remained well offshore as more Farmoor regulars joined us but slowly we drifted away, each with our own priorities and preferences. I made my way down off the reservoir to the Thames Path by the river, glad to be out of the nagging wind. The blackthorn blossom still maintained a froth of white if a little battered amongst the slowly greening hawthorns as the wistful refrain of a Willow Warbler's song came from the tops of the trees to be answered by another a little further away.The songs were muted as if the strong wind deterred the birds from anything bolder but unequivocally it was the melancholy but welcome song of a Willow Warbler and a little later I saw one of the birds snatching flies from the twigs and leaves as it sang.

I returned to the perimeter track to find the diver was now relatively close in, diving and feeding on the alien Signal Crayfish that infest the reservoir to the detriment of our indigenous crayfish. It would surface with a crayfish in its formidable bill and shake it vigorously, softening it up, sending bits of disintegrating crayfish flying through the air before what remained of the unappetising crustacean was swallowed whole. One can only presume the diver's stomach must have powerful digestive juices to dissolve the carapace and armouring that protects the crayfish.

I watched the diver consume a number of crayfish before it settled, obviously with appetite satisfied and floated idly on the water. 

The sun came out briefly making the diver look very different
on the blue water

It closed an eye and slept and I ruminated on what a strange existence it must be to spend almost your entire life on and underwater apart from dragging your body a few feet onto land in order to nest at the very edge of the water.

This individual will not breed this year as it is only in its second year of life and as such retains its juvenile plumage of dull grey brown upperparts and silky white underparts.It will only be when in its third year next Spring that it will assume the glory of fully black and white adult plumage.

How long this bird will remain at Farmoor is unknown but surely will not be longer than a month, probably less. We will have to wait and see but in the meantime it is welcome to remove as many of the alien and invasive Signal Crayfish as it likes.

Black Grouse in Brief 23rd March 2026

A planned visit to a Black Grouse lek in North Wales did not work out as we planned. Mark has had some serious health issues, the treatment of which has resulted in the onset of an infection of his bladder that got progressively worse as we headed for Wales but we pressed on. The booked hotel was cheap and it showed and we were the only two guests on a Sunday evening in Llangollen. The town was dead but we nevertheless found a place to eat as the hotel was unable to offer us anything.

Neither of us slept much that night but as planned we left at 4.30am to be in position on the moor before dawn. Driving along the road that bisects the top of the moor Red Grouse flew from the car's headlights. Not the most aerodynamic of birds, one careered crazily towards us in the glare of the headlights and barely missed the windscreen, sheering off at the last moment.

The darkness was complete, not a light to be seen for miles and with the window open the air was cold on the side of my face.

We arrived at the approximate site of the lek and sat in a dazed silence and waited for sounds of the Black Grouse arriving unseen in the darkness.For a while all we heard were Red Grouse, calling from both near and far across the sensed rather than seen heather moorland and then a Snipe joined in. 

A wheezing, athsmatic sounding call signalled  the arrival of a Black Grouse to be quickly followed by others.Then the distinctive cooing bubbling calls commenced as the still invisible birds began to display.

The darkness lost some of its intensity and the grouse morphed into indistinct but visible black shapes, each separate  on its own particular lekking patch and woe betide any other grouse that trespassed.

The light of dawn began to penetrate the darkeness further and the white feathered bottoms of the grouse were visible as the birds moved and displayed. Slowly they materialised as the retreat of night gathered pace until we could see them clearly in our bins.

We counted eight males plus a greyhen (female) that soon departed. The last time I was here there were eighteen.I fear the worst as there is no protection for them on the moor apart from a voluntary code of conduct that birders and the public are requested to observe.

Their display seemed desultory from how I remembered it from my last visit.A couple of minor fights ensued but were quickly abandoned and then the birds seemed to go quiet with one bird apparently giving it up as a bad job, sleeking its feathers and commencing to feed. Maybe it was early in the season or the lack of any females that dampened the male's ardour.

Still it was too dark for photography. Mark was suffering and had to leave the car to relieve himself. It was no good and we realised that we would have to abandon our visit and drive home.

We agreed to spend half an hour with the grouse and then leave. The sun would not have risen by then and any hopes of worthwhile photos had to be forgotten but Mark's welfare was paramount.The grouse could wait until another day

With the light improving all the time I attempted to take some images but had to set the camera's iso to a whopping 26300. The result was just about passable and fifteen minutes later I could drop the iso to half that as the light improved.

Thirty minutes was up and we left. En route home Mark called his local surgery and it was arranged for him to go straight there and to give a sample and get some anitbiotics.The drive was a stop start nightmare as Mark had to try to relieve himself every thirty minutes but we got there in the end. 

We were home by 11am and once Mark was fully fit plan our return to Wales and hopefully get some decent images and spend some quality time with this now increasingly scarce bird

Mediterraneans at Hayling Island 19th March 2026

I left Greenham Common (see my previous blog) around 10am having successfully encountered a Dartford Warbler and rather than return home buoyed by my success, decided to make a day of it and drive further south, all the way to Hayling Island on the coast of Hampshire.

It is a pilgrimage I make most years in March, to enjoy another of nature's spectacles, this one centred on the long defunct Hayling Oyster Beds, of which only the bunds remain, separated from the land by a narrow channel of sea which provides security from human or animal interference for a large concentration of gulls . In 1996 Havant Borough Council to their immense credit designated the bunds as a local nature reserve that is now managed by the RSPB. 

For a brief period in Spring the bunds are thronged with hundreds of both Mediterranean and Black headed Gulls, the former congregating to display and form pairs, before moving into nearby Langstone Harbour to breed whereas the Black headed Gulls will remain to nest on the bunds which attract birders and public alike to enjoy the sound and spectacle of a gull colony in its full exuberant flow.

Most of the noise it has to be said comes from the Black headed Gulls, forever squawking and complaining, creating an endless background of harsh sounds which although tuneless to our ears somehow feels an  appropriate adjunct to the birds breeding frenzy. The Med Gulls punctuate the wall of sound with overriding yelping, exclamatory 'meow' cries making them sound as if constantly surprised.

Hayling Oyster Beds and its congregation of gulls holds many memories for me, perhaps the most poignant being the time I went at a period of great fear and uncertainty as the country awaited the arrival of  the covid virus that was sweeping inexorably in our direction from China and no one knew what was going to happen but were left in no doubt it was going to be very bad and our human world would turn upside down and never be the same again.see here

I remember driving to Hayling listening to the early morning news just before covid arrived on our shores and a feeling of dread and anxiety enveloping me as I headed for possibly the last time to Hayling Oyster Beds to enjoy the beauty of the gull colony not knowing when if ever I would see this or any other such spectacle again. It was a time, as I said, of great fear and uncertainty but sitting on a bank of grass in the sun later that morning and watching the annual ritual of the gulls going through their unchanging routine brought a sense of stability to my scrambled brain and I felt able to face whatever was coming with fortitude.

Today, five years hence was thankfully different, although now the horrors and madness of war in The Middle East, driven by an indicted war criminal in Israel and a disgrace of humankind sitting in The White House was another cause for anxiety. From my covid experience I knew that the Med Gulls would again be my salvation and calm my troubled mind.

The weather was nigh on perfect, sun, blue sky and a gentle breeze from the north east. Arriving at the tiny car park I found it predictably full on such a pleasant sunny late morning but after a short wait a space was relinquished and I parked my car.The sea and sky were almost as one in blueness as I took the track out to the bunds. As I reached the colony a shock of sound hit me amid a forever moving flurry of white above and around the bunds as birds flew back and fore or stood on the rocks or gravel. 

A scene of ceaseless, constantly changing activity was before me as gulls came and went, fought and bickered, displayed to potential mates or settled on the water as if to take a break from the freneticism on the bunds.You could easily sit here and never be bored as the movement and noise was an unending play that had no beginning or conclusion. And all for free!

The display of the Med Gulls, mainly enacted by the males involves much bowing and ritualistic posturing, the poses exaggeratedly slow and deliberate and forever entertaining.

Some of the Med Gulls have colour rings attached to their legs from various European study schemes.Today there was at least one with such a ring. and an inscription that indicated it had been ringed in Belgium.

The original ringer sent me details of the gull's history - see below

It was ringed as an adult on the 19th of May 2025 at PuttenWest,Kieldrecht,Beveren,Oost-Vlaanderen, in Flanders, Belgium. It was then seen from the 22nd of August to the 13th of November 2025  on various beaches in Finistere, Brittany, France before I recorded it at Hayling Oyster Beds on the 19th of March 2026.

I sat on the grass by the sea as a deep contentment settled over me, looked over to the bunds and took as many images as I felt happy with, chiefly of the Med Gulls. 

Call me biased if you wish but in their breeding plumage they are for me one of the most beautiful gulls in the world and apart from all black heads and crimson bills, look angelic, almost ethereal in an overall white plumage and palest of grey backs, flying against the blue green of the sea or cobalt blue of the sky.

For two hours I enjoyed, nay revelled in this spectacle. An annual re-affirmation and confirmation if needed that despite the current awfulness of our human world and all the worry and concern it engenders, here at Hayling was the ideal antidote in the knowledge that whatever may happen, the natural world will continue regardless, whereas we may not and I take great comfort in that.

Dartfords 19th March 2026

Thursday and with the dawn came the promise of another Spring day of mild temperatures and sunshine. Last night I had mulled over how to take full advantage of this week of benign weather and decided to head for Greenham Common in the neighbouring county of Berkshire.

The incentive was to encounter the Dartford Warblers that have replaced the bombers, live there year round and now should be busy setting up territories for the upcoming breeding season.

It all seemed so simple and straightforward.

I set off early from my home, driving south for an hour on a chilly early morning in order to get to the Common at 7am which would grant me a couple of hours before the inevitable dog walkers arrived at around 9am. I have a theory that many of the dog walkers, being women, turn up at this hour presumably after having seen husbands or partners off to work and the kids off to school. It really is quite noticeable how many fit this profile..

I was in fact a minute early getting to the Common and had to wait for a warden to unlock the barrier to the car park at 7am sharp but once in I parked up and with camera and bins headed off into a virtually deserted reserve. My primary focus when visiting Greenham Common is on the former main runway, its 1.9 miles now reclaimed by nature and home to a profusion of fauna and flora and at this time of year a blaze of golden yellow flowering gorse as far as the eye can see.

Now one would not unreasonably expect Greenham Common with such a plethora of suitable habitat to hold many Dartford Warblers and it may well do but locating them for some reason, possibly unique to Greenham, is far from easy while other places such as Thursley Common in Surrey and The New Forest in Hampshire prove much easier places to encounter them.

Despite regular visits, only once before have I seen Dartford Warblers well on Greenham Common and that was through sheer luck and only for a few minutes see here

I wandered the considerable length of the runway but heard not a note of its scratchy little warble or sight of its tiny form atop a spray of yellow gorse. Why are they so silent and shy at this time of year when all other birds are singing for all they are worth?

Woodlarks and stonechats were not a problem, making themselves very obvious by singing from exposed perches or in the case of the Woodlarks also flying on high, in circles, broadcasting their beautiful song from the sky. Of the Dartfords there was nothing until I caught the briefest of glimpses of one perched in the bare twigs of a birch sapling standing proud amongst the gorse.It remained in the birch for a few seconds and then was scared off by a Meadow Pipit and dived back into the gorse.

That was the sum of it.

Another factor that inhibits any searching for the Dartfords is that much of the Common is quite rightly out of bounds from the beginning of March to the end of July to allow ground nesting birds to have a chance of breeding successfully, so pursuit of any Dartfords, should you see one in the gorse is usually not possible. It's just a shame that some dog walkers do not care to take much notice of the signs asking for restraint or make any attempt to control their dogs.

After an hour of aimlessly walking back and fore hoping to catch a brief snatch of song but hearing absolutely nothing I was in mild despair and considering leaving. The runway area with its main gravel track down the centre is very popular with the public especially dog walkers and maybe the Dartfords, skulking and shy by nature are deterred from making themselves obvious or maybe that is just the way Dartfords are, preferring a brief sortie to the top of a gorse bush or twiggy sapling, to sing for a minute and then retreat into the re-assurance of the dense gorse. They really are an enigma. Who knows why.. What is irrefutable in my experience, is that on Greenham Common they are extraordinarily difficult to find let along photograph.

I persisted with my searching but I was losing motivation fast as it looked increasingly unlikely I would be successful. I returned to the 'turning circle', a wide circular area of tarmac where in former times the planes would stop at the head of the runway before takeoff, adjacent to the control tower nearby which is now an exhibition centre and cafe manned by volunteers

The Common also runs for a long way in the opposite direction to the turning circle with a large area of gorse close by which is accessible and this was my last slim chance of finding a Dartford. I had found one here on my last visit a few years ago, again after a long, dis-spiriting search, so maybe lightening would strike twice.

There was only one way to find out.

For thirty minutes I saw or heard nothing.Twittering Linnets were busy reconnoitering the gorse and a Woodlark's mellifluous notes came from afar. I slipped down into a sun warmed alley of golden, pepper scented gorse and then I heard the unmistakeable song of a Dartford Warbler close by. It repeated its short song, over and over but where was it? Finally I saw it as it moved up to the top of a bare twig. I moved closer and it continued to sing. An exquisite tension took hold of me. After all the searching here  was a Dartford but would it remain as I crept closer. Please do not fly away. Please.

To my immense relief it remained where it was and eventually flew but only to perch atop a nearby explosion of yellow gorse flowers. 

The classic pose that embodies the very essence of the bird. 

Perfection.

It never remained in one place for long but moved around the gorse giving occasional bursts of song and mainly perching in the open as if to survey its surroundings.

It was briefly joined by a female, presumably its mate but she soon flew a distance away to another area of gorse while he remained and slipped down into a sheltered sunny alcove of gorse twigs to idle and commence a spell of feather maintenance, his brown upperparts and dull reddish brown underparts rendering him almost as one with the spiky tangles of dead gorse and convoluted branches. 

,

He flew to another fist of gorse flowers. perching there to give a brief snatch of song and then was gone.

It was over.

I never saw or heard him again despite waiting in vain for twenty minutes or more. Nor did  I see any other Dartford Warblers despite searching other areas of the Common for another half an hour.

It seems so strange that they sing and show so intermittently on Greenham Common or maybe I am just unlucky.