For once it had stopped raining but a chilling southeast wind made sure there was no complacency on my part and I ensured I was well insulated against the cold.It often requires a long wait until a Kingfisher arrives in front of the hide and slowly you find yourself becoming ever more chilled even though sheltered from the worst within the hide.
Not unexpectedly I had the hide to myself and I tookup position on a cold bench of unforgiving hardness and looked out onto a familiar view.Well I say familiar but with all the recent rain and with the adjacent River Thames only metres away in full spate, what was normally a relatively small area of water had now become a veritable lake.
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Oh well this would not affect the Kingfisher so I settled into my vigil.
The bird feeders hung from an Alder, now isolated by surrounding water, was doing good business with a succession of Great and Blue Tits visiting but again there were no Reed Buntings which have been noticeable by their absence so far this winter.
Mallard and Teal were making the most of the extensive flood, the Teal in particular already getting into courtship mode with a gathering of half a dozen excited displaying males, dipping heads and upraising tails around a couple of females, the male's distinctive whistling, cricket like calls ringing out across the shallow water they were swimming in. A Moorhen's abrupt frog like croak came from the reeds and once only I heard the grating squeal of a Water Rail emanating from the impenetrable fastness of a stand of dead reed stems.
Fairly early on I saw a Kingfisher but instead of coming to fish from the post in front of the hide it perched high in a tree at the far end of the flood. Electric blue, it shone like a star in the winter bare branches and then flew off. I was philosophical. I now knew a Kingfisher was around. Sometimes you can sit here for hours and never see one. This brief sighting had granted at the very least a glimmer of hope and cause for mild optimism.
I sat in silence, mentally freewheeling as I thought about many things but if you asked me afterwards what those thoughts were I could not tell you. Very strange. An involuntary amnesia.
With comparatively little to see one becomes attuned to the various bird calls you can hear from outside the hide. Often the high pitched whistle of a Kingfisher is the first indication of its pending arrival but not today. Instead I became aware of a rapid. constant twittering and trilling from high in the Alders to the left of the hide.The volume of sound signifiying the presence of many birds.
I knew this sound for what it was, a roaming flock of Siskins that had lately arrived in the Alders to feed on the cones and leaving the hide I went to the nearby trees and looking up could see many tiny bodies silhouetted against the sky, nimbly moving amongst the branches and twigs. I estimated there were about forty to fifty, a good sized flock, acrobatically, hanging from the thinnest of twigs to get at the cones and extract the seeds. These birds do not breed locally but many Siskins come to Britain from northern and eastern Europe, forming flocks which roam the countryside, never remaining in one place for long.
Constantly active the birds moved further into the trees and closer to the hide and so I returned in the hope I could see them from there Maybe even get to photograph them if I was lucky.
The twittering ceased. Silence.The flock had moved on.
Another thirty minutes elapsed and then the twittering commenced once more from the same Alders. Another flock of Siskins or was it the same flock as before? It was impossible to tell.
Adjacent to the left of the hide the flood water had penetrated into the willows and a large area of bramble.Earlier I had noticed Blue Tits coming down to drink here, using the bramble and trees as cover to sip some water before flying back up into the trees where they felt more secure. A Siskin also put in a brief appearance amongst the mesh of willow stems but was always frustratingly partially obscured and soon departed.
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| Siskin Corner as viewed from the Hide |
Then another small bird flew to perch on a thin branch just above the water. Another Blue Tit? But no it was a female Siskin which perched in the open, ultra cautious and circumspect, checking all was safe before descending to drink. For a species such as a Siskin that spends virtually its entire life in the tops of trees descending to the ground is fraught with danger but descend it must if it wishes to drink so the act needs to be acccomplished as rapidly as possible once it is convinced it is safe to do so
Looking at the female as she seemed to hesitate forever there was little sign of the bright yellows that adorn parts of the male's plumage, just a shadow of pale lemon on the sides of her face and on two prominent wing bars.Overall she looked grey and non descript and was very much in concord with the grey willow branches she had chosen to perch on. I found myself thinking if only a male were to present me with such an opportunity as this.
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| Female Siskin |
Birds follow one another's actions and as she perched low on her branch a flash of green and bright yellow took me by surprise and there right before me on a bramble spray perched a male Siskin, small and dapper, his citrus yellow breast almost fluorescing in the winter sunlight. My wish had been granted.
Adult male Siskins are extremely attractive.Their plumage mirrors the colours of the sun shining through the pine needles and branches of the mainly coniferous trees they inhabit rendering them well camouflaged. This bright male was joined by another, less intensely coloured and the two perched on the bramble still uncertain whether to commit to dropping down to the water's edge. .I dared not move but pointed the camera from within the hide and hoped.The two birds remained on their perch and then one turned to reveal a bright yellow rump, yellow flashes on each side of its tail and two yellow wing bars complemented by a moss green back and a natty black skull cap. Exquisite is a much overused adjective and don't get me started on that birders favourite word 'stunning' but I can think of no better word than exquisite to describe its delicate beauty
All thoughts of Kingfishers were forgotten as I made the most of this unexpected opportunity.I have never been this close to Siskins before and like so many times when enjoying the natural world it was sheer chance that had presented me with this delight.
The Siskins were only present for five to ten minutes at the most before they silently flew up into the trees and the Alders fell silent as the flock flew off to find another feeding opportunity.I remained another half an hour in the hope they or others might return but I knew in my heart they had gone for good.
Now with no extraneous diversion the chill in my bones asserted itself with a vengeance.
Two hours and my body told me I was time expired and I departed the hide.
The Kingfisher would have to be for another day
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