Shopping for Dippers 1st April 2026

April Fools Day and I went shopping with Mark to a well known superstore in the neighbouring county of Gloucestershire. 

However the shopping we had in mind was not of the food variety but for a bird we do not get in Oxfordshire unless in very exceptional circumstances, having personally only seen two in the county during thirty years of living in Oxfordshire. I speak of Dippers, Britain's only aquatic songbird and suspect their absence in Oxfordshire is due to the rivers being generally slow flowing and not possessing the rocks and shallow stony rapids over which fast running water tumbles and that are so beloved of Dippers.

We parked in the superstore's car park, secreted deep in a valley and walked across a busy road and then downhill to a fast tumbling stream come river running below an ancient viaduct across which trains still pass. 

We came to a natural hiatus at the riverside where the track continues over a narrow bridge spanning the river with the roar of white disturbed water from a waterfall tumbling over a rocky ledge filling the gorge with sound and of such force and dominance that it echoed from the high banks on either side of the torrent and deterred any conversation. 

Downstream the water swirled and eddied, calmer but remaining fast flowing. The only sound to penetrate the noise of rushing water was the song of a Wren, its volume coming from such a miniscule frame a marvel and trumping even the waterfall's rage. 

We are alone and immediately see the Dipper perched on a flat rock by the waterfall and which, on seeing us pauses briefly before flying low and fast upstream and out of sight. 

The best that can be said is that we have seen a Dipper, the first of its kind this year for both of us and so it can be added to our year list but there is surely more to come from our visit than this.

Mark follows a track downstream that runs close beside the river  and finds a Kingfisher.The banks either side of the river rise high and steep, creating a cathedral like gloom where we stand at the bottom amongst strap like ferns and trailing ivy. Great trees have fallen, victims of the past winter's rain and wind that has undermined their root's shallow hold on the steep earthen banks, leaving enormous broken and contorted boughs and smaller branches to lie like bones abandoned on the banks from top to bottom. 

Still growing trees bower the river with spreading branches arching over, the first vibrant green leaves emerging in a delicate filigree while yet more fallen branches, faded pale and rotting lie aslant in the river, forming miniature dams which the irresistible water rushes under, over or around.

We returned to the Dipper's rock and find it is back but this time there is no evidence of alarm at our presence and the bird allows us to approach closely so long as our movements are unhurried and give no cause for concern.

It stands on its rock and feels so at ease it raises one foot into the feathers of its chestnut belly to stand by the tumult of water, in total harmony with its surroundingd. This is home for the Dipper, the topography become familiar, every nook and cranny of the river known, learnt and memorised to provide sustenance and a guarantee of ongoing survival.

Eventually he commences to sing. His song is loud, necessarily so in order to be heard over the exultant 

rush of water but the waterfall subsumes even the most clarion like of his notes. I can clearly see his bill opening as he sings but only an occasional  louder whistle penetrates the sound of the fast flowing water and reaches my ears.

He sings on, happy and content and plumped up on his favourite rock, his positioning granting him surveillance of this particular stretch of river, his domain, his territory. At intermittent intervals the bird appears to wink at me but this is of course a misperception. A Dipper has distinctive white eyelids which contrast with the chocolate coloured head and act as both a means for the bird to wipe its eyes and a form of display.

This site is known to many people, birders and general public alike who come to see and photograph the Dippers or merely stop a while to admire the waterfall and perhaps the Dipper too. For a brief moment he is joined by his mate, flying in from downstream and he goes into an ecstacy of display. spreading his wings and fanning his tail. Then the two of them fly to the nest site, inaccessible and well hidden.

We spent ninety minutes in the male's company and left him as we found him, perched on a rock contemplating the rushing waters while we returned to a world far removed from this idyll.