Old Frank 17th March 2017

A morning of sunshine was made less enjoyable by a strong, bitingly cold westerly wind as I commenced walking with Dai up the Causeway of Farmoor Reservoir. A Little Egret stood close to us by the water's edge, its all white body dazzling in the morning sun and now showing the delicate, long aigrettes on its lower back that only appear during the breeding season and from whence its name comes. 

At the furthest end of the Causeway it was calmer, more sheltered from the wind and a flock of some fifty Sand Martins, newly arrived, hunted insects in twisting, roller coaster flight  over the water but soon moved on, flying indomitably into the wind.

Dai and myself parted company and I made for the Hide at Pinkhill which would afford shelter from the cold wind. Ensconced in the Hide on my own, I relaxed and looked out on the familiar scene of Pinkhill Reserve with its sedge and reed periphery that encompasses a small expanse of clear water in its centre.

Reed Buntings, Great and Blue Tits were busy below the feeders that are situated just by the Hide, picking up fallen seed on the wet margins. Four Gadwall were pecking at a large patch of weed out on the water. Three males and a female, two of the males trying it on with the already paired female whose partner fended off the amorous rivals with the occasional lunge, voicing its objection with a ridiculous duck decoy call that substitutes, in a Gadwall's world, for the traditional quack. The drakes in their breeding plumage and when seen from a distance look drab and it is only on closer examination of their plumage that the subtle beauty and complicated vermiculations and matching of colours and patterns becomes apparent. The female is very much like a female Mallard but has an orange lower mandible and a grizzled, less strongly patterned head, similar to the drake

Male Reed Bunting

Drake Gadwall

Gadwall pair

Two other ducks near to them, dull brown and unremarkable had me looking closer, only to find they were two female Wigeon which are unusual here. Tiring of the disturbance from the ardent Gadwalls they swam languidly away before finding some quieter water where they put their bills into their scapulars and went to sleep.

Female Eurasian Wigeon

It was going to be a quiet day on Pinkhill. There was no sign of any of the Water Rails which have been such a feature here for the last few weeks but are now much more circumspect about coming out into the open due to the recent conservation work having removed a large proportion of the encroaching sedge that they loved to hide in.

Why is this blog entitled Old Frank? Well that is an old country name for the Grey Heron and is onomatopoeic in that 'frank' sounds a bit like one of the heron's commoner vocalisations. Most of us are familiar with the Grey Heron as they are not inconspicuous and come into contact with us in varied situations be it in  parks, on rocky seashores, raiding garden goldfish ponds, roosting like grey statues in grass fields or rising unexpectedly from lakesides or ditches in which they have been hunting. They nest colonially in trees and can be very obvious, as the nest is built and eggs are laid well before the leaves have come out on the trees.There is a nesting colony on the main island at Dix Pit near Stanton Harcourt, which is not too far from Pinkhill and probably that is where the heron that regularly visits Pinkhill comes from and of which I am going to relate an encounter.

Grey Heron

Looking idly at the dead reeds on the far bank, illuminated by the sun and reflecting golden on the water, my eyes focused on a Grey Heron that stalked into view, up to its belly in the water, wading slowly but with purpose before coming to a halt opposite the Hide. It stood absolutely still, could it see me or was it looking for its prey? I dared not move and for a minute or two it was in the balance but then the heron allayed my concern by craning a long sinuous neck and pointing its bill at the water. It was clearly intent on fishing, a picture of concentration and focus, still as a statue with its long neck and narrow head projecting its formidable bill towards the water's surface. 

They are large birds, almost the size of a Golden Eagle and  fly slowly, in almost stately fashion, on broad, bowed and rounded grey wings, contrasting with their otherwise angular and thin body, all neck and legs. The neck, sunk into the shoulders in repose uncoils like a snake and at its fullest extent can extend the head and bill a considerable way out over the water in readiness to make a lightening stab at any unfortunate fish that should swim too near.

The heron was not having much success as a series of unsuccessful lunges, where its entire head was submerged before being retracted and shook free of water, evidenced, but its persistence was eventually rewarded when, with another unleashing of neck and bill it hit the water with a splash and its head re-emerged with a fish in its bill. The unfortunate fish was very unlucky in that it had almost evaded capture as the heron had only just seized it by the tail but there was no escape from the mandibles grip and there would be little doubt about the inevitable outcome.

The fish was a small Perch, its red fins, olive body with darker bands, distinctive and clearly visible in the sunlight as it hung from the heron's bill and no amount of writhing and twisting was going to save it. The heron stood for a while, as if contemplating how to get the fish into its throat without dropping it back into the water. It moved a few tentative steps in the water towards the sedge and reeds, as herons will often take a fish such as this to dry land so it cannot escape and they can deal with it more easily. But this was not an option here as there was no suitable dry land, just water, sedge and reeds.

It stood for a little time more, looking slightly ridiculous with the fish still hanging from its bill, a baselisk eye in its narrow head, pitiless and devoid of  expression, staring bright yellow in the sun before suddenly, with a dexterity that belied its size, released the fish but before it hit the water caught it again sideways and not without some difficulty swallowed the fish whole, moving the fish down its throat and neck with a series of jerking gulps.

The passage of the fish down its neck was clearly evidenced as a slowly descending bulge before it was gone. The heron stood motionless in the water for a minute, no doubt savouring the fish and then resumed fishing, its hunger still not abated despite the size of the fish it had swallowed.

Gulls, Gulls, Gulls 11th March 2017

A Mediterranean Gull was the first ever real rarity I saw in Britain. It was an adult in full breeding plumage in 1976, frequenting the unlikely inland surroundings of Stamford Green Pond, at Epsom in Surrey.

Mediterranean Gulls were, up to 1950, very rare in Britain but since then, as their population increased rapidly in their core breeding areas around the Black Sea and central Turkey, they expanded westwards to Hungary in 1953, followed by Germany and Belgium in the 1960's and the Netherlands in the 1970's. Further expansion has resulted in birds breeding in Denmark, Sweden, Estonia, Switzerland, the Czech Republic and the Balkans.

A pair first bred in Britain  in the large Black headed Gull colony at Needs Oare Point, Hampshire in 1968 followed by a pair at Dungeness in 1979. Since then the number of breeding pairs in England has increased steadily so by the year 2000 the number of pairs was 100 and by 2010 there were getting on for 700 pairs, mostly on the south and south east coasts of England. The number of pairs is probably considerably more now but nationally no  co-ordinated count has been made since 2010. This gull is also now frequent on the southern British coastline in winter as it is along other parts of the Atlantic coast in Europe.

Appropriately, as they first bred in Hampshire, I made my way on a misty and cold early morning to Hayling Island just within Hampshire and to Hayling Billy Local Nature Reserve in particular, which is based around some former Oyster Beds that date back to Roman Times. Since the eighteenth century various attempts, with limited success, have been made to make them a viable commercial enterprise but these always ultimately failed until in 1996/1997 they were finally turned into a local nature reserve which is now owned and managed by Havant Borough Council.

The former Oyster Beds at high tide

The rocky bunds that surrounded the former beds now form a major part of the reserve and are a protected site for Black headed and Mediterranean Gulls as well as for breeding Little and Common Terns which arrive later after many of the gulls have paired and moved on to breed elsewhere. At this time of the year there is a large pre-breeding assembly of Mediterranean Gulls gathered on the two largest bunds, bickering and fighting as they pair up prior to a minority breeding here whilst many others will move on to various colonies along the south coast.The bunds now encompass a tidal lagoon and when I got there the tide was rising and almost full.

The bunds-all that remains of the retaining walls of the Oyster Beds

A chilly east wind was blowing off the sea and the horizon was lost in a white mist as I walked along the muddy track from the small car park and out to the bunds. Two Rock Pipits flew along the bleak shoreline and fifteen or so Dark bellied Brent Geese, yet to set off northwards on the first stage of their migration to the staging post of The Waddensee, fed amongst the seaweed on the shore. I could hear Mediterranean Gulls calling above me, hidden in the opaque whiteness of the morning mist and sky.

There is always a thrill on encountering a gull colony such as this. As you get nearer the cacophony and constancy of noise becomes ever more insistent and incredible in volume, the ceaseless raucous, grating, peevish calls of the Black headed Gulls are interspersed with the yelping, yodelling calls of the Mediterranean Gulls. There is also endless activity as birds fly up and away from the colony either singly or in pairs, calling loudly, some flying off whilst others circle and return to land amidst the throng of gulls standing on the tops of the bunds. Watching the Mediterranean Gulls it was not really apparent where they were flying to, although they looked to be flying further out into the adjacent Langstone Harbour but just as many returned as departed. Consequently there was a constant procession of  Mediterranean Gulls flying past and over me, back and fore, their dazzling whiteness blurring the outline of their wings against the sky

A strange ethereal light was emanating from a diminished sun that was being filtered through wraithes of mist as I walked to the extreme northern point of the lagoon where a channel between the shore and one end of the outermost bund allowed the rising tide to pour through in a burbling, foaming, inexorable ingress, slowly swelling the seawater levels inside the lagoon. 

The shoreline and the sea coming in on a rising tide through the open channel

I sat on a grass bank by this channel, almost at sea level, out of the wind and some thirty metres from the end of one of the two most populated bunds. The majority of gulls I could see were Mediterranean Gulls, standing on the rocks, many in full summer plumage whilst others still displayed grizzled black hoods as the white feathering of their winter plumage was in the process of being replaced by the black of summer.

The bird on the right although an adult has yet to attain its full black hood

Mediterranean Gulls

They are arguably one of the most beautiful of gulls when in breeding plumage. Marginally larger than a Black headed Gull they have a ghostly pallor about them as their flight feathers when adult are pure white and the grey on their upperparts is paler even than that of the Black headed Gulls. The ultimate glory is their head which in summer plumage is entirely black with a red orbital ring around the eye, encompassed by broken white crescents above and below the eye. A slightly drooping bill of deep crimson red with a yellow and black tip adds to the beauty of their form and plumage.

Where I chose to sit was away from the footpath and any possible disturbance, as today being a Saturday, the footpath was being made frequent use of by the dreaded dog walkers. I was left to myself, probably un-noticed as I sat inconspicuously below the bank to conceal my presence from the nearby gulls. I sat, taking inumerable photos of the flying gulls, no easy task as they wheeled surprisingly quickly across the lagoon or sky in front of me, to then turn into the wind and descend with lowered crimson legs and feet into the truculent, resentful throng of those already stood on the bund. 

At other times I just sat and watched the endless activity of the gulls commencing their annual breeding cycle. You can never be bored with the birds constant adopting of strange attitudes, with the bowing, displaying and squabbling of both species, with the flights of gulls circling around the colony only to land again and immediately go into elegant contortions of courtship, with the formation flying of pairs as they strengthened the pair bond between them. All this and more kept me forever interested. It was non stop, exhilerating in a way, watching these beautiful gulls, never still or quiet for more than a second or two.

An estimate was made a few days ago of the numbers of Mediterranean Gulls here and it came to in excess of four hundred and fifty and I could well believe it. An incredible sight and so fortunate that it is so readily visible, free and easily accessible to anyone who is interested. 

I came away elated after sharing my morning with the gull colony. The coming Spring, despite the slightly gloomy conditions, was never more evident.

Lesser Celandine

By now it was noon and as I was on the border of Hampshire and West Sussex and it was only half an hour's drive away, I decided to make another visit to Broadfield in West Sussex to see how the Rose coloured Starling was progressing. It has been at Broadfield in the same back garden for almost four months and now is in adult plumage and even singing but still  remains ever faithful to its favourite tree in the tiny back garden at Beachy Road.

The drive took me inland across West Sussex and once away from the coast the cold misty conditions changed rapidly into a warm and sunny day. Sussex was at its best and banks of primroses and daffodils by the roadside or briefly glimpsed in sunlit woods only served to lift my spirits further as I passed over the South Downs, 

I duly arrived at Beachy Road and after a five minute wait the starling flew up into the now famous tree, posed for around ten minutes and then promptly flew off and away from the garden. 

A wait of nearly forty five minutes ensued before, just as suddenly as it had departed, it returned and dropped down through the branches of its favoured tree to feed in the back garden, then flew back up into the tree to spend fifteen or so minutes perched there before once again flying off.

It's a bit of a nightmare trying to photograph the starling as it loves to sit well inside the tangle of branches and twigs of the tree but somehow I managed eventually to get a reasonable image of it. Although in adult plumage, the pink colouring has a brownish caste and the black feathers are rather dull with a slight greenish gloss. Only if it survives to undergo another moult will it gain the glossy black and bubble gum pink plumage of full adulthood.

A nudge came on my shoulder. I turned and there was Ads, a long time colleague who lives in Sussex and was the illustrator of 'Stonechats'. It had been a long time since we last met so it was a good opportunity to have a chat and a catch up. The perfect end to a perfect day.

Farmoor Cameos 9th March 2017

A wonderful Spring like day of sunshine and blue skies beckoned me out and about this afternoon.I needed little persuading and rather than travel out of the county I resolved to remain local and chose Farmoor Reservoir and its surrounds for my birding today.

Of late Farmoor has hardly been hitting the headlines with only a Black necked Grebe visiting for a day last week. Today the reservoir's concrete banks played host to many more fishermen than normal and it looked like there was some sort of competition going on. This scuppered my initial plan which was to try and photograph some courting Great crested Grebes, as the grebes alarmed by the presence of so many people had retreated to the middle of the reservoir and courtship was the last thing on their mind.

A pair of Tufted Ducks were, however, close in and looked an absolute picture on the blue waters of the reservoir as I walked up the Causeway

Tufted Duck pair

As an alternative I made my  way to the Hide at Pinkhill but before I got there I met Dai who told me that earlier he had seen a single Sand Martin over the reservoir, and that there was a Barn Owl currently flying around by the Thames Path at the back of the reservoir.

I made my way to where the owl had last been seen and almost immediately found it flying high above me in the blue of the sky. It dropped lower and quartered the grass banks of the reservoir surrounds and the scrubby areas of Shrike Meadow, keeping to the shorter green grass rather than the overgrown dead vegetation in Shrike Meadow. Presumably the shorter grass made hunting a little easier although in the twenty minutes I watched, I only saw it stall and drop into the grass once and that was unsuccessful. Eventually it headed away over the trees and off towards Pinkhill Lock. A silent assassin that for now had failed to find a target.

The pressure must be on to feed its young, hence its appearance just after two in the afternoon in full sunlight. They always give me a thrill when I see them, their startling whiteness and ghostly, erratic quartering flight unlike any other bird, and here they are safe to hunt, not threatened with death by speeding traffic or any human interference apart from irresponsible photographers, sadly a growing phenomenon in Britain these days

Side on the profile looks front heavy as the huge head, with its pure white, heart shaped face dominates, sweeping back to a thin body propelled and buoyed by broad wings, the flight feathers creamy white with a series of symmetrical darker marks on the feathers creating indistinct lines across the open wings, the rest of the upper-parts orange brown with  grey infusions and sparsely scattered black spots. Its formidable feet and claws extend just beyond the tail and are only lowered when, in anticipation of a strike, it hovers above a suspected vole or mouse. Its eyes are dark pools in the white face.

Barn Owl

With the disappearance of the Barn Owl I walked along the path towards the Hide at Pinkhill meaning to sit awhile in there and wait for the emergence of a Water Rail but just as I was passing the Thames Water works building a rapid tchay tchay tchay call had me stopping to look at a small hawthorn tree. It was exactly here many years ago that I saw a pair of Willow Tits, now all but non existent in Oxfordshire but this call was not quite of them. It was quicker, lighter in tone and less pronounced. It could be a Great Tit, often the default species whenever a strange passerine call is heard. I looked closely and a small tit was just visible in the tangle of  hawthorn twigs. Checking through the bins I could see a body with fawn upperparts and creamy buff underparts and a head with an extensive black cap. It was a Marsh Tit.

It flew further along the path and disappeared into a hedgerow but then another, presumably its mate flew into a hawthorn  just in front of me and posed just long enough to allow me to take its photo. On checking my photos later I found it was ringed on both legs with a metal numbered ring on its left leg and a strange looking black contraption on its right leg. I sent off the details to Euring who handle such things and received a detailed reply from Henri Bouwmeester to whom I am most grateful. Henri and Dr Richard Broughton who responded via the Oxon Bird Log told me it was a PIT ring which is a transponder in a glass case protected by black plastic. The transponder is used to record the presence of the bird. In most cases a 'passage-gate' is placed in a certain position, for example at the entrance of a nest box or regular feeding area. The 'gate' is made of a loop of copper wire and when the bird with the transponder passes the gate a bleep will record it and send a signal to the data collector. In this way you can record for example how many times a bird is in the area or when placed at the entrance to a nest box during the breeding season, how many times an hour the bird will be feeding its nestlings. Richard also told me it is undoubtedly from the EGI Oxford University scheme at Wytham Woods which is just a few miles away.

I must confess to having been totally ignorant about these transponders but now I know, thanks to Henri and Richard

Marsh Tit sporting a BTO ring and a transponder 

After all this excitement I slowly wandered back to the Hide at Pinkhill. Much work has been done around the small reserve here lately and a brand new fence has been erected around it that looks very smart. A party of four Bullfinches, three males and a female were discreetly nibbling buds at the tops of the small trees overhanging the path. They always seem to be here and I suppose the in-numerable tender emergent buds on the small trees must be the attraction.

I sat in the Hide and noted that much of the encroaching sedge on the reserve has been dug out to make clear water again so this probably put paid to any chance of sighting a Water Rail although I heard one calling nearby. A few minutes later an adult Grey Heron stalked into view out in the clear water. It was up to its belly in the water and regally proceeded towards the Hide but was wary and knew of my presence. It flew past me, nervous of the Hide's open viewing slats but landed in deeper water at the other end of the reserve and seemed happy enough to remain and fish there. 

This bird was surely from the colony breeding on a large island in the lake at nearby Dix Pit. Grey Herons breed early and it would now have a nest. At this time of the year the heron's impressive bill turns a delicate shade of tequila sunrise pink and orange as part of its courtship plumage but it only remains this colour for a brief few weeks before reverting to its normal olive yellow.

Grey Heron

The hours had passed un-noticed and it was time to leave and walk back down the Causeway to the car park as the sun sunk behind the clouds and the light gently faded in the late afternoon. Black headed Gulls were already assembling to roost out in the middle of both reservoirs and as I walked onwards four ducks, in close formation swam out from the edge of the Causeway. 

They were Common Goldeneyes and will soon be heading north to breed. Maybe even in Scotland.

Common Goldeneye

There were three females and one drake, the latter resplendent in his black and white plumage, all of them with a staring, golden yellow eye from whence their name comes and the females with bill tips also dipped in gold.