Under the Radar

I have not done much ‘serious’ birding recently, with various domestic projects having supplanted any urge I have had to get out.

Still, there is plenty of entertainment to be had surfing the web, with the most pulsating and compelling thread that of the technical photography discussion that accompanied the 453,958 pictures of Starbucks’ Buff-breasted Sandpiper on the NWBF.

One serial snapper had boasted that he/she had taken 565 images – who says that there is no skill in photography anymore?

For my part, I have never seen a ‘BBS’, but the prospect of sitting in a confined space with the associated racket of bleeps and clunks was more than enough to put me off.

Perhaps a quiet corner can be found at the new RSPB Burton Mere Wetlands that I learn is due to open it doors on Saturday morning at 9.30am.

Even more surprising than the fact that is has actually opened, is the rather low-key nature of the announcement.

A notice on the Dee Estuary website reads:

RSPB Burton Mere Wetlands will open to the public on Saturday 24th September at 9.30am. More details to follow.

Whereas, the Inner Marsh Farm blog is of similar brevity:

Burton Mere Wetlands Opens Saturday 24th September.

You would have imagined the opening of a ‘new’ RSPB reserve would have been carried out with a little more fanfare rather than a brief announcement a couple of days in advance.

Conspicuous by its absence is any reference to a closing time. It was always rumoured that the old ‘sunset’ deadline for being booted out would be replaced by a more businesslike 5.00.

Also of interest will be the nature of the ‘viewing facilities’ down at the reserve. The RSPB seems to be moving away from traditional hides in an attempt to attract a broader range of people to its reserves – especially children.

Hell, they probably won’t even call them bird reserves soon: Wildlife And Nature Kindergarten Engagement Resource Solutions would be my guess.

Until later.

Copper load of this...

Sorry for the poor image taken on my mobile, but I am not in possession of 80-400 Nikon vr lense - whatever the chuff one of those is.

Anyhow, the cultured amongst you will have no doubt concluded that rather than being a piss-poor picture, it is clearly a subtle and brilliant pastiche of French Impressionism.

Cobblers aside, the Small Copper that graced my Ice Plant yesterday afternoon was the undisputed highlight of what has been a dreadful summer for butterflies in my village.

Plants hitherto unknown to me such as Phlox, Verbena, Red Valerian and the immensely handsome Teasel (a plant that I am developing an unnatural fixation with) have been lovingly installed with the express aim of turning my garden into a veritable 3 Star Michelin restaurant for bees and butterflies.

It didn’t happen though. Whilst quite a few bees have remorselessly plundered my Borage and Lavender, butterflies have been conspicuous by their absence.

Then, yesterday, out of the blue, Fortuna’s Wheel spun upwards and I was blessed with the beauty above and four Small Tortoiseshells; the latter all feasting on the Verbena – a plant that had until now been studiously ignored.

A little research on the Small Copper seems to reinforce my good luck – it is in a group of butterflies that do occasionally visit gardens, but infrequently.

Perhaps there is a small colony nearby, for there is certainly a fair amount of Wood Sorrel growing in a local wood – one of the primary larval food plants for this species.

Fingers crossed next year for a Wall Brown – my favourite butterfly and just as beautiful as the Fritillaries, whom with their gaudiness and high maintenance are quite frankly a bit ‘The Only Way is Essex’

Until later.

Jeepers Treecreeper!!! (Smiley Face)

Sergeant Major Murphy is a tough taskmaster, so it was out the house early on Saturday to mix with fellow crepuscular elements of humanity such as insomniac dog-walkers, dirty stop-outs, keen paperboys and well, birders.

With the hope of encountering some migrants, we concentrated on the dunes and paddocks behind Presthaven Gulag and after a rather slow start, things began to pick-up around the small copse close to the static ghetto.

A ménage a trios of Stonechats and a few skulking ‘Phyllos’ warblers kept the bins interested, but the most interesting migrant by far was a single Treecreeper – not a very familiaris (a gag that will surely have you 'race' nerds rolling in the aisles) bird at Talacre and my first for the site.

The actual paddocks area was more productive with Wheatears perhaps nudging into two figures. These were accompanied by a host of commoner birds including Meadow Pipits, Skylarks and a solo juvenile Reed Bunting.

After spending twenty minutes poking around an old farm house looking for evidence of any visible Owls, it was off to the old colliery site for an appointment with the tide.

At eight and a half metres, it was enough to push all and sundry to their favoured roosting spots, but despite a good variety of waders that included a quartet of Turnstones, a Greenshank and a Whimbrel, none of the currently ubiquitous Curlew Sandpipers were on our radar.

The sea was quiet (although things should heat up here early in the week), with just a handful of Terns; two of the birds were of passing interest – one seemingly in possession of a very dark bill with a lighter base.

Roseate? Probably not and it was too far away to be sure, to be sure.

Until later.

Where were you?

With the strong winds entering a third day, the lure of a seawatch at the Point of Ayr was just too strong.

Given that I am still without motorised transport, it was time for the bicycle to make an appearance and after forty five minutes free-wheeling downhill I was ensconced in the dunes by first light.

Initial signs were encouraging: many Terns, Manxies and Gannets were battling against the strong westerly wind. The Manxies in particular were visibly jaded, with most of the birds unusually lethargic – the last few days had obviously drained them of energy.

With so many seabirds passing by it was surely a matter of time before a Skua or a Petrel made an appearance, but two and a half hours later I was still waiting.

I was about to call time when I picked up a gull just behind the Dee Light. I was hard to be one hundred percent due to the distance, but it looked good for a juvenile Sabine’s Gull, but without conclusive views, a young Kittiwake could not be ruled out. Ho Hum.

After loading up the panniers, I headed over the site of the old hide (now sadly looking very overgrown), for a quick scan of the marsh.

The tide was a good way out, so the waders were scattered far and wide. Still a Whimbrel was good and a flyby Kingfisher a welcome boon before the long slog back to Lloc…

Until later.

Well, it was here just a second ago...

An early morning excursion to the River Clwyd was the order of the day and despite the trying conditions, a handful of decent birds were rinsed out of the gloom.

It could have been worse had the forecast rain materialised – I say ‘forecast’ here in the loosest sense of the word given the recent BBC meteorological soothsayers have been about as reliable as a dodgy Lancia (or 02 plate Vauxhall Astra for that matter).

Anyway, the strong wind (again, not forecast) made things a little tough, especially for somebody as nesh as me. I’ll shut up about the weather soon, but being British it’s in my blood.

The assembled waders were also a little skittish, probably due to the bone-chilling autumnal gusts driving across the estuary. (There I go again, I just can’t help it).

However, brave soldiers that Tony, Mark and I are (not that there are many cowardly ones - I think they tended to be shot by a firing squad), we battled on and located a couple of Greenshanks and a lonesome juvenile Knot.

The main shorebird shenanigans were further up opposite the mouth of the Gele though, so after losing Tony hors de combat, a quick yomp further up the river was the order of the day.

And it paid dividends too – the waders were within a stone’s throw from the cycle path. After hunkering down on an old tree stump it wasn’t long before a juvenile Little Stint was winkled out from the Dunlin and Ringed Plover.

It darted about like a toddler on e-numbers, hence the lovely image above. It was the first one I had seen for over two years too and the closest I have ever seen one. Grand.

And did I tell you about the weather…

River Clwyd 3.9.11

1 Little Stint (juv)
3 Greenshank
1 Bar-tailed Godwit
50+ Dunlin
50+ Ringed Plover
1 Bar-tailed Godwit
1 Knot
1 Snipe
3 Goosander
1 Sparrowhawk
1 Wheatear
14 Turnstone


Until later

Klan Ringing Group

Whilst browsing the ‘We Bird North Wales’ site - the new birding webpage for refugees from the NWBF – I cam across perhaps the most bizarre birding image I have ever come across.

It was from the SCAN clamping group after yet another of their highly scientific and effective ringing sessions at a swallow roost.

Quite what the taker of the image had in mind I can only begin to speculate, but one thing it did remind me of was the rather macabre images a certain organisation from America’s Deep South used to release after carrying out one of their infamous lynchings.

I then scrolled down to a picture taken from last year's Christmas Party and I did begin to wonder…

Until later.