The Dove From Above

Wandering around the nature trail at Connah’s Quay last week I happened across a severed leg on the ground with a ring attached.

Initially, I thought it was a wild bird that had been ringed by ornithologists, but KLJ in full CSI: Flint mode suggested it was a pigeon’s leg and therefore probably a tagged racing bird.

The numbering and lettering read WHU D07749 and so off to the interweb it was. Assuming that it wasn’t the property of West Ham United or the Welsh Hockey Union, I settled on the Welsh Homing Pigeon Union. For some inexplicable reason they omit the ‘pigeon’ from their acronym – the most crucial part I would have thought.

Lying barely a hundred feet from the Peregrine’s nest it doesn’t take Columbo (or should that be Columba) to deduce the probable cause of death. Clearly the falcon was the owner of a very discerning palate as it had left the leg in favour of the far superior breast – and I swear the blood was actually red wine gravy.

I had initially considered notifying the relevant fancier, but given I imagine the general consensus around the coops is not too positive towards the record numbers of Peregrines breeding in Britain I will probably keep schtum.

Until later.

P.S – There is a rumour that more hardline sections of the Welsh Homing Pigeon Union unhappy with the tolerant attitude of its committee are plotting to get rid of the current board. The suspicions of Chairman Bryn Hughes were aroused when an entire lorry load of pigeons were overheard saying “Coup, coup, coup” when he was driving them to a release location in North Wales.

The Big Mig

With my sister whimping out of a slog up Carnedd y Filiast, a less strenuous route across the sublime wilderness of the Migneint was a decent second option.

The term ‘austere beauty’ was invented for this place with miles and miles of rolling moorland, crowned by the imperious Arenig Fawr. Apparently this is the largest area of blanket bog in Wales and thus is absolutely superb – and relatively unspoilt – habitat.

Having said that the best birds today were viewed from the roads – a pair of Red Kites on approaching Ysbyty Ifan and a female Merlin that zipped past the car when we had parked up to start our walk further down the valley.

The walk itself was a fairly easy stroll up to the old farmhouse of Cefngarw. That said, we made a complete hash of finding the bridge that crosses the Afon Conwy and it was only after an incredibly friendly farmer had pointed us in the right direction that we were on our way.

Birding was a little slow when we had eventually reached the track, with the standard moorland fare of Meadow Pipits, Ravens and Buzzards all that was on show. Then, from nowhere, a Red Kite appeared and very obligingly afforded us a close view of its aerial mastery in the gusty winds.

When we reached Cefngarw the heavens opened – something of a surprise to my sister whom had taken the best part of the weather forecast – ‘sunny spells’ - as the prevailing conditions and dressed accordingly, thus choosing to ignore what any of the other ‘spells’ may bring. Ray Mears would not have been impressed!

The old farmhouse must have acted as something of a bothy in years gone by, although judging from its appearance visitors are now few. This is a great shame, because a couple of night up here in the spring could be magical – and you would see the ‘fresco’ of a large ram too.

Although no Hen Harriers or Short-eared Owls were seen today – perhaps not surprising at the fag end of the breeding season – they surely must be here. And I wager a few other goodies too…

Until later.

Hola, Hola, It's Good to be Back

Well, the old internet is finally up and running!

I had forgotten how difficult this writing malarkey can be sometimes, so I’m not sure where to start. I suppose today is as good as any.

With the wind from the north west it was probably a good idea to do some seawatching from the Point Of Ayr today. Henceforth, I did precisely the opposite and sauntered up to the site of the old hide and back over the high tide.

Plenty of Sandwich Terns were screeching around, but probably most notable was the large number of Oystercatchers that are starting to build up – I have seen them reach formidable numbers here in early autumn.

Minus telescope there wasn’t much scope (sorry, bad pun), for picking out anything unusual, but with the sun shining on my back and an abundance of butterflies at large it was one of those occasions to sit on the bench and feel like a king.

Incidentally, one Grayling on the path today – never seen them down here before, but them again I have never looked until this year!

On another thread, it is worth mentioning that Connah’s Quay is particularly good at the moment with big numbers of waders using the bunded pools – something that regrettably isn’t always the case.

Wont be too long before the Black-tailed Godwit flock reaches its full compliment down at Oakenholt. Catching them all in flight from the west hide at high tide is to me the quintessential birding experience on the Dee and there isn’t too long to wait!

Until not as long as last time.

A month is a long time in birding...

Well it all seems to have been happening whilst I was away on my jollies.

Unsavoury shenanigans at Shotton NR, rumours of some work actually being carried out at Inner Marsh Holiday Camp and last but by no means least, evidence that the RSPB has not forgotten about the Point of Ayr as they have actually erected a sign pointing to the bird hide.

Naturally, there is no evidence of the 'Cuddfa', but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Not much else doing at the POA, but a couple of Common Sandpipers milling around the small area of marsh behind the colliery site was good, plus there were plenty of Little Egrets bozzing about between the various channels.

Connahs Quay was a little better with the same number of Common Sands, plus the first late summer flush of returning waders: Greenshank, plus good numbers of Redshank and Dunlin were present to augment the over-summering Blackwits.

Until later.

Sierra Nevada

Hola,

Sorry for being a little thin on the ground with posts recently, but after my protracted house move I have been indulging in some serious rest and relaxation in Andalucia, Spain.

Despite being accompanied by the Leicas this time, it has only been over the last couple of days that I have had chance to do some birding - in the sublime and thankfully cool Sierra Nevada mountains near Granada.

At a shade under 3000 metres there is still large areas of snow on the tops, despite temperatures in the cities being ´hace mucho calor.´

Birding is fairly hard going at this altitude with only a handful of species recorded. By far the most common bird was Northern Wheatear, followed closely by a sizable population of Chough.

More interesting birds included a couple of Black Redstart, an Olive-backed Pipit and most notably excellent views of an Alpine Accentor feeding amongst some large boulders.

It was butterflies that stole the show though. I must have logged at least twenty different species including Sierra Nevada Blue, Clouded Yellow, Painted Lady, plus varities of Argus´, Frittilaries and a superb Spanish Marbled White.

Hasta Luego...