Crag Martin at the Crooked Spire

After moving back to York a month ago, I finally got the opportunity to get to Spurn for the weekend, just in time for the tail end of the hurricane to hit the UK. Arriving at 10:30 I nipped into the wetlands, stopping at the car park for a while to watch a short eared owl quartering the field across the road. From the hide there was only a dunlin, redshank, and a flock of brent geese, and after 20 minutes I decided to head down to the reserve. 

There wasn't much moving there either and the clouds were brooding. I wandered down the point past the wash-over, but the beach was bare and the waders well dispersed over the exposed mud, so I turned back north. As I walked between sea-watch and the Blue Bell I could see another SEO over Canal Scrape, but aside from a couple of goldcrests at beacon lane, that was as fun as it got. I forged onwards to the lagoons, hoping for snow bunting on the beach, but no luck; then the rain hit, and I enjoyed a damp half hour trudge back to the obs. The persisted brizzle was quick to soak me through and turn my thoughts first to hot drinks and drying off, then to curries and pints.

Sunday started dismally; as the rain tailed of at 9 the next morning we stood on the cliff top, counting through the siskin, goldfinch, redpoll and twite. There was little moving on the sea, just a few divers and auks, but I did pick up my first little gull on the Humber. All last week I had been looking at the reports of crag martin at Chesterfield, but had not had the opportunity to get on the road. After fidgetting at sea-watch for half an hour in the hope of something exciting I cracked, said goodbye to everyone, and hopped into the car. 

Two hours later I'd parked the car and found the small crowd off birders at the church. As I arrived one car was leaving for the stadium, where the bird had been most recently sighted, but it suddenly appeared round a building and began circling the church.

I watched the bird for just over an hour as it made quick passes around the crooked spire, only once vanishing across to the stadium. Luckily the rain held off, but unfortunately for me the bird was just to fast for me and my poor camera. I did get a couple of records, but none of the real super-shots that I saw on the LCD's of some of my fellow twitchers. Still, one closer to 400!

Tail spots just visible

Buff under-side

Chaos in Crete

A belated post following a workshop on storytelling in science education Rachel (FSC Scotland) and I were running at the European Marine Science Educators Association conference in Crete. Cushy right? 

I'd gotten a little preparatory reading done and, as far as I could tell, the Heraklion area was not the buzzing hub of Cretan bird life; but after a drab Scottish summer and the short winter nights on the horizon, I was certainly ready for a chance to be out in the warm (hopefully not too warm). I was also aware that spare time would be incredibly limited, so I set my sites low with hope of a handful of new species: maybe a shrike or two, or a new heron, perhaps a red-throated pipit... 

On the first day there was the usual disappointment. The venue were nowhere near fresh water, there were very few birds on the surrounding wires, the scrub was filled with sparrows... As we walked along the sea front I failed to spot a single gull or wader. Inside, I was grumbling... too warm... bloody heavy camera... gotta be a dry river bed somewhere...

We eventually reached the aquarium, our venue for the week, and I got my first hints of wildlife. In amongst the ubiquitous sparrows, a few crested larks and pipits foraged... not much, but a start. 

Crested Lark

prob. tawny pipit

The next day I cracked it. Look up. As I sat dejectedly with a coffee I watched a falcon come in from the sea. Then a flock of egrets go over. Then purple heron. Three hooded crows. Over the break I ticked of a further four species before giving up and immersing myself in the haze of networking and strong coffee that is the conference day.

Unfortunately that was abut it, aside from the flyovers the real highlight was the incredibly confiding kingfishers that worked the little inlets along the beach. But there was so much promise in the hills that loomed on the horizon, covered by low scrub. When I return I'll be heading to those hills (more prepared for the hot weather), with warblers in my sights. Until then I have the memory of strong coffee, friendly delegates, and the promise of doing it all again next year in Belfast.

Storytelling workshop

The Brampton Bee-Eaters

On the way back from York I decided to nip in on the bee-eaters that set up home just outside Carlisle. Two pairs had set up burrows amongst a thriving colony of 500 sand martins in an active quarry. The RSPB had wisely suppressed their presence until the eggs hatched, however, one of the nests failed due to a cliff slide. Since news of the nest was released the remaining pair and their helper had been incredibly popular.

When I arrived today the quarry couldn't have been more like the Mediterranean; the weather was warm and windless and the steep quarry sides radiated the heat back - it was baking. In my eagerness to get to the view point I passed three groups of slogging birders heading up the slope, and by the time I reached the first stop I was toasted. 

Happily, one bird dropped in as soon as I arrived, and the adults were visiting the nest every 10 minutes or so. Not only that, we had great views of a hobby hunting martins over the quarry. I snapped away for an hour before heading back to the car for the last 4 hours in the car.

The pictures aren't amazing as the birds kept their distance from our side of the valley, but the views were great. 

Spot the Crake....

Guess who's had time off!? Me that's who.

I dove down to York to see Matt, but on route I went to Goole. Well near Goole. I headed to Blacktoft RSPB reserve in search of spoonbill and spotted crake... Well, as usual, I dipped on the spatulate white one. But I catch up with the crake, after only 45 minutes watching too. See if you can spot it as well!

Squint a little, its obvious

Too difficult? Try this one....

One closer to 400!

Today I headed over to see the folks at Spurn. I knew there was a wryneck around; more importantly,  there was a spoonbill on the Humber. Driving in I ignored the masses pacing the hedgerows outside Rose Cottage and headed straight for the Warren... but, again, the long legged git had hopped it. Despondent, I went for a wander around the triangle (I'd find my own bloody bird), and as I returned to the car - passing the other birders - the wryneck hopped out into the road in-front of me... I didn't know whether to be smug or annoyed... but I did get this great size comparison. Oh well, maybe I'll get one over the weekend.

Back on the Coast

This month I am back in Millport, teaching everything from willow weaving to snorkelling... Thankfully I still have a couple of days off to enjoy being home. During the week I had been watching the reports come in from the area, and on my first free day I decided to nip down to Troon to see the Iceland gull that had been hanging around the harbour. 

It was a nice clear morning and it only took me half an hour to reach the harbour, but despite checking the fishmarket and local beaches, I couldn't catch up with the bird. Thankfully I was kept entertained by the fabulous black guillemots. Despite usually being skittish, the birds were remarkably tolerant of my presence and focused mainly on squabbling amongst themselves, and I spent a good hour with them and the camera.

There had been a flock of Mediterranean gulls ust outside Troon at Meikle Craigs, so I took a wander that way to see if they were still around. I was in luck, the birds were still there, although the tide was in and the birds were sat on the distant exposed rock. As the tide dropped I managed to inch forward along with it, distracting myself with passing dunlin and gorgeous summer plumage sandlerling, as well as sandwich, common and arctic terns.

I waited the entire tide to see if the distant birds would join the others now washing themselves in the freshwater run-off, but no joy. They circled the distant craig, but stayed put. I made do with snapping away at the terns, before the weather closed in and I headed for home. 

Curious Tern

Blyth's Reed Warbler...

So last week Tom (the other blonde birder) and I made ourselves a bet. 400 before 40. That's over ten new birds a year for both of us... So when I saw that the Inverurie Bylth's reed warbler was still showing this morning, I hoped in the car and drove the two hours into Aberdeenshire. 

Arriving at 10:30 I met Jim (a local birder) who had been on site since 8 that morning. He'd met up with folk who'd seen the bird earlier, but hadn't gotten a look in himself. The bird was reeling away in the pines across the river, so we settled in for the long haul. 

After half an hour of staring at nothing we were joined by another couple, and just a few minutes later the bird dropped into view, showing in the bare branches at the bottom of the pine before climbing out of site.

Over the next few hours we were joined by about ten others, all twitching at every hen chaffinch and becoming steadily more angsty... After another 2 hours of nothing, a few of us decided to go grab a quick bit to eat, 25 minutes away, no more. Confident that there would be no good views in the near future, we headed back up the river to the cars. Well, you know what happens now.

On our way back from snacking we pass another birder who had given up and headed for the car. The internationally accepted migrant invite for a good long show. Then, of course, we saw one of the other birders running back along the track. The bird was singing out in the open. After a mad dash along the tow-path I got a slightly longer scoped view on this occasion and that was all she wrote, having only had a half pint of smoothy and a garage sandwich all day I headed for baked brie and cider at home. 

I didn't manage any pictures, so here's one of a poplar hawk moth that was hanging around outside my classroom this week.

This is what happens when your classroom lights are on all night!

Tactical errors.

On Friday afternoon I decided to take a walk around the hill, wanting to stretch my legs and work off some of the week's cake intake. The forestry path winds its way through the forestry land, and always has good numbers of siskin, coal tit and mistle thrush, along with green and greater spotted woodpecker, deer and red squirrels. It was a warm climb considering the overcast weather, and I stopped often for water. On my third stop, with the ground levelling off, I heard crossbills in the distance. Hurrying on, I broke into a clearing where I could see roughly 10 birds feeding in the surrounding trees. As I watched, another 5 birds joined them, then another 12 went over, and suddenly they were everywhere. Cursing my lack of camera and bins, I tried to pick out the birds in the pine tops. With the young out of the nest the birds were frantically feeding and moved ahead of me through the trees as I ambled onward, never allowing a decent view. 

I  getting used to the sound of so many crossbills around me, when a dark shaped skitted across to my right. A big dark shape. I couldn't believe it, I had walked right up to a pine marten at three in the afternoon. Unbelievable luck, had I not have slowed down for the crossbills I would have flushed it as I approached. I froze, the animal had gone behind a bush. Its path would bring it out onto the road about 5 meters ahead of me. Grabbing my phone from my pocket in the event of its sudden reappearance, I waited. 

I wasn't waiting long, a minute later it appeared 15 meters up the track. I snapped some classic Nessie-quality shots before it loped off into the treeline. Feeling elated I continued the further hour and 15 minutes around the hill, seeing another three large crossbill groups. 

Classic phone camera bluriness

This morning the weather was overcast, uninspiring; but with a flock of crossbills so big moving around and the chance of anther pine marten encounter, I picked up the camera and headed for the hill. I was very aware of the extra weight in my bag as I climbed the forestry track, but was distracted by green woodpecker and cuckoo. As the trees got denser I slowed, listening for the tell tale chirp of feeding crossbills. I had just gotten to the flattest section of path when I heard the first bird off to my left, then two more. Hesitantly I picked my way along a deer path to a clearing. And there were my birds.

There were around thirty five altogether, moving between the tall conifers and lower, less dense scots pines. I snapped happily away at anything that would come close enough, but a second disaster fell. Battery outage. After my session in the pine marten hide I had neglected to recharge the batteries... Cursing inwardly I watched as the birds continued to feed in the trees, youngsters flying up to harass the adults at the cones. As I gave up and turned for home, the weather added insult to my camera-based injury; the sun finally broke through the clouds, bathing the tree tops in a warm glow.

Sat at home I went through the pictures... no sterling shots, but now all of them were stinkers. At least you can tell what these are!