Actually bird-related

One of the comments from the last post made mockery of that fact that this blog is called Wanstead Birder. I can see why. So, rather than another right-wing rant (though Raymond, if you're reading, I am still cross) I thought I might actually write about birds wot I have seen. And there have actually been quite a few.

Jubilee Pond

If you live in the UK, you will not have failed to notice that it's been a little bit nippy of late. As I stunningly predicted, this change in the weather caused a little bit of bird movement. As I have been doing almost daily, I checked the Basin on the way back from the school run. This is probably the deepest body of water in Wanstead, and generally freezes last, so it's always a good shout for something good. Usually therefore it produces nothing at all, however on Wednesday, what should be bobbing about with the massed Gadwall but two drake Wigeon. Get in, as they say - just about annual, though I have gone a year without seeing one. I immediately texted out the happy news, and my message crossed in mid-whatever it crosses with a message from Nick about a Lapwing flying somewhere near my house that I wasn't at. Then he rang, with news of 12 Lapwing briefly on the fairground flats (where shortly there will be a large police station). I had one last scan, during which I didn't pick up a Smew hiding, and high-tailed it home there to start work look out of the window for Lapwings. It didn't take long, and my third quick glance out picked up five or six not really going in any direction at all. A little later I picked up a further ten heading west, God knows how many I might have seen had I been able to stare out all day, or better still, actually get out on the Flats. Mind you, for patch year-listing purposes, one is good enough.

The following day, Thursday, the Wigeon were gone, but I added another 15 Lapwing - my cup overfloweth - I've now seen stacks of Lapwing in Wanstead, and most of them have been from the house. On both days I picked up a GBB Gull, as well as one this morning whilst on the way to the bus, and on Wednesday I also got a presumed Meadow Pipit, very unusual at this time of year. Still no Geese or Swans, but the longer this big freeze continues in Europe, the more chance I have got.

Habitat in use

This morning I was back in Canary Wharf. Another clear day, I had high hopes of adding Lapwing, but I only managed half an hour and didn't see any. It did turn out to rather fantastic though, as just as I was heading back into the office a finch flew over my head. It didn't call, but it had seemed quite chunky, which meant it was good. I eventually tracked it down to the trees around Westferry Circus and was delighted to find three Greenfinches, two males and female. When was the last time you were delighted to find a Greenfinch? Seriously, birding a wasteland can sometimes be pretty cool. I was sure that it had to be a patch tick, but on consulting my impeccable records, it turns out I saw 11 on January 5th 2009. 11? Wow! How I have no recollection of them at all, I have no idea. Mega.

This Black-headed Gull was so cold it allowed me to get ridiculously close with just a 200mm lens

Trudge trudge slip trudge

Another few hours this morning on the patch seeing not a great deal. Snow still everywhere, and the ponds still don't know whether to freeze over or thaw. Shoulder of Mutton and the Basin have no clear water whatsoever, Jubilee and Alex are fast approaching that state, yet Heronry has more open water on it than at any time in the last week. Consequently it holds the bulk of the wildfowl, though as yet, nothing that I and the other local patch workers have had cause to go "ooh" and "aaah" about.

Oh, apart from the Black Duck that is. I'm pretty sure that's what it is. A teensy voice in my head is saying that American Black Duck shouldn't any white on the breast, and that it's actually a dodgy Mallard, but I reckon it's much more likely to be a genuine vagrant that's just had a bit of an accident with some fresh paint.



Our two semi-resident Egyptian Geese were also on Heronry, and what better way to keep warm than to get down to business? Honestly, poor Mrs Egyptian Goose. There she was, doing her best to keep out of the icy water, when suddenly Mr E G pushes her in, grabs her neck to pin her down, and then climbs on top of her and starts going for it. I don't think I'm giving anything away when I say that Mrs L wouldn't stand for it, but maybe geese are different? Didn't last for more than about ten seconds, but happily for the loving couple a photographer was on hand to capture the moment. I don't think Mrs L would stand for that either...

Mrs is on the right. If only geese could talk..........

The park looks fantastic in the continuing snow, but it was actually pretty quiet on the bird front. The rest of London seems to be overflowing with Waxwings and grey geese.  Crayford had not only Waxwings, but also White-fronts, Beans and Pink-feet this morning, Kev must have thought he had died and gone to heaven. Mark at Stoke Newington got some more White-fronts, as did the guys at Wormwood Scrubs, and even Des got some out of his window several storeys up in central London, but so far none of them have reached Wanstead, or at least not that we have detected. For me, the best birds of the day were a group of six Tufted Duck very distantly from one of the upstairs windows. This is only the third house record, and at the time I thought it was only the second so got very excited. Still, it trebles the number seen up to this point, so is still worthy of mention.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Snow.

The Big Picture on the Inner Thames

In cold weather, London birders seem to gravitate towards the river. It is usually even colder by the river, but there is a chance of good birds and that is why we do it. I had five layers on today at West Thurrock, which was just about sufficient. I don't know how cold it was, but my right little finger was the worst affected. I think I need to fatten it up.

As the snow was pretty extreme (by wussy London standards) I took the good ship Eco One, though in the event I reckon even a Honda Jazz could have made it - the problems may come later when a partial daytime thaw then gets frozen again overnight. Still, it was pretty fun to slip into low ratio and power down Coldharbour Lane at 20mph in fifth.

I picked up Nick from outside my house, which was extremely convenient, and then a short hop north for Bradders and we were on our way - destination the picturesque riverside at West Thurrock where we were taking part in a coordinated Inner Thames high tide wader count - basically checking all the known roosts to see "the big picture". I don't have the full results yet, but it seems that everyone got out despite the weather, so we will indeed know "the big picture". I have no idea if "the big picture" has any scientific merit, but it has been well over a year since I have been able to say "the big picture" quite so often in such a short space of time, and as I may be heading down that route again I thought I should start practising.

Highlights at West Thurrock were two female Scaup, and a flock of 59 Avocets that may or may not represent a record count for London. I'm reasonably interested to know if it is, but not so fascinated that I am going to wade (da-dah!) through a century of LBRs. They were all bunched up on the river and surprisingly difficult to count, and our multiple attempts ranged from 56 through to 62. We arrived at 59 three times when they were a little bit more strung out, so are calling it that. Bird recording is all about accuracy.

After getting properly cold we returned to the car, and this being West Thurrock, were pleased to see it still had all four wheels and a complete set of windows. A quick stop for heated comestibles was much needed, and we roared into Rainham at around 2ish hoping to connect with the three Smew that Kev had first seen from Crayford early morning, and that had then been seen from various locations on the north side. There was no sign, in fact the river was pretty dead, gulls notwithstanding. After about thirty minutes we were just about to pack it in when Nick exclaimed "There they are!", and sure enough, there they were. Three redhead Smew, drifting down on the falling tide. I managed one predictably awesome phone-scoped shot, and then they flew east down the river, appearing to drop down near the RSPB Visitor Centre, though it was rather murky and we could not relocate them. A superb Rainham ever tick, and my 163rd for the year, they were on view for all of about a minute. Jam jam jam.



I'm back home now after six and a half hours outdoors on the coldest day of the year. I've had two cups of tea and some noodle soup stuff (cheap oriental cuppasoup equivalent, six for a quid), and am feeling much better. The temperature is predicted to drop to minus eight tonight, and remain below freezing all of tomorrow. I think the children and I will stay home, play games, and watch DVDs.  Unless someone turns up a monster seabird, in which case I will drag them kicking and screaming to see it.

In which I attempt to turn my child into a popsicle

My God it's cold. I didn't realise quite how cold it actually was, and decided it would be a good idea to go and look at Heronry Pond with Pudding. Parenting fail. I have since learned that the maximum temperature in Wanstead today was -1C, and that the wind made it feel more like -8C. I had only counted up to 46 Pochard when a small pillar of ice told me that she had had enough. One look at her convinced me that she had indeed had enough, so we hurried home, and, bar the school run, didn't attempt anything as silly again for the rest of the day.


This is a bit of a shame, as these conditions have seen some absolute corkers turning up in London today. There have been between three and five Pomarine Skuas, first Andy and co had three up the river past Rainham, and possibly two of them were seen later on over Hampstead Heath. Johnny and Dodge at Beddington had 14 Bean Geese early on, which were then picked up over Rainham a bit later. Sticking with Rainham, a juvenile Iceland Gull was seen, and H had two Waxwings were briefly in the carpark. The hard-working window-gazers magazine publishers at the Birdwatch offices picked up some Waxwings in addition to their flock of Pintail from yesterday. Meanwhile at the Wetland Centre a flock of Eider was reported, and Des picked up a Goosander in Hyde Park. Steve B found some more of these were at Fairlop with a Red-breasted Merganser. Sorry if this sounds like a Birdline South-east round-up, but all of these are fairly impressive birds in London and deserve a mention, as do the hardy birders that found them. Meanwhile in Wanstead I contributed a Lapwing. This is an excellent bird for Wanstead, but hardly the stuff of legend.

   It was standing on the edge of the ice on the Basin, which I had stopped briefly to look at on the way back from the park. Smew is what I really wanted, but I must confess to being fairly appreciative of the Lapwing, my first on the deck in the Park. I don't keep an "on the deck in the Park" list by the way, but I know that it is the first. I'm that kind of well-rounded individual.

We'll see what tomorrow brings, but there could be some judicious long-range scoping of reservoirs from high vantage points (with parking) where Pudding can stay in the nice warm car. Ditto Aveley Bay, where with any luck that Pom Skua will still be hanging around. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, you know I posted about multi-author blogging the other day? Well in a complete coincidence - no really - I received an invite to participate in one only a few days later. Looking at the other authors, I can't help thinking that this is some kind of email cock-up, but I said yes very quickly before the error was spotted, and now have a password and everything. So, another opportunity for me to fill more of the web with drivel, which I hope to be doing soon. The concept is relatively simple: thought-provoking topics mulled over by about thirteen different people, none of whom know each other - or at least I don't know any of them - and all of whom may have different opinions. And, it goes without saying, different skill levels. Very different skill levels.....We're allowed to disagree with each other and everything, and using pseudonyms, bitch like hell and generally cause an online riot discuss things in a mature and sensible manner. I think that's the general idea. Hopefully these discussions will appeal to a wide readership of online birders, and if they too want to comment, then fine, though snide posts from anonymous scallywags will get the treatment. It's called The Crow Council, which makes me a Crow I guess. It will be excellent, so bookmark it now. I wonder if I can make a special video......

The Onset of Winter Birding

There has been a lot of net chat about the death of autumn and the early onset of winter, as demonstrated by the early invasion of Waxwings and northerly winds. Generally people seem upset, but I am not one of them. I've been looking forward to a change of scene for some time. Of course, come February I'll be moaning about the everlasting winter and getting excited about my first Wheatear, but right now, the change in the weather strikes me as just about perfect.

In terms of the patch, I reckon I've seen just about all I'm likely to see in terms of autumn specialities. As each week passes, that Yellow-browed Warbler or Red-breasted Flycatcher becomes increasingly unlikely, and my thoughts start turning to interesting Ducks and rare Finches. That said, since Shetland it's been difficult to get out there and do it justice. My early morning jaunts are no longer possible due to it being dark, and weekends have been spent birding on the coast - my choice. I've managed a couple of mornings on the Flats, and a few viz-mig sessions from the garden, which whilst relatively productive, have lacked anything new.

This week is half-term, so no serious birding is planned. Today, for example, has mostly been spent playing Snakes and Ladders, building Lego, and shopping. Live the dream. In between these activities I looked at the sky for about half an hour. This short stint produced only the second Skylark to actually enter garden airspace, and yet another Pied Wagtail, the fifth garden record. The wonders of listing. If Nick's reports from the Flats are anything to go by, Pied Wags are everywhere at the moment, which would explain why I've had three in the last fortnight.  Pretty exciting I can tell you, though you probably needed to be here....



Slightly further afield, my London list has stalled, mainly due to my apathy at continuing to press forward with it. I've added Lapland Bunting and Penduline Tit to reach the dizzy heights of 202. Whoopee. I passed up on a couple of Great Grey Shrikes due to not wanting to drive anywhere, and I missed yet another Spoonbill and Hen Harrier this weekend, which had I been camped out on the sea-wall at Rainham....

Nevermind, it's not important. I've very much enjoyed birding the capital this year, I've discovered several new sites, and added a pile of species to my London list, which is important. Very. And anyway, the year isn't over yet, though a couple of days ago I caught myself thinking about January 1st 2011, and was forced to give myself a very severe dressing down....

One Swallow doesn't make a Summer

Yesterday I saw my first Swallow of the year. It flitted over the garden as I was having lunch, and made me happy. Anorak owners will be interested to know that this is a full eight days earlier than my previous earliest record. Time to break out the shorts and sunnies? Er, no. Time to break out the fleece-lined trousers and wooly hat. The original meaning of the proverb, well, who knows? The literal meaning? Spot on.

It is FREEZING again. I was assaulted by a bitter wind on the school run, and the rain came at me sideways. The amber "It's quite cold" warning light came on in the car. It seems to have got worse since I got back, so perhaps on the pick-up the red "It's really cold" one will come on?

Honestly, this is intolerable. We have just had the longest, coldest, darkest and most miserable winter that I can remember for a very very long time, and as soon as the clocks go forward, it's like January all over again. Cold, dark, wet mornings. I'm sitting here in a fleece with a steaming mug of tea. I've had a look out of the window at my poor plants. I have an Araucaria tree from Brazil, a relative of the Monkey Puzzle, that spent the whole winter in hibernation in the greenhouse at the end of the garden. I put it back on the terrace about ten days ago, but at this rate I might have to lug it back there down again. I didn't think I was being premature, I honestly thought we were all done.



Needless to say I have not seen any more Swallows today. If they have any sense, they will have turned tail and headed back south.

In which I don't find a Himalayan Snowcock on the patch, and am genuinely surprised about it

Jesus it's cold. I can't remember it ever being this cold. Post-birding, I've been warming my hands up by holding them in the fridge. Today Muffin had a friend's birthday party at the hell-hole called Kids Corner in Epping. "You can stay if you like?!" said the mum brightly. I excused myself, said I'd rather chew my own arm off or something, and headed off to scope the northern Lea Valley Reservoirs. On an exposed hillside, holding an all-metal tripod head, two-pairs of gloves might as well have been a sheet of tissue paper. Four or five Black-necked Grebes and four Goldeneye were scant reward for losing all feeling in my fingers. Chastened I went off to Connaught Water in Epping Forest, home over the years to many unringed and wary wildfowl exotica, and a healthy population of Mandarin Ducks.


On arrival, I stepped on a Robin. Then on another. And then another. I've never seen anything like it, they were everywhere. If you stopped, suddenly there would be about 15 on the path all around you, with more in the bushes, and yet more hopping about on the iced-up lake. Some kind-hearted souls are seeding the area, and every Robin in the south-east of England has got to hear of it.







Back in Wanstead, I headed out into the gathering storm. Target - Sparrow. The wind cut through me as I crossed the Flats to the likely spot. Hurrah! Funnily enough House Sparrow was #50 in 2009 as well - shows just how badly they are doing. Next stop Reservoir Wood for a crack at the Tit flock and the Firecrests, but it was virtually silent. I read today that this freeze is supposed to continue until the first week in February. By then, Wanstead may be a bird-free zone. I hope not, as I rather like it with birds in it. Anyway, I continued on to the Dell, where I hoped to find Woodcock and Water Rail. None of the former, though I bet they're in there, but I was rewarded with an extremely showy Water Rail down near the little bridge. I can claim no credit for finding it though, another local birder, Nick, put me on to it. Still, it's nice to know that we have one again. The Dell is looking really good at the moment, as it is one of the only places in the Park which has flowing water, and this was being enjoyed by not only the Water Rail, but also by a pair of Moorhen, a funny Wren with a seemingly black belly, and a Weasel - a site mammal tick. Would that it would also be enjoyed by a Woodcock, a Jack Snipe, or some Teal. I'll keep checking it, sooner or later it will come good.

By now the snow had really kicked in, and much as I was enjoying the Rail, it was time to head back to the family. I set a brisk pace and by the time I got back was actually fairly warm. Nonetheless, it is bleak out there, and set to continue. Although I am joking about the Himalayan Snowcock, literally anything could turn up.

Snow

Real snow. Proper snow. None of this crappy dusting, thick frost stuff that gets labelled as snow. This was real snow. Readers in Moscow are probably scoffing, but I even put the Landrover in low ratio this afternoon on the school run. I didn't need to, strictly, I just wanted to. And great fun it was too, 18mph in fifth gear, immense traction, and no pirouettes like I saw another car do.

Heronry Pond. Just look at all the birds!

I had a brief meander around Wanstead Flats while the girls were sleeping - didn't score too many brownie points with Mrs L when they woke up and I was half an hour away in thick snow. I managed seven ticks before the weather closed in completely, including bright green parakeets which was incongruous to say the least. Finally got a Tufted Duck and a Shoveler, but best bird award goes to the Snipe down near Jubilee Pond. The flock of 22 Skylark feeding in the snow was very nice too, and easy to count for a change.

Cold Pipit, Anthus frigidii

There were people everywhere, out enjoying it. And why not. We did too, but in the garden, where a snowman was the first order of the day after the school run. I don't recall too many snowmen when I was growing up, but so far my kids seem to have had the chance more or less annually. And they'll get the chance again tomorrow as school has been cancelled.

Snowman and two Executive Directors. Slave visible in background.

My 2010 professional goals are not going so well. It is only the 6th of January and already Mrs L has complained that she hasn't seen me do any cleaning. I retorted with news of a freshly cleaned sink, but after inspection limescale was still deemed to be present. Pah. She also warned me not to cook omlette for dinner, but this went unheeded - if they can eat boiled eggs, they can eat an omlette, or at least that was my thinking. Think again.

"So you reckon I'm going to eat omlette do you?"

On the birding front, Wanstead is well underway at 48, and this is without Sparrow or Sparrowhawk. Hopefully I'll break 50 in the first week, which ends tomorrow. I reckon I stand a decent chance of a Lapwing tomorrow as well, as the weather is very similar to that which saw the last ones go over a couple of weeks ago. My Rainham list stands at 80, with such gems as Bearded Tit, Great Skua, Serin and Glaucous Gull, and loads of easy stuff left like Grey Plover and Water Pipit. No ticks of any description for Essex or London, but I'm fairly laid back about it for now, plenty of time, and I'm enjoying the patching. You can chart my progress on the right.

Essex Winter Birding. Dreadful.

A terrible day out today spent largely on the Essex Coast. Not year-listing, no no no. I was accompanying some rabid year-listers, but personally I was just hoping for a Robin or two, a couple of Blackbirds, and possibly a Fieldfare or Skylark. Took Bradders' new Subaru as my car is hors service.... Very comfy, very warm, good fuel economy, but oddly has a boot where the sub-woofer should be. Still, despite the lack of bass, it seems to go OK.

Gutted of Wanstead, Show-home Shaun, Hawkeye Hawkins, The Blowmonkey, Dave "McRae" Bradders, Martin Redsy

Met Hawky, SHS, Monkey and Redsy at dawn at Abberton for the long-staying Spotted Sandpiper. Not a filthy year-tick, we were there as Redsy needed it. Altruist that I am, I needed to help show him where to go, which fence to hop and so on. Yes, I was just helping. I didn't even scope it. In fact I had my eyes shut, er yes that's right, yes, my eyes were shut. But as I was walking back it flew past me. Sorry. It was no good pretending I hadn't seen it, or trying to string it into a Common Sandpiper, it was too late. So a bad start to the day. I also very unfortunately saw a Spoonbill, a Whooper Swan, 2 Jays, many Goosander, an Eygptian Goose, and four Smew, all of which were year ticks. I would have stayed in the car, but I was getting too hot. All I wanted to see were Wigeon actually.

After this disaster we carried on to the causeway at Mersea Island, as I like the landscape there very much. Whilst admiring the various views through my scope and binoculars I sadly noticed some Brent Geese, Oystercatchers, Knot, Turnstone, and a Grey Plover. And then before I could stop myself, I identified a Spotted Redshank. I just blurted it out. Hoping against hope I had got it wrong and it was in fact just a Redshank, I hurried to get a better view, and was aghast to see not only a spanking winter-plumaged Spotted Redshank, but also a Greenshank right next to it. Aaaargh, 100 for the year!

Brents

Could it get any worse? Well, yes. Next stop the point at East Mersea where I hoped to get some nice shots of the shingle. Luckily it was devoid of Snow Buntings, but whilst looking at a Harbour Porpoise - quite safe, I don't keep a mammal year-list - some Avocets flew past. Damn it. And then whilst panning to see which yacht was the biggest I noted a couple of Eider and distant Red-breasted Merganser.

Slavonian Grebe

It occured to us that Roll's Farm near Tollesbury might be good for some Skylark and Fieldfare flocks, both of which I had already seen this year. Whilst scanning the Blackwater Estuary for these, we saw a Red-throated Diver, at least three Great Northern Divers, and up to six Slavonian Grebes. These things can't be helped I suppose, but to say I was disappointed is an understatement. To make matters worse, Hawky found a Barn Owl that I instinctively looked at before I realised what I was doing, and a bloody Kingfisher called right in front of me as we were walking back. Bradders dropping his pasty and then treading on it briefly lightened my mood, but then I added up what I seen and realised I was on 108 for the year, and immediately sank into a deep depression.

Unbelievably unlucky to run into this

The boys decided that they would cheer me up with an ice-cream. There didn't seem to be any place to get one nearby, so we drove to Southend as Rossi's ice cream parlour is usually pretty good. As we parked the car I looked up and saw a Ring-billed Gull on a lamp-post. You could not have written it. I mean what were the chances of that? Gutted, absolutely gutted. Inconsolable, I stared at the sea, trying to ignore the Med Gulls. To take my mind off these, I took some pictures of the Turnstones. Kneeling down to get a more pleasing angle, my day got worse as I squidged straight into a turd. I would have thought that Essex was quite a long way to take your dog for a walk if you live in Cornwall, but it seems that distance is no object when it comes to pissing me off. This was the absolute low point of my day, but the highlight of four other people's. Would have been five, but Redsy had left us by then. Quasi-amusing pictures coming to a blog near here soon I suspect. I wiped most off with a broad-leaved plant, and then went to a cafe where a waitress kindly squirted table-cleaning stuff on my leg and gave me some napkins.

Finished the day off with about 20 Bar-tailed Godwits as I was admiring the setting sun on Two Tree Island. What difference does it make frankly? I was barely registering any pain at this point, it was all over. 25 year-ticks in a day where I hadn't thought I'd get any, and a new total of 111 which matches exactly what I was on by the 3rd January last year. This isn't looking good. Wanstead tomorrow. I shall steadfastly ignore any Goldcrests, and I hope those two Firecrests have left Reservoir Wood, as my treble figure of eight loop through there might otherwise see me bump into them.

Bearded Tits. Not Wanstead.

A bit of a departure today, in that I didn't go out on the patch. Oh wait, I did, but didn't get any ticks, so frankly it is not worthy of mention. Wanstead? No idea.

It was a big disappointment actually, as all of the lakes and ponds are frozen over with only miniscule patches of open water remaining. These are populated by the ever-agressive Coots; presumably they have chased off all other species bar Mute Swan, which they probably leave alone, though I wouldn't put it past them. Maybe if they ganged up? The best I got were three flocks of Redwing totalling perhaps 110 birds - not bad for round here I suppose.

I only spent an hour or so on the patch before coming home, and after dumping the family in Wanstead village, headed off to Rainham, whose elegant and picturesque landscape I had not seen for a few weeks. People describe it as bleak, and when you pass the "Welcome to Thurrock, we shoot to kill" sign, it can appear a little forboding, but the reserve is a big slice of stunning habitat in an area that might otherwise go overlooked by birders concerned for their continued wellbeing. Once I'm through the three sets of gates and into the carpark, and then through another set of gates, over the two drawbridges and onto the reserve I tend to feel quite safe. Today, in the snow, the place looked better than ever, and the crunch underfoot on the boardwalks was most satisfying. Even more satisfying than that however was a pair of Bearded Tits showing extremely well just off the southern boardwalk. I've seen this species here before, but never as well as this, and it was very irritating when my camera battery packed in after only a hundred and fifty shots. Still, before that sad moment I got a few which I'm fairly pleased with, but if they continue to be as obliging as this then I'll be back in the near future. Having said that, once the camera became 2.8kg of useless metal and glass, it was a pleasure to just stand and enjoy the birds feeding away without needing to worry about shutter speed and the merits of landscape over portrait composition.







I realise that I have not written much lately about my ongoing domestic adventures. For all those readers who visit to glean top cleaning tips and the latest recipes, and who must be fretting that we're not only starving, but also up to our armpits in accumulated food debris and dust, worry not, everything is fine. Mrs L has finished work for the year, and is now in charge. Well, she was always in charge, as I'm sure you all know, but now she really is in charge. Hands-on in charge. Yup, I am on holiday, as from yesterday evening. So Mrs L will now be practising what she [so often] preaches, and by this time next week dust in Chateau Lethbridge will be a thing of the past. Hem hem.

The aroma of fresh pine

The aroma of fresh pine is permeating the house. Not toilet cleaner, a Christmas Tree. According to the label, it is apparently a classic Nordmann. It is now in the front room, classically dropping pine needles all over the floor. By the time I had put the vacuum cleaner back in the cupboard and gone back to admire my tree erection handiwork, there was a fresh scattering. Non-drop? Let's just hope it is merely adjusting to its recent change in circumstances and will pull itself together and remember why it cost forty quid.

Fittingly, it has also begun to snow, and this wintry scene has been complemented by the arrival of a small flock of Lesser Redpolls, which is really what I wanted to write about. There are somewhere between fifteen and eighteen birds, and a couple of Goldfinch with them. They are mostly feeding in a tree with dangly bits (my botany is not all that) three doors down, but every now and then they fly around in a big circle and land in the tree at the bottom of my garden, which I think is a sycamore. This morning, as I was having breakfast, three of the flock diverted and sat up in the Mahonia right next to the terrace. They were beautiful, I didn't have my camera, and naturally they have not returned. I did manage to grab a shot over the fence as they fed, but it's not really what I had in mind.

If only I lived in SW London, as these would then be Mealy Redpoll.

This is only the second time we have had Redpolls in the garden. The first were three fleeting birds about two years ago that I never got good views of, so in some ways this feels like tick. I filled up the feeders yesterday, just in time for the truly cold weather, and this morning there have been a succession of visitors. Greenfinches, Sparrows and loads of Blue Tits and Great Tits, but also a few Chaffinches and Robins. There has been a Jay, until four Blackbirds converged and saw it off, the resident Jackdaws have been about, and a Wren has been singing from down the end somewhere. All in all rather a pleasant morning. All I need now is a Nuthatch to complete the scene.

Suburban idyll

I have dutifully checked the Basin, Heronry and Perch Ponds, and found nothing of interest. Perch and Heronry have partially frozen, including the bit where the Goldeneye likes to hang out, and there was no sign of it this morning. It is a bird that is supposed to arrive in cold weather, not be driven away by it dammit. I'll check again tomorrow but I have a horrible feeling it has gone.

I have to go. Pudding is telling me she has Christmas Trees in her socks. Bloody rip-off Nordmann.

EDIT: The sock Christmas Trees were Brio ones, and they were indeed in her socks, which were on her feet. If I knew, I would tell you.

Rule #162: Always go see Shrikes

Shikes are cool, that's the main reason. Little badass bandits that look disarmingly cute and fluffy. Supplementary reasons include the fact that there is significant species morphology. Today's Great Grey can be tomorrow's Lesser Grey, or perhaps even Steppe. Or yesterday's Red-backed could become today's Brown, although the reverse is also true. Confusion can reign for days over IDs, especially autumn juveniles, and sometimes the birds are gone before anyone works it out. I'm not claiming any taxonomic expertise whatsoever, as ultimately it doesn't matter - Shrikes are just cool. Which is why I got up at 4:45am and dashed over to St Aines to look at a Red-backe, er I mean Brown Shrike.

Badly misjudged the air temperature. Didn't wear a jumper and had really thin socks on. At one point I considered pouring my coffee into my shoes for the temporary relief it would bring. Frrreeeezing. Things didn't start so well for the seventy or so entirely normal and well-balanced individuals out on the moor at 6:30am, as low-lying mist prevented any birds being seen for a good hour and a half. But by 8, with the crowd having swelled to near enough a hundred, some people to my right claimed it had flown into a bush in front of us. We all rubbished this of course, they had only seen a Stonechat, desperation setting in already, losers. Entirely coincidentally I then picked the silhouette of the bird up in the top of what might have been the same bush....

Views continued to be dreadful for a little while and then all of a sudden the mist vanished and there it was, sat up where all could see it. A few people started talking about P this and P the other, sub-terminal markings and rounded lower-nostril coverts. Irrelevant - it was clearly a Shrike and that is all you need to know in order to gain enjoyment. Funnily enough though it was one I hadn't seen before, so I got a surprise tick. Bonus.

The great and the good were out in force, so I got lots of London Birder ticks as well. So did a lady filming the event for what will no doubt be a thoughtful and balanced documentary about bird watching and those who pursue this magnificent pastime. Vince and Steve B made up for their 2008 failure at Flamborough, and almost all the entire East London contingent managed to make it over during the course of the day. Fly little birdy, fly! Let's hope it stays one more night!

Car-crash TV. PS, employers may wish to click and enlarge to identify ill staff.

In a rare fit of proper birding, I came home and wrote up my notes before I went online to read all about the separation of juv Cristatus from Collurio. Wow. My conclusion?

Shrike.

The nights are drawing in

Yup, nothing doing today, or indeed the last few days. It rained Monday through Wednesday so I stayed at home, I dipped a Wryneck on Thursday but jammed in on a London Red Kite on the M25 on the way back, and today was spent cleaning sinks and toilets. A pretty dull week all in all, so very much looking forward to a weekend of amazingness. Could I at least get a year tick somewhere?

There was one birding moment today whilst on the school run. At the traffic lights near the Green Man roundabout a Long-tailed Tit flew out of a large tree and over the road. A couple of seconds later another followed it, and then three more. I had just started to tell the kids about Tit flocks and how they hang around together in winter, when about 30 birds, mixed LTT and Blue Tit, all flew out and over together and into a tree on the other side. The children were visibly moved. Then we got hooted at and missed the lights.

So, a sign of winter approaching. Another sign is that I am now feeling cold in the mornings. The urge to stay in my nice, warm and cosy bed is growing by the day. As is the urge to fire up the central heating, which so far I have resisted. I suppose I could, Mrs L would never know. And anyway, she sometimes used to turn it on when she was working from home, and I have small children who chill easily, and there is a desperate shortage of wooly jumpers in this house as I am sure I have alluded to in the past....

I'm sitting here listening to A Prairie Home Companion. Easily one of the best radio programmes out there, and has been going for over 35 years. We discovered it a few years ago, and it is now essential listening. The latest from the Ketchup Advisory Board even had a vague bird theme.

"These are the good times, for the summer birds.
Heading south for winter, in their great bird herds.
Life is flowing, like ketchup on cheese curds."

"Ketchup, for the good times" "Ketchup, Ketchuuuup"

I think you probably have to listen to the show a few time before it becomes meaningful.

Attempt at the keyhole technique in Fife earlier this year. This post is what is known in the trade as a "filler".

God it's cold. Do good gloves for birding actually exist?

At the last count I had five pairs of gloves. A recent pair, eXtremeties Mountain Guide Gloves, are 50% leather (at the front), 50% Goretex wind-stopper (at the back), and 100% useless. Another £30 down the drain. Even with some thin North Face ones on underneath, kind of like glove underwear, my fingers still go numb. If it isn't super cold, but still cold enough to wear gloves, they get all sweaty insde. Prior to these I had some North Face wind-stopper ones that were warmish, but had sponge-like properties undesireable in a glove. The latest attempt at finger happiness is a £5 desparation Ebay purchase of a Jack Pyke "thinsulate" fingerless glove/mitten combo thing. The mitten pull-over fastens back with velcro when you want finger exposure, and slips over when you don't need your fingers anymore. Sounds good, hell, I was sucked in, but they are in fact dreadful. What I didn't realise is that your thumb-tip is never covered. Also the patch of velcro is miniscule and getting all furry already, so the mitten bit will no doubt be flopping all over the place pretty soon. So here is a question, why can't somebody invent the perfect glove for birders that is light, unrestrictive, waterproof, warm even in cold weather but has wicking abilities in slighly less cold weather? Am I asking too much? Suggestions welcome (from my thousands of readers....).

Here are some photos taken with gloves. The eXtremeties ones. Without the under-gloves I can just about operate the camera. Any poor exposures should be blamed on the glove manufacturer, rather than the camera operator.

This blackbird was so desperate for food on Monday that it hopped in my footprints where I had disturbed the snow. Here it is on my fence. I attempted to go to work on Monday, but obviously London is so unbelievably crass and pathetic in the face of anything other than light drizzle that it was never going to happen. Instead I worked from home, hem hem, filled up the feeders, and spent 8 hours getting this frankly pretty dull photo.

In the Park, seven Meadow Pipits were a-feeding. No partridges were located but it did feel pretty Christmassy. Skivers were out en-masse, somewhat of a carnival atmosphere actually, TfL be damned.


Alexandra Lake on Wanstead Flats was approximately 85% frozen. Bird photography is much easier when the subjects are confined to puddle-sized stretches of water very close to the shore. Even with gloves on.

Amazingly, the pair of Red-crested Pochard that arrived on January the 9th are still here. Obviously still very wary, and only coming to Paella.

There should be more birds designed like this, they are superb. This one was feeding actively around the icy margins, and rarely had its beak out of the water. Probably saw the camera.

Although it appears someone has hacked this Mallard's foot off, in fact she was perfectly formed, and probably just a bit cold. I may have been imagining it but I think she was eyeing up my gloves, so I told her that they were crap. And far too big. D-uh!