Getting there

Is March officially spring? I think it is. I frequently get confused as my tropical plant hobby suggests to me that November is definitely winter and it is generally in September or October that I lose my nerve and start moving things to the safety of the greenhouses. The birder in me says November is autumn, which also means that this birder is now getting quite excited.

But first a little recap on the hard winter months that have been made so much harder by being stuck in London. The furthest I travelled from home was about 10 miles, a bike ride into the centre of town. I also nipped up to Walthamstow to reacquaint myself with that site but shortly after I did so they banned bird watching. This is patently ridiculous but I'd rather not get into trouble or have arguments. Therefore tropical feeder cams aside my entire birding life has centered around Wanstead and this has been both extremely dull and very pleasing. Extremely dull because I thrive on variety and that has been strikingly absent. Pleasing because against all the odds my pathetic yearlist which is basically 95% the same year on year with only the order varying has, well, seen the order vary. 

85. Yes, 85. Count 'em and weep. That's not only my best ever total by the end of winter, but also one better than my best ever total by the end of March. The magic bird was a Cetti's Warbler in the Old Sewage Works. This is only my fifth ever record here, and it was only as recently as 2016 that the species even appeared on the patch with any regularity. Having bracketed us for years, happily they seem now to have found us, and whilst I would not go as far as to say that they are here to stay the bank of the Roding does seem to be to their liking. I'm quietly hopeful that this is just the beginning. My 85 was of course boosted by the cold snap - Lapwing is not annual and Golden Plover is positively rare, but both fell during the month which also saw Snipe and Woodcock, and memorably my second ever Kittiwake. With the long-staying Med Gull, Goosander and White-fronted Goose all making it into the start of the New Year I think all the patch workers are probably in much the same position as I am in terms of bumper starts.

85 is of course quite meagre in the grand scheme of things. I knew I would not be travelling abroad of course and had instead made some grand plans for winter birding in the UK which I recently [re]discovered could be fantastic. None of these planned excursions happened and if they have not gone already the birds will soon be heading off - they know nothing of lockdown. Incidentally it appears that some birders also know nothing of lockdown. I'm deliberately not participating in online witch hunts, nothing good can come of them, but even without doing so I can't help but hear of people breaking the rules, continuing to bird as and where they like. Given how miserable the last two months have been for so many of us it is maddening but what can you do?

Anyhow on Saturday whilst gleefully getting an earful of Cetti's song I also heard the first Chiffchaff singing. I'd heard hweeting a few days earlier but the warm sunshine had clearly encouraged the bird to go the extra mile. It was a happy reminder that the long winter is behind us, and now - in March - I am most definitely looking forward. And of course what I am most looking forward to, whatever number it may be, is this:

Silver coronavirus clouds and the rite of spring

As you know I cannot now go to the office to work. This is a shame, there are social elements to a job that go along with the grind and that make it tolerable - without the people there would be no point. Me and all my colleagues are now working from home for the forseeable future, and I can imagine that this will drive a number of them slightly crazy. In time it may well drive me mad as well, but for now it is spring time and I am fortunate to have a hobby which is very fulfilling. No more so than today.

Today was a big day. My first shot at the title, now in its third year. My first date in the Wanstead Wheatear Sweepstake 2020. On what day would the first one be found? A quick recap on the rules - the names of ten local birders were drawn out of a hat (well, a bowl actually) by Tony, and we then got to choose two dates in the order our names came out. Once a date is chosen nobody else can choose it. I came third and plumped for the 16th and 19th of March, nice median arrival dates, by no means my earliest but also a long way from the latest. 

I had been waiting for this moment and marshaled the troops. At first light Tony would start at the Alex and comb that area. Rob and Simon would start in the Old Sewage Works, and from there progress to the Plain in the Park. James would check School Scrub, with Richard carefully checking the Western Flats, then both moving to the Fairground. Meanwhile Bob, Tim and I would cover the central portion of the Flats (the most likely place frankly), with Nick starting at Angel and working his way up. Sean, who has a bike, would take the whole southern side of the Flats along Capel Road. We would then all meet at the Vizmig point at 11am for the prize-giving ceremony where I would be crowned victor ludorum, provided this was granted Government approval as there would be more than five of us. It's all about confidence.

So bright and early I found myself on out on the Flats in the central portion as discussed. It was a lovely morning, blue skies and a gentle breeze. Oddly no sign of Tim or Bob, they were probably just a little behind, so I set off solo on my search. First of all a circuit of the Brooms where I met Louis and Gosia, nobly helping my cause even though they were not in the sweepstake. Nothing doing in this area, so I went off to check first the Barrage Hitches and then the Ditch of Despair, both of which were also Wheatearless. I was now at the Alex where mysteriously I could not find Tony. He must have been there somewhere, really trying his hardest to winkle one out of some deep scrub or something. Or perhaps he had swum over to the islands to check those? I did a loop of the Pub Scrub where I met a lady with bins who I have never seen before - good of her to get involved. 

Meanwhile some fairly negative news from other areas of the patch. On the western side James, who lives about a third of a mile from the Flats, had briefly looked out of his top window and not been able to see any Wheatears, and was now patiently waiting (at home) for Richard to arrive so that they could coordinate their areas. On the southern sector Sean was just finishing a hasty breakfast and would only be about another 45 minutes, excellent to see him so committed. Simon was also on his way but did need to try and find some toilet paper first so had still not started looking. Also bad news from Rob who needed to reorganise his entire life before coming out birding. And finally Nick was still asleep in Forest Gate. 

In other words a real team effort. Back in the central brooms there was still no sign of Tim and Bob.... but I did briefly see Marco (not in the sweepstake) cycling off east. Perhaps Sean had drafted him in whilst he had another round of toast. Fine. I get it, I was on my own. I had no idea people took the competition so seriously! That being the case, and with only a few minutes left before I had to leave the patch, I pulled out all the stops and stormed round the central path one final time. A Stonechat in the Brooms ! A Skylark singing from a mound! Another Stonechat flitting around the base of some wispy stuff! And then, finally, tantalisingly, a flash of white over my head towards the Model Airfield. A bouncy flight, was it a Woodpecker? Heading directly away it was impossible to see. And then it landed. And turned sideways on. Yessssss!!! A male Wheatear! Fresh in and carrying a small trophy under one wing!

I sent out a message to the team signalling the end of the 2020 competition and thanking them for their unwavering dedication to the cause. Soon Bob turned up, and a short while later Tim and Nick, eager to get in on the action now that the competitive element was over. Tony is contacting COBRA to see if the presentation can go ahead, meanwhile I am of course over the moon that against all the odds I have managed to pull it off. It has not escaped my notice that in peacetime I would have been forced to leave the patch nearly an hour before I found the bird in order to get to work, and that Nick would have snaffled it up like he usually does. Every cloud....

Soon

** Navigate away now if you don't want to read 2011's waiting for Wheatears post **

Soon, this old barrage balloon hitch will perform a useful function once again. No, we are not going to war, or at least not that anyone has told me. No, it will provide a nice perch for a Wheatear to sit on. Guaranteed. And when it does, perhaps a week from now, I will be extremely happy, as I am every year. If a year passes and I cannot muster any enthusiasm for the arrival of spanking summer plumaged Wheatears, well that will be a very dark day indeed, and signal the onset of my birding decline.

But it isn't just about Wheatears. Though it is difficult to even consider them at the moment, there are other birds. Many are only just around the corner. So that you too may delight in the glory ofthe spring migration in Wanstead, perhaps even hold sweepstakes from afar, here are my earliest ever spring arrival dates.

Let's start with Wheatear - it is traditional after all.

Wheatear: March 15th
Chiffchaff: March 27th
Blackcap: March 28th
Willow Warbler: March 28th
Swallow: March 30th
House Martin: April 8th
Sand Martin: April 11th
Ring Ouzel: April 19th
Hobby: April 20th
Lesser Whitethroat: April 20th
Tree Pipit: April 20th
Whinchat: April 20th
Yellow Wagtail: April 22nd
Garganey: April 23rd
Swift: April 25th
Garden Warbler: May 8th
Turtle Dove: May 19th

By the way, I have had both Chiffchaff and Blackcap earlier than the above dates, but with wintering birds it can all get a bit muddled so I've excluded the absolute outliers in March. Science, done. Also, whilst going through my records to pull out these dates, it appears I've never had a spring Redstart here.

Patch birding normality

Another day, another walk round the patch. Guess what I saw! Go on, guess! Need a clue?! Well, the clue is in the title, patch normality. Patch normality means I saw very little. Well, very little to get the blood racing that is. In fact, nothing to get the blood racing now I think about it, and that is the reality of birding a patch. Days upon days of mostly nothing, and then the occasional goody that makes it all worth while.

"What are these funny letters?"

Not every patch is like this of course. Some patches have sea to look at, or a river for added interest. Some patches are migrant traps, and some have thousands upon thousands of wintering Geese. Wanstead has none of these things. It's pretty good, as far as urban sites go, and we get plenty of stuff to cheer about during migration season, but right now a walk round will get you the standard suite of British waterfowl and woodland birds, and nothing else.

It can be a little disheartening, until you realise that the first Wheatear is potentially only 49 days away. Yes, I meant to post this yesterday, and forgot. 49 days! Boy oh boy I'm looking forward to that flash of white bum! Wheatears, in the birding calendar, are a sure sign that the happy days have started again, but I think I've detected a few spring-like things this week. Today, I noticed that Coots were playing with sticks, and a few pairs of Mallard were doing their head-bobbing display at each other. There were also some flowers in Reservoir Wood by the Wayleave. Spring is on the way.


My photosensory instrustments are picking up on it too. On the school run the other day I noticed that it was still really light. Where did that come from? I checked the sun-calculator link I have saved, and it's true, we're on the way out. At the start of January the sun rose at 8:06am, and set at 4:02pm. Not a very long day. Today though, it rose at 7:49am, and set at 4:37pm. I have no idea why you only get 17 minutes at the start of the day yet 35 at the end, but I am not complaining. The difference is noticable. By the time the Wheatears arrive on March 15th (they're booked), that 52 minute increase will have risen to 3 hours and 52 minutes, and that will truly be noticeable. We're gaining almost exactly three minutes a day at the moment, and by Wheatear time, it will be maxed out almost exactly four minutes. Four minutes a day! Why, in a week that's half an hour! I have little clue about why this should be. Something to do with the tilt of the earth and the sun-pixies I think, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that it's brilliant, and that a whole pile of Wheatears in Africa are currently thinking about Wanstead.

Spring has Sprung.

No, not a Wheatear, though every birding site in London bar the ones I have been at has had them. Two Little Ringed Plovers on the MDZ scrape at Rainham this morning. I didn't have any lofty aims or ambitions today. The girls and I were simply going to go for a nice walk. Rainham is ideal - a circular walk, birds, friendly people, a visitor centre, a playground, birds, cake. So this is what we did. The girls kept count of the Reed Buntings for me, I counted the Little Ringed Plovers. We helped a man with Marsh Frogs, and the girls played with broken reed stems, which they used as brooms to sweep the path. The next time you go round, and think to yourself, "Wow, what a tidy reserve, the path all but sparkles!", this is why. I had a quick scan of the Target Pools for Gulls, but bar 17 first-winter Caspian Gulls and a single adult Herring Gull, there was nothing of interest. News of an Avocet visible from the Centre had us quicken our pace, but there was no hurry, and the bird stayed for several hours on the opposite foreshore - my 148th species in London this year. I predict Wheatear and Sand Martin will be the ones to take me to 150, though I wouldn't complain if they were a Stone Curlew and a Raven. Osprey would be fine too.

I took the rather more portable 400mm lense round today, and had a bit of a play. I do like it rather a lot. Much as the other one rocks, this is my ideal birding lense on a nice day. Seeing as there is nothing much else to say, I'll just post a few photos instead.

And last but not least, I can't not share this. Howard somehow managed to colour-coordinate with a Poodle. Having said that, we never saw them at the same time.....

Where is my Wheatear?

Late, that's what. Another fruitless hour on the Flats this morning, enlivened by the sight of Cocker Spaniel puppy chasing Skylarks through the rough grass. Excellent. I took the owner to task - I have a prepared speech these days. Hopefully he got the point, and as a bonus, I didn't get stabbed. More signs are needed, as he genuinely didn't have any idea.

Another dead bird at Alexandra Lake, some three days after the last one, is fairly worrying. A Coot this time, died with its eyes open. I find it difficult to become emotional over a Coot I have to admit, but it did make me spend a lot more time looking at them today that I would normally. They are so demure, socially tolerant and easy-going. Softly softly, friendly, passive and calm.

Suitably soothed after watching the Coots go about their business, I turned my attention to the other denizens of the Heronry Pond. A Mute Swan looked very pretty, and then to get my attention started doing it's best Coot impression. A Canada Goose played the part of the other Coot.

I sat in the sunshine with Pudding for about two hours, simply watching the few birds in front of me being affectionate. We were warm, and happy. And from behind the Tea Hut of Happiness, a Chiffchaff sang, my first of the year. Spring has started. Somebody tell the Wheatears!

"Could you drop a line my way?"