The Proof is in the Clouds

Bradders put me onto this, which is a lot of fun, and also proof positive that this blog is (and always has been) about Wanstead. No trips, no twitching, no nonsense, just Wanstead. Kind of. This is a cloud, in the shape of a swan, made of the predominant themes from this blog over the month of January. You will note that "Wanstead" features heavily, just as it should. As does "Birding". Search for Tagxedo on the web if you want to do something similar. It also makes for a remarkably easy yet mildly interesting filler post if you have nothing else to say.

Hello February!

Morning! Well January zipped by didn't it? Obviously as I age (gracefully) time inevitably goes quicker, but by any standards January went like lightning. I suppose a week in America rather than Wanstead meant that it was mid-month before I even knew it contributes to the impression of an extremely brief January, but there you go, it's gone.


Birding has been extremely relaxed - pleasingly relaxed. I have felt under no pressure whatsover, proving that it's all in the mind, and if you can manage to relegate listing urges to the back of your mind you will be much healthier for it, in a spiritual sense. I've left Wanstead twice to bird elsewhere - one trip to Norfolk to look at a potentially pet goose, and one trip just the other day to the Essex coast. By contrast I've visited Wanstead Park nine times, Wanstead Flats twice, and have yet to set foot in Bush Wood. Admirably local, Ohio notwithstanding.


And you know what? It's been great. I haven't turned up anything unusual on the patch, but so what? I'm more than pleased with Wigeon, Lesserspot, Treecreeper and Water Rail - all good birds for round here. I've just been strolling around enjoying it. Pottering would sum it up nicely. I've taken more photos of Mallards than strictly necessary, but I seem not to tire of it. Although they are common as muck, they're actually one of our best-looking ducks. Because they're omnipresent, people tend to look through them, just as they do with Blue Tits, but spend a bit of time looking at Mallards and you'll quickly come to the conclusion that they're extremely smart.



Anyway, my January total on the patch was a solid yet unspectacular 64, very slightly lower than in recent years, a function of having been away for a week and my new-found laziness, err I mean relaxed approach. I'm still missing Kingfisher, Tawny Owl and Grey Wag, all of which are around, but no-one has seen the resident Little Owl or an overwintering Stonechat - perhaps we don't have any this year?

I'll probably hit the park later today for some more enjoyment of very tame ducks, although what I should really be doing is getting my hair cut. I am developing curls around the ears and a what appears to be a rather unfortunate mullet down the back of my neck. I loathe getting my hair cut, as it eats into birding job-hunting time, but I suppose once every three months isn't so bad, and it eliminates a lot of the grey that could almost be described as becoming invasive. My knee still hurts by the way.

Taking Off

Whilst I am in contact with numerous recruitment consultants, for the time being I am continuing to live the dream. Today the dream was of a Goosander still being on Perch Pond, and a sadly dream it remained. Nevermind. I had a very nice walk around Wanstead Park in some weak winter sunshine, and whilst I saw nothing new for the yearlist, it was good to be on the patch.



 
One of the benefits of being into photography is that if the birding is quiet, you can instead concentrate on looking through the lens, and today I did just that. I spent most of my time knelt on the bank of the Ornamental Water trying to get decent images (sorry Gav et al) of whatever came close enough. The principal attraction was Swan Wars - a single adult Mute Swan had made the mistake of landing in the territory of the resident pair who were having none of it. They would chase the interloper who would then fly off to the far end of the water, whereupon the pair would swim over to it, through ice if necessary, and cause it to fly back to where they had all started. Repeat almost ad infinitum - it took over an hour for the new bird to get the message and depart high to the south in search of pastures new. Good luck, as all the ponds here are spoken for and he'll get the same treatment on any of them.

 
The struggle today was exposure. Pure white on a dark background is a situation I hate. All the reading suggests exposing such that you don't blow the whites, but to do that the image looks really dull. And of course, as the bird gets larger in the frame, so the amount of white influencing the meter increases. It took me a while to work out that manual mode was the only way to go, but with the sun coming in and going out, ir was somehow unsatisfying and also didn't work when a non-white bird came into view. I tinkered with what seemed like countless variations, but when it came to processing I have made adjustments to almost all the images. Supposedly in all but sky situations, the maximum amount of compensation needed when working in evaluative is 2/3rds in either direction. Sorry if this is boring you, I could witter on about photography for just about forever. Bottom line, I think I need to read the exposure chapter in the Art of Bird Photography again. And then again.

 
The assumption is that anyone with a fancy camera and large lens just points it at a distant bird and an amazing high-definition photograph results. Wrong. If you point it at a distant bird and just press the button you will get an ill-exposed and probably fuzzy speck of what might be a bird. See, I'm wittering again. I'll stop. Suffice it to say that it is not straightforward at all and despite having owned an SLR since 1997 I am still learning every day, and sometimes feel like I am going backwards.

Flocking in Essex

Flock flock flock flock flock. Every January I try and make a winter visit to the Essex coast for some winter birding. Last year I went at the beginning of the month, where if you remember I knelt in a turd. No such poor luck today, but the birds were equally good. Once again Bradders took his rally car, and our chief scarecrow-spotter Hawky made up the team. Today was all about flocks.



Started on the Blackwater estuary, where we could find no interesting Grebes or Divers, but a flock of over two hundred Golden Plover were extremely nice, and the sound of their wings as they flew in tight formation was pretty damn cool. Heaps of Brents here too, and some flocks of Goldeneye in mid-channel.

A quick stop at Braxted Park where the regular flock of Hawfinches were seen, or at least some of them - we counted ten in the tall trees just within the golf course. A great bird to see, and an Essex tick for me, but a real shame they are so scarce. Our next flocks were near the Strood, at the causeway across [to] Mersea. Masses of Dunlin on the falling tide, but best of all a wintering flock of Lapland Buntings in a weedy field. We counted around 30 birds, and bins etc were unnecessary as the flock wheeled around overhead giving the classic "peew" and "brrrrrrrrr" calls. Easily the largest number I've ever seen together, including Shetland, and another Essex tick. I was on fire!



We tried the estuary from Mersea for Divers again, but all I could do was string a Cormorant until Bradders noticed. Boring!  We gave up on the sea and headed to Abberton, where we encountered eight distant Smew, but much nearer six each of Tundra Bean and Pink-footed Geese. I can never recall either seeing birds this close, or seeing them swimming on the water, and I can only think of one time when I've seen them together, so this was very instructive. In a nutshell, Brown and Orange vs Silver and Pink. Goose identification, done.



A distant Ringtail Hen Harrier at the same site was a bonus Essex Tick, and we also twitched a burger van with notable success. Meanwhile I missed a Goosander on the Perch Pond back in Wanstead which was a bit gripping, but I did have an unlikely drake flying across the Flats a couple of years ago so I am not too gutted, and I can spend tomorrow looking for it.

A quick note on not year listing

Going really really well. I'm on 111, which I'd reached by 3rd of January in both 2009 and 2010. So far then, this is easily my worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) performance in recent years. I have not caved into adding it onto Bubo, which might induce competitive urges, and I only added it up for the purposes of this post (after having read the one I linked to above, and got curious). So far, so good.

The King of First-World Problems

I bought it for the kids at Halloween, not realising that my mother had bought them one each. These were duly carved, and about three days later had started growing fuzz and collapsing. Three months on and this one is still in perfect nick. Totally firm, no soft spots. Given that it cost a quid from Tescos, this is pretty good going. Could it possibly last another nine months?

Probably not, so the question is, what am I supposed to do with it? The major sticking point is that none of us like the taste of pumpkin, yet it seems wasteful to chuck it away. Today is the three month anniversary of it sitting on the kitchen counter. It's lived on the right hand side near the fridge, and has also travelled down to near the toaster. I put it in the fruit bowl, but then there was no room for fruit. Perhaps we should just have another Halloween and then chuck the festering mass away in a few days? Or buy a sniper rifle and reenact The Day of the Jackal?  I just don't know what to do.

Honestly, my life is so stressful.

Imagine

Imagine if one of these turned up in your garden. Apart from a cartwheel, what would you do? Have a good old think and I'll be back later with the answer. Ta-ra.

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.