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

The Moral Maze

I have a massive dilemma, what you might call a proper first world problem. It concerns my garden list, and a potential first for it. As everyone knows, the rules, such as they are, are that either you or the bird must be within the property boundary. As such this means that provided you’re at home, birds that never came anywhere near your garden, and never will, can easily be ticked. Owners of perfectly ordinary suburban gardens, a bit of grass and a few shrubs, can therefore safely claim all Gulls, a variety of waders and wildfowl, and any raptor that happens to drift by. I’ve got Tufted Duck on my garden list, and have no intention of taking it off. The fact that it flew over Wanstead Flats from one pond to another is completely irrelevant.

I left the house quite early this morning, and was wandering through the SSSI towards the bus stop when I caught sight of three largish birds heading towards me. At this point they were roughly over the Jubilee pond  - clearly wildfowl, but bigger than Mallards. For a moment I wondered about Shelduck, but then they banked and became Egyptian Geese. Oh shit, they had banked left. And left takes them over where I live. Can you guess whether Egyptian Goose is on my garden list or not? I turned for home and started running, but I knew I wouldn’t make it. I just made it to the end of my road to see the three birds disappear over the rooftop, and judging how far down the road they had crossed over is near on impossible. What to do? I would have had a glorious view of them from my upstairs back window, I could have tracked them all the way in.

Naturally I’ve pored over maps. The birds were almost certainly headed for the Basin, which is where I always see them on the way back from the school run. If you draw a line from the point I think they turned left to the Basin, it bisects my chimney pots. You’ll have to trust me on this – I was going to make a nice map, but I’ve decided that even with the Lions, the Crocodile pits and so on, I can’t publish where I live online. Anyone who watches the news will know how difficult it is to remove a protest camp once it’s set up....

An Egyptian Goose prepares to fly 'over' my house

I’ve long been saying that Egyptian Goose was a likely candidate for my next garden tick, and it goes and happens when I’m not at home. Had I left home one minute later I would have made it back to plonk a foot on the front drive and claim them for all eternity. Woe is me, what to do? Happily, help is at hand. When it comes to avian listing dilemmas, there is only one man to whom you should turn. Professor Whiteman of Walthamstow - I feverishly composed a text message there and then, describing what happened. I felt sure I’d get the answer I was looking for.

The answer quickly came back, but was not what I was looking for. Far from it in fact. Almost unbelievably, the Professor has been placed on gardening leave, something about some dodgy research involving Red Kites. While this is being investigated by the scientific community, he is unable to comment on individual cases of bird vectorisation. However he promised to forward the query to the resident Agony Uncle at Dudeing World magazine. He was a good as his word, and earlier this morning I received the following email from Uncle Paul.

Dear Jono,

A dilemma indeed, and one we have all struggled with. I think it all boils down to your listing ethics, which, as is now well established, get looser in direct proportion to the size of ones patch. British Life List = lots of competition and therefore scrutiny = very strict rules. House list = you're on your own, nobody much cares = looser rules.

I think the basic: seen in, from or over rule is a given but a little known ruling from the International House Listing Governing Body (IHLGB) states in Ch2 Sec8 SubSec 1 Par3.2 "if one is approaching the property but not actually on site, yet the Bird is clearly seen over the patch it is countable." Remember too that House list air space is the shape of an upturned pyramid so a bird even some distance away can be 'over' the house.

There was a local attempt to stretch this rule but it was (probably fortunately) thwarted by the Wheatears, on a nearby field, refusing to line up with the Birders scope and wife, who was hanging out of the bedroom window. I suspect even the IHLGB may have struggled with a ruling on that one, though of course a bung never hurts.

On the other hand Egyptian Geese are not getting any scarcer, perhaps something to do with the Arab Spring, so you might not have to wait to long for a kosher (maybe halal?) tick.

On the other matter you wrote about, it happens to all boys and you will probably grow out of it.

Uncle Paul

Personally I find the concept of house airspace being an inverted pyramid extremely comforting, and had no idea that this was official. Of course, it makes a huge amount of sense. If I were watching from my house, the countable airspace would indeed resemble such a pyramid, so it follows very naturally that even a short distance from the house, that pyramid would still apply. And it’s not as if Mrs L called me up and said she saw an Egyptian Goose fly over the house while I was at work – I actually saw it – them – fly over, if not directly over the top, well within the standard Louvre-like pyramidal shape that is centred on my house. It might not have quite the cachet of a garden tick from the actual property, but there’s no doubt whatsoever that the birds were present. Egyptian Goose represents the 77^th IHLGB-approved tick for my garden, and although long-anticipated, is very welcome nonetheless. I’m sure that there are many listers out there who have faced this same dilemma over the years, not least those partaking in the patch-list challenge. Although the rules from the IHLGB are clear, I’d be interested to hear where you stand, and look forward to your comments.

Cold wind a comin'

The moment many local patch workers have been waiting for is nearly upon us. The big freeze. Ok, so it isn't big, and it isn't going to be particularly freezing - at least not in Wanstead - but it's the first properly cold snap of this year, and, crucially, the continent is going to be properly cold. I'm told that's the key really, and that the weather in Wanstead is irrelevant. Wanstead has no interesting birds, thus places that do have interesting birds need to become inhospitable in order for any of them to travel here. Suits me.

I've devoted quite some time these last few days to thinking about what I'd lke to find, and where I'd like to find it. This has been slightly problematic, as because I'm working from home quite a lot, I'd really like to find things in my garden. Trouble is, the birds I'd like to find are things like Smew, and unless the weather does something truly remarkable, I have a nagging feeling my garden is going to miss out. I'd rather it does actually, as any feelings of extreme meganess are likely to be tempered by feelings of extreme worry that my house is now in the middle of a lake, with the Thames flood plain a, well, flood plain. Hawk Owl in the big tree at the end? Yeah, that'll do.

It's basically all about movement of wildfowl and waders. Lapwing area good shout, and if I'm spectacularly lucky, a Golden Plover. Wild Geese and Swans usually put a good showing in in the London area, but again, you have to be lucky, and realistically, on the river. Ducks are by far my best chance. Wigeon may move, we could get a Goosander or two, but the real prize would be a Merg, or the aforementioned Smew.  

This weekend I was mostly going round in circles 

As I may have mentioned already, I didn't see many birds this weekend. Mainly I was busy enjoying real life, but when I did get out to Wanstead Flats briefly on Sunday afternoon, there wasn't a whole lot to see. This is the trouble with the end of January - well, most of January really. By the end of the first week you've seen pretty much every bird you're going to see until the end of March - that's why this upcoming continental cold snap is so exciting, it could bring variety, something DIFFERENT. On my brief foray out into the broom fields I noted two singing Song Thrushes, a Fieldfare sat in the top of a tree, and three Meadow Pipits. The excitement stakes were briefly raised when several straggly lines of birds appeared from the south, but rather than the Bean Geese I was hoping for they materialised into Cormorants. 31 Cormorants is pretty impressive for here, especially in one flock, but there's something undeniably crappy about them. Like they're just shit basically. Further excitement came with an uberflock of Ring-necked Parakeets heading in the opposite direction - I had just had a couple singles heading towards Forest Gate, and then a group of six, when a cacophony came down the breeze. The biggest flock of Parakeets I've seen this side of Sidcup cruised over the Coronation Plantation and onwards to who knows where to wreak destruction and chaos. I managed to whip out the trusty smartphone for a snap, and later counted 67 dots. That's loads, but again, not really something I can greet with any particular enthusiasm. A fly-over Bewick's Swan? Now that would be greeted with considerable enthusiam!

Talent

Some people are just talented. Many people, probably. Most, I expect, we don't get to hear about. They are busy being talented in a worthwhile way somewhere else. Others we gain just a snippet of, now and again, when excess talent spills out from whatever it should have been doing and onto the interweb. You could spend hours on the interweb and find many many delightful things. Here are just a few that I consistently go back to.

First up this one. I have no idea who this person is, or what she does, but in blog form she does it very well. A fellow Londoner it seems, though perhaps not wholly pleased about it. So from the west comes Whoopee, with tales of family life, bicycles, moustaches and special DIY skills. The posting has been sporadic of late, but this great little cartoon reminds me why I bookmarked it in the first place.

Next is Gyr Crakes, from the Channel Islands I think. Not that it matters. I loved Reservoir Cats, shame that went, but this is nearly as good. It must take the guy ages to do the drawings, which means they're relatively few and far between, but they are absolutely spot on in relation to the abyss that is the British birding scene. Long may he find time between marking text books or whatever it is that he does, to continue providing us with these hand-drawn gems. The music videos are similarly sharp, but it's the drawings I like.

Returning after an introspective break, blaming work by the sounds of it, is Emma Waffle from Uccle (a major city in Belgium). If you have the time - and you will need A LOT - then it is well worth a read. I'm still not quite sure why I like it, but I do. Going back a few years it got all emotional and rather soul-baring, but that has now passed, at least in blog form, and she is back to doing what she does best, which is whining about the state of her house, dog, children and adopted nation, and fantasizing about shiny things, owls, and baby animals. A lot of other people seemingly feel the same way, as about five minutes after any post there are usually about a million comments. Just like my blog.

Last but not least, and quite possibly the funniest person that writes about birds on the internet, is Tom McKinney. Apparently mild-mannered in real life, his internet persona is very slightly different, and the easily-offended should look away now. It is said that everyone has a book in them. In Tom's case, it should perhaps have stayed in him, but it has now made it's way onto the interweb, and can be viewed here. Make sure you set aside a full day, and have pen and paper handy to keep notes as otherwise you won't understanding a fucking thing. See, look, I'm swearing - he does this to you, it's like watching Billy Connolly. Serialised adventures aside, there are some terrific posts that I cannot help but laugh out loud at. Sometimes I even read them twice. To give you a flavour try here, here, and here, and then tell me if you think British birding is going to Hell in a something handcart.

No, not much birding this weekend...

Filthy Yearlisting and Twitching

But not by me!! Hah! Everyone I know seems to be twitching or year-listing. Take the Mo, as fervent an anti-twitcher as you would ever meet - he didn't even get his arse down to Dungeness for the Oriental Pratincole. But where was he last week? Tear-arsing round Essex in search of filthy ticks, that's where. Yep, Glossy Ibis and Red-breasted Goose ticking. Every time I see him he goes off on one about how all his mates are wrong in the head, chasing round the country for birds, and what does he go and do? He's just blogged about Black-tailed Godwits in London, but don't let that fool you, he's hardly ever in London - most of his Peregrine shots are taken in Wales probably. Filth.

Moving on, who should we find nutty year-listing? Me? I don't think so! I would never be so silly. Nope, it's Hawky, that's who. The two years that I saw over 300, at this exact date I was on 147 & 148. Filthy Hawkins? 152. Yes, you read that right. 152. Unbelievable. Again, another person who professes sensibleness and the virtues of local patching. He came over today to year-tick the Wanstead Firecrests. Next stop the Girling for Black-necked Grebe, and then to Connaught Water where I helped him pick out some male Mandarins - tricky little blighters. Not content with all these ticks it was back to Wanstead for Ring-necked Parakeet and a shot at Lesser Spot. We failed on that, but the Parakeets were a walk in the park. Literally. Filth.

Normally (or perhaps not), Nick would be found walking in the Park. But not today. As dedicated a patch-worker as you will find, there was no sign of him, no gripping messages about Lapwings, no counts of Redwing. Instead a series of garbled messages about trains, small Geese and Norfolk. Two weeks ago Hampshire. Last weekend, Dorset. This weekend, Norfolk, in search of the Lesser White-front before it buggers off back to Pensthorpe. He's reached 150 with a Purple Sandpiper in Lowestoft! Filth.

In addition to a Lesser White-fronted Goose, Bradders could also have been found at Buckenham. In contrast to the three miscreants above, this is perfectly normal. Finding him outside of Norfolk is probably more unusual. He professes to be visiting family, and pretends (every year) that he isn't year-listing. Desperate. Hot news from Norfolk is that he's on 149, a real laggard. If he reads this tonight I expect it will motivate him to be out at dawn tomorrow. At Helston probably.

As far as I can tell, the only person I know who has stayed true is Shaun, who birds the Ingrebourne Valley, as his title picture hopefully makes clear. He's been dipping the pair of White-fronted Geese that have been there. And me. Where was I? Wanstead of course, seeking patch ticks to get that Golden Mallard winging its way to the big smoke. It didn't happen, but I did jam another Kingfisher briefly, and whilst I had my camera pointing vaguely in the right direction as well, always pleasing. Highlights were that, and a high count of Pochard on Heronry, a staggering 54 birds. Oh, and an honourable mention to the carrot cake from the tea shop of happiness, which showed well, if extremely briefly.

My year-list? 136. Comfortably lower than anyone else I know.

Dreams come true!!

But not for me..... There I was, sitting in my little grey cubicle in big grey Canary Wharf when my phone bonged. It was from Nick. This is rarely good news. He had the good grace to start with an apology, but there was no getting away from the fact that a Lapwing had just flown over his head. Unlike my dream, this one was going east, but they all count.

Meanwhile I took a stroll round Canary Wharf. Though 13 Great Crested Grebes was a new high, I could not help but feel slightly short-changed. If I walked around Wanstead for an equivalent amount of time, I'd easily rack up 30 species, possibly more, and I wouldn't just be seeing one of things, I'd be seeing loads. In 45 minutes today, during which I circumnavigated the whole patch, I saw eleven species. The highlight, other than the Grebes, was a Blue Tit. There is poor, and then there is downright impoverished. And then there is Canary Wharf. At one stage, at the far eastern end of my defined boundary, I thought I heard a Pied Wagtail. I quickly folded my hat up over my ears for that ultra-cool look that I pass off so well, but whatever it was it didn't call again, and with a whole packet of peanuts at stake I can't go claiming dodgy ones. 

It will be interesting* to see what happens this spring. I am working it harder than ever before in the limited time I spend there, so perhaps it will shine**. The happy*** news is that my contract has been extended, so I get to spend more time there. Woohoo!**** But it does mean crusts on the table (and wine in the cellar) and in these uncertain times I am thankful; there are plenty of people who are not employed, and plenty of people for whom the future is doubtful. I would still like to petition for continued child benefit though, it's the only reason I had children, and it's the only monetary benefit I have ever claimed. If it goes I will be forced to injure myself more in order to extract a quasi tax rebate out of the NHS. I assure you it will be quite easy- in fact I stubbed my toe (THE toe) just the other day and for a brief moment of extreme pain I thought it had all gone wrong again. It certainly hasn't healed quite correctly, I wonder if I ought to have had some kind of cast after all? Mind you, the doctor I had probably would have put it on the wrong foot....

* not
** almost certainly not
*** errr...
****Never has a woo and a hoo been quite so muted

Dreaming

The other night I had a dream. It's possible that I dream every night, I have no idea how it works, but it's not every morning you wake up and wonder whether it was all a dream, so to speak. This particular dream was about the patch, and I was on it. The snide will comment that it must have been a dream, and indeed, sometimes it does appear to be like that, especially so at the moment, where I get perhaps one opportunity a week to not see Woodpeckers. This dream was not about Woodpeckers though, it was about Lapwings.

Lapwings are what a local bird report might call a scarce visitor. When I first moved here, Lapwing was pretty much a dream bird. I suppose, given recent events, that it still is. Anyway, I had lived here nearly five years before I saw my first Lapwing - in a cold spell one December, 12 flew over me in the Park. I could barely believe it. I dashed home to report the good news to my fascinated family, and in a calculated move of which I am still immensely proud, went and stood in the garden for the rest of the day. Lo and behold, and to a chorus of pure joy, a single Lapwing flying south went and got itself onto the house list. Since that momentous day, I've seen Lapwings a further nine times, totalling 33 birds, though I guess you have to be a fan of urban patch stats to truly appreciate this. One more stat - most of these have been from the garden - unemployment has its benefits.

In my dream I was on the Flats, not in the garden. I was in the SSSI, heading home after a fruitless trip - all the best dreams are grounded in reality. Approaching the ditch that runs approximately east to west, two Lapwings flew over. In case you were having the same dream, they went west. Anyway, they were perfect. The rounded rings, narrower at the base, were impeccably floppy, the flight impressively Lapwingy. In my dream I punched the air, over the moon at a tough patch year tick bagged. Then I woke up. Well, not immediately I don't suppose, but upon waking the dream was still fresh, still vivid, in my mind's eye I could picture them still.

One of the very first ones

Is this post a confession? Not really, you all know I'm a sad case already. I am giving absolutely nothing away when I admit that I dream of birds, but what I feel is particularly noteworthy is that I don't dream about finding Sibe Rubythroats on Unst, or jamming in on Calandra Larks on Scilly. No, I dream about bog standard common waders on my own patch. Unconscious dedication.