A few Madeiran birds

I didn’t do a great deal of birding whilst in Madeira in early January, but I made sure to catch up with at least a few of the endemics during some of my forays out into the countryside.

Maderian Firecrest
No trip would be complete without getting good views of the local Firecrest, and I am happy to say unlike Firecrest here these are everywhere – possibly the commonest bird in the right habitat. They are easily located on sound, a single note call that our birds just don’t make, and they’re not particularly shy either so good views are guaranteed. My best encounters were along a couple of levadas around Ribeiro Frio, but I heard them all over the place and the nicest photos were actually a bit higher up towards the radar at Arieiro.

Trocaz Pigeon
I saw Trocaz Pigeon in a couple of places, but these are much more restricted. The best and closest views were from the track that runs underneath the Balcoa watchpoint. You are also guaranteed to see the species from the watchpoint itself, but you are looking down on them from a great height as they fly above the Laurel forest. Excellent views, but not camera excellent.

Chaffinch Madeira also has an endemic Chaffinch, maderensis. The absolute best place for crippling views of these has to be the aforementioned Balcoa watchpoint, where there are fearless birds hoping for a handout. It was here that I discovered that Madeiran Chaffinches eat bananas. They're not that different from the sort we get in the UK (coelebs gengleri) really although the green does seem very green. More of a cline perhaps, like bloody Redpolls.....

Blackcap

The Blackcap on Madeira is an another endemic subspecies to Macaronesia, heineken. Visually I could not tell them from the birds we get in the UK, though in theory they are browner on the mantle. They also refresh the parts other Sylvia warblers can't reach. What I found different was the intensity of the single note “Tak” call. Perhaps this is because I have not heard a Blackcap for several months, but it seemed to me to be a level harder than the nominate species. I found the bird to be commonest at lower altitudes in gardens, but I got my best views from a balcony that was level with the canopy at the Monte Palace Gardens. I pished it in and although I didn’t have a birding lens with me, maxed out my tourism zoom with a 2x converter to get something that is passable.

Canary
Atlantic Canaries are very common, particularly so around areas where sparser vegetation blends in alongside gardens and banana plantations down near the coast. Easily picked up by their jangly calls, sounding not unlike Serin which most European travellers will be familiar with, I got excellent views of these in Funchal itself. I can recommend the coastal area in the Lido district as being a good place, especially alongside the waste ground along Rua da Ponta da Cruz – which is also a good spot to seawatch from so you can kill two birds (possibly more!) with one stone so to speak. With patience and if you stay still, the birds will be feeding all around you, which is what happened to me only about five yards off the pavement.

Understanding Redpolls

In terms of UK birding I don’t do much twitchery these days, I prefer seeing no birds in Wanstead as this is a lot easier. I am generally reliant on the glories of yesteryear for any listing advancement, such as the Rainham Slaty-backed Gull, and then more recently a Chinese Pond Heron in Kent that everybody belittled as a joke bird but went to see anyway, just in case. This just-in-case twitching is actually a thing, and in birding lexicon is known as an insurance tick. You go and see a bird which isn’t officially on the UK list owned by the Bird Police, but that might become official at a later date once the scientists and the great and the good have had their say. It is a gamble that does not always pay off, but in many cases it does. Tiny Canada Goose went on for example, I bird I had squirreled away for ages in the hope that one day it might get split from Normal-sized Canada Goose.

Last week saw some more upcoming changes to the UK list. I skimmed over it briefly and took from it that I was going to get a Goose tick – with Taiga Bean Goose and Tundra Bean Goose being split. A number of insurance ticks I had not bothered with seem to be going on too such as Thayers Gull (you can understand why I didn’t go…). Still, one to ink in so can’t complain really.

Hang on a minute though, what’s this down the bottom? Whimbrel and Hudsonian Whimbrel are being added back together? That's no good! This is the very opposite of a split, a lump. Where previously two species were considered to exist, now only one is. Rather than needing ink I now need tippex….. and my tactic of sitting around in my armchair extending my UK list has backfired on me. My list is going in the wrong direction!

But hang on I can hear you exclaim! Surely you break even? Plus a Goose, minus a Whimbrel, a zero sum gain. Yes, but I have not yet got to Redpolls….. You see Redpolls are also being lumped, and therefore I am definitely going backwards. Personally I believe there are about ten thousand species of Redpoll, but up until now the scientists have recognized just three. These were Small Brownish Redpoll, Medium Paler Redpoll, and Polar Bear. I had been hoping for a further split to also include Bigger-than-Medium-Paler-but-Darker Redpoll, as well splitting Polar Bear into Lesser and Greater, but in fact they have taken the opposite approach. Going forward there will be just two, Small-to-Medium-Doesn’t-Matter-about-the-Colour Redpoll, and Large-to-Enormous White Redpoll.

Medium Dark Redpoll (rostrata)

Anyone who has seen the various flavours of Redpoll in this country will know what I am talking about, but let me clear this up. The commonest Redpoll in the UK is Lesser Redpoll. These are small and buffy/browny (cabaret). Occasionally you find a frosty looking one in with them that is a bit bigger and a lot whiter and you are allowed to call these Common Redpoll although some people call them Mealy Redpoll (flammea). Then you get some pretty large ones thought to hail from Greenland that are almost as brown as Lesser Redpoll but a lot darker (rostrata), and you can call these Common Redpoll too. Then you get big white ones that are not quite white enough and that are thought to come from Iceland (icelandica) – I have no idea what you can call these but let’s stick with Common Redpoll. Then you get really really white ones with fluffy tarsi and these are called Coue’s Arctic Redpoll (exilipes), although some people call them Hoary Redpoll, and finally you get massive white ones that are absolutely enormous and that hunt seals, and these are called Hornemann’s Arctic Redpoll (hornemanni), or also Hoary. Both these latter get called Arctic Redpoll. Confused?

Very Large Really White Redpoll (hornemanni)

Look, it's easy. Essentially you start small and buffy/browny and gradually you get larger and whiter, with the exception of rostrata where you replace whiter with darker. And then there is everything in between, and this is why the whole thing is a mess because nobody can agree where one starts and the next begins. The two Arctic Redpolls have never been split despite their dietary requirements, but up until now a distinction was drawn between Lesser and Common/Mealy. No longer. Where we are landing now is Mostly Brown = Common Redpoll, and Really White = Arctic Redpoll. End of. Oh, apart from race icelandica which goes into the Brown camp despite being White. AaaaaarghhhhhhHH!

Back in my formative birding youth, I heard over the grapevine about a large flock of Mealy Redpolls visiting Thorndon Country Park in Essex. I still “needed” Mealy Redpoll at the time, and with a large flock present how could I go wrong? How naïve. So I pootled over there, found masses of Redpolls that all looked the same, and duly called the pager people with news of a large flock of Common Redpolls near the main car park. And naturally I was then rubbished far and wide. Hard as this was to bear at the time, I like to think of myself as prescient.

Medium White Redpoll (icelandica)

The Redpoll argument has been running for hundreds of years, but science is now providing the answer. Or an answer. Based on DNA analysis of 77 different variations on the Redpoll theme, apparently ALL are near-as-dammit identical. Common and Arctic are 100% the same, and Common and Lesser are as close to 100% as makes no difference. So why do they all look different? This is the mystery of creation I suppose. In a way I consider myself lucky to get to keep two species, as there seems adequate justification to reduce the whole lot to one, which would leave us simply with REDPOLL.

Snowy Egret

Blogging is great isn't it? I think I have almost reached the zenith, whereby I flip open the laptop and write down everything I've done recently in the mistaken belief that anyone cares. I went here, I saw this, I went home. This is bird blogging as it is meant to be. And you wonder why it is on the way out... and this is today's offering I am afraid, as the last few days have been rather uneventful. Don't forget the 'back' button.

So.....I nipped out yesterday afternoon in order to avoid cabin fever. My destination, Loch Leven RSPB. No reason really, I just wanted to see some birds. Any birds. I didn't get out until about 2pm, there is a lot of stuff that needs doing in the ancestral home at the moment. It was a nasty day, drizzle and quite windy, and as I crossed over to Perthshire it started to snow - not the best birding weather but I didn't care, it was just nice to be out. I've not been to Loch Leven for quite a few years, my usual destination when I am up here is the coast. I crossed through the tunnel that takes you under the road and wandered down the muddy path to the first hide.

No birds. Not one. I could make out the shapes of distant Swans further away on the loch, and lots of duck, but in terms of birds right there? Nada. The second and third hides were the same. Two Black-headed Gulls and a Mallard in 800m. Glacial, driving sleet, and nothing to see. Any nacsent birders visiting Loch Leven yesterday would have ditched their binoculars there and then and taken up golf. Or knitting. I retreated to the visitor centre and went up to the top floor to warm up. They have a few telescopes bolted to the windows, and despite the fact I knew there was nothing there I idly fired one up and started scanning.... Yes, there was the Mallard, phew. Only one Gull left, you can't win them all. Oh, a white blob on the next scrape, that's where it is. Better check it, just in case.

WAAAAAHHHHH!! It's only a bloody Little Egret! I know what you're thinking. Dross. Down south maybe, but up here it's a rare bird. No doubt it will become common as the species inexorably conquers the entire world, but in 2017 it's still a good record. I've been birding in Scotland a lot and this is the first I've ever seen. No doubt had I been chasing a list I would have seen one some time ago, but ex-Shetland my birding up here tends to be a pretty casual affair. To put this in context, I've seen Spoonbill and Hoopoe in eastern Scotland, and you would easily say that Little Egret is by some magnitude commoner than either of those. Very pleasing, and turned a turgid excursion into a downright success. Needless to say it didn't look happy. The flood was mostly frozen and it was just stood there, hunched up and doing nothing whilst the snow settled on the ice. You would think that at some point these pioneering species would reach a point where they stopped, thought about it for a while, and then decided that enough was enough and actually it would be better if they retreated a bit. This Little Egret looked like that was on the cards. 

Failure (live)

It had been going so well, but I am now staring failure in the face. My mission to walk 35 miles a week for a whole year has failed at almost the first hurdle. It's still January and I am about to chalk up a real blow to my ambitions. I am not going to make it this week.

Disappointment. Dented pride. Weakness personified.

So now, obviously, is when I trot out the list of excuses. The reasons why I fell short. I expect sympathy, forgiveness, possibly chocolate, cards and flowers.

Week one was good, everything went to plan. Exactly 35 miles. I hit this on the final day and then must have immediately called for my sedan chair to carry me home. Week two was a blinder - 41 miles, partly explained by being in Madeira and taking nice long walks in the mountains and by the sea. Week three was solid. Despite being hemmed in by Canary wharf and work, I managed to trot out 37 miles, mostly before work whilst seeing no birds on Wanstead Flats. Which takes us to week four and failure. 

It is Saturday morning and I am in Scotland at my parents house. My dad has taken a fall, and I am here helping for the first few days after his release from hospital where he has been for the last three weeks. That's not the reason I have failed however, the real reason is that I started really badly last Sunday. We had some friends round for lunch and I didn't get out, ending the day on under 50% of the required run rate. I picked it up during the week with some fog-bound local pacing but this wasn't sufficient. Going in to yesterday I needed about 11 miles, and given my day consisted of sitting down working and following my dad round the house I didn't even scrape three. Which brings me today, needing eight.

And it is raining. 

This is what I really mean by failure, I am too soft. I cannot see a good reason to go out in the rain, and am thus accepting of failure, which makes me an even bigger failure. True grit would see me shrugging on my jacket and heading out into the wet, personal comfort be damned. As it is I am sat next to the Aga feeling extremely comfortable, eyeing up the kettle, and generally being pathetic. Cozily pathetic.

LATE EDIT: I am up to 10,436 steps today, or 4.8 miles after a spot of birding in snow and rain, but I am still about three miles short. Such is life.

Gloom

The fog barely lifted on Wednesday, it was the very definition of gloomy. I went out in the morning anyway, it is good contemplative time and I enjoy it whatever the weather. Apart from rain of course. I took a camera but didn’t even get it out of my bag as there was no point. The photo below was from earlier in the week when you could actually make out trees. So if you saw a guy in a red hat wandering purposefully around Wanstead Flats on Wednesday morning when there was evidently no purpose at all given the close-to-zero visibility, that was me.

I was listening of course, that’s what proper birders do. In fact I didn’t even have optics with me, I have risen above that low level of birding. Optics are for the weak, I and many other real birders scorn them. If you don’t instinctively know what is in front of you then you might as well get another hobby. Sorry, that was an alternative fact. It is true that I didn’t have any bins though, as I took one look out of the window in the morning and realised they would be dead weight. Why I still took my camera defies any reasonable explanation other than idiocy as I knew I had no time during the day either.

Needless to say I heard nothing definitive. At one stage I thought I heard the call of an Oystercatcher somewhere overhead in the murk, but it was only the once and I cannot be totally certain it wasn’t a funny Parakeet. I’m off to Scotland shortly where Oystercatchers abound, so I will tune up so to speak. Too late for this one though, a shame. My only other record was also on a very foggy day, but that was multiple calls and left me in no doubt. Interestingly enough the two birds I heard most frequently were Greenfinch and Dunnock, both of which were almost impossible to find at the beginning of the year. Given the weather is far colder than three weeks ago and a lot less conducive to breeding, I am at a loss to understand why they now feel the need to sing, and in the case of the Greenfinches, embark on their skewy display flights. No doubt some bright spark will tell me.

Dare I say it, Gulls?

The ice has driven all the real birds away, so I have resorted to taking photos of Gulls. Well, actually I have mostly been taking pictures of trees and grass in preference, but this weekend given the lack of much else I was forced to swing the lens laridward. There are a lot of Gulls here at the moment, concentrated around the mostly frozen ponds, and it is fair to say that they are not doing much. Loafing. Waiting for handouts. Slipping clumsily on the ice despite their talons. Yes, Gulls have claws. I've not really spent much time studying Gulls, and especially not their feet as feet do not generally sort out ID conundrums, so I was mildly surprised to see claws at the end of the webbing. Not sure that they accomplish much I shouldn't think, but quite interesting actually.

The dominant flavour of Gull on Wanstead Flats is Common at the moment, impressive numbers. I've even been reading a few of the rings, pretty easy to pick out with all the birds stood about. Most seem to be from Norway, or at least to have visited once, with either white or green rings. Amazing to think that they've come all this way to scoff rancid bread and chapatis, but if it keeps them going. There were three different ones that were ringed, which caused momentary excitement until I realised that Tony had seen them all already. They seem to be very site faithful of late, but if there is no pressing need to move I suppose I wouldn't either. Oh, is that a pita? Mmmmmm. 

PS I've included a duck as well, lest you all think I have lost the plot entirely.

Birding the desert

I went birding in Canary Wharf last week. In just under one hour I completely smashed it. I birded it into the ground. I went to the four corners of the estate, I looked at the river and the docks, I looked at the green spaces, I had one eye on the sky. The result? 20 species. 20…..and that includes a Pigeon.

I knew it was hard having done it before, but it appears to have got harder. As this is notionally a birding blog in theory read by birders, and on the basis that all birders love a good list, or in this case, a list, let me give you the rundown of what those 20 species were.

2 Grebes (Little, GC)
2 Wildfowl (Canada Goose, Mallard)
2 Rails (Coot, Moorhen)
4 species of Gull (GBB, LBB, Common, BH)
2 flavours of Pigeon (Pigeon, Woodpigeon)
2 Corvids (Crow, Magpie)
4 Passerines (Blackbird, Robin, Blue Tit, Goldfinch
+ Heron and Cormorant

This takes my Canary Wharf 2017 list up to 21, as I had previously seen a Peregrine which I missed today.  Meanwhile my Wanstead patch list is on 65. How pathetic is this place? I could go almost anywhere else and see more birds in less time, and that is very depressing. I shall persevere though, I do not give up easily on anything. Well, apart from exercise and not eating.

However have you noticed the first bird I listed? Little Grebe. I’ve been birding here long enough, on and off, to know a good thing when I see it and this is monster. There were in fact two, bobbing about close in to the dock wall near that crappy hotel on stilts. Blink and you would have missed them, but I am a birder and birders eke these things out. In all of my forays over the years I’ve seen Little Grebe only once before. I wouldn’t say this latest sighting took my breath away exactly, but birding is all about location location location, and in a location as barren as this you take what you can get.

In all their glory, ahem

An interesting tactic could be to get here early, before the 100,000 people that work here. Might I then get the odd Redwing or Fieldfare, or something left field? It’s difficult at this time of year though as round here work starts well before the sun comes up. Perhaps something to consider in the spring for some of the arriving migrants? What price a Wheatear* on one of the river paths?

*Not long now....