More London birding

As promised, I went out on Wanstead Flats this morning. The weather was lovely, cold and crisp, with fantastic morning light. It was unfortunately rather quiet on the bird front, so I spent most of the time mucking about with the camera. I had another Gull 'moment' early on, but Paul put me right over the phone. "Don't be so bloody stupid", he said. I moved on. Sodding Gulls. I kind of knew it wasn't quite right for Audouin's, but wasn't expecting it to be a Slender-billed.

OK, so that last bit might not be entirely truthful. It was actually a runty Lesser Black-backed Gull that was hardly bigger than the Common Gulls it was with. I'll leave you to guess what I got confused by.

Near the pond this Gull was on was a much easier proposition, a Crow. It was enjoying a morsel of discarded Friday night take-away, KFC or one of the umpteen look-a-likes around here. Totally unconcerned by my presence, it delicately picked away at the marrow and allowed to me to get some shots I was pleased with. I'm coming to the realisation that the only way to get satisfactory photos is to be incredibly close to the bird, and that it helps if the bird is a large one. All my speculative efforts of small birds in tree-tops and so on turn out rubbish.

Ok, so this one isn't a Crow

Another thing I've noticed which helps the overall quality is when all creative control is taken away from me. Take this example from today. I was walking down a bumpy track with the camera over my shoulder, and the shutter fired as I slipped a bit. It has a certain je ne sais quoi about it, and I think it's my favourite shot of the day.

Broxbourne Woods Path, Upsidedown abstract.

I was walking down the track to see if I could see one of these. I could! This was a London tick, and was fairly hard work. Luckily a fellow would-be Hawfinch twitcher had extremely sharp ears and picked one up just as I was on the point of giving up after several hours, so well done him.

Half Term Blues

It is almost over, and it can't come a minute too soon. There are upsides, namely not needing to get up in the morning for the school run, but other than that, Jesus I need a rest. With three of them there is always something to do, always something to fetch, always a dispute to referee. One of them is always thirsty, another, hungry. There is always something needed that is out of reach, and likely to be on a different floor. Above all, there is the incessant chatter, the continuous questions. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere.

The summer holiday last year is but a distant memory, but I got through that, so I'm surprised half term has been so tough. Perhaps it's like real holidays, where one week just isn't enough? You spend that week forgetting about work, getting into a new groove, and then all of a sudden it's over and it's back to the grindstone before you even had time to relax. Like a real holiday, you need two weeks for it to be worthwhile, two weeks before you can start to enjoy it.

Today was typically manic. First up was a game of football cunningly organised at Mansfield Park. Mansfield Park coincidentally overlooks William Girling Reservoir, which currently has a Red-necked Grebe, a Great Northern Diver, 25 Black-necked Grebes and at least one Goosander on it. I know, because I was looking at them whilst leaking goals at a rate of knots. I'm not good at football, and especially not whilst looking through a scope. Then, with suitably muddy children, it was off to Barking to get the courtesy car cleaned before exchanging it for the one that was hit by a post at Rainham several weeks ago. This was exceedingly complex in the middle of a busy car park, but I got there in the end by putting them all in the front passenger seat for five minutes while I transferred the seats across. Next up shopping for the weekend before finally getting home for a late lunch. Men are supposed to be bad at multi-tasking, but if you could have seen me between about one and quarter-past! I tell you, it was something else. I was a blur, a zephyr. I simultaeneously cooked lunch, unstacked the dishwasher, washed a football, unpacked the shopping, got the kids drinks, did the washing up, tidied the front room and somehow also changed a nappy. I probably did a pile more things as well, but I can't remember them and you're almost certainly bored already. Suffice it to say I was amazing and the day was back on track. Women reading this will probably be thinking "Yeah, and?".... Men will be thinking "Wow, amazing! But wash a football?"....

Tomorrow I have some time off, and do you know what, I might go birding. What with one thing or another, mainly rain and too many children, I have neglected the patch this week. I've still been checking the Basin (zip) but I can barely remember where the Flats are. It hasn't been a bad week of course, a lifer in Dusky Warbler, and a few year ticks, all of them in London - Pink-footed Goose, Scaup, and now Red-necked Grebe. But I'm missing the patch, and I'm due a goodie I reckon. London has been fantastic this year, but bar the five Brent Geese that Stuart saw flying over (and that may well have gone over my house, except I wasn't in it to see them), Wanstead hasn't really cashed in. Tomorrow though, all that will change. Oh yes.

Here, have a rather good photo of a Scaup. After various people commented that my phone-scoped shots were on the poor side of abysmal, I've switched to using my little Samsung NV3. The results I think speak for themselves.

Beginnings

Yesterday, before thoughts of Dusky Warbler even entered my tiny brain, we went on a pilgrimage of sorts. I meant to write about it yesterday, but got a bit distracted by ornithological highlights of the tick variety. In case you were intested, debate still rages about the exact identity of the Rainham geese at the weekend. No? Thought not.

The pilgrimage was to Becktonia, where we used to live. A bit like Belgravia, but with more pylons. I wanted to show Muffin where he was born. Precisely where he was born in fact.

It was here, through the open window in the ivy-covered house. That was our bedroom, and he was born towards the back of the room on the left. He was actually fairly interested, as perhaps you can see. As young, naive, and nervous parents-to-be, we took a tour of the maternity ward at the local hospital. As we stepped over a dried pool of blood to be shown a windowless birthing room with shiny steel bits, we decided that perhaps this wasn't for us. Alternative options were thin on the ground, so we decided to have him (it, at that stage) at home. Many people counselled against this, what if something goes wrong etc, but the hospital was so vile we just couldn't do it. In the event everything was fine, and it was so brilliant in fact that we did it with numbers 2 & 3 where we now live. Six years on, it is rather nice to be able to take him back to where it all started. It's not quite as romantic with the other two, as we just have to walk to the front room, where they were born about six feet apart, near the sofa and piano respectively, but in time I am sure it will be. I was born in a hospital that no longer exists, I think it is posh flats now. Very sad. AND my school has been razed to the ground to make way for sheltered accomodation. Not even a blue plaque....

As you can see, the new owners have an ivy problem. A serious ivy problem. We enjoyed a love-hate relationship with the tivy. With House Sparrows in decline seemingly everywhere, our house in Becktonia was a haven, with a thriving colony living in the ivy, perhaps 50 birds. They were a real feature of our time there, you could hear them constantly, and five years on I remain highly attuned to the sound of Sparrows anywhere. One of the first things I did on moving here was to put one of those Sparrow hotels up on the front of the house, but to date nothing has used it. I miss those Sparrows.

We kept the ivy so that we could keep the Sparrows. The roots burrowed into the mortar, and made the front walls permanently damp. It was incredibly vigourous, and had to be trimmed three times a year before it got out of hand. This was one of the most horrible jobs imaginable. Coughing from four months of accumulated Sparrow "dust", up a very tall ladder, constantly squeezing the secateurs, and prizing ivy from brickwork, your fingers would redden to the point of raw. It took hours, and then you had to clean it all up and go to the dump. And you couldn't leave it, or just do it a bit, as once it goes over the guttering and onto the roof, you've had it. The new owners have officially "had it". It's over half way up the tiles, and all over the chimneys. Past the point of no return. Still, not my problem, I'm just very pleased that the Sparrows are still there and thriving, and Muffin was pretty pleased to see them too. In a way, they're his Sparrows.

Wow, what a day!

I mean, wow! A day of many ticks. But first some ritual Gull shame and humiliation. It has been over a week since I stuffed up a Gull, come on! Actually I'm not even going to bother posting a pic, and it isn't quite a stuff up. To cut a long story short, I got very excited by what I thought might be a Caspian Gull on the Basin today - naturally, after recently mentioning I check it daily and it NEVER has anything interesting on it. So excited that I sped home for the scope and camera. Unfortunately through the scope it clearly wasn't one, but it had a few features that had me going for a bit, including really rather long spindly legs. Happily I came to the sorrowful (but correct) conclusion that it was something else, probably a Lesser Black-backed, but there was some heavy breathing involved for a while. Bloody Gulls. Even in Wanstead, where large ones are fairly scarce, they taunt me.

Things went downhill further with a report of a Penduline Tit at Rainham which subsequently flew off before I had even managed to leave the house to twitch it. Lunch improved matters no end, and then came another call that the two grey Geese on Wennington Marsh were Pink-feet and not Bean Geese anymore. Hurrah, the best things come to those who wait! Met Hawky up there and got great scope views which confirmed it. Funny old thing though, as the two Tundra Beans from earlier in the year hadn't been seen for a while, and the two Dartford Pink-footed Geese I couldn't be bothered to go and see had disappeared just before the weekend. On Saturday, on a Peregrine mission for Muffin, we had seen these two Geese out on Wennington, and called them (along with many people far more qualified than myself) as Beans. It's stretching the bounds of possibility that the two Beans could disappear at precisely the same time that two Pink-feet arrive surely, but there you go, and anyway, who cares, as now I've seen both. A London and a Rainham tick.

Look! Pink!

On the way back from Rainham with my long-suffering children, the Walthamstow Dusky Warbler was finally confirmed. I had given it an hour yesterday with no joy, and wasn't anticipating being able to go back with kids who are unable to keep quiet (and why should they, they're six and two!) to listen out for a small warbler going "Tuk". But I went anyway as I felt it would be my best chance with so many people looking. This proved a wise decision, as there was no way I would have found it myself. My parenting skills took yet another step forward with some wall climbing, some fence hopping, and some canal crossing, but I managed to see it. To be clear, the kids didn't do any of that, just their irresponsible father. They stayed put on the path and watched birder after birder engage in heinous acts of trespass. And to cap a fine day where he also got the Pinkies for London, Muffin has now met the legendary LGRE. And even helped him see the bird by passing his scope over the fence to me to carry it across the canal to him. How many six year olds can say that? Not many, and with good reason probably. I've promised him that tomorrow will be dominated by Lego. It also promises to be dominated by sleet and other unpleasant things, and indeed so does the rest of half term, so I'm glad I got the birding in today.

I leave you with yet another reason why Wanstead is such a cool and happening place to live. We don't struggle for newsworthy items round here, there is always something really really important and interesting going on. Today was no exception.

I mean, please.

Local birding

No sign of the Turaco today, so back to boring native birds. Started off at first light on the Flats and came away mildly disappointed after two hours. No Snipe, no Pheasant, no Stonechat, no nothing. Instead I concentrated on trying to get a decent photo of a Fieldfare - more tricky than you might think. The direct approach didn't work at all, nor did trying to approach from cover. The best plan of attack turned out to be one of false insousiance, pretending to not notice them and making as if to walk past, and then suddenly stop, point, and fire. You have about two seconds to take a photo before they scarper. Maybe if I'd have been whistling nonchalantly I'd have had three seconds....

The usual gulls and so on were at Alexandra Lake, as well as an unusually large Brown Rat. These are becoming problematic - too many people insist on chucking food out for the birds, including some special protein items today. Greylag were down to about six following the high-count of thirteen I had in the week. And, needless to say, nothing on the Basin.

Common Gull

Mother's Pride. Kind of.

Many people can't read...

...and this is the result

The rest of the morning was spent mucking about with the family, and cooking brunch. My first pancakes - the american style of my childhood. Turned out to be remarkably easy, though rather painstaking. Did a double recipe which was demolished in no time at all. Then off for some father-son bonding at Rainham. Not my usual selfish behaviour, this was a special request. He wanted to see Peregrine, his favourite bird, and who was I to refuse? We found one pretty much immediately at one of the usual riverside locations, but whilst obviously a Peregrine, it was unsatisfyingly distant. A quick scan of the pylons of the far side of Wennington soon produced the goods though, and he got excellent views of a perched male through the scope whilst I chatted to a couple of mates. Got back home well before I said I would for some excess Brownie Points, which I plan to wantonly burn tomorrow. All day. Saint who?

Escape not ruled out!

As I was off out this afternoon, this flew past the house. Needless to say, a patch first for me. Unringed, and only allowed approach to about eight feet, so must be kosher. The vagrancy potential for this species has perhaps been overlooked, but it seemed in good health despite the long journey it has no doubt undertaken. Haven't noticed any strong southerlies, but stranger things have happened. White-cheeked Turaco, native to the Ethiopian highlands, is a relatively common cage bird of course, but until someone can prove otherwise, it's on the list. Innocent until proven guilty? Seems fair to me. Tick!

Outraged, of Wanstead

I had a minor hangover this morning - too much red wine on a school night. Nothing heinous, just a dull ache, but enough to make me mildly tetchy this morning. So when I arrived at Tesco to find all the child and parent places taken up by the self-centred, egotistical, inconsiderate, lazy and selfish I somewhat lost my rag. How about that, no swearing. And it would have been so easy to (Parus is my role model). Anyway, as one bloke got out of his car, I asked him out of the window how many children he had, and was it more than the two I had? He told me to get f...... and walked on into the shop. Nice. Shame I wasn't in the Landrover, then I could have parked on top of his car.

Tesco Customer Services were quite sympathetic about it, but sadly not to the point of banning him from their shop and towing away his car. No, they provide nice wide spaces temptingly close to the shop, but can do nothing to enforce them. Or choose not to enforce them, whichever. Instead they rely on people to do the right thing. They rely on kindred-spirit, on the wholesome goodness of their customers, on human nature. They must be out of their minds! As I have perhaps alluded to in the past, when was the last time you saw anyone go out of their way for anyone else? It basically doesn't happen anymore. No, these days it is every man for himself, and the rest of you can go hang yourselves. If there are a few spaces next to a shop specially marked out for those in need (ie me), there are more than enough people in this country who will not even think twice and just park in them, and the needy be damned. So what can we do about it? Not a lot really. Vigilanteism is not to be encouraged, and in many places you probably risk getting stabbed for your troubles, so you have to let it go. The meek shall inherit the earth? Not likely, not in London anyway. I'd write to my MP, except he's self-centred, egotistical, inconsiderate etc, and been forced to quit over £60,000 of expenses he wasn't entitled to. Bet he parks in the parent and child spaces too.

Before I torched his car, I took a photo of it. Name and shame. Well, don't know his name, could probably find it out, and shame. Or something.

KG03, in case you find the post troublesome.

And here is another, a BMW convertible. Always likely to contain a gaggle of children for the weekly shop. Couldn't see any kiddy seats in it, perhaps it was a baby seat and was now on the trolley, and the suit-jacket spread out on the back seat was just thrown there whilst trying to marshal troublesome children onto the pavement?

Note distressed child on right.

I didn't find the guy in the shop. Perhaps fortunately, as he may have left with an imprint of Leica 10x42s in his forehead. Just kidding. They're 7x42s.

On the way home I checked the Basin. Again. I have been remarkably diligent about checking the Basin on a daily basis. So far, and despite the cold weather of rare duck-influx happiness, I have found precisely nothing. My best find of 2010 has been a Great Crested Grebe. Twice. Well whoopeedoo. If you're wondering why there hasn't been much of Wanstead recently it's because there hasn't been much in Wanstead recently. I've been birding various areas on an almost daily basis, but February is a tough month for patchworkers. Generally in your January enthusiasm you have picked up most of what is likely already, and February is therefore rather lean. The Pheasant was great though, and if I hadn't mentioned it, I managed to see the White-fronted Geese in the Ingrebourne earlier in the week as well. And to complete the goose list, yesterday there were two Pink-footed Geese in Dartford, but I couldn't be bothered to go all the way over there. The mere thought of needing to cross the bridge defeated me. So much for a London list this year.