Countdown

I apologise in advance for what is a highly predicatable post, but one that is wholly consistent with what birding means to me. It’s about Wheatears, and their almost imminent arrival. Over the last three years, Wheatears have arrived on Wanstead Flats on March 14th, March 20th, and March 29th. Doing the maths, if you take the median, it’s the 20th; if you take the average, it’s the 21st. I wonder what the median for this post is? Anyway, this year is a leap year, obviously none of the last three were, and even though the Wheatears are likely oblivious, the earlier date is perhaps the more accurate to use. Actually it’s probably not accurate at all, the birds will come when they come, but either way it could be excitingly soon. 69 days - that's less than ten weeks.

By then the light will be birdable by about 5.20am. That’s not the best time for passerines, they tend to rise later, but it gives me a chance to get out and have a poke around before needing to be back for the school run. You cannot possibly conceive of how tragically excited I already am. In terms of excitement levels, it’s a toss up between January 1st and Wheatear arrival. Or perhaps I’m just a tosser? No matter. Non-birders, non patch-workers, may sneer at the pathetic dribble that is my life, but there is practically nothing that I look forward to more in March, not even my birthday. Which as it happens is also in March, so there is the possibility that the first Wheatear will arrive on THE day, and that I will find it. Hasn’t happened yet, but you would hear the whoops from anywhere within the M25 I reckon.

"Phwoarrrrr!"

So, just what is it about Wheatears? There are very few other regular birds that provoke these feelings. Firecrests, for example, are pretty damn smart, and I never tire of seeing them, but they’re not in the same league as Wheatears, or at least not for me. Perhaps it’s that Wheatears are the first trans-Saharan migrants to make it back each year. For us, having just gone though a miserable and dark four or five months, they probably herald the start of warmth and daylight. It’s true that I don’t look forward to the first returning autumn birds in the same way, but then again, a 1W Wheatear isn’t quite the same as a spring male. Spring male Wheatears are the birds that words like “cracking” and “stonking” were designed for. You can say that about Red-flanked Bluetails and Red-breasted Flycatchers, but deep down you know you should be reserving the accolade for talking about Wheatears. The sparkling silvery-grey mantle and head, the white forehead contrasting beautifully with the broad black eye-stripe, the warm throat and slightly buffy flanks. And the rump! The flash of white that catches your eye, that draws you in. That’s what you have drilled into your subconscious in March – visions of bounding white.

That funny Common Gull

Now there's a title guaranteed to pull in the readers! And even ones who like Gulls - both of you - may be put off by the horror of a couple of scabby Common Gulls. On Jan 1st I found a Common Gull with an extremely streaked head - if you lined all the Gulls up in order of head-streakiness, with pure white on the left, this gull would be on the far right hand side. Wouldn't it would be nice if you could command gulls to do that, make it far easier. Anyhow, I wondered whether it was the same bird that I had seen in November, another one with a strikingly dark head.

I managed to take a photograph of each one, though unfortunately from opposite sides. I've studied then for well over five minutes now and can't make up my mind, so over to you. For what it's worth I think the streaking on the head seems very similar towards the front, more or less similar around the eyes - though I am wondering, with the bird's posture similar in each shot - whether the dark streak behind the eye isn't at a different angle on each bird. Hey ho. Moving on, a lot less similar at the back, on the nape, where the January bird (facing right) seems far darker. That said, there is a faint yet obvious whitish divide/collar between the really dark streaking on the rear of the neck and the side of the face on both birds, though it appears more distinct on the November bird (facing left). Bill colour is an obvious difference, but I can't positively say that January bird hasn't just got a bit muddy.

I'm not going to go into Ps, as frankly I have no idea what they are, but if you look at the tip of P27, you'll see a little bit of white. Is that right? Almost impossible to compare as we're looking at a different side of each bird, and they're not necessarily a mirror image. I reckon they're pretty much the same, though I can't see that darker feather on the upper back of the November bird as being present on the January bird, or at least not on the side I can see.

November

January

The other problem is that the light was dreadful on January 1st - conditions so dire that the bird looks purple - just look at the BH Gull next to it, they look almost the same shade of purple. Making any comparisons of the mantle colour is fraught with danger. So, the two bird theory? I'm almost convinced, but not quite. We do have a lot of Common Gulls on the Flats, and I'm sure that the population has a fair bit of turnover as I don't, for instance, see the scabby white-winged one every time, nor this/these darker-headed bird/birds. Could there really be two birds with ridiculous streaking like this 40 days apart. Well, very likely there could. A horrible thought indeed. Much better is this one. Spot on I'd say.

Bugger

A mixed day today. Highlights were discovering two Kingfishers and a Grey Wagtail on the Roding with Steve. Low point was discovering that I hadn't, as I had thought, got away with dropping my camera on Southend Pier yesterday. I had only just started birding, and had found a Coal Tit in Reservoir Wood. As a patch year-tick, it needed recording, so I raised the camera upwards.... God-dammit, why isn't it focussing. And hang on a minute, why is the viewfinder all blurry? Return the camera to horizontal and all fine again. Eh? Give it a shake - ah. I'm not sure it should be rattling like that... It's been coming for a while to be honest, I tend to be fairly unforgiving. The cameras I use are built like tanks, and more often than not they just bounce and continue working just fine. I've got away with it more than a few times, but this time I've been caught out and am likely going to end up several hundred pounds poorer. Mind you, the Purple Sand was definitely worth it. Grrrrrr.

I returned home and got another camera - I am lucky enough/forward-thinking enough to have a spare in case the worst happens. This meant I could take this, so we can easily see that having a DSLR gathering dust in a cupboard has been an entirely worthwhile use of funds.

Can you see the bird? The habitat is a clue...

Southend Purple Sandpiper

I have been meaning to get myself down Southend Pier for about a month. The opportunities have been few and far between, as you need decent weather, daylight, and the high tide to all coincide so that you can see an ickle Purple Sandpiper roosting with Turnstones. These all aligned today, so I went for it. Disgusting parking charges at Southend for a cold January weekend, they only let you off on Christmas Day and Good Friday - who do they think they are, Westminster? I harrumphed, paid, and hastened to the Pier, there to miss a train by the minute I spent being all upset about parking charges. That'll learn me. Instead I went and ate some chips and saw a few Med Gulls, of which there are loads in Southend. The Med Gulls also ate some chips, but I couldn't be bothered to unpack the camera.

An Essex tick no less

Plenty of Med Gulls as well, all desperate to be photographed for this blog. How could I refuse?

And of course, lots and lots of these, running all around me and making cute noises.

A Challenging Year ahead

2012 is turning out to be the year of the challenge. I like a challenge, especially if is to do with birds. I have a separate weight-loss challenge going on, but that’s another story – in January, birds are far more interesting, and it’s much easier to seek out a Great Crested Grebe than it is to not eat a cake. So I’ve already mentioned Anas fantabulosa, the Patch List Challenge, and after the fine start on January 1^st I’m currently topping the leaderboard. The rest of the contestants assure me it’s only temporary, and I’m sure they’re right. Most of the birds on a Wanstead year-list are resident. I’ve lived here long enough to know where exactly it is they are resident, and so January 1^st is simply an exercise in walking round to those places and ticking them off if they’re there. This time around, most of them were. I reckon I have about eight more that are here somewhere, and then anything else for the whole rest of the year is either a regular summer breeding visitor, or a passage migrant. There are about ten regular summer breeders, about ten regular passage migrants, and the rest, perhaps 15-20 birds, is pot luck. And it’s the pot luck birds that make all of us patch-workers jump up and down, and are the birds that will determine where the Golden Mallard goes this year. I’m not dusting off my mantelpiece just yet.

Then there is the Peanut Challenge. Yesterday was my first day back in the Office. By about lunchtime my work year-list stood on one, a Pigeon. I mean literally one – a solitary Pigeon. Canary Wharf is not conducive to birds. James A, a man with a similarly bird-free work patch at Tower Bridge,  commented that he was on the grand total of three for the year. I immediately went and stood by the window until I had seen three more birds, which were two Mallards, a Coot, and a Crow. Hah, four, take that Mr A! Then James went for a walk at lunch and added nine more. Gah! This meant I too had to go for a walk, which netted me a further six, including a Blue Tit! Blue Tits are mega, but I was still behind. Thus was born the 2012 Peanut Challenge. Which of these two awful patches was truly the worst? Which one can consistently produce nothing but dross? Now you can’t have a competition based on who can see the least, as it would end up a no-score draw, so it has to be the other way around. It has to be who sees the most, and anyway, this way, even when one of us “wins”, the other can still feel proud that his work patch is truly the shittest. Everyone’s, as they say, a winner.

The stakes are high. As the name of the challenge hints at, the loser has to buy the winner a packet of peanuts. I worked here for over ten years and my patch list stands at 35. That’s truly terrible. Involve a small snack item however, and all of a sudden I’m birding it like I’ve never birded it before! Today I spent twenty-five minutes strategically placed at the far south-eastern corner of the patch (see map), and stared steadfastly east. Well there’s no point looking back into the patch, is there? I’ve already told you, there aren’t any birds there. No, the peanut-winning tactic is face outwards and strain to see birds on the far horizon that never even come near the patch. This resulted in no fewer than two Magpies, three (yes, 3!) Woodpigeons, and a flock of about 60 Starlings whizzing about over near the Dome somewhere. Closer in were a pair of Tufted Duck, a bird I didn’t think I’d get as I’ve actually reduced the patch boundaries from the previous ten years to exclude the basin they usually get on, a Moorhen, and 11 Great Crested Grebes. Wow, all of a sudden I’m on 16, and have yet to see a Great Black-backed Gull. Grey Heron, Mute Swan, Canada Goose, Peregrine and Pied Wagtail should all be relatively easy, but after them there are no expected birds left. My work patch is so awful that it tops out at 22, after which it becomes pot luck, just like Wanstead.

It is basically entirely concrete, and incredibly densely populated by humans. There is a lot of water, but again, it’s almost entirely concrete-sided. So far I have found one floating structure that you might call habitat, but a lot of florescent yellow people are currently demolishing a building right next to it, and one presumes that once they’re finished doing that, a bunch of similarly-coloured people are going to arrive and start erecting a new one. My hopes are not high for anything using this habitat in the near future. There are three green spaces. One is in the middle of a roundabout above an underground carpark. It’s a small circular patch of exquisitely-manicured grass surrounded by a circle of London planes. It was in one of these planes that I was staggered to find the Blue Tit yesterday. The second green space is a rectangular patch of grass between Canary Wharf Tower and Waitrose. It currently has an Ice Rink on top of it, but has not been enhanced by Penguins. Later on in the year it will be covered by cars and stuff, and then by various marquees, stages and bandstands. During the short time that it might actually be grass, there is a slim possibility of a thrush visiting it – I live in hope. The third and final green space is south of here, built on top of the Jubilee line station. It is some kind of exhibition garden complete with some water sculptures. Again, it is manicured to within an inch of its life, and being right next to the station and having a path on it to the new shopping centre, is incredibly busy. I did once see a Grey Wagtail on the water sculpture, boy what a day that was - I can still visualise it now. Needless to say it remains the only Grey Wag I’ve seen here, and likely will be forever.

Given that I don’ t work here every day, it’s difficult to say what I might get to. I had initially thought that 20-25 might be a par performance, but the additional enthusiasm generated by the thought of a free packet of peanuts means that I’m going to raise my target to 35. Yup, I’m going to see as many birds in a year as I did in the previous ten, and from within a smaller area. 2012 truly is the year of the challenge.

Seeing lots of birds in Norfolk

It has more or less become traditional to bird the patch on January the first, and then have a big day out somewhere on January 2^nd. Last year we went to Norfolk for the day, the year before that, Essex. Looking at a map of “where good birds are at” made it an easy choice yesterday, especially as one of our number needed the Western Sandpiper that is still hanging around at Cley.

I was out waiting on the pavement at 6am sharp, and the boys (Bradders, Monkey, and Hawky) arrived a short while later. En route, the ever sharp-eyed Hawky bagged Barn Owl and Woodcock to ensure the day-list (and the year list) got off to a flying start. Our first stop Fakenham for the interestingly-pale Great Grey Shrike. None of us were quite ready for the intense cold in North Norfolk, especially after the mildest start to January since 1821 which saw me severely over-dressed for my big day in Wanstead. I severely under-compensated and was thus almost immediately freezing, and the Shrike was not an early-riser. Whilst waiting, a load of year ticks made themselves known, including two coveys of Grey Partridge, a species I had failed to see last year. Eventually the Shrike deigned to wake up and gave excellent and prolonged views until we could stand the cold no longer and retreated to the warmth of the car, which with Paul, Monkey and especially me in it, was extremely cosy.

Definitely a very pale bird, not as washed-out as in Steppe, but you can see why people wondered about Homeyeri. I know nothing about such things, but I understand the wing formula, in particular the configuration of the white panel, is wrong for this sub-species. I thought I heard it mutter “doh!” a couple of times, but I don’t know enough about the vocalisations to know if this is diagnostic. None of this matters one jot of course, it is a Shrike, and can be enjoyed regardless. A local who had seen the bird a few times told us it had a larder in the middle of the hedge, but you couldn’t tell where it was; had we known we could have scoped it for evidence of doughnuts....

So, with two birds under the belt that I hadn’t seen in 2011, we carried on to Cley for the Western Sand, which showed immediately, though much further away than last month, which was a shame as it meant I couldn’t get any colour on it all. It still reminded me of a small Dunlin though, in the same way that Semi-Ps don’t. Next stop Salthouse, the target being coffee from the man with the miniature coffee van who can regularly be found at the beach carpark and makes excellent and extremely reasonably-priced coffee – Starbucks take note – a superb coffee in fantastic surroundings for £1.25. As I waited for the brewing process to complete, and looked longingly at the box of biscuits, a shout came from the beach  - “Glauc!” Hawky, as is seemingly normal, had done it again. Coffee in hand, he had wandered up the shingle bank and the first bird he had clapped eyes on was a first winter Glaucous Gull flying past. We all scrambled up the slope to make sure we got on this “beauty” before it disappeared out of sight, but happily it landed on the sea, caught a seal, and then came and sat on the beach to eat it. Other punters weren’t so lucky – we had phoned the news out straight away, and this being North Norfolk in early January, birders began to arrive thick and fast, but not fast enough. The gull polished off the seal in under five minutes and then continued its journey east, I think we were the only people to see it, which was a shame.

Pleased with this, as well as a bonus Snow Bunting we had kicked up on the shingle whilst trying to get closer to the gull, we turned back west towards Wells. A quick scan of the Brent flock on the pitch and putt course bagged one of the Black Brants as well as a Pale-bellied, and following up news of a Rough-legged Buzzard in the Holkham area, we were not surprised to pick it up from the car. A convenient layby appeared and we all rapidly bailed out (to the extent really fat people can get out of vehicles quickly). It was a partically leucistic bird, with extremely pale upperparts, and for a while I remained unconvinced that it wasn’t a funny Common Buzzard, but luckily the tail pattern was seen. Rough-leg was another species I hadn’t seen in 2011, annoyingly racked-up only a few days after it’s all over. Shows quite how bizarre year-listing is, or more accurately, how bizarre not year-listing is. Had I been year-listing, presumably I would have made sure to be in Norfolk a few days earlier...

The real target of the day, for me at least, was the Coue’s Arctic Redpoll at Titchwell. I had never seen this sub-species, or maybe that’s “variation on the Redpoll scale”. The initial signs were not good, cars parked all the way along the entrance track, and barely any room in the carpark. It was clearly going to be one of those afternoons. The usual comedy of watching a tricky bird with masses of other people at Titchwell ensued, but I got superb scope views of the bird as it fed with both Mealy (or what I’d call a Mealy at any rate), and a bunch of standard Lessers. The bird on Shetland in 2011 had initially been called as a Coue’s, and on first impression, I’d say that that bird looked whiter, but Redpolls are a lesson in the need for close (very close!) observation and attention to detail - as multiple previous failings have taught me - and gradually I built up a picture of the bird at Titchwell which I am pretty happy with. It might not be a tick, and indeed Redpolls could go the other way and lose me a tick or two, but it was a great bird. Needless to say, I hadn’t seen Arctic Redpoll in 2011.....

Buoyed by this success, I decided to leave the masses and walk down to the beach. There was, however, no avoiding the masses – I have never seen the place so busy. The need for year-tickage dominated though, so we stuck it out ‘til the bitter end, ‘til we had scooped up all available new birds, including two Scaup, yet another 2011 miss. What on earth was happening – that was the fifth bird I hadn’t seen in 2011, scooped up with no hassle whatsoever. The sea held two Whooper Swans, clearly also fed up with the number of people, not including us, on the reserve, a single Velvet Scoter, and perhaps a thousand Common Scoter about a mile out to sea all flying round in a huge circle, literally a ring. Any ideas why, as I have never seen anything like it. Maybe they're all feeling a bit fat from just bobbing about on the sea, and so this is their version of the January exercise regime.

We finished up at Flitcham, where I am happy to report that I dipped Little Owl. That really would have taken the biscuit, but the trees were empty. Instead we jammed a ringtail Hen Harrier, before heading back to London on 90 species. I’m not year-listing – I never do – but my records tell me that this is my best start ever. Not to worry though, I have high hopes of fading fast.

A good list and a good soaking

I didn't even make it to midnight last night. At about 10pm, yawning my head off, I looked at Mrs L and asked why exactly we were planning on staying up for another pointless two hours? Let's face it, we're not young any more, so we went to bed. I vaguely recall some fireworks (not those kind of fireworks....) that probably indicated midnight, but I didn't even open my eyes to check.

This nice long sleep meant I actually managed to get out of bed at 7am, some three hours earlier than I seem to have managed for about a week. By 7.30 I was on the patch, and I birded it 'til dusk, which I have not done for a very very long time. And you know what? It was great, absolutely brilliant - until it started to rain, which it did, very heavily, until dusk. I actually deserve some kind of patch-birding medal, as at the point it started raining I was about five minutes from home, and I could very easily have gone back, especially as I had just scored Firecrest and had equalled my January 1st daylist from last year. In the event, I pulled on my waterproofs and went round the patch again.

So how did I do? Well, I wanted 60, which I thought was more than doable, and I ended up blowing it out of the water by a huge margin. My sixty-second and final species was a Collared Dove in a housing estate on the edge of the park, which had somehow eluded me all day. But back to the beginning, might as well draw it out....

I met Nick near Jubilee just after first light, and Tim joined us quite soon afterwards. By then we were on about 20 species. Jubilee added around eight or nine entirely expected birds, and then came something rather special. Tim and I picked up a raptor overheard going west, the shape seemed familiar....Peregrine! Presumably one of the Stratford birds, but even though that's only just around the corner, for some reason we hardly ever see them - this sighting was only my ninth in six years - well, seven now. A great start, and then almost the very next bird was a good one too, a Great Black-backed Gull heading in the same direction.

"homage a Dave Mo"

We continued over the road, adding Kestrel, Skylark and a few others, and then whilst Nick went off for coffee (and excelled himself by also sourcing bacon butties), Tim and I grilled the enormous number of Gulls sitting on the playing fields. First up was either the same Common Gull with very dark streaking on the head that I saw about a month ago, or if not, a very similar one. I'll look at the photos side by side another time, right now I'm a bit gulled-out. We counted at least 30 Lesser Black-backed, about 15 Herring Gulls, and had been looking through them for at least five minutes when I suddenly noticed that slap bang in the middle of them was this:

How on earth you miss a Great Black-backed I have no idea, they're not exactly inconspicuous, but somehow we had looked through it. We eagerly scanned through them again, in case we had also missed Med, Yellow-legged, Ring-billed, Franklin's or Pallas's... but we hadn't, and so continued, refuelled, to the Alex, there to add Greylag, Tuftie and a bonus Teal. A quick search of scrub netting a Greenfinch, and then we headed off to the Park. Reed Bunting, a miss on the Flats, was notched up in the Old Sewage Works, as was Sparrowhawk, but our hopes of a clean sweep were dashed when we couldn't find Snipe, Bullfinch or Little Egret - the OSW is about the only place for them.

Tim (l), Nick (r)

By now about lunchtime, it was off to the Tea Hut for refreshments. As expected, Crufts was in full swing, and there were so many people I had to queue to get the teas in, which allowed Nick to scoop a Kingfisher behind my back, a feat he later repeated on the Roding. Firecrest in Bush Wood was next on the list, via a flock of Redpolls (24 Mealy, 1 Arctic), and on the way we bumped into Paul D, who had just dipped them. He came back with us, and whilst we all saw one, he dipped them again. At this point it began to rain, perhaps to coincide with Paul's mood. Tim, who lives near me, cut his losses and went home for some lunch, and Paul wandered back to the park. A crossroads loomed. Back home for lunch, like Tim, or waterproofs on, and over the Ornamental Waters via the Basin. Thoroughly soaked, and having just missed Kingfisher #2, I wondered if I had made the wrong decision. Arriving at the OSW again, I turned for home. Nick decided he would take one more quick spin around the area. Knowing what would happen, I turned back and came with him. And what a decision that turned out to be! We had gone less than two-hundred yards when five Bullfinches flew out of a Hawthorn, and the Little Egret was hunched up on the Roding! Leaving the site, a Chiffie called a couple of times, and the walk back home produced the Collared Doves. 62 species! Stonking. Of course that's me done until the first Wheatear turns up, but nonetheless an intensely satisfying day, and well worth a good soaking.