Wanstead: Land of the Wader

I am still on a massive high from Sunday’s waderfest. As you may have gathered from the comments section, I went out for a few celebratory beers on Sunday night. When I got home I decided to write up the day, and inexplicably missed out the six Golden Plover that I had just spent several hours toasting, and also neglected to post a photo of the Jack Snipe. Funny old stuff, beer.  Anyway, as has been pointed out, days like Sunday are indeed the stuff that humble patch-workers live for, and that justify the very many days when they see nothing at all. When I first arrived in the bird mecca that is Wanstead, it quickly became apparent that waders were mythical. This was probably exacerbated by my also birding Rainham Marshes regularly, which, back when they had water, was wader central. Gradually though, my list of patch waders is increasing.

Better late than never

I know many readers enjoy nerdy bird stats, and though I detest them myself, for the sake of demonstrating how Wanstead is in fact excellent for Waders, I totted up how many different waders I’ve seen here. The answer? Twelve! That’s basically most of them though isn’t it? The most numerous in terms of sheer numbers is Lapwing – even before yesterday. In terms of numbers of sightings, it’s Snipe, who winter regularly. Then comes Common Sand, which is the most numerous of the passage waders, and is a banker every year. After that though, you’re talking about ones and twos at best - apart from Golden Plover, which now number six (woohoo!!). Two Wood Sandpipers, two Green Sandpipers, two Woodcocks, one Oystercatcher, one Dunlin, one Little Ringed Plover, one Jack Snipe, one Stone Curlew (wow), and that’s the sum of my wader sightings in six years here. Meagre, but improving. Since I’ve lived here, there have also been some Black-tailed Godwits, a few flyover Whimbrels, and a flyover Ringed Plover, none of which I’ve seen, but I tell myself that 12 out of 15 ain’t at all bad, and anyway, it builds expectation, which is crucial to patch birding.

Wanstead is in London’s zone 3; most of Wanstead Flats probably classifies as zone 2. We’re under two miles from the Olympic stadium, seven and half miles from Trafalgar Square, and four miles from the Thames at its closest point. That we get any waders at all is probably a miracle, especially such quality as Wood Sand and Stone Curlew. Then again, waders seem to move along defined flight paths that we do not understand, and it could be that Wanstead is on one. For instance, why did Wanstead Flats get all those Lapwings yesterday, whereas Wanstead Park got practically none? The two are less than half a mile apart. And why have I seen 450 Lapwings in the six years that I have lived here, whereas Paul H has seen only four at Mayesbrook Park, a mere three miles away as the Lapwing flies, and only a mile from the river, in twenty years? Perhaps he’s just rubbish?!

Waders are definitely the most challenging group of birds to see here. Apart from Divers. Oh, and Bee-eaters... OK, so amongst the most challenging to see here. Anyway, it makes them objects of intense desire. A Dunlin anywhere else holds no interest for me unless I can take its picture at point blank range; in Wanstead, I’d be running. Part of the challenge is getting to the ponds before our four-legged friends do, which given that people walk their dogs in the dark here, is often very difficult. Nonetheless I have high hopes this year of adding a couple more waders to my tally. Top of the list is probably Whimbrel, but Curlew and Grey Plover could happen. Or maybe I’m just a little giddy with excitement and need to go and have a lie down.

Wood Sandpiper, April 2011

Dunlin, April 2010

LRP, March 2011

Winter Waderland

Where do I start? Today has been one of the best days I've had on the patch ever. That includes autumn days with multiple Whinchats, Ring Ouzels and Pied Flycatchers - this is right up there. It has been monumental. As a measure of quite how stunning it has been, if I told you I had had two patch ticks, would you believe me?

The snow was far more impressive this morning that I had imagined that it would be. I didn't get up especially early, but the way the day was going to pan out was made fairly clear during family breakfast, when three Egyptian Geese flew over. Hurrah! Lucky I didn't tick those ones the other day eh?! I left the house with a broad smile on my face. Won't be long, I said, just going to check a few of the ponds for rare sawbills, and then I'll be right back. By the time I crawled sheepishly back in at about half three, I'd had an absolute stunner.

Started off at the Basin - heaving with ducks, though nothing out of the norm. Yesterday's Wigeon, present at dusk, had gone over night, but there were good numbers of Gadwall, Pochard and Tuftie. A greenkeeper was disappointingly present (why?), so the trespassing I had in mind had to be postponed, and instead I hastened to Heronry. There was a still a bit of open water, so I busied myself taking pictures of very cold birds. Whilst doing that a Grey Wag flew in, a Kingfisher flew past, and a Snipe flew over - all good birds. Steve then pitched up having walked the Roding, and so I suggested we head down to the Flats where we might get some wide horizons - Lapwing, I said confidently, could be on the cards.

We had been on the Flats perhaps ten minutes when a flock of 25 Lapwing flew over our heads going west. Win. About two minutes later another 58 went over, followed by another 43. In the space of five minutes my Wanstead Lapwing count had almost trebled. Walking to meet Nick over the other side, another 19 came by, and as we stood chewing the fat, another 13 came over, as well as two Snipe. My wader-lust sated, I headed for home. Two minutes later Nick called - 100+ Lapwings coming your way. Wanstead's biggest flock of Lapwings ever then flew across my bins, too many to count, I got to 120 before they were lost and was only 2/3rds of the way along the line. Trying to pick them up in the grey sky, another group of 40+ hove into view. What on earth was going on? That took my day total to 320 birds!

The bird has a metal ring on its left leg. Is the Ilford bird ringed?

"beep beep" - incoming from Crofty - Think I've got a Med Gull on Alex, not sure, bins rather steamed up. Steve and I turned around, Nick has an exceptionally good Med Gull record. To cut a long story short, it was one, and this piece of good fortune changed the course of the day. Whilst photographing the Med Gull, another Snipe flew in. It skittered over the ice and came to rest under the overhanging branches of the island. I grabbed a shot of it before a beligerent Coot flushed it out again, and it skittered around for a few seconds and then dived back in. I remarked that it looked quite small, and quickly looked at my photograph. Oh my God, Jack Snipe. By this time Tim had turned up on the other side of the water for the Med Gull, and attracted by our frantic waving and pointing, got on the bird as it had another flutter. He could see it clearly and confirmed that it was Wanstead's first Jack Snipe since 1979. We joined him on the other side and enjoyed excellent views as this diminutive mega-wader bounced up and down for all (well, most) comers. A number of other local birders turned up for this stonking bird, and as we were all looking at it, I happened to glance behind us and picked up six Golden Plover almost over our heads - I am reliably informed that my shout was heard in West Ham, and most of my fellow Snipe-watchers jumped out of their skins. I hadn't even considered Jack Snipe as a possibility, but I have been waiting for that Golden Plover moment for about five years. The only slight anti-climax was that they were headed for my house...

To further bore you with numbers, my Lapwing day count ended up at 373 - to think that a week ago it was 46 in six years. Both the Snipe and the Plover were patch ticks, and the Geese were, ahem, a garden tick. Yesterday saw the biggest group of Wigeon I've seen here, and two lifers down in Sussex. A staggering weekend by anyone's standards. What will tomorrow bring?

Oh, and I almost forgot to metion the Great White Egret on Heronry. I know they're getting commoner, but to get one in Wanstead was amazing.

Tall, slim, white, with a yellowish beak. Not sure what else it could be?

Oh My God, More Birds!!!

Much more of this and people will think they have stumbled upon a birding blog.... I would however like to point out that my fascist rant about Raymond the Unworthy drew the most comments I have ever had on a single post, ie way more than I have ever had about anything bird related. Therein lies a lesson I suspect, but anyway, it is time to move on.

As I type, it is snowing in Wanstead, although rather pathetically. The media (damn them!) has been building up this apocalyptic snow-storm for about a week now; it stands to reason that it is going to be a complete non-event. Today was very much not a non-event, which makes it an event I suppose. 2012 has continued to surprise with a series of completely unexpected and rather tasty birds. Though I rarely stray off patch, a few weeks ago a short excursion netted a rather smart Spanish Sparrow and a rather nice Dark-eyed Junco. Unseasonal to say the least. So when last week news broke of a Parrot Crossbill in Sussex, followed shortly after by, of all things, a Paddyfield Warbler should be wintering in India, naturally it followed that Bradders would be going for both of them at the weekend. OK, twist my arm then.....

Chunk McChunk?

Who cares what you assign it as? Quality.

Both birds were apparently early morning jobbies, which did not bode well. With negative news of the Warbler on Friday, and suspecting it could have succumbed the dreadful and apocalyptic conditions, we made the difficult decision to start with the Crossbill on the basis that this was more likely to get us a tick, whereas if we started with the Warbler we could easily dip both and come home empty-handed. Nick pitched up at my place at stupid o'clock, and we picked up the Monkey en route, making good time via -7.5c temperatures to Black Down in West Sussex. On arrival we learned that the Paddyfield Warbler was showing well.....

Not to worry, as soon the Crossbill came in and demonstrated to one and all why it had been picked out. The beak was immense, though not monumental - I guess there is a lot of variation - but the bird itself was extremely chunky, noticeably larger than the Common Crossbills it was associating with. Tick, I think. Crossbills are a funny one - I've seen large-billed Crossbills in the Caledonian pine forests, and without much thought bunged them down as Scottish, for no other reason than I felt they were commoner than Parrot, hence I was being conservative. Ahem. In reality, whilst perhaps not approaching the minefield that is Redpoll speciation, they are indistinct enough to probably not be doable in the field, so who knows what I saw. Does Scottish Crossbill travel? Are any large-billed Crossbills away from Abernethy automatically Parrot? Pass. I have no idea. Call it Parrot as that's the one I need, job's a goodun.

Some Geese. About 3 was the general concensus.

With numb toes we walked back to the car. Whoever said it was 3/4 of a mile probably runs a marathon in about half an hour. More like about 1/4 of a mile. I did not complain. A roadside bacon butty van was much appreciated, and we were soon a Pagham Harbour wondering why we were there. We had no chance, none. As we quietly froze, word came down from up the line that the Paddyfield had been seen at the far side of the reed bed. I don't mind admitting that I totally rubbished this notion as pure fantasy, and continued enjoying the Stonechats. A little while later, the same call was made. Whatever. We did however shuffle up to where these calls were coming from, though with little expectation. The location was described, and in fact was a lot closer than we had originally understood. Weeeeeellll, maybe then. And then Bradders called it out, mere yards from where the poor and much-maligned original spotter had said it was. Whoever you are, I apologise profusely. It wasn't actually in reeds at all, it was grubbing about in the grass. Get. In. Wow, a two tick day, who would have thought it? Great and fairly prolonged scope views were had by all, and then, with thoughts of the immense carpeting of snow due any minute (just looked outside again, still rubbish), we headed for home.

Cetti's Wren

I have saved the best bit 'til last. On the way back I made Bradders stop at the Basin. It's mostly frozen now, and was crammed with wildfowl. And what was there? Two Wigeon? Three Wigeon? Four? No!! Five Wigeon!! Yes, FIVE Wigeon. That's a flock! Superb stuff!

A portion of FLOCK

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...