Cooling Marshes, Kent, 7th December 2014

Saturday, 29 March 2014

Hoopoe at Snodland

In a little over twenty four hours I'll be on my way to Extremadura in Spain, via Madrid. There's a fair chance I'll encounter a Hoopoe or two while I'm there, accustomed as they are to the sheltered groves and rich plains of western Spain. But it turns out I needn't have bothered - why go to Spain when you can go to Snodland?!

A few photos of the superb Hoopoe at Snodland this afternoon:

Hoopoe (Upupa epops) Snodland, 29/3/14

After a very enjoyable visit to Cliffe this morning, I stopped at Snodland for a look at the Hoopoe which has (remarkably) been present in the area since late-November. With the bird having kept a low profile for much of the winter, it was an opportunity to see a much-anticipated new bird for me in Britain and Kent, having missed it twice last week. Thankfully, this time I was put onto the bird straight away by another birder and had great views of it for half an hour as it spent some time preening on a low branch and then feeding energetically on the close cropped lawn at the back of the farm house. As I watched, it made short work of a number of worms and grubs, with its distinct, curved bill and looked comfortable in its adopted home north of its European breeding range. A fantastic bird and a great way to start the holiday!

Back soon - cheers!

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

The Cairngorms, March 2014

It's hard to describe what a stunning place the Cairngorms are, a simply magnificent wilderness of mountains, forests and lochs stretching as far as the eye can see. I've wanted to go for some time and last week I finally made it, taking the sleeper train after work on Wednesday and returning on Sunday night. Despite sore knees and blisters, it was a superb few days with some great walks and memorable birding.

The birds were hard won (mostly) with cold winds and frequent snow showers making it hard going at times, but I managed to see 4/5 of my trip ‘targets’. On the way down from Inverness I stopped for that most Scottish of specialities - American Coot at Loch Flemington, which I found after a bit of trial and error navigating. And there’s not much more to add really, a Lifer but whatever way you look at it, a Coot is a Coot is a...

American Coot (Fulica americana) Loch Flemington, Invernesshire 20/3/14

A scenic drive down to Grantown via Nairn bought the first of many Red Grouse as well as Curlews over the moors. Stopping in Abernethy Forest on the first afternoon I also picked up my one (and only) Crested Tit high in a pine along a track near Loch Mallachie. After finding my hostel for the night in Aviemore, I took a walk up to the peak overlooking the town through Craigellachie NR. A steep climb here through a bare woodland of twisted trees, heavy with bushy lichens, brought a large flock of 90+ siskins and redpolls, before my arrival at the top was greeted with the first of many snow flurries. However, a Peregrine calling above me on the descent, capped a good day.

Staying at the bunkhouse in Aviemore, the next morning I was up at 4.45am and back in Abernethy just after 6 to look for Capercaille. Finding my way to Forest Lodge in the dawn gloom was interesting, but the walk that morning was immense as I watched the sun rise and the snow fall over the forest. After several hours I had no luck with capers, despite following some good looking paths on my OS. But revelling in my surroundings, I continued walking on a track for about 90 minutes out to the mountain bothy at Ryvoan Pass. I waited here a while and it wasn't long before grouse began making their presence known. I was soon able to pick out three Black grouse amongst a dozen or more Red grouse. Against stony skies it was trickier to separate them in flight than I imagined but there was no doubting when I flushed a gorgeous male bird near the path on my way back and it arced beautifully past me in the warm morning light.

The circular route I took back towards Abernethy was largely quiet save for a single crossbill flying over and a Dipper that flashed past me on a stream, but it was livened up by the odd bit of improvisation required, including some agile shimmying across a fallen tree to cross a deep ford!

After the glorious start I decided to head up to Cairn Gorm to see what conditions were like. With a strong, icy wind across the base car park and the distant top station largely shrouded in cloud, a walk up didn't seem too promising but I headed up anyway picking a trail from the back of the visitor centre that took me closest to the most immediate, eastern ridge. It looked like the most obvious place any birds on the mountain would try and shelter out of the way of the westerlies blasting through. It wasn't long before I realised how tough the wind was when I spotted something swirling way out to my left. At first glance I cursed the fool who had let a plastic bag go here but getting my bins on it I could see it was an OS map disappearing into the distance, worse still, it was my OS map ripped right out of my rucksack pocket! Stumbling on, I pondered heading back and waiting a bit, but with the wind behind me decided against facing it. It proved to be a good decision as just a few steps further I spotted more movement out of the corner of my eye. I think already knew what it was before I turned completely and yep, I did so in time to see a Ptarmigan fly in land about 30ft away (see yesterday's post)! I fumbled briefly for my soaked bins but didn’t really need them as it paused for a moment and looked at me. Moments later it pitched up and flew further downhill past me, another bird appearing with it too. It was an awesome moment! This had been the bird I probably wanted to see here most of all and the weather and surroundings added up to an exhilarating birding experience. After that the walk wasn't so bad (!) and I even managed to find a flock of 20-odd Snow buntings a bit further up. It’s simply amazing how birds like these adapt to their conditions and it was a privilege to be a fleeting visitor in their domain.

Abernethy sunrise
Farmstead at Rynettin, Abernethy
Cairn Gorm
The toughest postal route in Britain
Snow buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis) (centre)

As for the rest of the trip, I was pleased to find three Whooper swans in a flooded roadside field south of Aviemore, the same day I found a flock of 20+ Bewick’s swans at dusk on a loch. Loch Garten gave up Goosander as I looked for an early Osprey (with no luck) but another highlight came early on Saturday as I walked by one of the large lochs. Scanning the water I picked out two distant shapes which turned out to be Red-throated Divers. As I watched, the birds began displaying and calling with bewitching groans and wails filling the air. It was really something, the first time I've experienced divers on their breeding grounds. I went back the next morning and they were there again, that haunting sound filling the valley behind me.

On Saturday, my planned walk up into the Lahrig Guhru pass was aborted by the weather, although I managed to get as far as the Chalamain Gap and the knee-busting walk through the boulders that fill it. But after that I decided to stick to low ground and, starting near Tullochogruhe, walked the six mile track out to the Loch Einich through Glen Einach (Gleann Einich). It turned out to be an amazing afternoon and while I could count the birds I saw on one hand, the landscape was breathtaking. The path followed a river winding its way along the edge of Rothiemurcus Forest and into the moorland where it left the trees behind. Here, the land opened out into a vast, wide glen and the path mirrored the river meandering across its floodplain. I expected the loch would eventually slither into view ahead but it never did and it seemed like it was not going to give itself away so easily. I ploughed on and eventually, after two and half hours, reached Loch Einich. It’s a spectacular place. Surrounded on three sides by sheer, grey, snow-capped crags, it sits in a perfect glacial valley that could have been carved by a giant ice cream scoop. The remoteness was striking and the silence so utterly pure, pierced only by whistling wind, water on stone and the sudden alarm call from a pair of dippers. The walk back didn't feel any shorter and I winced through the last mile, but it was undoubtedly an afternoon to cherish and one of the most memorable walks I've ever done. Unfortunately reality was fractured somewhat by hearing the Arsenal result later that evening, with that in mind; a remote mountain was a good place to be.

Feeling pretty tired on Sunday, I decided to visit Insh Marshes RSPB before heading back to Inverness via the Findhorn Valley and hopefully, some Slavonian grebes at Loch Ruthven. It feels like I've already used the word ‘spectacular’ too many times, but needless to say it could easily extend to all these. Findhorn produced Kestrel, Raven, Common Buzzard and best of all, a ringtail Hen Harrier that patrolled the ancient floodplain margins. The RPSB reserve at Loch Ruthven failed to turn up any Slavonian grebes but was a beautiful spot to end the day. The final action of the trip went to a skein of Pink-footed geese flying over, westwards, probably thinking it was time to head home.

Loch Einich
Loch Ruthven
Curlew in the Findhorn Valley
A wilderness
With thanks to Dan, Eleanor, Tony and Cory Jones for the tips!

Monday, 24 March 2014

Footprints in the snow

I got back on the sleeper train from Inverness this morning after a fantastic few days birding and hiking in the Cairngorms. More words to come but for now here's a clue to as to one of the highlights of my trip - can you guess what made them?! Clue: it's not a Coot...

Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Starlings and St Mary's Bay

In the photos below it looks like I've accidentally smudged fingers on my camera lens, but there's no mistake here - this is the brief view I had of a fantastic Starling murmuration over St Mary's marsh on Saturday:

Walking along the track from Swigshole mid-morning, the marshes on either side bristled with the hopeful energy of the season. The early buds of Blackthorn lined the path in places and old sounds, silenced by winter, were once again audible: a Skylark, a Dunnock and, most strikingly, a Lapwing. The bird was displaying over the wet grassland, a tumble in the sky and a low, graceful swoop, but fast like an invisible rollercoaster, and all the time uttering a sound that can't help but amaze.

I stood and watched a fine adult male Marsh Harrier over Decoy for a bit while several more birds appeared in the distance. Beneath it somewhere, hidden in the reeds, a Little Grebe tittered at an unheard joke. Several times I inadvertently flushed a female Sparrowhawk who eventually gave up her stealthy watch from the copse and took off past me, scattering a flock of nearby fieldfares. From the ditch a Cetti's warbler sang, but otherwise there was little that could match the large flocks of rooks for noisy conversation. For a visual spectacle however, there was no doubt...

Glancing over the marsh towards the river, I could see movement on the horizon. At first, a thin wisp appeared like a tentacle from some fantastic creature reaching over the sea wall, but in a second it had leapt skywards to form the remarkable cloud-like shapes above. From a mile away, it was hard to estimate a figure but I would say that 5000 starlings would be a low guess. After several minutes, it was gone, and the birds settled back into the grass, out of sight. I wonder if this restless daylight congregation is a sign of 'foreign' birds feeding up before dispersing back to the continent - another sign of the changing seasons and a hint of the riches, and wonders, to come.

Mute swans (Cygnus olor
Oystercatchers (Haematopus ostralegus) conspicuous on the marshes
High tide at St Mary's Bay
View across St Mary's marsh. The combination of standing water and muddy,
poached tracks of crazing cattle attracted a huge number of starlings and
 Black-headed gulls - Mediterranean gulls cannot be far away now
Looking back on St Mary's Bay, the river and Southend in the distance