Cooling Marshes, Kent, 7th December 2014
Showing posts with label Snow Bunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snow Bunting. Show all posts

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!

Saturday, 16 November 2013

A short walk

I took a short walk today. A lap of Cliffe, then home for the rugby, that was the plan.

The trouble is it was just one of those autumn days you never want to end. It was both crisp and mild, with barely more than jet trails to spoil the blue sky. It sucked me in hopelessly 'til I lost track of time. It was gone dusk when I got back home.

Cliffe was heaving with birds. On Radar I found my first Goldeneyes of the winter, a handful of handsome males with a couple of females. Wigeon, shoveler, teal and grebes were all present in high numbers. Checking the causeways with the recent Glossy Ibis in mind turned up a Greenshank in with the reds. Along the Saxon Shore Way, a Brambling flew over and a male Blackcap caught the morning sun perched among some rosehips. As I was walking along to Flamingo I spotted a couple of swans out on the pool that I'd seen sleeping way back from Radar. Closer in I could see they were awake now and sporting nice 'stiff' necks with yellow around their bills. Finding a better view of the birds, I could see the small extent of yellow did not reach the nostrils which confirmed I had a cracking pair of Bewick's Swans. It was an unexpected treat and a new site tick for me.

Bewick's Swans (Cygnus columbianus), Cliffe Pools, 16/11/13
The shifting shapes of thousands of waders
Coots (Fulica atra): always overlooked, never outnumbered

From being pretty quiet a couple of weeks ago, Flamingo pool was full to the brim this morning. Not only has the current dredging campaign pushed water levels right up, seemingly attracting more wildfowl in the process but it has increased the bank of mud on the far side. I only needed one look at the thousands of Dunlin spiralling and twisting over the pools to see it was high tide on the river. The birds put on a stunning show and I spent quite a bit of time just watching them jostle about on the mud before taking off again. Their restlessness seemed to distract the Bewick's who pitched up and flew off high to the east. Everything was restless it seemed, fleeting appearances from a young Marsh Harrier hardly helped but a Peregrine coursing the skies was the more likely culprit.

I'm not sure why I decided to follow the seawall out to the 'coffins', but I'm glad I did. Some way along, past Lower Hope Point, a single Snow Bunting popped up without calling and landed no more than ten metres from me. It even had the decency to allow me to take some crap photos before darting off.  

Snow Bunting (Plectrophenax nivalis), adult male on rocks at Lower Hope Point, Hoo Pen.
The changing horizon at Cliffe Pools
One of the dredging tugs on the river at Cliffe, not sinking apparently.

I love this stretch of the river but it struck me how quickly its landscape is changing. As I walked another few miles east without seeing another person, the only sound I heard the whole time, aside from the calls of birds, was a distant, endless clanging and whirring from the vast Thames Gateway port on the other side of the river. I ended up missing the Richard's Pipit at Egypt Bay (a great find by Paul Hawkins - here) although I gave it a quick go. A noisy Water Rail, a Bearded Tit and two Green Sandpipers were present but the light was disappearing rapidly as it does these afternoons and I didn't fancy walking those miles back in the dark. So I re-traced my steps along the wall as the light went from orange to pink, ending with a greyness that smudged the marshes and the velvety ooze of the river.

Some way along a small flock of Redwing flew over tseep-ing in the dusk and a bolting Pheasant nearly gave me a heart attack. But a great day out was sealed by a small raptor coming off the sea wall ahead, although only a silhouette, its size suggested a Merlin that was heading back to roost.