It is curious how after the first Swallows and Martins appear, they appear to be everywhere. My first swallow of 2012 was at at Wat Tyler on the 17th, the first House Martin at Chafford on the 12th. With several at Purfleet the other day, they seem to be everywhere, I even saw one over Upminster during my driving lesson today and had to apologise to my instructor for being unable to point to it on account of the need to keep my eyes on the road.
One place where there were no hirundines however seemed to be Chafford on Thursday. On a grey morning I woke up unexpectedly early so headed down to get in an hours birding before the work party started. In Warren Gorge I was impressed by a little charm of goldfinches near the back entrance, busily feeding on catkins. It was a surprise to see these adult birds still in their charm like this, I wonder when they will pair off and begin nesting? Great tits were about carrying bits of moss and feathers to line their nests, and chiffchaffs were joined by the distinctive scratchy notes of Whitethroats. I eventually got a good look at a pair of whitethroats in a bush near the visitors centre, into which the female disappeared apparantly also carrying nesting material.
What caught my eye above the lake were not hirundines, but swifts. They look almost black against the sky, where they spend virtually all their adult lives. One by one they came in low over the water, each on a black arc of wing, curved backward like a bow, their body making the arrow. They are such streamlined aeronauts, naturally engineered for a life on the wing. Despite their agility their wing movements were imperceptible, flapping only when an insect necessitated a rapid climb. These birds are ususally late migrants, the last into the country for their breif breeding season, and the first out. They can range for several miles every day and after breeding I suppose there is little about in our dampening islands for them.
After lunch and a wall painted in the visitors centre, I cycled over to Lion Gorge, part of the reserve set in another chalk pit a short distance away. In the water, which is managed by an angling club, crystal clear and has lilly pads in, were several coots swimming, and a heron, wading in water so deep he looked like he was swimming like a duck, with a beak flushed pink and yellow, looking his smartest for the season. I walked down to the weir where I'd often seen grey wagtails before but there were none about. The wind rustled the trees angrily.
Walking on a little, between the tree lined embankment and the water, I heard some distinctive chirping in the trees and saw the recognisable shape of a long tailed tit in the understory. There in front of it was a most adorable sight, three tiny fledgelings, little balls of fluff with tails, and incredibly early, all clustered close together against the threatening elements. I walked away to give them some space. By the time I returned, I'd got my camera out, the acquisitive photographic instinct having got the better of me, but unfortunately the fledgelings had dispersed. I hope minimising my impact was worth missing what could have been a superb photograph.
It wasn't long after looking for the long tailed tits that I saw something which rather surprised me. It was a rounded bird, brown above and off-white below, and almost featureless, apart from a splash of grey around the neck area and what looked like brown stains where its wings met its breast. I'll admit I had to consult the Collin's Guide on this one, and I narrowed it down to a Garden Warbler. Garden Warblers are not common around here, they resemble fat, capless blackcaps, sing very well, and probably pass through Chafford Gorges on passage. Shortly after the Garden Warbler encounter I met a couple of its co-generics, Blackcaps, in a buddleia. Satisfied, I headed back to the Centre with a bird list.
Another hour in Warren Gorge as the day wore on, and this time I walked to Heron point, at the end of a dead-end path, to see what I could see. I added a handsome Great Crested Grebe, and, happily, a smart little Grey Wagtail, grey and yellow, to my list. The coots here had young already, scruffy little black chicks with red heads, already active on the water and being fed by their parents.
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