The Mandarins of Kent

Much has been said about the damaging impacts of non-native species in the British Isles, and this publicity has been largely negative, from Canada Geese causing eutrophication of lakes with their droppings, to invasions of Japanese Knotweed and Giant Hogweed. The potential ecological risks posed by the now-familiar Ring Necked Parakeet (Psittacula krameri), noisy, shy and gorgeous, is currently However, it is worth approaching any conversation about invasive species with a degree of caution, as many species are now long-established in Britain, including the charismatic and declining Little Owl (Athene noctua), friend of farmers and nemesis of a range of agricultural pests, and the stunningly beautiful Mandarin Duck (Aix galericulata) and do not have any appreciable negative impacts.

Mandarins at Keston Ponds, Greater London. Note the enormous carp in the foreground, which scared the apparently previously oblivious ducks skyward a second later!

 

The Mandarin Duck originates from far Eastern Asia, occurring in Eastern Russia,  Japan, and most notably China. It was relentlessly collected in the latter and exported to ponds all over the World, all the while suffering reductions in its unique habitat, and is now a relatively scarce bird there, although newly discovered wild populations have bolstered its conservation status. Among the birds torn from their natural habit, were small numbers brought to ornamental lakes in Britain. They were first recorded breeding wild in the UK in London in 1946, although breeding populations were probably established much earlier.  They are now found at a small number of sites, largely concentrated in South Eastern England, although a few individuals occur at Mere Sands Wood, a wonderful woodland and wetland reserve somewhere between Preston and Liverpool, and managed by Lancashire Wildlife Trust.  Prior to the discovery of new populations in China, the British population of Mandarins in the 1990s was thought to exceed that in its native range, although in reality it may represent  10-20% of it (LNHS 2002).  This non-native population remains, far from a parochial conservation threat, a global conservation asset. Their UK strongholds are in Greater London, Berkshire and Surrey.

Among the abandoned bread. Bread is not good for birds, and incidentally, Keston Ponds was covered in floating bits of it. Please, if you can refrain from bread-throwing without upsetting yourself or your kids, do so.

Mandarin Ducks have been under-recorded in the UK due to their secretive, tree-nesting habits. Unusually for the typically chauvinistic duck family, males and females share the incubation of the eggs. Perhaps as hole nesters the male’s incredibly bold plumage represents less of a liability in terms of predation risk. The males have distinctive orange feathers on their faces, red bills, and large, orange sail-like plumage on their backs. Electric blue flashes can be seen on their backs and flanks.  While the female is less gaudy, smart in a uniform grey-brown with white underside markings and a white stripe around her big, dark eyes, she may command the prize for cutest-looking female duck, perhaps competing with the scarce, and also introduced, Carolina Wood Duck from the USA.

The rather lovely couple.

I had the good fortune to spend a couple of happy hours hanging around with the charming Mandarin Duck at Keston Ponds, in greater London, near the town of Orpington, where they live alongside the native Tufted Duck and Mallard.  They would take bread thrown to them off the water’s surface but always remained warier than the Mallards or Geese, sticking a few metres from the nearest human, of which, on a sunny day, a green oasis in metropolitan Kent attracts many.  Here they find the small, wood-fringed pools they favour in their native range, and old trees in which to nest.  They suit the place well, it represents their habitat, a similar climate to their native range, and hardly seem out of place, especially as green parakeets from Himalayan India fly squawking overhead.  Mandarin Ducks seem to me a very welcome addition to our fauna, exotic, beautiful, and here to stay.

The Mandarin Duck's habitat at Keston Ponds.

Male Mandarin Duck.

 

Turnstones

Just a very brief blog post to enthuse about Turnstones. You have probably seen them, in the winter, brown, unassuming and very confiding little birds, often happily tucking in to left-over fishing bait on wind and rain soaked piers, which sea anglers are often happy to provide. They can also be found on the beach, turning over stones as the name suggests, hunting for invertebrates and whatever has been washed up by the sea.

Arenaria interpres, seaside ghoul and fisherman's companion.

These angler’s companions tastes are not limited to fishing bait, and are not always so benign, historically they have been recorded feeding on the remains of deceased seafarers who became washed up on beaches. They need to retain cosmopolitan tastes, however, to survive in the harsh environments in which they spend the winter, and resourcefully will dine on almost anything it can find on the strandline, from small crustacea and shellfish to decomposing cetacea.  Birds which winter in Britain can come from as far afield as Greenland and Canada, as well as Scandinavia, and the winter can find them all around the British coast, though summer is short in many of their breeding areas, meaning in reality they can be found for most of the year, birds arriving in August and typically remaining until May. Small numbers of non-breeding individuals, resplendent nevertheless in the plumage that gives Arenaria interpres its international common name, Ruddy Turnstone.

handsome and summery looking Turnstone, Herne Bay, Kent, 6th May 2014

It is not clear whether this little crowd of Turnstone, found on a gorgeous day in May during a trip to the seaside at Herne Bay, in Kent, represents a non-breeding flock, indeed many of the individuals appear to retain juvenile plumage, or just some stragglers getting ready to head back to some remote, sub-arctic or arctic rock for their brief and frantic breeding season.   They balanced unassumingly cute and splendid very convincingly, especially those which had moulted into their summer plumage, and were confiding enough to permit photography. Indeed, they were so charming, they warranted their own blog post.

Turnstone, Herne Bay, May 2014

Turnstone in non-breeding plumage, Herne Bay, May 2014

Birds Before Breakfast at Cranham Marsh

I see no need to blog in chronological order, so in between Holiday Blogs I'm going to post this, about a lovely morning joining a walk organised by my local Essex Wildlife Trust group.

Cranham Marsh is a small patch of land, managed for the benefit of wildlife by Essex Wildlife Trust, bounded by monocultures of oilseed rape and other crop plants, and the small conurbation of Upminster. In spring its ancient woodland, historic reedbeds, scrub and wet meadow rings to the sound of birdsong and the hum of bumblebees. It is a patch I do not blog about nearly enough, and wonderfully local. On the 5^th of May the site hosted its annual “Birds Before Breakfast” walk, led by its inimitable warden, local author and EWT conservation stalwart Tony Gunton, and my Mother and I were up early to attend. We somehow arrived between the two crowds who take the walk, and while the site seemed initially quiet for birds, the view across the wide fields of yellow brassicas toward the Church of All Saints was pleasing in the early morning light.

View of All Saint's Church, Cranham.

We eventually joined a group of about 20 people, curious local people and experienced birders, and walked onto the reserve. A few Swallows pursued insects over the hedge tops, against a blue sky.  My first UK Swifts of the year also wheeled about, and Orange Tip butterflies fluttered amongst the Red Campion flowers.  Common woodland birds, including Dunnock and Blackbird were singing loudly and conspicuously, and the distinct two note song of Chiffchaffs could also be heard, amongst the burgeoning trees.  Little charms of goldfinch fluttered through the hedge tops. Tony led us to a spot where we were able to watch a pair of whitethroats a little warbler and summer visitor from Subsaharan Africa, going back and forth feeding their young. Cranham Marsh seems to host large numbers of these charming little migrants, and their song, sometimes described as scratchy, and rather thinner perhaps than the song of some other warblers, is an evocative sound of the place.  Part of the reserve had been closed off as conservation grazing cattle worked their magic, controlling scrub and helping to restore the historic wet meadows. Mumsy heard a cuckoo, although neither of us could see it, its distinctive call is unmistakeable.  I saw a local cuckoo in Hornchurch country park later that day.

Blackcaps were also in evidence, another charming warbler species, also largely a summer visitor to the site.  Jackdaws periodically made squawking flights from some of the tall, ancient woodland trees which border the meadows, and they were joined by the bright, noisy and exotic Rose Ringed Parakeets which have joined the breeding bird list for the site in recent years.  While distinct in flight, their bright green plumage makes them very well camouflaged in their treetop habitat, as no doubt their ancestors in India were. More conspicuous in the treetops was a handsome Stock Dove, a smart and oft-overlooked pigeon, resembling a well-scrubbed, more minimalist looking woodpigeon, to which it is closely related. This one sat on the bough of an ancient oak, not far from a pair of parrots.

Part of Cranham Marsh LNR

 We were, for a donation, treated to a cooked breakfast of egg sandwiches, and, for the more carnist-inclined, egg and bacon sandwiches, prepared for us by the EWT local group’s volunteers.  People noted that attendance was down a little on previous years, which seemed a shame for what is so clearly a gem of an event, connecting people with the wildlife on their doorstep here on the outskirts of London. If you are in Upminster on the early May Bank Holiday, I heartily recommend birds before breakfast, it is well worth the early start.

Okay this wasn't taken at Cranham Marsh, but the other group's place down the road. Nevertheless, this is what it looked like.

As Mumsy and I were walking homeward, at what must still have only been about 10am, a small bird took off from the bridge, which crosses the stream, perhaps flushed by its approach. There was a flash of blue, and a distinctively shaped bird, with a stocky body and a long, sword-like beak, flew off across the meadow, presumably cutting out the streams meanders. Kingfishers breed locally at an RSPB reserve down near the river, and can even be seen in some urban parks, but this was a new one for me on my local patch, and what a bird, a stunner,  a Kingfisher!  I left with a healthy appreciation, renewed, of a local wildlife asset, and of the efforts of people like Tony Gunton and the other volunteers who do so much to preserve it and maximise its wildlife value.

Birding in Geneva

As April turned into May, the beautiful Bee Girl and I ended up taking in a spot of urban birding, David Lindo style, in one of Europe’s most iconic cities, as part of a week’s holiday which included visiting a friend who lives beside the beautiful Lac d’Annecy, of which more is to come.  Despite admittedly having its fair share of typically alienating urban hustle and bustle, one is immediately struck by Geneva’s greenery, and its abundant open spaces. Its birds of prey tend to leave quite an impression too.

After arriving, on an afternoon Easyjet flight from Southend and checking into our hotel, we made our way on an evening stroll through the streets and into one of the lakeside parks, Parc du Perle du Lac. The parks were huge, immensely clean, and, conspicuously dog mess free.  The sky was wide and blue, and, as we walked among the old, exotic trees, my eye was caught by a soaring shape above the trees.  I ran, almost compulsively toward the bird of prey, but by the time I had reached it, it was gone, slow flapping away parallel to the lake shore and behind overhanging trees. I was standing on a concrete promenade with the verdant park behind me, and the huge, mountain fringed Lac Leman, expansive and calm, in front of me. Across it, on the far bank, the mountains, including the distant Mont Blanc, climbed skyward.  Though the lower slopes were clearly covered in deciduous woodland in full leaf, the peaks were still shrouded in thick snow. To our right, the jet d’eau, Geneva’s famous fountain, pumped the lakes’ water several metres into the sky, and on the far bank we could see the names of French fashion houses and Swiss watch makers in lights above the hotels.  A Red Crested Pochard floated on the lake, alone, not coming too close to the bank.  The first surprise occurred when a group of tourists, armed with loaves of white bread, began to feed it to the Goosanders. Goosanders, a species of “saw bill” duck with fish eating habits and an awkward waddle on land, are fairly scarce (but increasing) in the UK and regarded as specialised fish eaters, but these francophone-Swiss Goosanders  seemed very happy munching soft, damp white bread like Canada Geese.  The second surprise was not far off, when another large bird of prey flew low over the water. This time I did get the binoculars on it, and childish was the glee on my face when I took them down. It was a Black Kite! Now Black Kites are not uncommon across large swathes of Europe,  often co occurring with Red Kites and usually in much greater numbers, but this was my first, and it was a stunner.  I may have attempted to point it out to bemused passers-by, who paid it little attention.

Natalie and I engaged in a little mountain gazing, and enjoyed watching the Goosanders at close quarters as they waddled awkwardly about on the rocks and jetties below us, calling to mind penguins in zoos. Unlike Penguin enclosures in zoos, they waddled alongside nesting Mute Swans and Mallards. We caught the little yellow boat, part of Geneva’s public transport system, to the other side of the lake, to look for somewhere to have dinner in the old town. As we were arriving, the Bee Girl advised me to look up. About fifty Black Kites were making their way, at height, perhaps toward some roosting site in the greenery around the city, from scavenging in the mountains and around the city streets.   It was with a definite sense of joy that we walked past the lakeside cabins, sailing clubs and boat-restaurants, as the bats pursued insects around the bright lights.

The following morning we would be off to France, to Annecy, another beautiful place beside a lake, now 30 miles or so across the border, but first we took a walk up to the UN buildings, walking again through the Parc du Perle du Lac.  We paused for lunch and became familiar with some of the city's house sparrows. House Sparrows are absent from London today, but in Geneva's bustling city centre they remain common. They were confiding, and we happily shared our lunch with one or two of them! For a moment I even had a handsome house sparrow perched on my shoe!  I miss these charming little urban birds at home. They used to be common, and cities are poorer without them. In the Parc du Perle du Lac I saw my first urban Pied Flycatchers,  a pair which were drinking at a stone water fountain, and, as met one of Geneva’s most endearing, if non-native mammals. Someone had dropped some bread off a high concrete embankment onto the moss-crusted rocks below, and a Chipmunk was nibbling on it.  The animal had stripes running the length of its back, and large dark eyes best described as ‘adorable.’ A small population of Siberian Chipmunks, largely escaped pets, has been established in Geneva for some time.   We watched the nervous little creature, running into and out of its nest hole among the rocks below. Eventually a curious Carrion Crow scared it off, and we continued through the botanical gardens. A plan to visit the UN buildings came to naught, so we were able to stroll through the botanical gardens, where the sounds of free-roaming Peacocks could be heard.  A single Serin sang in one of the conifers, and we saw a butterfly we identified as a Queen of Spain, along with several orange tips.  The Black Kites were constant company, soaring overhead.

We left Geneva that afternoon to return a week later, finally making it to the UN headquarters, and also taking the Telepherique (cable car) to the top of the Mont Saleve, just over the border in France and affording wonderful views of the city. On Mont Saleve I caught sight of another new-to-me mammal, the charming, and globally common Red Squirrel, on the floor of the lush woodland.  We also saw several bees and a few unfamiliar orchids we could not identify. Later found a bench, among the trees on the slope, and reflected on how wonderful the city, and our trip had been, while enjoying the view across the city of Geneva, and the expanse of Lac Leman, as the Crag Martins and Swifts, newly arrived migrants, wheeled and circled in front of us.