Wanderings in the Strangest Summer. Frampton Marsh, Lincolnshire, and Coombes Valley, Staffordshire.

 Frampton Marsh, 8th August 2020

On a bright and sunny day, with a fresh breeze blowing, Natty and I headed to Lincolnshire to join my old friend Brian at Frampton Marsh, the RSPB's fantastic, relatively new and expanding, reserve beside the Wash in Lincolnshire.

Spoonbills, and a Moorhen.

Here we were greeted near immediately by a flock of 17 or so Spoonbills, a sight which would have been unheard of just a few years ago, another brilliant white heron-like wetland bird establishing, or perhaps reestablishing itself,  in British wetlands. The birds largely kept their spoons concealed, tucked under wings out of the sun and wind. The flashes were covered in Knot, Dunlins, Black Tailed Godwits, the latter in all plumages from tango orange to ash-grey, as though dressed for the summer.'s funeral.  Among the waders Brian picked out a couple of Curlew Sandpipers, smart, dunlin-like waders with bold supercilliums.

Spotted Redshanks

We continued to enjoy a veritable late summer wader fest, with so many returning migrants from the far North and East, graceful Spotted Redshanks in their near white winter coats, so different in their movements to their commoner cousins, Common and Green Sandpipers, and a very smart Greenshank, his head nearly pure white. The breeding waders remained too, graceful, long-legged Avocets, brown patches on their wings revealing them to be the very same awkward, gangly chicks hiding from the rain among their parents' breast feathers just a few short weeks ago.

Whooper Swan and Common Tern

 

Shelducks floated about in their eclipse plumage, and a single Whooper Swan which had stayed the summer, perhaps too injured to make it across the North Sea though capable of flying back and forth across the reserve, lounged on an island in one of the freshwater lakes. The Spoonbill flock flew over, magnificent face spatulas forward, out towards the Wash.

Spatulas to the horizon!

There was not an overabundance of passerines, as one would expect at this time of year, with so many lying low to moult and enjoy the richness of the season, but yellow wagtails, in their muddy looking winter plumage, were active around the cattle, and a few swifts zipped about. Swallows and Sand Martins were ubiquitous. Emperor Dragonflies patrolled the ponds, and Common Darters the paths, while Small Tortoiseshell butterflies fed at the Scabious blooms. 

Common Blue Damselfly

Frampton is an incredibly special place. You should go there.

Small Tortoiseshell

 

Birds Seen: Brent Goose, Canada Goose, Greylag Goose, Mute Swan, Whooper Sean, Shelduck, Mallard, Teal, Pochard, Tufted Duck, Pheasant, Little Grebe, Great Crested Grebe, Spoonbill, Grey Heron, Little Egret, Cormorant, Moorhen, Coot, Avocet, Lapwing, Golden Plover, Little Ringed Plover, Whimbrel, Black Tailed Godwit, Knot, Ruff, Curlew Sandpiper, Dunlin, Snipe, Common Sandpiper, Green Sandpiper, Redshank, Spotted Redshank, Greenshank, Black Headed Gull, Common Gull, Herring Gull, Lesser Black Backed Gull, Common Tern, Stock Dove, Woodpigeon, Swift, Kestrel, Magpie, Rook, Carrion Crow, Skylark, Sand Martin, Starling, Yellow Wagtail, Pied Wagtail, Meadow Pipit, Linnet, Goldfinch, Reed Bunting.

Black tailed Godwit

Butterflies: Red Admiral, Meadow Brown, Gakekeeper, Small Skipper, Common Blue, Small Heath, Small Tortoiseshell, Green Veined White.

Ruff

Dragons: Common Blue Damselfly, Emperor Dragonfly, Common Darter.

Cinnabar moth caterpillars were numerous at Frampton. 

 




Coombes Valley, 9th August 2020

Of a warm but slightly overcast afternoon I went to Coombes Valley, in Staffordshire. It was surprisingly quiet, with few of the special birds out and about, perhaps down to the advancing season. However it was pretty, though a family insisted upon throwing pebbles into the stream where they Grey Wagtails breed. At least they were not building cairns and diverting the flow of water in the stream. Such disturbance in a habitat so small can have serious implications for its invertebrate diversity. A wasp was busy on the wood of the small bridge.

Wasp. 

I walked the Valley Woodland Loop, as the map called the circular footpath I wandered, and was surprised by the beautiful sight of three Red Deer- young stags- making their way among the trees. Each wore small, but different antlers in velvet. Deer often make their way through the woods at Coombes, but are seldom seen.

Freaky doll stuck to a Silver Birch tree. 

I picked up what my map called the 'Woodcock Trail' and was surprised to find Ling Heather, Calluna vulgaris once again, growing as an understory plant alongside Bilberry, Vaccinium myrtilis, as these species grow in much of their European range, but here associated with open heath and moor. I also enjoyed commanding views of the valley and the wider Stafforshire moorlands.  Someone had stuck a small plastic doll to a tree. 



The day ended with a spectacular orange sunset. 

Birds Seen: Sparrowhawk, Buzzard, Woodpigeon, Kestrel, Magpie, Carrion Crow, Coal Tit, Blue Tit, Swallow, Willow Warbler, Garden Warbler, Goldcrest, Nuthatch, Treecreeper, Blackbird, Song Thrush, Spotted Flycatcher, Robin, Bullfinch. 

Butterflies Seen: Peacock, Gatekeeper, Green Veined White. 

RSPB Leighton Moss 17th February 2013

On a day that was truly beginning to feel like spring I took myself up to my favourite wetland in the whole of North Lancashire, the RSPB’s Leighton Moss, which sits in a valley close to Morecambe Bay, in the shadow of Warton Crag, in the Silverdale AONB.  I took with me the excuse of going to look for literature, I am set to do my dissertation project up on Warton Crag, looking at butterflies in the summer.  Before I reached the car park I wondered if there was a big twitch on, such were the numbers of people lugging their scopes up the road. It turned out the only particular rarity in the sky above Leighton Moss was the sun. It had brought the people out on a sunny Sunday afternoon for sure. Although I had arrived alone this would not be a day of birding with solitude, and the reserve hosted quite a volume of people!  The sound of distant shooting also broke my tranquillity a little bit, although my inner hippy was calmed a little when a volunteer reassured me today’s shoot was for Clay Pigeons.

I paused initially at the Moss Passerine Experience, or feeding station as its more popularly known, and watched the handsome Chaffinches, looking very bright and sharply coloured in the sunshine. There was a Brambling about, a close relative of the chaffinch and relatively scarce winter visitor.  Numbers vary from winter to winter, but they are about every year, apparently displaying very little site fidelity, and they are irruptive.  When in small numbers they tend to follow flocks of chaffinches, and this, a smart female with resplendent orange shoulder flashes, was doing just that. She would appear on one of the bird feeders for a couple of seconds before being off in a blur of black, orange and white. Bramblings always have distinctive bright white rumps, which are usually a dull green in Chaffinches.

Also around the feeders were the obligatory pair of bullfinches, the male with his bright, unmistakeable pink breast, perched openly, even allowing for a couple of blurry photographs in one of the trees. The female is just as pretty but a little more subdued in markings. Bullfinches are shy birds and feeding stations like this present an unusual opportunity to get close to them. A feeder with several ports at which the birds could land on it was squabbled over by chaffinches, but the Brambling appeared able to chase them off, and among the assembled spectators getting photos of unusual combinations of passerines on this feeder  became a pastime.  Goldfinch, Robin and Dunnock were also to be seen on the feeders.

I wandered down to the public hide, in the hope of catching up with an Otter or a Bittern, both of which have been seen there, the former apparently this morning according to a lady with a posh scope.  I saw neither, but there were a couple of smart Greater Black Backed Gulls munching on a tasty looking chunk of Perch they’d managed to get their claws into. A few cormorants shared a shingle island with them, and the telescope (hooray I got my new toy back!) picked out some roosting Lapwing behind them. I moved on to the lower hide, from which one of the Marsh Harriers, an old female, could be seen quartering over the reeds. The coots were chasing each other about, and I scanned the distant flocks of Tufted Duck for Scaup, fruitlessly, although there was a female Pochard in amongst them. A pair of Great Crested Grebes bobbed and nodded elegantly at each other. I’ve only seen the famously romantic weed pass in which Grebes indulge once, and was hoping that this amorous duo might perform for the camera, but watching their elegant bobbing and mirroring display was beauty enough. On my return stroll through the reindeer-lichen and Jew’s ear bedecked trees,  I once again made the acquaintance of the friendly, and particularly gorgeous, cock Pheasant who hangs out up there.  He posed for a couple of photos before weight of human traffic on the little causeway, and an alarming pheasant out on the shooting estate next door, sent him scurrying for the shelter of the enormous reed beds.

Freindly Pheasant

Spring was again in the air as robins could be seen doing the tail cocking and chasing but not with real intent thing, indicating breeding birds sussing each other out for mate potential despite their still strong and fiercely territorial instincts.

Once back at the visitors centre I grabbed a cup of coffee, and chatted to one of the staff about the butterflies of Warton Crag. Bring on the summer, there are Scotch Argus and High Brown Fritillary in addition to the lovely little Northern Brown Argus, which I hope to help a little through the application of science this summer, to be seen! Butterflies over coffee aside, I made my way to the Tim Jackson hide, which lies at the Western end of the main reserve. I noticed a Marsh Tit on a branch as I walked through the woods. To my surprise another perched a few feet from it. The first bird darted down and into a small gap in a moss covered log, and appeared to retrieve something. It’s partner then did the same, until a chaffinch chased it away. The chaffinch was chased off by a Dunnock, which retreated when a Nuthatch arrived. The penny soon dropped that someone had placed some sunflower seeds inside the log, and it was on these that these disparate passerines were feeding. The Marsh tits returned breifly until the prettiest blue tits ever chased them off, feisty little birds that they are.  I watched for a few minutes and, even in the dim light of the woods, managed to rattle off a few photos of the passerines as they came and went, usually pursuing each other as they did so. 

Marsh Tit

The Tim Jackson hide revealed a Little Egret and another quartering Marsh Harrier, and the usual selection of ducks.  The low sun through the window made birding tricky and I decided to use the last hour of fading light to check out the pools on the salt marsh from the Eric Morecambe hide. The car park bears dire warnings of car thieves, but I parked up and wandered on anyway. The sun was setting over the flat expanse of salt marsh down to the edge of Morecambe Bay. Another Egret could be seen standing about beside the reeds, and there were numerous handsome pintail about on the water. A Marsh Harrier scattered them, but as the birds settled back in, there was a pair of Avocets among them. These beautiful black and white waders apparently breed here, beside the expansive bay. As the sun dropped below the horizon, lighting up a red sky streaked with cirrus clouds and air trails, I was struggling to separate waders in the settling gloom, but the little cluster still active consisted of two Redshank, two Spotted Redshank and a Greenshank.

I walked back slowly toward the car, with my scope slung over my shoulder. I became aware of a shape, stock still against the horizon, on top of the ridge. It was a deer. I hadn’t seen one here since my and Natalie’s encounter with one at the Moss some time ago. The animal was picked out against the red sky, and it stood stock still, presumably hoping in stillness lay invisibility. It lifted its head and shook its ears. 

 

Full Species List for 17/02/2013

Mute Swan Cygnus Olor, Whooper Swan Cygnus cygnus, Canada Goose Branta Canadensis, Greylag Goose Anser anser, Mallard Anas Platyrynchos, Teal Anas creccia, Wigeon Anas penelope, Shoveller Anas clypeata, Pintail Anas acuta, Gadwall Anas strepera, Tufted Duck Aythya fuligula, Pochard Aythya ferina, Goldeneye Bucephala clangula, Shelduck Tadorna tadorna, Coot Fulica atra, Moorhen Gallinula chloropus Pheasant Phasianus colchicus, Snipe Gallinago gallinago, Avocet Recurvirostra avocetta, Greenshank Tringa nebularia, Redshank Tringa totanus, Spotted Redshank Tringa erythropus, Black Tailed Godwit Limosa limosa, Curlew Numenius arquata, Lapwing Vanellus vanellus, Little Egret Egretta garzetta, Cormorant Phalacrocorax carbo, Great Black Backed Gull Larus marinus, Black Headed Gull Chroicocephalus ridibundus, Marsh Harrier (Circus aeruginosus) Woodpigeon Columba palumbens, Carrion Crow Corvus corone, Jackdaw corvus monedula, Magpie pica pica Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) Blackbird (Turdus philomelos) Redwing (Turdus illiacus) Robin (Erithacus rubecula) Dunnock (Prunella modularis) Nuthatch Sitta Europea, Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) Coal tit (Paraparus ater) Marsh Tit (Poecile palustris) Great tit (Parus major) Brambling  Fringilla montefringilla, Chaffinch Fringilla coelebs, Bullfinch Pyrrhula pyrrhula, Goldfinch Carduelis carduelis, Greenfinch Carduelis chloris,

Leighton Moss Again!

Having spent the afternoon and evening in the library, perhaps now is a good opportunity to recount my latest trip to the wonderful woodland and wetland reserve at Leighton Moss on Tuesday. It was a lovely afternoon and not to be wasted on writing up notes, so the window in my schedule was put to use, and I headed back up to the Silverdale AONB and onto the reserve. Passerine activity around the feeders seemed a little quiet compared to last time but there were still plenty of great, blue and coal tits around.  I didn’t hang around too much and headed down to Lillian’s hide where I was greeted by a display of Swan behaviour.

Beautiful Whooper Swan.

A small party of seven or so Whooper Swans had arrived, presumably from Iceland, and looked perfectly at home on the lake. They do not usually winter here but I was advised they sometimes pass through. They were all beautiful, white adults with strong yellow markings on their bills, their smoothly sloping foreheads and straight necks setting them apart from the mute swans even from a distance. However, the resident pair of Mute Swans, the familiar orange-beaked swan of your local park lake, did not seem to be in thrall to the Nordic beauties, instead, they looked distinctly displeased. At first they kept their distance, but raised their wings and drew in their necks, in a threat posture, one that looked almost exaggerated. The aggression was palpable, but initially they seemed to be keeping their distance. They were heavily outnumbered, although individually distinctly larger than the ‘interlopers.’ The Whoopers, for their part, were largely unperturbed, ignoring the angry locals, but sticking close together. One of the mute swans drew closer, and the Whoopers edged slowly away. They may have only arrived that morning after the 18 hour, near transatlantic flight, and had every interest in conserving their energy, with an onward journey, perhaps to Martin Mere, but maybe considerably further afield, still ahead of them.  The mute swans herded the Whoopers into a corner, but one bird seemed determined not to be so restricted, and swam out past the Mute swans, separate from its party. The mute swan which seemed to be displaying the most aggression swam forward towards it, with his head down and his wings raised. The Whooper swam away slowly, nervously, but evidently it was not enough for the Mute swan, who proceeded to raise his wings and run across the water, flapping, toward the whooper, beak poised to grab at the back of the other bird. The Whooper took to the air and flew back to join its co specifics.

Aggressive mute swan.

Having  watched this display of behaviour I decided to persevere to the Greisdale hide, which had been off-limits due to rain on my previous visit. The view from here was gorgeous, with the autumn light shining off the glass-calm water, the leaves in the woodland opposite beginning to assume orange and brown shades, while other species remained green. A heron posed on a narrow spit of land while Teal and Widgeon rested peacefully among the reeds and sedges. The Widgeon seemed to be newly arrived seasonal visitors to me, as none were present last time. Mostly they seemed to be russet brown females and males still bearing some of their eclipse feathers.  There were a few Gadwall too, the females resembling smarter mallards, the males more monochrome ones. I sat for a while. Nothing happened except the place looked beautiful.

The view from the Tim Jackson hide.

I could have enjoyed this scene for some time but instead I headed around to the Tim Jackson hide, in the hope of perhaps seeing some more stuff. Deer were bellowing in the surrounding hills, and myself and the other people in the hide couldn’t help hoping that we might see, even photograph, one of the stags.  A Sparrowhawk flew through and put up some of the smaller birds, which had barely returned when a gorgeous female Marsh Harrier passed by and sent them all skyward again.   A small group of swans flew in, and these, it turned out, were the whoopers again. They sat in the water in front of us, someone in the hide describing these beautiful and fairly uncommon passage migrants as the “bird of the day.” They didn’t stay long, the marauding Mute Swans following them, and eventually persuading them skyward and they flew out toward Morecambe Bay.

Handsome Grey Heron at Leighton Moss.

The light was beginning to fade and I was wondering about getting back toward home before I’d have to drive in the dark. I decided to give these deer a couple more minutes, as the bellowing continued and sounded, although I have little experience, like it was coming closer. I had been sitting there a while, talking about swans and deer with the other stragglers still in the hide, enjoying the gentle chatter of birdy people and the distant bellows, watching one of the keepers in the wooded estate opposite feeding the pheasants, and sitting around, when a few of the birds to my right took to the air. They quickly settled as they reached the far bank; when put to flight by an avian predator, ducks usually stay airborne until the predator is out of sight, but these ones did not stay up long. Whatever had scared them was clearly terrestrial. I looked out in the direction from which the panicked ducks, the bulk of them teal, until recently sleeping soundly, and was rewarded with my first glimpse of a wild, English otter in fresh water!   It wasn’t as big as the beast I saw off the coast of Skye a couple of years ago, so I can only assume it was a juvenile, but it was a sleek, dark, wet creature, long and low to the ground. It seemed to be aware of the commotion it caused in the hide, probably on account of the noises we made, and plunged into the water and away before I could get a photo,  but what a beautiful beast! And what a first!

Scruffy, moulting Teal at Leighton Moss.

I waited a little while for the deer. I managed to confirm how close they were when I realised some of the reeds I could see were not reeds, but the points of the antlers of one of the noisy stags, and several of us waited, with bated breath, it seemed, for the beast to appear and pose for a photo. Inevitably he never did, but by the antlers, which must have had ten points, and rose up above the Phragmites which stood as tall as a man, he was huge.  I contented myself with enjoying the strange noises he was making, watching the birds making their way toward roosting sites against the backdrop of the autumnal woods. Cormorants gathered in a tree in front of me, and a couple of little egrets and a lapwing were among those flying through the sunset. 



It is that time of year, the time the season is changing. I saw no hirundines at Leighton Moss but I did see a small crowd of swallows flying over Freeman’s Pools in Lancaster on Saturday, even as the place was beginning to fill with Teal and other wintering ducks. The previous day I’d watched my first pair of fieldfares of the season, flying, making their “tseeptseep” contact calls as they flew overhead.  With the Whooper Swans at Leighton Moss, it is the time of year when birds are on the move and anything can still turn up anywhere.