Southend meets the Mediterranean.

 Southend Pier stretches over a mile out into the Thames Estuary, from the newly designated City of Southend, on Essex’ Estuary coast.  It was built in the 19^th Century to load and unload deep hulled sailing vessels, regardless of the state of the tide. Today it lives on, and is proudly proclaimed the longest pleasure pier in the world. For those from out of area, the River Thames here is several miles broad, the North coast of Kent sometimes lost in the haze on a misty day, the water is saline, the fish which swim beneath are marine, and the tidal range is substantial, leaving vast mudflats when the tide is low.  On a sunny day, it is a pleasant, if not a short stroll, out along the historic wooden boards, until you can really feel surrounded by water, a long way from the noise and bustle of Southend’s Sea Front, where dizzying theme parks and noisy arcades dominate. It is a place, in winter at least, of unexpected tranquility, and also, unexpected wildlife.

Mediterranean Gull, Southend Pier, January 2023

On the day of our visit frost, and caution had closed the historic boards when we arrived, so we embarked on the new, green, battery-powered train that has replaced the classic blue diesels, which are now reduced to waiting rooms and curiosities at the two pier stations.

Mediterranean Gull on Southend Pier. 

Upon exiting the pier train, we were met by one of our avian stars, an adult Mediterranean Gull (Ichthyaetus melanocephalus) which perched on one of the pastel painted beach huts, no doubt a coffee kiosk in high season. The Mediterranean Gull is uniquely beautiful among British gulls, and, always, in recent years, the most numerous Gull at the end of the Pier. As an adult, it creates the impression of a near all-white bird, its upper wings only lightly shaded in silver-grey.  In winter a black ‘smear’ creeps back from behind its eye, in contrast with the distinct dark ‘spot’ of winter plumage Black Headed Gulls (Chroicocephlus ridibundus), probably the nearest confusion species.  This commoner species was out here too, though in smaller numbers, a little smaller than the Med Gulls, with darker red to the legs and bill

Mediterranean Gull, Southend Pier.

As its name suggests the Mediterranean Gull is something of a newcomer to these shores, having  for most of its known history been confined to a few small colonies around the Eastern Mediterranean, the Black Sea and Turkey. Here they bred in relatively small numbers under the baking summer sun.  The Med Gull was never the characteristic Gull of the Mediterranean region- that honour goes to the Yellow-Legged Gull, essentially, visually at least, a Herring Gull with yellow legs, or a Lesser Black Back with a paler back. Mediterranean Gulls are not your regular holiday seagull- though I did once see a pair drift over a Spanish beach.   Tied to the coast, in winter they seem to wander the Mediterranean outside of their breeding season.  In the latter decades of the 20^th Century, something changed for the Mediterranean Gull, and the species began to establish small colonies in the South of France and in Spain, and later on the coasts of Belgium, Germany and the Netherlands, on the North Sea coast of Europe.  Now it breeds fairly abundantly in Southern England, along both the channel and the North Sea coasts, the odd pair pitching up at big Black Headed Gull Colonies such as at Two Tree Island, or forming colonies of their own on the shingle of Rye Harbour in Kent.  A spectacularly beautiful Gull in any season, in summer they become even more impressive, sporting jet black heads, with white eye rings, contrasting strongly with the brown hood of the Black Headed Gull, as reflected in its name in several European languages, for example, the Dutch Zwartkopmeeuw, causing consternation for international birders who neglect their scientific names.  Their white wings are all the more vivid in the summer sunshine.

Here on Southend Pier in the vague January haze, their wings still look bright, lacking black tips or contrasting leading edges that most common comparable species possess. But as someone passes, dropping a few chips, the angelic looking Med Gulls reveal themselves every bit as opportunistic and adaptive as their more familiar cousins, and they dive from their pastel beach-hut perches onto the dropped bounty, noisily squabbling among themselves for our wasted food.

Turnstone, Southend Pier

Another bird likes to hang out on the Pier’s end, another confiding opportunist, not afraid to pick up some of our scraps, and this one is adorable. Little bigger than a Starling, Turnstones, or Ruddy Turnstones (Arenaria interpes) as they are internationally known, are world-travellers, some of them crossing the Atlantic to reach our shores from Greenland and Northern Canada. There seems forever to be a population of these impossibly charismatic, charming little shorebirds on the move, and despite not occurring in the British Isles as a Breeding species, they seem to be here almost all year, absent only in May and June.  They can often be found on pebbly shores, turning stones, sometimes, in an unlikely display of strength, quite large stones, to hunt for the invertebrates underneath. They are unfussy about tucking into any sea-washed carcass that may turn up too. But on Southend Pier, running about among the feet of the visitors, and the colourful mini-golf course, they have learned to make a reasonable living from what we leave behind. Leftover fishing bait, chunks of Lugworm or Ragworm, probably extracted locally, seem to be a favourite, but a bit of sandwich won’t go amiss either. Hundreds of them roost on a small, wave-lapped slipway, and can reliably be seen there at high tide.  I suspect these smart little migrants tend to be unnoticed by most of the pier’s visitors,  but I find them extraordinarily photogenic. I have blogged about them before.  Have a browse. It’s there somewhere.

Turnstone, Southend Pier

Birds are not the only wildlife causing a stir at the end of the Pier. Mammals too, are in evidence. A pair of young Grey Seals raise their heads above the surface, and gaze up with appealing watery eyes. Recently afforded full legal protection, these popular piscivores are often encountered in estuaries, and despite the risk of ship collision, both our wild species of seal seem to be thriving, with Common Seals sometimes hauled out and sunning themselves on mudflats right in to Dartford and Rainham, the other side of London’s Dartford Crossing.  Grey Seals seem less abundant locally, but they are capable of travelling substantial distances.  These playful youngsters chased each other about, and eyed with curiosity the humans taking in the winter sun and sea air. I wondered if they occasionally take advantage of the growing popularity of catch-and-release among sea anglers, and how many small fish had been compassionately and carefully released into the green water, still bewildered and gasping, to immediately encounter the toothy and powerful maw of a Grey Seal.

Grey Seals, Southend Pier, January 2022. Photo by Emma Bickford. 

We walked back along the pier, toward the coast, and the noise, leaving these three wildlife stars behind us, as skeins of Brent Geese, another Essex icon, made their way across the cold blue sky.

Southend Pier

Lockdown Walks, a Retrospective.

 6th May 2020

I took a brief afternoon stroll in Stoney Wood, the little local greenspace in a disused quarry I have visited many times, for an informal bird and butterfly survey. Here I witnessed predation, nature, in all its shocking glory. 

The prey, fast, agile, and undeniably beautifully marked, was flying at treetop height, and clearly very aware of the danger it was in, jinked and turned aerobatically, in a desperate attempt to escape the snapping mandibles. The predator, faster, but not as agile, hung briefly in mid air, before locking on again with its sharp vision, darted and snapped again, and missed again. They prey had almost reached cover, but changed direction, and this loss of speed afforded the predator another chance, and this time, with an audible snap, the sharp bill found its mark. The Spotted Flycatcher returned to its perch in the scrub with the Peacock Butterfly flapping desperately in its tight grip. The bird struck the insect against a branch several times, until the manic struggling ceased. Then it shook its head violently, and the four jewelled wings of the butterfly fluttered to the ground like falling leaves, and the bird devoured the body, a small, sad morsel but of course a substantial meal to the tiny bird. 

Peacock Butterfly. Not the one in this story but one in Cambridgeshire in August.

This horror aside, the weather was still glorious and there were plenty of butterflies on the wing, including several Dingy Skipper, and Robins, Whitethroats and Willow Warblers, insect killers all, sang melodiously to the summer sky. 

Birds Seen: Black Headed Gull, Stock Dove, Woodpigeon, Swift, Jackdaw, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Willow Warbler, Chiffchaff, Whitethroat, Blackbird, Spotted Flycatcher*, Dunnock, Goldfinch. 

Butterflies: Orange Tip, Peacock (alive and dead) Green Veined White, Dingy Skipper. 

Orange Tip Butterfly near Kirk Ireton.

8th May 2020

 Wirksworth to Carsington via Kirk Ireton

I strolled along footpaths from Summer Lane, where the housing on the Southern fringe of Wirksworth gives way to farmland. I crossed the open fields and climbed up to half moon lane, which was quiet and offered beautiful views over the Ecclesbourne Valley. The roadside vegetation was well grown and butterfly infested. A Sparrowhawk soared as racing pigeons took their daily exercise from someone's loft. Swallows and Martins wheeled above a farmyard. I arrived in Kirk Ireton, and was surprised to find the human population out and about, celebrating VE day in the streets, a dose of normality, but still a surprise. 

After a couple of wrong turns, I think I had been aiming for the Trig Point called The Mountain, I found myself unexpectedly stood beside Carsington Water, not far from the Millfields car park. A beautiful Garden Warbler sang on the Hawthorn, and the Black Headed Gull colony was typically noisy. A few Lapwings and a single Redshank waded in the shallows. A pair of feral Barnacle Geese were on the gull colony island and one appeared to be incubating.  Long Tailed Tits foraged in the shrubs, gathing beakfulls of insects for their waiting chicks.

Long Tailed Tit at Carsington Water. 

I returned via Kirk Ireton once again, through sunny fields full of butterflies and horses, and filled my empty water bottle with takeaway beers from the pub there. I sat in a field on the way back and raised a glass to the men and women of 1945.

Garden Warbler at Carsington Water

Returning in near darkness I saw hares close to where the footpath crosses the Alderwasley Hall School site. The vegetation here was a sad sight, the farmer appeared to have sprayed herbicide on nearly everything, and wildflowers and nettles alike drooped forlornly. I crossed the Ecclesbourne Brook and returned to Wirksworth through Miller's Green. A pond, signposted as a fishery, beside the road reminded me how I was still discovering this town, I had not known it existed. 

Birds Seen: Canada Goose, Barnacle Goose, Greylag Goose, Gadwall, Mallard, Tufted Duck, Pheasant, Great Crested Grebe, Sparrowhawk, Moorhen, Coot, Lapwing, Redshank, Black-Headed Gull, Lesser Black Backed Gull, Swift, Stock Dove, Woodpigeon, Collared Dove, Magpie, Jackdaw, Carrion Crow, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Swallow, House Martin, Long Tailed Tit, Chiffchaff, Blackcap, Garden Warbler, Whitethroat, Blackbird, Mistle Thrush, Robin, Pied Wagtail, Chaffinch, Greenfinch, Goldfinch. 

Butterflies seen: Green Veined White, Orange Tip, Speckled Wood, Red Admiral, Small Tortoiseshell, Peacock. 

Mammals Seen: Rabbit, Brown Hare. 

Pennington Flash

Here is a blog post I wrote about a week ago following a trip to Pennington Country Park between Wigan and Manchester.

About a fortnight ago I had the privilege of spending an afternoon birding at Pennington Flash Country Park near Leigh, Greater Manchester, during a foray up North to see my dear friend Tom, getting out birding for the first time in a few days.  The site, which sits on the fringe of the great conurbation, between the City of Manchester and Wigan, was created in part by mining subsidence, where collapses enabled the formation of several large pools. An expansive lake, used by boaters, birders and the inevitable duck feeders armed with bags of bread, greeted us when we arrived. A scan of the water revealed distant goosander and Tufty among the Mallards, which was promising, but it was the nature reserve which adjoins it that we were interested in. A number of hides overlook a range of smaller pools, all home to interesting waterfowl.

Shoveller and Goosander at Pennington Flash.

Confident Reed Bunting, close to the appropriately named Bunting Hide. 

The first hide we visited revealed Shoveller engaged in their rather fascinating and rather mesmerising courtship dances, the male and female swimming in close circles, matching each others’ speed while often beak to beak, forming pair bonds that would presumably travel North with them onto their summer breeding grounds.  There were also several Goosander,  which typically winter on inland waters, especially in the North, where they seem to be growing more common.  They are among Britain’s prettiest ducks, the green-headed males sporting bright white flanks, while the females crests are endearingly punky.

Blue tit from Bunting Hide. 

Stock Doves from Bunting Hide.

The highlight of the visit had to be the experience of sitting in what is called the bunting hide, just watching so many birds around the feeders. Mottled and wintery Reed Buntings, smart hen Chaffinches, gaudy male Chaffinches, and fascinatingly pink Bullfinches landed on the tables. A grey squirrel, apparently blind in one eye but seemingly none the worse for its disability, enjoyed the seeds it could pull from behind the bars.  Little, noisy parties of Long Tailed Tits came and went from the hanging peanut feeders, accompanied by Blue Tits and a Coal Tit with an unusually long beak, perhaps regrown following some injury.  A pair of handsome stock doves, in beautiful slate grey plumage with their deep metallic green neck flashes, not dissimilar to woodpigeons but so much (even) more beautiful sat eyeing each other in the trees at the back of the clearing. The clearing was dotted with bird tables and feeders, bringing all the passerines so close. The scarcest bird in this little clearing was a beautiful female Brambling, a winter visitor from Scandinavia and other more boreal climes. It resembles a Chaffinch, with pale orange on the breast and mottled black and brown on the back and crown, with similar wing markings to its cogener, but suffused with orange, and a bright white rump. It fed on one of the bird tables, sadly the one furthest from us but still close enough for a photo for the records.

Partially blind squirrel

After we had sat in the hide a few moments, the birds scattered, and a Sparrowhawk flew through the clearing at speed. The mallards and moorhens which did not flee suddenly paddled or swam into the vegetation, apparently still nervous. The bird of prey disappeared, maneuvering between the trees, and we could not tell whether it had caught anything, but it took the passerines a long time to return, with the feisty blue tits appearing first, and the shy bullfinches taking their time to return to the clearing.

Brambling

This grey day was just the night after the latest round of storms which had affected the country, and especially the North West, and a few trees were down, including one close to bunting hide. Crack willows by the main lake had been snapped, their jagged edges reaching skyward, and elsewhere smaller Birches lay uprooted across the paths. The clouds were coming over in waves, and the wind was light but chilling, a shadow of the destructive force which had brought trees down on top of cars in the town centre just the night before. Despite the sporadic greyness and showers we wandered through the diverse habitats around the pools, adding a pair of kingfisher to our day list, the two bright little birds pursuing each other at speed, zigzagging close to the water surface. We saw a very windswept moorhen picking its way among the patches of gravel which formed islands in the pools, its breast feathers caught in the breeze.

Windswept moorhen

We saw a handsome Goldeneye out on the water of the main lake, and plenty of little grebes and scruffy, first winter grey herons.  Herons seem to have a roost in a cluster of trees beside one of the scrapes, to which the huge, broad winged birds were returning as we watched.   As the sun began to set, the sky cleared and we spent a few moments trying,  fruitlessly, to pick out a Mediterranean gull reported on the sightings board among the confiding, black headed gulls which had gathered amongst the motley collection of wild and feral mallards.

Motley mallards. 

Pennington Flash sits among major conurbations and is well used and much valued by a range of people. As a country park it represents a popular local day out. Despite the breeze we saw a range of dog walkers and other members of the public wandering around the site, but nevertheless it held a range of remarkable wildlife habitats and a surprising array of wildlife, and has become, in  my mind, something of a gem in the Greater Manchester area, and I look forward to seeing it again!

Sunset Gulls.

RSPB Hodbarrow, or The Start of the Northern Summer

I want to blog about the buzzards, I really want to, but nothing but incoherent rage can come out of my mouth on the subject at the moment. Indeed, I cannot talk about it without incitement so I’m not going to. Instead I am going to tell you about all the trips I managed to squeeze in, between the GIS coursework, in  the last few days, the days summer arrived in Lancashire! Instead of raging against English (anti) Nature, and the game industry to whom they are in thrall, I am going to tell you all what a nice week I have had.  There will be more to come, think of this as “part one.”

Sunday took Natty and I to the RSPB and National Nature Reserve at Hodbarrow, on the West coast of Cumbria, near Millom, where apparently there is an ex RAF airfield and possibly a prison. It is also home to a large coastal lagoon where a colony of very special, on a UK level at least, Terns live. No sooner had we left the car park, and overcome the disappointment that for some reason dogs were permitted on the reserve, we were surrounded by the sound of birdsong. We could hear the scratchy melodies of Whitethroat, the full-on techno beats of Sedge Warbler, the tumbling melodies of willow warbler, and the repetitious, two-note song of Chiffchaff, the melody with flourish at the end of Chaffinch. A pair of blackcaps hopped about in an oak tree. The paths were lined with yellow flowering Gorse.  There were a few white butterflies about.

Rounding a corner, passing a pond attended by the obligatory pair of Mute Swans and large numbers of Swallows and Sand Martins, Natalie, ever the sharp-eyed entomologist, found me the season’s first Damselfly, sunning itself on a blade of grass. By the season and the red colour, it was probably a Pyrrhosoma nymphula, A large Red Damselfly. A couple of fresher damselflies were about, still to develop their adult markings.  The trees had only just entered full leaf, and one or two were still sparse. To see the first Damselfly of the year was a relief. The snow in Bowland and down into the Peaks at Easter is still a recent memory, as was Roeburndale in late April, sliding about in the pouring rain, and noticing the bluebells were still underground. We walked on and found a small cove. A few crab skins lay about on the beach. Out on the water we could see some Red Breasted Merganser, and a few Eider and Shelduck. Redshank and crows foraged in the mud. We were out of Morecambe Bay by now, having driven through the South Western corner of the Lake District National Park. Across the river Duddon the fells of South Lakeland stood out above the estuary mud.

We were crossing a small headland when we saw a bird of prey being mobbed, fairly relentlessly, by gulls. It drew toward us over the estuary. There is nothing unusual about seeing a buzzard or some such crossing a small strip of water, or getting mobbed by gulls, but raising my binoculars, this was no buzzard. Its long wings arched slightly like a gulls’, and its body was white, a dark stripe running through its eye. This was an Osprey! We couldn’t see a tag or a ring, and shortly the gulls had seen it off, back over the Duddon Estuary. To my mind this seemed too late to be a passage migrant, the internet reports the Rutland Water Ospreys already have chicks, it may have been one of the adults now nesting in the Lake District.

We had lunch on the beach and dipped our toes in the still freezing water. A few Sandwich and Common Terns flew by, some diving for fish, and some skimming the water surface. Hodbarrow is one of the few places little terns can be seen in the UK. They breed on islands left behind by abandoned Iron workings on the site. The industrial history of the Hodbarrow reserve is rich, and plain to see, the muddy soil stained red by haematite, old quarries scarring the landscape and the odd fragment of a concrete structure protruding among the rushes. We walked the sea wall to the hide were we were entertained by the pretty Little Terns, sweet looking little birds with black caps, yellow bills and short forked tails. They were feisty, defending their nest site against anything, mobbing even larger terns as they passed by. They had arrived only a few days ago, but now there seemed to be as many as forty of them, nest scrapes already established on the bare bars of stone in the lagoon, presumably stacks of spoil from some quarrying operation. Despite their aggression little terns are infamously vulnerable to predators. Here, electric fences, and broken fences, were all over the islands, presumably from attemptos to protect these nationally rare (but globally distributed) birds.  I have seen Little Tern before, but only when I was volunteering in Gialova in Greece, in a place which bore odd similarities to Hodbarrow.  A few Eider swam in the still water, one of the males very vocal, tipping his head back and making the classic Eider call, perhaps best described as an impression of Kenneth Williams. The smart sea ducks dabbled about for a while. Great crested grebes swam around, paired up, no longer dancing as the summer is now in full swing, but not yet with the little chicks on their backs, as will I have no doubt charm us in the months to come.

We ended the day with a spot of sea watching, in the distance, Gannets and Kittywakes could be seen diving for fish in the open water among flocks of terns and black headed gulls. Gulls and Eider, and a few Red Breasted Merganser bobbed on the surface. The falling temperature and building wind coming in off the sea reminded us of our latitude, but among the birds, the swifts and swallows flying all around us on the walk back to the car park, we could be in no doubt that the summer had begun.

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,