Lockdown Walks, A retrospective. 25th April-

Wirksworth - Carsington Trig Point - Middleton - Stoney Wood. 25th April 2020

Today I walked out of Wirksworth along the green part of Summer Lane, through its ancient leafyness and then down through the blooming fields of dandelions. I joined the road to Callow and accessed the Trig point near Carsington. It boasts a good view of the surrounding countryside and Carsington Water itself. The water was clear and calm, and looked cool beneath the blazing summer sky.

A field of Dandelions close to Carsington Water. 

I made my way down to the end of the reservoir, where Reed Warblers sang in the small reed bed, their curious, rhythmic song, perching openly high in the reeds. A long-staying pair of Goldeneye, a beautiful, black, white and bottle green duck, a wintering species in these parts, a tree nester of forest fringed Northern lakes in summer, was a welcome sighting, and in the distance I caught sight of the wintering Great Northern Diver, something of a 'star' species at Carsington with up to three individuals wintering on site pretty much annually. The size of a Goose, thick-set, if a Great Crested Grebe is Bruce Banner the Great Northern Diver is the Incredible Hulk, this bird spends much of its time underwater, hunting fish with a bill like a broadsword, so seeing it at rest on the surface was unusual. 

A Garden Warbler sang in the increasingly verdant trees which fringe the lake. The leaves had really begun to burst, obscuring the water at many points.

Handsome sheep near Middleton Top.

On my return journey I encountered another stunning male Redstart, near Middle Peak Quarry, a species I had not expected to find so abundant within a walk of my home, and a pair of Red Legged Partridges, an introduced game species were visible by the path through the quarry, and represented something of a local 'tick.'

Record shot of Red Legged Partridge in Middle Peak Quarry. 

 

Birds Seen: Canada Goose, Greylag, Gadwall, Mallard, Tufted Duck, Goldeneye, Red Legged Partridge, Pheasant, Great Northern Diver, Great Crested Grebe, Buzzard, Coot, Oystercatcher, Lapwing, Black Headed Gull, Lesser Black Backed Gull, Stock Dove, Woodpigeon, Magpie, Jackdaw, Carrion Crow, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Swallow, Willow Warbler, Chiffchaff, Reed Warbler*, Garden Warbler*, Wren, Blackbird, Song Thrush, Mistle Thrush, Robin, Redstart, House Sparrow, Pied Wagtail, Bullfinch, Linnet, Chaffinch. 

Butterflies seen: Orange Tip, Brimstone, Peacock, Small Tortoiseshell, Green Veined White, Small White

Wirksworth-High Peak Trail. 26th April. 

On the last day of the sunshine, I took a stroll from Wirksworth up towards the High Peak Trail, aiming for Ramshaw Rocks. I did not get there, but we passed through damp tunnels and encountered a couple more showy male Redstarts in the fields near Middle Peak Quarry, and a Skylark sang near the turning for Carsington. 

Birds Seen: Pheasant, Stock Dove, Woodpigeon, Jackdaw, Carrion Crow, Raven, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Skylark, Swallow, Long Tailed Tit, Willow Warbler, Chiffchaff, Blackcap, Whitethroat, Wren, Robin, Redstart, Dunnock, Chaffinch, Linnet, Goldfinch. 

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

Wirksworth-Carsington Water-Middleton Top

Natty and I walked, in very changeable weather, across the fields from Summer Lane, to the Trig Point I'd visited a couple of days before, which we now knew was called Hasker Farm, when a dark grey weather front rolled in from the North, the Heavens opening and hastening our descent to Carsington Water.
Here, after the short, sharp shower, we found Reed Buntings singing in the Hopton Reed Beds. There were hundreds of hirundines over the water, and a couple of Swifts, once supposedly called storm swallows for their habit of appearing in front of heavy rain, were among them, our first of the year.  and Moorhen chicks were being fed. We returned via Middleton Top, across fields of cattle, where small Bullocks briefly surrounded us, though we bravely walked on, and upon reaching an invisible line, the Bullocks gave up following.

Countryside with a view of Carsington Water. 

There was a bright sunburst over Middlepeak Quarry, and we enjoyed the sight of a rainbow over Wirksworth. 
Highlight of the day occurred when, drawn by the anxious chatter and alarm calls of Blackbirds and Blue Tits, we discovered Tawny Owl, perched openly in a tree in a tiny roadside copse on the outskirts of town, mobbed frantically by small passerines. In a remarkable encounter, this shy nocturnal predator, so seldom encountered in the daylight, looked us directly in the eye as we stood on a public road.

Tawny Owl. 

Birds Seen: Canada Goose, Greylag Goose, Mute Swan, Mallard, Tufted Duck, Pheasant, Great Crested Grebe, Moorhen, Coot, Oystercatcher, Black Headed Gull, Woodpigeon, Tawny Owl, Swift*, Magpie, Jackdaw, Carrion Crow, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Skylark, Swallow, Chiffchaff, Reed Warbler, Blackcap, Whitethroat, Wren, Blackbird,Song Thrush, Mistle Thrush, Robin, Dunnock, Chaffinch, Linnet, Goldfinch. 

Stonechats

One of the signs of Autumn down at my local RSPB reserve is the arrival of the Stonechats. Related to the Robins and Redstarts, these charming little denizens of the open countryside descend on the marshes fringing the Thames estuary from their breeding habitats on higher ground, perhaps on the continent or in upland western Britain.  Their harsh calls, reminiscent of two flints being struck together may give them their name, although the generic  Saxicola comes from a latin root meaning “stone dweller”, perhaps referring to the often rocky moorland and heathland habitats on which they breed. They are also among the only insectivorous birds to spend the winter in Great Britain, supplementing their diet with seeds, berries and molluscs. A hard winter can be devastating, causing very high juvenile mortality and knocking back populations hard. Some individuals in the British breeding population are migratory but they do not go further than the Mediterranean. Other populations, such as those in Siberia, are much longer distance migrants, and wintering populations are found in sub-Saharan Africa and in India, though some in Britain are thought to be near sedentary.  These sedentary birds get to begin their breeding season early, in March or April, typically sitting on eggs or feeding chicks when their nearest relative in Britain, the Whinchat (S. rubetra) is still making its way back from Africa, and can raise 3-4 broods compared to the Whinchat’s average of one. While migration presents its own challenges, there is a cost to its long distance travel in breeding opportunity.  Unlike long range migrants, the Stonechats in Britain also look set to gain from climatic change, as winters become milder.

Pair of Stonechats at Purfleet Marshes.

Stonechat numbers at RSPB Rainham Marshes, as it is known to the RSPB, or Purfleet Marshes as it is known to everyone else, begin to rise in September. These birds are often accompanied by Whinchats, similar but distinguished by their more slender shape and bold pale supercillium.  The Whinchats are gone by the time the winter sets in, down to Subsaharan Africa like so many British-breeding insectivorous birds, but Stonechats however must tough it out. They are related to Robins and share many of their relatives’ charm, and are often very confiding and will allow people to get quite close, and get good views. They are striking, even in winter when their fresh plumage is duller, before it wears down to reveal its breeding finery. The male has an orange breast, and near black upperparts with a white partial collar around his neck, and white wing markings.  I met a pair last weekend at the reserve, perched on the dry, upright remains of an umbelliferous plant, against a grey and forbidding sky.  They tolerated my slow approach, even when I was concerned I had flushed the female from her perch she had simply taken off to snatch an insect out of the air, and returned to it.  Somewhat romantically, stonechats, like some other species, typically move in pairs throughout the year.   Eventually she dropped down into the reeds as I walked by, although she rose occasionally to hover and seize passing insect, taking advantage of the continuing mild spell which allows these creatures to remain on the wing. Her mate eventually followed.

Walking on a moor near Bakewell in Derbyshire with my partner in the last days of October, tenacious Stonechats were still present, and are likely to remain so through the winter.  The moors are sparse, the vegetation faded to the colour of a red grouse, though a few small insects were flying around boggy patches. Wild animals were few and far between, Meadow Pipits were present in ones and twos, and a predatory Merlin flew over us, but a gaze across the damp and dead vegetation would typically reveal only sheep. The wind was cold, and as the winter progresses it will only get colder.  One handsome male perched on emergent fronds of dry bracken as Red Grouse flew out of the heather around them, watching us, calm and confiding as a garden robin.   He may spend the winter up here, or perhaps move down to open spaces such as wetlands at lower altitudes, but he, a tiny insectivore, will not be visiting gardens or attending feeders like his relatives from the Christmas card, he will be out here, toughing it out.

Male Stonechat at Purfleet Marshes

A special tribe of Butterflies.

As Summer moves into Autumn, the peak diversity of butterflies has past, but a few species persist in our gardens and in the countryside, even as September becomes October. Speckled Wood (Pararge aegeria, L.) can fly well into November in their sheltered woodland edge habitat. However, these are not the most spectacular of Autumn butterflies. This prize must go to the members of the tribe Nymphalini, sometimes referred to as “the Aristocrats” in old field guides, or rather, a subset of them, the bright, boldly marked and coloured butterflies which dazzle on garden Sedumand even on rotting fallen fruit into early October each year.

Red Admiral (Vanessa atlanta) Enjoying the riches of Autumn, September 2014

These stunning bugs are out and active so late in the year for a reason.  They do not spend the winter as sleepy larvae, hunkered down somewhere out of the way like so many temperate zone butterflies. While my Northern Brown Argus (Aricia artaxerxes) the lycaenid unrelated to the Aristocrats, with which I worked the summer of 2013, remains an unassuming caterpillar, seeking a warm spot among the scrub of its hillside habitat in which to escape the frosts, Red Admirals (Vanessa atlanta)  and Small Tortoiseshells (Aglais urticae) are preparing for the epic ways in which these species escape the cold.  Small Tortoiseshell  and Peacock (A. io) look for sheltered corners, often venturing into homes and outbuildings, in which to roost out the cold, dark months, avoiding the depredations of spiders and other predators and incidental predators somehow, whilst in a state of torpor. Red Admirals, and the closely related Painted Lady (V. Cardui) feed frantically to fuel their ascent to several hundred metres altitude and their long migration back to Southern Europe where they can escape the worst of the North European Weather.

Polygonia c. album at Roding Valley, Essex, April 2014

Aglais io at Two Tree Island, Essex, April 2014

 The Aglais nymphalids, and the related Comma (Polygonia c-album) which also undergoes hibernation as an adult, have larvae which grow and feed communally on stinging nettles (Urtica dioca) and sometimes on Hops (Humulus lupulus) in the case of the Comma.  All have more than one generation on the wing in a year, with large numbers of all three on the wing in July. Their offspring go on to feed, grow and ultimately hibernate as adults. They emerge and embark on a brief but frantic period of feeding. Their bodies are modified for this, they will have no interest in reproduction until the spring.  Their wings, whilst bright and gaudy on their uppersides, are all remarkably plain on the underside, closely resembling a dead leaf. Stationary, and with their wings closed, they can virtually disappear into their winter environment.  On the whitewashed walls of a building, be it a camp site wash block or the attic of a suburban home, they are more conspicuous, but perhaps have less to fear from predators. Peacocks will still flash their eye spots when threatened, in the hope of dazzling of confusing a predator, but in the main they remain still and silent, before, as the weather warms, they become slowly active, before heading out into a new spring, often somewhat faded, to regain their energy levels, and finally go about the business of courtship and reproduction, assured of blackthorn blossom on which to find nectar, and fresh nettles on which to lay their eggs.  All are among the first butterflies to appear in spring. As the weather turns I wonder if I must wait that long to see them, or if stragglers will yet grace my Sedums this year. Nymphalini butterflies, which like all North European butterflies are largely nectar feeders and cannot ingest pollen, in the active state, can typically live a couple of weeks as adults.

The Early bug catches the blackthorn blossom. Overwintered Aglais urticae. Roding Valley, Essex, April 2014.

The genus Vanessa, which includes the hugely widespread Painted Lady (V.cardui), resident on every continent except Antarctica, and the Red Admiral (V. atlanta) have evolved a strategy even more remarkable with which to face the ravages of the North European climate.   It was long thought that these species dispersed from Southern European breeding grounds to Northern Europe, erruptively, settling in Britain and other countries, and produced a brood of caterpillars which fed through the summer, pupated, and then emerged between July and September, only to perish in great numbers when the first frost set in. The evolutionary absurdity of this theory was not explored, and even after Southward movements of Red Admirals had been detected and their migratory habits acknowledged, painted ladies were still thought to colonise Northern Europe afresh every summer only to die in their millions.  This, of course, is not true. Painted Ladies can cross oceans, and they cross them far higher than human eyes can see. Tiny signatures picked up on vertical facing radars, such as the purpose built entomological ones at Rothamstead Research,   show butterflies climbing to altitude, up to a kilometre above the ground, including at night, and carefully selecting a Southerly heading and a Southerly wind back to the areas where their parents or grandparents were pupae.  Large and powerful amongst  butterflies, paper thin and fragile against seas and windy skies, Painted Lady and Red Admiral navigate the chill autumn skies in vast numbers and at altitude, their heights taking them free of bats and diurnal predators, some form of evolved internal compass guiding them to their destination.   If you read as I type, perhaps they could be up there right now. In the spring their descendents make the return journey to take advantage of the flowers and the abundant thistles and nettles of Britain and other parts of Northern Europe.

A world traveller. V. cardui, Arnside Knott, Cumbria, August 2013.

(All photos are original. Do not reproduce for profit. Feel free to enjoy, or use in your essays)

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

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.