Martin Mere 12th January 2013

A bright winters day and an exam behind me, a new year with few opportunities to get out,  today it was time to go birding again. With friends from Lancaster I drove down the M6 to the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust reserve at Martin Mere near Southport, on the Lancashire Coastal Plain, about forty minutes South of Lancaster.  In stark contrast to the terrain up here, the area is disconcerting flat, a landscape at odds with my previous experience of this county. At the time of my last visit back on October I had been impressed with the site in general, but a little disappointed not to find the huge numbers of swans associated with other sites in the area. As we drove down narrow but appropriately named “Curlew Way,” a single track road through the flat country which represents one of the approaches to the site, we saw a number of swans grazing beside the road.

Drake Pintail

We arrived just after 11, and made our way through the wooden visitors centre and into the “duck zoo” area. At many of its Wetlands Centre the Trust manages a collection of wildfowl and other creatures from the wetlands of the world, and Martin Mere is  no exception. The flamingos were beautiful to look at, as were the eider with which they rather inexplicably shared a pond, the latter cooing contentedly. A few Whooper Swans seemed to have ventured into the duck zoo as well, and it was these which were to be rather the stars of the day.

Whooper Swans and Greylag Goose.

We made our way through the heavy metal gates and leaving the domesticated waterfowl behind us made our way to the Raines Observatory, one of several wooden hides overlooking the lake and reed beds. The sheer density of wild waterfowl was impressive, and “never seen so many birds in one place in my life” comments were overheard. The ground in front of the hide was muddy, disturbed by the big feet of the Whooper Swans (Cygnus cygnus) and Greylag Geese (Anser anser) both of which were present in dozens. On the shore ran Ruffs (Philomachus pugnax), smart wintering waders enjoying the relatively benign conditions of the Mere, while their breeding sites on the continent become uninhabitable.  A couple of Lapwings (Vanellus vanellus) whistled and flew their big, sweeping display flights, on their distinctive broad wings over the water. In the water were a number of handsome drake Pintail (Anas acuta) with chocolate brown heads and white neck flashes, large, only subtly smaller than the Mallards (A. platyrynchos) but far more slender and elegant than their more abundant relative, with sharply pointed tails in both sexes, the drake’s sharp, black tail quill giving the species its name.  Teal, widgeon and shelduck were also here among the ducks. In the distance skeins of pink-footed geese flew in and alighted on the fields adjacent to the reserve.  It was an overheard comment about a Green-Winged Teal being seen from the Ron Barker hide which spurred us on to move.  Enquiries revealed the bird had been sitting on an outflow pipe “right in front of” the Ron Barker hide.

Ruff with drake Teal (r) and Pintail (l) behind

Wandering on down the path toward the Ron Barker Hide, named for an early supporter and friend of Sir Peter Scott, founder of the WWT, we came to a split in the path, and of course followed the spur which led us through some promising looking scrub woodland. A mixed flock of passerines above us had my attetion. Identifying birds from immediately below as they forage for seeds in the alders was something of a challenge, but as one of the birds turned to extract some seeds from a choice catkin it revealed a chestnut crown and a black cheek marking that was distinctive. A tree sparrow! A lovely bird and a year tick. Some people passing us seemed intrigued by what we’d found, only to walk away uninterested when we said it was a Tree Sparrow. Having, not so long ago, expected to travel to Dungeness to see this charming species, a close relative of the more familiar house sparrow, I was rather surprised by their indifference. Perhaps they’d been to Eastern Asia where it is far more common.   The tree sparrow was accompanied by chaffinches and a couple of goldfinches, which busied themselves feeding on the alder trees.

Pintail pair (front) and Widgeon pair (back)

We reached the Ron Barker hide, and looked out over the open expanse of wetland. There were several Teal about, and a scruffy individual swimming in the ditch immediately outside the hide briefly caught my attention.  It turned out to be just that as a couple beside us had found the Green Winged Teal (Anas carolinensis) sitting on an outflow pipe as described, well out of the range of binoculars. They let us have a glance through their telescope, and although not terribly distinctive, the vertical white line on its flank, and the absence of a horizontal one, was clear to see. This American bird had presumably been blown of course during a flight down the Eastern seaboard of the United States, and, reluctantly, one imagines, became one of the handful of birds to cross the Atlantic to Britain every year. We would, I admit, never have found it without the help of the couple with the scope, but what a lovely bird! The white line is something I’d think to look for, scanning through flocks of teal with the bins for it, but this bird is a first. It was far too distant for a photo, but it is memorable. 

As we sat in the Ron Barker hide we saw the distant flocks of pink feet moving again, and watched a Grey Heron fly along the length of a small channel cut into the grassland in front of us, spooking several Teal (Anas creccia) and Widgeon (Anas penelope) into making brief flights. We took lunch and watched a Little Grebe diving about in the drainage channel. Gadwall and  Shoveller seemed curiously conspicuous by their absence.

View of Martin Mere

From the Ron Barker we went into the Kingfisher hide, a pill-box like, reinforced-looking structure, which offers panoramic views of the wide, flat landscape and the Marshes. Once the largest body of freshwater in Lancashire, prior to several drainage attempts for agriculture, a shared history with many of Europe’s wetlands, the lake and surrounding marshland still looks huge from here. There were noisy finches in the trees behind the concrete hide, but a scan through the flock revealed them to be composed of common greenfinches and chaffinches, scarcer finches absent, surprising given the sites’ tree sparrows and the richness of other wet woodlands nearby. Perhaps it lacks the continuity and large area of similar woodlands in Lancashire. A large bird of prey sitting on a fence turned out to be a Buzzard. It sat calmly on the fence, apparently uninterested in the cluster of brave or foolhardy teal and mallard which swam in a pool beside it.  Sometimes these dramatic birds will take up perches like this to hunt for worms, looking for movement in the mud or grassland beneath. It is an effective strategy, Buzzards in Holland are thought to thrive on worms, although phrases like “reduced to hunting worms,” an anthropomorphism, are forgivable when considering the majesty of raptors like this when they are more commonly encountered, doing things like soaring over open moorland.

Asian Short Clawed Otter

We headed into the Duck Zoo for the inevitable cooing over otters experience. The Kits had grown since my last visit, and were as big as their parents. They came trooping over for the whitebait one of the guides threw them. Again we were advised to swim in the Amazon with the huge and highly territorial Giant River Otters which feed on Piranhas in it. Someone should probably advise the enthusiastic and otherwise well-informed volunteer of the folly in this before some young traveller sues him for a lost arm.  The Asian Short Clawed otters here had none of their South American relative’s menace and elicited the inevitable cooing noises that only otters can generate. The otter feed takes place only half an hour before the wild swan feed. Having encountered this at the WWT’s site at Welney on the Cambridgeshire/Suffolk/Norfolk border, down South, I was keen to see it again. What awaited us when we reached the Swan Link hide was impressive, and indeed somewhat breathtaking. Hundreds of the big white adult Whooper Swans with their black and yellow beaks, plus a handful of greyer Juveniles, with paler beaks, were waiting eagerly on and by the lake shore. There were greylags, more Pintails than one could shake a stick at, Mallards, a few of the feral farmyard type, Teal and Widgeon, but the swans! It is an experience well worth the WWT entrance fare and a fine demonstration of what a good cause it goes to. These birds had flown in from Iceland, where they breed, for the winter, in their family groups, and now they were gathered, spectacularly, just feet away from us.  A man walking down with a wheelbarrow signalled the beginning of the feeding frenzy. He walked along the muddy shore and scattered grain for the hungry and expectant waterfowl. Ducks scurried about the feet of the swans grabbing what they could and trying to avoid the hard beaks of the Whoopers, which would deliver a sharp peck if the ducks came close. The Ruffs, uninterested in the food, just scurried about bemused by the activity around them.  The swans and ducks plumage was soon muddy from the churned, wet earth. Shelducks seemed to have adopted a habit of flying over the swans, grabbing a few unattended seeds, and then flying back over the swans before they were noticed.  The smaller species seemed more vulnerable to getting a sharp peck from one of the aggressive swans. As the man passed by and the seeds had largely been filtered from the mud by broad beaks of various sizes, a calm descended. We took the opportunity to have a look at some distant Cormorants (Phalacrocorax carbo) through someone’s scope, one of them was already developing the white markings on the neck which marked it as a subspecies sinensis, more typical of central and southern Europe than Lancashire. Another which appeared to be a juvenile held its wings spread to dry its feathers in the wind.  

Swans waiting to be fed.

Shelduck.

 

Despite the beauty and spectacle of the densely birded Wild Side, we decided to check out a little more of the duck zoo.  Although it has never truly caught my imagination I was encouraged by the interest among my friends that the global waterfowl collection seemed to generate. We saw a Black Swan, handsome American Buffleheads, and stunning Mandarin and Carolina Wood Ducks from China and the USA respectively. It would of course have been far more exciting to encounter these species as vagrants on the wild side, but they were pretty and I suppose the educational value in showing people the world’s wetlands, and telling them about the threats they face cannot be bad. Nonetheless after a no-show, again, from the WWT’s elusive Beavers, we went back out to the wild side and down to the smart, elegantly carved “Harrier Hide” which overlooks some wetland recently reclaimed from agriculture for wetland wildlife, its drainage reversed. I’d hoped for a Marsh Harrier, or a Short Eared Owl quartering over the reeds, but no such luck. We’d seen a Kestrel on the way up so I would have to be content with a two-raptor day. A few Tufted Ducks and sleepy Teal sat about on the water, and some mallards, one a white farmyard type, browsed in a shallow pool. The sun had begun to set, staining the sky a deep red, reflecting off the cirrus clouds which had gathered in it.  We made our way back to the car in the fading light, the honking of the geese still ringing in our ears.

Sunset over Martin Mere

Full Species List: (broadly, international common names used, my preference)

 En Route: Pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus) Starling (Sturnus vulgaris)

At Martin Mere in the wild:  Whooper Swan (Cygnus cygnus) Greylag Goose (Anser anser) Pink Footed Goose (Anser brachyrynchus) Eurasian Teal (Anas creccia) Northern Pintail (Anas acuta) Mallard (Anas platyrynchos) Feral Duck (Anas platyrynchos. ssp domesticus) Eurasian Widgeon (Anas penelope) Green Winged Teal (Anas carolinensis) Shelduck (Tadorna tadorna) Eurasian Coot (Fulica atra) Common Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus) Pochard (Aythya ferina) Tufted Duck (Aythya fuligula) Little Grebe (Tachybaptus ruficolis) Great Cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo ssp. carbo & P. carbo ssp sinensis) Ruff (Philomachus pugnax) Northern Lapwing (Vanellus vanellus) Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea) Black Headed Gull (Chroicocephalus ridibundus) Common Buzzard (Buteo buteo) Feral Pigeon (Columba livia) Common Woodpigeon (Columba palumbens) Collared Dove (Streptopelia decaocto) Carrion Crow (Corvus corone)  Blue Tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) Great Tit (Parus major) European Blackbird (Turdus merula) Redwing (Turdus iliacus) European Robin (Erithacus Rubecula) Dunnock (Prunella modularis) Common Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs) European Greenfinch (Carduelis chloris) Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis) Eurasian Tree Sparrow (Passer montanus) 

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.