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,

The Hala Starling Experience

The last few evenings, on the way home from uni, assuming I’ve coincided my arrival with the fading light, I have had the honour of what I can only describe as the Hala Green Starling Experience.  Hundreds, or thousands, of the birds have taken to roosting in the bushes which separate our gardens from those of the houses which back on to us, and, morning and evening, their flocks arrive and depart. When I was a kid I clearly remember walking with my dad and watching murmurations of starlings blackening the sky in Romford. The birds would roost in the trees which grew out of the roundabout, the junction of underpasses outside the library.  This must have been the late 1980s or very early 1990s, and birds change their distributions, and now, as far as I’m aware, spectacular murmurations in Metropolitan Essex are pretty much unknown. The Starling has declined in numbers by something like 70% since then, and murmurations do not happen over metropolitan Essex any more. 

Over suburban Lancaster, however, the situation seems to be rather different. There have been some huge flocks these past few days, I cannot hazard a guess as to how many birds were involved, but it must have been in the thousands, cloud-like flocks twisting and changing shape, the birds moving in close formation, coming in through the darkening sky, making several passes of the roosting bushes, a few individuals dropping out and perching there. A sparrowhawk at one point landed on one of the bushes into which they’d been flying and put some of the starlings up. Those deeper in the branches, presumably feeling protected by their enclosed position. The hawk went after those in flight, which swiftly joined the murmuration.  It went in for an attack and the birds avoided it, in a coordinated formation, a burst of speed moving like a wave through the flock. The predator seemed to manage to grab one, and was off pretty quickly.

Despite the paintwork on my car appearing to pay the price of these spectacular murmurations, it feels like something of an honour to watch such a wildlife spectacle over my home of an evening.  They continue chattering in their roost sites well into the night, especially if disturbed. Starlings generally behave like this only in winter, and the flock may have included birds which bred over a wide area, perhaps many of them breeding beyond these shores. Their murmurations are unpredictable, they may use one site for several nights in a row, and then, perhaps in response to weather or feeding conditions, they are not seen there for some time. Certainly, come the spring they will disperse again to their breeding habitats, and will perhaps disperse or move elsewhere long before that, but for the past few days the Hala Green Starling Experience has been a wonderful, and nostalgic, suburban wildlife spectacle!

Species Involved: European Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) Eurasian Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus)

Gateway to the Nuclear Wasteland?

The government is planning to dump nuclear waste in Cumbria, on the doorstep of the stunning Lake District National Park, and,  perhaps unsurprisingly given this knowledge, Saturday took me up to the town of Bowness in Windermere on the shores of the lake, to demonstrate.

The lake district is a remarkable landscape, its precipitous crags, high rolling hills and still, deep lakes inspiring poets over the centuries. Indeed, their descriptions were such that probably very little more is needed. The point is that Cumbria is remote, and as such, it lends itself all to readily to sites like this. The infamous Sellafield power station sits on the Cumbrian coast,  where it is processes nuclear waste from around the country, and beyond.  Suggestions of releases of radioactive material causing cancer in domestic pets and poisoning the catch of Norwegian fishing boats have never quite been proven but we all know they have been made.

Lake Windermere, Cumbria.

Current plans are to site a nuclear waste dump in West Cumbria, perhaps inside the National park, perhaps outside, the precise site is not clear. Previous surveys and reports have revealed concerns about the Geology of the area. The ideal site for a repository of nuclear waste repository, if such a thing exists, would comprise hard, non-porous rock, in a geologically stable area, under low relief.  West Cumbria was rejected for just such a dump in the late 1990s, at which point our government made advances toward to government of Australia to consider siting said waste there.  Unsurprisingly, their advances were rejected. And so the plan came back to Cumbria.  The rocks of West Cumbria sit about the Lake District Boundary Fault, which has produced tremors in historic time, and historic time isn’t that long in the lifetime of some of the country’s most dangerous nuclear waste.  It is not far from the places in which Britain’s adventures in Fracking shale gas will soon be commencing, the practice which caused such phenomena as burning tap water and earth tremors in the United States, dismissed in Britain as the result of “poor regulation.”  They also lie under some of the subterranean aquifers which provide water for some of the most populous parts of Western Europe- Greater Manchester depends on the Cumbrian hills for its water supply, as does much of the North West.  The Lakes are famous, too, and welcome millions of tourists from far and wide. Some local businesses can be forgiven for their concerns that some of their would-be customers may remain further South for fear of the nuclear waste. 

Dayglo Standards.

Those supporters of nuclear waste dumping in Cumbria, including the few local councillors who declared, much to the surprise of the people they represent, that the communities were “willing” to accept it, claim that “jobs” will be available to the local people, although they are less forthcoming about how many. These will largely be in digging out the holes in which the waste is to be stored, it is unclear whether they have accounted for the personnel needed should there be a serious radioactive accident.  Accidents and near meltdowns are dismissed by the nuclear lobby as something that only happens abroad, where workmanship is inexplicably considered poor, and management even worse. The Fukashima plant in Japan may have been poorly maintained, but what is Japan?  This is the land of the public private partnership, the Ladbroke Grove Rail Disaster and the filthy hospital, the land which would never fail to adequately maintain its vital safety equipment.  If the most technological advanced country in the world cannot safely deal with nuclear power, what is to be said for a country whose engineering record since the 1950s consists mainly of entries in Richard Hammond’s Book of Crap Cars?  The Cumbrian site, which leading geologists say is unsuitable, which was dismissed as unsuitable twelve years ago, will be accepting waste from all over Europe and perhaps beyond.

The problem remains of somewhere to site our domestic nuclear waste, especially following the decision to build a new generation of nuclear power stations as an alternative to coal and gas. I do not have any answers to this problem, but the consensus remains, that Cumbria is not suitable. With that in mind, a few good friends from Lancaster People and Planet gathered on the shore of England’s largest lake, the stunning Windermere, in the heart of the Lake District, and an icon of the country’s natural beauty, with concerned locals, to wave banners and sign petitions, and have a presence to express our profound anxiety pending the conclusion of the public consultation on Friday.  The demo was extremely friendly, a small crowd of fifty or so people from the local community gathered among the pigeons and jackdaws and ice in a beautiful place. Day-Glo flags stood in a row on the jetty, and it was disheartening but appropriate to realise they spelled out the word “Sold” against the backdrop of the Mute Swans and still water, snow-capped hills behind. Banners declared “no nuclear waste facility for the lakes” and beer mats, handed to passers by promoted the demo and declared that the nuclear waste was “for you, for eternity” a play on some marketing strategy used by the National Park Authority.  We signed some petitions and agreed to bring some literature back to Lancaster to make people more aware of what was occurring.

Mallards, Black Headed Gulls, Mute Swan, Feral Pigeon.

There were some hardy souls out , or some dedicated ones, who hung on in the cold for an hour or so. It was good to see some colour and hear some music, in aid the hope it would contribute to the cancellation of this frightening project. They were a good crowd and seemed pleased to meet the Lancaster crowd. After the demo we dispersed a little bit, some of our band making their way to a lovely little cafe up the road in Bowness, while three of us stayed a little while, to look at the bird life (this is, after all, a birdy blog, here comes the birdy bit...) and reflect on the potential impact of the development on this stunning place.  Mute swans and mallards ate out of the hands of demonstrators and tourists.  Further out on the water floated Tufted Ducks, and in the distance, smart Goldeneye, another diving duck, gathered in a flock, their white bodies and cheek patches separating them from the more familiar tufties. A couple of Goosander were about, a female swimming up and down not far from us.  Further out was a bright white drake goosander. This species used to be pretty scarce, perhaps partly as a result of historical persecution by fishery interests, but seems to be in the process of making a comeback. Goosander are big ducks, slightly larger than a mallard, and sit low in the water. Their toothed bills, they are among a sub family of ducks known as sawbills, mark them out as fish-eaters.  Unlike the Mohawk of the co generic Red Breasted Merganser, their crests are thick and give the impression of an oddly shaped head.  Also out there was a familiar bird I hadn’t seen yet this year, a great crested grebe. This common species had somehow evaded me this year and it was nice to see one out here.  I’d always thought of the lakes as something of an avian desert, host to plenty of wildlife, sure, remarkable invertebrates in the woods fringing many of the deeper, oligotrophic waters, and in the sediment of Windermere’s shallows. I’ve always been aware of remarkable fish, ice age relics like the Vendace and Arctic Char which live in the deep, cold waters, but I was under the impression these mesotrophic (like Windermere) and oligotrophic (like most of the others) lakes were of relatively little value for birds; their true wildlife value lying beneath the surface, but here was a good assemblage of species.

Mute Swan

A couple of swans strutted and waved their heads and necks in a courtship dance.  Someone got out a packet of Mini Cheddars, and within seconds, she was covered in pigeons. Handsome, white doves, none other than leucistic feral pigeons, descended in dozens.  The mute swans, clearly very familiar with people, climbed cumbersomely out of the water, and waddled towards us. Black headed gulls took up perches on the railings beside us. We’d watched other people feeding the birds, and then getting intimidated by the pigeons, and I’d always felt a little smug about it. I enjoy watching feral pigeons,  I find their behaviour fascinating and just think they’re very watchable, so I wasn’t adverse to borrowing a mini cheddar myself and crumbling it a little, offering it to a handsome white pigeon. Immediately the bird took up position on my arm. Several others surrounded me, perching on my back, my head, arms, shoulders. They felt very light, their wing feathers, even as they flapped about, very soft, but one of the birds beaks felt quite hard as it pecked me in the face. I didn’t look so smug and handed the Mini Cheddars to someone else, although not before we’d all posed for photos with the pigeons.

The Author With Pigeons.

Leaving the birds and the waterside behind we headed up to the cafe, and for an explore of Windermere and Bowness, and their outdoor shops. It was a great day. We’d stood up for something good, and we’d made friends with some pigeons. A couple of beers and a snowball fight later and we hit the train back to Lancaster.

Edited To Add: Links to petitions on 38 Degrees:

http://you.38degrees.org.uk/petitions/no-nuclear-dump-in-the-lake-district

http://you.38degrees.org.uk/petitions/stop-plans-for-a-nuclear-dump-in-the-lake-district

And for the benefit of Laura's bird notebook:

Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) Mallard (Anas platyrynchos) Goldeneye (Bucephala clangula) Tufted Duck (Aythya fuligula) Goosander (Mergus merganser) Great Crested Grebe (Poediceps cristatus) Carrion Crow (Corvus corone) Jackdaw (Corvus monedula) Feral Pigeon (Columba livia) Common Gull (Larus canus) Black Headed Gull (Chroicocephalus ridibundus) Cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo) Collared Dove (Streptopelia decaocto)