Boring, boring Waxwings

Right, hope that got your attention. Boring, they are not. If ever you cease to be amazed when you see one of these beautiful creatures then can I suggest that you either a) take up a new interest, or b) have a blooming good think about what you want from life.

 

Waxwing - photograph by Tony Fox

 

An email popped up in my Inbox from Tony this morning, with this photograph attached. Better than most emails I receive. This was one of the 13 birds he had seen this morning at Alton Water just to the east of Larch Wood. I can only assume that these were the same birds as those that were up by the cafe last week. It was 2pm when I had the opportunity to cycle down to see if they were still around. Two o'clock on a grey and bitter-cold winter afternoon is never a great time to go looking for passerines, but Waxwings are normally a fairly obliging bird. I pulled up next to where I had seen the Smew last week (see earlier blog post). The little inlet was tight with duck (Teal, Wigeon, Shoveler) and a lone Redshank yodelled his disapproval at my appearance. I waited a minute, as I was surrounded by bush upon bush of Wild Rose which where brim full of berries. I am accustomed to seeing Rose bushes thinly scattered in hedgerows, this is more of a forest of roses. I made a mental note to come and enjoy the site in June when the bushes would be in flower. Things didn't seem too promising, given the general murk, gloom and cold, but after a moment my ears picked up on the briefest of trilling notes - or was it my head wanting to hear them? A couple of minutes passed and another brief trill. For the life of me, I couldn't see any in the bushes, which were all obligingly growing at head height. Then it occurred to me to try looking up! Sure enough, there they were sat in a willow tree. Perhaps they had been laughing at me, rather than calling to each other. They weren't all feeding at once, one or two would take it turns to descend for or a berry or two or take a drink from a puddle. I can't recall seeing a grounded Waxwing before - they are even more beautiful when you see them on the deck.

 

I can see the Smew from here.

I had a bit of time to do some birding today so took in some local spots.

The other half was venturing down towards Twickenham on a non-rugby related event with the boy and I had some free time. Back from the station, I got on the bike and headed down to Stutton Ness in search of the Long-tailed Duck that had been around for a couple of weeks. No joy. The force three north-westerly seemed to have pushed birds elsewhere - even Goldeneye were scarce. Non-birding highlights were some nice, bubbly clouds over Manningtree and talking to a bait-digger who had been there since 6am! Now that is dedication. He had a head-torch and enough rag and lugworm as a result to last him for two days of fishing. He was telling me that a 100 lugworm costs £20 at the moment and that may only last 3-4 hours.

Dedicated bait-digger at Stutton Ness looking west towards Manningtree

 

 

Holbrook Bay, with the remains of Graham's Wharf in the foreground

 

 

A foray down to Manningtree next and after doing a few errands in town, I was looking forward to taking in the rising tide at Mistley Walls. Regrettably, our friends at the Met Office had again failed to script the forecast correctly and my time coincided with some pretty heavy showers. I had to be content with some close-in Avocet at Mistley Quay. Usually, the flock - which has got to 200+ in recent times - is distant, but these birds were only 100 metres off the quay.

 

After lunch, Alton Water beckoned. I had seen the drake Goosander off Lemon's Hill Bridge on Wednesday, across the border in Tattingstone. There had been a couple of female Smew seen from the Larchwood Hides during the week and they were my target. On the way down Alton Hall Lane, on a recently ploughed field, there was a nice gathering of 200 Common Gulls. Unusual to see a flock of small gulls round here without a Black-headed Gull amongst them. (On the way back there were 300).

 

Common Gulls (honest) with the Royal Hospital School tower (Holbrook) in the distance



 

 

 

The hides were Smew-less, but there was a good-sized flock of 134 Pochard, outnumbering their Tufted cousins four-fold. As I cycled back, I bumped in to two birders who had just seen a lone female Smew and sure enough, minutes later, I was watching it in the company of two Coots on the Stutton-side of the border.

 

The 2x zoom on the Sony Super SteadyShot DSC-W80 is just not up to the mark when it comes to wildlife photography! The two black dots in the right foreground are the Coot, the Smew is to the right of the left-hand bird (honest).

 



 

 

Sparrows - Part 2: Boxes ready

A fortnight ago, I took delivery of a dozen House Sparrow terraces from my esteemed friends Mike and Ali from the Shotley branch of the Suffolk Wildlife Trust. This is all part of the grand Operation Sparrow plan to involve as many different people and organisations as possible. It helps to spread the word about the House Sparrows' plight and shares the load. In addition, it is a nice little earner for the Trust, as every box made sees £10 go in to their coffers. Mike and Ali make them for free, which is utterly admirable. Conservation volunteers have been doing 'Big Society' for decades. It doesn't need politicians telling them so.

 

 

They are made with 12mm marine ply and have since had a double-coating of high-quality, water-based Sadolin, which should see them good for many years.

 

All I need to do now is get them out to fellow villagers who have been waiting patiently.

This is why - part 1

Well I suppose it makes sense to actually talk about Sparrows for once, considering the name of the blog. Where we live in Stutton, we are very fortunate to have House Sparrows in the hedge; coming to food that is put out and best of all, nesting in the roof. A space they share with Starlings, Swifts and a small bat roost.
Having this, made me hark back to where I was brought up in Surrey. I say Surrey, but friends often remind me that it is really just the outskirts of Croydon. They have a point. Both statements are true. Forgive me if I am being a snob. Growing up there thirty years ago, spugs were everywhere. Nesting in the roof-space and causing havoc on the old man's veg patch. But them some time between the mid-80s and mid-90s, they disappeared. They didn't just disappear from our garden, but from every other part of the village. I go back today and not a 'chirrup' is to be heard. That is a tragedy.
Perhaps the slow advancment of years and the responsibilities of parenthood are making me sentimental, but this got me thinking. I was thinking that I don't want our son growing up and asking in 20 years time, "Did House Sparrows ever nest here Dad?". So, behold, the dawning of Operation Sparrow. In short, a community project to save and increase their numbers by getting everyone involved - because it needs them if it is to work. Mark Avery, in his book Fighting for Birds talks about "keeping common species common". I rather liked that statement.
Rule 1 of conserving something is "Find out where it is". You couldn't ask for a easier species - noisy and sedentary. I read that the average foraging distance for adult spugs when they are provisioning their young is just 70 metres.  It is obvious from looking around the village where the hotspots are. They are concentrated off the main road (a fast 30mph zone, which in itself may play a part) and most of the housing is of an age where roof-tiles have lifted or gaps have appeared in the woodwork - ideal if you are a House Sparrow. It has taken no time at all to find out where they are and this is something that can be done every year. Try it where you live.

By Ec(cles) it was windy

Well this was the scene that faced us shortly after 7.30am this morning. On the drive up from Suffolk the Shipping Forecast announcer said "Force 8/9, backing north-west and decreasing to Force 6". At that stage I was beginning to wonder if I had chosen the right day to do my first bit of proper birding in over 18 months. The (welcome) arrival of a small child has accounted for my ornithological abstinence until today.

No sooner had we pitched up and a Bonxie went right over our heads heading north. A promising start I thought, but within fifteen minutes, horizontal hail hit. It was a case then of do what you could to keep optics dry, hold on to your chair (demonstrated below) and seek shelter until it passed.

 

 

For the next hour, until it lashed it down again, there was a steady trickle of Kittiwakes, but otherwise it was surprisingly quiet. It was nice to see a Woodcock come in/off and it seems an age since I have had an Eider down this end of the country. But there was no flood of skuas, divers or auks. A handful of knot went north and a group of four Shag followed suit. We headed in at nine for a drink and things weren't improving weather-wise an hour later so we cleared off.

 

For once though, the forecasters had it right and things did clear. So just before Noon we got in for another stint. Visibility was very good, so good in fact you could see the Gas Rigs 16 miles offshore, and the kittiwakes kept on coming. Whilst we had been away, a couple of Little Auks had gone through. The last live one I saw was back in the 90's, so given the conditions today I was hoping to connect and fortunately one went shooting through just off the breakers about half an hour after our return. Millenium tick!

 

Other goodies included a Short-eared Owl in from the south, two close Scaup, Scoter in to three-figures and more Eider. Passerine-wise, a nice bunch of 15 Snow Buntings right in front of our dune-cover was tops.

 

I just hope that I don't have to wait another eighteen months for the next sea-watch.

 

 

 

Does the Ivy League finish tonight?

Looking at the weather forecast, it looks like winter will be turning up tomorrow. So tonight could be your last chance to get out and check any ivy that is still in flower for good numbers of moths. The last two nights have been very mild so I was out for an hour checking the two remaining patches locally that have not yet gone to seed. In just four nights this month, I have amassed a healthy list of 24 different species, all feeding on ivy. I have even managed some respectable photographs:

Brick and Yellow-line Quaker
You could confuse the two, given that they both show a black dot in the centre of the fore-wing, but note the straightness of the outer cross-line on the quaker. Both species overwinter as eggs.

Satellite
This is a beautiful moth. This one I caught in the moth-trap last week, but the last two nights I have seen individuals on ivy. The 'sun-and-moon' feature on the nectaring specimens were white, not orange as on this one. Satellites over-winter as adults and once the caterpillars get to fair size in May/June they are partial to nibbling on other moth caterpillars as well as the odd leaf.

 

Merveille du Jour

Yes, you are right, this is an absolutely beautiful moth. If ever you hear someone say "eerrh, moths, they eat your clothes don't they?", show them a picture of this and if that doesn't enlighten them, cut all ties immediately.

 



I can't wait for next autumn now. I love setting a moth-trap, but there is something more tangible about going out and finding moths "doing what they do". I am reliably informed that come the spring, it will be well worth checking Sallow blossom as one of the first main nectar sources of the season, but I don't find Sallows as readily abundant as Ivy. I will certainly give it a go though.

Stumpy

I was on my hands and knees this afternoon forking over part of our freshly exposed vegetable patch. Thanks to our friends The Snobs for that.



The weedy edge to the side of the plot, left untended all summer, was alive with grasshoppers until recently. Maybe with the forecast mild conditions next week, there may be one last chirrup or two before the first frost finishes them off. The bushy, purple-flowered 'weed' was still pulling in some bumblebees though. I am a self-confessed, atrocious botanist (in fact I feel bad even writing the word). My crude attempts at identification have lead me to believe that this is Black Horehound. During the summer, after I had read that it was the larval foodplant of an attractive little micro-moth, I was seeing it whereever I went. Or maybe I wasn't.

 

Absent grasshoppers and the odd bombus were not exciting me this afternoon though. The action revolved around the ivy covered stump next to it.

 

 

This was left from when we moved in a couple of years ago. Remnants of a leylandii-type thing. As I was digging near it, I hoiked up a small larvae. About 2.5cm long, with a juicy, fat body and a head the colour of a Werther's Original, it was obviously a Stag Beetle. You'll note, I said "small larvae". This one was a mere infant. They live in their larval state for 5-6 years (typically in buried dead wood) and I have seen them as fat and long as my little finger. I immediately dug a hole near the base of the stump and put him (or her) in and covered it over. A delicate touch was now required, as I still had a bit more to finish off. A few forks later and up popped these:

 

 

As well as being a bad botanist, I am hoping this year to receive a nomination in the "C**p Coleopterist of the Year" competition. Saying that, given their size, I feel safe in saying that these are parts of a now deceased Stag Beetle, probably a female. Why so? I understand that female stag beetles don't have much of a life once they emerge from their lengthy subterranean sojourn. Wafting pheromones everywhere, they spend most of the time on foot searching for suitable egg-laying sites. Once they have been courted to within an inch of their life, they burrow down to the selected spot, lay their eggs and then snuff it.

 

Stag Beetles aren't everywhere, in fact they are quite localised, but if you have a stump in your garden there are going to be a whole host of dead wood invertebrates, not forgetting fungi, lichen and other plants that will love you back for leaving it.