Trip Report: Norfolk 15th-16th January 2011

Traditionally, I have a long weekend or a full week away during early January, to celebrate my birthday. I generally pick a quiet, cold, remote spot, not too far away from home - Grasmere in Cumbria last year, Dumfriesshire the year before, Robin Hoods Bay in North Yorkshire most often. This year I ended up in East London…

I guess the story starts around midnight on Thursday 13th January. When checking Bird Forum just as I was going to bed, I read this post. The UK’s first Slaty-backed Gull (probably), on a rubbish tip near Rainham Marshes RSPB. That’s big news, err, for people interested in that sort of thing, and one that would surely cause a massive twitch if the bird stuck. The bird was indeed refound the following day, so the weekend twitch was on…

Luckily, I had a weekend in Norfolk booked starting that very Saturday -  firstly, a day in the Yare Valley looking for wild geese, returning via the hotspots of the North Norfolk coast the following day. Surely I could easily fit in a few hours effort trying to see this most rare of gulls (if confirmed it would be the third ever seen in Europe). Now, as I’ve said before, I find twitching a slightly grubby business, and heading down to the Big Smoke to stare at a huge pile of stinking garbage in the hope of picking out a gull that looks very similar indeed to the other 1000s of gulls with it is high on the grubby scale. But, in the same way I feel about Pot Noodles and Queen – I can’t help it, I love it. And this was something I was determined not to miss...

I got to Rainham around 08:30 and legged the two miles to the waste site (after a failed attempt to tow a guy’s car out if the muddy car park – the poor sod was only in there to turn round). But I got a sinking feeling before I even arrived at the tip. The breeze off the Thames carried this complex smell of cheap sherry, stale bird shit, rotting fruit, and grandma’s piss. Tips are among the best places to watch gulls – that’s why so many birders don’t do it.

There were maybe a thousand twitchers there already (the more eyes the better, I guess), the majority of whom were stood, precariously, three-deep on top of a steep, muddy bank looking through a chain-link fence at a distant mound of filth. And this was the problem: the smell I could deal with; I simply couldn’t get a decent view. I tried to muscle in nearer where the gulls were congregating, but received short shrift (and short tempers), and made futile attempts to scan the gulls as the flew over (I don't think many could have of picked the Slaty-backed Gull out from below...).

1000+ people staring at a rubbish tip, hoping to see 

the UK's first Slaty-backed Gull. It wasn't there.

So, after an hour or so I decided to cut my losses and head for the beauty of rural Norfolk. Probably the best decision of the day: the bird wasn’t seen all day.

I walked back to the car park with a guy called George, who was working the turnstiles at Hendon Town FC (his Saturday job of 40+ years) as they entertained Tooting & Mitcham United. And in possibly the best result of the day, Hendon won 4-1.

Norfolk, particularly the bit east of Norwich, is not what I’d call “near London”, although it looked it on the map before I set off. So, I drove like Jehu to the Yare Valley, with Celtic Frost's 2006 album Monotheist on the stereo (their best since Into the Pandemonium in 1987: weird, dark, pretentious - classic Celtic Frost, although the band have split - again - this time "for the last time"...). My goal was to see one of only two flocks of Taiga Bean Goose (Anser fabalis fabalis) that winter in the UK (the other gaggle preferring sites around Scotland’s central belt). This was the real aim of the whole trip, a place and a time I’ve wanted to experience for some years. Wild winter geese are really something to behold. Obviously, I’d been blinded by the chance of adding a “mega” gull to my puny list, jeopardising the chance of seeing these fine birds before they leave in early February. But luckily I got to Strumpshaw Fen in plenty of time to get the latest gen on their whereabouts, and then get my arse down to Cantley.

The Beans are generally seen to the north of the River Yare with Greater (European) White-fronted Goose (Anser albifrons albifrons), and as added bonus, this year’s flock was carrying a Lesser White-fronted Goose (Anser erythropus), the best bet for a truly wild bird for ages. Wild examples of this cute goose are becoming as rare as Slaty-backed Gulls(!), with quite a few escaped birds around to confuse people.

I crossed the railway line, and a beautiful, flat floodplain stretched out before me, covered in fertile green grass and patches of rich mud.  I trudged across the fields, taking on both information (from other birders) and water (in my old boots), and reached the levee. From here I could survey the geese with the sun behind me, as they waddled over the tussocks and bowed their heads to munch on that lush vegetation. Occasionally they would look up showing the dark head and long neck of a Bean Goose, or the white blaze and paler breast of a Euro White-front. High above, small groups of geese honked away as they passed over (check out the xeno-canto site for a taster, or even some in-depth analysis, of this wonderfully evocative sound). Absolutely fantastic, and made all the sweeter by knowing I wasn’t stood next to a pile of rotting garbage. Result.

I moved on to join a group of ten or so birders who were looking for the Lesser White-front. We all noticed a smaller bird with a group of Taigas, and went through the diagnostic signs… The white blaze extending up over the eye; the long primary projection as the wing tips drooped over the tail; the small bill, the small size of the bird compared with the Greater White-fronts nearby; the obvious demarcation of the neck/breast shades when compared with the Eurasian White-fronts nearby; and, of course, the small size of the bird. A nailed-on Lesser Whited-fronted Goose, but a genuinely wild one? One for the ten rare men to decide…

After a pleasant enough night in some kind of cheap golfers’ hotel in West Runton (although there’s something a bit weird about the whole golf thing), I was traipsing around a field by the coastguard cottages in Weybourne at sunrise, looking for Lapland Bunting.

The Lappies could be in this field…

…or maybe they’re in this field.

They gave me the runaround for half an hour, but thanks to a couple of helpful, early-rising birders, I soon had some quite close views of a flock of five to ten of these birds, although only in flight. Still, I was happy – I'd never seen this species before, so I was on a high and the day had barely started.

While birding in these parts, I find it's de riguer to listen to North Norfolk Radio: a station so cheesy, you wouldn't be surprised if Alan Partridge really did work for them. Not that they need him - I remember one classic NNR moment that came during an interview with a member of Marillion, who were due play a "hot and sweaty" gig in Norwich that night. Interviewer: "So what's it like working with Fish?" Guy from Marillion: "Dunno, I only joined 6 months ago, and he left 20 years ago").

On to Salthouse to catch the usual Snow Bunting flock, and the chance to film one of my comedically poor videos:

Yep, if that one doesn’t disappoint, then this one of a flock of ten Shore Lark  at Cley later the same morning certainly will:

Cley NWT is a wonderful place, and I got my fill of all that’s good there that morning, including an American Wigeon among its Eurasian cousins, and some of the best food your likely to get at a nature reserve. Then after a cheeky viewing of the Pinkies and White-fronts at Holkham from the roadside, I rolled up at Thorham Harbour to see the putative Northern Harrier (or Marsh Hawk, or North American Hen Harrier Circus cyaneus hudsonius) that had been the subject of much discussion. The bright orange beauty appeared on cue, quartering the marshes to the West, against a backdrop of three hunting Barn Owls, and then came close overhead as it flew towards Titchwell.

Titchwell: there are c. 2000 Common Scoter out there somewhere.

I went to Titchwell RSPB too, another gem on the North Norfolk coast, and enjoyed the last couple hours of daylight until the raptor roost. A few birders were left on the reserve at dusk as at least three Hen Harriers and ten Marsh Harriers came in to have a bit of a bit of a tussle before going to bed.

I had a long journey back up north, driving through the only rain I'd seen all weekend, accompanied by the brilliant Warpaint album The Fool. Let me tell you, it's a great record: the songs seem so simple, the production is so spacious, and the musicianship is good enough to excite a muso like me. It gives me this feeling that I’ve not only heard the record before, years ago, but that I used to love it back then too, and I'd somehow misplaced it and forgotten it. Warpaint seem to have incorporated a diverse mix of familiar influences into something unique: there are nods to the 80s UK indie scene, as well as 80s New York post-punk, plus goth (though more from early Cure or The Chameleons, rather than the cheesy stuff from Leeds), shoegaze, and even prog rock. Not a bad end, to a weekend that started off so, err, rubbish.

Twitching

Twitching. It always makes me feel a bit grubby. Driving to some random pond/field/gravel pit/back garden, to get a quick look at a bird found by someone else that you hope you will be able to recognise without someone else’s help, your heart sinking when you find there’s no one around when you arrive – Has the bird gone? Am I in the right place? Will I have to find it and identify it all by myself?

You then find yourself standing around with a load of older blokes – although, as time goes by, I’m finding that the other twitchers are more and more my age group. Funny that... You hope that there may be at least some friendly ones in this bunch; and, more importantly, you hope that none of them recognise you as one of the idiots who blurted out “There it is!” during a Brown Flycatcher twitch, while pointing at a Pied Flycatcher (yes, I’ll fess up – I was caught up in the excitement of it.).

Then there’s the guilt of leaving the family behind, as you drive off across bleak, anonymous fens, polluting the atmosphere as you go, while questioning the very reason for doing any of it in the first place. And all for a little tick in your book/spreadsheet/Bubo list. It's more like an mental exercise in managing your own expectations rather than bird watching, with some map reading thrown in.

But then again, I can’t not do it. Think of all the birds I’d miss! Having said that, think of all the birds I’ve missed (or dipped, in birding parlance) while twitching. The list is too long to recount. Anyway, for me time is so tight at the moment, that as soon as some free stuff comes along, I have to use it to its full birding potential. So a stroll down to the river looking at Goosanders, or a good bash around the nearest reserve hoping for a patch tick, or even a stalk in the woods hoping for the semi-mythical local Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, wonderful as all these things are, they just do not cut it when compared to the chance of getting a tick. Sad isn’t it?

Over Christmas I was hoping to get out birding (and twitching), between visits to and by various friends and relatives, only for me to get a stinking cold and the car to get impounded for three days to have new brakes fitted. But, I did manage one cheeky twitch. Somewhat sneakily, during a trip to the shops, I managed to drag the family on a detour to Sands Lane gravel pits in Mirfield, near Huddersfield, West Yorkshire.

While they all stayed in the car, eating into the inevitable chocolate mountain left over from Christmas, I got a good look at a Ring-billed Gull, a rare vagrant from North America, and a ‘first’ for me. The gull had been reported since late November, and was probably the same bird seen at the site the previous winter.

Ring-billed Gull, Sands Lane GP, Mirfield, December 2010

Younger Ring-billed Gulls can be hard to separate from Common Gulls, and I suspect adults aren’t so easy to pick out if you’re not expecting to see one. Of course, it was exactly what I was looking for, and I soon pick up the slightly bulkier, pale-winged bird at the back of a group of Black-headed and Common Gulls. The photo above gives a good account of the species, especially showing the pale iris (which is all dark in adult Common Gulls). And in an attempt to stick to my pledge to write better - or at least some - field notes, I scribbled down a description.

Ring-billed Gull, Sands Lane GP, Mirfield, December 2010

I even managed some video. The last four seconds or so of footage show both a Common Gull (on the left) and the Ring-billed Gull (on the right), allowing for a comparison; but you may want to pause this section for a better/longer view - the camera battery ran out during filming. To add to the lo-fi feel, the black blob that’s taken up residence somewhere inside my camera, has a staring role, centre screen…

Work has been busy in the first week of the New Year, but I did finally get to see the long-staying Rough-legged Buzzard at South Ferriby, North Lincolnshire (travelling over the Humber Bridge to get to it – a treat in itself).

Another first for me this past weekend was Mealy Redpoll, at Rainton Meadows Durham Wildlife Trust reserve. A large, fluctuating, flock of Lesser Redpoll (Carduelis cabaret) had been frequenting the reserve, with good numbers of Mealy Redpoll (C. flammea flammea), and a couple or more of the northerly Coues’ subspecies of Artic Redpoll (C. hornemanni exilipes) in there too. Some great photos on blogs and forums had whetted my appetite for some hardcore identification challenges. This was an excellent chance to study the subtle variations between these taxons.

The Bird Club had arranged for bird feeders, and access for visiting birders (those Artics are rare, and the Mealies aren’t common), allowing good views for all, and particularly for those lucky enough to be around when the Artics were present. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pick out any exilipes birds from the Mealies, and they were reported as ‘not present’ on BirdGuides the afternoon I was there, so I wasn’t able to connect. I wonder if one or two other birders convinced themselves they had, judging by things I overheard at the time and read later that day… Anyway, thanks are due to the staff at this nice reserve, and the birders of Durham Bird Club, for giving us all the opportunity. 

I’ve also managed to get out and about around a couple of my local patches, at Stockbridge NR and along the River Aire at Hirst Wood, near Saltaire. The year list is coming along nicely...

The sound approach

The weather has been terrific around here recently, low temperatures and lots of snow: perfect for Winter Solstice and Christmas time. My office is in Salts Mill, and has was very quiet before the Christmas break – mainly because most workers there don’t have the same luxury I have of walking to work, so they’ve been stuck in their cars or homes. I think the mill looks good in any weather, but it’s been particularly presentable recently - here’s a photo I took with my phone as I arrived last week:

Salts Mill, Saltaire

The day after I took the above photo, while at the very same spot, I heard an almighty commotion coming from the tree on the left in the picture. There were at least 15 assorted birds yammering away with their loudest alarm calls at the evergreen bush. The motley crew included Carrion Crow, Magpie, Starling, Blackbird, Mistle Thrush, Great Tit, and Blue Tit, and probably others. 

As every birder knows when they hear that kind of rumpus: there must be a top-line predator around, causing consternation further down the found food chain. At first I though there was probably a Tawny Owl in there somewhere, but I realised it would have struggled to fit in that tree. It soon became clear that the object of all the angst was a male Sparrowhawk, who flew to a conifer five metres away. That didn’t stop all the ballyhoo of course – it just moved with it.

I managed to get a short recording of the birds’ clattering. Notice how the commotion dies away rapidly as the Sparrowhawk flies on to its next perch: 

I followed the cacophony as the birds moved from tree to tree, around the allotments, then across the car park, around the toilet block, beside the social club, over to the railway station …until the Sparrowhawk eventually decided to leave town altogether, flying off high over the canal. It’s not easy being a predator.

On your doorstep

Aha! Something that really is about birds and music. My slightly mad friends in Being747 have followed up the tremendous success of their Amoeba to Zebra shows and CD with a new show called 'In the Valley', about the Dearne Valley, South Yorkshire. Going by their past offerings, it'll be brilliant, informative, and ridiculous, in equal measure. To quote from their site:

"Being 747 were commissioned by the RSPB and the Environment Agency to tell the story of the natural and social history of the Dearne Valley area of South Yorkshire. 'In The Valley' features new songs about revolutions, riverways, recycling, regeneration...and reed warblers. 'On Your Doorstep' encourages the listeners to go out and see what amazing nature surrounds their towns. A more active lifestyle is there for the taking. SO what are you waiting for? On yer bike! "

Here's a taster track from the CD:

Update 24/12/2010

Here are two more tracks. Brilliant, brilliant stuff...

Ice Station Rodley

 Upper dipping pond, viewed from the visitor centre, Rodley NR

Sometimes, I admit, I find it difficult to drag myself out of bed for the monthly WeBS counts. In the summer they can start at 5am. They're much later in winter, but by then it's dark and cold... But, I never regret it once I'm out there. These mornings have become the highlights of my birding month;  sometimes, when I'm busy, it's the only "real" birding I'll do. Every month I learn something new, about birds, mammals, the reserve, the weather...  And it's fascinating to watch the way the seasons change.

The December WeBS count at Rodley Nature Reserve took place this Sunday, and despite the relatively late start of 09:00, it was still really cold. The thermometer on the post outside the visitor centre confirmed it: -10˚C. Brrrr…

The lagoon was almost completely frozen over, with the birds sandwiched in and around a small area of open water no bigger than your average front room. Some 85 Black-headed Gull and 19 Common Gull jostled for space with Mute Swan, Pochard and Coot. Not much else about apart from the odd Cormorant overhead and a flock of seven Fieldfare (been a bit thin on the ground in these parts so far this winter, especially when compared to the vast numbers of Redwing and Waxwing dripping off every other berry-laden tree).

 The lagoon, viewed from the Lagoon Hide, Rodley NR

Taking account of the ice and snow, and the later start time, we changed our usual route around the reserve. By going around the back of the lagoon we’d be unnecessarily disturbing the birds, and any early visitors; so, after a count from the Lagoon Hide, we decided to concentrate on the river, where much of the waterfowl had relocated to get to open water.

 Rodley Weir, River Aire

The reserve staff had seen otter prints around the weir during the snow in late November. Unfortunately there were no tracks in the area this time, but that’s unsurprising given the size of a dog otter’s territory. Apparently, a dog otter will have a large territory, big enough to overlap several female territories. The male can move through this area very quickly: being at Rodley one day, and as far away as Keighley the next – a distance of 22km.

Apparently. there are plans by the reserve's landowners, Yorkshire Water, to install a fish pass at the back of the reed bed in 2011, at the behest of the Environment Agency. The plan is for a natural-type open channel to cut into the land north of the river, to allow trout and other fish to circumnavigate the weir. Once it's there it will enhance the wildlife on the reserve, though it's a shame it will be constructed during the breeding season.

In the area behind the reed bed is a Partridge feeder, one of many placed around the reserve, mostly in places away from pubic view. We found many Pheasant and Red-legged Partridge tracks going to and from the feeder as we walked, showing how important these were for the birds in winter.

 Pheasant, and possibly Red-legged Partridge, prints

Of course, it’s a good time to look for mammal tracks when there’s snow cover. We found fox and Roe deer tracks in many places around the reserve, particularly near the river. Birds can leave particularly interesting tracks, as they sometimes leave behind imprints of their wings when they take off. The tracks in the photo below were on the decking at the upper dipping pond - probably those of a Blackbird, judging from the impressions left by the primary feathers.

 Bird tracks, probably a Blackbird’s

My personal highlight of the morning was hearing the laughing yelp of a Herring Gull as it flew over the reserve. The call was loud and clear in the still air, and briefly brought the sound of sunny Blackpool to a frozen corner of West Yorkshire. The usual flock of 25+ Stock Dove was wheeling over the field behind the manager’s garden. These lovely doves are often overlooked, but there are one of my favurite birds. Plenty of activity around the feeders on the reserve, as you'd imagine during the severe winter weather, including the welcome sight of two red-listed Willow Tits.

 Work is progressing on the new education room at the visitor centre

Vistors don't usualy arrive too early at Rodley, and the only one was encountered on this quiet day was a chap sat drinking tea in the vistor centre. So, WeBS count all wrapped up by 11:30, with the thermometer now reading a balmy -3˚C…

Some proper photos

The birding has been a bit thin on the ground recently, mainly due to the weather but also because of commitments like “family” and “friends”. Ho hum. Also, my wife went to All Tomorrow’s Parties last weekend (curated by Belle and Sebastian, so I wasn’t clamouring to go with her), meaning I had three lovely days with the kids, but no “proper” birding.

Fortunately, I've managed to get out a couple of times during my lunch hour (“lunch 40 minutes”, actually), and wander around Robert’s Park, Saltaire. The Redwings are still present and correct, and are much easier to see now the leaves have fallen - I’ll have another go at counting them next time out. A Grey Wagtail has been bobbing around noisily over the field, probably looking for a bare place to land in all the snow. And a lovely first-winter male Goosander has been fishing on the river, entertaining the drinkers and diners in the Boathouse pub.

I occasionally go birding around the park with a work colleague, Paul Marfell, when our lunch times coincide. Paul claims he isn’t a bird-watcher, he just likes photographing them. He claims he’s not much of a photographer either, but he’s a damn sight better than me, although maybe that’s not so difficult. Over the past year or two, his bird knowledge, and photography, have really progressed.

In the summer of 2010, we watched a pair of Kestrels as they nested in Salts Mill. They had chosen to use a deep hole in the Mill wall, created by the recent refurbishment works and viewable from my friend’s desk. Fortunately, further work on the building was delayed, allowing the birds to fledge four young. Paul was able to watch them regularly and noticed that one of the chicks had a foot that was either deformed or had toes missing. It seemed to be several days behind the other three in development. After fledging, one of the juveniles became caught behind netting covering another part of the building, which was there to stop wildlife getting in. Unfortunately, it couldn’t find its way out and died.

Seeing as I haven’t got any recent photos of my own to show, I thought I’d show some of Paul's (with his permission, of course). It feels a bit like cheating - me putting someone else's photos on my blog - but Paul's too modest to shout about them. These were taken around Salts Mill, where we work, and the surrounding area. I hope you like them.

 Kestrels, Salts Mill (Paul Marfell)

 Waxwing, Salts Mill (Paul Marfell)

 Curlew, Baildon Moor (Paul Marfell)

Feral Pigeon, Baildon (Paul Marfell)

Long-tailed Tit, Baildon (Paul Marfell)

More of Paul’s photos are on Flickr:
Birds at Baildon and Shipley
Kestrels at Salt's Mill 2010

Soundtrack to Winter

I love Winter. It’s the booze and salty-snack season. It's also a great bird-watching season. The birds are often easier to see: less foliage to hide those pesky passerines; ice forcing things like Water Rail and Bittern out to feed… And there’s the added bonus of there being fewer people around clogging up the countryside. Unfortunately, the birds are often harder to get to during winter, thanks to family commitments, fewer daylight hours, and the odd hangover.

We're having another proper winter this year - record low temperatures and snowfalls. It's usually around this time of year that I find I’m drawn to certain music that seems inherently associated with the shorter days and colder weather. Generally, it’s music I bought or listened to previously, during a particularly memorable winter. As the nights draw in, I start listening to those same songs again. I guess this reinforces the association: it makes winter feel more like winter when I hear them. Does everybody do this, or is it just me?

Here is a list of some of this music, with an attempt at explaining why I just have to listen to it once winter kicks in. I’m guessing it's available for free on Spotify or somewhere out there:

Saturn Ascension Experiments by Union Wireless - A few years back, I spent a weekend in Scotland roadie-ing for Leeds band Chest, and this beauty was the only tape in the Transit. We decided to set off back to Yorkshire just as a blizzard was hitting the Borders, and after around 15 hours of snowdrifts and swaering, and a fair few listens to this album, we arrived home. Now, whenever I'm sat in a vehicle driving through snow, this LP plays over in my head. Released on the Spanish label, Elefant Records, it has a great lo-fi 70s feel to it, very organic and tube-driven. Each song has a nodding grove, with simple guitar drones and sparse stoner vocals. Someone once described it as Krautrock Moody Blues. Hmmm.

Wire Tapper 10 Compilation - The Wire magazine has produced loads of these great compilations over the years - they are gold mines of wierd and wonderful music. Wire Tapper 10 was given away with the mag’s October 2003 edition. I first listened to it in depth on a trip to Robin Hood’s Bay in North Yorkshire, that December, on my way to witness a friend getting married on the beach. Among the many brilliant memories of that trip, every track on this double CD became lodged in my mind, forever associated with the east coast of Yorkshire in winter. It’s got some cracking tracks on it, in fact the only slightly dodgy one is by Ui. Even the Laibach song is great, if only because it’s so po-faced as to be completely risible.

Victorialand by The Cocteau Twins - I’m not going to go on about this. It’s my favourite album of all time, and I’ll listen to it at any time of year. A friend of mine once described it as sounding “smudged” - he meant it in a good way, and he’s exactly right. The beautiful songs have a vague, blurry production, so you try to bring them into focus as you listen, adding some of your own character to the music in the process. It’s cold-weather credentials stem from the album title: Victorialand is a reference to an area of Antarctica. The song titles also seem to refer to the Artcic and Antarctic regions. But you never know with the Cocteau Twins.

Varde by Elegi - Now this really is about the Antarctic, but there’s no blissful dream pop here. Inspired by the rescue mission to find the ill-fated Terra Nova expedition led by Robert Falcon Scott, it’s slow, gruelling, modern classical music. Despondent, mournful strings play over ice-picks, shovels and hard breaths – I find it both wretched and seductive. Mark Riley played it on his BBC Radio 6 show last year, and it just made me stop in my tracks.

A Stable Reference by Labradford - I used to listed to this on tape on the train on the way to Falconetti rehearsals. We spent a winter rehearsing in a run-down old mill, where we would need to wear gloves to be able to play. This wonderful record, from this overlooked band, was the ideal soundtrack to a journey by rail through a frosty countryside of moors, rivers, and narrow valleys. I've lost that tape now. Maybe Santa will bring me a new copy for Christmas. Talking of which...

Christmas in the Stars: Star Wars Christmas Album - In a not-so-secret other life, I am a total Star Wars geek. I love practically everything about it, but even in a post-ironic galaxy, far, far beyond kitsch, this record is dreadful. I should have realised that before I introduced my daughter to it. Now it’s on several times a times a day throughout December. I love Star Wars, but not that much.