Monday morning, I braved the world beyond Hemel/Bovingdon and headed north to the Wallington Road, near Baldock. It was a Montagu’s Harrier I was after, which had been reported regularly over the weekend, “sitting in a bush”. Easy-peasy, I thought. Big bird, in a bush, can’t be too difficult. Of course, when I arrived mid-morning, it was nowhere to be seen and there were at least 10 others waiting for its reappearance. An hour in the company of singing Corn Buntings and Skylarks, and finally someone spotted the returning Harrier. It was way off to the east and difficult to make out through the heat haze but it eventually looped round to the south, coming to within about 400 metres, before flying out of sight, west. The overall impression was one of a slender, agile, easy flyer. It didn’t have the bulk of the more common Marsh Harrier. LGRE suggested it was a first-summer male although others have reported it as a female. This was the first I’ve seen so gender was fairly irrelevant. It was a Montagu’s Harrier - that’s all that mattered - the rarest breeding bird of prey in the UK, with just 7 successful nests in 2014!
Bovingdon (BMT): Yesterday morning, it was back to safaris at the Brickworks. I thought I might photograph the Common Centaury (Centaurium erythraea) or perhaps the Yellow-wort (Blackstonia perfoliata) but by about midday I was decidedly uninspired. I could see a belt of swollen black clouds heading my way and had all but given up. Suddenly, I stopped. Tiny, liquid, dark eyes were twinkling by the path. My first thought was, “oh no, not another dead mammal!”....until it dawned on me that this frozen, furry fellow was in fact living and breathing and caught in the startle response. Slowly, slowly it thawed. Trust grew and, realising I was no threat, it carried on nibbling its way through dried flower heads.
Finding dead, tiny mammals is one thing. Finding them alive and picking flowers is another. Total joy! I didn’t have my tripod with me but shot some video footage hand-held. The dark clouds, with their drenching rain, arrived mid-way through and I took shelter under an obliging oak. The little Wood Mouse (Apodemus sylvaticus) seemed quite unperturbed and scuttled along the path after me, before also taking cover. A second little mouse had come out and scurried about and I did wonder if these two were youngsters exploring. Whatever their age, they transformed the moment of gathering gloom (quite literally) into one filled with wonder and delight.
P.S The out-of-focus sections are entirely deliberate*
I went looking for big, bold Dark Green Fritillaries (Argynnis aglaja) on Ivinghoe Hills yesterday but was actually more excited to find the wonderfully named Chimney Sweeper moths (Odezia atrata). As with most insects you’ve only seen in photographs, I’d imagined them to be bigger, but their wingspan is just 23-27mm, similar to that of a Small Blue butterfly. These are sun loving moths, flying during June and July over chalk grassland, limestone hills and damp grassy meadows. The larvae feed on the flowers of Pignut (Conopodium majus).
Up close, they are smart little creatures, sporting white fringing on the tips of the all-black forewing. But, it’s the name that captures the imagination and infuses the sighting with a child-like thrill. In the midst of the great outdoors, “there’s a Chimney Sweeper!” and, even if not consciously, you “see” a wide-eyed waif, wings smothered in soot, carrying an appropriately-sized chimney brush. I do love the fact that somewhere along the line, the rationality of the scientist couldn’t stifle the imagination nor the desire to make meaning and express affection... even for a little black moth. It’s all in the name.
With the promise of pretty Puffins, I somehow managed to lure my non-birding younger sibling with partner into a day trip to Bempton Cliffs last Saturday. Strike one for the Puffin! It’s approx 3.5 hours drive from Warwick but actually a fairly easy journey (especially if you’re not driving...thanks guys). We arrived at about 1 o’clock to a queue of cars waiting to go into the reserve. Thankfully, it was only a matter of minutes and we were soon standing in the sunshine, being greeted by smily centre attendants, one of which was having a Very Important Conversation with a Proper Birder and obvious RSPB Member. Said Birder was hot, sweaty and clearly frazzled from travelling “over 3 hours to get here” and was keen to ascertain if the day would also include the ghastly and inferior General Public?!? Um, yes. ….Priceless.
Since my home is in the land-locked county of Hertfordshire, I don’t encounter a lot of sea-birds. I think we had a dead Gannet at Startops reservoir a couple of years ago but that probably doesn’t count. I’d never seen Puffins, Kittiwakes or Razorbills and my only Gannet sighting was a bird flying along the coast at Titchwell a gazillion miles out to sea. It was more dot than bird. I’d seen a couple of winter plumage Guillemots in Portland Harbour but again, distant views and I was itching to see them in their breeding finery.
Although we were all rather hungry, we decided we’d better spot a Puffin before lunch. I had no idea how vast the cliff face would be nor that every nook and cranny would hold one of the thousands of glorious sea-birds. It really is a spectacle! Anyway, Puffins spotted, lunch eaten and back to the cliff face for a couple of hours taking in as much as possible of the sights and sounds and smells of thousands of nesting, nurturing, feeding and squabbling Gannets, Razorbills, Guillemots, Puffins and Kittiwakes, with the odd Fulmar thrown in for good measure. Absolutely fantastic. I so rarely see such variety in such high numbers - the abundance was heartening and the life and vitality thrilling. Everywhere you looked, there was a story unfolding. You could spend days and days just watching it all.
I wonder what this pair were chatting about? The Razorbill seems similarly curious, whilst the Herring Gull (I think it is) couldn’t care less...
Puffin to Public: Do what I do, ignore the Kittiwake. I’m the star attraction…
Star attraction, striking a pose...
Other stories from the cliff face
Kittiwakes: Worried parents watch as junior explores….
Kittiwake: Keeping the little'n fed…
Razorbills: Careful parent, keeping its youngster safely tucked into the cliff face… (bottom left, if you can't find it)
Gannets: Incredible creatures - the largest seabirds in the North Atlantic, with a wingspan of up to 2 metres, carefully guarding their single, precious offspring, which will take 5 years to mature.
Guillemots (+ Razorbills) aplenty…
And, finally, returning to the star attraction, a few Puffin facts:
They flap their flipper-like wings 400 times a minute to stay airborne.
They can dive up to 200ft
They live on average up to 20 years
They usually pair for life
Their bills revert to a dull grey colour during the winter. The bright orange fantasia is reserved to signify breeding brilliance!
A superb day out and well worth the 340 miles round trip. I’d return in a heartbeat.
Since my home is in the land-locked county of Hertfordshire, I don’t encounter a lot of sea-birds. I think we had a dead Gannet at Startops reservoir a couple of years ago but that probably doesn’t count. I’d never seen Puffins, Kittiwakes or Razorbills and my only Gannet sighting was a bird flying along the coast at Titchwell a gazillion miles out to sea. It was more dot than bird. I’d seen a couple of winter plumage Guillemots in Portland Harbour but again, distant views and I was itching to see them in their breeding finery.
