Category Archives: Nature

Winter treats on the Little Orme

23 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in bird behaviour, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Nature, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

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10th January - Daisy in the lawn

In common with the rest of Britain, we have experienced a mixed bag of winter weather on the North Wales coast so far this year and last week brought the whole selection together in its 7 day span. There were gale force winds, dull grey overcast days and some clear bright sunny days that darkened into clear night skies  full of brilliant stars. Of  course the clear nights brought forth morning frost and freezing temperatures, but they did not last for long.

Wood pigeon perched on the frosted roof

I usually try to avoid popular local walking spots on high days and holidays, but a need for some quick-fix fresh air and exercise on a cold but sunny Sunday afternoon found me heading for the nearby nature reserve on the headland of the Little Orme. When I first arrived I was pleasantly surprised by how few other people were there and set off towards the cliff edge to look out across the small bay. There were a few cormorants flying back and forth with a few more diving off the  tip of the headland. I watched a pair of fulmar flying around close to the cliff face, but that was it for sea birds; even the gulls were otherwise occupied elsewhere.

I turned around to walk back and heard the distinctive ‘barking’ call of a raven that I tracked to the top of the rockface. The bird was perched, hunched down with its head and neck pointed upwards and with its feathers bristling out around  its body. At that point I couldn’t see any other birds around that may have been provoking its behaviour, but a little later I heard it calling again from the cliff edge slightly further inland and looked up to see two buzzards circling closely above it, so maybe they were the objects of his annoyance.

Disgruntled raven

I already mentioned that this was a sunny day, but not yet that the sky was blue and – wait for it – so was the sea. One of the things I had come out hoping to photograph was gorse in bloom and luckily there were several bushes with flowers, but this picture of sunshine-golden gorse against a background of a blue Irish Sea had to be the one I included. It reminded me so much of Spain – apart from the sharp cold air that is.

Golden gorse in bloom against a background of blue sea

In total contrast I was then drawn to a patch of what from a distance I took to be low-growing white flowers but that was actually frosted moss.

a patch of frosted moss

I had been meandering around rather than walking with any purpose and stood for a moment looking around trying to decide which direction to head in, or as the place suddenly seemed to be filling up with people and their dogs, whether to  leave and move on somewhere else. Just then a small flock of jackdaw flew in very close to me and landed on the short grass at the base of the cliff. I am very fond  of these intelligent and sociable birds, and for want of much else to photograph I decided to approach them and try for some close shots.  I got within a few metres, began to slowly raise the camera so as not to spook them, then almost dropped it when I realised that foraging alongside the jackdaws there were two chough. I was excited by the completely unexpected sighting of these much rarer birds, and panicking too as I could see a couple with a loose dog heading straight for me. I managed to get two shots only, one that was too out of focus to present and this one that is a long way from brilliant but does record the event.

A lucky glimpse of a Chough (Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax) on the Little Orme

I got my shots with just seconds to spare as the dog spotted the birds and bounded towards them, deliberately chasing them away. I watched disappointedly as they flew away, but sadly the dog owners smiled at me as they passed, probably amused by their dog’s ‘playfulness’. I was not at all amused. I had a long enough look to see that one of the chough had quite a collection of leg rings of varying colours, so it is obviously one that has been well monitored and it  should be possible to find out where it came from. Most probable is the nearby Great Orme, but South Stack on  Anglesey is another possibility. If anyone recognises the rings, I’d be very interested to hear from them.

Stonechat - Saxicola torquata

I considered the possibility that the birds may return, so to while away a few minutes I walked down the sloping path into the valley created by past removal of limestone rock. It was sunnier there and almost immediately a small bird perched on a gorse bush caught my eye. Its general size, shape and familiar behaviour  immediately brought stonechat to mind, but this is another bird I’d yet to see here, so I was pleased to confirm that as I focussed the camera lens on  it.

Stonechat (m) in ash tree

As I was leaving the site I had another glimpse of the Stonechat where it was perched in a small ash tree. It was joined there by another bird which I initially thought may have been a female, but was actually a Dunnock.

Dunnock

New Year catch up part 11

22 Sunday Jan 2012

Posted by in bird behaviour, birds of the seashore, Nature, nature photography, Rhos-on-Sea, wading birds

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The variety of  wading bird species regularly foraging on the seashores of Rhos-on-Sea and Colwyn Bay remains pretty much the same as reported in the late summer/autumn of last year; i.e in the main, curlew, oystercatcher, redshank and turnstone. The numbers of  individuals of some species has decreased, but there are still plenty to be seen and in respect of studying the birds more closely, I find that less is more. With fewer numbers to distract my attention I concentrate more on watching individual birds and pick up on aspects of their behaviour, the way they move, how they feed  and such like.  I seem to find this the most effective way to assimilate information about a species and how I learn to identify them more quickly in different settings by means of what practised birdwatchers call the bird´s ´giss´ (general impression size and shape).

Oystercatchers are resident here and there are always plentiful numbers to be seen and heard in a variety of places along the seashore. They are very distinctive in their appearance and its long orange bill make it unlikely to be confused with any other large pied wader .

Oystercatcher- Haematopus ostralegus

Two oystercatchers (one ringed) and a redshank also with a leg-ring

Oystercatchers flying along the sea edge with wind turbines in the background

Curlews are best seen once the tide is quite well out as they arrive to forage around the exposed rocks and shallow pools. Despite their size and bulk, their cryptic camouflage is so effective that they can be difficult to pick out against the background of rocks, particularly those that host colonies of periwinkles. Once you have spotted one, more seem to magically appear, rather like those 3D pictures that were fashionable a few years ago that required your eyes to go slightly out of of focus before the image was revealed.

At low tide curlews are perfectly camouflaged against the rocks studded with periwinkles

Curlew-Numenius arquata

There is plenty of space here and the birds range widely across it. Often they may be spotted foraging independently and sometimes in small groups of two or three. I have only once witnessed an altercation between two individuals when one decided to oust the other from what was clearly a prime pool.

A skirmish between two curlew resulted in a great view of the bird's outstretched wings

Turnstones waiting for the tide to turn take the opportunity to rest quietly on the big rocks of the breakwater, springing into action as soon as the first strip of the shoreline is revealed by the retreating water.

Turnstones resting and preening in the winter sunshine waiting for the tide to turn

The particular spot I photographed the birds in is a favourite roosting spot quite close to the edge of the promenade, but they are not in the least perturbed by passing people or dogs. They know exactly when the water will begin to retreat and some of the birds move nearer to the sea edge to wait despite being splashed by waves.

Turnstone on a sea-splashed rock

Occasionally the cold shower pays dividends and a stray shellfish may be thrown up nearby.

A Turnstone seizes a mussel thrown up by a wave

Those on the alert quickly move further down the shore to be the first to explore the first areas to be exposed by the retreating water.

A closer look at the undersides of a Turnstone as it flies away

New year nature part 1

15 Sunday Jan 2012

Posted by in Nature, nature photography, Rhos-on-Sea

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I’d like to begin by wishing a belated but very sincere happy new year to everyone taking the  time and trouble to read this blog. It seems like an age since I posted my last offering, but other commitments, including our daughter’s wedding on Boxing Day and my venturing out of more-or-less retirement back into the world of work for the forthcoming next three months, have taken up much of my time and most of my energy.  As a consequence, for the last few months most of my nature watching has been glimpsed through glass, either from the house or the car, but I’m still aware of what’s happening around me, although with less time to record it.

(To avoid confusion I should probably mention at this point that I am back in Rhos-on-Sea, North Wales)

I have been restricted in my freedom to roam thus far, but I thought that I  would make that into an opportunity to have a closer look at some of the birds that are conspicuously present, but whose numbers or commonness we tend to take for granted.

The mild winter temperatures we have experienced during the first two weeks of January have given grace to the garden visiting birds to forage for natural food and there have been regular sightings of blackbird, robin, dunnock, house sparrows, great tit and blue tit doing just that. There were also a few visits from a beautiful song thrush earlier in the month, but I haven’t seen it lately. In the nearby trees there are regularly chaffinch, wood pigeon, collared dove,magpie and carrion crow. Then of course there are the herring gulls that regularly patrol the skies on the look out for a snack. They do make you think twice before putting out additional food for the garden birds, so is probably better offered confined to wire hanging feeders.

In the garden at the back of the house I often see two female blackbirds together that I think may be mother and daughter. This is the younger one with more mottled plumage. There is a male around, but I don't see him as often.

Starlings are everywhere, mostly sticking together in small flocks that travel around the area gathering in trees and on rooftops where they perch high on TV ariels  and chimney pots. They also frequent the rocks of the breakwaters in the harbour to forage amongst the rocks.

Starlings with an 'ariel' view of the Little Orme

Hanging up a feeder filled with fat balls has given me some lovely close up views of  the colourful and complexly marked plumage of individual birds.

The beautiful plumage of a starling feeding in the garden

European Starling – Sturnus vulgaris

Convervation status: Red

Still one of the commonest of UK garden birds, its decline elsewhere makes it a Red List species.

Family – Starlings (Sturnidae)

Smaller than blackbirds, Starlings are neatly shaped birds that have a short tail, a rather pointed head and triangular shaped wings. They appear to be coloured black at a distance, but when seen more closely they are in fact very glossy with an iridescent sheen of purples and greens. In fresh winter plumage they are brown, covered in brilliant white spots.

Their flight is fast and direct and they walk and run confidently on the ground. Noisy and gregarious, starlings spend a lot of the year in flocks.

Food and foraging behaviour

The European Starling is insectivorous, and typically consumes insects including caterpillars and moths, and also spiders. While the consumption of invertebrates is necessary for successful breeding, starlings are omnivorous and can also eat grains, seeds, fruits, nectars, and even rubbish, if the opportunity arises. There are several methods by which they forage for their food; but for the most part, they forage from or near the ground, taking insects from or beneath the surface of the soil by probing with their strong pointed bills. The bird plunges its beak into the ground randomly and repetitively until an insect has been found. Probing is often accompanied by bill gaping, where the bird opens its beak while probing to enlarge a dirt hole or to separate a lump of grass.  Generally, starlings prefer foraging amongst short-cropped grasses and are often found between and on top of grazing animals out to pasture.

Starlings are also adept at grabbing invertebrates directly from the air.

Song & calls

The Common Starling is a noisy bird uttering a wide variety of both melodic and mechanical-sounding sounds, including a distinctive “wolf-whistle”. Starlings are mimics, like many of its family.

Songs are more commonly sung by males, although females also sing. Songs consist of a mixture of mimicry, clicks, wheezes, chattering, whistles, rattles, and piping notes. Even when a flock of starlings is completely silent, the synchronized movements of the flock make a distinctive whooshing sound that can be heard hundreds of metres away.

Starlings are resident all year round in the UK, with their population boosted by large numbers of migrants that  arrive in autumn to spend the winter here.

As the shorter autumn/winter days draw to an end the birds head for their night-time roosts, gathering together in large numbers. Huge roosts may be found in a variety of locations including reed beds and city centres. In this area they head for the old pier at Colwyn Bay, performing their wonderful aerobatic display nightly and completely free of charge.

House Sparrow -Passer domesticus

House sparrow male

House Sparrows have always held a special place in my heart and I consider myself lucky that in each place I have lived there has been a little colony living alongside us, often literally sharing the building.  The local House Sparrow population here seem to be thriving; they had a successful breeding season last year and on several occasions towards the end of last summer I counted up to thirty birds feeding on the berries of the pyracantha hedge. Their plumage also merits a closer look, the shades of brown range from almost black, chocolate and chestnut to creamy white on the male, with females necessarily being restricted to more subtle shades, but still attractively marked.

The male is duller in fresh non-breeding plumage, with buff tips on many feathers. Wear and preening expose bright markings of brown and black, including a throat and chest patch, called a “bib” or a “badge”. This patch is variable in width and general size, and some scientists have suggested that patches signal social status or fitness,  although studies have only conclusively shown that patches increase in size with age. In breeding plumage, the male has a grey crown, and is marked with black on its throat and beneath the crown. The cheeks and underparts are pale grey. The female has no black on head or throat, nor a grey crown and its upperparts are streaked with brown. The juvenile is deeper brown, and the white is replaced by buff; the beak is pink to dull yellow.

House Sparrow female

The House Sparrow is a bird of the sparrow family Passeridae, found in most parts of the world occuring naturally in most of Europe, the Mediterranean region, and much of Asia. Its intentional or accidental introductions to many regions, including parts of Australia, Africa, and the Americas, make it the most widely distributed wild bird. A small bird, it has a length of 16 centimetres (6.3 in) and a weight of 24–39.5 grams (0.85–1.39 oz).

The House Sparrow is a very social bird. It is gregarious at all seasons when feeding, often forming flocks with other types of bird. It also roosts communally, its nests are usually grouped together in clumps, and it engages in a number of social activities, such as dust and water bathing, and “social singing”, in which birds call together in bushes. The House Sparrow feeds mostly on the ground, but it flocks in trees and bushes. For the larger part it is sedentary, rarely moving more than a few kilometres. Non-breeding House Sparrows roost in large groups in trees, gathering some time before and calling together.

At feeding stations and nests, females are dominant despite their smaller size

The House Sparrow is strongly associated with human habitations, and can live in urban or rural settings. They have been much persecuted in the past for helping themselves to our domestic crops and their numbers in towns and cities have declined massively. However, the intelligent little birds continue to adapt to our generally messy eating habits as sources of easy pickings and are often found around the areas where food is consumed outside, they inhabit zoos and wildlife parks; others gain access to the inside spaces of supermarkets and some birds have even learned how to operate the automatic doors.

To many people across the world, the House Sparrow is the most familiar wild animal. One of the reasons for the introduction of House Sparrows throughout the world was their association with the European homeland of many immigrants. Often it is regarded as a pest, since it consumes agricultural products and is blamed for the spread of disease to humans and their domestic animals. In most of the world the House Sparrow is not protected by law and attempts to control their numbers still include the trapping, poisoning, or shooting of adults; the destruction of their nests and eggs; or less directly, blocking nest holes and scaring off sparrows with noise, glue, or porcupine wire. However, attempts at the large-scale control of the House Sparrow have failed.

I came across this nature bulletin several years ago when researching the status of house sparrows introduced into other countries and loved it, so am passing it on.


Woodland birds on the move

31 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in bird behaviour, nature photography, woodland birds

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This is a wonderful time of year to see numbers of birds here in southern Spain,when many migrants from northern and western Europe arrive to remain for the winter, or stay for a short while to take advantage of available food supplies before continuing their journeys across to north or sub-Saharan Africa.

On my return from the UK, the first bird I looked out for in my garden was a Black Redstart. This species is resident in Spain, breeding in the mountains then migrating in large numbers during the autumn, when they head here to the southern coastal areas of the country. Many will stay until March, while many more cross the Straits of Gibraltar to winter in Africa.

Black Redstart - Phoenicurus ochruros (Spanish-Colirrojo Tizon). This is either a female or possibly a juvenile, perched on a sun-lounger.

The male Black Redstart is a very striking bird

This will be our ninth winter of living in this house and each year a Black Redstart has arrived to stake a claim to a territory that includes our garden. It is always a bird that resembles the one above, so either a female or a young bird, it’s tricky to tell the difference. I would like to believe that it is the same bird that returns each year, but that may be construed as sentimental and not at all realistic or scientific. I am told that this may simply be recognised as ‘a territory’. Anyway, I look forward to the arrival of the delightful little bird. They are always quite a few to be seen throughout the area, some will stay around where there are buildings, others in cultivated areas, on golf courses and even on the edges of beaches.

For the past two or three years, I haven’t got to see ‘my’ Black Redstart as often as I used to, as we  have also had resident Robins. The two species are closely related and the Robins, that are resident locally all year round, stake out the territory earlier on and defend it vigilantly. So, as soon as the Black Redstart puts its beak over the garden wall, the Robin is there to chase it away.

Robin-Erithacus rubecula (Spanish - Petirrojo)

It is interesting to see Robins as migrant birds, and this time of year sees the arrival of birds from the more northern parts of Europe swelling the resident numbers, with numbers of birds peaking in October-November. As with the Black Redstarts, some will stay here to overwinter while others will travel on to Africa.

Blackbird-Turdus merula (Spanish-Mirlo Comun) with very prominent white wing feathers

Blackbirds are amongst the most numerous bird species resident locally, but at this time of year their presence is especially noticeable. Juveniles disperse in August and September and ‘foreign’ birds arrive or pass through the locality, with numbers peaking in mid-October. Numbers of Blackbirds are attracted to our garden now by the masses of tiny berries produced by the Florida palms. As they are present all year, it is usually impossible to spot ‘incomers’ other than by territorial behaviour, when those I assume to be resident birds chase others away. The Blackbird in my photograph made it easy to spot that it was an ‘incomer’ as he was marked with white feathers. I would definitely have noticed him earlier in the year.

Chiffchaff-Phylloscopus collybita (Spanish-Mosquitero Comun)

There are a lot of tiny Chiffchaff around presently, at one time in the garden early this afternoon I counted ten and there could well have been more. A few will stay here for the winter, most will move on. Chiffchaffs are delightful little birds and very entertaining to watch as they flit and flutter through trees and shrubs searching leaves for insects. On sunny days, when there are clouds of flies or gnats about they perch on the tips of twigs and palm leaves, then dive down and chase the insects, balletically turning and twisting in the air.

It never ceases to amaze me that such tiny birds impart on these long journeys, especially those that are no more than a few months old, and marvel at their innate knowledge of where to go and how to get there and back again. And we call people ‘bird-brained’ as an insult!

Bring back Pampas grass

28 Friday Oct 2011

Posted by in bird behaviour, grasses, Nature

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There was a large clump of Pampas grass in full flower in the Botanical Gardens in Leicester, and when I arrived back in Spain the plant in my garden is  flowering also. I like the dramatic appearance of this very large plant, the feathery flowerheads are beautiful when lit by the sun and bow and sway gracefully when the wind passes through.

The clump of pampas grass in my garden

Cortaderia selloana, commonly known as Pampas Grass, is a tall grass native to southern South America and Patagonia and is named for the areas of pampas where it is found.

Pampas Grass is a tall grass, growing in dense tussocks that can reach a height of 3 m (9.8 ft) . The leaves are evergreen, usually bluish-green but can be silvery grey; they are long and slender, 1–2 m (3.3 to 6.6 ft) long and 1 cm broad, and one of the downsides of the plant is that they have very sharp edges and should be handled with care.

Pampas grass flowerheads

The flowers are produced in dense silvery white panicles from 20–40 cm (7.9 – 15.8 inches) long and on a 2–3 m (6.6 – 9.8 ft) tall stem.

The plant was named by Alexander von Humboldt in 1818, after the German botanist and naturalist Friedrich Sellow, who studied the flora of South America, especially that of Brazil.

Pampas grass plants may produce up to a million seeds during its lifetime

Pampas Grass is highly adaptable and can grow in a wide range of environments and climates. In some areas (for example California, Hawaii and parts of the cooler Northern areas of Spain),  it is regarded as an invasive weed, whilst in New Zealand and South Africa the plant is banned from sale and propagation for the same reasons.

I am not too clear how it is regarded here in southern Spain, but it is a frequent sight around our area where it grows on the roadsides and more particularly in our local nature reserve. It does not seem to cause concern there and is actually named on one of the information boards as being present.

House Sparrow (m) atop Pampas

The flowerheads are very long-lasting, appearing first in September, but after a winter of being battered by rain and wind, the plant begins to look rather scruffy. Despite that, I leave mine to stand beacause at some time towards the end of April or early May, the local flock of House Sparrows will begin to arrive to collect what remains of the fluffy flowerheads.

April-May-House Sparrows begin to strip the old flowerheads

It is a delightful scene; over the course of a few days the Sparrows strip the stems piece by piece, cramming their beaks with as much material as possible, then fly off with it, I assume in order to line their nests. They come in relays, both males and females and work industriously until there is nothing left on the dry stems and even pieces dropped to the ground will be gleaned. This has to be instinctive species behaviour as the House Sparrows that shared our garden in South Wales used to do exactly the same thing to the plant in our neighbour’s garden.

A male house sparrow with his beak full

My plant grows a distance away from where I sit to watch the birds and it is in a shaded spot, so I did not immediately spot that Greenfinches sometimes join with the sparrows for a share of the grass. I am not sure whether they too take it for nesting purposes or because there may still be seeds there to eat, but they want it badly enough to squabble over. They are not the only species I’ve spotted muscling in, the last couple of years Blackbirds have also been taking a share.

A Greenfinch squabbling with a House Sparrow

Pampas as a part of social history

Pampas grass was a very fashionable garden plant back in the 1970s, advocated for inclusion by the likes of Percy Thrower and has become a gardening icon of that decade. It was equally stylish to have a large vase of the dried fluffy plumes in the living room, where they looked very decorative, (I confess to having them myself- they collected a lot of dust). In recent years the plant seems to have fallen from favour, perhaps because it is a very large and modern gardens are on the small side, or maybe it is because growing the plant seems to have acquired a new symbolism, particularly if you display it in your front garden….

(tongue in cheek this next bit, no offence intended)

Urban Myth-Swinging

A widespread urban myth is that Pampas grass is used by swingers to advertise their presence to other swingers in the area. The most commonly repeated version states that in the UK and Ireland a patch of Pampas grass is planted somewhere in the front garden to act as a signal to passers by that swingers live in the home.

I had not heard that before and have to say that my plant was in the garden when I arrived, and will remain to attract and benefit a different kind of wildlife ( fortunately a high wall conceals its presence from the sight of non-flying passers-by.)

Despite the connotations, I would still recommend Pampas grass as an addition to a garden designed to benefit wildlife, if only to enhance the lives of your local House Sparrows, just be careful where you place it!

Interesting links relating to growing Pampas grass from: The Daily Telegraph on How to grow Pampas  and The Independent- In Praise of Naff

Autumn in glorious form and colour

25 Tuesday Oct 2011

Posted by in Nature, nature photography

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A post that speaks for itself, these images were taken in the University Botanical Gardens, Leicester.

Bird Study: Cormorant

24 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature, nature photography

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Cormorants are breeding residents here and since I arrived in July sightings of the birds flying or swimming in the sea have been consistently frequent, but in recent weeks their numbers have increased manyfold. Numbers of them now joined the ranks of oystercatchers and gulls that line the sea-edge as the tide comes in, and they can be spotted on the rocks of the harbour breakwater and perched on top of available posts. There are almost always a few to be seen on the lower reaches of the Little Orme, but now there are many, their black forms punctuating the pale limestone.

Cormorant – Phalacrocorax carbo

Scientific name from: Greek: phalakros=bald + korax=the raven and Latin:  carbo=charcoal

Common name: definitions of ‘Cormorant’

  1. (n.) A voracious eater; a glutton, or gluttonous servant.
  2. (n.) Any species of Phalacrocorax, a genus of sea birds having a sac under the beak. Cormorants devour fish voraciously, and have become the emblem of gluttony. They are generally black, and hence are also called sea ravens, and coalgeese.

The Cormorant's flight is strong and purposeful

A large and conspicuous waterbird, the cormorant has an almost primitive look about it.Its long neck makes it appear almost reptilian, particularly when swimming with the bulk of its body submerged.

Some of the Cormorants dotted across the base of the Little Orme

Cormorants are coastal rather than oceanic birds, and many have colonised inland waters – in fact the original ancestor of cormorants seems to have been a fresh-water bird, judging from the habitat of the most ancient lineage. They range around the world, except for the central Pacific islands.

All are fish-eaters, feeding mainly on small eels and flat fish. They dive from the surface of the water. All four toes on each foot are webbed which aids them in swimming and in pursuing fish underwater.

Cormorants are supreme fishers which can bring them into conflict with anglers and they have been persecuted in the past, although some enterprising Japanese and Chinese fishermen employ the bird’s expertise to assist them, training one species of the birds to dive and catch fish for them.

A juvenile Cormorant with partial paler underparts still present.

The birds are often seen standing with their wings held out to dry and the reason for that is a bit of a mystery and the focus of study. It seems strange that a bird that spends much of its time in the water should need to dry their plumage and all cormorants have preen gland secretions that are used ostensibly to keep the feathers waterproof. It has been variously stated that cormorants have waterproof feathers; they have water permeable feathers; that the outer plumage absorbs water but does not permit it to penetrate the layer of air next to the skin; that it aids thermoregulation,digestion, balances the bird or indicates presence of fish. However, a detailed study of the Great Cormorant concludes that it is without doubt to dry the plumage. (extracts from article in Wikipaedia)

Male Cormorant in his full breeding plumage, wings outstretched. This is one of my favourite Cormorant photographs, I took it in Sotogrande, Spain earlier this year (Feb).

Click on the link for more photographs of Cormorants in Spain on my blog ‘Nightingale Trails’.

Cormorants in human culture

  • Cormorants feature quite commonly in heraldry and medieval ornamentation, usually in their “wing-drying” pose, which was seen as representing the Christian cross. For example, the Norwegian municipalities of Røst, Loppa and Skjervøyhave cormorants in their coat-of-arms. The species depicted in heraldry is most likely to be the Great Cormorant, the most familiar species in Europe.
  • In 1853, a woman wearing a dress made of cormorant feathers was found on San Nicolas Island, off the southern coast of California. She had sewn the feather dress together using whale sinews. She is known as the Lone Woman of San Nicolas and was later baptized “Juana Maria” (her original name is lost). The woman had lived alone on the island for 18 years before being rescued.
  • The bird has inspired numerous writers, including Amy Clampitt, who wrote a poem called “The Cormorant in its Element”.
  • The cormorant was the disguise used by Satan in Milton’s Paradise Lost. The cormorant was significant as a symbol of “true Life/ Thereby regain’d,” and was ironically used by Satan. Satan sat on top of the Tree of Life as a cormorant in his first attempt to deceive and tempt Eve.
  • There is a cormorant portrayed in the first of the fictional paintings by Jane Eyre in Charlotte Bronte’s novel, representing Blanche Ingram.
  • The mythical ‘Liver Bird’ symbol of Liverpool is commonly thought to be a cross between an eagle and a cormorant.

Clifftop to seashore

24 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in birds of the seashore, Nature

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I will be following the migrating birds soon, leaving the cooling shores of North Wales for the warmer ones of southern Spain, but I have a few things left that I want to include in the blog before I leave, including this last walk up to the Little Orme and back along the seashore to Rhos-on-Sea.

This was a very sunny day following a week or so of cooler rainy days. Arriving at the headland there was a strong breeze blowing in from the sea, so although it felt very warm in sheltered spots,it was considerably cooler out in the open.

Kestrel hovering over the cliff slope

As I walked towards the bay I was surprised by the sight of a Kestrel hovering low down over the cliff edge. Views of Kestrels have been scarce during the time I’ve been here, so although the photograph I took is not good I’ve used it as testament to having seen one at all. I love these little raptors and never cease to be amazed at their ability to hang almost motionless in the air for minutes at a time. This one was utilising the wind and air currents and remained suspended in this position for quite some time, perhaps having spotted potential prey, before being disturbed by people walking along the path close by.

There were very few insects about ; this Common Blue butterfly sheltered from the wind down in the long grass

I reached the cliff edge above the bay and sat for a while looking out over the sea. I had half-hoped I might see a seal or two here as they do breed in the locality, but all I saw was a lone Guillemot swimming and diving in the choppy water. The sighting was another first for me here, so I was pleased to see it, if only briefly. By far the commonest and most numerous birds here currently are cormorants, with a great number of them being dotted around the lower slope of the cliff and more flying back and forth. They are such a feature of the area that I think they merit a post of their own, so they will probably be the subject of my next one.

There is a published list of the ‘special’ plants found growing within the Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve on the Little Orme. Many had finished flowering by the time I arrived here in July, but I have discovered a few of them during the course of my walks. I was pleased to add one more today, the Wild Cabbage. It doesn’t sound too glamorous I know, but it is not a common plant, so its continued presence here is quite important.

Brassica oleracea, or wild cabbage, is a species of Brassica that is mainly native to coastal southern and western Europe. Its tolerance of salt and lime and its intolerance of competition from other plants typically restrict its natural occurrence to limestone sea cliffs.

Wild Cabbage-Brassica oleracea

Wild B. oleracea is a tall biennial plant. In the first year of growth the plant forms a stout rosette of large leaves. The leaves are fleshier and thicker than those of other species of Brassica, which are adaptations made by the plant to store water and nutrients in its difficult growing environment. In its second year, the stored nutrients are used to produce a flower spike 1 to 2 metres (3–7 ft) tall bearing numerous yellow flowers.

The dry, spent flower spikes of a wild cabbage plant. I like the effect of the tracery of bone dry silvery stems against the clear blue sky.

These cliffs are the haunt of corvids; I heard the characteristic deep ‘bark’ calls of Ravens and looked up to see a pair circling the rocky peak. There were one or two Carrion Crows about and quite a few Jackdaws foraging around on the ground.

A glossy black Jackdaw, beak agape

There wasn’t a great deal else to see here today that I have not already mentioned in previous posts, which perversely I was quite glad about: I would hate to think I might be leaving having missed something.

I had walked along the promenade and around the residential streets to get here, so I decided to walk back along the seashore as far as I could, accessing the beach via the steps at the end of a walkway between the houses. This far end of the beach of Penrhyn Bay, sheltered by the cliffs of the Little Orme has a different character to the open stretches leading to Rhos-on-Sea. Some vegetation has become established, nothing wildly exciting, but clumps of flowering Sea Mayweed were attracting quite a few insects.

Drone fly on a flower of Sea Mayweed

The seashore of Rhos-on-Sea consists of rocks in various sizes and first impressions may be of a harsh, barren environment predominantly coloured in shades of brown. It is not the traditional people-friendly playground that most holidaymakers seek; even walking across the uneven rocky surface is a feat of endurance requiring concentration and a good sense of balance lest you stumble and twist an ankle or worse. But the rocks form an essential part of the protective barrier between land and sea, dissipating some of the force of wild winter seas and creating a rich and reasonably undisturbed environment for wildlife.

A view to the Little Orme and Penrhyn Bay across the rocky seashore

The view in the opposite directions to Rhos-on-Sea and beyond

Some of the birds I photographed on my walk today:

A Redshank wading on the sea edge

Curlew investigating his reflection in a rockpool

Turnstone

A Herring Gull preparing to take off from a rock

Lift off. The gull has beautiful wings and they need strength too to be able to lift up that bulky body from a standing start. I think this one may have something wrong with its foot.

I spotted some small birds fly over the sea wall and land on the rocks of the breakwater that I imagine defines the boundary between Penrhyn Bay and Rhos-on-Sea. It was a little party of Linnets that were here to feast on the seeds of the wild plants that manage to grow here.

A little flock of Linnets gathered at the base of the sea wall to feed on flower seeds

Linnet-Carduelis cannabina, in winter plumage with a beak full of seeds

The tide was on its way out, leaving behind freshly exposed rocks covered with gleaming seaweed and a myriad of shallow rock pools. This is such an important habitat for wading birds I felt it would be remiss of me not to include a very brief look at some of the predominant features of this part of the seashore.

Bladder Wrack-Fucus vesiculosus

Brown seaweeds are the most common type of seaweed found on rocky beaches. They normally have a method to strongly attach themselves to rock surfaces.The brown colour of the seaweed is due to the brown pigment fucoxanthin overriding the green pigment chlorophyll. Both pigments are used in the photosynthesis of light, fucoxanthin improving the process when the algae is covered by water.

Toothed Wrack-Fucus serratus, underwater

Small dry clumps of seaweed are a common sight blowing around on many beaches. Also in this pool is some bright green Sea Lettuce-Ulva lactulva

The Limpet's conical shape means there is a large surface area in contact with the rockface. This allows for a large foot, providing limpets with a phenomenal grip, to such an extent that they cannot easily be prised off by hand.Limpets have an important affect on their environment, they keep it clear of algae. If you look in rock pools, often the only algae seen growing is on the ungrazed backs of limpets.

Periwinkles abound here, I think they are the edible variety. Brown leathery straps of seaweed are Oarweed-Laminaria digitata.

Of course, being me, once I started paying proper attention I kept noticing more and more, but I have to leave my self more to discover next time I am here, so that’s it from this seashore for now.


Birds and the art of fly catching

20 Thursday Oct 2011

Posted by in Birds, birds of the seashore, Nature, nature photography

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As I continued my walk behind the rocky sea-break, it occurred to me that if I was finding it hard going walking against the strong wind,then the small birds I was hoping to see may be finding it even harder and may not be there today. Fortunately I was underestimating the powerful draw that an abundant supply of food is to hungry intelligent and opportunistic birds.The reason the Rock Pipits and the Pied Wagtails, (both species members of the motacillidae family) gather in this small area, more-or-less at the spot where Rhos-on-Sea becomes Penrhyn Bay is not pretty. A sewer outlet, that I was informed serves the village of Mochdre, runs beneath the sea wall and out into the sea here, and for some reason I do not really want to ponder too much, large numbers of flies swarm around the sea wall here. The flies are quite sizeable and it was quite unpleasant walking through the midst of a crowd of them, but the opportunity they presented to watch some beautiful birds in action was well worth a bit discomfort.

Rock Pipit-Anthus petrosus

I sat down close to where the main fly-catching action was taking place hoping the birds would not feel too threatened by the presence of me and my long camera lens. At first both Pipits, of which there were 2,  and the more numerous Wagtails did fly off, but only to a very short distance away and they returned to resume their feasting very quickly, elegantly pursuing their prey along the top of the sea wall then darting across to the rocks and back again. Their speed and acrobatic turns were impressive and highly entertaining, mostly too quick for my manually-focused lens, but wonderful to observe.

Rock pipit – Anthus petrosus

Family: Motacillidae

Scientific name from: Gr.: anthos=a small grassland bird described by Aristotle and Gr.: petros=a rock

Rock Pipit-Anthus petrosus

A coastal bird with a preference for rugged coastlines, Rock Pipits are easy to miss as their inconspicuous plumage shaded in greys, olives and buffs blends readily with the seaweed as they search for food amongst the boulders. It is larger and darker than its close relative, the meadow pipits and has a more heavily-streaked breast and dark olive-brown upper parts. In flight the dark-coloured legs and orange soles of the feet may be seen.

The Rock Pipit can be identified by grey outer tail feathers (white in Meadow Pipit) and by its alarm call - a thin 'phist'

The Rock Pipit is very strongly linked to rocky shores and usually nests in rather inaccessible sites on cliffs and among boulders of sheltered coves and gullies. During the winter months however, it sometimes deserts the high cliffs and may be seen on flat sandy coastlines and inland at sewage farms, floodlands and the borders of reservoirs.

Rock Pipit chasing flies across seaweed covered rocks

Their food includes a large proportion of marine animals, such as sandhoppers, small worms and marine molluscs.

Rock Pipits live partly on insects living in rotting seaweed, such as kelp flies. It also eats seashore plant food. This one was on the beach around Rhos harbour.

 Pied Wagtail – Motacilla alba yarrellii

Scientific name from:  Greek: muttex a bird described by Hesychius and Latin: albus=white

Family: Motacillidae

Once regarded as a species in its own right, the pied wagtail is now regarded by ornithologists as a race of the white wagtail of mainland Europe and Asia. The white wagtail may be seen on migration; it has paler grey upper parts and there is no join between the black cap and bib.

Increased numbers of Pied Wagtails have been a regular sight across the area for some weeks now. Small parties of them, which as they are mixed adults and juveniles could be families, can often be spotted foraging on the seashore amongst the vegetation and dry seaweed.

Pied Wagtail on the beach - black cap and bib merge together

Pied Wagtails really live up to their name, with black upper parts, throat and breast contrasts sharply with a white forehead, face and chest and long black tails that are in constant motion. Females show a lesser degree of contrast and have less black on their heads and a slate-grey back.

Juveniles are brownish-grey above, dusty below, with black crescent-shaped breast-band

Probably a more-developed juvenile, this bird still lacks the black throat of the adult

Overhead the Pied Wagtail’s call is as distinctive as their undulating, looping flight – a few flaps followed by a descending glide that is accompanied constantly by the ‘tschizzuck’ flight call.

In the early evenings I have seen them gathering on the lawns lining the streets that back onto the Little Orme. Pied Wagtails roost communally during the winter, often in great numbers, meeting up in the same place every evening before taking off together to roost for the night. Roosts may be in a reedbed, a copse or even in a built-up area.

Between the rocks and the sea wall

19 Wednesday Oct 2011

Posted by in Nature, nature photography

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On days when the wind blows in strongly from the north-east, blustering across the Irish Sea and whipping up the waves into foamy ‘sea-horses’, strolling along the promenade can be challenging and I have to admit, not that pleasant. On such a day I was heading towards Penrhyn Bay hoping to catch sight of Rock Pipits and to photograph Pied Wagtails, both of which I had seen recently on and around the sea wall there. The strength of the wind took me by surprise and if I had gone out with the sole purpose of taking an enjoyable walk I may well have reviewed my plans and set off elsewhere, but as I’d never seen Rock Pipits elsewhere, I was keen to see some.

Fortunately there is an alternative walk-way that was created when the original sea wall was constructed: a ledge, about 3′ (1m) wide was created on the wall’s seaward side placed about half-way up its height. In the 1980’s further protection from the wild winter seas was required and the breakwater, consisting of an immense pile of enormous rocks was piled in front of the wall. The rock pile rises higher than the walkway ledge, thus creating a sheltered passageway between the two structures. There is no view from there, the dark seawall encloses one side and the length of the summit of the rock pile the other, so other than for shelter from the wind I would not normally choose to walk this way.

A length of the rock breakwater running from Rhos-on-Sea to Penrhyn Bay in front of the sea wall

The piling of large rocks, also known as riprap, at the base of vertical Edwardian and Victorian sea walls is frequently used as a secondary defence mechanism to prevent them being undermined. Riprap works by absorbing and deflecting the impact of waves before they reach the defended structure. The size and mass of the riprap material absorbs the impact energy of waves, while the gaps between the rocks trap and slow the flow of water, lessening its ability to erode soil or structures on the coast. 

As I walked along, wondering where the vast amount of rock had been taken from, I began to see this confined, shaded and slightly claustrophobic space in a different way. I was drawn to individual rocks that had interesting surface patterns, crystals or layers of other types of rock or minerals and wished I knew what they were. I recognised too that a micro-climate exists here that is helping to create a habitat for an interesting number of plant species from vascular plants to mosses and lichens.

Limestone rock with a tracery of worm-like squiggles and touches of pink colouration. The pink stuff may be a lichen.

The rocks themselves are predominantly locally-occurring limestone and it is humbling to reflect on the fact that eons ago they would have been forming the sea-bed and now carry evidence to ancient life forms.

The beautiful crystals in this picture may be dolomite or perhaps quartz and the purple may be fluorite.

An interesting crystal-like deposit

A ribbon of mineral(s) marks this rock

A macro view of a patch of a Xanthoria sp of algae

A yellow-coloured species of algae

Cushions of moss

Plants have begun to colonise some of the spaces between the rocks and somehow manage to grow at the base of the rocks where they make contact with the sea wall.

A fern squeezing out from between two rocks

Ivy-leaved Toadflax - Cymbalaria muralis

An enlarged view of the delightful little flower and leaves of the Ivy-leaved toadflax

A tiny flower, enlarged, that I think may be English stonecrop-Sedum anglicum. The spiky leaves in the background are of a separate plant, quite possibly Thrift.

Red Valerian is an intrepid and highly successful uninvited coloniser that originates from the Mediterranean region

Red valerian has very pretty flowers that here were attracting several small moth-like insects that I think may have been Owl Midges.

Growing up between the rocks and the sea wall, I have yet to identify this plant

As they frequently do, my walk turned out to be unexpectedly interesting and I did get to see my Rock Pipits, which will be featured in my next post that will be following very shortly.