Little Orme

21 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by theresagreen in birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Industrial sites reclaimed by Nature, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, North Wales, North Wales Path, Wales Coast Path, Walking Trails, Wildflowers of Wales

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Cormorant, Cormorant breeding plumage, cormorant with white head, fulmar, Great cormorant, grey seals, Northern Wheatear, phalocrocorax carbo, shag

April 5th

I’m home for a few days and feel the need to catch up on what’s happening here before setting off again at the weekend. I decided to head for the Little Orme, the best place I know locally to see a great variety of wildlife in a short space of time. Spring is generally late arriving this year and usually comes even later here than to other more sheltered sites, so I hoped I wouldn’t have missed too much.

The blend of habits on this limestone headland make it special, if not unique as it provides for the needs of diverse species of birds from House sparrows to Chough and Fulmars and it supports some lovely lime-loving wildflowers. The human influence on the site is most evident in its dramatic reshaping by quarrying, there is also a farm with some enclosed fields and sheep that are allowed to range freely. Houses butt closely up against its Penrhyn Bay boundary and it is rare to come here and not see people out walking. Today I noticed that someone has hung a bird-feeder up in a small tree just inside the site. There was a Great tit and several House sparrows taking the seed on offer, but not surprisingly they were seen off by Jackdaws.

Great tit at feeder

Jackdaw at feeder

It’s the Easter holidays, so as I’d expected there were a good few people here, families enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, the usual dog-walkers and a few dog-less ones too.

There were people clambering on the rock beside Angel Bay. Below them a trio of Herring gulls set up a raucous racket. I couldn’t be sure what had set them off, but maybe they were objecting to people invading their space.

On a rock jutting out into Angel Bay another pair sat calmly, heads turned towards the group of grey seals down below them, some of which were also making a bit of noise.

They were a lovely little group of adults with their young ones. Some were trying their best to relax while others were restlessly in and out of the water. At least two more were swimming around out in the bay.

Grey seals

Grey seals slumbering

A single Guillemot was also cruising around on the water but didn’t stay visible for long, soon diving and swimming away underwater hunting fish.

Guillemot

When I first entered the site I was surprised not to see or hear Fulmars on the high cliff that usually has several pairs nesting, or preparing to nest on its ledges by this time. There were one or two flying around the cliffs nearer to the sea though, so I set off up the steep path to the old quarry field to see if there were signs of nesting there.

Fulmars are distinctive in flight holding wings stiff and straight out

I’m sure this upward slope gets steeper each time I climb it! I have to remind myself it wasn’t built for walking up. Back in the days when quarrying was in full swing there were rails from its bottom end up to what was a quarry face; trucks were loaded with stone then lowered down and returned empty using heavy-duty winding gear – the remains of which still stands as a monument to past industry at the top of the track. Care is needed when using this track, it’s slippery when wet and dry, especially going down.

Steep slope of old quarry truck-run

Remains of old quarry truck winding gear

I was pleased to have a few excuses to stop for breath to photograph celandines and primroses nestled down amongst the dead stems of grass and fronds of bracken. There were daisies on the grassy slopes nearer the top, one with a fly sunbathing in its centre.

Lesser celandine-

Primrose-

Daisy with fly

Common daisy-bellis perennis

One of the limestone specialist plants, the Carline thistle still holds it shape perfectly, seedheads still intact, although it is completely dry and colourless.

Phew! Finally at the top. I walked around the cliff edge, not too close as I could see that the winter weather has further eroded away the softer layers of soil and loose stone that covers the bedrock.

Signs of recent erosion

Two Fulmars sat quietly in a sheltered recess in the cliff-face. I’m fairly sure they were a pair as they were sitting close together and occasionally touching one another, I’m loathe to say affectionately, but it did look that way!

Fulmars

Fulmars are noisy birds though and it wasn’t long before something set them off. I imagine their spot is a good one and probably coveted by others, so will take a fair amount of defending.

They have a visitor who clings onto the rock nearby and stays for a while despite being squawked at. Perhaps the noise was by way of a greeting.

I was surprised it managed to cling on with those flat webbed feet. It was a lovely view for me though, they are such pretty gulls to look at. Shame about the raucous voice and the habit of snorting out salt water and other debris down their tubular noses!

Another bird made several close aerial passes but didn’t stop. I left them to it; seems like they’ve got enough to contend with.

I take the ‘short-cut’ scramble up the rocks to reach the higher level of the cliffs: not the recommended route, especially for grandmothers encumbered with cameras in hand that should know better! I got there unscathed though and enjoyed a good view back down onto the quarry from the top.

View down into the former quarry

I was heading for the outcrops of the headland used as nest sites by the Cormorant and Guillemot colonies, although I suspected I may be a bit early. I like the view over to the Great Orme from here; it looks like an island.

TREASURE IN THE GRASS

Although grazed by sheep and rabbits and exposed to the worst of the elements here, wildflowers can be found tucked down in the turf particularly around exposed rock. I spotted this little patch of white flowers, which on closer inspection turned out to be two different species. I couldn’t name either, but very kindly Suzanne posted a comment and suggested the tiny one with red-tinged fleshy leaves may be Rue-leaved saxifrage and the bigger more droopy one with fine stems as Common Whitlow grass. I will go back and get some better photographs of the little treasures.

Common Whitlow grass-Erophila verna

I disturbed a flock of Jackdays that had been foraging in the clifftop grass. In my picture the buildings on the top of the hill in the background are on the Great Orme Summit.

Looking over the edge of the cliff for signs of my target birds I saw what I thought were Cormorants until I saw the raised crest of one and realised they were Shags.They were far below me, so the quality of the image is not great, but you can see what they are from it.

There were no signs of either Cormorants or Guillemots on this side of the cliff so I carried on walking towards its other more easily visible side. I hadn’t gone far when I spotted a bird flitting about between rocks near the edge; a handsome male Northern Wheatear. It was slightly below me behind a bit of a ridge, so partly hidden from its view I managed to watch it for some time with out disturbing it.

Northern Wheatear

CORMORANT COLONY

As I’d thought it was a bit early for the Cormorants to have begun nesting, but there were a a few birds hanging around on the cliff.

Two birds higher up on a ledge definitely have their breeding plumage – the white patches on their thighs is clearly visible. They also have white heads which is more unusual amongst the Cormorants we usually see here. They were adopting some strange poses too, but may just have been making the most of a warm spot.

Cormorant or Great Cormorant- Phalocrocorax carbo

I went back down the hill following the paths to complete the circuit of this side of the headland. I realised I hadn’t met a single sheep out on the cliffs when I saw the first ones with lambs still in the field.

The gorse is coming into full golden bloom now and as always I couldn’t resist stopping several times to inhale its gorgeous uplifting scent.

I heard a Robin singing and did spied him framed by prickly branches.

Picking my way carefully down the rocky slope past the sheep field I heard a Greenfinch singing from within the tangle of shrubby vegetation. Tauntingly close by, I stood and searched for a while but couldn’t pinpoint him. It was good to hear him though; as I said in the most recent post about the Great Orme, Greenfinches are not that common nowadays.

The hawthorn tree that marks the junction of paths going up, down or on towards the Rhiwleddyn Reserve, is still without leaves but green with lichen. It’s a lovely tree, having a perfect full rounded shape and spreading evenly in all directions; unusual here where the hawthorns are mostly forced into some weird and wonderful shapes by exposure to the strong winds.

The slope going down safely negotiated, I walked towards the way out, stopping only to debate whether to walk through the man-made ‘gorge’ that leads through to another way in/out at its far end. It can be a good place to spot Stonechats, which I hadn’t seen today, but there were quite a few big puddles of water and it looked muddy, so I gave it a miss.

Looking down into the ‘gorge’ from the path above, I stopped to listen to a Blackbird singing from a small ash tree growing down there. They have such a wonderful laid-back, tuneful and fluent song that is so easy on the ear.

Several Jackdaws were more intent on foraging for their supper.

A rotund little Dunnock singing his pretty little song from amongst the tangle of bramble stems at the side of the steps finished off my walk perfectly.

Dunnock

Weather: Sunny but cool

Birds: Herring gull; Fulmar; Guillemot; Cormorant; Shag; Carrion crow; Magpie; Wood pigeon; Jackdaw; Blackbird; Robin; Greenfinch (singing); House sparrow; Dunnock; Great tit; Wren; Northern Wheatear

Insects: Very few; too cold for butterflies

Wildflowers: Alexanders; Gorse; Primrose; Common Daisy; Lesser celandine; Carline thistle (dried); Common Whitlow grass

The Windhover

09 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

falco tinnunculus, kestrel

September 15th – Little Orme – Angel Bay

15:00 – Walking towards Angel Bay, it was sunny and eye-squintingly bright but as always of late it felt cool as there was a strong wind blowing in off the sea. Heading for the cliff edge to see if there were any seals about, I was distracted by the sight of a Kestrel hovering almost motionlessly at the edge of the cliff peering intently down. I have had some of my best views of these charismatic little falcons here on the Little Orme, but it’s not every day that you’re graced with such a close presence of one that was clearly totally absorbed in hunting mode and seemingly oblivious to the small audience gathered beneath it.

As I got closer the bird swooped away to land on the rocky cliff to the right of the bay. I tried to get some shots of the landed Kestrel, failing to get the images I’d have liked as I was distracted by a lady asking if I would use my zoom lens to check out the details of a far distant ship! If only I was better at saying no! I did see that the bird had a chestnut head though, which is the colouration of females of the species; males have a blueish-grey head.

Fortunately it didn’t fly far away, just headed for the other side of the bay, now mostly in shade. It suddenly looked small and fragile against the bulk of the cliff, but despite being buffeted by the strong wind it held its position, hardly moving.

Another brief landing then it rose again into the air, hovering in front of us at not much more than eye-level. Perfectly beautiful and an amazing opportunity to see the bird from all angles.

The bird dropped down slightly, showing off the lovely rich chestnut-brown plumage of its back. A similar shade beginning to colour its tail feathers further confirmed this was a female, a young one I think. Young males also have a chestnut head but grey tails and adult males then have both a grey head and tail. Females are slightly larger than males.

Common English name: Kestrel, Common kestrel Scientific name: Falco tinnunculus Welsh: Cudyll coch Local and other names: Windhover, Hoverhawk, Standgale, Creshawk.

The scientific name is taken from the Latin falco = falcom, which translates as sickle, referring to the birds’ hooked talons and the Latin tinnulus, which translates as shrill-sounding. The old country names Windhover, Hoverhawk & Standgale all acknowledge the birds’ unsurpassed mastery of the hovering technique.

The next image is not sharply focussed but I love the way the bird is looking back over her shoulder as if to check if we were all still watching.

HUNTING AND HOVERING TECHNIQUE

A hunting Kestrel typically flies along until it either spots prey or a spot where it is likely to find something. It pauses, then hovers with deeper wing-beats and tail fanned out and pointing downwards for stability; they always keep their head into the wind when hovering. For a few moments the bird remains perfectly motionless in mid-air except for the rapid vibration of its wings. It may then shift its position by a few metres and hovers again, intently scanning every centimetre of the ground below for the slightest movement that may give away the presence of a small rodent; little escapes its telescopic vision. Once prey is detected the bird drops down in stages before making a final pounce and grasping its target with its talons.

During the course of my watching the Kestrel was harassed several times by Jackdaws attempting to drive it away and even by a pair of larger Crows, but she was undeterred and held her position, barely flinching.

CONSERVATION STATUS

Apart from the Game Laws, no measure for the protection of wild birds in Britain existed before the year 1880. Prior to this date, gamekeepers and farmers were responsible for destroying all kinds of birds they suspected as being injurious in any way. Kestrels, along with Barn Owls and Tawny Owls, all of which would have been doing far more good than harm in their controlling of rodents, were accused of taking young Pheasants and therefore on the ‘hit list’ in areas where game birds were reared.

Even twenty years ago the sight of a Kestrel hovering over a motorway verge used to be a fairly common sight, but sadly not so much these days. Drops in Kestrel population figures caused concern in the late 1950s and 1960s when they were reduced to low numbers: changes in farming practices are believed to have been the primary cause. Their numbers have subsequently recovered somewhat and according to the British Trust for Ornithology(BTO), the Conservation Status of the Kestrel in Britain is now Amber and their breeding population is currently estimated at 45,000 breeding pairs. Across the rest of Europe numbers are greater and generally the Kestrel population is currently of ‘Least Concern’.

Kestrels are to some extent migratory. Other than during the breeding season they move from one part of the country to another, and large numbers cross from our southern coasts to Europe and beyond during the winter to be replaced by others that come here from farther north. Despite being a protected species, Kestrels are as vulnerable as any other species of bird on migration that passes over countries still permitted to shoot certain wild birds. As recently as 2015, the hunting season in Malta was brought to an end three days early when a man shot dead a Kestrel.

Maybe the one I watched was here feeding up to make such a journey herself, in which case I wish her safe passage and a safe return next Spring.

A Warbling Whitethroat

23 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by theresagreen in birds singing, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

birds singing, Llwydfron, sylvia communis, whitethroat

I saved this treat from the end of my walk on the Little Orme as I thought it would be better enjoyed on its own.

I heard the Whitethroat singing from somewhere in front of me, obscured from immediate view by gorse bushes and a bend in the track. I walked forward slowly and there he was, at the top of another bare stem, this time of Elder. A perfect, close, unrestricted view of him warbling away, declaring himself king of all he could survey, which is a great deal from where he was perched, to whom-so-ever it may concern.

The Whitethroat is a summer visitor and passage migrant to Britain that may be seen in all parts of the country and most frequently choose arable land, scrub and reedbeds as nesting sites. They arrive during April-May and leaving in late September-early October to winter in Africa, some heading as far south as South Africa.

Whitethroat- Sylvia communis Welsh: Llwydfron

A medium-sized, long-tailed warbler, the male is grey, dusted with rust brown above, with bright chestnut-brown fringes to the wing feathers, the head is a pale grey, the breast pinkish-buff and the throat a bright white. The bill is greyish-brown and the legs are pale brown. The eye is pale brown with a white eye ring. Females are similar but brown on the head and nape where the male is grey.

Whitethroat singing

Warblers in general are often described as ‘skulking’, but the Whitethroat is not quite as secretive as some; the male will perch in full view to deliver its brief song with gusto.

I could see flies in the air around him, but he made no attempt to catch any of them, he was far more intent on singing although he did take a few short breaks to do a bit of preening. I think he had a bit of an itch.

I watched and listened for some time and took a few photographs before risking taking this short video, which is not the most professional you’ll have ever seen, but it gives more of the bird’s personality than a still. It’s better on full screen too.

The song is variously described as sweet, ‘scratchy’ and having a jolty rhythm. They are also very inquisitive birds and will venture to the top of a bush to investigate any intruders, before scolding them with a rapid churring call.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. You even got to share the atmosphere of the sunny, windy day!

Little Orme Level 2 and Higher

23 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by theresagreen in bird's nests, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal wildflowers, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wildflowers of Wales, wildflowers on limestone

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

bird's nests, Cormorant, cormorant colony, cormorants nesting, guillemot, moon daisy, ox-eye daisy, sea campion, swollen-thighed beetle, yellow dung fly

Cormorants flying overhead refocussed my attention and I began the climb up the steep slope to the next level of the cliff.

I didn’t get far before stopping to watch the Whitethroat I had been heading for pre-Chough. He was singing from an old bramble stem close by and was nicely visible apart from being seemingly garotted by a twiggy branch. Song done, he flew across the track into the base of a huge bramble shortly followed in by his mate coming from the other direction, carrying food in her beak. So this is where they are nesting, no doubt tucked low down in the protective thorny thicket.

About half-way up I welcomed the excuse to pause, granted by the sight of another Swollen-thighed Beetle, this time a male sporting a splendid pair of said swollen thighs.

At the top is a reminder that the slope’s purpose was not originally as a walking track. Here stand the remains of supports and cogs for winding gear, once employed to steady trucks full of quarried stone on tracks down the steep slope, then to haul back empty ones.

TGLOVW-Winding gear remains at top of slope

This quarry face accommodates many nesting pairs of Jackdaws, whose cries often echo loudly around the bare stone cliffs. They were quiet today, the only sound made by a sheep bleating from the edge of the wall towering above. Clearly a mother, she may have been calling for her young one; I hoped he hadn’t been hauled off to market to end up as Welsh Spring Lamb in a butcher’s shop.

I took a very quick look at nesting Fulmars, didn’t want to disturb them so stayed well back.

Attractive birds with an elegant stiff-winged flight, it’s hard to believe they produce such a loud, rather harsh cry and that their tube-like nostrils are designed to allow them, inelegantly, to snort out salty water.

From up here you can look down on the flat quarried-out ‘Level 1’ of the site, with the cove of Angel Bay at its edge. The dry grassed areas are already showing signs of wear and tear.

Onwards and upwards, following the track that is both on the routes of the North Wales Coastal Path and the national Wales Coast Path. It is heavily eroded in parts, and bridged by gnarled old roots, (or branches?) of gorse.

Ravens had made me aware of their presence since arriving here today, being more mobile and noisier than usual and as I ambled along this part of the track an outburst of their calls broke out from somewhere ahead of me. I had just seen birds harrassing what I assumed to be a Buzzard and thought that may have escalated into a bit more of an incident. Getting closer I saw three birds having a bit of a to-do; two of them seemed to be attacking a third that was sitting atop a fence. Not a Buzzard.

I was still too far away to see properly, but this may have been a pair of Raven upset with an intruding one. Does it have something in its beak in the first picture, an egg maybe? I have no idea but they took off from here and continued to express their annoyance from the field below for some time.

None the wiser as to what I’d witnessed I carried on, scanning the track ahead of me, as I am wont to do at this time of year, checking for sheep poo; you never know when there may be something interesting dining out thereon. I got lucky, a fairly fresh deposit yielded a little male Yellow Dung-fly. In an awkward spot to photograph, I had no option than to kneel down in front of the dung, then almost had my nose in it to get him in close up without using the lens zoom, quietly hoping no-one came along the path to witness my odd behaviour. It was worth it; I realised he hadn’t flown off as he was otherwise occupied with a lady Dung-fly. Females are far fewer in number than males, so there was no chance he was leaving, whatever I was doing.

Yellow Dung-fly pair mating

Same image but bigger

THE CORMORANT COLONY

Reputedly the largest Cormorant breeding colony in the British Isles, this is an impressive sight, even from this distance and this is only a part of it; it continues around to the other side of the rocky outcrop in the photograph below, where there are even more of them.

I’ve shown this aspect of the Cormorant colony several times before, but this is the first time I’ve visited it at the right time to catch the birds on their nests. I was thrilled to get a glimpse of young birds in some of the nests; Cormorants usually lay 2-3 eggs, and from those I could see most seem to have hatched and grown successfully, so there must be plenty of food available locally to keep offspring and parents well fed.

Some of the young birds seemed a bit more advanced than others and were already out of the nest exercising their wings, but many birds were still sitting.

The bulk of the colony is not as easy to see, and viewing the birds involves a bit of rambling up and down the uneven cliff top, then peering down from cliff edge, but it is well worth the effort. The photograph below shows the colony to be situated well out of reach of nosy people.

Around the rock I was now upwind of the birds, so as well as amazing sights and sounds I was greeted with the equally amazing smell produced by a large number of fish-eating birds confined to a relatively small space. I wish I could share it with you!

But pungent aromas aside,the colony on this side holds another treat; right in its centre is another smaller colony – of smart little penguin-like Guillemots. Surrounded by the much bigger Cormorants I imagine it is a safe haven for them from potential predators such as gulls and the Cormorants seem perfectly accepting of them.

Cormorants and Guillemots sharing fishing space on the rocks below. There were many more birds of both species flying back and forth and hunting and diving in the water too. Cormorants stay separate but Guillemots often join together in ‘rafts’ floating on the surface of the sea.

These two birds, who I fancied were enjoying some fresher air away from the colony, is my favourite Cormorant image from the day. The birds weren’t making a sound; they gape their beaks as a means of cooling down their bodies, but it seems like they’re commenting on something out at sea. Possibly the ever-encroaching turbines of the wind farm, or maybe they were sureying for likely fishing spots.

It was a sunny day with some cloud and really strongly windy, particularly noticeable up here at the top of the headland on its sea-facing edge, but the elements’ combined effects on the water was breathtaking. I sat for some time watching the ever-changing patterns of light and shade on the surface of the blue sea as the wind rippled across its surface and clouds cast shadows above it. It really was the colour of the photograph below and quite mesmerising.

View from the Little Orme across Llandudno Bay to the Great Orme

Birds flew past the cliff at eye level; mostly Herring Gulls, but one Greater Black-backed gull too, and a Raven gronked a greeting as he passed by; all strong birds gliding effortlessly on the wind and thermals created by the cliff face. A Rock pipit popped up over the edge briefly but popped down again when he spotted me. A Jackdaw also appeared over a ridge, but disregarded me completely and carried on foraging within touching distance, even posing for a portrait.

THE CLIFFTOP

Returning to the main track I passed a ewe and her lambs who had found a shady and sheltered place to rest with her lambs.

I watched a 7-spot ladybird scrambling through the mossy turf. Grazed by sheep and rabbits, baked by the sun and exposed regularly to strong, salt-laden winds anything that survives here has to be tough, especially the flora. Amongst the toughest of our native flora are the thistles, the two most common species of which thrive here.

The Creeping thistle has already begun flowering and even up here was being visited by bumblebees and a wind-blown Red Admiral butterfly.

The other is the fierce-looking Spear thistle with its aptly-named long sharp spikes protecting its every part, which has flower buds almost on the point of opening now.

170527-TGLOFW-Spear thistle fierce leaves

On the ledge beneath an overhanging rocky outcrop I was surprised to spot a clump of white-flowered plants. Getting closer I saw they were Sea campion and also Moon (Ox-eye) daisies with one of the best specimens of Salad burnet I’ve seen anywhere so far this Spring. I wonder how they got there?

Sea campion – Silene maritima

Going back down I took a photograph to remind me to say that although fading fast there is still gorse in flower and also hawthorn, but the main blossom plant now is the creamy white elder.

And another to remind myself that I can never tired of looking at this view across Penrhyn and Colwyn Bays, even when on hot days like this one much of the distance is lost in a haze.

Little Orme Level 1

12 Monday Jun 2017

Posted by theresagreen in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, calcareous grassland, coastal walks, coastal wildflowers, Little Orme, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

chough, Cormorant, jackdaw, nomad bees, Nomada goodeniana, raven

May 27th

The Little Orme was physically scarred and shaped by human demands and quarrying activities during the first half of the last century. Subsequently handed back to nature and a testiment to its incredible ability to regenerate, an interlocking patchwork of habitats packed into a compact space on varying levels have become a haven for a diversity of wildlife, particularly wildflowers, birds and insects. Now in part a Local Nature Reserve with areas set aside as SSSIs, its wildlife may again be under pressure as the headland is an increasingly popular recreational area for local people and visitors and is also crossed by walkers following the Wales Coastal Path or the North Wales Coast Path.

I was here today with the intention of taking some photographs of the Cormorant colony in mind. The birds are well into their breeding season now and have well-grown offspring in their nests and I wanted to catch them there before they fledged. I thought I was focussed on the job in hand, but as anyone that has ever been out walking with me would have guessed, it took less than two minutes for me to be distracted from my mission; firstly by a Harlequin ladybird guzzling aphids on the going-to-seed Alexanders, then by a lovely shiny metallic green female Swollen-thighed Beetle – Oedemera nobilis, who confusingly doesn’t have Swollen thighs at all, it’s the males that sport them as emblems of their maleness, the thicker the better in their bid to secure mates. She was perfectly displayed in the cup of a perfect dog rose, like a little jewel.

Harlequin ladybird on Alexanders

Thick-thighed beetle (f)

The cliff path along to Angel Bay took a while to negotiate too. Its sea edge is lined with masses of Red Valerian in all of its shades from deep carmine through pinks to white and it looks lovely.

I know it’s not a native and crops up anywhere and everywhere, but here it doesn’t look out of place and it is great for insects like the Painted Lady I found nectaring there.

Painted Lady on red valerian

Small White (f) on valerian leaves

Buff-tailed bumblebee on valerian

There are native wildflowers on this cliff edge too, including some good sized patches of Wild Thyme and the pretty pale lemon-yellow Mouse-ear which has colonised a large patch of the crumbly downslope of the cliff.

Wild thyme

Mouse-ear Hawkweed

There’s a lot of Horsetail here too, I’m not sure of the species. It also cascades down the cliff where it looks a bit like a new plantation of tiny Christmas trees. A bit further in from the edge was a large patch of what I thought was Ground Ivy, but am now not sure about; very short-stemmed here on the dry exposed cliff and a mass of purple flowers, I will go back and check.

Horsetail

Ground Ivy

The Little Orme is the place to visit if you love your Corvids as I do. Ravens, Crows, Magpies, Jackdaws and occasionally Chough are all here. Seeing or even hearing ravens early on in a visit here always sets the mood for me, reminding me that despite the fact that this is now a place much used for recreation by people and their pets, it is still clinging on as a wild habitat. A pair flew overhead, ‘gronking’ as they did so and landed high up on the edge of the cliff, in the centre of the image above, one of their habitual lookouts for surveying their Kingdom.

Next a Magpie caught my attention as it landed on a bramble patch on the cliff edge, leaving quickly with an insect in its beak.

Then Jackdaws, great numbers of them nest in close colonies on the quarried-out cliff faces. Once breeding is over they disperse during the day, although plenty stay and forage around the grassy clifftops and it’s a safe haven to head back to and roost at night.

Jackdaw amongst bird’s-foot trefoil

At the sea end of this first flat level there’s a little bit of original rock remaining, separating Angel Bay from Penrhyn Bay and forming one side of the little cove that is the haven of the Grey Seals often mentioned in my posts. The sea-facing ledge behind said rock can be a good place to look out for birds at sea, especially in the autumn and winter, but today it was bees I found there. I have to admit I thought they were wasps as there were several that were flying around, and once or twice, in and out of holes made by mining bees. A quick check with the wise ones at BWARS (Bee,Wasp & Ant Recording Society) though, told me they are nomad bees, Nomada goodeniana, that seek out other bee’s nests in which to lay their eggs. They are apparently quite a common species, but a first for me.

Nomada goodeniana

A local speciality (botanically that is, not on menus!), Wild cabbage grows here, there have been bluebells on the cliff slopes and I spotted the bees as I stopped to photograph a pretty Bloody Cranesbill flower.

Wild cabbage

Bloody Cranesbill

Looking out over the cove, there were just a couple of seals in the water and a sizeable gang of cormorants perched up at the sea end of the headland.

The sight of those Cormorants spurred me on to get back on track towards their nesting site. But first a stop to admire the Thrift, perhaps my favourite coastal wildflower which despite all the hazards is thriving here.

I am finally almost at the bottom of the steep slope up to the next level of the old quarry. I was following the sound of a Whitethroat singing when from close by a black bird took off and flew away from me back in the direction of the site entrance. Something in its gis made me watch carefully to see where it would land; its upturned wingtips showed this wasn’t a crow or a jackdaw and then that distinctive call confirmed I was chasing a Chough.

Chough fly with upturned wing tips

It landed a short distance away and set about digging in the short turfy ground in pursuit of food with its long curved bill. It was a ringed bird, banded on both legs, but perhaps not quite an adult as its beak was a dark orange colour rather than the bright red of a mature adult.

Chough eat worms, caterpillars, ants and are particularly partial to the larvae of dung beetles

The bird had picked a productive spot and was so settled into its feeding it took no notice of me sitting watching it from a conveniently sited bench. But foraging close to the junction of two of the main tracks across the clifftop it was inevitable that it would be disturbed sooner rather than later, and so it was, taking off and flying off over the sea and around the headland. That was definitely my best ever Chough encounter here in North Wales; certainly the closest. And I would have missed it if it wasn’t for my slow- walking meandering habit.

Next Level of this trail to follow shortly…. there will be Cormorants!

Sights & Sounds of the Little Orme (2)

08 Wednesday Feb 2017

Posted by theresagreen in birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Llandudno, Nature, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

common buzzard, disease in wild rabbits, hawthorn, jackdaws on cliff, kestrel, mobbing of buzzards, Myxomatosis, rabbit, raven

January 20th – Little Orme – Upper reaches

I‘d spent longer watching the seals than I had intended, so almost talked myself out of doing some proper walking and heading up to the summit. It was cold, the sun was already sinking lower in the sky and I knew the upward tracks were going to be muddy. But one of my aims for this outing had been to check to see whether or not the cormorants had begun nesting yet, so onwards and upwards it was.

At the bottom of the steep upward slope, Rabbit Hill to locals, a bird sat perfectly still at the top of a smallish ash tree. The sun in my eyes was so bright I could only see it as a black shape, so made another assumption that as this is about the highest point on this windswept clifftop and a favoured perch for crows, magpies and jackdaws, that it was a corvid. Only when I lightened up the photograph I took did I realise it had been a Kestrel.

The bracken and brambles that covered the slope to the landward side of the track have been cut back hard; this vegetation provides cover for a variety of small birds, including resident Stonechats and Whitethroats that come here for the breeding season. I’m sure it will have grown up again by the time they arrive.

I was right about the mud! It was almost take one step forward and slide back two. I pictured my walking pole lying uselessly in the boot of my car. I should use it more often, but it gets in the way when I want to stop and take a photograph. I took a breather to turn and photograph the view; no matter the number of times I have done it, it’s just so amazing I can’t resist. The spit of land projecting finger-like into the sea is Rhos Point and despite the hefty sea defences I know it has in place, it looks so vulnerable from here, perhaps more so to me because it’s where my daughter and her family lives and I can pick their house out from here!

At the top of the slippery slope is a levelled area where much of the stone was quarried out. The cliff wall at the back of this now grassy area is Jackdaw city, with many pairs of birds nesting in its nooks and crannies. You realise how many of them there are when the Buzzards glide into the airspace above and numbers of them suddenly zoom up and surround them, determinedly driving it away while making a heck of a racket.

(click on image to enlarge)

Herring gulls often join in the mobbing party too; it may seem that they prefer roofs and chimneys to nest on, but some do prefer the more traditional option of a bit of cliff. It’s interesting that although they may rob other birds of their eggs and chicks, they’ll join forces to drive off any potential predators of theirs. It’s not too clear from my photograph who’s who, but one Buzzard is very slightly left of centre and the other approaching the far left, with defending birds approaching mainly from the right. Poor old Buzzards, every other bird picks on them, even much smaller Starlings!

The edge of the cliff is crumbly and eroding but is a favourite spot for Jackdaws to sit and look down on the lower levels of the headland. There were several pairs sitting doing just that this afternoon, probably ones with nest sites nearby on the cliffs of the lower level.

I took a photograph looking down into Angel Bay from up here; it looked as though quite a number had moved off.

One of my favourite sights is golden gorse flowering against the background of a blue sea.

It’s always sad when a tree dies, but the skeleton of this Elder is now beautifully adorned with lichens and a fungus, which I’m sure is now past its peak. I’m not great on fungi, but I do know the one most closely associated with the Elder is Jew’s ear or jelly ear Auricularia auricular-judae; is it that Annie? I wish I’d seen it earlier.

The grass up here is grazed by sheep and further nibbled by rabbits, so is always neat and well-groomed. The path curves into this small clearing that looks almost like a cleverly landscaped wild garden designed to lead you to the stunning vista.

click on image to enlarge

The nearest rounded hill is Bryn Euryn which I’ve walked you around many times and shown views from there to here, but you can see they would be a fairly short flight away from one another for Buzzards, which nest on Bryn Euryn, and Ravens which regularly overfly both.

Some of the hawthorns here still have good crops of berries.

And there is lots of glorious golden fragrant gorse.

Another wider view from higher up over Colwyn Bay and towards the Clwydian Range of mountains where Offa’s Dyke begins.

170120-lo-95-view-from-little-orme-over-rhos-and-surrounding-area-1a

click to enlarge

The low sun gives a wonderful texture to the rough grass and rocks. I always wonder how rocks such as this one arrived where they are, but this one I use this one to recognise the point where I leave the path and approach the cliff edge, extremely cautiously, to get a better view of the site of the cormorants’ colonial nesting site.

They don’t appear to be doing much yet, in fact there were just two there when I first looked, although a few more did fly in to join them as I watched.

The Great Orme – click to enlarge

I climbed up a bit higher to admire the view across Llandudno Bay to the Great Orme. The pier looks toy-like against its great bulk.

The sun had dropped further and was almost hidden by the highest part of this headland to my left. The view from here is across Llandudno town to Anglesey and the bulky headland of Penmaenmawr. If you were looking at this as a walker of the Wales Coast Path travelling in this westerly direction, you could roughly trace your onward path and see where you would be in a day or so’s time.

Llandudno Bay, town and beyond – click to enlarge

Low light lends a different atmosphere to this place, especially when you’re alone and have an imagination such as mine. Rocks cast shadows and a solidity not as apparent in bright sunlight. I wonder how it looked before its bulk was reduced by quarrying? Are these squared off rocks remnants from that time or were they deliberately placed before then for some other purpose.

The remnants of a dry stone wall lead the eye to the wonderful view.

170120-lo-113-stone-wall-view-from-top-of-orme-1

click to enlarge

Then there are Hawthorn trees, contorted into wonderful shapes by the strong prevailing winds and features long associated with tales of witches and magic……

Even in broad daylight I wonder about the spot in the image below. I can easily imagine as some kind of mystical meeting place guarded by the trees and I know that as a child I’d have found a way around the fencing and sat on the top of that little hummock letting my imagination run riot, most probably giving myself nightmares.

I fancy other mystical markers – a hawthorn branch heavily covered with lichen that reaches out over the track and frames the view.

and a little tree well covered with lichens and further embellished with sheep’s wool.

The atmosphere is further enhanced by a pair of Ravens, companions of witches and wizards, ‘gronking’ as they passed overhead.

And a rabbit, moving strangely slowly around behind the wire fence. It didn’t bounce away from me like rabbits usually do and I wasn’t sure if it was just old or not well; its eyes looked strange and it may not have been seeing properly, if at all. It put me in mind of rabbits we used to see years ago with Mixomatosis, but is that still around? (see footnote)

A chaffinch foraging around in the gorse and blackthorn scrub led my eye to this sunlit spider’s web and distracted me from further over-imaginative thoughts!

Had a bit of a slithery walk down Rabbit Hill then headed back to leave the site. I took the path closest to the cliff edge to avoid oncoming late afternoon dog-walkers and spotted this bird sitting on the top of a gorse bush seemingly looking out to sea. Once again the sun was obscuring it from proper view but there was no mistaking this was a Kestrel, a young one I think. It was very cold now but the bird was sitting perfectly still with its feathers fluffed out.

I risked walking back around to get some better lighting, expecting it to fly off, but although I think it was aware of me it stayed put. I did get to a point with a better view – and the camera battery died! Time to go.

More about Myxomatosis

When I wrote this post and mentioned the ‘poorly’ rabbit I had seen, I hadn’t realised that the horrible disease, Myxomatosis, was still present and affecting rabbit populations in the UK. As a country-bred child back in the ’60s, I remember seeing many affected rabbits which I found distressing, and as the poor rabbits were sick they were easily caught by our cats, who didn’t kill them, but did bring them home. I also didn’t know then that it could be passed on to pet rabbits; now they must be vaccinated against the disease.

The disease called Myxomatosis reached the UK in 1953, where the first outbreak to be officially confirmed was in Bough Beech, Kent in September 1953. It was encouraged in the UK as an effective rabbit bio-control measure; this was done by placing sick rabbits in burrows, though this is now illegal. As a result, it is understood that more than 99% of rabbits in the UK were killed by the outbreak. However, by 2005 – fifty years later – a survey of 16,000 ha (40,000 acres) reported that the rabbit populations had increased three-fold every two years, likely as a result of increasing genetic resistance, or acquired immunity to the Myxomatosis virus. Despite this, it still appears regularly at rabbit warrens.

If you’ve never seen an affected rabbit, I can’t stress how awful it is. Initially the disease may be is visible as lumps (myxomata) and puffiness around the head and genitals, which progresses to acute conjunctivitis and possibly blindness; this also may be the first visible symptom of the disease. The rabbits become listless, lose appetite, and develop a fever. Secondary bacterial infections occur in most cases, which cause pneumonia and purulent inflammation of the lungs. In cases where the rabbit has little or no resistance, death may take place rapidly, often in as little as 48 hours; most cases result in death within 14 days. Not a good way to die.

Wild rabbits tend to recover quickly once the disease has passed; a certain density of rabbits is needed to keep the disease going and once the number of rabbits drops below that level the disease will disappear until the rabbit numbers increase again.

Grey Seals on the rocks

07 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, North Wales, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Seals, Wales Coast Path

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

grey seals, grey seals in Angel Bay, North Wales Wildlife Trust

In UK waters Grey Seals breed during the autumn. Although the entire breeding season spans approximately 8 weeks, individual females will spend 18-20 days ashore, during which time they each bear and suckle one pup. Towards the end of lactation they come into oestrus, as soon as 16 days after giving birth, and are mated.

August 28th

Another windy day on the headland of the Little Orme, but sunny too and the tide was out. Perfect conditions for seeing Grey Seals hauled out on the small pebbly beach of Angel Bay.

Angel Bay is an inlet on the Little Orme’s Headland on the North Wales Coast. Known locally as Angel Bay, on Ordnance Survey maps it is named in Welsh as Porth Dyniewaid.

Spotting one a short distance offshore in Penrhyn Bay was encouraging. The seal was suspended in the water with just it head above the surface facing towards the shore. They do this often and I’m sure they are ‘people watching’, as curious about us as we are about them.

There were boys in the bay, enjoying themselves greatly by jumping off rocks into the calm sea. I’m sure they were unaware of the seals not far away from them, hidden from their view as they were by an outcrop of rock . Unwilling to risk venturing ashore as they would normally have done, some were making the best of small islands of rock uncovered by the low tide, hauling out their bulky bodies to enjoy the warmth of the sun. Unfortunately there wasn’t room for all of them and some were left to drift around keeping a watchful eye out for a space to become available. Grey Seals are the largest breeding seals we have in the UK and those on view were definitely large, quite possibly pregnant females as they do congregate at traditional pupping sites in the autumn.

One had secured a rock of her own. She was rather beautiful, wearing a mantle of silvery grey velvet.

These three were more sociable and had left room for another.

After a bit of heaving and hauling the smaller one squeezed in, but there was no room left for more boarders.

There are nine seals in this picture – 6 on rocks and three swimming around hopefully.

The driver of one of the jet boats that take out sightseers from Llandudno pier spotted the seals and pulled in so people could have a closer look and take photographs of the seals. He must have passed the info on to other drivers as another boatload arrived a few minutes later. Then another who was a bit more intrusive and that I felt got a little too close. As I said before, seals are naturally curious themselves and are probably used to being observed from the clifftop, so they didn’t seem too bothered by the boats.

As the boat was leaving I took a short video as it is unusual to see the seals awake and moving, although they still weren’t doing much. Perhaps because they were rather put out about their lack of space the seals were quite vocal too, although most of the noise here was made by the departing boat & the wind!

An hour or so later the smaller rock had been taken over by a much larger seal; poor thing looks like she’s about to burst!

Of Cabbages and Butterflies

01 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by theresagreen in Butterflies of Wales, coastal wildflowers, Insects, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, plants important to wilflife, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wildflowers of Wales

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

brassica olaracea, butterfly behaviour, Large White butterfly, North Wales Wildlife Trust, pieris brassicae, wild cabbage

In these days of declining numbers of many, if not most of our butterfly species, I wonder if we will ever be persuaded to look more fondly, or at least a little more appreciatively upon our more common White ones? Might it have helped if those early entymologists and pioneer collectors had bestowed them with pretty common names, rather than the functional ones of Large or Small Whites?

The truth is, probably not. The butterflies downfall from our grace, supposing they were once in that state, coincided with our cultivation of cabbages and other related members of the brassiceae family for our own consumption. Plants that contain the stuff essential to the health and well-being of these butterflies’ larvae, as decreed by their evolution. The plants became abundant and readily accessible to the opportunistic butterflies and why would they not take advantage? They dared to invade our space though and became a serious pest, even an enemy. This is why many of us have grown up still calling both Large and Small Whites ‘Cabbage Whites’, especially if our parents grew our family’s veg. And why school cabbage often had a boiled green caterpillar in it.

Large White butterfly (male)

In 1717 James Petiver published the first book devoted exclusively to British butterflies, entitled Papilionum Brittaniae Icones. In it Petiver gave English names to a number of species, some that he made up himself. Others were taken from existing common useage, including Pieris rapis (brassicae), which he called the ‘Great White Cabbage Butterfly’ and/or the ‘Great Female Cabbage Butterfly’.

August 7th

2016 has not been the best year for butterflies in general and my collection of species photographed so far had several gaps in it compared to last year’s, two of which were reserved for the Large and Small White. A walk on the Little Orme today filled one of those gaps. I was walking around the base of the cliffs, mostly looking up as I had spotted a Raven perched on a ledge and was trying to get close without disturbing it. It flew off of course, but below where it had been was a large bramble bush smothered in late blossom. Only as I got close to it did I realise it was attracting a crowd of White butterflies; so well camouflaged against the pale flowers in bright sunlight that I hadn’t noticed them.

: Female ready to mate

: Male flying in

: Male approaching female

: Male approaching female to mate

Most of the butterflies were females, newly emerged, in need of food and clearly available to male interest. It took a few minutes for me to realise why there were so many here and where they had come from: until I spotted one fluttering around the leaf of a Wild Cabbage plant in fact! I couldn’t believe it had taken me till now to make such an obvious connection; the amount of times I have seen White butterflies here before, have noticed (and blogged about) the abundance of Wild Cabbage plants …… Oh well, I got there in the end!

The Wild Cabbage (Brassica oleracea), sometimes known as Sea Cabbage, is regarded as scarce by botanists as it is found in only 100 x 10km squares in the UK. The Little Orme and Great Orme in North Wales and the Gower Peninsular in South Wales are strongholds of the plant. Where it does occur, the plant is found on maritime cliffs, usually of limestone or chalk, typically growing on or near to cliff tops or cliff bases, often on ledges containing other mixed herb communities.

The Large White Pieris brassicae is a strong-flying butterfly. It is indeed large; males have a wingspan of up to 63mm & females of up to 70mm. Both have bright white wings with black tips to the forewings that extend down the wing edges. Females have two large black spots and a dash on both sides of each forewing that are absent from the upper surface of the males. The undersides are creamy-yellow.

In the British Isles the Large White is double brooded and females lay eggs any time from March to October. Most are laid during July and August when the numbers of resident butterflies may be increased significantly by migrants arriving from Europe. This also happens to coincide with maturing brassica crops.

Plants and insects have evolved together: plants needed butterflies for pollination and in return plants provided foliage for their caterpillars. The plants chosen as egg-laying sites by the Large White typically contain mustard oil glucosides, whose primary function when subsequently eaten by the larvae, is to make them distasteful to predators such as birds and protect them from attack. The preferred larval food plants are primarily various Crucifers, but they will also use Wild Mignonette and in parks and gardens Nasturtiums may be targeted.

August 26th

Back on the Little Orme to see if I could find Large White eggs and/or caterpillars on any of the plants around the bramble bush.

The butterflies avoid putting too many eggs on one plant to prevent the caterpillars running out of food and it took me a while to find an intact leaf that had an egg cluster beneath it. I only managed to find one caterpillar in a very early stage of its development, and as Small Whites also use the plants I can’t be sure which species it belongs to.

I finally found a well-grown Large White caterpillar on 10th September on a Wild cabbage leaf on an exposed part of the cliff directly overlooking the sea. It was a sunny day but with a chilly breeze and it wasn’t moving much. Clearly confident nothing would try to eat it.

The Butterfly’s Status as a Pest species

In the present day, areas such as Great Britain, P. brassicae are now less threatening as pests because of natural and chemical control reasons. However, it is still considered a pest in other European countries, in China, India, Nepal, and Russia.

The most susceptible crops to P. brassicae damage in areas in Europe include Brussels sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, Kohlrabi, rape, swede, and turnip. The attacks to crops tend to be localised, but can lead to 100% crop loss in a certain area. In addition, because of its strong inclination to migrate, adults may infest new areas that were previously free from attack. It is estimated to cause over 40% yield loss annually on different crop vegetables in India and Turkey.

Sleeping Seals and Stonechats

02 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by theresagreen in coastal habitat, Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Rhos-on-Sea, Seals, The Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

alexanders, dunnock, grey seals, grey seals in Angel Bay, jackdaw, jackdaws on cliff, stonechat

A brightly sunny day, too good to miss, so I headed for the Little Orme which offers reliable sightings of a wide variety of wildlife in a relatively compact area with little effort required. Well-used by local people and visitors to the area and part of the route of both the Wales Coast Path and the North Wales Path, the pathways of the lower part of the reserve particularly are often very busy. Opportunities for uninterrupted attempts to photograph the more wary small woodland birds may be limited, but despite close human proximity the birds carry on regardless and largely unnoticed.

I use the entrance to the reserve sited at the back end of a residential area. Today the lawns of the unfenced front gardens were providing foraging for jackdaws and a few Pied wagtails. Outside the breeding season wagtails gather here in the evenings before setting off to roost comunally for the night. On the roofs were perched gulls, Wood pigeons and Magpies and a singing Greenfinch. There’s a thriving House sparrow population here too and cheerful chirruping greeted me as I climbed the steps up to the reserve, where they frequent the tangle of brambles and shrubs there.

The Fulmars have returned to their nest sites high on the cliffs. Although a small colony of just 10 or so pairs they draw attention to themselves by noisily proclaiming their territories and can be heard as soon as you enter the site. I looked out for Ravens that have used the same nest site up on the cliff for many years, but I didn’t see or hear them today.

I was pleased to see a pair of Stonechat though, one of my favourite little birds. They were in the same area within which a pair successfully raised a family last year, so I like to think this may be the same pair. I couldn’t get close enough to them to get good photographs, but I prefer to use ‘real time’ images whenever possible, so these were today’s best record shots.

Stonechat -Saxicola rubicans -male

Stonechat female

The biggest draw to the reserve are the Grey Seals that at this time of year can be fairly reliably seen, when the tide is out, hauled up on the stony beach of Angel Bay. Today there were about 20 females and their rapidly growing pups, a few in the water, the rest sleeping blending perfectly into the background of stones and rocks.

Grey Seals in Angel Bay, Little Orme

Jackdaws are without doubt the most numerous birds here and a great number gather here to breed, nesting on the rocky cliff faces. They spread throughout the site to feed and also separate into small flocks that venture back and forth to forage in a wide variety of places locally, arriving back noisily to land on the cliffs where they site their nests. It is good to see them foraging and nesting in their natural cliff habitat rather than in villages roosting on roofs and nesting in chimneypots.

Jackdaw

Jackdaws in their natural breeding habitat

Blackbirds are another numerous bird here as are Robins and Dunnocks, with males singing from shrubs throughout the site. Close to the backs of houses trees and shrubs are frequented by good numbers of birds. The House sparrows are nesting close to a busy path here and a chorus of chirrupings emanated loudly from within the shrubs, but despite being audible from some distance away, they stayed well hidden. Also seen and heard singing here were Chaffinch, Greenfinch, Wren, Great Tit and Blue Tit.

Dunnock male singing from a wild rose stem with numerous Robins pincushion galls

Wildflowers appear a little later on this windswept clifftop than in more sheltered areas, but there’s plenty of the early flowering Alexanders on show.

Alexanders

Elder leaves are well grown too.

160310-26a-Little Orme-Magpie in Elder tree

Magpie well concealed in an Elder tree

Ravens of the Little Orme

05 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, bird mythology, Birds, birds of Wales, Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, corvus corax, raven, raven folklore

Ravens once scavenged on the streets of London and other British towns and cities, but were gradually pushed further and further away to the west and north of the country, until the majority of those remaining were residing in the mountains of Scotland and Wales. At one time, due to persecution, their numbers were reduced to around 1,000 pairs and they became birds much associated with upland wild places. However, the ravens fortunes have turned and over the last twenty years their numbers have increased dramatically and they have repopulated much of Britain, including some urban areas. There are now over 12,000 breeding pairs.

Newborough forest on the Isle of Anglesey is famed for its huge raven roost, where up to 2,000 birds have been recorded, making it the second largest raven roost in the world.

Ravens are also found around the Welsh coast, where they nest on sea cliffs. In my local area of North Wales we are lucky in having a resident breeding pair on the Little Orme and for me, a visit there is not complete without seeing what these charismatic corvids are up to.

Raven-Corvus corax

RAVEN – Welsh name: BRAN – Scientific name: Corvus corax

The raven is Britain’s largest corvid (crow). Plumage is black and highly glossy in appearance, with bright sunlight bringing forth purple and green highlights; the tail is wedge-shaped. The bill is massive; adapted to pull apart raw flesh it’s an essential tool for a bird which scavenges on dead animals.

A flying raven showing the wedge-shaped tail and dead-mans fingers at wing tips

VOICE

Their call is distinctive, a deep croaking sound, known as ‘gronking’ which often alerts me to look up to watch one flying overhead and that is surely one of the most evocative sounds of Britain’s uplands.

Raven calling while flying

TERRITORY

The Little Orme’s resident ravens are the avian monarchs of this cliff. They are often seen sitting together on the cliff edge from where they survey their realm, gleaming regally in the sunshine, occasionally lifting their heads to gronk at passing birds or at the empty sky. They have no need to defend their territory as the mere physical presence of these powerful birds is enough to establish their claim to it. But as with other species of birds, when nesting they may become more defensive and will attack anything they perceive to be a threat.

Raven pair in a favoured spot on the clifftop

When they are not ensconced there, another favoured spot for perching is further up towards the summit atop a rocky ridge. They can sometimes be found flying along the cliffs and across the summit.

The male of the pair may also be found at the sea edge of the cliffs where he spends long minutes hunched on a ledge gazing out to sea watching for potential invaders.

July- Raven looking out to sea

FLIGHT

The everyday flight of the raven is direct, strong and steady, but it can also glide and soar freely and put on an impressive aerobatic display. In spring particularly, pairs of ravens tumble together high in the air, wings half-closed, rolling over sideways and nose-diving. They also have the trick of flying upside down for short distances. Perhaps these aerobics are part of the raven’s courtship display, but they may also perform for the joy of it and just because they can.

16/9/15-Raven soaring sideways

FOOD

Ravens are sometimes regarded as the vultures of sheep country as they patrol in a pair or as a family group, searching for carrion or an ailing sheep or deer which they will watch and wait to die. They will eat almost anything, mainly carrion and small animals, but also insects, shellfish and even grain and acorns.

NESTING

The Little Orme’s ravens return to the same nest each year, adding new material to renovate it as they need to. In the years I have watched them, they have raised only one or two young each year.

Both sexes build a nest of sticks cemented together with mud and bound and lined with moss and sheep’s wool or whatever is available locally, it is shaped into a deep cup, preferably on a ledge or in a crevice. They are amongst the earliest of birds to produce eggs, between February & April. There may be 4-6 eggs, pale green or blue with dark markings. Incubation, by the female only, takes about 19 days. Nestlings are fed by both parents until they leave at about 6 weeks.

31/5/14-Young raven on the nest almost ready to leave-Little Orme

MYTHOLOGY & FOLKLORE

The raven is probably one of the world’s most intelligent and playful bird. Modern experiments have shown that they can count up to 8. Our hunter-gatherer ancestors would have observed the keen intelligence of this bird. It has a well-documented habit of deliberately revealing the whereabouts of deer, so that hunting wolves can find their quarry and leave spoils, which the ravens could eat. Even modern deer-stalkers have reported ravens helping them to locate deer, as the birds know that they will receive the ‘gralloch’ or guts after the deer is killed.

Paradoxically it has also been regarded as a bird of ill-omen. The old collective noun for a group of ravens is an ‘unkindness’, perhaps because of its harsh call and its presence as a scavenger at scenes of death.

In the Old Testament of the Bible, the raven was the first bird Noah sent to look for land, and Elijah is described as being provided for by ravens. They are used as a symbol of God’s providence in both the New Testament and in Christian art.

There is probably more folklore concerning the raven than any other bird in Britain.

In Welsh folklore, Bran the Blessed, the brother of Branwen (Bran is Welsh for raven) is a deity and a guardian of Britain whose totem is a raven. According to the Mabinogion, Bran ordered for his own head to be cut off, after which it could still speak words of prophecy. Eventually it was said to have been buried beneath Tower Hill, at the Tower of London as a talisman against invasion.

The presence of ravens at the Tower is an echo of this legend and the prophecy says that if the ravens ever leave the tower, the Kingdom of England will fall, hence their wings are clipped as a precaution. It is thought that there have been at least six ravens in residence at the tower for centuries. Charles II reputedly ordered their removal following complaints from John Flamsteed, the Royal Astronomer. However, they were not removed as Charles was then told of the legend. Charles, following the time of the English Civil War, superstition or not, was not prepared to take the chance, and instead had the observatory moved to Greenwich.

Odin, the chief of the Norse gods, was accompanied by a pair of ravens, Hugin (thought) and Munin (memory), who would fly far and wide to bring news to Odin. One of Odin’s names, Hrafnagud, means the ‘Raven God’.