Blowing Away the Cobwebs

26 Wednesday Jan 2022

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, Conwy, North Wales, Wales Coast Path, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

Tags

beachcombing, Carrion Crow, common gull, Llanddulas, mallard, Oystercatcher, seashells, strandline, winter

Wednesday last week started out enticingly clear and sunny, perfect weather for a walk on the coast path to blow away the cobwebs. But, despite knowing full well how changeable the weather can be here on the North Wales coast, I dilly-dallied, doing stuff that could easily have waited till later. By the time I was ready to go it had started to cloud over and there was a strong breeze blowing. But it wasn’t raining and from my window I could see sun shining over the far side of Colwyn Bay, so that’s where I decided to head for.

Llanddulas, with an interesting landscape and mix of habitats, is the perfect place to combine meandering-with-intent and if required, a brisk walk along the coast path, despite its bleakness on days like today. As I pulled in to park my car behind the defensive wall of rip-rap, two hopeful gulls landed on the ground close by, one a black-head gull, the other a herring gull. Even here the local gulls have come to associate cars with people with food, especially since lock-down brought more visitors and subsequently more people in camper-vans.

The river (Afon Dulas)

The river’s water level is low at the moment, giving the opportunity for repairs to made to parts of its banks that have been quite badly eroded. The worst affected spots are those where people regularly leave the path to get down to the water; these spots, already weakened have been further damaged at times when the river level has been higher after storms and heavy rainfall.

Looking downriver towards where the river soon meets the sea there are more eroded areas, one spot on the bend reaches very close to the edge of the coast path.

Crossing the bridge, I stopped to watch three mallards that were heading upstream towards me; a female flanked on either side by two males. They seemed to be in no particular hurry, cruising steadily along paddling against the flow of the river, dabbling as they travelled. The water was surprisingly clear, and though it was rippled and textured by the wind, I could see the ducks’ heads as they searched the riverbed. All are looking very handsome in their bright breeding colours and I wondered about there being two males and one female; mallards start to pair up around October or November, so was one male hoping to entice the female away from the other, or was she torn between the two?

The wind was getting stronger and as it was blowing from the north-west, I could feel it pushing me along as I carried on following the course of the river to where it meets the sea. It was invigorating and all cobwebs were quickly dispatched, and I tried not to think about the walk back against a head-on wind.

The Strandline

At its end, the river is guided to its meeting point with the sea by a great man-made wall of piled rocks and it’s behind that the shoreline becomes accessible.

The tide was just on the point of turning, and the wind was pushing some big waves towards the shore where they crashed and left foamy trails as they receded. There is no shelter from the elements anywhere along this exposed section of the coast and today, even the hardy herring gulls, often here in great numbers, were conspicuous by their absence.

When the tide is in there is no visible sand, so it’s not greatly attractive to people, but this rough stony area of the shoreline is always interesting, both in terms of what plants grow here and what the waves may have carried in and left behind them on the strandline.

The strandline here at Llanddulas is almost always interesting and is a good place to find some of the bigger and tougher shells, although many get damaged by the rocks and stones on the lower shore. A lot of twiggy and small pieces of wood get mixed in with the drifts of seaweed too; some is probably driftwood, but as there are trees on the other edge of the path it’s likely that much of it is from there. Sadly, there’s also usually a lot of plastic waste amongst the treasures, endless metres of fine fishing line that gets tangled into seaweed, discarded wipes, plastic bottle tops and spent shotgun cartridges are some of the most frequently found items. I always pick up what I see and today ended up with at least half a bag full of stuff to put into the rubbish bin, but it’s frustrating knowing there’s a lot more out there that really doesn’t need to be.

The gulls may have been spending their day elsewhere, but there were several carrion crows about. One flew in and landed close to me on the rise of pebbles on the sea edge, perhaps interested to see if I’d found anything edible as I probed in the piles of seaweed.

My activity also caught the interest of a free-running dog that came racing over towards me from the path, taking no notice of its owner’s attempts to call it back. It was a cute dog, but I didn’t want its excited company, and more importantly, I’d spotted a line of resting birds along the sea-edge just ahead of me and didn’t want the the dog to catch sight of them too and race over and disturb them, something that happens all too often here. This time I managed to divert it back towards its owners and the birds were left in peace.

Oystercatcher – welsh Pioden y Môr

Oystercatchers seem, happily, to be maintaining good-sized populations along this coast and Welsh estuaries, but that is not the case generally, as highlighted in this recent post by Graham Appleton:

Over recent decades, numbers of Eurasian Oystercatchers have declined. In 2015 the species was reclassified as “Near Threatened” on the IUCN’s Red List (Birdlife International) and “Vulnerable” within Europe. It is also Amber listed on the UK’s Birds of Conservation Concern list, due to its European status, the concentration of its wintering population in protected sites and the international importance of UK breeding and wintering populations.
When Oystercatchers can’t find food
JANUARY 13, 2022 / GRAHAM APPLETON

Not shells

Moving on, a bit higher up on the beach there was more to see, including pieces of ‘stuff’ that are found blowing around on beaches practically everywhere and some that I’ve only recently become aware of.

On the left of the photograph, a bundle of the dried empty egg-cases of the common whelk.

On the right is a piece of dried almost fabric-like hornwrack. It looks like a dried piece of seaweed, but is actually a colony of animals, meshed tightly together, each animal contained in a little box. When it’s alive, hornwrack grows only during spring and summer, forming bushy clumps attached to shells, stones, cobbles or rocky seabeds and is a pale beige colour.

I first came across a piece of the stuff in this photograph on New Year’s Day whilst out collecting shells with my little granddaughters on Rhos on Sea beach. There was a lot of there and I was intrigued by it, although they both said it was ‘disgusting’! It does look a bit odd, I admit and it feels strange, very light and a bit corky or spongy. It turns out that it is commonly known as dead man’s fingers, which in its life is a soft coral whose scientific name is Alcyonium digitatum, which also references fingers, an indication of how it grows.

It was interesting to find it here too and others have found it on beaches further along the coast, so I wonder if it all originated in the same place, brought in by a recent storm and carried on currents to be washed up in various places?

On a calmer day I might have lingered here longer, but my hands were getting cold and I can’t operate a camera with gloves on. I took them off again to photograph this surprising sight ; the new green leaves of a yellow horned-poppy plant, then headed back over to join the coast path.

Back on the path I deposited my rubbish collection in a bin in front of the café/bar next to the caravan site and carried on, still blown from behind by the wind. This stretch of path towards Pensarn is edged on the sea side by a narrow strip of ground which in the spring and summer months becomes a colourful border full of wildflowers.

Presently, it is largely covered by grass and spiked with tall dried stalks, the remains of last year’s flower stems, but already the bright green leaves of Alexanders are growing strongly.

Watching the sea crashing in against the fortified shore brings home just how powerful it is and how vulnerable to its effects the land is.

In the near distance I could see a few gulls flying around the posts of one of the groynes and although tempted to turn around here, I wondered why they were here when all others were elsewhere. As I got nearer I was more mystified; the gulls were perching on the tops of posts and flying up just as each big wave broke behind them, momentarily covering the post. It was entertaining to watch, almost as though they were playing a game of ‘chicken’ – seeing who could stay the longest before being hit by the rising water.

Common gulls – the perched bird has its first-winter plumage

I couldn’t get close enough to the birds for a really good look, even with a zoom lens, but at least two were definitely common gulls, which we don’t get to see many of; in fact here is the only place I have seen them for myself. These gulls are slightly bigger than a black-headed gull but much smaller than a herring gull. The common gull also has greeny-yellow legs rather than the red of the black-headed gull and the pink ones of a herring gull. The best photograph I managed was of one flying, which shows its bill, finer and more pointed than that of a herring gull and the larger ‘mirrors’ on its wingtips.

My original plan had been to carry on walking to Pensarn beach, but the thought of walking back against the cold and increasingly strong wind from even further away took away my enthusiasm for that and I headed back. As suspected, it was indeed a bracing walk back and I stopped only once for long enough to take a photograph of the view in the direction I was now walking in. I think I’d be a bit concerned if I had one of those mobile homes close to the shore edge.

Note to self: don’t park your car this close to the sea wall on windy days- salt spray is not good for it!

Going Wild on the Beaches

10 Sunday Jun 2018

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, coastal wildflowers, Nature of Public Places, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Buck's-horn Plantain, Curled Dock, flowering in June, flowering in May, rhos-on-sea, Sea Beet, street wildflowers, wildflowers on beaches

Rhos-on-Sea

Rhos-on-Sea has a small sandy beach protected from the worst of the elements by the piled stones of the breakwater wall.

Most of the time it’s quiet, with most beach-seekers opting for the bigger expanse of sand further round Colwyn Bay, but it can get busy on warm sunny days as it’s handy for the village cafés, shops and the all-important public loos. It’s popular too with some of the younger local Herring Gulls whilst the grown-ups are otherwise occupied with raising the next generation.

The nearby wooden jetty is a draw for those wanting to try out the gentle sport of ‘crabbing’ too.

But my interest in the beach is with other visitors, the opportunistic wildflowers that grow there, mainly at the back of the sandy beach pressed against the sea wall.

The line of small dinghies lodged haphazardly against the wall don’t get much exercise by the look of things, but they help give the plants a bit more shelter. There’s a nice spread of Wall Barley,

Wall Barley- Hordeum murinum

then more Wall Barley, touches of Dandelion and Groundsel surround a clump of Sweet Alison. This does have origins as a wildflower and it grows wildly around the Mediterranean, but is more familiar to us as a garden edging plant. This one is probably the offspring of such a one that has escaped the formality of a bedding scheme in favour of a wilder life.

There’s more Dandelion, past flowering for now, and a couple of clumps of Curled Dock. This is one of our two most common docks, whose narrower leaves with wavy edges make it distinguishable from the other more familiar Broad-leaved Dock, a much sturdier plant whose leaves we used as kids to alleviate the pain of nettle stings.

Dandelion and Curled Dock-Rumex crispus

Sea Mayweed-Tripleurospermum maritimum

There’s some Sea Beet here, but much more further along, so I’ll get back to that. By far the most prolific plant though is Sea Mayweed, which has the odd flower open but although it’s leaves are pretty, it’s not at its best yet.

There’s another Mayweed too, the Pineapple Mayweed, so named because it’s supposed to smell of the fruit when it’s crushed.

Pineapple Mayweed-Matricaria discoidea

More Curled Dock, silvery-grey leaved Fat Hen which is not flowering yet and Shepherd’s Purse with the distinctive heart-shaped seed capsules that give it its common name.

Curled Dock, Fat Hen and Shepherds Purse

And to finish this section a nice group photo featuring most of the aforementioned main characters.

At the far end of the beach, there’s a change in character. The sand thins gradually petering out, and the now stony ground offers an opportunity for other plant species to stake a claim. I find it amazing that any plant can survive the harsh conditions of any beach, let alone one as exposed and seemingly hostile as this one. Some like the Sea Beet and the Curled Dock are perennials and look tough enough to have staked a permanent claim. Others appear at first sight to be small and fragile, although looks are often deceptive and some, like this White Clover should surely be somewhere more lush and grassy?

Growing through the clover in my photo above are bits of a plant I like very much, the Buck’s-horn Plantain, named for the shape of its attractive leaves. This one is a toughie, and is found on disturbed ground and on rocky sites mainly near the sea, but it may be pushing its boundaries a bit here.

Bucks-horn Plantain-Plantago coronopus

There’s a sprinkling of Annual Wall Rocket plants

Annual Wall Rocket-

and a straggly looking Cat’s-ear, one of the few hawkbit-hawk’s beard or otherwise dandelion-flowered hawk-something that I think I know.

Cats-ear-Hypochaeris radicata

There’s more ferny-foliaged Sea Mayweed

Sea Mayweed

more Curled Dock

Curled Dock

and another one of my favourite toughies, the pretty Common Mallow.

Common Mallow-Malva

There’s more Wall Barley too.

And some impressive specimens of Sea Beet. I’m surprised this doesn’t get fashionably-foraged for one of our trendier local restaurants – it’s the plant from which our cultivated beets originated, so does have edible roots.

Behind the now empty buildings it grows prolifically.

Speaking of the buildings, I stop and wonder what will happen to them. They are very much a local landmark with an interesting history. An impressive pier once stretched out into the sea from this point and the buildings, including the iconic octagonal one, originally served as a toll both and entrance building for passengers embarking on steamers that docked here. There have been a few subsequent changes of use since the council finally bought the pier and demolished it in 1954. Many people seem to particularly remember the café once located here.The walls on this beach side also form part of the sea wall, so perhaps partly for that reason their continuing presence was secured last May when it was added to the Grade II list of buildings.

Looking towards the old pier buildings

Leaving the beach there were more little plants to see on the paved areas at the side of the buildings and on the steps leading up to the front of it, so maybe this area is not included on the council’s weed hit list.

Against the pink-painted wall

Sow Thistle, Rocket & Chickweed

and from a crack in the paving

Pineapple Mayweed & Wall Barley

and growing across a drain grille was this White Stonecrop

White Stonecrop

THE PROMENADE

From here I walked back along the Prom; this view is taken looking back along a section I’d already walked along

Promenade Rhos on Sea

and this is going forward showing the embankment. Quite unusually I thought, it had been allowed to grow long, so was sprinkled with patches of buttercups, red clover and flowering grasses. It’s uncut state is probably more to do with council budget cuts than as an aid to wildlife. I’m sure it’ll be neatened up before the start of the official High Season.

Buttercups and Plantain

Red Clover

Sweet Vernal Grass

False Oat Grass

Yorkshire Fog

Cock’s-foot Grass

Several plants have colonised the huge piled up rocks that provide extra sea defence, including a Sycamore tree which is currently flowering and visited by Bumblebees. Despite the sunshine and the flowers on offer, admittedly not a great selection, there were very few insects about. I saw perhaps half a dozen bees and one White sp. butterfly.

Sycamore flowers with Bumblebee

The daisies have been spectacular here this year.

Daisies by the sea

To finish, almost home I spotted another couple of little gems tucked in against walls on the street

Wall Speedwell

and two tiny pink-flowered Cranesbills

Dove’s-foot Cranesbill

Shining Cranesbill

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

Winter Promenades

22 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by theresagreen in birds of the seashore, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Rhos Point, Wales Coast Path

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

birds of conservation concern, black-headed gull changing plumage, Curlew, dunlin, dunnock, overwintering birds, purple sandpiper, Rhos Point, ringed plover, Robin, rock pipit, winter wildflowers

January 2nd 2018

The Promenade runs unbroken from Old Colwyn at one end to Penrhyn Bay at the other, following the contours of Colwyn Bay, Rhos Point and the seashore of the aforementioned Penrhyn Bay. It is well-used, particularly so in the warmer seasons and weekends, but also on sunny days throughtout the year; it’s also a part of the Wales Coast Path and is both a walking and a cycling route. The section I walk most often these days starts close to the tiny St.Trillo’s chapel, passes Rhos Point and continues into Rhos on Sea village.

St Trillo’s Chapel, Rhos-on-Sea

This strip of coastline is fascinating. The Promenade and the busy road that runs alongside it form a corridor between land claimed for human habitation, travel and recreation and a rugged seashore and mussel bed, regularly washed over by the Irish Sea, that provides for a variety of species of wildlife, including large numbers of over-wintering wading birds. There is also an interesting ‘cross-over’ by some birds that have learnt to utilise the opportunities offered on both sides of the corridor.

This morning I’d visited my daughter & grandchildren who live just a couple of hundred metres from the Prom and I thought while I was this close I’d check up quickly on a very special winter visitor – a Purple Sandpiper. I knew there was one here as I’d found it in the same spot on the rocks frequented by one lone individual last winter. (I posted about it earlier last year as The Lonely Purple Sandpiper.) The times whilst the tide is high and for a short while as it begins to go out again are the best times to get close-up views of them.

23/12/17-1432-Purple sandpiper

Walking down the slope near the chapel I couldn’t fail to notice a huge photographic lens fitted to a camera on a tripod angled down onto the rocks below, with a man standing behind it. I guessed all would be aimed at the Purple sandpiper, and so it was, but rather than there being the one bird I’d expected to see, there were six. Four were out in the open, tucked up and fast asleep, but the photographer said there were at least two more a bit lower down behind rocks. These lovely little winter visitors are famous and people travel here from miles around in hope of seeing them. This guy had come from Wigan and here on his third visit in recent weeks to attempt to see them. There was no way he was leaving until he’d got shots of them doing something more interesting. He was also willing the sun to come out to light them up better against the dark rocks. You really do have to catch these birds at high tide when they rest up on the rocks of the rip-rap, as once the tide goes out, so do they and you’ve lost them.

2/01/18-1105-Rhos Point-Purple Sandpipers

Great Crested Grebes regularly cruise the bay and there was one out there now. Although not appearing to be travelling at speed, they are tricky to catch an image of; you just get them in focus and they dive. I get a lot of images of empty sea. They can travel good distances underwater in pursuit of fish so you can’t predict where they’ll pop up again.

Following last night’s Super Moon, there was a Spring Tide this morning, at its highest at 10:40am (the Spring Tides are the highest ones). It was windy here as it is at most high tides, but not blowing in across the sea, so its surface was barely rippled. At just past 12 noon, the water was beginning to recede but it would be a while before the sandpipers responded and became active; they’re used to arctic conditons, but it was way too cold for me to stand still. I wondered about the lone bird I’d seen before Christmas. Was it now part of this little group? Surely it was, but I walked the short distance along to where I’d seen it before to make certain. No sign of it, but I did see the biggest jellyfish I’ve ever seen stranded on top of a rock by the tide. It looked a bit battered but don’t know how you tell a live one from a dead one when they’re out of the water.

I walked as far as the steep concrete steps that go down to the shore that are becoming increasingly smoother and their edges more rounded year on year. They were wet right to the top showing how high the water level must have reached earlier on.

Now I’d seen the Sandpipers and knowing I could come back and see them again I thought I’d get into my car out of the cold and go home. But then there might be more to see, I was here now and at least it wasn’t raining like it was yesterday. I also had the luxury of being able to walk here without a grandchild in a pram as I often do, so could stop as often as I liked without protest from a little companion. I walked on towards the village.

It’s not only birds that have ‘crossed-over’ to the wild side of the road. The huge, predominantly limestone rocks of the rip-rap support an increasing variety of plants too. They are mostly garden escapes such as buddleiah and michaelmas daisies and just past the chapel is a bushy shrub. This established bush is sometimes full of one of the local House sparrow tribes adding their cheerful chirping to the more expected sounds of the seashore. There are often House sparrows foraging amongst the rocks of the seashore, especially when they’re nesting and have young to feed. They come after it’s rained too, to drink from small pools of fresh water briefly held by the limestone rip rap.

1/10/17-Rhos Point-A bush full of House sparrows

The bush has shed its leaves now and there were no sparrows today. Someone has put up a bird feeder filled with nuts, maybe for them or maybe for the Robin that is also often around here.

The sea had begun to recede here on the Point, so I began to walk down the ramp to see if any birds had arrived to forage in its wake and was surprised by a Dunnock that popped out from the base of the bush.

2/1/18-1218-Rhos Point-Dunnock

It moved back down to the rocks beneath

and was joined by a Robin.

The big patch of Winter Heliotrope on the grassy embankment is flowering prolifically now as it has been since last December. This is another plant that started out as a garden plant that escaped and is now also accepted as a wildflower. It’s widespread around the village but this location, facing straight out to sea is not its usual habitat; it’s supposed to go for damp shady places, often under trees. It is thriving here though, this patch is now huge. It’s perhaps not the most beautiful of plants, but it’s a joy to see anything in flower at this time of year and the flowers have a delicious scent, heliotrope is widely used in the perfume industry, but you have to get down to their level to check that out!

Winter heliotrope –

Round about this spot I’d seen a little party of Ringed Plovers on Christmas Eve, when walking into the village with my own family party. There’d been a group of about 15 gathered on the rocks waiting for the tide to turn (birds that is, not family members). No sign of them now, so this is an image I got that day.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Ringed Plovers

There was a single Dunlin there then too, resting with its head tucked under its wing just peeping out to check it was safe to carry on napping.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Dunlin

Reaching the harbour the calm appearance of the sea belied the fact that it was actually quite windy and with no sunshine still really cold, not a day for sustained birdwatching from one spot. I loved the view though in these misty muted winter shades.

The harbour wall provides the perfect place for birds the sit out the high tides to wait close by for that magical moment when as it recedes it reaches the perfect point for them to make the short flight back to the shore. There are always oystercatchers and often gulls and a crow or two. A couple seeking shelter from the biting cold against a wall were viewing it with binoculars; they’d seen Ringed Plovers there too. At the far end sat a group of Cormorants; in my photograph you can see Colwyn Bay’s sadly dilapidated Victoria Pier behind them.

Across the road is the park which has a children’s play area, a good old-fashioned paddling pool, empty now of course and open grassy areas that is currently wet and muddy, perfect for blackbirds, thrushes and starlings digging for worms. Here with my slightly bigger granddaughter a few days ago there were two Mistle thrushes in addition to today’s blackbirds and starlings.

Starling – juvenile

I watched a Black-headed gull, its head is just beginning to show the beginnings of darkening to the chocolate-brown of the birds breeding plumage. It too was digging successfully for worms in the soft mud. I like these neat little gulls with their red bills and legs.

Black-headed gull

Heading back down the slope to walk back I was pleased to see a rock Pipit hopping and flitting between the rocks and the Prom edge before disappearing into plants on the grassy embankment

2/1/18-Rock Pipit

A Robin popped up too – maybe the one I’d seen earlier further along by the bush. He/she was quite likely warning off the Rock Pipit.

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Robin

Daisies are flowering, only a few bravely showing their faces, but a reminder that despite their dainty fragile looks they are as tough as old boots!

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Daisy

Canny Crows are frequent visitors to the rocky shore and search amongst the rocks for anything edible from scraps of left-over food left by visitors to accessible shellfish.

This one had found the remains of a sizeable crab and that look in its eye says it wasn’t about to share it!

The tide was a little further out now and oystercatchers were beginning to arrive back. They didn’t begin foraging though, instead they quickly settled and resumed their rests.

The two in the pictures below have pointed beaks so would probably be waiting for the softer ground to be revealed in which they probe for their food. Those that hammer away at shellfish have bills that are blunter and more squared off.

The people with the binoculars told me they’d come down here via Penrhyn Bay where it was apparently even colder than here. They reported seeing a Grey plover there on one of the breakwaters, so I decided to go that way home and stop and have a look. I didn’t hold out much hope of seeing anything without binoculars and had no idea which breakwater it might have been on either. It was definitely colder here, and I was not going to hang about, but I was really pleased to discover that this is where the Redshanks come to roost between tides! I’ve often wondered where they go and here they were; dozens of them tucked up in the shelter of the rocks.

Seeing the Redshanks still waiting for the signal to make their move back to the Point made me hope that Curlews would also be in the field they frequent when not on the seashore. They were! And they come with the added bonus that you can stop on the roadside and watch them from inside your car. The brambly hedge on the field boundary gets in the way of the camera lens somewhat, and they were a distance away, but in this setting they are a wonderful sight.

Curlew bathing

A Windy Wildflower Trail – completion

18 Monday Sep 2017

Posted by theresagreen in Butterflies of Wales, calcareous grassland, coastal walks, nationally scarce wildflowers, Nature of Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, plants important to wilflife, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wales Coast Path, wildflowers on limestone

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Banded burdock fly, Brown Argus, comma, dropwort, Horehound moth, Spiked speedwell, Veronica spicata, White horehound

August 3rd

Part 3 – Rhiwleddyn Nature Reserve

It is wonderful to wander through places that have been left alone and to find indigenous plants that could have been growing there for hundreds of years, or in some cases, even thousands. But areas that have in one way or another been ‘disturbed’ often bring forth species of flora and fauna not seen in areas that haven’t, as in the next part of my wander around the reserve.

Brambles and nettles threaten to take over this small, scrubby area in the midst of the reserve, but there are plants tough enough to hold their own there, one being Common Sorrel.

Common Sorrel Rumex acetosa

The tall stately Great Mullein with its large beautiful grey-green velvety leaves sometimes graces a disturbed scrubby patch. It’s a biennial plant, so flowers appear during each plant’s second year. It is a locally common plant, but its appearance in a specific area each year is not predictable; which makes it more of a treat when you do find it. Each plant usually produces a single flowering spike; one with multiple spikes may indicate that it was nibbled by rabbits in the early stages of its growth.

Great Mullein – Verbascum thrapsis

White horehound, is one of the scarcer plants to be found within the reserve. Its presence here is tenuous year on year, as it is constantly under threat of being out-competed by rampant ‘coarse’ vegetation such as nettles and brambles; its survival largely dependent upon diligent scrub-clearing and management by the reserve management team and Wildlife Trust volunteers. The plant is also found, in greater amounts, on the Great Orme.

June 2017-larva of the Horehound Moth – Wheeleria spilodactylus on foodplant

White horehound is important as it is the only food plant of the larvae of the Horehound Moth Wheeleria spilodactylus. Inhabiting chalky soils, this is a localised species of plume moth, largely confined to the Isle of Wight and a few scattered localities in Wales and Southern England. The exceptionally well-camouflaged caterpillars appeared on plants here earlier in the year when I took this photograph; they are evidence that the battle to maintain its ongoing presence is important to this species of moth.

I haven’t seen the moth myself, but found this perfect picture of one, appropriately taken on the foodplant on the Great Orme by John Martin. Respecting the copyright of the image, this is the link to it. http://www.ukmoths.org.uk/species/wheeleria-spilodactylus/adult-on-foodplant-2/

A little grasshopper sat basking, sheltered from the wind and very well camouflaged on a bramble leaf. I doubt I’d have seen him if I’d not caught sight of him land there.

Grasshopper on bramble leaf

This is him/her greatly enlarged

Grasshopper on bramble leaf (enlarged)

Another tough plant here is the Lesser Burdock. I like the plant with its round prickly flower heads and tufts of purple flowers that will soon dry into ‘burrs’ and stick to anything that brushes against them. I approached the plant to photograph it; as I did so, I got excited to see that a little butterfly had the same idea and had only my second sighting so far this year of a perfect little Brown Argus.

Brown Argus Aricia argestis

The poor thing was fighting to stay put in the strong wind and I was struggling to keep my camera lens focussed on it. I was vaguely aware of a small fly sharing the same space on the plant as the butterfly, but was too intent on the matter in hand to pay much heed to it. It was small and yellowish and flitting about a fair bit, but at the time it didn’t click that this might be a fly I’d been hoping to find for the past few years that is a burdock specialist.

Brown Argus & Banded burdock fly

Banded burdock fly-Terellia tussilaginis

It wasn’t until the next day, when I looked at my images properly that I realised this little fly was indeed most likely a Banded burdock fly-Terellia tussilaginis and that I’d almost missed it!

At least it gives me good reason to show more images of the lovely little butterfly.

Brown Argus & Banded burdock fly

I was getting a bit fed up with the wind now but battled on towards the top as I wanted to get an image of the stunning view of Llandudno that you get from this side of the Little Orme headland. It was only when I got there I remembered that I had actually been somewhat sheltered from the full force of the wind! it was still so strong it took my breath away and I had to lean against a rock to brace myself, not only to steady the camera but also myself. Worth it though, what a view!

I didn’t stay to lingeringly admire the view, and was quickly on the way back down to seek a calmer spot. Facing now in the other direction and looking down onto the fields below I had the random sight of a male Pheasant, not a bird I see often. He was looking a bit bedraggled and was clearly limping. Had he been been shot and survived, hit by a car, or even attacked by a fox or dog? Fortunately he seemed still to be able to fly well enough.

Limping pheasant

A little further on I spotted a little splash of blue in the short grass in front of me and much to my surprise here was one of the Reserve’s special treasures – a single stem of the lovely little Spiked Speedwell. This is a plant that is cultivated and grown in gardens, but only grows in the wild in the Breckland grasslands of East Anglia and very locally in Wales and Western England.

Spiked Speedwell-Veronica spicata

A few metres away, standing a little taller, a single flower stem of Dropwort, another specialist of calcareous grassland, this one being bent almost to the ground by the strength of the wind.

Dropwort – Filipendula vulgaris

Hawthorn is one of the few species of tree that is not nibbled by rabbits or sheep in its early stages and that can also withstand exposure to the strong, salt-laden winds the headland is subject to. Most are contorted into weird and wonderful shapes, but this one, although short has grown large and spread fairly evenly.

I met up with the young Robin again on my way back down.

Young Robin

And a beautiful Comma butterfly landed on the bare earth of the track.

Comma

The sheep were where I’d left them, settled down comfortably now for an afternoon siesta in the sunshine.

Looking up from the track below I saw they were still watching me, with definite smug, self-satisfied smiles on their faces.

I was more than happy with my final wildflower tally for this walk, which included (in no particular order!): Common calamint; Common rock-rose; Black horehound; White horehound; Hedge woundwort; Water mint; Lady’s bedstraw; Spiked speedwell; Dropwort; Wild thyme; Common cinquefoil; Centaury; Carline thistle; Goldenrod; Lesser burdock; Common sorrel; Great mullein; Harebell; Perforate St John’s Wort; Wild clematis; Yellow-wort; Wild fennel; Marjoram; Wild carrot; Hemlock; Ragwort; Ploughman’s spikenard; Yarrow

A Windy Wildflower Walk II

27 Sunday Aug 2017

Posted by theresagreen in Butterflies of Wales, calcareous grassland, coastal walks, Nature of Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales, wildflowers on limestone, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

black horehound, common rockrose, harebell, hedge woundwort, Lady's bedstraw, Nature in August, Perforate St John's Wort, speckled wood, water mint, yellow dung fly

August 3rd

Part 2 – Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve -The main track

Onwards and upwards; a flight of shallow stone steps make a steep rocky section of the path a little easier to climb (except when it’s wet & they get a bit slippery).

Pause here to admire the views back down onto the road and the many shades of green of the fields and woodland on its opposite side.

Looking down onto the road into Llandudno

Facing around to the way I’m going, the views to the right of me, seen over a rampant tangle of brambles and wild clematis on the reserve boundary, are extensive and stunning. At once pastoral and contained and wild and open to the elements.

On the other side of the track is the biggest and best patch of harebells that I have seen for years, a truly beautiful sight.

Harebell- Campanula rotundifolia

I can’t resist sitting to watch them being blown and rippled by the wind and am captivated by their charm. For me this little flower has it all. Beautiful in colour and form, they have delicacy and fragility but also great adaptability and resilience to an often hostile environment. Each flower had turned its bell back to the wind to reduce its impact; their slender but tough and wiry stems having the flexibility to bend to the wind, not break. A life lesson in a wildflower!

There were yet more of the little beauties a little higher up on the slope contrasting delightfully in colour and form with frothy lemon-yellow Lady’s bedstraw. I clambered up rather inelegantly to take a closer look. Amongst other plants, these had grown taller and in a more sheltered spot, their bells were turned to the light rather than away from the wind.

Before going back down to the track, I take another look at the glorious view across the bays to the Clwydian Hills and with sheep where they are supposed be.

click to enlarge

Back on track there is a change in ambience and habitat. There are small trees and shrubs on the boundary with the farmland sufficient to cast shade, and the sloping ground on the other side provides a windbreak. The trees are mostly hawthorn, prevalent throughout the headland as its one of the few plants not grazed by sheep or rabbits and again, tough enough to withstand exposure to fierce salty winds.

I spot a movement and see a small Grasshopper jump onto a lichen speckled rock catching dappled sunlight; the perfect place to soak up a little warmth whilst staying camouflaged.

I round a bend in the track and see – sheep! Five naughty trespassing sheep! They are strictly banned from the reserve unless invited in as their indiscriminate grazing may damage or even destroy the rarer wildflowers that grow here. Fencing prevents them wandering into the higher part of the reserve from the rest of the Little Orme where they are not restricted, so I think they got in at this field level, no doubt irresistibly tempted by the sight of the lush long grass over here. I tell them they should return to their field, but can’t see where they may have got through and they pay me no heed anyway, just amble away showing me their bottoms.

I let them get ahead, the last thing I want to do is frighten them and send them scattering and concentrate on the patch of golden flowers I see amongst the long grass on the slope. I thought at first it may be Goldenrod as I’d seen some on the roadside earlier, but soon realised it was a Hypericum – St.John’s Wort.

Another plant with several species that share the same common name, but this is the one I am most familiar with and has all the right features to be Perforate St John’s Wort – Hypericum perforatum.

St John’s Wort-Hypericum perforatum

click to enlarge

Black horehound – Ballota nigra

I apologise, but need to digress a little here to explain the significance of my next plant. Earlier on in the summer a group of NWWT members were treated to a walk around this reserve guided by its manager, Rob and a guest expert botanist, Nigel. It was a brilliant walk on many levels and we learnt a lot about our special flora and its history, about its fauna and the trials and tribulations of modern Reserve management. Typically as on any walk, even guided group ones, I lagged behind snapping interesting stuff and in a rough bramble-and- nettle patch (in the pic above), spotted the plant to the right, which is still going strong. Yet another minty-looking one I didn’t recognise. I took hasty photographs and hurried after the rest of the group. No-one else immediately recognised it either, so Nigel suggested I email the pics to him later on so he could have a better look. From them his best guess was that it was Black Horehound, reservations having been that this was a vigorous, tall specimen of a plant that usually is, in his words, ‘much scruffier-looking’ He also mentioned it smells unpleasant, so this time I had a closer look and bruised and smelt a leaf. It definitely did not smell pleasant and as all its other important bits match the botanical specs, I’m taking that as another one to add to my list of wildflowers-I-will-know-how-to-identify in the future. (Unless anyone has a different idea……?)

It’s amazing what you can see in five minutes along a short shady stretch of track. I watched a dragonfly patrol up and down at speed, pausing only in his labour several times to ‘buzz’ me and let me know I was in his space. I was hoping he’d stop so I could at least see what he was, but no, much too busy. There was yet more mint here, and one I recognised from the distinctive scent of a crushed leaf – this is Water Mint-Mentha aquatic. A similar-looking plant is Corn Mint, but it grows shorter than this and doesn’t have a ‘terminal’ flowerhead (one that crowns the top of the stalk).

Water mint-Mentha aquatica

A fresh-looking Speckled Wood rested on a sun-warmed stone on the path

Speckled Wood

and a Red Admiral flew across to seek out the nectar of bramble flowers

Red Admiral – Vanessa atalanta

There is a farm gate here which I checked for security, but tightly closed there would have been no exit for sheep. Another great Clematis-framed view from here, considerably enhanced by the clouds I think, although they were blocking out the sun at this point.

click to enlarge

At the side of the gate another member of the Lamiceae (mints & dead-nettles) family, this one I know well, the Hedge Woundwort Stachys arvensis.

Yellow Dung Fly – Scathophaga stercoraria

I moved on and round the next bend found evidence I was still on the trail of the errant sheep; a smallish neat and fairly recent deposit of fresh dung. And where there is dung there may be Dung-flies, one of my favourite insects, although I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps because I’m keen on recycling? As I hoped, a single male Yellow Dung Fly had laid claim to the heap of treasure and was intent on guarding it. A bit of a drama then ensued, but I’m saving that for later.

To the top

I had reached the Reserve boundary, marked by a gate through which the two marked ‘Trails’ continue on to cross the rest of the Little Orme headland. There is no marked official track up to the top reaches of the reserve from here though, so getting up there is a matter of a)wanting to; b) paying attention to where you are putting your feet; c)taking care not to slip on damp grass and d) watching out for rabbit holes.

Rock-roses are still fresh and lovely up here, as is the fragrant Lady’s Bedstraw.

I followed the path chosen by the sheep; they almost always know how to find the best way upwards. They were up there now, all standing facing the view. I may have thought they were admiring it, but one of them who seemed to be in charge, maybe the mother of some of them, was bleating loudly, eliciting a response from the field below. Was she calling to her friends telling them about the feast to be had on this side and inviting them over?

Once more I reminded them they were not welcome here, but Mrs Boss Sheep just gave me ‘the look’ that clearly said “mind your own business and what are you doing up here yourself?” Once past them it became more overgrown and not as clear where to head, but I kept going in the general direction of where I wanted to be and hoped for the best. I heard a bird making some squeaky sounds and spotted him as he perched atop a gorse bush, a speckly young Robin beginning to get his adult feathers. I realised this was the first bird I’d seen and heard so far on this walk apart from gulls and the occasional cormorant flying overhead.

I also realised it was lunchtime, so time to find a sheltered spot, take a break and sit and admire the sheep’s-eye view.

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 and Sounds from the Little Orme 1

03 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by theresagreen in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

blackbird, chough, Great tit singing, grey seals, grey seals from the Little Orme, grey seals in Angel Bay, grey seals mating behaviour, phalocrocorax aristotelis, raven, Robin, shag

January 20th – Little Orme, lower level

When the first sound I hear on my approach to the Little Orme is that of a Raven gronking, I take it as an omen that this is going to be a good walk! And so it was today – the old Raven perched high on the edge of the cliff, proclaiming his territorial rights, his distinctive call echoing off the surrounding rock. As yet there were no signs of Fulmars having returned to begin claiming nesting spots on the cliff below him. Notoriously noisy, they too would have been heard before being seen for sure.

Ears being more effective than eyes on this bright winter afternoon, I heard birdsong emanating from a small nearby tree. I didn’t recognise the song at first and with sun shining directly into my eyes, it took a couple of minutes for me to recognise that the singer was a Great tit. I edged slowly towards him, circling to try to reach a point where the sun was less blinding, expecting him to spot me and take off any second, but he was confident and intent on his purpose and chose to ignore me. I was delighted, I don’t recall ever being this close to a singing Great tit before and was impressed by his tuneful renderings.

He was indeed handsome and as the test of a male Great tit’s virility is displayed in the strength of the black markings that run from his throat to his nether regions, this one looks like he’d be quite a catch.

The ground here was frosted and in shaded places the grass was crunchy underfoot, but a pair of blackbirds, feathers fluffed out against the cold had found a more insulated mossy spot and were out hunting worms. I wasn’t sure if the female was deliberately collecting nesting material or if I’d disturbed her whilst probing and the grass had stuck to her bill.

Close by a Robin was singing quietly, almost to itself as it perched low and spied, head cocked, for insect movements on the ground below.

Reaching the cliff edge which overlooks Penrhyn Bay, all I spied was a distant single cormorant. (Well, I assumed it was a cormorant, but a sharp-eyed friend pointed out it was actually a Shag – so really happy about that as I see far fewer of them.)

A closer look shows the Shag has a narrow bill and a steeper forehead than a Cormorant and also lacks the white cheeks patches of the latter. A lesson learned, I will look closer in the future and not make assumptions!

Sitting atop the rocky mound that forms one edge of Angel Bay were a pair of large black birds. One had his back to me, looking out to sea – Ravens, surely? As I approached they flew down almost to the base of the rock.

Feathers gleaming with shades of purple and green they are magnificent birds, but you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that enormous dagger-like bill.

As well as local folk, people come here from miles around in the hope of a sighting of the Grey Seals that have claimed Angel Bay as their own. Today I was one of a small crowd of spectators that were given a real treat; there must have been at least 40 of them ranged along the tide-line the whole length of the little cove.

Perfectly camouflaged to blend with the rocks and pebbles here, it takes a few minutes to get your eye in and work out which shapes are animal and which mineral. I make a total of 20 in the image below.

At first glance there didn’t seem to be much activity other than sleeping going on, but sounds arising and a closer look reveals that here and there things were not entirely tranquil.

Some see rocks as a sun-warmed resting place

while to others they are just obstacles to be overcome; going over the top must be easier than getting someone to move.

These two took to the water, they could be a male and a female as one appears smaller than the other.

They started off peacefully enough,

but things soon started to get a bit rough

and developed into what appeared to be a serious display of aggression or power assertion of some kind. ( I wasn’t entirely off-track here, but it has been pointed out that this was quite likely mating behaviour. I thought that mating happened sooner after the birth of the pups.)

Their interaction was quickly dissipated though when several more seals lumbered from the shore, showing a surprising turn of speed, and entered the water with much deliberate splashing.

Then sped off with purpose, keeping their heads above the water

to check out two kayakers that had paddled into the bay. The guys in the boats must have been thrilled to have had a close encounter with at least eight curious seals.

Back on the shore another pair having a bit of argy-bargy

this time more vocal than physical.

And that is where I left them to get on with their day while I got moving to warm up, with one quick last look over the edge of the cliff from the other side of the bay.

On the far side of the bay I scanned the cliff for any signs that the Ravens may be re-using the nest site that has been occupied for years. There was nothing I could see, but there were plenty of pairs of Jackdaws that seem to have already claimed or reclaimed holes and ledges on the cliff wall. Jackdaws are so numerous here that a black bird of a certain size usually registers subconsciously as such, but again it was hearing different sounds called by a small group of four black birds flying up that alerted me to the presence of the far less common Chough.

More wary than the resident Jackdaws, the presence of Chough, probably visiting from the Great Orme that forms the other side of Llandudno Bay, always takes me by surprise and that is my excuse for failing to get a decent photograph! That and the fact they soon spotted me standing out in the open pointing a long lens at them, so they took off and disappeared over the cliff edge. I have seen and photographed the pair below feeding here before, quite distinctive with all their leg bling, but the one above has none yet. Is that because it’s a young one I wonder? Please tell me if you know.

I couldn’t leave this lower level of the reserve without a nod to a Jackdaw, whose home this really is, so snatched this just before a dog followed by its owner sent him off too.

Catchers, a Duck and Divers

28 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of the seashore, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhos Point, Rhos-on-Sea, The Wales Coast Path, wading birds

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Cormorant, Crows on seashore, gavia stellata, mergus serrator, migrant birds, mussel bed, Oystercatcher, phalacrocorax carbo, red-breasted merganser, red-throated diver, redshank, Rhos Point, ringed plover, sandwich tern

September 10th-A brilliant day for birds continued….

As the tide began to return to the shore, every exposed rock in Penrhyn Bay was occupied by beady-eyed Cormorants.

Black-headed gulls also waited.

It seemed Rhos Point was the place to be for seabirds and waders today. In the time I have lived here I have never seen as many here all at once. I got there an hour or so before high tide, which is one of the best times to get close views of the birds waiting for their evening meal to be delivered. But as there were also such a large number of terns and gulls swimming on the sea’s surface and flying low over it, there must have been fish there drawing them in, perhaps a shoal of small fish, sprats or whitebait¹.

The tideline at Rhos Point was crowded with Herring Gulls, Black-headed gulls and Sandwich Terns. A woman arrived with two dogs and stood and watched as they chased along close to the water’s edge, sending many of the birds skywards. I will resist having a rant about that, but it troubles me that people think it’s OK to allow their dogs to do that.

Whilst waiting to see if the upped birds would return and re-settle I scanned along the sea edge to see what else might be waiting there. There were a whole host of Oystercatchers, trickier to see when their bright orange-red bills are tucked away whilst they rest. A few little Turnstones were dotted amongst them and then a larger bird at the back of this group, fast asleep with its head tucked well down – a duck for sure, maybe a female Red-breasted Merganser? Identifying ducks is not one of my strong points even when I have a good view of them.

Standing in the shallow water were a good number of Redshanks

and more Black-headed gulls.

A few Sandwich Terns were in amongst this group of Redshank, Turnstones & black-headed gulls.

I found only one Ringed Plover, although there could well have been more.

A large number of Sandwich Terns occupied a finger of exposed rocks with a few Oystercatchers and gulls, with many more gulls bobbing around on the surrounding sea.

The Sandwich Terns, here in large number today were noisy and excitable, with groups taking off and settling again in spots a few metres away along the shoreline. Some will remain here for the autumn and winter, but others will move on.

Their association with Black-headed Gulls is one I’ve seen many times.

There’s usually a crow or two waiting for the tide’s incoming feeding opportunities too.

Amongst the multitude of gulls swimming around were several Red-throated Divers – difficult to keep in sight as they dive frequently and disappear just as you think you may have one in focus, but a man close by with a brilliant telescope patiently located them and let me have a close-up look. Still not easy as you can’t predict where they’re going to pop up again, but I managed a couple of spots – what an exciting treat. At one point I thought I may have got lucky with a view of a group of six birds, also swimming and frequently diving and disappearing beneath the surface, but they turned out to be Razorbills, not quite as ‘special’, but still lovely to see.

They separated and mostly stayed too far out to see well without the aid of binoculars or a telescope, but as the tide progressed inwards, so also did one of the birds, allowing me a much better view of it.

As I watched the razorbill, the duck also took to the water.

I’m fairly confident it was a female Red-breasted Merganser. (The female Goosander looks similar but brown colour of head extends around neck leaving just a white chin). On this bird the white of the throat seems to extend down the front of the neck.

¹ Whitebait is a collective term for the immature fry of fish, typically between 25 and 50 millimetres long. Such young fish often travel together in schools along the coast, and move into estuaries and sometimes up rivers.

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

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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!