Wintergreens and Birds in the Woods

06 Friday Jan 2017

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, woodland birds

Tags

bird migration, Blue tit, coal tit, ferns that stay green in winter, goldcrest, Great Tit, long-tailed tit, redwing, the importance of ivy, treecreeper, wintergreens

January 2nd – Bryn Euryn

Clear blue skies and frosted grass sparkling in brilliant sunshine were too much to resist, this had to be the perfect day for my first long walk of the New Year. Less than five minutes along my path into the woods I knew this was set to be a slow walk when I stopped to photograph berries on a holly tree. I was surprised to find so many remaining uneaten and noted ripe ones fallen and peppering the ground beneath. If not for that I may well have missed the flock of beautiful redwings that burst from the trees on the steep lower slope of the Bryn, exploding from their cover and rapidly scattering like shot from a gun, targeting branches of trees close by. There were a number of them, but impossible to count as once landed they are really difficult to spot. I was thrilled to see them and to be able to watch them and delighted that I got any photographs at all, so of two, this was the best.

Redwing – Turdus iliacus

I knew there were redwings around as I’d been fortunate enough to see some from my kitchen window on the morning of New Year’s Eve and one a couple of days before that, but I had no idea whether they were just passing through or were here to stay. I’m not certain, but I think they were searching through ivy for ripe berries. Now I am hopeful they will stay for a while, at least while they are finding food.

Ivy berries are in varying stages of ripeness

Polypody fern

The majority of deciduous trees are bare now, but there is much that is green. Here we have our native holly, copious amounts of ivy, yew, a few Scots pines that are a native but that were most probably introduced, and rather a lot of laurel, once much beloved by Victorian gardeners.

At ground level there are ferns, the polypody in the photograph above, and also hart’s tongue and male ferns.

Hart’s tongue & a small male fern

And there’s lots of moss.

Then my reward for wandering slowly and numb fingers on my gloveless right hand, left free to focus and press the shutter button on the camera; suddenly I was surrounded by the joyous energy and excited sounds of a number of small birds. A feeding party, a collective of a variety of species of small woodland birds united in the eternal search for food.

It’s impossible to say who arrived first, I didn’t sense that there were leaders and followers, more that the flock was operating as a single entity arriving at a pre-determined spot with potential for all members. Of course there were blue tits, also great tits and a couple of coal tits.

Blue tit

An encounter with a feeding party of birds is a magical, uplifting and energising experience. The birds themselves exude excitement and energy, seeming to delight in the thrill of being part of a gang.

Coal tit

The enchanting long-tailed tits were there too.

Long-tailed tit

Once arrived they quickly settled to foraging amongst the trees and shrubbery, splitting back into their families or species groups. I would have been happy with the company of just the exuberant tits, but have to admit my attention was stolen from them when I noticed the treecreepers. Often included as members of a feeding party, there were two on a tree in front of me and then another two, closer to the side. What a treat to have that many of these gorgeous little birds so close and not only in range of the camera but with the added bonus of bright sunlight too.

Treecreeper

I lost track of time watching the birds, but they gradually moved away and passing people walking a dog and chatting broke the spell and I too turned to continue my walk. But there was one more little treat to come – two tiny goldcrests, that may or may not have been with the feeding party, were working their way through a small holly bush nearby. I watched them for a good while, but they eluded capture by my camera, they are much too quick especially when trying to contend with foreground vegetation. The shot below was the best one I got!

Goldcrest

Before heading on to the trail around the Bryn I had a look at the view over the boundary fence. The higher peaks of the Carneddau mountains have snow with clouds above them that look to be holding more. The warming sunshine had them shrouded in a light veil of mist, with more rising from the Conwy river in the valley below.

A Brilliant Day for Birds

12 Monday Sep 2016

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature of Wales, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

alca torda, bird migration, Black-headed Gull, coastal birds, Cormorant, gavia stellata, larus ridibundus, Northern Wheatear, oenanthe oenanthe, phalacrocorax carb, razorbill, red-throated diver, saxicola torquata, stonechat

September 10th – Little Orme, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

Taking the old cliff path around to Angel Bay, I disturbed a beautiful fresh(ly) Painted Lady butterfly. It circuited round a bit before settling on a stony patch, pressing its wings tightly against small sun-warmed limestone rocks.

A small crowd of people gathered on the cliff edge above Angel Bay looked promising; maybe there was something exciting to see down there? But alas, no. They were simply chatting and the beach was empty. This convinced me that as I suspected, female seals don’t give birth to their pups here; if they did they would surely be here by now. There were seals here, but only two, both swimming lazily around in the water. On this cool, misty-damp morning I suspect it was warmer in the water than out. One was hanging in the water with just its face above the water, showing off a lovely set of whiskers.

Another was simply cruising around peacefully.

There is a thriving breeding population of Cormorants here on the Little Orme, so there is never a shortage of these brilliant birds to see, especially around their nesting site on the cliffs further around the headland. At this time of year and through the winter months, their numbers are boosted greatly and the steeply sloping cliff face that forms one side of Angel Bay is punctuated with a multitude of black dots and dashes. This is now Cormorant Central; the volume and frequency of arrivals and departures of birds rivalling that of aeroplanes into and out of a busy airport.

I wonder how they work out their perching places? Do early arrivals get the prime spots and do they now have their own patch, or is it up for grabs if they leave to fish for lunch? Do they stick to family or colony groups?

Whilst pondering on the whys and wherefores of Cormorant society, I was distracted by two little shapes down in the Bay – definitely birds but I was, of course, on the wrong side to see them properly. It’s not uncommon to get the occasional Guillemot or Razorbill here once the breeding season is over, so I didn’t really think further than that. Winter-plumaged Red-throated Divers didn’t enter my head at the time, but that is what they were. Birds we get around this coast during the autumn and winter, but most often much further out that you need powerful optical assistance to spot.

I must get back into the habit of taking binoculars out with me instead of relying on my camera’s zoom; sometimes it’s not enough. In this instance a glimpse and a snapshot was all I got anyway; these birds are for once aptly named as they do dive – a lot, reappearing nowhere near where they went under. I walked around to the other side of the rocky hump on the Penrhyn Bay side of the headland as from there you get good uninterrupted views of a wide expanse of sea. Birds fly low past here, keeping close in to the cliff, so some good views of whatever is travelling by; mostly Herring gulls and a few Black-headed gulls today.

Black-headed gull–Larus ridibundus

There was a Cormorant swimming around on the sea’s surface, giving a good view of the strong hooked beak.

A small black and white bird bobbed into view and this really was a Razorbill Alca torda. It was a good way out to sea, but close enough that I could see, through the camera lens, that it was in the process of changing from summer to winter plumage. The plumage of the throat and sides of the neck change from black to white in the winter – the side of this one’s head is still a mix of the two.

It was in no hurry to move away and intent on having a good grooming session.

Members of the Auk family, to which both Razorbills and Puffins belong, look a little like penguins, although they are not closely related. The next few images show some of the similarities between them; species of both have black-and-white colours, an upright posture and share some of their habits.

‘bye ‘bye little Razorbill, thank you for the photographs. Have a good winter.

Now a perfect example of how my mind skips around. Although tuned into ‘bird mode’, I spotted a wild cabbage plant and thought ‘maybe there’ll be a Large White butterfly’s caterpillar on those leaves’. And there was, so a gap in my last-but-one post can be filled in!

I was watching the Razorbill et al for a good half an hour, maybe more, then walked back around the cliff to have a last look around Angel Bay. The seals had gone, but the movement of a smallish bird on the cliff edge caught my eye. Rock Pipit came to mind, but no, it was a much lovelier Northern Wheatear. It was either waiting for the weather to improve or taking in some food before continuing on his long migration back to warmer climes; perhaps both.

Northern Wheatear – Oenanthe oenanthe

I’m not certain whether this was a male or female as when males are in their winter plumage both sexes appear similar. I’m edging towards male as there seems to be a slate-grey patch remaining at the top of the wing. The bird’s common name of ‘Wheatear’ has nothing to do with its food preferences or its ears, but refers to its white rump (i.e white a**e)!

More people arrived at the cliff edge and my bird flew away, down onto the big rocks on the beach.

I began heading in the general direction of the ‘way out’, but hearing a Stonechat nearby diverted to see if I could find it. They’re one of my favourite birds and are often obliging in terms of appearing in the open. I wasn’t disappointed; as I passed by one perched up on top of a bramble, within whose tangled depths a pair have regularly nested.

At first I thought this was an adult female , but as I got a closer look I could see it still has a speckled head, so it’s probably a juvenile of this year’s brood.

Robins were out singing all around the site today, but more wary now of being seen than when they sing in the spring. The one I finally got close enough to photograph was perched on a bracken frond keeping a beady eye out for movements on the ground below, ready to pounce.

Woodland birds on the move

31 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, nature photography, woodland birds

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

bird migration, Black Redstart, blackbird, Chiffchaff, migrant birds, Robin

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

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

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

The male Black Redstart is a very striking bird

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

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

Robin-Erithacus rubecula (Spanish - Petirrojo)

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

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

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

Chiffchaff-Phylloscopus collybita (Spanish-Mosquitero Comun)

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

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

Bird study – Curlew

10 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by theresagreen in Nature, nature photography, wading birds

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

bird camouflage, bird migration, Curlew, curlew folklore, curlew on seashore, Oystercatcher, rhos on sea

An aura of wildness surrounds the curlew perhaps more than any other wading bird. Its onomatopeoic, haunting cries ringing out across the lonely marshes and the tideways it inhabits embody the atmosphere of these often lonely and desolate places.

The curlew is the largest European wading bird, instantly recognisable on winter estuaries or summer moors by its long, downcurved bill, brown upperparts, long legs and evocative call.

Increasing numbers of Curlews have been present on the seashore at Rhos-on-Sea for a few weeks now, but I’ve been waiting to get some reasonable photographs before I wrote about them in more detail. There were several obstacles along the path to obtaining some clear images, not least of which was the fact that they are almost perfectly camouflaged within this rocky landscape, where brown is the predominant colour.

Despite their size, curlews blend perfectly into this landscape

BTO BIRDFACTS:

Curlew Numenius arquata [Linnaeus, 1758]

Order: Charadriiformes	Family: Scolopacidae
Number in Britain: 105 thousand pairs (Summer)
Conservation Status:
UK: AMBER
European: 2 Concern, most in Europe; Declining
Global: Near Threatened ( Details )

Curlews fly fast and low along the sea edge-in flight the white rump is very noticeable

Curlews glide smoothly and quietly through pools of water hunting for small invertebrates

The long curved beak enables the curlew to probe well under rocks

A curlew foraging peacefully alongside an oystercatcher

Breeding

In Great Britain the greatest numbers of breeding curlews are found here in North Wales, but a glance at a field guide will indicate the vast area occupied by the birds. Their range extends from this country east to the Urals and from Scandinavia and Russia in the north. This wide extent of habitats includes upland moors, grassy or boggy open areas in forests and damp grasslands and traditionally managed hayfields particularly in river valleys.

Autumn and winter

Directly after the nesting season the birds shift to marine coastal areas especially favouring mudflats and sands extensively exposed at low tide. Like most waders, at high water curlew form large roosts on either the highest saltings or on fields and marshes behind the sea walls. In some localities the birds move to nocturnal roosting spots at dusk, leaving again at dawn.

The curlew flock numbers several hundred. They roost in this field at the foot of Bryn Euryn, close to houses and a main road. They return at high tide too when they may be seen foraging in the field or standing quietly with their bills tucked under their wings.

When they are not foraging along the seashore here in Rhos-on-Sea the curlew flock surprisingly shares a field with cows, sheep and a couple of horses. Their choice of roost took me by surprise as the field is very close to a busy road, in total contrast to the deserted open spaces they are usually identified with.

When roosting the more dominant curlew tend to occupy the better sheltered areas within the assembly; birds at the front of flocks form closely packed ‘walls’ in high winds.

Coastal numbers build up from July and reach a peak in January and February. The resident UK population is boosted by incoming migrants to some 99,500–125-000 pairs.

Curlew from Scotland spend autumn and winter on the British west coast and in Ireland. Populations from Scandinavia, the former Baltic States and north-west Russia head south-westwards towards this country: each of international importance for wintering curlew, the four localities holding largest numbers are Morecombe Bay, the Solway, the Wash and the Dee. Others, remarkably, winter in Iceland and the Faroes. And yet others penetrate to the West African coast. Curlew are capable of migrating at remarkable altitudes, even crossing the Himalayas at a height of 20,000 feet.

Curlews foraging at sea edge

The Curlew in folklore

The curlew features strongly in folklore, often not too favourably.

To hear a curlew call is not good. If you hear it at night, it means that bad luck is coming, but if heard during the day it signifies the arrival of bad weather.

The curlew has always been a bird of bad omen to sailors who have seen them flying overhead and if you hearing their call means that a storm is brewing and its inadvisable to set sail for the open sea.

St Beuno and the Curlew

It is hard to find the nest of the curlew; this story from the folklore of North Wales, attributed to St Beuno offers an explanation for that.

When he lived at Clynnog St Beuno used to go regularly on Sundays to preach at Llanddwyn, off the coast of Anglesey, walking on the sea with the book of sermons, which he used to carry about with him. One Sunday, as he was coming back from Llanddwyn to Clynnog, treading the surface of the sea as if it had been dry land, he dropped his precious writings into the water, and failed to recover them. The saint was much worried, because even for saints the task of writing sermons is a troublesome one.

When he reached dry land he was much relieved to find his book on a stone out of the reach of the tide,with a curlew mounting guard over it. The pious bird had picked it up, and brought it to safety. Thereupon the holy man knelt down and prayed for the protection and favour of the Creator for the curlew. His
prayer was heard, and ever since it has been extremely difficult to discover where the long-beaked bird lays its eggs.

Turnstones

19 Monday Sep 2011

Posted by theresagreen in wading birds

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Tags

bird migration, birds on the seashore, brown black and white bird with orange legs, migrant birds, rhos-on-sea, small wading birds, Turnstone, turnstone flock

The tide was high this morning when I arrived at the promenade, so I was not expecting to see many birds about foraging on the shore, but I’m happy enough to just watch the sea, so I looked out over the railings anyway . I’m glad I did that, as there beneath me, a whole flock of Turnstones were perched atop the sea-defence boulders immediately below. The birds were either resting quietly or catching up on their preening as they waited for the tide to turn and expose the rock shore once more.

11/9/11- Turnstone dozing

Turnstone-Arenaria interpres

Turnstones are distinctive medium-sized waders. They are high Arctic breeders, and are migratory. They are chunky powerful birds that have strong necks and bills that are well suited to their feeding technique. As the name implies, these species readily turn stones, shells or seaweed looking for hidden invertebrates. They eat insects, crustaceans and molluscs.

11/9/11-Members of the flock were resting or preening their feathers

As the birds were obligingly still, I counted 70 birds in varying sized groups spread along a length of the rocks, but there may have been more below and out of my sight.

11/9/11-The birds' rest was temporarily disturbed by a splashing wave

It would be interesting to know where the birds have come from as these particular birds have not been here for long. Turnstones are present around our coastline for most of the year. Birds from Northern Europe pass through in July and August and again spring, then Canadian and Greenland birds arrive in August and September and remain until April and May. Non-breeding birds may stay through the summer.

11/9/11-Plumage is mottled shades of brown, black, grey and chestnut brown. The head is patterned either brown and white or black and white. Underparts are white. Legs are orange.

Turnstones spend most of their time foraging creeping and fluttering over rocks, picking out food from under stones.

Their appearance is striking in flight, with white patches on the back, wings and tail.

Where to see them

Turnstones are found all around the UK coastline. They are strictly coastal,and are seen on stony, sandy and muddy shores beaches and are often found together with other waders such as Purple Sandpipers. The birds particularly like feeding on rocks covered with seaweed, and will feed along seawalls and jetties.

Northern Wheatears stop-over

18 Sunday Sep 2011

Posted by theresagreen in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature

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Tags

bird migration, birds on rocks, Northern Wheatear, northern wheatear migration, northern wheatear non-breeding plumage, oenanthe oenanthe, penrhyn bay

Summer is definitely on the wane and signs of encroaching autumn are becoming increasingly apparent on an almost daily basis. The hoped-for Indian Summer has yet to arrive and the weather continues to be as unpredictable as ever. It keeps life interesting though and the new season has already brought forth some amazing sightings of birds that threaten to dominate the blog now if I’m not careful. I thought I might feature one particular species of bird every week or so, beginning with the Northern Wheatear as they are clearly on migration now and sightings will probably be sporadic and for a brief time only.

9th September

Walking along the promenade between Rhos-on-Sea and Penrhyn Bay I stopped to watch some Pied Wagtails that were chasing flies along a length of the wall and over the big boulders of the sea defense. I love their agility and grace and could watch them for ages, but today I was distracted from their antics by the presence of a less common visitor, a handsome Northern Wheatear.

9/9/11-A very strongly-coloured individual

The Northern Wheatear or Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) is a small passerine bird that was formerly classed as a member of the thrush family Turdidae, but is now more generally considered to be an Old World flycatcher, Muscicapidae. It is the most widespread member of the wheatear genus Oenanthe in Europe and Asia.

9/9/11-Wheatears are larger than a European Robin at 14.5-16cm in length. Both sexes have a white rump with a black inverted 'T' pattern at the end of the tail.

The Northern Wheatear is a migratory insectivorous species breeding in open stony country in Europe and Asia with footholds in northeastern Canada and Greenland as well as in northwestern Canada and Alaska. It nests in rock crevices and rabbitburrows. All birds winter in Africa.

9/9/11-Wheatears have the typical upright stance of Members of the thrush family

I am more used to seeing these birds in their summer breeding plumage; in Spain they breed in the mountains, and in Wales I have seen them in mainland Pembrokeshire and on Skomer Island,when males and females have been easy to separate. The distinctive plumage of the summer male has grey upperparts, buff throat and black wings and face mask. However, in autumn it resembles the female apart from the black wings. The female is pale brown above and buff below with darker brown wings.

I’m not altogether sure what sex the ones I saw belong to – the difference in the strength of colour on the breasts was quite marked, with some individuals being a very warm pink-orange and others a paler buff-pink.

9/9/11- The Wheatears feed on insects and larvae

The male has a whistling, crackly song. Its call is a typical chat chack noise.

Migration

The birds I am seeing here will be on their return journey to Africa where they will spend the winter, stopping over to take advantage of any available food to fuel the next stage of their journey south.

9/9/11- Glimpsed from this angle, the Wheatear may be confused with a European Robin

The Northern Wheatear makes one of the longest journeys of any small bird, crossing ocean, ice, and desert. It migrates from Sub-Saharan Africa in Spring over a vast area of the northern hemisphere that includes northern and central Asia, Europe, Greenland, Alaska, and parts of Canada. In Autumn all return to Africa, where their ancestors have wintered.

Birds of the large, bright Greenland race, leucorhoa, makes one of the longest transoceanic crossings of any passerine. In spring most migrate along a route (commonly used by waders and waterfowl) from Africa via continental Europe, the British Isles, and Iceland to Greenland. However, autumn sightings from ships suggest that some birds cross the North Atlantic directly from Canada and Greenland to southwest Europe (a distance of up to 2500 km). Birds breeding in eastern Canada are thought to fly from Newfoundland to the Azores (a distance of 1600 km) before flying onwards to Africa. Other populations from western Canada and Alaska migrate by flying over much of Eurasia to Africa.