Tag Archives: chough

Little Orme Level 1

12 Monday Jun 2017

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

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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
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 in birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks in Wales, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.)

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Some see rocks as a sun-warmed resting place

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

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

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They started off peacefully enough,

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but things soon started to get a bit rough

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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.)

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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.

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

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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.

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

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this time more vocal than physical.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

 

Winter treats on the Little Orme

23 Monday Jan 2012

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

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10th January - Daisy in the lawn

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

Wood pigeon perched on the frosted roof

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

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

Disgruntled raven

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

Golden gorse in bloom against a background of blue sea

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

a patch of frosted moss

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

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

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

Stonechat - Saxicola torquata

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

Stonechat (m) in ash tree

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

Dunnock