Waders v Weather

23 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhos Point, The Wales Coast Path, wading birds

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, Curlew, great black-backed gull, Oystercatcher, redshank, Rhos Point, Turnstone, turnstone flock

Colwyn Bay, on the Irish Sea, has big tides and at some high tides water levels can rise by 8 metres or more. On windy days big waves are driven in and as the tide reaches its highest point they crash dramatically, in places causing spray to rise and splash over the sea defences. Regardless of the weather, for the gulls and wading birds that feed here it is business as usual. For people, walking along the promenade on such days can be hard work and exhilarating, but for the birds that feed here on Rhos Point it has to be business as usual and whatever the weather or state of the tide the birds know instinctively exactly when to arrive and depart to best take advantage of fresh deliveries or deposits of food.

Interested to see how the birds responded to challenging conditions, I took these photographs on an exceptionally windy day when the incoming tide was set to be particularly high.

12:51 – Curlews begin to leave.

12:52 – Most of the oystercatchers that feed here don’t travel far, passing the time between the tide-turns gathered together on the rocks of the seabreak in Rhos Harbour, a short flight away. Some linger longer than others.

Herring gull, Oystercatchers, Turnstones and Redshanks

12:53 – A group of Turnstones all facing towards the incoming water

12:54- Big and bulky, Greater Black-backed gulls seem impervious to the rough conditions.

12:57 – This photograph of an adult and juvenile Great Black-backed gulls cries out for a caption doesn’t it? I’m leaving it to your own imaginations though.

12:58 – Turnstones on the sea edge, most standing on stones to keep their feet out of the water.

12:59- Another Curlew leaves, calling to announce its departure.

12:59- Turnstones and Oystercatchers. Interesting that they are all facing towards the incoming water but weren’t actively foraging for food. I think they are all facing into the wind, which would make them more aerodynamic and streamlined so they don’t get blown over.

13:00 –

13:03- Smoothing feathers ruffled by the wind back into place.

13:05 – A Turnstone takes a bath, or is that a jacuzzi?

Turnstone rock- hopping to higher ground

13:07- The Turnstones are more-or-less gathered together now. They are difficult to count as they merge so well into the background of small rocks, but I got up to about 56 individuals and I’m sure there were others behind rocks and one another, so the actual number is probably 60 plus.

13:08- Some Oystercatchers are getting restless, preparing to go while others seem in no hurry

13:12

13:18- As the tide encroaches some begin to leave

But the turnstones stay put, despite the rising water

13:21- A Crow arrives and announces his presence loudly

13:23- Another Oystercatcher is ready for the off.

Some stay and scrutinise the water for any last-minute tidbits

13:25: The Turnstones seem unperturbed by the water rising up around their small rock islands

and are the last birds standing.

13:45- The water has covered the Point.

13:46

Black-headed gulls are the only birds still flying. Low to the surface they seem to positively enjoy the rough conditions.

13:50

13:53 – The bigger gulls are unphased by the rush of the incoming tide and rather than fly away simply allowed themselves to be launched onto the water and rode the waves.

13:54- Wind-driven waves smash onto a flight of concrete steps and shows how high the water would reach if the rip-rap defences were not there; those steps below the middle are worn smooth and their edges rounded by the regular scouring of the waves.

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.

Secret passage behind the sea wall

15 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by theresagreen in birds of the seashore, coastal habitat, coastal walks, coastal wildflowers, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, wading birds, Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales

≈ 4 Comments

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coastal birds, Linnet, migrant birds, Northern Wheatear, penrhyn bay, rhos on sea, Rhos Point, rocky seashores, seashore walks

On a sunny day last week I intended to spend some time checking out the birdlife on Rhos Point to see what treats the autumn migration had already brought to us. I started out on the roadside where there’s a posh new sign on the roadside above the bijou St Trillo’s Chapel, the favoured starting point for many of my seashore posts.

St Trillo’s Chapel, Rhos on Sea

It was windy here and decidedly chilly as it can be when the tide is coming in. A quick look and listen from the promenade revealed a good number of cormorants, gulls, oystercatchers, redshanks and curlews, but all still too far out on the tideline on the mussel bed to see easily.

I picked up a few seashells of some of the most commonly occurring species here.

Despite the sunshine, this was definitely not a day to hang around on the shore, so I turned to walk along to Penrhyn Bay, hoping I might find a Rock Pipit or two amongst the huge rocks of the seabreak.

Fox -and-cubs flowers on the grassy embankment bending in the wind

This view of the Little Orme clearly shows the tiers formed by quarrying.

I soon knew I wasn’t going to enjoy battling along against the cold headwind, so at the earliest opportunity dropped down onto the parapet of the seawall where a passageway is formed between the wall and the seabreak rocks. It was still windy here but not quite as strongly, besides which this passageway fascinates me as a habitat for an ever-increasing collection of plants and at this time of year it can be a good place to spot rock pipits and pied wagtails. And the rocks themselves are endlessly fascinating.

The turquoise green of the vein in the rock above puts me in mind of the verdigris you get on copper. The one below has sparkly white and pink crystal-like parts held within it.

A spider’s web screens a space between rocks

I spotted a bird on the rocks close to these steps and went down to see if I could find it again.

Steps going down to the seashore

I managed a quick shot before it disappeared. Definitely a pipit.

In the winter and in rough windy weather the sea reaches the top of these steps; the bottom few are bleached almost white, their edges smoothed, curved and shaped to form channels by seawater covering them and cascading back down.

Continuing along there’s a stretch that is particularly flowery. There’s a lot of red valerian interspersed with an array of wild plants and garden escapées.

Sea mayweed hugs the curve of the sea wall

Ivy-leaved toadflax

Sunlit fern in a rocky crevice

Marigold escaped from a garden

Tree mallow flower

Penrhyn Bay

Between the breakwater and the rocky shore there is a patch of flowery grass

and behind the rocks scrubby shore plants grow amongst the sand and stone chippings. This is the best place I know for fairly reliable sightings of linnets that come to forage for seeds. There were linnets there when I arrived, which I realised when they all took off and headed off across the road towards the golf course. From past experience I thought if I sat and waited on the steps beneath the sea wall they may well come back. Sitting quietly I realised there were still birds close by that gradually came back into the open in front of me which turned out to be a Northern wheatear and a pipit. I want to say it was a Rock pipit as this is a likely spot to find them, but it had an olive-green tinge to its plumage and may have been a Meadow pipit.

Northern wheatear with pipit

Lovely wheatear though.

As hoped the linnets came back too, a small flock of 10 or 12 birds, albeit too far away to photograph well.

Ravens of the Little Orme

05 Monday Oct 2015

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

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, corvus corax, raven, raven folklore

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

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

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

Raven-Corvus corax

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

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

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

VOICE

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

Raven calling while flying

TERRITORY

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

Raven pair in a favoured spot on the clifftop

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

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

July- Raven looking out to sea

FLIGHT

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

16/9/15-Raven soaring sideways

FOOD

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

NESTING

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

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

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

MYTHOLOGY & FOLKLORE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noisy birds and sleeping seals

09 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Aderyn-Drycin y Graig, coastal birds, fulmar, fulmarus glacialis, grey seals, Little Orme, northern fulmar, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, rock pipit, seals in Angel Bay

This post was inspired by a walk taken last weekend with some lovely people I met for the first time then: Gill who is the chairperson of the Bryn Euryn Users’ Association and her partner Tony who is a ‘proper’ birdwatcher. As well as enjoying their company I also learnt a lot from them both; from Gill it was how the Bryn had evolved into a Local Nature Reserve and some of how its habitats are maintained, which I’m hoping to discover more about in the near future.

Little Orme

Tony reminded me how much I’ve been missing here and I rediscovered that when it comes to spotting birds, particularly when they are faraway dots on a wavy sea, three pairs of eyes are better than one and that a telescope widens the horizons in more ways than one!

Two grey seals swimming in Angel Bay

Firstly though, we had some good sightings of Fulmar which are back at their nest sites on the cliff face. The Raven was up in his favourite spot just above them and Tony showed me their nest site where we saw and heard them both a little later on. We also spent a few minutes hunting for signs of a Black Redstart that was reported being seen here a few weeks ago, but no luck. From the clifftop overlooking Angel Bay there were two Grey Seals swimming and further out to sea there were some great seabirds including numbers of Great Crested Grebe, Red-throated Diver , Guillemot & Razorbill as well as the more easily seen Shags & Cormorants. Walking around the rocky outcrop to the ledge that overlooks Penrhyn Bay and the wider sea, we encountered a Rock Pipit pecking around the grass and rocks, not at all concerned that we were there and presenting an irresistible photo opportunity.

Rock Pipit- Anthus spinoletta

This week I waited for a break in the weather to return to the Little Orme for more viewing and Friday’s sunshine was just what I’d been waiting for. I was particularly keen to see more of the Fulmar so headed in their direction first. The Raven pair were once more sitting up in their favourite spot above the Fulmar site. They are both looking gorgeously fit and healthy, their plumage shining brightly in the sunlight.

The Raven pair gleaming in the sunlight

I counted three pairs of Fulmar here initially, who were later joined by what I think was a single male on a site just around the rock. Some birds were easier to see than others as they have chosen their nests sites carefully to give them some shelter from the elements, and those I’m assuming to be the females were mostly tucked behind a rock or back into clefts in the rock-face.

Fulmar pair on a rock ledge

The birds were noisy; males are definitely proclaiming their territories and there was quite a bit of aerial activity, taking off, swooping around and then landing again with more vocals. The sound has been described as harsh, throaty and machine-gun like.

There were a lot of Jackdaw on the cliffs too and I suspect that much of the Fulmar’s vocalising was aimed at them and they in turn were giving back as good as they got, so it got very noisy at times.

Jackdaws up on the cliff-Wild Cabbage has established up there

There were more of the birds on the cliff-face at the edge of Angel Bay; they were making even more noise, much of it directed at a single bird that was flying around and attempting to land in spots already occupied by pairs of birds. I think there may be 8 pairs in total, which will be easier to establish once they’ve settled down.

FULMAR

Common name: Fulmar or Northern Fulmar; Scientific name: Fulmarus glacialis Welsh name: Aderyn-Drycin y Graig

BTO Conservation Status: AMBER because Recent Breeding Population Decline (1981-2007), Localised Breeding Population

The common name is derived from the Old Norse word ‘full’ meaning foul and ‘mar’ meaning seabird or gull. The foul part refers to the fact that they can spit out a foul-smelling oily fluid to defend their territories from intruders; it’s not all bad though, the oil is also an energy rich food source for chicks and for the adults during their long flights. The glacialis of the scientific name means icy.

They are long-lived, with a lifespan of 40 years not uncommon.

Fulmar sitting on guard

The Fulmar is a bird of the open sea, a ‘tube-nose’ that is a first cousin of the albatross and belonging to the same group of birds as the shearwaters and petrels. They feed at sea on crustaceans, squid, fish, offal and carrion mostly from the surface.To deal with excesses of salt they take in with their food they have a gland located above the nasal tube through which all the bird’s blood is pumped and the salt removed. The salt-laden discharge runs from the tube nose along a groove in the beak and drips off away from the body, keeping plumage clean.

Fulmar glide effortlessly with stiff wings

At first sight Fulmars resemble gulls but seen more closely are distinguished by the shape of their beak which has a tube-shaped proturberance on the top and a thicker neck. They have long, narrow wings and fly low over the sea on stiff wings, with shallow wingbeats, gliding and banking to show its white underparts then grey upperparts.

Head on the Fulmar is sleek and has an almost blade-like profile

At its breeding sites it will fly high up the cliff face, riding the updraughts.

Flying in to land showing underside

Nesting sites are deserted in September and Fulmars are usually absent offshore during October and November. Their absence from the breeding cliffs is short-lived as by late November or early December the birds are back prospecting around the nesting sites.

Both of a pair calling noisily

The nest itself may be nothing more elaborate than a depression in bare rock or a scrape in turf, although they are sometimes lined with a few pebbles. The female lays a single white egg in May, so they’ve a while to go yet.

A quick glance down onto Angel Bay brought a pleasant surprise – a mixed size group of 22 Grey seals. They were very chilled, many of them asleep on their backs; gorgeous.

A mixed group of Grey seals

Many of the seals were asleep on their backs – I love their flippers

I think these were posing for the camera

I think some were posing for the camera

I was a bit worried that one of these appeared to have blood around its head

This one was scratching an itch

These pups were wide awake

A view from the end of the bay includes most of the group

140206-Little Orme 25- Sea crashing onto rocks

Ending with a splash

From blustery beach to sheltered woods

17 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by theresagreen in Colwyn Bay, nature of woodlands, woodland birds

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Tags

blackbird, coal tit, coastal birds, Collared Doves, dunnock, Fairy Glen, herring gull, magpie, wood pigeon

I had driven along to Colwyn Bay to have a closer look at the beach-building, not because I am lazy, more to do with there being a bitterly cold wind blowing with too few compensating warm sunny intervals to make it a pleasant place to be. I did stop for few minutes though and bought a mug of tea from one of the snack shacks to warm me up a bit while I stood perusing the beach, which I’m glad I did. Over the last few days I have spotted a few small flocks of small birds flying in across the sea and there were more as I watched then; finches by their up and down bouncy flight and I’m pretty sure goldfinch by the contact calls they were making. I never have binoculars when I need them, which was a shame today as I also had sights of incoming house martins; fortunately very close ones, so no doubts there. There’s nothing like the first sight of these amazing little migrants, it is always uplifting and hopeful.

As I drank my tea I was entertained by a courting couple of herring gull, both looking bright eyed and beautiful in immaculate plumage and freshly coloured beaks.

Herring gull pair bonding

Female begging for food

She was quite insistent but he was not sharing

A nice pose from the pair showing the difference in sizes

A nice pose from the pair showing the difference in their size

One of the best aspects of living here is that within a very short time and distance you can move into a completely different environment, so as I was close by I headed up to Fairy Glen to seek out some wildlife in the shelter of its trees. As I’ve said before this small local nature reserve within the bounds of Old Colwyn village can be a bit scruffy when viewed through human eyes, but the presence of the fast-flowing stream of water and a well-established variety of trees, shrubs and woodland plants combine to make this the perfect oasis for an impressive number of woodland bird species as well as those that have learned to live amongst people.

First to attract my attention was a Collared Dove that was pottering around on the ground by the side of the river before fluttering down onto a rock to take a drink. There are usually a pair of these pretty doves here, but as there was just the one today I hope the other was sitting on a nest.

A collared dove on a rock in the river

Next to come into view was a pair of magpie, which I had never seen actually within the woodland before. This is another opportunistic bird species that gets bad press and is not much liked by a lot of people, but they are elegant birds, strikingly handsome in appearance and in common with most members of the crow family, clever and characterful.

One of a pair of magpie on the handrail of the walkway

A wary wood pigeon taking a drink

There were numerous blue tits out hunting for food, minutely examining twigs and leaf buds for insects as they do. Blue tits have the inexplicable knack of timing their egg-laying to coincide the hatching of their young with the emergence of caterpillars. This cold but rather dry spring may well have set them back by a few weeks this year; I have only seen one butterfly so far this spring. There were great tits too, in lesser numbers as always, and I was pleased to see a coal tit, always one of my ‘target’ birds here and generally to be spotted in the same spot, close by to where there are a number of large conifer trees, some type of cypress, maybe overgrown leylandii.

A dunnock drying itself off after taking a dip

I heard several birds singing, blackbird, robin and wren most frequently and one short and sweet tune of a dunnock. I spotted a dunnock bathing in shallow water at the edge of the ditch that runs along the side of the footpath and collects run-off water from the high bank above it. It flew into some brambly scrub to dry off and sat for some minutes shaking water from its feathers and preening them back into shape.

There were some wildflowers to be seen, lesser celandines, one or two wood violets, a single stem of kingcups on the boggy part of the riverbank and on a sheltered bank under the trees, the first primroses.

I had been looking out for grey wagtails; I know they have returned as I’ve seen them around the houses in the vicinity of the lower end of the river, so on my way back to the car I walked along the lower end of the river down to where it flows into the sea. Although I was watching for them, the grey wagtails saw me first and took off from the water up and away. At least I saw them, if only briefly. To compensate though I heard a bird ‘singing’ that I didn’t immediately recognise and traced it to a large evergreen tree; I could see several small birds, I think four, that I first took to be blue tits feeding in the top of the adjacent tree, but they and the singer were coal tits.

A coal tit feeding at the top of a tree

I think perhaps my favourite sight of the day though was of crow attempting to pick twigs from a small tree. It was having big problems trying to balance on the slender branches and despite valiant efforts the twigs were too well attached to snap off easily, but fair play to the bird it kept on trying.

The precariously balance crow trying its best to break off a twig

Playing host to some noisy summer visitors

03 Monday Sep 2012

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, Nature, nature photography, Rhos-on-Sea

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, herring gull, herring gull breeding behaviour, herring gull young, herring gulls calling, herring gulls in towns, herring gulls nesting on roofs

The sight and sound of Herring gulls are an integral part of the local community here and as I wrote last year, you either love them or you loathe them. Personally I rather like them, but having just endured this year’s breeding season and had them as very close boarders, I may have gone off them slightly! The Edwardian building we occupy the centre part of played host to two nesting pairs this year, one pair on either side of us, each settling into the top of a tall terracotta chimney pot. I can see the appeal for them, quiet neighbourhood, excellent panoramic penthouse views, just a minute’s flap from the sea, a wide variety of eating opportunities close by. .. Unfortunately from a landlady’s viewpoint, they were not the ideal ‘guests’ and the noise levels were, frankly, unsociable. Stuck in the middle of the two nests sites we were subjected to frequent sessions of raucous territorial shrieking in stereo. Requests to pipe down a bit fell on deaf ears.

Once the offspring hatched the sessions became even more frequent, then reached their peak once the youngsters fledged. That was when they moved down onto our flat roof, which is just below my bedroom window, and really made their presence heard.

A very newly fledged gull, the offspring of pair number two

Herring gulls herald the crack of dawn very loudly, which at the time was around 4.30am, so that’s when I woke up too. They are much louder than cockerels and even less tuneful.

Even persistent rain does not dampen the desire to squawk

The proximity of the gulls definitely disturbed the usual peace of the neighbourhood, but on the positive side it also literally gave me a window into part of their daily lives. I soon realised that the bouts of loud calling are not a random act, the birds use their powerful voices to call to their partners and offspring as well as to declare their possession of a territory and to warn off intruders. As the youngsters grow in confidence and flying ability improves they leave their ‘home’ area to explore, but parents still return there with food and summon them back to eat it.

The adults always called loudly before delivering food to their young, perhaps it stimulates regurgitation?

The adults had a ritual; each time they arrived back with food they began calling loudly, starting off with their heads lowered, then raising them, cranking up the volume until they reached a crescendo with head thrown back and beak opened fully.

You would not want to be on the sharp end of that beak

They are vigilant and attentive parents and deal patiently with harassment by their young ones that persistently beg for food. I’m not sure they are very well versed in nutrition though; ever the opportunists I saw them bring forth a variety of foodstuffs, including french fries, raw chicken, bits of crab and a still-wriggling starfish.

This starfish was definitely fresh, still wriggling in fact

The gulls took time out in the afternoons to rest together, the pair work together to raise their young and appear to be well bonded. Although they would appear to be relaxed, they were ever-vigilant and well aware of the presence of other birds in their airspace, taking it in turns to issue warnings.

The male of the pair starting off vocal proceedings . *note the sunlight show through the thin membrane below his beak

Your turn dear …..

All squawked out

Teaching junior how its done – a family session

A postcard to our summer visitors: “Thank you for an interesting and educational few weeks, but I’m glad you’re no longer here. Perhaps you might enjoy trying a new location next year? I understand the chips are rather good in Llandudno, or how about Rhyl …..?”

New gulls on the block

17 Tuesday Jul 2012

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

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, herring gull, herring gulls in towns, larus argentatus, rhos on sea

I’ve been away quite a bit lately, so there’s quite a bit of catching up to do here in Rhos-on-Sea. The weather here, as everywhere else has not been conducive to venturing far, but I have been able to do some very productive birdwatching from my bedroom window, which I probably would not have done had I been out and about, so some clouds do have silver linings. In this case the silver has been in the shape of Herring Gulls – (the scientific name larus argentatus translates as silver gull). The activity has been brought about by the recent fledging of the single offspring produced by the pair that nested atop our next-door neighbour’s chimney pot.

At first the young gull spent a lot of time resting on the flat roof, where it is surprisingly well camouflaged.

The newly-fledged gull resting

In between bouts of resting it wandered around the rooftop picking at the odd collection of sticks, shells, bones and other random items brought there by its parents hoping to find something edible it may have missed.

First portrait of the new arrival

I don’t need to sit and watch and wait for the parents to arrive with food as both adult and their young one set off such a cacophony of noise at the sight of one another I can hear them from wherever I am in the house. Once a parent lands the youngster automatically adopts the typical crouched, hunched shoulder begging posture that makes it look a bit like a small vulture.

In begging posture

The loud communication between the two birds continues for a minute or so, then the parent allows the young one to approach and finally to tap the red spot on its beak to stimulate the regurgitation of the food it has brought.

The young gull approaching its parent

Getting into position

The young gull taps the red spot on its parent’s beak to stimulate regurgitation of its lunch

What follows is not pretty as the parent brings back whatever food it has managed to find and deposits it in front of its youngster. It seems to be thriving on a diet that does not always look particularly healthy; in the following pictures the meal is raw chicken, but on another occasion it was a pile of french fries. There have also been more natural offerings of crab, which is consumed shell and all and small fish.

The adult regurgitating raw meat, maybe chicken

Fortunately the young gull is not a fussy eater

Once the food has been swallowed by the young one the parent leaves immediately, its departure once more accompanied by more loud cries.

Over the course of the last few days the young gull has gained much in confidence and now flies off to spend much of the day elsewhere, but it is still returning to the high roof in the evenings with its parents and to the flat roof for intervals, maybe to rest where it feels safe.

The young one is gaining in confidence and strength daily

Strangers on and off the shore

30 Monday Jan 2012

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

black-throated diver, coastal birds, dunlin, purple sandpiper, purple sandpiper at rhos-on-sea, red-throated diver, ringed plover, shag, Turnstone

Saturday dawned bright, sunny and very cold, but at least it wasn’t windy. The sunshine encouraged me out to walk and I headed for the beach where I had hoped to take advantage of the clear light and take some shots of the mussel beds that are central to the presence of the wading birds. However, when I reached the end of our road I could see the tide was almost fully in, so that put paid to that idea. The sea was remarkably calm, but it was penetratingly cold and I almost turned around to go back for the car and drive somewhere more sheltered. Then I spotted a couple with telescopes peering out to sea and naturally had to find out what they were looking for. As I approached them I spotted a bird on the rocks, a Rock pipit was foraging along the boulders of the sea-break. It was a lovely healthy-looking bird and getting around quite nimbly despite the fact that the poor thing had lost most of one of its legs.

Rock pipit

Rock pipit, back view

It turned out that the couple with the telescopes were hoping to see divers, although apparently without much luck today. I know many birders enjoy sea-watching and spotting some of the less commonly seen species of sea birds, but as the best sightings are during the colder months and a lot of patience is required to achieve often very distant sightings, it’s not really my cup of tea. I am interested by the fact that it is possible to sight the birds around this coast though, and did a little research into them in the warmth of the house. The following information is from the RSPB website and from that I think the Red-throated diver is the species most likely to be seen offshore here.

Black-throated Diver- Gavia arctica

Family : Divers – (Gaviidae)

Black-throated Diver (RSPB image)-Found on Scottish Highland lochs in summer and around sheltered coasts in winter, and rarely along Irish Sea coasts. Moray Firth and W coast of Scotland best in winter, as well as the NE and SW coasts of England. Sometimes seen at inland reservoirs.

Streamlined diving birds that sit low in the water and dive with consummate ease. On land they are clumsy, barely able to walk with their legs so far back on their bodies. They are easily disturbed when breeding and their vulnerability to marine pollution make them a vulnerable as well as rare breeding species.

Red-throated Diver- Gavia stellata

Family : Divers – (Gaviidae)

Red-throated Diver- Gavia stellata -Outside the breeding season it is numerous along the UK's east coast, and occurs patchily along the west coast, with concentrations off west Scotland and around north-west Wales.

The smallest of the UK’s divers, its grey-brown plumage and up-tilted bill readily distinguish it from the other species. In summer it has a distinctive red throat. They usually jump up to dive and can stay underwater for a minute and a half. They are very ungainly on land, only coming ashore to breed. A recent moderate population decline make them an Amber List species.

Shetland is the UK stronghold for this species with other key populations on Orkney, the Outer Hebrides and the north Scottish mainland. They are also found along the whole of west Scotland south to the Mull of Kintyre. Outside the breeding season it is numerous along the UK’s east coast, and occurs patchily along the west coast, with concentrations off west Scotland and around north-west Wales.

The sea-watching couple had seen a couple of guillemots out at sea and also mentioned a Purple Sandpiper they had spotted on the breakwater rocks, which piqued my interest and sent me off my own ‘twitch’. I walked along the promenade, scouring the rocks in the hope of catching sight of the little Sandpiper, but with no luck. I also paid more attention to the sea and got out my binoculars for a closer look at a distant bird swimming around on the surface. Cormorant-like, but smaller, with yellow patches at the base of its bill and around the eyes and with a distinctive raised crest on its head, it was a Shag – Phalocrocorax aristotelis.

Walking back, another swimming bird, closer to shore this time definitely was neither a cormorant nor a shag. I had no picture in my head then of what a diver looked like, but this was behaving like one, diving frequently and staying under the water for a good while before popping up again. It occurred to me that it was a Great crested Grebe, although I’d never seen one at sea before. It was a delight to watch, swimming around at some speed then diving elegantly. Once it came up almost directly beneath a floating black-headed gull, that was most put out and then just seconds later it dived again and came up with a sizeable fish.

Great crested Grebe- Podiceps cristatis

The Great crested Grebe caught a sizeable fish

It was too cold to stand around for long and my fingers on the camera controls were numb, so I walked back home via the shelter of the neighbouring streets. It’s been a while since I walked that way and I was very surprised by the amount of flowers in bloom in the front gardens. There are already snowdrops, crocus, grape hyacinth, the occasional daffodil and most surprisingly, wallflowers. The weather forecast for next week is not good – overnight frosts, sleet and below-freezing temperatures are not so good for too-early flowers.

An hour in the house with a cup of tea and a sandwich and I’d warmed up enough to venture out again. This time I took the car as I was intending to drive over to the RSPB reserve on the Conwy estuary. (Point of interest: this morning’s sea-watchers had also told me that a firecrest had been ‘twitched’ there earlier in the day.) That was not why I was going there, but anyhow as I approached Rhos village I thought I’d pull over and have a quick look around the harbour beach for the Purple Sandpiper. The winter sunshine had drawn a lot of others out to walk too and I parked in the first available space and took the steps down to the promenade. There, almost right in front of me were a group of small birds peacefully dozing on the rocks waiting for the tide to turn. I recognised the turnstones and ringed plovers immediately, but was not so sure of the identification of the members of the majority of the group. I had to wait for one to stand up and show itself properly to be fairly sure they were dunlin – it was the long bill, slightly decurved at the end that clinched it.

A turnstone, 2 ringed plover and 6 Dunlin on one rock

I was more than happy to those three species together, but things got even better when I realised there were a small number of purple sandpipers tucked in there as well ; fortunately they are much more distinctive and I recognised them with no problem. I saw 3 in total, but there could have been more tucked down lower on the rocks.

Purple Sandpiper close to a dunlin compares their size and plumage; the dunlin is slightly smaller and much lighter in colour

The Purple Sandpiper is usually a strictly coastal wader that visits Britain in the non-breeding season and then flies north to breed during the summer. They are seldom found on sandy beaches but prefer rocky coasts, where they can be seen searching for molluscs and crustaceans among the rocks and rock pools. In the North West They can turn up on any rocky coast from the tip of the Llyn peninsular in North Wales to Morecambe bay in the North. They begin to arrive in October, reaching a peak by November and start to leave again in April. By June, at the latest, they are gone.They are about the same size as a turnstone, with whom they are often seen, and a dark bird overall.

Purple Sandpiper-Calidris maritima

The purple sandpiper is the only small dark wader with yellow/orange legs likely to be seen on rocky shores,frequently in association with turnstones. They have a rather round-shouldered appearance, the wings are very dark grey, the head and back a slightly paler shade and the partially streaked breast an even paler shade. They have a longish beak for their size which is dark grey/black with a yellow or orange base. Their legs appear fairly substantial and are bright yellow or pale orange. In flight they appear very dark with just a faint, narrow white wing-bar and bold white edges on a black/dark grey tail.

Purple sandpiper amongst dunlin & a ringed plover

A purple sandpiper joins another group, showing all 4 species together; dunlin, ringed plover & a turnstone

Dunlin - Calidris alpina

Ringed plover-charadrius hiaticula, in sunlight

2 ringed plover side by side; the one at the back is an adult, the other an immature with no black head band and an incomplete, brownish breast band

The birds were so close to the promenade that quite a few people passing by noticed them; some of whom stopped and asked me to identify the species for them. Perhaps not too surprisingly, it was the attractive Ringed Plovers that aroused the most amount of interest.

Bird Study: Cormorant

24 Monday Oct 2011

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

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, Cormorant, phalacrocorax carbo

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

Cormorant – Phalacrocorax carbo

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

Common name: definitions of ‘Cormorant’

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

The Cormorant's flight is strong and purposeful

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

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

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

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

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

A juvenile Cormorant with partial paler underparts still present.

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

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

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

Cormorants in human culture

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

everyday nature trails

Tag Archives: coastal birds

Waders v Weather

A Brilliant Day for Birds

Secret passage behind the sea wall

Ravens of the Little Orme

Noisy birds and sleeping seals

FULMAR

From blustery beach to sheltered woods

Playing host to some noisy summer visitors

New gulls on the block

Strangers on and off the shore

Bird Study: Cormorant

Cormorant – Phalacrocorax carbo

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Cormorant – Phalacrocorax carbo

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