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Tag Archives: raven

Little Orme Level 1

12 Monday Jun 2017

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

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

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

May 27th

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

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

Harlequin ladybird on Alexanders
Harlequin ladybird on Alexanders
Thick-thighed beetle (f)
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
Painted Lady on red valerian
Small White (f) on valerian leaves
Small White (f) on valerian leaves
Buff-tailed bumblebee on valerian
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
Wild thyme
Mouse-ear Hawkweed
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
Horsetail
Ground Ivy
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
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
Wild cabbage
Bloody Cranesbill
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!

 

 

 

 

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Sights & Sounds of the Little Orme (2)

08 Wednesday Feb 2017

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

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

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

January 20th – Little Orme – Upper reaches

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

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

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

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

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

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(click on image to enlarge)

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

170120-lo-72-gull

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

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

170120-lo-73-a-higher-view-into-the-bayOne of my favourite sights is golden gorse flowering against the background of a blue sea.

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

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

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click on image to enlarge

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

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

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And there is lots of glorious golden fragrant gorse.

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

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click to enlarge

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

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

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170120-lo-100-cormorant-on-cliff-face-1a

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The Great Orme – click to enlarge

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

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

170120-lo-108-great-orme-penmaenmawr

Llandudno Bay, town and beyond – click to enlarge

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

170120-lo-111-stone-blocks-near-summit

170120-lo-112-stone-blocks-at-top-of-orme

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

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

click to enlarge

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

170120-lo-114-hawthorn-tree

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

170120-lo-126-hawthorn-stand

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

170120-lo-127-lichen-covered-hawthorn-twig

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

170120-lo-122-hawthorn-wwith-lichens-sheeps-wool

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

170120-lo-117-raven-flying

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

170120-lo-115-poorly-bunny

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

170120-lo-119-spiders-web-on-gorse-1

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

170120-lo-131-kestrel-looking-out-to-sea

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

170120-lo-138-kestrel-looking-out-to-sea-2

More about Myxomatosis

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

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

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

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

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Sights and Sounds from the Little Orme 1

03 Friday Feb 2017

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

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

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

January 20th – Little Orme, lower level

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

170120-lo-11-great-tit-singing-2

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.

170120-lo-12-blackbird-1

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.

170120-lo-19-blackbird-f-with-grass-in-beak-1

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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170120-lo-17-robin-on-the-ground-1

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.)

170120-lo-2-cormorant-1a

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!

170120-lo-2-shag-on-rock

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.

 

 

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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-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

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 whilst flying

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

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

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 flying sideways

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

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.

150428TGLO-Raven on cliff edge 2

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’.

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Celebrating new lives

26 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, frogs & toads, Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

common frog, house sparrow, kestrel, rabbit, raven

It seems to have been a good year for our local wildlife so far and the following are some of the photographs I have taken of a few new young lives.

Ravens nest early in the year, so firstly here is an image of this year’s Little Orme young one quite well grown but still in the nest at the end of May.

140531TG-Raven young in nest 2-Little Orme

31st May: Young Raven in nest on Little Orme

I was lucky enough to catch up with him/her on the summit of the Bryn a few weeks later, now looking extremely fit and handsome in glossy black plumage.

June: Young Raven on the summit of Bryn Euryn

June 15th: Young Raven on the summit of Bryn Euryn

June: A fine high place with plenty of open sky to practise flying skills

June 15th: A fine high place with plenty of open sky to practise flying skills

Back to May again. Whilst the Raven was still in the nest, a young Kestrel was already out practising their manoeuvring skills over the rocky cliff at the top of the Little Orme. When I spotted it first I thought I’d been fortunate to spot a bird out hunting, but as I got closer it kept up its position and made no attempt to fly away at my approach. I realised then it was a young bird out honing its skills. It was wonderful to be allowed to watch so closely

May 31st

May 31st: Young Kestrel practising hunting techniques above the Little Orme

May 31st: The length of time the bird held its position was impressive

May 31st: The length of time the bird held its position was impressive

May 31st: Swooping and diving

May 31st: Swooping and diving

The Kestrel disappeared over the headland for a few minutes then reappeared flying out over the sea. As it passed where I stood on the cliff edge it looked in my direction. Perhaps to make sure I was still watching and was suitably impressed.

Flying past the cliff edge where I stood

Flying past the cliff edge where I stood

May 31st: Out over the sea, maybe using the gull to focus on

May 31st: Out over the sea, maybe using the gull to focus on

Still on the Little Orme it was apparent there has been a proliferation of cute baby rabbits this year too:

May 31st: Baby rabbit on the Little Orme

May 31st: Baby rabbit on the Little Orme

On the first of July we discovered a Dunnock’s nest in the garden with tiny new chicks with enormous gapes.

July 1st: Hungry baby Dunnocks

July 1st: Hungry baby Dunnocks

Then there was a miniature frog that I just happened to spot struggling through the damp grass on the lawn, possibly heading for nest door’s lovely pond. I caught it in my hand and transferred it to a glass for a few minutes so I could photograph it.

20th July: A tiny froglet

20th July: A tiny froglet

It had no trouble at all climbing to the top of the glass. The froglet was less than an inch (2.5cm) long, but completely perfect.

July 20th: A rare view of the speckled underside

July 20th: A rare view of the speckled underside

I didn’t keep it for long before releasing it back where I found it.

July 20th: Then I let him go again

July 20th: Then I let him go again

Last weekend I sat outside to drink a cup of tea and was kept entertained by a family of House sparrows that had brought their latest brood out for their first outing. The young birds were wobbly and fluttery while trying to perch on twiggy branches of the recently drastically cut privet hedge and still begging their parents for food.

July 20th: A very young House sparrow out for a first outing

July 20th: A very young House sparrow out for a first outing

Dad seemed to be on feeding duty, popping back and forth with bits and pieces.

Dad seemed to be the one in charge of feeding this morning

Dad seemed to be the one in charge of feeding this morning

I caught him feeding one of the offspring with something that I’m sure mum would definitely have disapproved of.

Not quite on target

Not quite on target

Something lurid pink about to be passed on

Something lurid pink about to be passed on

Down the hatch

Down the hatch

Whatever it was, it was certainly sticky. Cake icing maybe?

Whatever it was, it was certainly sticky. Cake icing maybe?

I wonder if the hard working parents will get a rest now?

 

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To the top of the Little Orme ….

25 Saturday Jan 2014

Posted by theresagreen in Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

dunnock, Great Orme, jackdaw, Little Orme, Llandudno, raven, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

January 11th- (after the seal-watch)

The Grey Seals seemed to have put on as much of a show as they were going to for the time being and it was cold sitting on my rocky perch on the cliffside. It was a bright sunny day, but until now the bay had been held in the shade by the bulk of the headland and as the sun was only just beginning to highlight the tallest of the rocks below, it was move on or seize up.

Sunlight highlights the top of a rock

Sunlight highlights the top of a rock

Jackdaws are resident here on the Little Orme and nest colonially up on the cliff above Angel Bay. Outside the breeding season they continue to use the nesting-site as a roost, gathering back there in the late afternoon-early evening, but are a frequent sight throughout the reserve at most times of the day. Sometimes they are on their own or in pairs but often they congregate in small flocks that forage on the flattened grassy clifftop or fly around calling to one another. Like all corvids they are characterful birds with glossy black feathers but are easily distinguished by their grey head and steely ice-blue eyes.

Jackdaw

Jackdaw

In need of some proper exercise I had already decided that the only way was up today, so I turned towards the steep uphill track of ‘Rabbit Hill’. At the bottom a Robin was feeding on the muddy grass and close by in a sheltered spot amongst the shrubbery a Dunnock was enjoying the sunshine.

A dunnock making the most of a sunny spot

A dunnock making the most of a sunny spot

Last summer I was fit enough to walk up here without stopping for breath, but that was then and from past experience I anticipated today’s effort would require a minimum of two stops! Fortunately, when you have a camera in your hand you can stop and turn round and take a photograph as and when necessary, appearing to be capturing the view whilst waiting for your heart to stop pounding.

View from first breath collection point on Rabbit Hill

View from first breath collection point on Rabbit Hill

I love this view, which has Penrhyn Bay immediately below, then Colwyn Bay behind the finger of land that is Rhos Point.

Same view from higher up

It’s even better from higher up

I managed to reach the top of the track with just one more stop, which I would have made anyway (!) to photograph some golden gorse which is already quite well advanced in its flowering.

Gorse in flower

Gorse in flower

Gorse – Ulex europaeus is the first shrub to brighten the winter months with its sunshine-yellow blossom. I love its coconut scent.

A closer look

A closer look

I carried on the uphill track, which was quite damp, muddy and slippery in places. The limestone was not quarried higher up (in case it spoilt the view from the Llandudno side) and forms craggy walls and ridges which are the domain of the Ravens. There was one there today, sitting with his back turned, perhaps soaking up some warmth from the sun. I love to see and hear  the deep, croaking calls of these big black birds up here, their presence makes the place seem wilder, higher and more expansive than it really is.

Ravens often sit with their backs turned

Ravens often sit with their backs turned to the sun

Up nearer the summit is a grassy area where you often encounter grazing sheep, but none today. Looking over the cliff edge here you are seeing the rocky headland on the other side of which is Angel Bay. This is a place favoured by Cormorants at certain times of the year and I was quite disappointed that there wasn’t a single one there today. The most exciting thing I could come up with here today was a mushroom! It was nicely lit by the sun though.

A mushroom, or toadstool

A mushroom, or toadstool

Whatever you see or don’t see here really doesn’t matter once you climb one more short slope and have the full expanse of the view across Llandudno Bay in front of you.

View across the bay to the Great Orme

Panoramic View acround Llandudno bay to the Great Orme (click on picture to get full effect)

The town of Llandudno with its elegant Victorian facade sweeps around the curve of the bay and is sheltered by the bulk of the headland that is the Great Orme.

Foreground is part of the summit of the Little Orme, then beyond the town down the coast the Conwy Estuary, Anglesey and the Menai Strait

In case you’re interested, I’ve put this next photo in that I took from the Great Orme looking towards the Little Orme. This unspoilt side must look similar to how ‘our’ side would have been before it was quarried.

The view from the Great Orme to the Little Orme and beyond

The view from the Great Orme to the Little Orme and beyond

Up here on this side of the headland it was much colder and exposed to the full force of the wind so I didn’t hang around admiring the wonderful views for long, but did turn around to take one last photograph of ‘our’ side of the Little Orme from this higher vantage point before heading back down.

View from the top of the Little Orme across Rhos-on-Sea

View from near the summit of the Little Orme in the Colwyn Bay direction

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Winter treats on the Little Orme

23 Monday Jan 2012

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

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Tags

chough, chough in North Wales, flowering gorse, raven, stonechat

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

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‘But it is the common species that keep the living world ticking over and provide most of our experiences of wildlife, and I would argue that maintaining the abundance of these is as important a conservation priority as maintaining the existence of rarities’. Richard Mabey

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