January on the Bryn

21 Saturday Jan 2023

Posted by theresagreen in Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, North Wales, WALKING

Tags

Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, ferns that stay green in winter, flowering, gorse, hazel catkins, hill walks, January, rhos on sea, walks with views, winter, woodland

As last year was drawing to a close I began thinking about how to go forward with this blog and how I might keep it fresh, interesting and not too repetitive. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that visiting and reporting on what’s happening in the same places year on year still interests me as much as it ever did. Finding things have stayed pretty much the same over a period of time is reassuring, and no matter how often you visit a particular place, there is almost always something new to discover and learn about. Also, in the rapidly-changing times we are experiencing, it’s increasingly important that we notice the ifs, the wheres and the whens of our local everyday wildlife, how it is faring and to note any changes. With that in mind, I set off for my first walk of the year to see what I could find around my local patch on Bryn Euryn.

WOODLAND PATHS

The walk began with a bit of a shock – a sign declaring that the woodland I’ve come to know and enjoy over the past eight years and was about to walk through, is for sale!

It’s not the whole of Bryn Euryn’s woodland that is on offer, but this privately-owned area, which covers a sizeable 10 acres or so, and fronts the Local Nature Reserve, is some of the oldest. There are some lovely big old trees here and it provides nesting and foraging habitat for a good number of species of birds. It’s also the only part of the woodland that has bluebells and wood anemones, both indicators of an old, maybe even ancient wood. In an ideal world, our local council, who own and manage the adjacent nature reserve would take it over, but I suspect the asking price might be too high for them. In this particular area, where there is great demand for property, my fear is that it could potentially be built on.

WOODLAND PATHS

Despite the lack of its green canopy, the woodland is always green to some extent, in every season. There are serious dark evergreen yews and plenty of holly that catches and reflects back beautifully any available light. Tree trunks are clad with the borrowed greenery of ivy, which rapidly races high up almost every available vertical surface, and more that scrambles to cover the ground beneath them.

Several fern species stay green throughout the winter too. Male ferns are fairly frequent, and there’s one spot alongside the path I took today, which has a lovely fresh spread of polypody fern. It suffered badly in last year’s summer heat and drought, but has recovered fully and come back better than I’ve ever seen it. The backs of the fronds are covered with neat clumps of spores, or sori as they are properly known.

There are several species of polypody fern which superficially all look similar, so it’s difficult to be sure which one you’re looking at, unless you’re an expert, which I’m not. Based on a few key points I think this one could be western polypody, Polypody gallii, but I can’t say for sure.

Some ivy berries are ripe, others are not.

At the top of this first rise of the path it meets with two others. At this junction there is a big spreading holly bush and next to it, another less usual evergreen, spurge laurel. This particular plant is getting to a good size now and is just beginning to open its pale lime-green flowers, which are pretty and smell lovely too, should you feel able to get down to their level!

Through the bare branches of the trees, although still sunny here on our side of the valley, low cloud sat over the distant hills and a misty haze hung over the land below.

One of my favourite parts of this path passes between a stand of Scots pines, (known to me on my own mental map as the Pine Grove). Most of the tall, straight trunks of these characterful trees lean to some degree, at a variety of angles, while way overhead, their long limbs bend and twist in the strangest of ways, as though they’ve been frozen mid some strange, swaying waving wind-dance. Sadly, in recent years, several of their fellows have been lost, some brought down in storms and one or two felled as they were in danger of falling.

WOODLAND TRAIL

The path carries on upwards, soon joining up with the Woodland Trail that circuits, and in parts, forms the boundary of the Nature Reserve. About to step onto the trail I stopped as first I heard, then spotted, a small party of blue and long-tailed tits that were foraging in the scrubby vegetation behind the wooden bench. This part of the Trail is one of the best places to see and hear a good variety of the bird species that are resident or migrate here, and several reliably stake territories and nest close by. One of my favourite trees grows here too – a big, rather battered old sessile oak that has lost a few branches, but battles on. Silvery grey in the bright sunlight against a dark blue sky, its limbs lifted skywards, it must surely be enjoying soaking up the warmth? I wonder if the great tits will nest in the cavity of its thick bottom branch again this year?

At this point I almost always hesitate and debate with myself which way to go. Reminding myself that part of my original plan for this walk was to see what, if anything, there was in flower, my best chance of that was to go the most-trodden route and turn left. There’s a small amount of gorse along here that was just beginning to open up a few golden petals, which I’m always happy to see (and smell!), but thus far not a single other stray wildflower, nor even a catkin.

The lack of leaves, flowers, insects and other such distractions leaves space for noticing other things. The sculptural shapes of the trees, the textures of bark and lichen on twigs and branches. The sounds and glimpses of birds; a robin singing or perching, head cocked watching for movement in the leaf-litter below then pouncing down on it. A brief sight of a tree-creeper spiralling up a tree trunk. Tits calling to one another as they scrutinise trees for hidden prey, the gronk of a raven passing overhead. Woodpigeons flying on creaking wings then crashing in to land on the lookout for ripe ivy berries. Then, nearer to where there are houses below, argumentative magpies screeching and crows cawing harshly.

On bright sunny days the leafless trees let through the light and show slices of the views beyond them. The shadows of their trunks and branches create intricate criss-crossed patterns on the ground. The track surface, eroded by the elements and by the traffic of walkers is bumpy, and in places you have to keep your eyes down to avoid tripping up, so although I meant to, I didn’t notice if the line of hazels had catkins; although, to be fair, they would have been above my head height anyway.

The bank between the main trail and the ‘shortcut’ to the field is damp, sometimes even wet, and muddy in all but the driest of weather. Perhaps because of its dampness, it’s a good spot for wildflowers; it’s the only spot I know of in the woods where sweet violets grow. The flowers are white and very often get spattered with mud, but the patch is spreading year on year and odd plants are cropping up nearby too. In a good spring there can be a nice lot of lesser celandines, and later in the year a couple of plants of hedge woundwort. There were new violet leaves amongst the leaf-litter today and on the very wettest part a patch of bright green liverwort.

Taking the shortcut up to the field, I hoped to see or hear a mistle thrush, but no such luck. Near the top of the track I noticed a patch of leaves of Alexanders – it’s range within the site is spreading year on year, perhaps because of seeds being eaten and spread by birds, or perhaps more likely by seeds picked up by, then falling from the soles of walkers’ shoes.

ADDER’S FIELD

The views from this side of the field are always good, but perhaps better now while the trees are bare of leaves. Even after years of living close to coasts, I am always amazed by the depth and intensity of the blues of winter skies and the sea on sunny days.

cherry plum tree – flowers early in the year

A short way from the bottom end of the field grows a cherry plum tree. Once again, as far as I know, this is the only one on the site of the reserve, and I would love to know how it came to be here. Cherry plums are the first of the trees to produce blossom, which comes out during February or early March before the leaves appear. I like to start checking this one early, so I don’t miss it in its glory. It’s a bit early yet, but the flower buds are already beginning to swell, so it won’t be too long.

The field edges are bordered with an interesting mix of plants – mostly prickly ones, including gorse, brambles and a lovely stretch of burnet rose. Later in the year this will be one of the best spots in which to see butterflies and a range of other insects.

I thought I might find one or two unseasonally early- blooming wildflowers here, but I think it’s been too cold lately for even the hardiest of them.

There are fresh leaves though; salad burnet pushing through a layer of leaves and rockrose cushioned against bright green moss.

I loved the contrast of the fluffy seed heads of a sunlit wild clematis – aka the aptly-named old man’s beard or traveller’s joy, with the thorny dog-rose, which still has a few over-ripe hips clinging to it.

Flitting around the oaks at the top of the field, a small party of blue and long-tailed tits, maybe the same ones I saw earlier, maybe not.

As I said earlier, the majority of the deciduous trees have lost all of their leaves, but every year there are one or two small oaks that hang on to theirs throughout the winter.

Trails meet at the top end of the field and as I wanted to continue to go up, I turned right to join the Summit Trail. Here too gorse is beginning to flower and the spiky bushes are studded with golden buds.

On the opposite side of the track bronzed bracken and the dried stems and seedheads of hemp agrimony still stand.

SUMMIT TRAIL

The track rises quite steeply through shady woodland for some way, then leads out into the light and open space at the top of a limestone cliff revealing this amazing view, which surely no-one could ever tire of. Here you can see the A55 Expressway snaking along the valley towards the mountains, with a glimpse of the river Conwy in front of them. The village of Mochdre is to the left, and the the not-so-lovely, but necessary recycling centre, which with some irony is located adjacent to the crematorium.

The grass and scrubby vegetation that provided great habitat for butterflies, bees and other insects back in the summer has been cut down, but should soon begin to grow up again.

On an exposed limestone rockface I found lichens and cushiony moss and growing from cracks, the pretty fern called wall rue Asplenium ruta muraria.

At the summit there were people practising flying a drone accompanied by their big dog, which bounded over and stood barking at me. People that know me well will know my thoughts on this (!) I’m not afraid of dogs, but it did make me nervous- you never can tell why they’re actually barking at you – and it took a few minutes before they called it back and put it on a lead. I had wanted to get some photographs from here, but took this one of a very blue Colwyn Bay and quickly moved on.

The long grass and scrubby shrubs at the edge of the hillside going down from the summit has also been cut down. In the summer this is where, hopefully, pretty common spotted orchids will grow and it will become once again the domain of the glorious dark green fritillaries. New trees are growing here, oaks and silver birches, which will eventually extend the woodland, but for now a single Scots pine has the hillside and the views over Rhos on Sea all to itself.

At the bottom of the hill, finally, hazel catkins! This particular tree is usually one of the most reliable I know for producing a consistently good amount of catkins, but as with other hazels on the site it seems to struggle to produce many nuts.

An acrobatic blue tit foraging in a nearby oak tree finished off my walk nicely.

Fine Dining for Crows

02 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by theresagreen in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature of Wales, Promenades, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

Carrion Crow, corvids, rhos on sea, Rhos Point, scavengers, what birds eat

Historically, the Carrion Crow Corvus corone, is one of our most maligned and persecuted birds and the species continues to sustain losses at the hand, or gun, of man. But as one of the cleverest and most adaptable of our birds they continue to thrive despite us. And in common with other resourceful species dependent on their wits and equipped for scavenging, many can be found taking full advantage of our amenities and messy lifestyles. I was reminded of that on a recent walk along the Prom at Rhos on Sea where the rocky shoreline and mussel bed are a regular foraging ground for Crows.

Carrion Crow eating a crab

I noticed a Crow dropping what I assumed was a shellfish onto rocks still exposed by the incoming tide quite close-in below us. (Us being me and my 16 month old grandson snug in his buggy). I’ve watched this fascinating behaviour before, but this was the closest view I’d had. Fumbling for my camera with gloved hands whilst manipulating the pushchair meant I missed getting a shot of the final successful drop, but I was able to watch the bird tuck into his tasty mussel snack.

This was one of three Crows foraging along this rocky stretch, one of which was rummaging amongst the dry seaweed and debris collected on the strand line.

It was working hard to extricate something from amongst the seaweed debris then having tugged it loose, it carried it off to a large rock nearby.

I couldn’t work out what on earth it was, but watching the bird tear off smallish pieces to eat, a piece of old, greasy chip paper came to mind! Even looking more closely at my photographs hasn’t enlightened me, so I’d be interested to hear anyone’s alternative suggestions. Whatever it was the Crow seemed more than happy with it, clamping it to the rock with its feet to make tearing easier.

As I said earlier, there were three Crows foraging more or less together. They seem to be adolescent birds, so could well be siblings from last year’s brood produced by the resident local pair. It wasn’t long before one of the others spotted the potential to share the bounty and, crouching low to the rock, tried to sneak in stealthily.

Going in from the front clearly wasn’t the brightest idea, and it was soon sent packing.

It didn’t give up and soon tried again, this time more assertively. That didn’t work either, it just made the feeder more annoyed and this time the would-be robber was dispatched with cawing and an aerial attack.

Even that wasn’t enough to put it off though and it soon came back again, sneaking up from behind this time.

A determined lunge and a grab with its formidable beak finally secured it a piece of whatever-it-was and it fluttered off to a spot surprisingly close by to enjoy its stolen prize.

I’m sure the snack was all the tastier for not having had to work for it.

I thanked the birds for sharing their mealtime with me and left them to it.

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

Tags

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.

Of a temporary nature

18 Monday Aug 2014

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, coastal wildflowers, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Wildflowers of Wales

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

acorn barnacles, creeping cinquefoil, fat-hen, flowering in August, hedge bindweed, kelp fly, mussel beds, ray's knotgrass, rhos on sea, sea mayweed, sea plantain, seashore walks

Beauty is where you find it and often in the least likely of places, but in nature it may also be fleeting, so needs to be appreciated when the opportunity presents itself. Here are a few images of some things I found beautiful along the way of a short walk I made from home into Rhos-on-Sea village on a windy, sunny-ish morning last week. Some would most definitely not be there if I were to look for them again.

I had set off to see if there was anything interesting to see down on the seashore and walked along the promenade to reach a point from which to access it. The promenade is on a lower level to the road and pavement for a short stretch here and the intervening space between the two is a steep slope covered with grass. This grassy embankment is mowed every now and then, but the times between cuts are often long enough to allow opportunistic weed wildflowers to pop up and bloom and in different seasons I have spotted a good variety of species here.

Reaching the top of the path leading down to the prom I heard first, then saw a man on a sit-on mower working on the flatter grass verge going in the opposite direction towards Penrhyn Bay. This prompted me to get a move on and have a look to see what might be flowering lower down as it clearly would not be there for much longer.

First to catch my eye was a tangle of white-flowered bindweed. Generally similar to the large flowered bindweed that abounds in waste places and on road verges, as well as being the bane of many a gardener’s life, this was the smaller-flowered Hedge Bindweed.

Flowers are smaller than those of Large Bindweed

Lower down in the grass there was Creeping Cinquefoil, some of the golden yellow flowers fading around the edges.

Creeping cinquefoil-potentilla reptans

Small flowers attract small insects

There were insects nectaring on most of the available flowers, including bumblebees, hoverflies and various other flies.

I hope they all escaped the blades of the mower that was about two minutes behind me as I took these photographs. I’m glad I got there when I did, otherwise I would not have seen the flowers at all.

The tide was turning and beginning its journey back into the shore and although I could see and hear a lot of birds out on the tide-line, including curlew, redshank & oystercatcher, they were way too far away to see properly.

View across the mussel bed from the shore. (click for a bigger image)

With or without the added interest of birds though, I can meander contentedly along this rocky seashore at any time, finding the rocks themselves endlessly fascinating.

Perhaps the rounded shapes on this rock were made by molluscs attached to it

Perhaps the rounded shapes on this rock were made by molluscs at one time attached to it

We don’t get much variety in the seashells on the shore here, although not surprisingly there are an awful lot of mussel shells.

Seashell collection amongst the rocks

Textures and patterns in rock with seaweed and periwinkles

Acorn barnacles make a pretty lacy patterns on rocks

Acorn barnacles make pretty lacy patterns on rocks

Rock pool

I spent a few minutes watching a cluster of Kelp Flies, appropriately on a length of brown, leathery Kelp seaweed.These are the insects that fly up if you walk through or even past clumps of dryish seaweed. They are quite tiny, so I thought it might be interesting to have a closer look at one. Not beautiful maybe, unless you are another Kelp Fly, but the wings are nice and they have dainty white feet.

Kelp Fly – Coelopa frigida

So I travelled slowly along and eventually arrived at the sandy beach area next to the small harbour area of the village. The beach is protected by a barrage of more large rocks that has to be surmounted to reach it and as I clambered over them I spotted a colourful splash of flowering plants growing at the back of the building that is now a fishing-tackle shop and kayaking centre. This is not a particularly attractive spot and any wind-blown rubbish from the beach tends to get caught up here, but I have come across some interesting plants here, so is always worth a closer look at.

What had caught my eye today was a large clump of Common Mallow that had found shelter in a corner tight against a wall and was clearly thriving there.

A large Common Mallow plant thrives in a sheltered corner

Another common plant in waste places, especially on sandy soils is Annual Wall-Rocket and there are usually a few of these plants growing around this location.

Annual Wall-Rocket-diplotaxis muralis

A large specimen of Annual Wall-Rocket

There was a large plant of Fat-hen too, and another one right on the edge of the sand just a short way from the sea.

Fat Hen- Chenopodium album

Fat Hen flower spike

Amongst the commoner plants I was pleased to find this Ray’s Knotgrass, an annual plant that is most often found on undisturbed coastal sand and shingle beaches.

Ray’s Knotgrass- Polygonum oxyspermum

The flowers & nut-like fruits of Ray’s Knotgrass

There was Sea Plantain, whose flowers are almost over now.

Sea Plantain-Plantago maritima

Then the prettiest of them all, the lovely Sea Mayweed.

Sea Mayweed-Tripleurospermum inodorum

A clump of Sea Mayweed at the beach edge

Waiting for the tide to turn

19 Sunday Jan 2014

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

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

birds on the seashore, Curlew, dunlin, Oystercatcher, purple sandpiper, rhos on sea, ringed plover, Turnstone, wading birds

Several months and a whole season have come and gone since I posted anything on this blog. It’s been a sad time for me and all of my family as my beloved Dad reached the end of a very long life last September. He was the one that noticed and encouraged my early interests in the nature around us and taught me the names of common wildflowers, butterflies and most particularly birds. He didn’t claim to know everything, but more importantly he gave me the gift of noticing what was there and the encouragement to find information I wanted for myself. He never really got the concept of blogs, or indeed anything to do with computers, but was always interested to hear what I had seen and where I’d been, particularly about the places here in North Wales that he took my sisters and me to spend time in when we were young. Some of those places have remained very special to me and I’m sure that when I visit them, that’s where I’ll always find him.

______________________________________________________________________________

Thank you all for your patience and sticking with me and thank you to new readers that have signed up who must be wondering where I’d disappeared to. While Dad was ill I was spending a lot of time down in my old haunts in Northamptonshire, where my sisters still live, and it was reassuringly familiar and not too greatly changed in the decades I’ve been away. I may do a post or two about our walks there if I am unable to come up with anything more current, but for the time being the so-far mild winter is giving me plenty of opportunity to get out and ideas for posts, starting with this one about the wading birds that are about now on our local rocky seashore.

2nd January 2104

A brilliantly sunny day winkled me out of my cosy shell this morning and I set off, camera to hand to see what I could see from the promenade. I realised I had lost track of the ebb and flow of the tides and had no idea of its current state, so was initially quite disappointed to see that it was fully in and very high. That meant there would be no waders to be seen picking their ways through the rocks that strew the shoreline of Rhos Point pecking and probing the muddy sand in search of food. But I’d made the effort to get myself out and I wasn’t about to go home with nothing, so I thought I’d at least walk for a way for some much-needed exercise and if nothing else there may be a Rock Pipit or two on the rocks or the sea wall. The sea was as blue as the sky and ruffled by what I was feeling as a bitingly cold breeze. I hadn’t walked far when I noticed a largish bird swimming around on the water, meandering randomly and frequently diving and disappearing under the surface for minutes at a time.

Podiceps Cristatus-Great Crested Grebe

Needless to say, I hadn’t picked up my binoculars and couldn’t properly see what I was looking at, even with the assistance of the camera lens, but from its general ‘giz’, and the fact I’ve seen them here in previous years, I decided it was most likely a Great Crested Grebe. It wasn’t alone either, although individuals were spread quite widely apart, at one time I counted ten of them. I could not get a decent image of any one of them though, so this one is a token effort to verify the sighting!

” In winter, Great Crested Grebes show a marked shift from inland waters to the sea, although on the continent large numbers remain on inland lakes, e.g. in Switzerland (Cramp 1977). In normal winters, Britain and Ireland receive birds from continental western Europe. During severe winter weather, birds move through Britain in search of milder conditions either to the west in Ireland, or southwards to France (Lack 1986).” http://jncc.defra.gov.uk/pdf/UKSPA/UKSPA-A6-4B.pdf

High tide- sea flooding steps

I walked quite a distance towards Penrhyn Bay, stopping now and then to try to get a better image of a Grebe. I spotted one a little further in and got a slightly better view from the top of a set of steps that lead down to the beach. You get an idea of how far the water reaches regularly as the bottom treads are worn smooth by the repetitive scouring of salty waves climbing them and retreating with some force.

I wasn’t enjoying walking into the cold wind so I turned around and walked back, but carrying on towards the village. Just past the tiny St. Trillo’s Chapel I caught a glimpse of a bird flying down on to the big rocks below the promenade; a Turnstone. It landed out of eyesight, hidden amongst the huge boulders, but as I searched for it, up it popped onto a rock very close by.

Turnstone-Arenaria interpres

Turnstones are common winter visitors to all our British coasts and gather in the greatest numbers on rocky and stony beaches, as here in Rhos-on-Sea. I was very happy to see it, as they are perhaps my favourite small wading bird, and because they are rarely alone I was confident there would be more to see.

Why stand when you can sit

In previous years I have seen small groups of mixed species of waders on the rocks here, so I was hopeful there would be more to see. I didn’t have to go far before spotting another little group waiting for the tide to turn and leave their lunch, this time Ringed Plover and Dunlin.

Ringed Plovers and Dunlin watching the water

Ringed Plover- Charadrius hiaticula

Ringed Plovers are amongst the most common of our shore birds, although the increase in building in seaside localities and our intrusion onto beaches that were once remote, where they traditionally used to breed, have taken their toll on populations.

Ringed Plovers

A Dunlin & a Turnstone together shows the size difference between them

Dunlin are amongst the smallest of our shore birds. Some are present in Britain all year round, and as with Curlews, they winter on coasts and breed mainly on upland moors. Numbers are swelled when sizeable flocks come for the winter.

Dunlin-Calidris alpina

Dunlin were known to wildfowlers of old by a diverse variety of names, including ox-bird, ploverspage, sea snipe and stint.

Dunlin flying in to land

Dunlin, Ringed Plovers & Turnstones

As I watched them I had to wonder how these birds know when the tide is about to turn? It’s definitely not just a lucky guess! When I first began to watch them they were all quite still and quiet, but then in a heartbeat something changed and they became suddenly more animated. Up till that moment they had ignored the close proximity of people walking and me pointing a camera at them, but now people passing by with a dog or cyclists triggered off the Dunlin and Plovers and theytook off as one in a tight little flock out over the sea towards the harbour breakwater, then looped back, showering down to land a few feet further along the rocks. The Turnstones woke up too and were the first to venture nearer to the water, ready to get down onto the first uncovered patches of sand.

As the tide’s turning became more imminent, Oystercatchers began to arrive. They too had been waiting, but a bit further away on top of the harbour breakwater alongside the herring gulls.

Oystercatchers lined up along the harbour breakwater

Most of the Oystercatchers headed straight out to the far end of the Point, but a few chose to join the Turnstones, Dunlins and Plovers. Oystercatchers are the most numerous and conspicuous of the waders here and are a familiar sight on the mussel beds, on the rocky shorelines and in small groups flying low across the sea. They are noisy and gregarious and wonderful, but usually some distance away, so it was lovely to get this opportunity to see them more closely for a while.

Oystercatcher flying in to land

Oystercatcher about to land

Landed and waiting for the perfect moment to begin the hunt for food

Joined by another

The shrill calls of the Oystercatchers often ring out from where they spend most of their time feeding or as they fly, but I hadn’t realised they also use it to greet other birds. I watched and listened, fascinated, as a pair performed a little greeting ritual in front of me.

A noisy and demonstrative reunion

Their performance reminded me of the Herring Gull pair that raised their family on our roof last year and involved ‘bowing’ to one another, beaks open and pointed towards the ground whilst emitting their shrill call, rather ear-piercing at this distance. I am assuming they were a mating pair, and that is something else that is mind boggling; how on earth do they recognise one another in a crowd?

Turnstones are the first of the small waders onto the shore

The magical moment arrived when the sea had retreated just enough to expose small patches of the seabed. The larger Oystercatchers were first in, followed closely by the Turnstones, then the smaller Dunlin and Ringed Plovers, once they were confident they wouldn’t be caught out by a rogue returning wave with nowhere to run to.

The tide comes in and goes out quickly and by the time I turned to walk back much of the rocky shore of the Point was revealed and already heavily sprinkled with Oystercatchers.

Oystercatchers as I most often see them, spread out at the far end of the seashore

I hadn’t noticed any Curlew fly in, but hearing one I looked more closely and caught sight of one that had just picked up something to eat, very closely observed by a couple of Oystercatchers, who are certainly not averse to stealing should another take its eye off its prize.

A supremely well-camouglaged Curlew with food-Oystercatchers homing in

A curlew with food watched by Oystercatchers

The Curlew watched closely by Oystercatchers

*Missing from today’s tally of waders were Redshank, and Purple Sandpipers that I have seen previously together with Turnstones, Dunlin & Plovers. Click on link to post with more photographs.

Purple Sandpiper-Calidris maritima (January 2012)

And to finish, a young herring gull, to show they are often where they are supposed to be!

Juvenile herring gull

There’s a new gull on the roof

20 Thursday Jun 2013

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

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Tags

herring gull, herring gull chick, herring gulls in towns, rhos on sea

Herring Gulls have featured in a good few of my posts: they are a characterful part of everyday life here in Rhos-on-Sea and although they make noisy neighbours, are somewhat bossy and seem to delight in covering our cars with their guano, life would be the poorer without them.

A couple of weeks ago, on June 8th to be exact, I was woken at some ridiculously early hour by a great cacophony of gull cries and shrieks being made right outside the bedroom window, which is just a metre above the large flat roof of the kitchen below. I am fairly used to their late spring-early summer, very early- morning territorial proclaiming racket now, but this was not the usual wake-up alarm, which I have learned to almost ignore, so I had to get up to have a look.

The fuss was all about a single, fluffy brown-grey speckled chick. How it arrived on our roof I have no idea, I know there are nesting birds somewhere up on the main roof around next-door’s chimneys, but as far as I am aware there were no nests on any part of the lower flat roofs this year. So, had it fallen from a nest higher up, or even been carried down? If the former, was it OK? I had no way of knowing, just one more thing to worry about! (We have had young gulls here before, but bigger older ones that had left nests deliberately).

8 June 2013-Warning – New parent, very protective

Although early in the morning it was already very sunny and the parent birds ‘parked’ the chick in the shade of one of the ‘lanterns’ set into the roof. That possibly explained why they were on our bit, neither neighbour has any shaded areas, although still no clue as to how the chick got there.

Parent watching the sky for trouble

The fussing, flapping and general hullabaloo continued for some while, but gradually the ruffled feathers smoothed and the excitement mellowed into an uneasy peace.

Once their offspring was settled, one parent stayed on close guard, the female I think, whilst the other either went off to look for food or maybe to sit higher up on the main roof to keep look out. The one that stayed remained wary, keeping a watchful eye on the sky above and patrolling around her chick. She did settle next to it eventually, but was very restless.

The mother settled eventually, but remained alert

Then of course, once she settled down, the chick woke up and stood to stretch its legs. That came as a relief, at least it wasn’t injured and about to expire.

Chick awake and stretching its legs, mother still watching the sky

The chick was soon keen to investigate the world around him and went for a little wander. Fortunately it chose to wander onto the adjoining next-door roof which is covered with mossy lichen and he was pretty well camouflaged there.

8/6/13 On the adjoining next-door roof, the chick was almost perfectly camouflaged

After a surprisingly short length of time the parent flew off and left the chick to its own devices, although as I said before it’s possible the other one was watching from above. And food has to be searched for.

Mum back with breakfast

The adult gulls were very aware of my interest in them and stood immediately in front of the window squawking and giving me distinctly threatening looks.

The female gull watching me, giving me the evil eye.

Female Herring Gulls are slightly smaller than the males and have a ‘softer’ look to the eyes (usually), but I’m glad I had glass between us, I would not like to make her angry and be within striking distance of that beak. (All of my photographs are taken through the glass of the window!)

I would not like to be on the receiving end of that beak

13th June

Gull life settled into a bit of a routine over the following few days. The family doesn’t spend the nights on our roof and I can’t see where they go, but they arrive back noisily in the mornings. The chick gets left alone a lot, initially resting in the shade and relative safety of one or other of the lanterns, but now it is bigger it wanders more, investigating anything and everything that looks vaguely edible. The parents are diligent in their feeding, arriving back with regular meals, their arrival always announced with a great deal of vocal noise and exaggerated wing flapping. The young one is already beginning to practice the territorial, concerted squawking, joining in with its parents when they perform to whatever is above them. Herring Gulls are proper drama queens.

13/6/13-One week on and the chick is getting bolder. Checking out a cable to see if it’s edible

13/6/13-Herring Gull chick one week later.

Bryn Euryn walk continued: Part 3

08 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by theresagreen in Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, Wildflowers of Wales

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Tags

Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, cowslip, early purple orchid, orchis mascula, primula veris, rhos on sea, views from Bryn Euryn, wildflowers of Bryn Euryn

The views from the Bryn are always worth the steep climb up to the top and change according to the season, the weather and the time of day. The southerly side overlooks part of Rhos-on-Sea and part of Colwyn Bay town, divided by the duel-carriageway of the A55, whose traffic noise can be loud and rather intrusive, so not the spot to seek peace and quiet. Beyond is Colwyn Bay and inland a patchwork of woodlands, golden gorse and neat farmed fields set upon rolling hillsides sloping around and down to the Conwy river and estuary.

Panoramic view from the south of the summit of Bryn Euryn

The gorgeous view from the south side of Bryn Euryn (click to enlarge)

I was heading now towards the true summit, where the not-too-beautiful triangulation (trig) point marks the highest point.

The trig point on the summit of Bryn Euryn looking south-south-easterly (ish)

The trig point on the summit of Bryn Euryn looking south to south-easterly (ish)

Last year there was an impressive patch of at least a hundred Early Purple Orchids on the approaching grassy slope (behind the other side of the rocky bit in the photograph), but this year although there are still a good number there are a lot less. Having said that, those I saw are beautiful specimens, of good height and their stems thick with flowers. The success of Orchids is affected by seasonal weather, they are affected by drought, numbers may vary even in areas they otherwise frequent, which is part of their allure of course.Their less than predictable appearance and their wonderfully exotic beauty combine to make each discovery just as exciting as it was last year or the year before.

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I can still remember the excitement of discovering my first Early Purple Orchid, growing exactly where it should be, on the floor of the old woodland next to our house. I was probably about aged ten at the time and had no idea what it was, but it looked very special to me and I couldn’t wait to look it up in my ‘Observer’s Book of Wild Flowers’, which I still treasure because I love the descriptions written by the lady author of the book. I would quote it here but it’s currently in a box in a storage unit in Spain, so I’ll have to manage without for now.

Early Purple Orchid – Orchis mascula

Early Purple Orchids-Orchis mascula

In flower from April to June, the Early Purple Orchid is a species of old broadleaved woodlands, where they are generally widespread, but they also occur in rich grasslands, on road verges, on limestone pavement and on heathy ground in the South and West of the British Isles.

‘Therewith fantastic garlands did she make

Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name’

But our cull-cold maids do dead-men’s fingers call them’.

It is claimed that when William Shakespeare wrote those lines in Hamlet, his ‘long purples’ referred to the Early-purple Orchid. The lines were spoken by Gertrude and referred to the coronet which Ophelia was wearing when she drowned.

A short-medium perennial that can reach 40cm, the stem is also often flushed with purple. There are usually 3-5 unstalked basal leaves, oblong in shape, pointed, parallel-veined and glossy green blotched with purple.

Flower colour can vary in shade from quite a dark purplish-red to pink or even white and are distributed in dense or loose spikes of between 10-30 flowers. Each flower has a narrow purple bract, purplish-grey ovary, three sepals and three petals.

Flowers of Early Purple Orchid

Side sepals spread backwards, upper one joins to the upper two petals to form a hood; lower petal forms tri-lobed spurred crimson-dotted lip, 8-12mm long. At the back of the flower one unstalked anther holds two pollen masses on stalks that adhere to heads of visiting insects for cross-pollination; below the anther the stigma surface receives pollen brought from other flowers.

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A few minutes taking in the view more or less east towards the mountains on the edge of Snowdonia , then onwards and downwards via the grassy slope on the north side of the hill.

The A55 snakes towards the Conwy Estuary with view of Snowdonia beyond

The A55 snakes towards the Conwy River & Estuary with views of Snowdonia beyond

The rough grassy area was, as I’d hoped, generously sprinkled with Cowslips. Not as showy as the Orchids or as bright as the Rockroses, but with a special understated beauty of their own. I was slightly concerned I may have missed them at their best as they are flowers I associate more with late April-early May, but thanks to the late start to Spring this year I caught them just in time before they start to ‘go over’.

A field full of Cowslips, their heads held aloft on stiff stems were dancing in the wind like little flags

Cowslip -Primula veris

I have a great affection for Cowslips and seeing them growing in numbers in a grassy meadow takes me back to my childhood in an instant. In Northamptonshire, where I grew up in the 50s and 60s, lovely golden-yellow cowslips were numerous, particularly in the damper grass meadows grazed by cows. One of life’s little treats back in the day was to pull a flower from its little green sack and suck the nectar from the base of the tube. And before it became necessary to ban the picking of wild flowers, we used to pick bunches of them for the house as they have nice long stems and looked lovely in a jam jar on the kitchen windowsill. We picked them to add to garlands and to decorate the ‘throne’ for the May Queen during our school’s Mayday celebrations. Occasionally we even got to pick lots of them to be made into Cowslip wine.

Cowslip- Primula veris

I assure you though, it wasn’t our picking that caused the Cowslip’s serious decline, we couldn’t possibly have picked even all of those growing in a single field. It had much more to do with the rise of intensive farming and old grassland being ploughed over to create more space for growing other crops.

Thankfully the plant’s numbers are on the rise again, partly due to raised awareness but probably owing more to the sowing of seed on roadside verges and in wildflower meadows. So once again the Cowslip can raise its graceful nodding heads above the grass blades and be counted in generous numbers once again. I won’t be picking any though, just taking photographs.

The leaves of the Cowslip are wrinkly and hairy and form a basal rosette, similar to those of the Primrose.

The yellow-orange flowers (8-15mm) are held in a one-sided umbel which is borne on a softly hairy, sturdy stem. The individual flowers are comprised of five joined petals, each flower bearing orange spots in the centre, and are deliciously scented.

Cowslips and plaintains

A final gaze at the view from here over the tops of the trees below, across the golf course to Penrhyn Bay and on the horizon the Little Orme skirted on its left side by the road to Llandudno climbing Penrhyn Hill.

View from the north side of Bryn Euryn

New gulls on the block

17 Tuesday Jul 2012

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

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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

Farmland fields,rooks, ducks & waders

20 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by theresagreen in Nature, nature photography, wading birds

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Tags

corvus frugilegus, pochard, rhos on sea, rook

On a recent drive back from the supermarket in Llandudno. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and the countryside looked so beautiful I made a couple of stops to take these photographs. I love this time of year when the shape and structure of the fields and the architecture of the trees and hedgerows is visible and highlighted by the bright sunlight.

There is a rookery located in a stand of trees close to the road I was driving along; rooks are early nesters, sometimes having eggs in the nests by the end of February. I was hoping to get a couple of pictures that would show them in some detail to compare against the related carrion crow, but although there were plenty about they were all either flying or foraging in the nearby fields.

Three Rooks flying contrasted against a white cloud

Rook – Corvus frugilegus. The species name frugilegus is Latin for “food-gathering”. The adult rook is the only large black bird with a bare grey/white face patch. They can be told from the similar-looking Carrion Crow by the purplish gloss to its plumage and the baggy appearance of the thigh feathers.

The UK has the largest population of rooks in Europe. They are gregarious throughout the year, characteristically nesting communally in the tops of trees in ‘rookeries’ and collectively known as a ‘parliament’. Nests are built from twigs freshly picked by industrious individuals and are very likely to be plundered by unscrupulous neighbours. There is a distinct ‘pecking order’ in the community; the oldest bird lives at the centre of the rookery, best protected and sheltered from the wind. When the flock is feeding, rook sentries are posted to warn the others when danger threatens.

In folklore they are reputed to be able to predict the weather; rooks feeding in village streets or close to nests in the morning means inclement weather is to come – usually storms or rain. Conversely, rooks flying far from their nest means fair weather.

The presence of a rookery on your land is considered to be lucky in many parts of the country and that should the birds decide to abandon the rookery ill-fortune would befall the family. Rooks used to be told of a landowner’s death. The new landowner would stand under a rookery and give the news, usually adding the promise that only he and his friends would be allowed to shoot the birds in future. If he neglected the ceremony, the birds would desert the rookery – an evil omen in itself. This forecast the loss of the land and downfall of the family through poverty.

A Rook & a wing tip

Passing by the field the curlew occupy I noticed a number of ducks on the water that pools there when it rains. As I already mentioned, it was a very bright sunny day and unfortunately the only vantage point I had from which to photograph the birds involved shooting into the sunlight, rarely a good move, but I wanted to record the sightings. I thought the ducks were Pochard, but could not really see properly. As I watched they left the water and began moving over the grass, heads and beaks down, almost perfectly synchronised. I’m not great at duck identification, so if anyone can tell better from my rather blurry image that they are not pochard, please let me know.

The field opposite the golf course, Llandudno Rd. Herring gulls, Lesser Black-backed gull, grazing Pochard & a Curlew

I had no problem identifying the male shelduck there all alone.

a single male Shelduck making for the water

Redshank

New year nature part 1

15 Sunday Jan 2012

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

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Tags

birds`with brown plumage, blackbird, feeding birds, garden birds, house sparrow, rhos on sea, starling

I’d like to begin by wishing a belated but very sincere happy new year to everyone taking the time and trouble to read this blog. It seems like an age since I posted my last offering, but other commitments, including our daughter’s wedding on Boxing Day and my venturing out of more-or-less retirement back into the world of work for the forthcoming next three months, have taken up much of my time and most of my energy. As a consequence, for the last few months most of my nature watching has been glimpsed through glass, either from the house or the car, but I’m still aware of what’s happening around me, although with less time to record it.

(To avoid confusion I should probably mention at this point that I am back in Rhos-on-Sea, North Wales)

I have been restricted in my freedom to roam thus far, but I thought that I would make that into an opportunity to have a closer look at some of the birds that are conspicuously present, but whose numbers or commonness we tend to take for granted.

The mild winter temperatures we have experienced during the first two weeks of January have given grace to the garden visiting birds to forage for natural food and there have been regular sightings of blackbird, robin, dunnock, house sparrows, great tit and blue tit doing just that. There were also a few visits from a beautiful song thrush earlier in the month, but I haven’t seen it lately. In the nearby trees there are regularly chaffinch, wood pigeon, collared dove,magpie and carrion crow. Then of course there are the herring gulls that regularly patrol the skies on the look out for a snack. They do make you think twice before putting out additional food for the garden birds, so is probably better offered confined to wire hanging feeders.

In the garden at the back of the house I often see two female blackbirds together that I think may be mother and daughter. This is the younger one with more mottled plumage. There is a male around, but I don't see him as often.

Starlings are everywhere, mostly sticking together in small flocks that travel around the area gathering in trees and on rooftops where they perch high on TV ariels and chimney pots. They also frequent the rocks of the breakwaters in the harbour to forage amongst the rocks.

Starlings with an 'ariel' view of the Little Orme

Hanging up a feeder filled with fat balls has given me some lovely close up views of the colourful and complexly marked plumage of individual birds.

The beautiful plumage of a starling feeding in the garden

European Starling – Sturnus vulgaris

Convervation status: Red

Still one of the commonest of UK garden birds, its decline elsewhere makes it a Red List species.

Family – Starlings (Sturnidae)

Smaller than blackbirds, Starlings are neatly shaped birds that have a short tail, a rather pointed head and triangular shaped wings. They appear to be coloured black at a distance, but when seen more closely they are in fact very glossy with an iridescent sheen of purples and greens. In fresh winter plumage they are brown, covered in brilliant white spots.

Their flight is fast and direct and they walk and run confidently on the ground. Noisy and gregarious, starlings spend a lot of the year in flocks.

Food and foraging behaviour

The European Starling is insectivorous, and typically consumes insects including caterpillars and moths, and also spiders. While the consumption of invertebrates is necessary for successful breeding, starlings are omnivorous and can also eat grains, seeds, fruits, nectars, and even rubbish, if the opportunity arises. There are several methods by which they forage for their food; but for the most part, they forage from or near the ground, taking insects from or beneath the surface of the soil by probing with their strong pointed bills. The bird plunges its beak into the ground randomly and repetitively until an insect has been found. Probing is often accompanied by bill gaping, where the bird opens its beak while probing to enlarge a dirt hole or to separate a lump of grass. Generally, starlings prefer foraging amongst short-cropped grasses and are often found between and on top of grazing animals out to pasture.

Starlings are also adept at grabbing invertebrates directly from the air.

Song & calls

The Common Starling is a noisy bird uttering a wide variety of both melodic and mechanical-sounding sounds, including a distinctive “wolf-whistle”. Starlings are mimics, like many of its family.

Songs are more commonly sung by males, although females also sing. Songs consist of a mixture of mimicry, clicks, wheezes, chattering, whistles, rattles, and piping notes. Even when a flock of starlings is completely silent, the synchronized movements of the flock make a distinctive whooshing sound that can be heard hundreds of metres away.

Starlings are resident all year round in the UK, with their population boosted by large numbers of migrants that arrive in autumn to spend the winter here.

As the shorter autumn/winter days draw to an end the birds head for their night-time roosts, gathering together in large numbers. Huge roosts may be found in a variety of locations including reed beds and city centres. In this area they head for the old pier at Colwyn Bay, performing their wonderful aerobatic display nightly and completely free of charge.

House Sparrow -Passer domesticus

House sparrow male

House Sparrows have always held a special place in my heart and I consider myself lucky that in each place I have lived there has been a little colony living alongside us, often literally sharing the building. The local House Sparrow population here seem to be thriving; they had a successful breeding season last year and on several occasions towards the end of last summer I counted up to thirty birds feeding on the berries of the pyracantha hedge. Their plumage also merits a closer look, the shades of brown range from almost black, chocolate and chestnut to creamy white on the male, with females necessarily being restricted to more subtle shades, but still attractively marked.

The male is duller in fresh non-breeding plumage, with buff tips on many feathers. Wear and preening expose bright markings of brown and black, including a throat and chest patch, called a “bib” or a “badge”. This patch is variable in width and general size, and some scientists have suggested that patches signal social status or fitness, although studies have only conclusively shown that patches increase in size with age. In breeding plumage, the male has a grey crown, and is marked with black on its throat and beneath the crown. The cheeks and underparts are pale grey. The female has no black on head or throat, nor a grey crown and its upperparts are streaked with brown. The juvenile is deeper brown, and the white is replaced by buff; the beak is pink to dull yellow.

House Sparrow female

The House Sparrow is a bird of the sparrow family Passeridae, found in most parts of the world occuring naturally in most of Europe, the Mediterranean region, and much of Asia. Its intentional or accidental introductions to many regions, including parts of Australia, Africa, and the Americas, make it the most widely distributed wild bird. A small bird, it has a length of 16 centimetres (6.3 in) and a weight of 24–39.5 grams (0.85–1.39 oz).

The House Sparrow is a very social bird. It is gregarious at all seasons when feeding, often forming flocks with other types of bird. It also roosts communally, its nests are usually grouped together in clumps, and it engages in a number of social activities, such as dust and water bathing, and “social singing”, in which birds call together in bushes. The House Sparrow feeds mostly on the ground, but it flocks in trees and bushes. For the larger part it is sedentary, rarely moving more than a few kilometres. Non-breeding House Sparrows roost in large groups in trees, gathering some time before and calling together.

At feeding stations and nests, females are dominant despite their smaller size

The House Sparrow is strongly associated with human habitations, and can live in urban or rural settings. They have been much persecuted in the past for helping themselves to our domestic crops and their numbers in towns and cities have declined massively. However, the intelligent little birds continue to adapt to our generally messy eating habits as sources of easy pickings and are often found around the areas where food is consumed outside, they inhabit zoos and wildlife parks; others gain access to the inside spaces of supermarkets and some birds have even learned how to operate the automatic doors.

To many people across the world, the House Sparrow is the most familiar wild animal. One of the reasons for the introduction of House Sparrows throughout the world was their association with the European homeland of many immigrants. Often it is regarded as a pest, since it consumes agricultural products and is blamed for the spread of disease to humans and their domestic animals. In most of the world the House Sparrow is not protected by law and attempts to control their numbers still include the trapping, poisoning, or shooting of adults; the destruction of their nests and eggs; or less directly, blocking nest holes and scaring off sparrows with noise, glue, or porcupine wire. However, attempts at the large-scale control of the House Sparrow have failed.

I came across this nature bulletin several years ago when researching the status of house sparrows introduced into other countries and loved it, so am passing it on.