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.

Blowing Away the Cobwebs

26 Wednesday Jan 2022

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, Conwy, North Wales, Wales Coast Path, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

beachcombing, Carrion Crow, common gull, Llanddulas, mallard, Oystercatcher, seashells, strandline, winter

Wednesday last week started out enticingly clear and sunny, perfect weather for a walk on the coast path to blow away the cobwebs. But, despite knowing full well how changeable the weather can be here on the North Wales coast, I dilly-dallied, doing stuff that could easily have waited till later. By the time I was ready to go it had started to cloud over and there was a strong breeze blowing. But it wasn’t raining and from my window I could see sun shining over the far side of Colwyn Bay, so that’s where I decided to head for.

Llanddulas, with an interesting landscape and mix of habitats, is the perfect place to combine meandering-with-intent and if required, a brisk walk along the coast path, despite its bleakness on days like today. As I pulled in to park my car behind the defensive wall of rip-rap, two hopeful gulls landed on the ground close by, one a black-head gull, the other a herring gull. Even here the local gulls have come to associate cars with people with food, especially since lock-down brought more visitors and subsequently more people in camper-vans.

The river (Afon Dulas)

The river’s water level is low at the moment, giving the opportunity for repairs to made to parts of its banks that have been quite badly eroded. The worst affected spots are those where people regularly leave the path to get down to the water; these spots, already weakened have been further damaged at times when the river level has been higher after storms and heavy rainfall.

Looking downriver towards where the river soon meets the sea there are more eroded areas, one spot on the bend reaches very close to the edge of the coast path.

Crossing the bridge, I stopped to watch three mallards that were heading upstream towards me; a female flanked on either side by two males. They seemed to be in no particular hurry, cruising steadily along paddling against the flow of the river, dabbling as they travelled. The water was surprisingly clear, and though it was rippled and textured by the wind, I could see the ducks’ heads as they searched the riverbed. All are looking very handsome in their bright breeding colours and I wondered about there being two males and one female; mallards start to pair up around October or November, so was one male hoping to entice the female away from the other, or was she torn between the two?

The wind was getting stronger and as it was blowing from the north-west, I could feel it pushing me along as I carried on following the course of the river to where it meets the sea. It was invigorating and all cobwebs were quickly dispatched, and I tried not to think about the walk back against a head-on wind.

The Strandline

At its end, the river is guided to its meeting point with the sea by a great man-made wall of piled rocks and it’s behind that the shoreline becomes accessible.

The tide was just on the point of turning, and the wind was pushing some big waves towards the shore where they crashed and left foamy trails as they receded. There is no shelter from the elements anywhere along this exposed section of the coast and today, even the hardy herring gulls, often here in great numbers, were conspicuous by their absence.

When the tide is in there is no visible sand, so it’s not greatly attractive to people, but this rough stony area of the shoreline is always interesting, both in terms of what plants grow here and what the waves may have carried in and left behind them on the strandline.

The strandline here at Llanddulas is almost always interesting and is a good place to find some of the bigger and tougher shells, although many get damaged by the rocks and stones on the lower shore. A lot of twiggy and small pieces of wood get mixed in with the drifts of seaweed too; some is probably driftwood, but as there are trees on the other edge of the path it’s likely that much of it is from there. Sadly, there’s also usually a lot of plastic waste amongst the treasures, endless metres of fine fishing line that gets tangled into seaweed, discarded wipes, plastic bottle tops and spent shotgun cartridges are some of the most frequently found items. I always pick up what I see and today ended up with at least half a bag full of stuff to put into the rubbish bin, but it’s frustrating knowing there’s a lot more out there that really doesn’t need to be.

The gulls may have been spending their day elsewhere, but there were several carrion crows about. One flew in and landed close to me on the rise of pebbles on the sea edge, perhaps interested to see if I’d found anything edible as I probed in the piles of seaweed.

My activity also caught the interest of a free-running dog that came racing over towards me from the path, taking no notice of its owner’s attempts to call it back. It was a cute dog, but I didn’t want its excited company, and more importantly, I’d spotted a line of resting birds along the sea-edge just ahead of me and didn’t want the the dog to catch sight of them too and race over and disturb them, something that happens all too often here. This time I managed to divert it back towards its owners and the birds were left in peace.

Oystercatcher – welsh Pioden y Môr

Oystercatchers seem, happily, to be maintaining good-sized populations along this coast and Welsh estuaries, but that is not the case generally, as highlighted in this recent post by Graham Appleton:

Over recent decades, numbers of Eurasian Oystercatchers have declined. In 2015 the species was reclassified as “Near Threatened” on the IUCN’s Red List (Birdlife International) and “Vulnerable” within Europe. It is also Amber listed on the UK’s Birds of Conservation Concern list, due to its European status, the concentration of its wintering population in protected sites and the international importance of UK breeding and wintering populations.
When Oystercatchers can’t find food
JANUARY 13, 2022 / GRAHAM APPLETON

Not shells

Moving on, a bit higher up on the beach there was more to see, including pieces of ‘stuff’ that are found blowing around on beaches practically everywhere and some that I’ve only recently become aware of.

On the left of the photograph, a bundle of the dried empty egg-cases of the common whelk.

On the right is a piece of dried almost fabric-like hornwrack. It looks like a dried piece of seaweed, but is actually a colony of animals, meshed tightly together, each animal contained in a little box. When it’s alive, hornwrack grows only during spring and summer, forming bushy clumps attached to shells, stones, cobbles or rocky seabeds and is a pale beige colour.

I first came across a piece of the stuff in this photograph on New Year’s Day whilst out collecting shells with my little granddaughters on Rhos on Sea beach. There was a lot of there and I was intrigued by it, although they both said it was ‘disgusting’! It does look a bit odd, I admit and it feels strange, very light and a bit corky or spongy. It turns out that it is commonly known as dead man’s fingers, which in its life is a soft coral whose scientific name is Alcyonium digitatum, which also references fingers, an indication of how it grows.

It was interesting to find it here too and others have found it on beaches further along the coast, so I wonder if it all originated in the same place, brought in by a recent storm and carried on currents to be washed up in various places?

On a calmer day I might have lingered here longer, but my hands were getting cold and I can’t operate a camera with gloves on. I took them off again to photograph this surprising sight ; the new green leaves of a yellow horned-poppy plant, then headed back over to join the coast path.

Back on the path I deposited my rubbish collection in a bin in front of the café/bar next to the caravan site and carried on, still blown from behind by the wind. This stretch of path towards Pensarn is edged on the sea side by a narrow strip of ground which in the spring and summer months becomes a colourful border full of wildflowers.

Presently, it is largely covered by grass and spiked with tall dried stalks, the remains of last year’s flower stems, but already the bright green leaves of Alexanders are growing strongly.

Watching the sea crashing in against the fortified shore brings home just how powerful it is and how vulnerable to its effects the land is.

In the near distance I could see a few gulls flying around the posts of one of the groynes and although tempted to turn around here, I wondered why they were here when all others were elsewhere. As I got nearer I was more mystified; the gulls were perching on the tops of posts and flying up just as each big wave broke behind them, momentarily covering the post. It was entertaining to watch, almost as though they were playing a game of ‘chicken’ – seeing who could stay the longest before being hit by the rising water.

Common gulls – the perched bird has its first-winter plumage

I couldn’t get close enough to the birds for a really good look, even with a zoom lens, but at least two were definitely common gulls, which we don’t get to see many of; in fact here is the only place I have seen them for myself. These gulls are slightly bigger than a black-headed gull but much smaller than a herring gull. The common gull also has greeny-yellow legs rather than the red of the black-headed gull and the pink ones of a herring gull. The best photograph I managed was of one flying, which shows its bill, finer and more pointed than that of a herring gull and the larger ‘mirrors’ on its wingtips.

My original plan had been to carry on walking to Pensarn beach, but the thought of walking back against the cold and increasingly strong wind from even further away took away my enthusiasm for that and I headed back. As suspected, it was indeed a bracing walk back and I stopped only once for long enough to take a photograph of the view in the direction I was now walking in. I think I’d be a bit concerned if I had one of those mobile homes close to the shore edge.

Note to self: don’t park your car this close to the sea wall on windy days- salt spray is not good for it!

Wintergreens

17 Sunday Jan 2021

Posted by theresagreen in Nature of Wales, North Wales

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

bird behaviour, birds eating ivy berries, blackbird, hedera helix, ivy, ivy berries, January, Nuthatch, winter, wood pigeon, woodland

January arrived quietly this year, bringing with it a mix of winter weather. It’s been consistently pretty cold, with even the mildest days barely rising above 4° C, but we’ve had ethereally misty days, drizzly-rainy days, bright sunny frosty days and even some snow. In between, more than a few days have been dull, sunless and still, the kind of winter days that feel like time’s been suspended and the day somehow never really got started before it was over. But little by little the days are getting longer, and on my restricted Covid-lockdown-exercising-only-from-and-to home-route around my local woods, there are definite signs that spring is not so far away.

A wintergreen path carpeted with shed leaves

The shed leaves of the deciduous trees, mostly oaks, ash and sycamores lie in a thick carpet on the woodland floor and are still covering the less-trodden tracks. Their absence allows through the bright winter sunlight and also highlights the extent of the permanent greenery here; indeed, there’s so much of it you might feel you were in a tropical forest if it wasn’t so cold. There are several species of evergreens contributing to the winter verdure; dark brooding yews, tall twisted Scots pines and masses of shiny holly, all of which are native plants. Then there’s Holm oak (also known as Holly oak or Evergreen oak) and cherry laurel, both non-natives and classed as invasive. But most responsible for creating the jungley ambience and linking everything together, is just one species of plant; ivy. It is quite literally everywhere, covering the ground, clothing tree trunks and forming leafy frames to woodland views.

How ivy affects trees

Although prolific amounts of ivy may look unkempt and alter the appearance of trees, there are some common misconceptions regarding the effect this climbing plant has on them. The first is that ivy kills trees: be assured it doesn’t, and neither is it parasitic. Strong, healthy trees are not adversely affected by ivy; its roots take no nourishment from or through a tree’s bark, and the tree’s leaves don’t allow enough light through for the ivy to grow too vigorously.

It is only when a tree is naturally weakened and begins to die back that ivy will reach into the thinner crown, so ivy doing particularly well in a tree might indicate a tree that is already struggling, but it will not have been the cause of the tree’s sickness. In this instance though, the ivy may make a tree more vulnerable to wind damage; the added bulk of the ivy increases its resistance during high winds and may make it more likely to be blown over, so hastening the tree’s demise.

About ivy

There are two subspecies of ivy that grow in these woods, both of which are native to Britain: these are the climbing Hedera helix ssp. helix and Hedera helix ssp. hibernica, which doesn’t climb, but spreads across the ground.

Ivy is an evergreen, woody climber which can grow to a height of 100ft (30m). The stems have many fibrous, clinging, adhesive-covered roots which help it to climb. Mature older plants develop thick woody stems that can allow them to become self-supporting.

The leaves are dark green and glossy with pale veins. The leaves on non-flowering young plants have 3-5 lobes and a pale underside. On mature plants leaves are oval or heart shaped without lobes, although leaf edges may sometimes be wavy.

Ivy is an essential part of the habitat, providing food and shelter for a diverse range of different organisms.

Being evergreen, ivy provides year-round dense cover for a wide variety of wildlife. During the winter it offers hibernation sites for many insects, which in turn attracts birds that come to forage for them. Butterfly species which survive the winter in their adult form often hibernate in ivy, including the lovely Brimstone, usually amongst the first species on the wing in the spring. Ivy is also the foodplant of the second, or summer generation of the caterpillars of the beautiful little Holly blue butterfly. In late July/August female Holly blues lay their eggs on swelling buds of ivy flowers, which caterpillars burrow into and eat from the inside. Once fully grown they leave the buds and pupate on the underside of Ivy stems where they will overwinter and emerge as an adult butterfly in March/April the following year.

In some instances very dense ivy may provide winter hibernation sites for bats.

One of my favourite woodland birds is the handsome Nuthatch. Although they are colourful, these beautiful birds can be hard to spot when they are foraging around tree trunks and branches, but when they choose to be heard, particularly when singing or crying out in alarm, they have a very loud voice. On a recent walk I traced the whistling sound one was making to an ivy-clad tree a few metres away. Believing itself to be well-concealed I was able to watch it carry an acorn from somewhere around the bottom of the trunk right up to near the top. I momentarily lost sight of it several times as it wove in and out of the ivy, travelling in an erratic kind of spiral up the main trunk, but I managed to follow it disjointedly until it got so high it was making my neck ache to watch it. I couldn’t see if it still had the acorn when it got to the top, it’s quite likely it may have cached it for later consumption somewhere along the way and was foraging for hibernating grubs or caterpillars to eat now.

Perhaps the greatest gifts that ivy gives to wildlife are firstly that it flowers late in the summer or early autumn, providing a bounty of late nectar to a wide range of insects from hoverflies to bees to butterflies. Then following the flowers come generous crops of berries, some of which begin to ripen in the early winter and others slightly later, providing a bountiful progression of nutritious food, lasting through to the spring, which feeds a great many birds, both residents and winter migrants.

The amount of ivy and the resultant bounty of berries it produces are a great draw to two species of birds in particular, Blackbirds and Wood Pigeons. Winter walks are practically guaranteed to be accompanied by a soundtrack of rustlings, flappings and often crashings as birds of both species fly from one ivy vine to another. From the blackbirds there are frequent alarm calls too; there’s a lot of competition for the best berries and they’re worth squabbling over. Neither bird is really purpose-built for the acrobatics required to reach the berries dangling temptingly out of range, but that doesn’t stop them trying. Blackbirds often launch themselves upwards to grab a dangling berry, a rather ungainly method, but who cares if it works?

Wood Pigeons are more ponderous and considered in their approach, eying up the best-looking berries before stepping cautiously towards them, craning their chicken-like necks forward as far as they can and making a grab for them, sometimes losing their balance and flapping madly to restore it.

Ivy berries are loved by other species of birds too, including the song thrush, mistle thrush, redwing, blackbird and blackcap. Although the berries appear in October-November, birds don’t tend to start eating them until later into the winter, shorter-lived berries such as rowan and hawthorn are eaten first, leaving the longer-lasting ivy berries until last. The berries are a great source of protein and, according to the RSPB, gram for gram contain nearly as many calories as a Mars bar! No wonder our local Wood pigeons are looking so plump!

Some Joys of Changeable Weather

11 Monday Feb 2019

Posted by theresagreen in Birds of London, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Public Places

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Palace & Park, ducks and geese, Hornsey, January, mute swan, overwintering birds, pochard, redwing, St Mary's Church Tower, urban wildlife, winter

January 26th-Hornsey

Near the top of Hornsey High Street there are intriguing glimpses of a stone tower seen from the pavement through a screen of tall trees. This is all that remains of St. Mary’s Church, the Parish church of Hornsey.

The tower is a listed Grade 11 building and is within the Hornsey High Street Conservation Area. I think it may be possible to arrange to see inside the Tower; I’d like to do that, I do love old churches.

A sign set into the boundary wall of the tower’s grounds informs that this is a Garden of Remembrance and is a calm little oasis where people and wildlife can take a few minutes away from the busy High Street. It seems to be valued in the community and its gardens are always well-tended.

A quiet walk around the gardens is always a treat and today I made it a diversion on my way to the supermarket. I walked around, stopping to read the information board about the graves and tombs within the grounds.

I hadn’t noticed before that one of the chest tombs is the final resting place of the Morgan family from Bridgend in South Wales. It might seem odd, but this piqued my interest as Bridgend is where my two daughters were born and close to where we lived as a family for 17 years, and now one of my sons lives just around the corner from where they ended up. It might also be of even more interest and relevance to any Morgans out there whose ancestors once lived in Bridgend!

Enjoying a welcome sunny interlude on an otherwise cold day, I turned the corner of the path that leads up to the tower and almost collided with a huge bumblebee! She was a Buff-tailed queen that had flown off from the pretty creamy white flowers of a shrub. I was surprised to see her quite this early in the year; perhaps the sunshine coaxed her out, but did she know she’d find the shrub in flower or was it just an exploratory expedition? I stopped to have a closer look, and to smell the flowers of the shrub: they were gorgeously fragrant. I don’t know what it is, maybe a Sarcocca species? I’m always keen to find plants that are good for early nectar & pollen-seekers. If anyone knows for sure what is, please let me know!

There was another surprise here; a large Eristalis sp. hoverfly was also out and about looking for food and sat for some time on one of the shrub’s flowers.

Also flowering was a Christmas Rose, or Hellebore and there was a light sprinkling of daisies in the grass.

Christmas rose – Hellebore sp.

Daisy

The supermarket is located at the back of the New River Village development, so I walked back along the same gravel path that I’d taken a couple of days ago, but in the opposite direction. I was happy to see a pair of Mute Swans cruising slowly upriver towards me; another common species, but how can anyone not be charmed by their beauty and grace? I loved this image of a young Black-headed gull shadowing a Swan. Perhaps he thought he’d grow up to look like that one day?

Despite their calm and graceful demeanour, Mute Swans may be extremely quarrelsome and will bully smaller species. In the breeding season males stake out a large area of water, and as we witnessed at the end of last year, he defends this territory aggressively against all intruders. They are not entirely without a voice either, despite their name; when angry they hiss and snort and can occasionally manage to trumpet, albeit feebly.

Most of the time though they cruise the waterways peaceably, often in their pairs, stopping frequently to feed on submerged water plants.

January 27th

I was going home today, but before I left there was time for one more walk up to Alexandra Palace, this time with my son and grandson who were both in need of some fresh air. Fresh air was certainly what we got, along with wind and a few showers of hail. This walk was a lot more speedy than my last one.

I didn’t linger on the side of the boating lake, but did spot the all-white duck out swimming with a Mallard drake. Are they a pair I wonder?

I was really pleased to see the Pochard drake out with a female to add to my collection. On my last visit he’d been out on his own.

Pochard female

The texture on the water surface was the effect of wind and hail; the golden highlights were a reflection of one of the moored boats.

This was just hail! Pretty though.

We stopped briefly on the terrace of the Palace where a pair of Magpies were flying about between perches – one settled on the top of a lamppost,

the other on a stone cornice.

Views of the city skyline were slightly better today, but still looming up from mist.

View to Canary Wharf

View of the City Skyscrapers

As we walked back down the hill to reach the pavement alongside Alexandra Palace Way, I spotted a flock of birds foraging on the grass. Beautiful Redwings.

Redwing – Turdus ileucus

The redwing is most often encountered as a winter bird and is the UK’s smallest true thrush. The creamy strip above the eye and orange-red flank patches make it distinctive. In open countryside redwings favour hedges and orchards as well as open, grassy fields. They will come to parks and gardens, particularly in periods of bad weather when snow covers the fields. There were twenty or more birds here and they looked perfectly at ease; not at all concerned by people passing very close to them, or by me taking photographs for that matter.

An unexpected treat and a lovely way to end my visit, despite the wintry weather.

A New River Path to Alexandra Park

09 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by theresagreen in Birds of London, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Public Places, river walks, Walking Trails

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Palace & Park, boating lakes, city parks, ducks and geese, Hornsey, January, London, pochard, suburban wildlife, The New River, tufted duck, urban wildlife, winter

January 24th – Hornsey

I’m in London for a few days to enjoy the company of my littlest grandson (and his mummy and daddy of course). They live in Hornsey, a district of north London in the London Borough of Haringey described by Wikipedia as “an inner-suburban, for the most part residential, area centred 6.2 miles (10 km) north of Charing Cross.” So, conveniently close to the centre of the city, but also well-blessed with easily accessible green spaces within and adjoining it. Close by there’s Alexandra Park, which surrounds the iconic Alexandra Palace, (better known to many as the Ally Pally), part of which is a Local Nature Reserve. There is also the added bonus of water in the form of The New River, which is much quoted as being neither new nor a river, as it’s a man-made waterway opened in 1613 to supply London with fresh drinking water from the river Lea in Hertfordshire. A rather disjointed Path runs the length of the river from its origins in Hertfordshire to its conclusion at New River Head in Islington, a total of 28 miles, two sections of which run through Hornsey.

Today I had a few hours in which to occupy myself, so set off on what has become a familiar and favourite route, taking in a short length of the New River, on through Alexandra Park Local Nature Reserve and up the hill through landscaped parkland surrounding the Palace building to the Boating Lake. There I was hoping to find a couple more species to help towards my aim for this winter of seeing and improving my recognition of ducks. The map above was taken from the info board at the entrance to the river and shows the route – it’s a bit weatherworn and marked with a graffiti ‘tag’, but is still legible. It was a cold day with little breeze, heavy cloud and a lingering mist, which I hope all help bring interest and atmosphere to my photographs!

THE NEW RIVER PATH

The access point to this section of the New River Path is located more or less at the point where Turnpike Lane becomes Hornsey High Street and opposite the junction with Tottenham Lane. The entrance is a sort of kissing gate, which it’s impossible to get through with a buggy, wheelchair or a bike.

400 years after its construction, the New River is still an important source of fresh water for North Water and the Path is open to the public at the discretion of Thames Water, who own it. All sections of the Path are subject to being closed if any maintenance works are being carried out. The Path is not surfaced and gets muddy and slippery in wet weather, so may not look too appealing unless you’re wearing appropriate footwear.

Fortunately there is an alternative path along this stretch of the river on the opposite bank bordering the ‘prestigious’ New River Village development. Views of the river are good from here and you’re less likely to disturb any wildlife that just might be out on the grass bank of the other side. Surfaced with gravel it’s better for walking on too, albeit a bit noisy and ‘crunchy’, but it’s still not ideal for anything with wheels. The access to this path is a little further up the Hornsey High Street, on the same side just beyond the traffic lights. The Path by the river looked wet and muddy, so this is the path I took today.

I wasn’t anticipating seeing anything ‘exotic’ on this walk, but as much of the wildlife is used to the close proximity of people, it’s often possible to get better close-up views than you can in wilder settings. The first birds I heard and glimpsed were Blue tits flitting and calling as they foraged through the trees and shrubbery in the landscaped grounds of the development. Pigeons are numerous throughout this whole area of course, and I couldn’t resist this one with its lovely slate and purple feathers puffed out against the cold perfectly illustrated the mood of the day.

Black-headed gulls are equally as numerous, if not more so. This one, whose head is beginning to show signs of summer plumage coming through, was sitting gazing downriver-

perhaps he found the pair of synchronised diving Mallard as entertaining as I did.

Somewhere near the middle of this section of the Path, a small building spans the river. This is a sluicehouse built in the 1850s as part of the Hornsey Waterworks; it would have been used to control the river’s water levels then, but I don’t know if it’s still in use. More Black-headed gulls sat in a straggly line along a metal fence here.

Sluicehouse

A Moorhen had been foraging on the far bank then dropped back onto the water, paddled across and left it again to patrol along the pipeline that runs the length of the river, where it is exposed to differing degrees. In this shaded spot below an overhanging bramble the water below was icy.

On the other side of the building is a depth gauge, which shows the water to be slightly less than 8 feet deep.

There’s a sign here warning of a ‘sudden drop to water’, with an amusing graphic of a tumbling figure conveying a serious message. It certainly wouldn’t be amusing to be floundering in 8′ of freezing cold water today, especially as the lifebuoy is behind a spiky iron fence on the opposite bank of the river. Another requests that you don’t feed the ducks. I wonder if that’s to protect the ducks or to avoid contaminating the water? More likely the latter as the river is still a main supply of water to North London.

Cold, low-lit misty days like today may not be the most enticing to get you out of the house, but the rewards for making the effort can be great. The ordinary may suddenly become extraordinary. Light on water silvers its surface and the clear cold water captures deep reflections. A light breeze skimming across adds texture broken apart by the passage of jewel-bright dabbling ducks as they swim and dive, creating momentary complex patterns within patterns.

Mallard female

The light catches the red eye of a Coot and brings out the purple in its plumage.

A Canada Goose grazed on bright green grass which is already showing signs of new growth.

Canada Goose – Branta canadensis

I’d reached the end of this section of the river Path now; this look back shows the New River Path on the left bank, the gravelled path I walked along on the right and the sluicehouse spanning the water. The tall old building directly behind it is called Bank Chambers, appropriately as it did used to be a bank and is on the corner of Hornsey Hight Street and Tottenham Lane at the beginning of my walk.

I was standing on the bridge to take this photograph. Looking in the other direction, the river continues on through a fenced-off waterworks compound, where there is also a reservoir. Of course there’s a break in access to the NR Path here, but it can be picked up again further along.

The signpost indicates routes that are Greenways, a Government initiative to encourage the use of “safe, quiet routes through parks, green spaces and lightly trafficked streets. They are designed for walkers and cyclists of all ages and abilities and encourage healthier, more sustainable travel and lifestyle choices. They are ideal for seasoned commuters, novice cyclists, family groups and responsible unaccompanied children”.

From here you get the first glimpses of Alexandra Palace.

The route to the Park passes a reservoir that is part of the Waterworks then around the back of a small housing estate and past a fenced-off Community Garden. From in there I heard the loud, cheerful cheepings, chirpings and chatterings of House Sparrows way before I located them in this leafless tangle of a twiggy shrub. They were so well camouflaged in there I could hardly see them; the level of sound told me there were a lot of them better than my photograph can show.

ALEXANDRA PARK & PALACE LOCAL NATURE RESERVE

The entrance to Alexandra Park Local Nature Reserve. My picture speaks for itself I think; damp, muddy, brown, misty, not much light, pretty much deserted today.

On the enlarged map below I’d come in via Gate 3, which is next to the red dot on the pointy bit on the bottom right. the path I would take then goes around that outside edge, meets Alexandra Palace Way then continues on up around the right-hand side to the Boating Lake.

Staged for full dramatic impact atop a natural platform, the Palace was veiled in mist.

Another flock of Black-headed Gulls hang around on the muddy playing field.

The path winds sinuously onwards. This is often a good place to see small birds; there’s usually a Robin or two and Great and Blue Tits frequent the vegetation to the left of the path. I did hear a Great Tit calling and saw it fly away, but nothing else today.

To the right of the path the land is very often flooded and almost always at least damp and muddy. I don’t know if there is a stream or whether this is just a drainage ditch. Again the water was capturing perfect reflections. The pollarded tree is a Goat Willow, already showing forth the soft silver-grey catkins that give it is other name of Pussy Willow.

There’s fresh new greenery in the water; I couldn’t get near enough to see for sure what the plant was. Perhaps it will be in flower next time I visit.

There was other new greenery; clumps of cow parsley and nettles are both already a couple of inches high. There were Hazel catkins too.

At the end of the path is a charming little building set at the top of a flight of steps. There’s no information close by to tell you what it’s purpose was; I keep trying to find out – curious by nature, I like to know these things! An old ticket office maybe – there is a bricked-up doorway?

At last, a bird! A rather handsome Carrion Crow foraging for worms and any other titbits that may be found on a grassy verge.

ALEXANDRA PARK

I crossed over the road, Alexandra Palace Way, into the parkland surrounding the Palace. The path goes through an avenue of lovely old trees interspersed with elegant cast-iron lampposts, which are all numbered. Those at this end of the path are up into the 200s.

I love these huge old London Plane trees. There was a flock of bright green Ring-necked Parakeets screeching as they flew amongst their high branches, but they were too mobile and too high up for me to catch a photograph. I’d not seen them here before.

Remnants of snow and icy puddles show how cold it was, but walking uphill is a great way to keep warm!

It’s hard to convey the size of some of these trees, but the one below is enormous both in girth and height.

London Plane – Platanus x hispanica

London Planes keep their round woody fruits, which slowly break up over the winter to release their seeds. The seeds don’t have much value as food for birds and are probably only eaten by grey squirrels.

The enclosure to the left in the photograph of the big tree used to be home to a herd of Deer, but is now a climbing adventure park. Apparently an independent vet concluded that “the health of the herd was in slow decline and the animals were displaying symptoms of stress. This can be caused by a number of factors including the size of the enclosed area, proximity to the general public and general noise from the surrounding urban environment. As such the Park is no longer suitable for keeping deer. In the best interests of the deer they are being relocated to two well-respected existing deer parks in Devon, both larger than the enclosure in Alexandra Park, where they will be able to roam free and thrive.” I’m sure they’ll be much happier there.

THE BOATING LAKE

Between the entrance to the Boating Lake area and the Lakeside Café stands this rather handsome statue of a lion. A collar round his neck names him Leo.

Disappointingly the café was closed. In fairness they wouldn’t have had much trade this afternoon as there were very few people about.

The flotilla of brightly painted Swan and Dragon-shaped boats brought colour to the scene, but they weren’t operating either.

The Lake is huge and home to a good number of ducks and I didn’t have long to wait before I had at least one species to add to my afore-mentioned duck-sightings list.

As I’d hoped there were Tufted Ducks. Two drakes and a duck raced towards me, I’m sure hoping or expecting to be fed. There are no information boards showing what species you might here, nor are there any notices about not feeding the ducks or advice as to what food should be offered. Maybe that’s because getting out to feed the ducks is an important part of some people’s days and is often the first experience children have of contact and awareness of our wildlife, particularly in towns and cities. I have fond memories of doing just that with my grandparents in their local park in Northampton. Nowadays in most places, the ducks face stiff competition from the gulls.

Tufted Duck – Aytha fuligula (Drake)

Tufted Ducks have adopted many lakes and ponds in city parks and gardens, and despite being unknown in Great Britain before 1849, the species is now our commonest diving duck. They are often very tame and contend with the Mallards, Coots and Moorhens for any scraps thrown in by visitors.

Tufted Duck (female)

Further back, on the vegetated edge of the lake I spotted the rusty-red head of a Pochard drake, but no sign of a female.

He obligingly swam towards me too.

There are plenty of Coots here. I watched this one pull a twig from beneath the water, probably to investigate eating it, but maybe it’s nest-building already.

A Black-headed gull that came in to have a look was soon sent packing – Coots are very territorial.

This one was a little more serene and perfectly reflected in a patch of still water.

I’m sure you all know that this bird’s bare bright white frontal shield and bill explains the origin of the expression ‘as bald as a Coot’. As I said earlier, male Coots are feisty and territorial squabbles break out frequently between them. Their shields play an important part in displays of aggression when it is held forward, low on the water with wings and body feathers fluffed out behind to look as fearsome as possible. Did you know they also have fabulous, if slightly weird, blue feet?

From a distance I’d assumed the flock of Black-headed gulls were floating on the water, but looking more closely they were actually standing on it- it was frozen! Their clear reflections doubled the apparent size of the flock, but there were a good number of them anyway.

This young Black-headed gull still has some of its adolescent feathers.

I set off to make an anti-clockwise circuit of the lake and was met by a Moorhen walking in the opposite direction foraging for scraps of food.

A grey squirrel scampered towards me and waited hopefully at the bottom of a tree. It was so close I think it would have come and taken food from my hand.

The view of the lake from the opposite far side gives a better impression of its size.

A flock of Pigeons perched up in a tree.

I stopped to smell the flowers of this pretty Viburnum shrub, gorgeous perfume.

Virburnum Bodnantense

They may be common and numerous, but I think our native Mallards are gorgeous-looking ducks; they are certainly colourful. Look at that beautiful emerald head, bright yellow beak and orange legs.

Amongst the Mallards sat this pure white duck, which could well be a throw-back from a past Mallard mating with an Aylesbury duck and creating Khaki Campbells, as I’ve posted about before. It’s the same size and shape as a Mallard but with a more orange bill. Maybe it is just an Aylesbury. I don’t know!

But then again there was another pair close by with a ‘proper-looking’ male Mallard and a very pale brown female with some white feathers around her rump, so it’s possible some inter-breeding of species has occurred at some time.

Canada Geese are much simpler to be sure about.

I’m fond of Moorhens too, which crop up just about anywhere there’s available water. They have bright yellow, chicken-like legs and feet and like Coots they also have a shield at the front of their heads, but that and their bills look to me like they’ve been daubed with sealing wax.

Having made a full circuit I was back in front of the café. Such a shame it was closed. But here I had a sighting that made my day – a Moorhen that from where I stood looked like it was walking on water. Of course it was really walking on ice! I wondered if it could see its own reflection?

as it stopped and stood for a few seconds looking a bit confused

then set off again.

From the Boating Lake I walked over towards the Alexandra Palace building. From the terrace in front of it there are spectacular view over North London to the City skyline. On this misty day I didn’t hold out much hope, but felt I had to look anyway. Walking beneath the trees I heard a Jay screeching as it flitted amongst the branches of a Plane tree.

A pair of Magpies turned over leaf litter hunting for anything edible that may be hiding beneath them. They attracted the attention of two more that flew down to check out what they doing. This provoked quite a feisty response from one of the original pair resulting in the intruders being seen off with much loud harsh scolding and flapping of wings. I hoped this wasn’t parents chasing off their last year’s young ones.

Bulbs had pushed their leaves up through the cold winter ground; they’ll soon be flowering and heralding in the spring.

I reached the Palace terrace, but as I’d suspected there was no view of the City today; the skyscrapers just visible on the left horizon are in Canary Wharf. The still unfinished new Tottenham Hotspur stadium, known locally as ‘The Toilet Bowl’ due to its shape, can also be seen from up here – I’ll point it out on a better day!

I did have a nice view of a turning British Airways plane though.

And I was treated to an eye-level view of a Blue Tit that seemed to be determined to dig something out of hiding in the bark of a cherry tree.

There are several choices of route back, but I opted for the simplest downhill route through the landscaped parkland. The short grassy banks are a favourite feeding place for Wood Pigeons, there were several there today.

Blackbirds rummage around beneath the shrubs and hunt on the lawns for worms.

Blackbird female

A close sighting of a cute little Dunnock prompted my last bird photograph for the day. The daylight hours are getting longer, but days like these remind you there’s still a way to go till winter’s end and a warm home with tea was still a mile or so away!

Dunnock – Prunella modularis

A Bleak Day on the Saltmarsh

14 Monday Jan 2019

Posted by theresagreen in birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Public Places, Nature of Wales, Saltmarsh habitat, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Amber listed birds, Curlew, Glan y Mor Elias Nature Reserve, greenshank, Grey Heron, January, Llanfairfechan, mallard, mute swan, pibydd coeswerdd, redshank, teal, Traeth Lafan, tringa nebularia, tringa totanus, winter

January 5th

Not a great day weather-wise; from my window I could see cloudy grey sky and more than a breeze blowing through the trees. But I hadn’t been out for a proper walk for a while and after a wonderful but hectic family Festive Season I needed fresh air and exercise. And I had a fitness-monitoring, step-counting watch gizmo as a Christmas present that I was keen to try out. Sticking to my resolve to improve my duck recognition skills and knowledge I decided to go back to Llanfairfechan, which would be sure to fulfil the exercise and fresh air part and would hopefully have birds too. My target ducks for the day were to be Teal and I was hoping to improve on the photographs I took at RSPB Conwy a few days ago.

“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.”

13:20 The car temperature gauge read 7°, and minded by Alfred Wainwright’s famous quote, I’d put on extra layers in anticipation of the cold, but a stiff breeze made the air that greeted me in the almost-deserted car park feel bitter: and worse, the café was closed! So no tea to thaw out with when I got back. For birds though, it has to be business as usual or starve, so there were the usual Mallards on the river and a few more on the grass; they and the Jackdaws were looking rather disappointed by the lack of human-donated titbits.

13:21 The Swan family was out sailing on the wind-rippled model boating lake.

The cygnets, if you can still call them that when almost fully-grown, are definitely no longer Ugly Ducklings, they have the size and grace of the adults and are turning white to differing degrees, which I guess must relate to the order they hatched in. They too are used to having food thrown to them by visitors and travelled towards me hopefully. I had nothing to offer even though they posed nicely for photographs.

Mute Swan – Cygnus olor

13:28 It felt cold there, but out from the shelter of the trees at the side of the lake the effects of the wind blowing into my face, it got worse. I met a few hardy souls making their way back, mostly dog walkers braving the elements for the love of their pets, but I almost had the place to myself.

1330: The tide was out but there were a few waders out on the sand close enough to see; a Black-headed gull, an Oystercatcher and a Redshank.

13:41 I reached the corner where the stand of trees gave a smidgen of shelter from the icy blast and stopped for a couple of minutes to look at the pine trees. They are very exposed to the elements here, but in the main they stand straight and tall and look to be a good age.

I think they are Monterey Pines – Pinus radiata, an introduced species originating from California that is probably the most widely planted tree in the world. It is characterised by having branches that radiate out from its trunk, hence radiata. The trees often has conspicuous cones that may fall or that sometimes remain on the tree for years. I must look for cones another day.

13:44 As always, the view over the slate-fenced green field dotted with sheep, with the hills and mountains beyond was beautiful, even on a dull cloudy day like today.

13:45 At the end of the Promenade I stopped again to take in the vastness of the view across the Menai Straits to the dark blue coastline of Anglesey.

A lone Curlew stalking through shallow water seemed small and vulnerable out there on the expanse of sand, emphasising the bleakness of the day.

13:49 In the rough grass on the other side of the wire fence a small flock of lively Starlings were foraging and bickering amongst themselves as Starlings do.

Apart from the cheery Starlings, my first impression was that the saltmarsh was peaceful – and empty! The great flocks of Wigeon that were here a month ago are gone. I guess they’d exhausted the available food supply here and that most of them will have moved inland to fresh pastures. I’m so glad I got to see them while they were here and with luck thought there may still be a few remaining here to see.

Redshank

13:50 A Redshank, its bill half-covered with mud stood motionless nearby. It must be hard work for birds to find enough food to stay warm, let alone mobile on cold days like this.

13:51 As I said, my target ducks for today were Teal and I was starting to think they too had gone along with the Wigeon; then I spotted a pair swimming together along a water-filled channel. Against the background of the textured water surface they were a pretty sight and may have made a pretty picture if the light had been kinder. But at least I’d seen some and there could be more out there sheltering from the weather.

Teal drake & duck

13:52 Scanning along the channel for more ducks – I actually had binoculars with me today- I caught sight of a Grey Heron standing with its shoulders hunched up and its back turned to a stand of reeds. It was some distance away; in this picture showing the channel the Teal were swimming in, it’s the tiny grey dot on the right hand side, other side of the water just above centre and about an inch in!

It looked miserable; it’s plumage ragged and blowing in the wind and wings folded around itself like a cloak.Grey Heron – Ardea cinerea

I was distracted by some frantic and noisy wing-flapping coming from the muddy bank nearer to me. I felt a moment of dread, half-expecting to see a duck having been seized as prey by something, but it turned out to be Starlings who were dipping into the water and flapping themselves dry. I couldn’t help thinking they must be hardy little migrants from Russia or Scandinavia or somewhere similarly cold, that water must be icy.

When the tide is out water drains back out of channels exposing the soft mud at the bottom.

13:59 – Thus far I’d not had much luck seeing birds, so I was more than happy to see another Redshank foraging on the side of an empty channel.

I’d rounded the bend in the track and was heading towards the Reserve boundary. The railway line runs through the middle of the photograph below and you can just make out the Expressway (A55) at the base of the mountain. There were a few Mallards sitting on the edge of a muddy peninsular, more were sheltering below against the bank at the water’s edge.

Three more were hunkered down on top of a gravelly bank with their backs to the wind.

14:05 I’m happy to spot a pair of Teal resting on a muddy beach on the other side of the little peninsular where the Mallards sat.

A bit further along, higher up the bank I found some more.

The little flock was quite spread out, I counted about twenty that were visible, but there could well have been more nearby and further back.

14:08 A pair headed into the water, disturbing a bird already there that otherwise I may well not have seen. I thought for a minute that it may fly off before I’d had a chance to have a proper look, but it just gathered itself together and carried on stalking and scanning the shallow water for potential food.

Apart from having been engaged by the Teal flock, it’s not surprising I hadn’t spotted the wading bird by myself. The light was dull, the water grey, the mud a greyish-brown and the bird merged into all perfectly. I wasn’t holding out much hope of getting any really good images, but my thinking is that when you’re looking at a bird you don’t immediately recognise, take as many shots as you can and chances are some will be good enough to at least confirm an identification and serve as a record.

Greenshank – Tringa nebularia

As it happened I’d worked out what I thought it was as I focussed in on it. It must be a Greenshank, which are pictured on the information boards back at the beginning of the walk. This was the closest view I’d ever had of one though, and the first I’ve been able to photograph, but certain features rang bells: an elegant wader; long, slightly upturned bill and long legs that are as its name implies green. Although they looked more grey to me in this light.

The Welsh name for Greenshank is Pibydd Coeswerdd

In the UK Greenshank breed on the wild moorlands of the Scottish Highlands and Islands. In late summer and autumn they move south on migration, stopping to feed in marsh pools, on estuaries and rather less scenically, on sewage farms and are widespread in the south. Only a few birds remain in Britain over winter, mainly on the Irish coasts, so maybe that’s where this one is heading for. It’s not far to Ireland from here. It’s yet another bird on the BTO’s AMBER list because of breeding numbers and winter range declines.
It’s moments and sights like this that make the effort of going out on days so worth it!

My favourite moment was when it was joined by a Redshank, which suddenly appeared from nowhere. I was so lucky to get the two related birds in the same shot.

Greenshank with Redshank

The bird carried on with its quest for food regardless of much bigger ducks entering the water nearby. I did wonder if they might be helping by stirring up the mud beneath the water and disturbing anything it may eat, like small fish or worms.
And to put the birds into scale and context within the landscape, this view shows the pool of water the birds were in, tiny specks just visible, and the adjacent bank where the Teal were roosting.

I carried on around the path to the other side of Shell Island and stopped just past the front of the bird hide of the Morfa Madryn Reserve. A few Mallards were resting in the rough grass and out on the gravelly sand; the pebbles may be hard but they’re mostly smooth and may have retained some warmth from the day’s scant sunshine. They gave me a focal point for the photograph too – I loved the zig-zag pattern and different shades and textures of the pebbles and grassy ground.

A few more were up and about foraging on the damp sand.

A Crow, that I’d hoped might have been a Raven, but wasn’t, was also hopefully patrolling the sand.

Once again I contemplated carrying on along the Coast Path for a while, but no, it was way too cold and windy for me to derive any joy from that today.

I took the more sheltered path back. On the scrubland gorse is coming into full bloom now, bringing a welcome and cheering touch of gold to the landscape.

14:28 I had a closer view of the Heron walking this way. It was still in the exact same spot as before. It must have been sleeping.

The path ahead of me was unusually deserted.

Beyond the railway line Penmaenmawr Mountain, looking big, bulky and brooding.

14:45 I love the view across the Traeth. All you can see is the Pavilion, the café building, the Tower House and a stand of dark pine trees. Promenade I see that there is only one person on the sands with a dog. At this time on a Saturday there would usually be a lot more.

14:53 There were a few more birds to see on the way back; Oystercatchers, a Redshank, a Curlew and Black-headed Gulls out on the sand; and on the field side of the path a Chaffinch up in an ash tree and a Dunnock perched on the barbed wire fence.

I didn’t linger to look again at the Swans and other collected ducks and birds that were now gathered on and around the lake. I did wish the café had been open though.

Sightings for the afternoon: Grey Heron; Little Egret; Mute Swans; Teal; Mallard; Khaki Campbell; Oystercatcher; Greenshank; Redshank; Curlew; Black-headed gull; Herring gull; Carrion Crow; Starling; Dunnock

Not too many species today, but what was lacking in quantity was made up for with quality; the Greenshank was a real treat!

Oh, and I logged about 7.300 steps.