When I first started birding there was a definite close season. As soon as May ended, all prospect of seeing "new" birds seemed gone and the long wait for August began. Then, about ten years in, I realised that some other birders switched to butterflies. So I learnt the butterflies, and a few more years on, dragonflies. Recently I've taken on moths. I can never be bored.
This morning began grey and a bit chilly. A light north-easterly might be drifting continental rarities across the land. But not to Morton Bagot. Dave and I plugged away to no avail until at last the clouds drifted away, the sun came out and insects appeared.
It was great. The Large Red Damselflies were joined by the first male Beautiful Demoiselle, and Banded Demoiselle. Speckled Wood butterflies, Peacock, and Orange-tip were also on the wing in no time.
Beautiful Demoiselle
Banded Demoiselle
It wasn't long before a large dragonfly appeared. A Broad-bodied Chaser settled in the grass and defied my attempts of a clear shot. Still nice though.
Broad-bodied Chaser
The dividing line between moths and butterflies is a man-made one. They're all the same thing really, its just that most moths fly at night, and butterflies rarely do. But some moths are day fliers, and I was pleased to see one of these this morning. The Small Yellow Underwing is a localised species which favours undisturbed natural and semi-natural grassland such as at Morton Bagot.
Small Yellow Underwing
We saw two of them before we moved on. The birdy highlights were two pairs of Tufted Ducks, and the continued presence of a female Teal.
Teal
A couple of odd notes from scrubland had us wondering. A Song Thrush, and a Blackcap sang continually as we listened in vain for the repeat of a phrase which had sounded Nightingale-like. We eventually concluded it must have been the Song Thrush.
Anyway, time for a little more moth action. On Friday night I put the trap out, and with temperatures overnight dipping no lower than 12 degrees, I was very hopeful.
The result was 23 moths, nearly half of which were unidentifiable worn Pugs. However, the one which wasn't worn looked subtly different from anything I'd seen before. I decided it was an Ochreous Pug and I'm now waiting anxiously for the recorder to look at the image and give me the thumbs up (or thumbs down). Thumbs up!
Ochreous Pug (sighting confirmed by expert)
Rather easier to identify was a Cinnabar, new for the garden but very familiar as a day-flying moth at Morton Bagot.
Cinnabar
The complete list was:
Ruddy Streak 4 (nfy) Light Brown Apple Moth 1 Brindled/Oak-tree Pug 8 Ochreous Pug 1 (nfg)
Adding to the drama, there was a Common Wasp in the plastic bag containing bird seed, and a large black beetle, probably Black Sexton Beetle, in the trap.
When I signed up to take part in the National Turtle Dove Survey I hadn't appreciated how early I'd have to get up.
This morning I made the effort, and due to the sensitive nature of records involving this species I can't tell you where I went. All I can say is that it was in South Warwickshire.
Also, I saw one.
Turtle Dove
This is the only Turtle Dove I have ever been able to photograph. In the days when they were reasonably plentiful I didn't own a camera. Sadly its now declining fast.
It wasn't purring unfortunately, just a lucky find.
With the wind a bit brisk and from the north-west I set off this morning with more of a sense of duty than of purpose. There was heavy cloud cover for the first hour of a late start so it seemed as though I didn't even have insects to fall back on.
Walking along the road I checked out the Redstart garden, and was not surprised to get a negative result. It must have moved on. Down at the main pool, which was now quite full of water, I bumped into Alan, the HOEF dragonfly surveyor. We chatted for a while about the hopelessness of this spring, and it was plain that insect watchers were having a harder time than birdwatchers.
Still within half an hour it started to brighten up. The flashes were full of water, and I could see two Shelducks and two Lapwings. As if by magic, insects started to appear. I decided to get my camera out.
A female Orange-tip
Large Red Damselfly
I moved on towards Stapenhill Wood, hearing a family of Great Spotted Woodpeckers calling from within their tree hole, before confirming that the Garden Warbler has also gone (or fallen silent). At least I found a new butterfly for the year, a Small Heath.
Small Heath
And that was about that. Time for a token bird I think.
For a change I thought I'd start with moths, both of them. I deemed it too wet for the GMS on Friday so the trap went out last night. But it was chilly and I caught just two moths; a Waved Umber, and a Flame Shoulder (nfy).
Flame Shoulder, nice but common.
So having got up at 05.00 to rendezvous with the two moths, I then had to kill time before meeting up with Dave at Morton Bagot. Expectations were low, and for most of the morning they were not exceeded. Three Shelducks in the Mill Field Flash Field (its too late to start giving it the correct name), while the cool weather meant that about 20 Swallows a couple of House Martins and three Swifts were hawking insects low over the nearest flash.
Things picked up a little when we got to Stapenhill Wood. Here a Garden Warbler was singing from the centre of a dense blackthorn, the first of the year. Unfortunately it took us several seconds to realise what it was, and after about a minutes' worth of gargling warble it fell silent. So we neither saw it nor heard it again.
Back at the cars a Red Kite took pity on us and flew over in a sufficiently languid way that I managed a couple of record shots.
Red Kite
Once again I think its the same individual that has been hanging around the area for a few weeks.
A largely sunny morning with a light westerly breeze.
I paused beneath Bannams Wood with the vague notion of seeing whether I could still hear the Redstart. I was unsuccessful, but didn't give it very long because my main focus today was to be completing this year's breeding bird survey.
In fact the most memorable thing about the morning was firstly bumping into Andy Harris, who is a talented wildlife photographer who follows this blog, and later meeting Paul Ackerman who also reads the blog and was engaged in a wetland bird survey for the BTO. From him I learned that the real name of the flash field is the Mill Field.
I saw Andy again as I was completing the transect, and so he walked round with me as we chatted about birds, photography, and wildlife. Andy has a proper camera and takes proper photographs, completely unlike my efforts at record shots like this one:
The Little Grebe was still present
Never mind.
One or two butterflies were on the wing, and I finally got a shot of a Brimstone.
Brimstone
That's more like it.
As far as birds are concerned, I got some decent counts of singing Whitethroats, and Reed Buntings, and decided there were three Reed Warblers singing at the dragonfly pool reedbed.
Pretty quiet.
The trap went out overnight and I caught the following:
Garden Carpet 1 Common Pug 1 (nfy) Pale Tussock 1 (nfy) Heart and Dart 1 (nfy)
I was very tempted to go down to Monk Wood near Grimley to listen to the Golden Oriole which is the latest rarity in a little purple patch for Worcestershire birders, but I couldn't make Saturday, and this morning I was put off by the weather forecast.
So that's another one gone begging. Instead I decided to pause beside Bannam's Wood in the extremely faint hope of finding my own. Within 10 minutes I found I could hear something good, not a Golden Oriole, but a singing male Redstart. I concentrated on the hedge behind High Field Farm, and spotted the bird as it was disturbed by some breeding Robins and flew towards me before disappearing behind the farm.
I flagged Dave down, and we spent an hour trying to relocate it. We eventually suspected it had moved back towards the village and found it singing from the garden of one of the properties there. Anyone hoping to see a photograph of the bird will be disappointed, and the best I could manage was to film the trees it seemed to be singing from. In the upcoming clip the Redstart is the first bird you can hear, and after a period of many other birds singing it gives another burst towards the end before being drowned out by a Wren.
Although we tend to see passage Redstarts most years, I have only heard one singing here once before, and that was a very brief snatch of song from a bird in a hedgerow. This more prolonged affair suggests a bird which has formed a territory.
I am currently researching the status of all birds in the Redditch area for a planned new blog feature which will start next year, but it does look as though this species has a rather enigmatic history as a breeding species in this part of the world. They definitely bred in the 1930s and possibly still in the 1970s. I have seen juveniles in July, which might suggest the odd pair may still breed locally, but I haven't found any definite recent records of breeding. Today's events may still turn out to relate to a passing migrant.
We finally left the bird and went to Netherstead to start a circuit. Initially it was quite warm and I couldn't resist sticking the camera into video mode again to record the exceptional emergence of St Mark's Flies.
You definitely didn't want to stand with your mouth open.
Two Reed Warblers were singing from the reedbed, but we couldn't really see them.
The recent rain has resulted in the temporary reappearance of the pool, and floating on it was a Little Grebe, the first this year. I took some dreadful record shots in the certain knowledge that by the time we got closer it would have disappeared. A Little Grebe could hide in a bath tub.
Little Grebe
We reached the flash field where the Avocet has reappeared. Four pairs of Greylag Geese had goslings, and there was also a brood of Mallard.
A heavy shower pinned us down, but failed to deliver any birds beyond about 10 Swallows and two Black-headed Gulls. Sadly it looks as though the local Lapwings have given up any thoughts of breeding and were nowhere to be seen.
The rain returned to dog our steps for the remainder of the morning's visit, and we saw nothing else of note.
I was back on the patch today, taking advantage of a dry day in this very wet week. It was quite still and almost humid, so quite a good day to resume my survey work.
I walked the entire boundary of the patch and was struck by the good numbers of singing birds; 15 pairs of Linnets, 18 pairs of Goldfinches, and 23 pairs of Blackbirds for example. I have one more transect to walk, and will work out the number of pairs for the site after that.
With high water levels I was not expecting anything unusual, and sure enough the best sightings were a singing Willow Warbler (compared to 13 singing Chiffchaffs), a Nuthatch (missed on the all-dayer), a Grey Wagtail (also not seen on the all-dayer) and an adult Red Kite.
Red Kite
Looking at the moult showing in its wings, I think this is the same bird as I saw on the day of the all-dayer a couple of weeks ago.
At least 30 Swallows were hawking insects over the flash pools, and five screaming Swifts gave the day an early summer feel.
There is still no sign of the Cuckoo, but at least I heard one yesterday on a whistle-stop call to Haselor scrape.
The moth trap goes out tonight.
I caught just three moths: Shuttle-shaped Dart, Seraphim (nfy), and Brimstone Moth (nfy).
You could argue that there has never been a better time to visit Earlswood Lakes. Workmen are swarming all over it, doing something major. As a result the water level is low and acres of mud and gravel have been exposed. If you are out for a pleasant stroll in the countryside don't go to Earlswood, but if you're a birder.....well, mud = waders.
Or at least it should. I decided to abandon Morton Bagot for the morning and see what I could find. I don't think I've been to Earlswood since I twitched the Night Heron in 2011 (and even that wasn't actually at the lakes when I saw it).
Morton Bagot is about two miles from our house, but Earlswood's only about four and a half miles away and has an enthusiastic and highly competent band of birders watching it regularly. I met one of these, John Oates, while I was there. He told me he had seen four Ospreys there this spring, and reeled off a tidy list of commoner waders which had also dropped in, the best being Greenshank.
By the time I came across John my list was at lower end of my hopes for the day. It included Little Ringed Plovers, Oystercatchers, and a Common Sandpiper. The latter was a year tick.
Little Ringed Plover
My ears were faring better than my eyes. I had heard singing Garden Warbler, Reed Warbler, and a fly-over Yellow Wagtail.
Other tough Morton Bagot birds readily available were Common Terns, a Sand Martin perched in a tree (I have yet to see one perched at the patch) and numerous Great Crested Grebes.
Common Tern
Sand Martin - back-lit unfortunately
On joining John he pointed out a curious immature large gull which may or may not have been a hybrid, and was confounding even him. I had no chance. A Yellow Wagtail called, and he quickly spotted it parading on the shingle bank in front of us. By the time I got my camera out it was on its way, usual story.
He confirmed that today was a bit quiet on the wader front, and I didn't appear to have missed anything.
I can see myself coming here again in August or September, before the contractors finish and the place returns to normal.
And finally some moth news: I put the trap out and caught just three moths, but one was new for the garden. It was a large longhorn moth called Nematopogon swammerdamella, long antennae, long name. I had to measure it to satisfy @ukmothidentification that I had got the right species. It's the biggest of the genus with a forewing length of 11 mm.
Nematopogon swammerdamella
Each antenna is longer than the width of the ruler
I set out this morning with mixed feelings. It rained all day yesterday and Twitter had been alive with reports of waders passing through. I was snug and warm at home, we were entertaining my mum, and the only wildlife in my life were the four moths I had caught overnight (two worn Pugs, a Garden Carpet, and a Peppered Moth if you're interested).
So this morning the rain had gone and it was brightening up. What could have been here yesterday? I'll never know, but maybe something had stuck. Just as I was arriving I got a call from Dave; Sanderling and Ringed Plovers at Marsh Lane this morning, so guess where he was going.
The problem with hoping for waders at Morton Bagot these days is that there's nowhere for them to land. Yesterday's rain will have raised the waterlevel, and what little mud there had been will have been swamped.
But there's always chats. This is a good place for them, and on entering the chat field I duly found one. A Stonechat. Given what I think happened last year, let's just say this was an intriguing sight.
Stonechat
I chose to keep my distance.
Down at the flash field it was as expected, no mud, no waders. Well, two Lapwings if you want to be pedantic, and a pair of Shelducks. As I was moving on I heard a Yellow Wagtail call twice as it flew over, but I searched the sky for it in vain.
Anyway, back to the chats. Perched on vegetation in the weedy field was a lovely female Whinchat. I circled around to get the sun behind me.
Female Whinchat
Not as gaudy as last week's males, but a subtle beauty and a sure sign that spring passage is not yet over. And as if to emphasise the point, a quick scan of the rest of the field added a female Wheatear to the chat list.
Wheatear
I checked my phone and discovered a missed call. Dave had rung for a chat. It turned out he was having an excellent day, and had just found a Little Gull at Marsh Lane. Ironically he and the team had sat in the hides all day yesterday for no reward at all.
Meanwhile, back at Morton Bagot, my chances of adding anything else were thin. Extra warblers had turned up; three Lesser Whitethroats,10 Whitethroats, three Sedge Warblers, and two Reed Warblers. Nothing to get too excited about. Still no Cuckoo calling.
The change in wind direction has brought warmer weather, and insects were much in evidence. St Mark's Flies (those dopey black ones that seem determined to fly up your nose) were everywhere, and I got my first shot of a Large Red Damselfly this year (although I did see one briefly on May 1).
Large Red Damselfly
I should also mention that the ringers have had another success. A Lesser Redpoll they caught on 18 October 2020 has been controlled at Laidley's Walk, Fleetwood in Lancashire on 18 April 2021, a total distance of 200 kilometres north-west.
A bright sunny morning, but still cold. Heavy showers approaching. I know I should have joined the crowds heading down to Worcester to stare at a Lesser Yellowlegs and add it to my county list, but there's something wrong with me. I can't be bothered. Maybe tomorrow if it's still there.
On Sunday Dave visited the patch and found a Swift, two Little Ringed Plovers, and a Starling (scarce here in spring).
After putting my moth trap out last night, I was disappointed to find it empty this morning. So I needed the patch to do the business. I started off walking along the road below Bannams Wood. It was good for flora, but the birdy highlight was a singing Whitethroat utilising telephone wires.
Bird on a wire
I hurried to the flash field where the pair of Avocets, missing on Sunday, was back, while the Little Ringed Plovers were absent. Are these birds working shifts? Four Shelducks had returned but I couldn't see any Teal, while the cool weather had encouraged seven Swallows and a Sand Martin to swoop around looking for low-flying insects.
Mr and Mrs
Walking down the brook I could see no sign of any Fieldfares (or the Ring Ouzel), but did spot two male Wheatears in a ploughed strip which Dave and I had speculated should attract Wheatears. Today, it did.
Wheatear
You can't beat a Wheatear. Or maybe you can. The best was saved for last.
I had reached the "raptor watchpoint" above Stapenhill Wood, and was engaged in the fruitless task of trying to photograph a singing Lesser Whitethroat. A bird appeared on a bare twig a few metres away. I focused on it, and found it was a Spotted Flycatcher.
Unfortunately, as I fumbled with the camera it flipped off to the right and disappeared behind the scrub. I hung around for about twenty minutes, one eye on the approaching storm. It did not reappear, but at least I pulled back Swift.
Swift - my entry for bird photograph of the year.
On the walk back I saw my one and only butterfly of the day, a Speckled Wood.
I'm absolutely knackered. Perhaps because Covid robbed us of last year's spring all-dayer I was up well before the lark this morning. In fact I was in the field for 03.50. The first three birds heard were Greylag Goose, Woodpigeon (a clatter of wings), and Tawny Owl.
Owls were likely to be a problem. The resident showy Tawny Owl has not been showing lately, and I haven't seen a Little Owl since the start of the year. As for Barn Owl, well that clocked in as species number nine. I heard two birds doing their Nightjar-like purr, before one of them shrieked at me from an oak tree. Final vindication for the early start came from a couple of reeling Grasshopper Warblers.
There's always a pesky Song Thrush getting in the way.
Shortly after recording the first of three Grasshopper Warblers, Skylark joined the party as species number 12. By now it was light enough to see my notebook, and the dawn chorus was gathering pace.
I reached the flash field just as a little mist started to form, but not enough to obscure two Shelducks and an Avocet. Yes, half of the pair was back for the big day. Later on I added a record shot.
Avocet
On completing my dawn circuit the total was on 40, and included Treecreeper and Reed Warbler, which could have proved tricky.
After breakfast I returned to find my teammates. Yes its true, I actually have a team this year. Back at Netherstead, after making short work of finding a Kestrel I rang Martin Wheeler to see where he was and what he'd seen. He was at the pool field and had found a Whinchat. I told him I wanted to make a detour down the access road for the possibility of Willow Warbler, which I duly heard, and then meet him at the Whinchat. Well I met him OK, but the Whinchat had disappeared. A flock of 30 Swallows was an unexpected sight, given how few there have been here.
We continued to the flash field where the light was much improved, and we quickly added Teal and Snipe. We also spotted three House Martins (the local colony has not returned from Africa yet), and in true bird race style I forgot to add them to the list (until now). Martin then spotted the next good species, a party of 10 Fieldfares at the top of a distant tree. A Black-headed Gull appeared (I've had trouble with them in the past, but this year they were easy peasy).
At about this time we heard from our third team member. Tony Kelly had arrived and had started birding. Poor Tony has a seriously knackered knee and was hobbling around on a stick. Despite this he had heard a Mistle Thrush, the first of three pairs of this normally difficult species we found. During the afternoon I found two adults and a juvenile near the church.
Juvenile Mistle Thrush
We tried hard to relocate Martin's Whinchat, but were unsuccessful. Martin spotted a Bullfinch (species number 61 for the day), and we had great views of a tiny male Sparrowhawk as it shot past us to wreak havoc further down a hedge-line.
Tony decided to call it a day, while Martin and I paid a second visit to the flash. This paid off when I spotted three Sand Martins, the first here this year. We couldn't see anything else, so continued along the Morton Brook.
About fifty metres further on I found the bird of the day. Scanning the far hedge line I came to a gap, and through it, neatly framed by a triangle of branches in the hedge, stood a Ring Ouzel. "Fuck" I said. The urgency was apparent to Martin, and this was not just any old Ring Ouzel, it was a belting male facing us, chest on. I got Martin on it, but as I phoned Tony, and while Martin was putting his scope up, the bird disappeared.
At first I wasn't worried. It must have just hopped to the side, gone behind the hedge. We'd see it again. But then a flock of thrushes appeared. 35 Fieldfares (or maybe 34 and the Ring Ouzel). We lost them behind trees, and a couple of minutes later two dog-walkers appeared in the field. All became clear. So no photograph (when I could have got one if I'd been quicker).
We headed to Netherstead, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune. We were on 64 for the day. Not bad at all. Martin headed off, and I jumped in the car to return home. I made a brief stop to let Lyn know I was on my way, and at that moment a Green Woodpecker yaffled from the safety of Clowse Wood, species 65.
For the afternoon shift I was solo once more. I was also flagging. There was nothing new on the flash, and I ended up in Stapenhill Wood failing to hear any Marsh Tits. Another couple of Treecreepers was some compensation.
As I wearily made my way back across the weedy field, the sound of a corvid, a Raven I think, mobbing something had me looking in its direction. An adult Red Kite was being chased by the corvid, and I got a few record shots.
Red Kite
Soon 66 became 67 as the final bird gave itself up. We had been fairly sure there was a Coot on the bulrush fringed top pool, but it had not been playing ball.
Missing from the list were Goldcrest, Marsh Tit, Coal tit, and Nuthatch. I could have tried harder at the death for these, but I'd had enough.
The absence of a Cuckoo was the biggest disappointment. I hope it returns soon.
I won't be getting up quite as early for the September all dayer.
PS: I've just seen the final scores of the other teams. We came 22nd out of 30 teams. The winners topped 100 species. More relevant to us, Earlswood scored 74. So we're still in League 2.
