Locally, there has been modest excitement. Today I was working in Seaton, so news that Joe Stockwell had a juv Montagu's or Pallid Harrier heading W along the beach from Abbotsbury didn't galvanise me into action like it would if I'd been at East Bexington, say, but I still contrived to have lunch next to the Axe Estuary and look at the sky a lot. Twelve years ago to the very day, I had a juv Monty's fly W through Axmouth village and out over the estuary, and I would have been thrilled to repeat the experience. Instead I tried to be thrilled about my cheese & pickle roll, cold pizza and lots of drossy gulls. A challenge, that.
Richard found a Wryneck at Charmouth yesterday, a fine reward for many hours of patch birding. My own autumn reward is as yet undisclosed. I have been making an effort though, and most mornings have seen me pounding some nearby coastal habbo. However, I think the early starts have caught up with me. This morning my eyes wouldn't open, so here's a hotch-potch from the last few times they did...
Last Friday morning I had my first autumn Siskins, a flock of 18 W through East Bex. Another flock of 20-odd small finches were almost certainly Siskins too, but they didn't call. Or rather, I didn't hear them. I suspect the latter, and as you will see, this is going to become a theme. Also at East Bex were two Great Northern Divers together offshore, a couple of Ringed Plovers, and single Wheatear and Whinchat...
East Bexington Whinchat, version 1 |
...and version 2 |
When the record shot actually is not a record. GND x 2. Or whatever you want, really. Grebe sp? Auk sp? Plastic flotsam sp? |
On Saturday I gave East Bex another go, intending to walk to West Bex and back from the Abbotsbury Beach car park. A highlight was meeting Dave Chown for the first time. He's been doing autumn vismig here for 22 years, and was a fount of interesting gen. After a chat, I left Dave to his counting and headed off, my secret, furry-headed weapon clamped to the camera bag and switched on. I was eager to see how the recorder performed on a day when there was a bit of bird movement, and Saturday was ideal. Just to give you a taste of what it can do, here are four clips from that morning, pasted together in a single spectrovid. See if you can tell what the four species are. Nothing too tricky, I promise...
The first three clips are passing migrants (although one did choose to land right in front of me) and the last involves two birds on the beach. Answers at bottom of page...
So, was it worth lugging the recorder around? Yes. Yes, it was. Up until now I've been a bit lax when it comes to daytime use, but now that autumn is up and running I really should make the effort. One obvious reason is the possibility of recording a super-cool flyover, like a Lapland Bunting or Dotterel or something. That would be brilliant of course, but there is another, rather more prosaic reason...
The recorder hears better than I do.
When you are standing right next to a fellow birder who picks up a flyover on call, while you hear nothing, or at best a faint, unidentifiable squeak, it is time to admit the obvious. Your hearing is knackered. Maybe not fully, but enough to be a handicap. This has happened to me twice recently, and I can no longer fob it off. However, I'm already on the varifocals (cf the 20/20 vision of youth) and am very reluctant to further bolster my dimming senses with technology. Therefore I have chosen a birdy yardstick to tell me when hearing aids are a must-have. Cetti's Warbler. When I can no longer hear a Cetti's at 10ft, yes, that's the day.
In the meantime, my recorder can pick up the flyovers for me. At Cogden yesterday morning I had a flock of 20 Yellow Wagtails go past. I didn't hear a single call, but could nevertheless see what they were. I made a note on my phone: 06:44 Yellow Wag 20. Back home, and the recording at this point was full of faint but very obvious Yellow Wagtail calls! Strewth! There were also two pairs of flyover wagtails which I left unidentified. Again I noted the time. Checking the recording revealed them all to be Yellow Wags, calling merrily. Not good, is it...?
Anyway, among the bits and bobs of recent days are a Rock Pipit which paused briefly at West Bexington (quite scarce there I believe), a Kingfisher flying through Cogden, and a sprinkling of Wheatears and Whinchats. When I returned from my walk on Saturday morning, Dave Chown had tallied well over 300 Siskins, and 49 Grey Wagtails. Without trying, I'd managed 100+ Siskins and 10+ Grey Wags. It's great to witness birds on the move, and to hear a couple of them occasionally...when they're really close and loud.
West Bex Rockit |
Wheatear on the West Bex shingle |
Burton Bradstock Yellow Wag |
Cogden on Sunday evening. Pretty much had it to myself. Bliss. |
Birds in the vid: Grey Wagtail, Rock Pipit, Siskin, Common Sandpiper.
One day you will download your recordings and realise that the bird of a lifetime was calling nearby but you missed seeing it. The next day you will have a hearing test. Or you do it now and you don't have to kick yourself quite so hard.
ReplyDeleteI'm in the first stage of deafness - I can't hear much that my wife says - but were it to interfere with my main hobby.....
Was your first para written by my wife?? 😄
DeleteI expect the hearing test will come, but not yet. Not yet. It's not as bad as I paint it...
I remember many years ago reading one of Bill Oddie's books which included a diary of his visits to his local patch on Hampstead Heath. One of the other regulars was an old guy who could no longer hear high-pitched bird calls. It was something that, in my (relative) youth at the time, I'd never considered. Now, like you, I'm experiencing it for myself. I guess we should just be glad we're still around and still able to enjoy birdss, albeit with somewhat diminished senses. – Malcolm
ReplyDeleteYep, agree with that sentiment, Malcolm. High-pitched calls, like crests etc, are still audible to me, but I need a bit more volume these days.
DeleteThanks for the kind and encouraging comment. As I said on the local Whatsapp, in my head it went something like Blackcap ... Whitethroat ... Chiffchaff ... next bird, blimey it's a WRYNECK!!! Made all those early mornings worthwhile, Richard
ReplyDeleteA lovely moment, that. 👍
DeleteHappens all too rarely, but when it does... 😍
At nearly sixty years of age I appear to have escaped this particular sign of decline..so far.
ReplyDeleteThat said, I wonder how much loss of hearing is really down to an insidious build up of ear wax?
First sign is when you find yourself turning up the volume on the telly...
DeleteApparently.