Not Annual

In a local birding context, 'not annual' is a label given to those usually desirable species that cannot be guaranteed every year, but in West Dorset and East Devon it is also true of snow. A decent covering seems always to do something bird-wise, so the last couple of days have been interesting...

We weren't supposed to get any snow, just rain and sleet. And first thing yesterday, that was exactly what we did get. I was at West Bay by 07:30, peering optimistically through a curtain of the stuff for anything that might be little, and an auk. But evidently I cannot tell optimism from foolhardiness. Half an hour later I was back home.

Fairly soon the sleet was coming in down in big, wet, floppy flakes. It was now snow. Just. I cannot really credit the snow for what happened next, except that I might not have been gazing through the conservatory window otherwise. A movement caught my eye. A male Blackcap, possibly the first I've seen actually in the garden. It was feeding on Honeysuckle berries in the little wildlife hedge I planted in the first 2020 lockdown. For an hour or more it was intermittently on view, and knowing it was there as a result of my labours pleased me greatly.

Cheers Gav, nice berries.

By lunchtime the snow had stopped, and Cogden beckoned. A walk on the beach was my plan, to look for flotsam that might be little, and an auk. The road was closed, so I had to walk from Burton Bradstock instead. Still, that gave me even more sea to fruitlessly scan...

Looking east from Cogden. Not much snow at beach level, though there was a proper covering on higher ground.

In the photo above, that snowy hill on the far left is called the Knoll. This is what it looked like close up...

Yep, that's snow.

It was a lovely afternoon, but there was little going on bird-wise. Mind you, I must have seen 25+ Song Thrushes, plus Blackbirds and a few Redwings, poking about in the soft ground of the lower fields with an air of mild urgency, as if it was all about to freeze solid any minute...

Song Thrush and a dusting of snow, just inland of the coast path.

Always good to see a few Redwings, which were typically shy.

Also notable was a Heron on the deck and three Chiffchaffs...

Most of my Heron sightings here are fly-overs.

One of three Chiffs.

Bird of the day was on the beach, and a gull...

There were several beautiful Med Gulls in a small flock at West Bex, but this one is wearing a colour ring - Red HFV6.

I've been woefully slack at reporting colour-ringed Med Gulls recently. I don't see many, and know I ought to make more effort, so pinged off an email last night. I was amazed to get a reply before breakfast this morning! Red HFV6 was ringed as a chick in Hungary ten years ago, and along with the usual history of subsequent sightings I was sent a link to a map of them all...

I'm pretty sure I haven't recorded a colour-ringed Med Gull from further east than this.

Look at where it's been! This is another reason I love gulls - they are such great travellers. With many species it strikes me that they can turn up almost anywhere. Two of the sightings - in 2015 and 2018 - were at Radipole Lake in Weymouth, with familiar observers' names attached to them. Birding is a small world really.

Despite a freezing night, and a lot of snow now hard and crispy on the higher ground, I had to work today. But lunchtime was earmarked for a visit to Colyton WTW to see if there were many Chiffs in residence yet, and if any of them might be pale and interesting. I'm hoping for a tristis or two this winter. I saw maybe 10+ Chiffs, but all regular colybita birds. The adjacent field was dotted with winter thrushes. Five species in all - Mistle and Song Thrush, Blackbird, Fieldfare and Redwing...

Mistle Thrush dwarfing the Redwings.

Fieldfare

Fieldfare and Redwings

As I said earlier, a decent covering of snow always seems to do something, and evidence was right there in that field - seven Golden Plovers among the thrushes. Pretty much the only time we see Golden Plovers in the Axe Valley fields is during snow and/or a serious freeze-up. Birds winter on nearby high ground, but will visit the valley in such conditions.

There is a very, very slim chance that a flock of Golden Plovers might hold something rarer, so a proper check is obligatory. I imagine it must be rather exciting to clap eyes on an American Golden Plover or wintering Dotterel in a flock of Goldies. It's never happened to me, but for the briefest of moments my pulse did skip a beat or two...

That bird on the left had me going for a second...

But today was not the day...

The pale-faced bird is now on the right, and just a common-or-garden Golden Plover.

Finally, this next Goldie had just heaved out a gargantuan earthworm. A real tug of war it was...

The muddy bill of battle.

Bluesky Thinking

Exactly eight months ago I wrote a post about joining Bluesky Social. Having dumped X (formerly Twitter) around seven months prior to that, I was hopeful that Bluesky might fill the consequent gap in my online reading material and put me in contact once again with like-minded fans of Nat. Hist. Well, initially it didn't really do that. It felt like I had stepped out of a heaving, sweaty, noisy pub and found myself in the quiet cool of a car park with a handful of others who couldn't abide the din. Bluesky was a pleasant relief, sure, but not very lively. It seemed that most of those whose input I had enjoyed on X/Twitter were still there. Okay, some might have a token Bluesky account but were barely active on it, if at all. Bluesky was nice, but quiet. And so it remained, for quite some time...

Still, at least I knew that a quick look at my Bluesky feed would be just that - quick. A couple of new posts to catch up with perhaps, maybe a handful. However, a little while ago it was like someone in the pub had let off a massive stink-bomb. As I type, the exodus is in full swing, and the car park is filling up fast.

For new arrivals, Bluesky must seem like Twitter of old. Well, it is and it isn't. Unlike X, Bluesky is not all about followers/following. Rather, curated 'feeds' are more where it's at. I have a number of feeds pinned to my home page. Yes, one of those is my 'Following' feed, where I see the output of accounts I follow, but others include 'Birding UK/IRE', 'Bioacoustics', 'Team Moth' etc, which offer thematic material from any who tag the relevant topic in their post. Most feeds offer a 'starter pack' of accounts to follow, putting you in touch rapidly with content that might interest you. As far as I can tell I am not in any starter packs, but even so my account is attracting new followers every single day right now.

Bluesky remains ad-free. I suspect many would be happy to pay a modest subscription to keep it that way. I certainly would. Meanwhile, to what extent will the current X-odus empty that place of birdy folk? I am fascinated to see. I'm probably being simplistic, but as an increasing number of familiar - and welcome - names pop up on Bluesky, I imagine the scene inside that old pub being less and less one of considered discussion and debate, but rather more and more one of belligerent ranting and noisily throwing up in the corner.

Catching up with Bluesky is no longer quick.

Fantastic Plastic

In 2010 a Brown Shrike lived on Staines Moor for a while. For some reason that I cannot recall, in December I happened to be nearby, so twitched it. This top-drawer rarity was just a stone's throw from a favourite haunt of my formative years - Staines Reservoirs. Naturally I called in, and from the causeway took this photo...

Ruddy Ducks at Staines Res, December 2010.

I've not seen a Ruddy Duck since that day. Once a familiar sight in West London and elsewhere, but no longer. I'm sure the odd Ruddy Duck pops up here and there, but I doubt there is much fanfare. After all, its life would be at stake. As I remember it, birders were divided as to the virtues of the generously funded campaign to locate and shoot every last Ruddy Duck, so I can imagine that some may be reluctant to publicise such a bird. As far as I can make out, the entire UK population of Ruddy Duck originated from a handful that were brought to this country from the USA in 1948 or thereabouts. In UK birding parlance the fence-hoppers and their offspring gave us yet another 'plastic' species to tick.

The British List is littered with plastic. Pheasant, Red-legged Partridge, almost every single Canada Goose, to name three of many.

Ironically it was a piece of fantastic plastic that kindled my latent birding urges way back when. Seeing a green parrot in the conifer outside my hall of residence window in early 1978 prompted me to make contact with Nick Green upstairs, whom I knew was a birdwatcher. And so it was that Ring-necked Parakeet was the unlikely catalyst to a life-long addiction.

As a keen lister back in the day, I was well aware that some plastic was fair game. Golden Pheasant for example. And Lady Amherst's Pheasant even more so. Not just plastic, that one, but rare plastic. I spent precious hours searching for both of those. Successfully I might add, for what it's worth. Also other, more subtle plastic. Little Owl, for example. In conversation with another local birder just the other day I found myself lamenting the recent demise of Little Owl in parts of East Devon. But honestly, it shouldn't even be here.

Probably all the Red Kites I happily enjoy each year are derived from plastic stock. And now we have even more spectacular raptors cruising the West Country skies, thanks to the White-tailed Eagle reintroduction scheme on the Isle of Wight. Still plastic though. There wasn't much I could do about the call from Mike Morse this morning, with news of a White-tailed Eagle over Cogden. I was at home, decorating. However, about 30 minutes later I could hear the local Herring Gulls alarm-calling, so popped outside to investigate. Just a Buzzard? No, not a Buzzard...

White-tailed Eagle heading W over Bridport.

And there it goes...

White-tailed Eagle is not even a garden tick. Frankly, I am ambivalent about these birds. Yes, they are magnificent creatures, obviously, and a pleasure to see. But there is part of me that wonders what it's all about. The White-tailed Eagles, Great Bustards, White Storks, Cranes, and so on...

Anyway, rather than drag out that particular soap-box, a couple of recent moths...

The garden's third Scarce Bordered Straw, a proper migrant.

This Grey Shoulder-knot was a first for the garden. Not uncommon though.

Finally, a little collage to illustrate why I always use a burst setting on the P950. All nine shots of the burst are depicted, and labelled. In the first frame the Goldcrest is not even facing the camera, and I can only assume that I pressed the shutter release because the bird was entirely visible rather than partially hidden by twigs etc, and that I hoped it would turn around. Which it did. Frame 5 turned out to be the winner...

All shots except no.5 are full frame.

Nikon P950 Settings

This morning was another in the current series of high pressure-induced deep gloom. Once again I was at Cogden first thing, initially the beach, then the hedges. A brisk SE breeze had sprung up overnight, and a few birds were moving into it offshore. Here are some naff pics to illustrate that fact...

Dark-bellied Brent Goose. Typical going-away shot due to seeing too late.

Passing Gannets are always a pleasure.

Quite a few auks flew E, including several small flocks. None were close enough to to safely ID with bins, but the camera nailed this distant Razorbill.

All the lovely Yellow-browed (and Pallas's) Warbler habitat that I checked was currently untenanted. Still, 4 Chiffs by the coast path suggested a small arrival had perhaps occurred, and a bit further inland were 2 Goldcrests in a hedge...

Goldcrest

Those are comfortably the best Goldcrest photos I've taken, and prompted a fellow birder on Bluesky to ask what settings I use on my Nikon P950. So I thought I would devote the rest of this post to answering that question. Hopefully it might be useful to others who employ this excellent superzoom for birdy pics.

Those Goldcrest shots were taken at 500mm (35mm equivalent) zoom, ISO 640, f5.6, 1/125 sec. I didn't actually enter any of those settings except the zoom. The camera did it all for me.

The following photo was taken a couple of days ago, at roughly the same time on a similarly dull morning. The bird was in deep shade, and I used 1200mm (35mm equivalent) zoom, ISO 2200, f6.3, 1/125 sec. Again I set the zoom only - the camera did the rest - but also dialled in -1.0 exposure compensation...

Not a great photo, but at least it's a record shot of the Whitford Rosy Starling. Taken before work, and I didn't have time to wait around for a better opportunity.

I have my P950 configured in such a way that I do not have to tweak anything except zoom and - if required - exposure compensation. Everything else is automatically set by the camera. It works a treat. The only exception to this rule is flight shots, for which I use a different setting altogether. But I won't be covering that in this post. And anyway, I am not that great at flight shots.

If you own a Nikon P950 and would like to try my settings, please read on...

For bird photos I don't think I ever use any camera buttons/wheels/dials apart from these and the zoom control.

Initial set-up

Here is how I set up the camera for bird photography. Under some sub-headings there may be a few words to explain my rationale.

First, turn the Mode dial to 'A' (Aperture Priority) then press the 'menu' button. Set each menu option as follows...

Image quality: FINE

Image size: 16m (4608x3456)

Picture control: SD (Standard)

Custom Picture Control: blank - probably a default setting.

White Balance: Auto1 (Auto (normal))

Metering: Spot

Continuous: H (Continuous H)

This is a burst setting, and gives a maximum of ten rapid-fire exposures, depending on how long you press the shutter release. In my view, a vital setting. For a rapidly moving bird like the Goldcrest above, it gives you multiple chances to capture a good pose. And ideally the bird might be momentarily still as well, meaning a sharp image hopefully. Even with a stationary bird you will notice that some shots in the sequence will be sharper than others, especially if the shutter speed is a bit slow.

The downside of this setting is the recovery period after a burst, while the camera processes and stores each shot. Minimal if the burst was only two or three shots, but a few seconds if it was ten. You simply have to wait. Personally I reckon it is worth the incovenience.

ISO sensitivity: A3200 (100-3200)

The camera automatically selects the ISO depending on the light available. In practice that might be anywhere between 100 and 3200. The lower the number, the less noisy (grainy) the photo.

Exposure bracketing: OFF

AF area mode: Manual (spot)

The best setting to enable you to thread through branches etc and focus on the bird. For a really close bird, can enable you to focus on the eye. For a very distant bird on a twig sticking out of a hedge top, say, and too small for the camera to detect and focus on, you can focus on the hedge instead. Half-press the shutter to lock focus, adjust composition as required, shoot.

Autofocus mode: AF-F (Full-time AF)

Flash exp. compensation: -0.3 (this might well be a default setting - I never use flash)

Noise reduction filter: NR- (Low - probably another default setting)

Long exposure NR: NR (Auto - another default setting I suspect)

Active D-lighting: OFF

[Multiple exposure: OFF (automatically set by the camera, and apparently not available in 'A' mode)]

Save user settings: don't touch this for a moment, rather skip down until you come to...

Zoom memory: ON

Zoom memory enables you to preset a selection of zoom settings. Toggle right, and you will be presented with a list. I have ticked 24mm, 50mm, 105mm (the maximum available in macro mode, which I use for moths), 300mm, 500mm, 800mm, 1200mm, 1600mm and 2000mm. To understand how this works in practice, see below...

Startup zoom position: 50

Automatically sets the zoom at 50mm (i.e. what would be equivalent to 50mm on a 35mm camera) when the camera is switched on. With zoom memory ON (see above), pressing the zoom lever (by the shutter release button) will instantly shift the lens to the next selected zoom position (105mm); press again for 300mm, again for 500mm, and so on. Personally I like this approach, but it might not be for everyone. You can always fine tune a zoom setting manually with the lever on the left hand side of the lens body. However, the main zoom lever by the shutter release will always zoom in or out by the preset steps.

M exposure preview: OFF (again, probably a default setting)

Okay, now go back to Save user settings, and press the OK button.

This is the most crucial step. Everything you have set is now stored as 'user settings', which you access by turning the mode dial to 'U'. For 90% of the time I am in 'U' mode. In normal use, I rarely if ever bother to tweak anything other than exposure compensation. I might set, say -0.3 or -0.7 for a pale gull against a dark background, or -1.0 for a juv Rosy Starling in a black hole in a hedge, but when I switch the camera off it automatically resets. In other words, every time I switch the camera on in 'U' mode it will automatically be at 50mm zoom and zero exposure compensation, with all my favourite metering, focus and burst settings engaged. I know exactly where I am, and it works. Well, it does for me.

So that's it. I will add one extra tip: I set the 'Fn' (Function) button to ISO. Very occasionally it can be useful to reduce the ISO from whatever the camera has chosen in order to get a better quality (less noisy) shot. Lowering the ISO will inevitably lower the shutter speed as well, but in some circumstances (stationary bird, solidly supported camera) you can get away with it.

PS. For post-processing I use Faststone Image Viewer. Simple, as effective as I need, and FREE!

Axe Casp Wrecks Lunch Break

After a steady morning's work I was looking forward to a quiet lunch by the estuary. The tide was low and there were a few gulls to look at. Most were upriver beyond Coronation Corner, so before unpacking my sarnies I thought I should take the scope over to the viewing platform and check them out properly. Should only take a couple of minutes...

Newly-arrived birds usually land in the river and have a good wash first, moving onto the mud afterwards to preen. My eye was drawn to just such an individual, splashing and rolling in the water. Momentarily I thought it might be a 2nd-winter Yellow-legged Gull, but fairly quickly decided it looked even better...

Giving off very Caspy vibes here.

The grey mantle and scapular feathers look a tad darker than those of surrounding argenteus Herring Gulls, and a slightly different tone also.

They're tiny, but they're there: those little white flecks in the outermost primary tips are characteristic of 2nd-winter Caspian Gull.

As expected, it soon flew from the water. Thankfully It plonked on the mud with other gulls...

And now it's looking as Caspy as you like. Again, note the subtle difference in grey tone compared with surrounding HGs.

It didn't stay in this spot for long, flying even further away but thankfully not departing. At this point I was joined on the platform by another birder, who had seen my message on the local WhatsApp group. To my shame I didn't immediately recognise Devon birding stalwart Martin Wolinski (it's been a few years!) but it was good to see him again and share a nice bird.

Although distant shots like this don't show a lot of feather detail they are very good at conveying a bird's jizz. That clean, white-headed look, with minimal shading around the eye, is essentially the same thing that makes 1st-winters stand out too.

Once again it didn't settle for long in this spot, and soon moved further away still...

At this point I realised it must be right in front of the Tower Hide, which is just across the river to the left in the photo above, and that my lunch break was doomed. So I said my goodbyes to Martin and headed round to Black Hole Marsh.

Caspian Gulls are notorious for their short stays on the Axe, and I was not optimistic that this one would stick until I arrived at the hide. Amazingly it did.

I have never taken so many photos of one bird. The next bunch are mostly quite samey, but are rather good at conveying that 'look' which Casps seem to have. I'm sure the seemingly small, beady eye contributes to it. I wondered about annotating one or two shots to highlight plumage characteristics shown by Caspian Gulls of this age, but decided they are probably better left as they are. Anyway, collectively they contribute to a useful search image to store away somewhere handy.

One thing I will say about this bird: it doesn't have the longest legs. Ideally you want to see a lanky pair of stilts on your Casp, but I have encountered birds previously that were similarly challenged in that department. So it's not a concern ID-wise, just aesthetically less than ideal perhaps.

I waited a long time for the opportunity to capture a full wing stretch, and like an idiot I neglected to adjust the composition when the bird finally obliged. So what should have been the very best shots in the sequence are missing some primary tips!

This is only the fourth 2nd-winter Caspian Gull I've seen. Two were also on the Axe (found by Steve Waite) and the other was on the West Bex Mere. I was delighted to share this smart gull with another couple of birders in the Tower Hide, including Mike Blaver, one of the local regulars. In my experience Casps are frequently seen only by the finder, so that made a nice change. Eventually it departed seawards down the river.

So that was lunch.

Early November Fare

Next to the Cogden NT car park are a couple of picnic tables. First thing this morning I sat there quietly, coffee in hand, contemplating the dense, grey gloom and minimal bird sounds. Close by was a large motorhome, just one of the huge number that use this car park for illicit overnight camping every year. Its rear door opened and a woman half fell out, swearing vigorously in startled embarrassment. The mood was set.

Heading for the beach, I sensed that this morning's walk was going to be more about exercise than birds. And mostly that's how it was. Just two exceptions.

Hearing a Lapwing call, I looked up to see a sizeable flock heading high west, something I've not seen locally outside spells of hard weather. Here are most of them...

Almost 100 Lapwings here. Which reminds me of another reason to carry a camera: for counting purposes.

So, that was a bit random. Soon afterwards I was in what has turned out to be the most reliable area for Firecrests. It has habitat suitable for Yellow-browed Warbler as well, and Hawfinch too I guess. So I spent some time there. I have yet to hear a Firecrest with my own ears this year, but my Merlin app has heard plenty. With its assistance I dug out three this morning, a single and two together...

The single Firecrest. Considering how gloomy it was at 09:15 I am pleased with how well the Nikon P950 coped with the conditions: 800mm zoom, 1100 ISO, 1/125 sec at f5.6.

One of the two together, which were never cooperative.

This afternoon I photographed the moth highlights from last night's catch. For various reasons 2024 was always going to be a tricky year when it came to indulging all my time-consuming hobbies, and something had to give. Noc-mig was the first to suffer, and I have done none at all since last autumn. Mothing has been another victim. The trap has been out a fair bit, but my effort level has been far less intense. Even so, there have been some great moths and every now and then I've added another species to the garden list. The following pics cover the last two nights. Incidentally, this weathered concrete slab has become my latest favourite studio backdrop. I love the way some moths virtually disappear on it.

First Red-green Carpet of the year.

First Barred Sallow of the year, unless you count the shrivelled object I extracted from a spider's web last week.

Spruce Carpet. Only the second for the garden, and to be honest I don't trust the first one from 2022, for which there appears to be no photo. This species is very similar to Grey Pine Carpet, and I've sought second opinions on this individual for that very reason. Two votes in favour so far. Virtually a garden tick really.

A bit worn, but this Green-brindled Crescent is still a spectacular moth. First of the year. None in 2023.

Following our first a couple of nights back, this is the garden's second Mottled Umber, and a very different form too (see below).

Feathered Thorn. Large, furry, and very autumnal.

Yet another Blair's Mocha.

Red-line Quaker, another autumn classic.

One of the annoying Epirrita (November Moth) aggregate. One of them is called Pale November Moth. Presumably because it is pale. This might well be one. Or not.

This is either Monopis obviella or M. crocicapitella, otherwise known respectively as Yellow-backed Detritus Moth and Pale-backed Detritus Moth.

Monopis obviella would be new for the garden, but you need a photo of the hindwing (dark in obviella, pale grey in crocicapitella) to secure official verification. Frankly I could not be bothered to go through the rigmarole of chilling and manhandling a <6mm scrap of tissue and scales in order to photograph its hindwing, just for listing purposes. I get the impression there is no other reliable way to separate the two species, which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that all my M. crocicapitella records are in fact quite untrustworthy. Sadly, this irritating scenario is par for the course with moths. So, what to do? Easy. A quick flick of the wrist, and my annoying little dilemma was airborne and out of my life.

Moths are so entertaining. On the one hand you can have different species that might superficially look so similar that you need to dismantle them (Epirrita agg) or immobilise and unfold them (obviella/crocicapitella) to tell one from the other. And on the other hand there are moths with multiple visually dissimilar forms which are still just the one species. Like Mottled Umber...

L: Mottled Umber; R: Mottled Umber

Even without the excitement of migrant species, mothing has so much going for it.

Too much.

It's a rabbit hole...