The Kids Are Alright

At my age it is very tempting to focus on differences between the world I grew up in and what kids might experience today. It's no doubt a rich vein for bloggage, but any observations I might offer would probably be quite unreliable, because I can only guess at what it's like to be a young teenager in 2020. Guess, and shudder. So rather than be lured down that path I will instead take a look at some similarities...

As a boy I was passionate about fishing. My bedroom wall was papered with pictures of fish, mostly Keith Lindsell paintings cut from the Angling Times. Bedtime reading would be a fishing book of some kind, or the ABU 'Tight Lines' catalogue, an annual parade of mouth-watering tackle beyond my budget. And as often as possible I would be out there, fishing. As a twelve and thirteen-year-old I would catch an early-morning Met Line train from Preston Road Station to Croxley Green, or Ruislip, or Rickmansworth, and be out until dark. Sometimes I would meet up with a friend, though often I would be alone. What I am trying to convey is the all-consuming nature of my passion. I absolutely loved fishing. It was my escape, my solace, my sphere of aspiration.

And I am quite sure there are youngsters in 2020 who feel the same about birding, or fishing, or nature in a broader sense. Exactly the same. I am convinced that kids today are capable of being as wrapped up in their interest as I was in mine. Such obsession is a timeless thing.

In my early teens I began to yearn for broader horizons, and the obvious route seemed to be membership of a fishing club. Somehow I learned about Glacier Angling Society, and their fortnightly coach trips to the Thames, the Great Ouse, the Hampshire Avon. One evening in late spring a member of the Glacier AS committee kindly called at my home to take me to my first club meeting. His name was Howard Matthews, but everyone called him Ginger. We drove to the Black Horse pub, on the Grand Union Canal in Greenford, where the club meeting was held in an upstairs room. I sat quietly in a corner and observed  proceedings through the smoky fug. The chairman read the minutes of the previous meeting, asked if there were any 'errors, inaccuracies or omissions' and moved on to the night's agenda. This was my introduction to a world with which I became very familiar over the next few years. The coach trips were a great adventure to a youngster like me. Just hanging out with all these grown-ups was a novelty. Ginger took a generous interest in my progress, and I was a keen student. A few times he and I went on fishing trips in his battered old VW van, including my first ever visit to the River Kennet in about 1974. Ginger was married, with a small child, and in the warped light of 2020 it might come across a bit dodgy that a man in his 30s would take a young lad of 14 or 15 on an all-day fishing jaunt. All I can say is that such a notion never occurred to me. Nor to my parents I guess; certainly they never raised it. What I do remember is how encouraging it was to have Ginger and some of the other club members take a genuine interest, and teach me stuff. There was also banter and leg-pulling aplenty of course, and I remember the whole chapter with fondness.

I have less than a handful of photos from those days, and only one with me in it. Here I am, aged about 14, with a modest bream from the Great Ouse at Roxton in Bedfordshire...

That shirt!

 

Folks of my age who were birders as kids, rather than anglers, might have grown up with YOC trips and suchlike, and I'm sure were similarly inspired by the adult birders around them.

Likewise today, I have absolutely no doubt that kids benefit from kind encouragement as they pursue their interests. Older enthusiasts have a wealth of knowledge and experience, a fertile source of motivation for youngsters. Possibly without realising it, they can coach, inspire and set a good example. And when those kids grow up, perhaps they will look back, as I do, and be grateful for the Gingers of their youth.

However, the world of 2020 presents challenges. For example, Sunday coach trips with the fishing club are a thing of the past. YOC-type outings likewise I expect, though I could be wrong. As I was pondering how to write this post, a question came to mind...

Where do I meet young birders these days?

This is a sobering question. I never see them. In the 18+ years that I've lived in this part of the country I can only think of a couple. One of them is now in his 30s, and I'm not sure the other is even a birder any more. So the answer to that question, for me, is not 'in the field'. So, where then?

On Twitter, that's where. I don't do any other social media, so cannot speak for them, but birdy Twitter is populated by a good number of keen teenagers. In the past year or so I've become increasingly aware of that fact, and now that I have finally noticed them all I feel kind of obligated to do something about it. So I have started making an effort to 'follow' them, to 'like' their posts, and sometimes to respond to the questions they ask. One young birder on Twitter, a sixteen-year-old, recently posed this one: 'How many lifers has everyone had this year and what was best?' It is really heart-warming to see that this innocent question has garnered more than 150 replies, mostly from adults. I wonder how our young fellow birder felt on getting that enthusiastic response? I have begun to see that Twitter is actually a vehicle with serious potential for encouraging youngsters. I must keep that in mind...

Last Knockings

The weather forecast was good for window cleaners today. Dry, a bit of sunshine, not too breezy, not too cold. A nice change from the wet, windy abysmalness which seems to characterise so many of our recent winters. Clearly a day on which to earn a few bob...

I first drove past the Axe Estuary around midday. There were far more gulls than I've seen there for a while. Many were small, and I didn't have time to do more than skim through those, but the big 'uns all got a proper look. Nothing. The knowledge that an Iceland Gull had dropped in at West Bexington this morning ensured I checked the gulls again later. And again.

Still nothing.

By now it's late afternoon. The light is dimming and I am literally on my way home. Via the estuary of course. A few large gulls on the far bank just N of the Seaton Marshes hide, so I pull over and hop out. A quick scan with bins, but again nothing of note. A couple of young gulls float past in the gloom, washing vigorously, and one of them looks rather white-headed. Sort of like a Caspian Gull. I watch it drift towards the distant shore and realise it might climb out onto the mud. Reaching into the car I extract my camera and fire it up. In this light, video is the only sensible option, so I steady the camera on my ladder, point it at the gull, zoom right up to 2000mm and press the red button...

I'd been watching the bird on the camera's viewing screen, and thought it looked quite promising for Casp, but it only gave me 35 seconds or so. Reviewing that brief clip in the car afterwards I was initially a bit unimpressed, and wondered if I'd been hoodwinked by a hybrid. So I lifted a few stills from the video for closer inspection. That cheered me up, and a prompt bit of positive feedback from Steve cheered me up some more. Not a classic bird perhaps, but lots of good features, and certainly enough to allay any fears that it might be a nasty hybrid thing.

A few video-grabs to illustrate some key ID features...

If you spot the deliberate mistake, should say '...and lower rump'

 

Once again I am reminded what a vital piece of kit my camera now is. Without it I would have a had a whole bunch of these: ???????????????

Funnily enough the last thing I expected my next NQS post to be about was a decent bird, but there you go. Life is full of nice little surprises, like one's 18th Caspian Gull.

A Trick of the Light

On November 24th I paid an exploratory visit to Kilmington WTW and was rewarded with rubbish views of what looked a good tristis candidate. There were only 2 or 3 regular collybita Chiffchaffs present, but I was confident that numbers would soon grow, and equally confident that the tristis (if it was one) would give itself up soon enough. Since that day I have returned at least three times, and yes, the Chiff population has grown. At least 15-20+ birds currently. But pale and interesting ones have been conspicuous only by their seeming absence. Until today.

If you've followed this blog for a while you will be aware of a slight obsession with tristis taking hold last winter. I made considerable effort to increase my understanding of the taxon through reading and research, and spent many hours with at least five different individuals through the winter. During this educational journey I became aware that there is still a measure of controversy regarding exactly what constitutes a 'good' tristis. Personally I reached a conclusion which aligns with the position of many other birders. Though not all. However, I shan't be opening that can of worms tonight. Instead I want to talk about light...

Birders (and photographers I'm sure!) constantly moan about the light. The light is too dim, too harsh, 'all wrong', or in a myriad other ways completely rubbish. How right they are! When picking through a flock of gulls there is nothing worse than glaring sunshine. I like a nice flat light, the kind you get on a dull, overcast day. Perfect for assessing those subtle shades of grey and brown. And the same is true for Chiffchaffs. At Kilmington today, most of the Chiffs were periodically showing well in a small clump of low trees. Unfortunately it was a bright day and the birds were almost always above head height, either against the sky or harshly side-lit by the sun. Not only that, but the strong light also tells fat lies about a bird's true shade and colour. This makes it more difficult than you'd think to pick out the pale bird from the less-pale, and affects how the camera sees it too. When I first clapped eyes on today's Sibe Chiff I spent a fair old while convincing myself I wasn't imagining things, and that it genuinely was much paler than the collybita birds. And after a few photos I couldn't help thinking that the images depicted a bird too brightly hued for a tristis. Thankfully the bird was quite cooperative, twice sitting still for a few minutes, and once dropping into a shady ditch briefly, where its striking paleness was immediately obvious. Anyway, here is a selection of the better photos...

One of the early shots. I think its paleness is obvious here.

If this had been the only photo I'd got there is no way I would have claimed a tristis. To my eye it looks far too green.

Notice the obvious greenish edges to the flight feathers (which is fine for tristis). Note also the abundance of food! It spent ages sitting in this spot. Horribly side-lit. How I wished a cloud would come and blot out the sun!

It preened, sunbathed...

...and responded beautifully to a short play-back of tristis song. Within three or four seconds it began wing-quivering vigorously, and continued for another few seconds after I stopped the recording. No collybita Chiff ever responded to tristis song when I tried this last winter. For me that's a clincher.

It wasn't until I was going through the photos at home that I realised the last shot looked like it was taken in flatter light, and the camera settings recorded in the EXIF data support that notion: higher ISO for the same shutter speed. Thank you, stray cloud!

This is one of those tristis that some feel isn't a tristis. But with my low threshold it's easily good enough! Hopefully not my last this winter...

Lunchtime Lump

Lunchtime fell rather late today. It was gone 2pm by the time I drove along the Axe Estuary. The tide was still pretty high and the gulls few, with barely any mud showing for them to stand on, so I was all set to go and look at sewage farm Chiffchaffs. However, a good bunch of newly arrived birds having a wash in the river off Coronation Corner made me get out of the motor and run the bins over them properly.

Lo and behold...

Glaucous Gull!

What a stunner! I love Glaucous Gulls, but see them all too rarely. My last Axe bird was 2013 I think, so I was really chuffed with this beast. They are so scarce down here that I was sure this would be the same individual which Clive found on Saturday morning, and the photos confirmed it. I wonder where it's been for the last four days? Hopefully there's a chance it might stick around...

White wings. Kind of...

 

Phil and Ian M were able to pop round to see it, proving once again the efficacy of a local birding WhatsApp Group. When they left I sat down to my sarnies finally. But when the Glauc hauled itself up on the far shore, dwarfing everything, I was forced to get the camera out again... 

 

Eno-o-o-o-o-rmous!

Glaucous Gull, and Glaucous Gull snack.

Age-wise this is a juvenile bird, with the classic biscuity plumage and dipped-in-ink bill. Beastly perfection...

Kev turned up, and reminded me that Glaucous Gull had wintered locally in the 1990s - before my time - which got us speculating about the possibility of this one doing likewise. I hope so.

Lyme Rocks

Despite the place being situated between home and work I almost never go birding in Lyme Regis. Not sure why, because it is certainly the best local spot for Dipper and Purple Sandpiper. Anyway, circumstances have conspired to put me in Lyme for a few days, so let's see what happens...

By far the most eye-catching Lyme resident right now is this stunner...

I mean... Wow!!

This gorgeous drake Eider has been hanging around Lyme Regis harbour for a few years now, a very incongruous sight in this neck of the woods. To my shame it's the first time I've made the effort to have a look. I'm glad I did. It looked absolutely amazing in the late afternoon sun. It's clearly feeling a bit frisky, and was displaying to anything which looked even vaguely similar to a female Eider, ie, was brown. The young Herring Gulls thus accosted were notably unimpressed.

Understandably, it captivated me for some time...

Just immaculate!

I didn't make any effort to visit the Cobb wall Purple Sands, but spotted this one poking about the harbour beach briefly...

Purple Sandpiper

The little River Lym (or Lim) flows through the town, and is a very good bet for Dipper. Frequently they are a bit shy, and views might be distant, or brief and fleeting. Today was not one of those times, and this bird seemed oblivious to the proximity of passers-by...

Dipper

Gorging on weeny fish...

...and even singing!

The only thing lacking in the Dipper encounter was sunshine. But the Eider made up for that later on!

At the end of the day I walked Monmouth Beach - where I saw a Black Redstart last winter - but it was very quiet today. Finally, strolling back towards town at last knockings I noticed that gulls were gathering in good numbers to the east, off Church Cliff. Very good numbers - several hundred large gulls and a sprinkling of small ones. The light was too poor and the distance a bit too great for bins alone, but there were certainly no white-wingers amongst them. A 2nd-winter Med Gull was nice to see, and I perched the camera on a wall to take a few photos. When I checked them later I realised the bird was wearing a red colour-ring!

2nd-winter Med Gull. I can almost read that ring...

Look at this bunch of lovelies! Might try again tomorrow. With a scope!

This is a bit of a 'went there, saw that' kind of post, but hopefully it's been worth it for the Eider alone. And just to put a cherry on it, a couple of short videos to close: The Dipper quietly singing, and the Eider displaying. And if you listen carefully you can hear the Eider doing that amazing thing that Eiders do. Makes me smile every time...

Perfectly Sociable

The recent discovery of a Sociable Lapwing in Cornwall reminded me of an exciting episode that featured in NQS Mk 1. So I've dipped into the archive for this topical excerpt...

 

12th October 2008 - A Little Twitching

...we headed round to Old Town via a Black Redstart (trip-tick pour moi) and then up to the Longstone Cafe, where most of us spent about half an hour consuming sensible lunches, whilst I spent one and a half hours consuming most of their stock. Eight thousand calories later I was helped upright and we v-e-e-e-ry slowly made our way towards Trenoweth, right up the far, far end of the island, where we were hoping to add another Yellow-browed Warbler to our tally. Just as we heard it call, Paul's pager went off. Olive-backed Pipit at the Dump, almost all the way back to Hugh Town - a good 45 minute walk (a brisk one, even). Should we bother? We were very tired, and I was very turgid, but how could we not? My bulging gut was absolutely delighted to be bounced vigorously back down the island. We arrived to news that it had flown ages ago, up towards the Health Centre. OK, enough torture, let's walk very gently indeed back to our digs up on the Garrison - another 20+ minutes. I was, frankly, knackered.

Once indoors I flop gratefully into a chair. The pager again: OBP relocated in field next to Health Centre! It has to be done. Paul and I head out once more, down the hill towards Porthcressa, and up the steep and evil Buzza track to the Health Centre. Trying to look cool and relaxed whilst gasping and sweating is a tough number, but I think we pulled it off. The bird hadn't been seen since the pager message had been put out. Great. There were quite a few hopefuls peering into the field from all angles, and we joined a crowd out on the main road to await developments.

Ah, this was twitching - just like I remembered. The chasing, the dipping, the sweating, the hoping it pops up in front of YOU, and not that lot over there. One tool that Paul and I did not have was a CB radio (or whatever they're called these days). However, lots of them were attached to nearby birders, and suddenly they all crackled into life:
"Er....possible...er, possible, um.......Sociable Plover......[static]....[graunch].....towards Porthellick....."
Oo-er, no mistaking the import of that! Everyone, to a man and woman, about-faced and peered in the direction of Porthellick (which was totally out of view, way over the other side of the airport). Look at them all:

After a few minutes of folks at Porthellick saying "nothing here" and everyone starting to relax a bit and to think "string, I'll bet it's total string" another voice seeped out of the ether. Now it has to be admitted I am paraphrasing, but I promise I am not making this up - the radio exchanges went something like this:
"Er, on the airport...on the airport...there's this, um....bird....I'm looking at this bird"
Silence.
"Hello? Birder on the airport? Come back?"
"Yeah, I've got this bird on the airport.....by the turning circle"
Dick Filby, brisk, authorititive, mildly frantic: "What bird do you have on the airport??"
Our mate on the airport is clearly a little shy about using actual species names, and launches into a tentative description.
"It's got...er...black wingtips......"
"What kind of bird is it?"
It's like Twenty Questions. But quite exciting. A little thrill is rippling through the assembled mob.
"....and a creamy supercilium...."
By now you can hear the clatter of tripods being collapsed and folded.
"...and a dark crown...."
OK. That's enough! Let's GO!
Somehow Paul blags a lift off a local with a Transit van full of builder's gear and 4 of us pile into the extremely cluttered back. As he's shutting the door and putting us into total darkness he casually mentions that we should be careful, 'coz there's a load of glass and stuff in there. One of the guys immediately wants to get out again (I kid you not), but it's too late - there are three of us between him and the door (which is locked anyway) and we've already started to move. A few minutes later we are spilling out again - all of us surprisingly intact (and one of us possibly slightly embarrassed) - and hurrying across forbidden bits of airport. Scope up. Well I never......

Sociable Plover - an authentic Scilly Airport biggy!

By now it was gone 6:00 and pretty soon after this a load of mist rolled in and blanketed the island. We nabbed a taxi to take us back to the Garrison, briefly glimpsing the Red-breasted Flycatcher that had turned up there earlier in the day. A 5 minute hobble to the cottage and we were done. Totally.

The next day the Friendly Plover paraded (very slowly, and occasionally) around the Standing Stone Field at Lower Moors. We rolled up just after midday and I performed a little digiscopy. Here is a selection of the more in-focus efforts:

[Edit. Actually, in the spirit of 2020 minimalist birder's photos, here is just one effort, arguably the most evocative one...]

The Standing Stone field doesn't look much like this any more

___________________________________________

Today's birding was squeezed into about five minutes between jobs, and another fifteen at the end of the day. Not without reward though. Steve discovered three Egyptian Geese on Bridge Marsh at lunchtime. The species is rather scarce locally. But then so are Black Swans and free-flying Budgerigars. Anyway, I still went for a quick look...

Oof! Get IN!

As dusk fell I hoped that a Cattle Egret or two would fly in to roost with the Little Egrets at Coronation Corner. In the event I did even better. Four Cattle Egrets dropped on to the far bank of the river among a group of 20+ Littles, prompting me to try for a photo in the gloom...

Cattle Egrets are far left, third from left, and the two birds immediately right of the Heron. Obviously.

Still Birding. Just.

Well, it's been three weeks since the last NQS post. Three weeks of intensive DIY, a modest helping of paid work and a little birding. Where shall I start? Do you want to know about the hot & cold replumb? The kitchen downlights saga? Are you even slightly curious about the pipe-soldering power of a Rothenberger Superfire 2 gas torch? Exactly. Which is why this blog has been a bit quiet.

Also there has been running. Previous efforts to get a decent running habit established have been thwarted by injury every time, so I'm trying a run/walk type approach. This involves alternating 2-10 minutes running with 30 sec-2 min walk breaks. So far so good. I've got about nine runs under the belt in three weeks, mostly around 3-4 miles, and can already detect a reasonable improvement in the cardio-vascular department. I was never a fast runner, but in my early thirties once managed slightly quicker than 6'30" per mile for a half marathon. At nearly twice that age (and almost 10kg heavier) it is sobering to realise just how out of reach is such a blistering pace! Never mind, at least I can still run!

I've noticed that my urgent need to get out for an early birding walk has waned somewhat. There have been one or two short afternoon outings at the weekend, but most of my mid-week birding has involved lunchtime. And already I've been investigating the sewage works for Sibe Chiff potential. So far there have been few Chiffs of any kind, with 6+ at Colyton WTW the best count. However, I did have brief and annoying views of a good tristis candidate at Kilmington, but there was no sign of it on a subsequent visit. Early days though...

My best recent bird is probably this...

This Seaton Black Redstart was a nice distraction from work last week.

It is rapidly approaching the season when gulls occupy more of my birding time than almost anything else. In fact, that's happening already. Even a recent visit to West Bexington beach was basically just gulls and little else...

Several Med Gulls, but nothing bigger and more exciting.

There is loads more DIY on my to-do list, and with the added constraints of short winter days and the need to earn a few bob, my birding time is going to be at a premium. Still, if you see me parked up beside the Axe Estuary, peering at gulls, you can be certain of one thing...

It will be lunchtime.