What's in a Name?

Some birders are re-e-eal touchy about nomenclature. I use the word advisedly, because that is exactly what I mean, as in 'the devising or choosing of names for things, especially in a science or other discipline'. Well, birding is a 'discipline' (kind of) and the names you devise and choose to give to birding's 'things' (birds) is a matter of enormous consequence to some of those who practise it (birders).

To see what I mean, try this...

First, go to a random, very popular birding spot and find a Thrush Nightingale. [It's absolutely vital to do this before taking step two] Step two: run over to the nearest ten birders and politely say: 'Excuse me, but I've just found a lovely Sprosser in that sallow clump over there!'

Step three is trickier. On each of those birders you quickly need to perform a non-touching Vulcan mind-meld. Once achieved, this is what you will discover...

• Ten out of the ten will be delighted at the prospect of seeing a Thrush Nightingale.
• Five out of the ten will be gutted they didn't find it first.
• Three out of the ten will be struggling with a gag reflex and thinking very uncharitable thoughts because you called it a Sprosser.

Yes, the word Sprosser is a button-pusher. I'm not sure why. After all, der Sprosser (Luscinia luscinia) ist ein Singvogel aus der Familie der Fliegenschnäpper, und ist known by that very name right across...er...Germany. And (privately) by seven out of ten birders in random, very popular birding spots in the UK. But those other three hate it...

So here's a question. What is wrong with Sprosser? I am curious about why some of the names we use for birds appear almost universally acceptable, and some not. A few get sniffy about Bonxie instead of Great Skua, and more than a few when it comes to Tystie rather than Black Guillemot. Is it a quirky kind of snobbery? A judgement on what is and is not pretentious? Or cool? Something else?

And what about diminutives? I realise there are full-name pedants out there who simply cannot stoop to Lesser Spot, and will insist on all seven syllables of Lesser Spotted Woodpecker come what may, but they are few, and have my pity. Personally I am very comfortable with Mipit, but usually leave the other pipits as they are. I use Pied Fly, Spot Fly and RB Fly, but never Collared Fly (chance would be a fine thing) and see nothing wrong with Icky but don't really use it myself. Gropper always, also Barwit, Blackwit and LRP. I could go on ad infinitum, but you get the picture I'm sure. I use lots of diminutives and other colloquial names with easy familiarity. I don't feel awkward with them, or that I'm in some way forcing it, but I'm conscious that other birders might feel very differently about some of them. Yet there are many which I don't use, that I don't feel so comfortable with. Why is that? Fascinating...

A nice Melody I photographed on Scilly. Er...no... that's not one I use either.

Technology

Yesterday I stumbled across an article written by Andrew Moon for the 2015 London Bird Report. Entitled 'Reminiscences of a London Birder', it is a captivating read. In addition to recounting some memorable moments, Andrew documents some of the changes he has witnessed in 45 years of birding in the London area. One topic he touches upon is something easily taken for granted these days...

Technology.

When it comes to communication and photography in particular, technology has wrought changes unimaginable a few decades ago. And the impact on birding is huge. To illustrate...

In 1985 I found two Temminck's Stints at Staines Res. To put news out you needed two things: a stock of 10p coins, and a notebook containing all your contact numbers. Actually, three things. Also a working public telephone. Well, surprise, surprise...that day I needed just the numbers, because a fellow birder who fortuitously turned up at that moment was the proud owner of a car-phone! He didn't know me from Adam, but gave me the key to his BMW and sent me off, promising to keep an eye on the birds. I spent the first minute of each call in two-way exclamations of shock and awe. 'Seriously, I'm phoning you from some bloke's car!' 'Really?! ' 'Yes!' 'No-o-o!' 'Yes!'

And look at us now...

I wonder how many younger folk today realise what was involved in pre-digital photography? For example, as an ex-Kodak employee I can tell you that Kodacolor film comprised a polyester backing upon which was coated a pack of eleven (if memory serves...) microscopically thin, discrete layers. Colour paper needed a mere eight layers, on a resin-coated, waterproof base. In both film and paper manufacturing multiple layers were coated simultaneously, and each contained a cocktail of chemicals suspended in molten animal gelatin. Clever application of the laws of physics prevented the layers from mixing. This hot coating was then rapidly chilled and set, progressively dried and conditioned, then spooled up, wrapped, and finally shipped off to be slit and chopped into consumer-sized pieces. Being a light-sensitive product, all this was carried out in the dark!

Considering the process involved in its manufacture, and the fact that silver was a necessary ingredient among a host of expensive chemicals, it's little wonder that photographic film and paper was relatively pricey. And it only struck me recently, but how did a conscientious vegan cope with photography back then? Gelatin was unavoidable.

In terms of hardware, anyone aiming to photograph birds would need a single lens reflex camera (SLR) and a long lens. I can remember using a light meter in the early 80s, and focusing manually, and needing at least a basic grasp of photographic principles. My gear was seriously budget, but I'm not sure whether even the best equipment had automatic focus and exposure? Perhaps an aged photographer can enlighten me? Anyway, so you would twitch the mega-rarity, make a load of wild guesses involving knobs and dials on your camera, and after a right load of faff wind up with a film cartridge containing 36 (or, with a bit of luck, 37) exposures of your subject. And then there was a trip to the shop (usually a chemist) to hand your film in, and a few days of hand-wringing anxiety later the nervous return trip to empty your wallet in exchange for a sealed package. Before opening it you would first seek a quiet spot, then unpeel the flap with shaking fingers. Inside you would find your processed negatives and corresponding prints. Shuffling through them would invariably reveal 36 (or, with a bit of luck, 37) photographs of a streaky blur. Hence the quiet spot. In those days nobody wanted to see a grown man cry.

And look at us now...

Super-Steve's Seaton Serin

The only previous Axe Patch Serin was a November bird which flew past Steve during an Axe Cliff viz-mig watch more than a decade ago. It was a right gripper at the time, and as the years have gone by it's also become something of a blocker. Of course in those days Steve used to go birding. Unlike now. Now Steve has a family, and a serious 9-to-5 job, and a conscientiously responsible attitude toward both. Birding-wise this is a killer. Back in the day Steve was finding rare birds every other week. The man was a machine, and his ridiculous find rate is sorely missed by Axe Patch birders. However, the fact that Steve now only gets five minutes birding a month was the first item on the agenda at a recent Rare & Scarce Birds Association meeting, where the committee quickly realised it was a problem they could work around...

So, Steve Waite. How are we going to handle this?
Well, as he only gets five minutes a month nowadays we need to think about giving him something when he's not birding. Any suggestions?
What about when he's walking to work?
Excellent idea! We need a volunteer...
[A female Serin raises a wing]
Thank you. Oh, and don't forget to call a few times; he won't have binoculars.

And so it was that our Serin waited patiently for Steve to walk by yesterday morning, and then made sure she caught his attention. Unfortunately she botched it a bit. First, she forgot to give the usual ripply trill type flight call, and went for a rather more off-piste nasally thing. Plus she gave rubbish flight views (leaving Steve with all the frustration of a 'probable' sighting) and didn't hang about for someone else to nail later in the day. It is unlikely she'll be entrusted with such an important mission in future.

Today was her last chance...

Steve and I met up shortly before 08:00 this morning and headed for the Riverside Way area of Seaton. Within minutes we had a small bird fly over us. It might have been a Serin, it might not. But you know how it is in such situations; in the absence of a better option you just follow it up. And as the bird appeared to have come down behind the little trading estate, that's where we headed...

Strolling along, chatting and looking, and occasionally raising our bins at a Robin or Dunnock or something, we reached a corner and stopped, still nattering. Hmm...nothing. Suddenly a small bird popped out of the weeds and perched a few feet up in a spindly young tree, flashing a bright yellow rump en route! Both of us had caught it, and in unison exclaimed: 'That's it!' Sure enough, despite multiple obscuring twigs, we could see our prize - a streaky little female Serin - peering at us. Steve reminded me I had a camera, so I fumbled it out and got a few shots before the bird flew. And when it did fly it let rip with a short burst of classic Serin trill. Perfect!

Here are the best two photos. Almost identical, but not quite...

A beady eye and a stubby little bill. Quite clever how the P900 can thread its way through all those twigs and focus on the bird. Very pleasing.

A tiny bit more rump visible in this shot, and some yellow wash on the head too.

Unfortunately that was it, performance-wise. And despite quite a few birders out looking, the next sighting wasn't until about 13:00. I spent some time this morning trying to relocate it, and was rewarded with a bonus Black Redstart on the SE corner of the Tesco housing estate...

Black Redstart. Another full zoom, hand-held pic.

Finally, both the Serin pics above have been colour-corrected, so to speak. In reality we were blessed with a lovely bit of early-morning sunshine, but of course that gives everything an incredibly warm glow. It is beautiful, but kind of overpowers the subtle yellow bits on the bird. Here's the top image, with the original lighting...

Sumptuously sun-soaked Seaton Serin

While the Sun Shines...

I'm glad work takes me to the Seaton area. I would miss it otherwise, and probably have to find another excuse to visit. Pulling up at Coronation Corner shortly before midday I was delighted to see a lot of gulls. I even counted them (that's a first!) - the big ones anyway - and made it at least 1500. Almost all Herring Gulls. I couldn't face counting the hundreds of small ones though. My lunchtime sifting produced one measly Med Gull, which was pretty poor return for what must have been the best part of 3,000 gulls. Interestingly a mid-afternoon visit revealed a little arrival of Med Gulls, and I counted at least 10. Also there was a steady trickle of big gulls dropping in. Yet overall numbers looked the same or less, suggesting a turnover of birds. I think this quite often happens with the Axe gull population, and is part of the reason for my addiction to the darned things. Almost anything could have arrived since you had a look ten minutes ago, so you simply have to check them again. And again! Etc...

Today's star birds were actually ducks...

Four lovely Pintail. Pretty scarce on the Axe or its marshes.

When it comes to looks, drake Pintail are one of my favourites, so I was chuffed to spot these two pairs chugging up the river N of Coronation Corner. They eventually settled down over by the far bank, sheltering from the cold, blasting NW wind. I sypathised. It was pretty raw.

Near perfection in a duck.

After lunch I went hunting for a bird Steve had seen early this morning. A probable Serin had accosted him on his way to work. Knowing that he was without optics it chose to give him the most tantalising performance it could get away with...bar allowing him to nail it! Unfortunately I couldn't find it, and had to make do with a friendly Stonechat instead...

Nikon P900 at 1600mm zoom...

...and at full 2000mm zoom. Hand-held. ISO400, 1/320sec.

I am so pleased with this camera. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: many thanks to those who responded to my 'What camera should I get?' query back in October. I'm very glad I paid attention to the recommendations. The user-friendly versatility of the P900, plus the quality of its images, has added another level of enjoyment to my birding. Which brings me to something else...

On and off, NQS has been going since 2008. Although the earlier two incarnations are no longer extant, I can safely say that neither were ever as prolific as this one currently is. Since I posted 'My Happy Bird' on October 4th last year I've published 73 posts in four months (124 days) which is a bit more than one post every other day. I feel weirdly rejuvenated, with a new-found enthusiasm for both birding and writing. I cannot explain it. However, this prolificity (what a cool word!) is not totally out of character, and a pessimistic little voice in my head is telling me it won't last. Ah well... While the sun still shines, I shall make hay...

Getting There Eventually

Finding the occasional decent gull in a sizeable flock is always rewarding, and sometimes pretty exciting. But there is potentially a serious drawback...

Understandably that gull will immediately get my full attention. Then the camera comes out, and I'll be doing my best to capture as varied a set of poses as possible. 'What's wrong with that?' you may ask. Well, this all takes time, and if that gull grabbed my attention early on, chances are the rest of the flock hasn't been checked properly, if at all. I might easily be tied up with a lovely Caspian Gull, while an American Herring Gull is ten yards to the left, entirely neglected. I think this is a major failing of mine. I know I do it, but can't seem to help myself. I spot the good gull, and it's 'Hello-o-o. What's this...? Ooh! Quick! Get the scope on it! Where's my camera?!' I realise it's all out of fear my prize will fly away the second I take my eye off it, but it is not good, and will one day cost me dear. If it hasn't already...

I mention this for a reason. Last Tuesday's Axe Casp had me preoccupied for a considerable time. Eventually I managed to tear myself away and look at other birds, and one of them quickly caught my eye. I thought it was a 2nd-winter Yellow-legged Gull, so called Richard over to see it, then had a go at some photos. It was preening, and I got about a dozen shots before it simply upped and left. Here's one of them...

Bit of a bruiser

Okay, first of all this is not actually a Yellow-legged Gull. Any gull buffs reading this will probably have spotted my noddy error. Anyway, here's how my thinking went at the time...

• Those fresh grey scapulars are way too dark for Herring Gull. Must be YLG.
• The fact that it's got grey scaps = 2nd-winter
• Lack of grey median coverts = retarded 2nd-winter. 
• Whitish head/dark eye patch combo = YLG

By the way, that last point fits 1st-winter Yellow-legged but not 2nd-winter. More faulty thinking. Sigh...

So you're getting some insight into how my mind works when presented with a gull that I have to think about. It's not pretty. I make some glorious cock-ups.

Well then, what is this gull??

Another photo...

See those very pale inner primaries? A big clue. 

The darkish grey scapulars suggest three options: YLG, argentatus Herring Gull, or Herring x LBBG hybrid. The pale inner primaries rule out YLG. So that's one down. Hybrids tend to be smallish birds, and this beast is a right hefty lump. So not a hybrid. Which leaves one option. And that's what I reckon this bird is: a 2nd-winter argentatus Herring Gull. I suppose a process of elimination isn't the best way to ID birds, but it has its uses. To be fair, everything I can see in my photos appears to fit that conclusion, so I'm happy to go with it. Interestingly though, argentatus HG is rare in Devon. I've seen more Casps by a long way.

One last photo, with a couple of regular argenteus HGs to illustrate its brutish proportions...

An impressive bird. 

Finally, a quick word of thanks to Steve Waite and Josh Jones for help with this one. Much appreciated.

A Mixed Blessing

You don't have to dig too deep into this blog to realise I like gulls. There are many reasons, but one is the challenge they sometimes present when it comes to identification. Just lately I have been dead fortunate in having some really interesting gulls pop up in front of me, including four Caspian Gulls, three Yellow-legged Gulls, and one intriguing beast which I haven't written about yet. And then there was this afternoon's contribution...

West Bexington today. It was dull and a bit hazy, with a very fine spray in the air again. This is the scene that greets you as you trudge noisily west on the shingle...

Sea on the left, mere on the right, salty spray-spattered shingle down the middle

I know it looks a bit uninviting in the photo, but honestly it was lovely. The sea was still a bit heavy after yesterday's strongish wind, and every crashing breaker sent a gasp of misty spray up into the breeze. Very atmospheric. I arrived about two-ish, and until I bumped into fellow birder [Sidmouth] Clive Williams near the car park on my departure, not a single soul had been along the beach in well over two hours. Just me, the gulls, and this little chap...

Billy-no-mates Ringed Plover

There was a modest gang of big gulls loafing on the shoreline well along the beach. I know the gulls are pretty skittish here, so made sure I gave them a good grilling from a safe distance. I couldn't see anything of interest, but there were still a few I couldn't see properly, so walked a little closer. Too close. Up they went. Thankfully all were Herring and GBB Gulls.

Next on the agenda was the mere. I approached from the seaward side, just enough so that I could see over the shingle ridge. Hopefully any gulls on the water would see only my scope and my head, and stay put. And that's what happened. First scan through the small flock of 20-30 birds, and one individual jumped out...

L to R: 3rd-winter Herring Gull (foreground), 1stW HG (background), 1st-winter Eye-catcher, 2nd-winter HG, 1st-winter HG, near-ad HG

My first binocular scan of those distant birds made me reach quickly for the scope, and sure enough, that gleaming white head definitely belonged to a 1st-winter bird. Surely a Caspian Gull? Yes, a nicely speckled nape, extending onto the sides of the breast; a pale mantle and scapulars, with not too many bold dark markings. The tertials? Hmm. The greater coverts? Hmmm...

At first glance that bird is so-o-o-o Casp-ish in many ways. But...

Funnily enough, plumage aside, the first off-putting thing for me was the bird's 'look', basically its facial expression, including the bill. To explain what I mean, look at the 1st-winter Herring Gull on the right and imagine it with a white head. I reckon it would be near enough identical. I don't know what it is that gives Caspian Gulls their characteristic 'look' (maybe the position of the eye??) but for me this bird doesn't have it.

A few more pics...

So, what is this bird? First of all, it's not a Herring Gull. I cannot imagine a Herring Gull ever looking as Casp-ish as this. Which leaves two options. It's either a Caspian Gull or a hybrid/backcross thing. To be honest, my views in the field had already persuaded me that it was probably a hybrid, but out of curiosity, and a sense of respect for a smart gull (after all, a bird cannot choose its parents) I put it through the Gibbins et al 'trait-scoring process' as mentioned in this post. There were one or two traits I couldn't accurately gauge from the photos, so erred on the side of caution with them, but mostly it was all doable.

Gibbins et al state that the pure Caspian Gulls in their study scored from 12-25 and the Herring Gulls 29-37. Hybrids scored 22-32, and the authors recommended that no Caspian Gull with a score of 22 or more was safely identifiable as such. Today's bird scored 25. If I'd been able to see a bit more feather detail in the photos it might have dropped a point or two, but I doubt very much it would have scored 21 or less.

Conclusion? I am convinced this is my first Caspian x Herring Gull hybrid. One or both its parents evidently had a healthy dose of Casp genes, but at least one naughty Herring Gull has been dallying where it ought not, somewhere in the family's very recent history. Though of course, that's just my opinion.

All-in-all a fascinating, educational bird. And a perfect example of why I enjoy gulls so much.

A Deepening Relationship

Birding has been a bit more routine in recent days. Although it felt like the Axe was hosting a few more Med Gulls than usual when I last checked on Thursday, the flood of Caspian Gulls has dried right up. Not even one. Sigh... So, in the absence of jammy good fortune to share, I thought I'd write something short and sweet about how things are going with the Nikon P900. In last Sunday's post about the American Herring Gull there is a nice image which Mike Morse kindly let me use. It's a long way from exhibition quality, but it is precisely the kind of photo that makes me want to carry a camera around. It is a brilliant record shot of a rarity, and exactly what I want to be able to get if a rare or scarce bird gives me the opportunity. But...

It's a flight shot.

And that's a big 'but'. Getting flight shots with my old Panasonic Lumix FZ38 bridge camera was a skill I never mastered. One or two fluky jobs, yes, but consistent success eluded me. However, the eye viewfinder on the Nikon is miles better than the Lumix, so I'm determined to persist with it. I visited the Axe Estuary on Thursday and took this...

Straight off the camera (800mm focal length, ISO 140, f5.6, 1/500 sec)

Edited version

Considering this was my first attempt with a setting I'm trialling, I'm pretty chuffed with that. But the camera was set to single exposure, in other words to capture one shot at a time, and I quickly realised there might be a lot more mileage in going for flight shots with multiple-exposure like a DSLR user would likely do. So that's what I tried today. First though, a nice 1st-winter Med Gull from Thursday...

Even the 1st-winters are smart as you like.

So this afternoon I went to Abbotsbury and walked along the beach E past the tank traps, then turned and headed W past East Bexington and on into West Bex country, most of it on shingle. What a slog. I was hoping to relocate a Glaucous Gull which Mike had seen at West Bexington late morning, but it was not to be. The sun was high in the sky, so the light was poor for offshore fly-by gulls. But I did get some pics of a Black-headed Gull using my new 'flight shot' setting. Here are three (from a burst of five) straight off the camera...

And an edited version of the final one...

1200mm focal length, ISO 400, f6.3, 1/500 sec

Again, if that was a record shot of something a bit more exciting I'd be well happy with it. Before we leave Black-headed Gulls, here's another example of a hand-held, full-zoom photo, cropped to about 75% of the original...

2000mm focal length, ISO 400, f6.5, 1/320 sec

And before we leave full zoom, here's another photo from today. The subject is once again the ubiquitous Stonechat. Afterwards I measured out the distance; it was exactly 50 full paces, so at least 50 yards. Not quite hand-held, as I supported the camera on a fence post...

Unedited. 2000mm focal length, ISO 220, f6.5, 1/500

For a small bird 50+ yards away, with a bridge camera, not too shabby.

Finally, it wasn't all birds today. Quite a few Portuguese Man-of-War were on the high-tide line, only the second time I've seen these creatures. They look a bit sad on the beach, with what would be a long string of tentacles reduced to a cyan blob beneath the gas-filled sail...

They were all pretty small too, none more than about 75mm long.

Anyway, I'll press on with the flight-shot trials. Assuming it goes okay I'll report back at a later date with details of what settings I've been using, and why.