Walking. Not Gardening.

I must write a gardening post soon. I am well aware that many birders are all-round naturalists, and will be very interested in my efforts to tempt creepy-crawlies into the grounds of NQS Manor. Actually I am a shocking gardener, and must tell you about when I...

No. Another time.

Anyway, while I was up to my knuckles in green fingers today, at least 5 Swallows went through, and a bonus Red Kite which actually set off the gulls. The first one this spring to do so; the others have been too high. Swallow brings my #BWKM0 list to 35. Frustration of the day was an egret sp which went over N. Only my second egret from the garden, and I caught only the back end. A two-second glimpse really. Dark feet! Possibly. I ran around to the front, but the bird was hidden behind trees. Yeah. I know. Of course it was a Little Egret, but you've got to take any and every opportunity to gee yourself up a bit in these #BWKM0 times, right?

Yesterday I went for a serious exercise walk. Nice and early, and all the way to the sea. Obviously I didn't actually seawatch, but a couple of scans produced some 30+ Common Scoter heading E. So that's what the treacherous creatures are doing; migrating by day, over the sea, instead of by night, over my house. Two ducks which obviously were not Scoters, but were a little too far out for my bins, succumbed to the P900...

Nikon Coolpix P900 sorts distant ducks. Wigeon.

I am so gutted that the spring seawatching season has been blown out of the water by this poxy virus. I am really looking forward to trying to get skua photos/video with this camera one day. One day.

Other stuff from the big walk...

Confiding Skylark. It was great to hear quite a few in song.

A presumed migrant Mipit having a breather.

One of just two Wheatears seen. A bit coy.

Call that a bill? This is a bill. (Movie reference for the almost-elderly) Raven.

First Holly Blue of the year. Always a real treat.

There was basically nobody about during the outbound part of my walk, but a few more on the return. Living in an area with such a modest population density has its advantages when the only folk you ought to be encountering are locals, because there are relatively so few of them. I would hate to be trying to get some socially-distanced exercise in a city.

Most of the day was then spent in the garden. Bird-wise unexciting, until a dark shape appeared, heading S. I grabbed the camera, switched it on, zoomed, focused, and rattled off a single burst of three shots before it went out of eyeshot. Cormorant! New for the BWKM0 list. We get the odd one in winter, but they're not common.

Cormorant. Sometimes I can do flight shots.

It is now about 22:00. For the last three nights I've been outside about now, wrapped up in winter clobber, listening carefully to the sound of an empty sky. I reckon I've given it a fair crack.

A night off, I think. I'm not a complete idiot.

Naked Nocmig and Other Stories

Last night nearly the whole birding community was mobilised in a shared endeavour: getting Common Scoter on the BWKM0* list. After dark, seething hordes of them lift off from their wintering grounds and undertake a stealth migration. Their nocturnal route takes them overland, and their calls can be heard from the ground. It's a route which carefully avoids Bridport.

I was outside in the amazing silence for two hours from 22:45. The only definite bird noises I heard were an optimistic Robin and something which sounded like a muted version of a Great Spotted Woodpecker's 'kik', presumably a Tawny Owl. Ultra-distant dogs are a pain. Their yaps and yelps can easily sound like an interesting flight call. Or perhaps it's the other way around, and I mucked up several cool birds by dismissing them as dogs.

So, of the 5,320 birders either outside on the patio or recording last night, it seems that just me and three others failed to get Common Scoter.

Naked nocmig? That's the acoustic kind, with ears, as opposed to the electronic version, with its microphones, recorders and software...and blissfully sleeping operators.

I did make one schoolboy error. I thought it would be pleasant to start the session with a nice cup of tea and some biscuits. The moment I bit into my first chocolate and ginger cookie, I realised I shouldn't have. Crunch, crunch, CRUNCH! It's deafening. From then on it was 'dunk and suck'.

I shall try again, but it was not an auspicious beginning...

My BWKM0 list is pretty rubbish. I'm on 33 right now. Today's additions were Coal Tit, Bullfinch and Grey Wagtail. The sky was enlivened by a Red Kite - my first for several days - and up to six Buzzards, plus one or more Sparrowhawks and a Raven.

My first hirundine of 2020 was a Swallow on April 1st while out for a bike ride.

This might be Buff-tailed Bumblebee. Whatever, it's number 2 on the bee list.

Raptor Watch Squad. Very useful to have around.

Nikon P900 on a tripod. ISO 100 and a 2" shutter delay. Very pleasing

I've heard tell that you can set up your scope and point it at the full moon, and then enjoy the spectacle of nocturnally migrating birds passing across its glowing orb as silhouettes. I first heard about this back in the very early '80s when I was quite new to proper birding. The bloke who told me about it was a well-known (at the time) London birder, a lot older than me, and he happily bragged about the two Cranes which had repaid his moon-watching efforts just the other night. I lapped it up of course. The notion of such 'advanced' birding, and the skills it clearly required, impressed me hugely. However, as I later learned, the birder in question was actually a notorious stringer...

For some reason I have never forgotten that little experience, and have consequently not once pointed my scope at the full moon and sat down for a session of moon-migging. Have I missed anything?

Who said 'Loads of Scoter!'?

Blue Tit posing.

Coal Tit. Not an everyday garden bird for me.

Slow worm today. Just look at that slinky perfection.

* That's 'Birdwatching at Kilometre Zero'

Exercise and Birds

Do my fellow bloggers ever wonder, like I do, what impels our audience to click on a post and read it? Sure, sometimes it will be because the subject matter is clearly going to be of interest, something topical or controversial perhaps. But what about the mundane, everyday posts? Because that is what the majority are. Speaking personally, often I click and read because of the person behind the keyboard. The vast majority I've never met, but over time have come to enjoy their virtual company enough to want to spend a few minutes in it, whatever they want to talk about. So if that's why you are reading this, thank you, because 'mundane' and 'everyday' is what we have here today...

For Mrs NQS and me, 2019 was a rubbish year in one or two profound ways. None of this stuff ever makes the blog, and I guess this is generally true for other bloggers too. Life is life, and we all have our various coping mechanisms to help smooth the ups and downs, but baring all on the internet is not one of mine! Last year, feverish DIY helped a lot, but there was a cost; my exercise regime gradually went from regular to sporadic to non-existent. Up until yesterday I hadn't been on a proper bike ride for almost 12 months.

I own three bikes, and watching them grow a fine stubble of dust has been a constant source of shame. A few weeks ago I started running again, and quickly gave myself a knee injury in the usual way - by doing too much, too soon. Being about 20 pounds heavier doesn't help. So yesterday I wheeled out my winter bike, gave it a clean, adjusted the brakes, lubed the chain and took it for a spin.

The winter bike? It has mudguards and 28mm tyres, and a steel frame of leisurely geometry. But none of that influenced my choice. No, it has one other, more pertinent attribute. It has low gears. Very low. I am so unfit right now...

Grimly, I took it to Eggardon Hill. The climb that begins with Spyway Road is my go-to fitness tester, and I was determined to somehow navigate its assorted ramps without stopping. The first half is the worst, with a nasty stretch of 16-18%, but I paced myself. My strategy was basic. Engage bottom gear at the foot of the hill and keep turning the pedals. It worked a treat. There is a Strava segment based on the first 2/3 of the climb. Once upon a time I turned myself inside out to do it in 8'15". Yesterday I took a cool 13 minutes plus.

Eggardon Hill. Looking back, a sliver of distant shiny sea just visible.

At the top of Eggardon Hill is an expanse of farmland, and I passed a nice flock of Corn Buntings, with a few Yellowhammers for colour. It was blowing pretty hard though, a blasting cold NE, and the spooked birds were whisked rapidly away. I was glad of winter clobber and thick gloves.

Looking sideways. towards Devon. The view from this road has got to be one of the best in Dorset.

The worst of the climb is done at this point, and through eyes stinging with sweat you can enjoy the stunning view to the west, and up ahead see the looming ramparts that once flanked an iron-age hill fort. It is truly impressive. And knackering.

Looking towards the summit. Straight into a chilly headwind... 

Birds? I've mentioned the best on offer yesterday. Apart from a couple of in-flight Little Egrets I didn't see anything else of particular note. But there were birds. Birds going about their daily routines like the world was normal. Which it isn't. Which is why we need them.

Close to Home

I've never been a garden lister. I can tell you some of the smart birds we've had in/from our various gardens over the years, but I can't tell you numbers. Not even roughly. It's never interested me. However, this lockdown lark has prompted me to join in with Steve Gales's #BWKM0 Garden Birdwatching Challenge. I can't be involved in a competitive way (you need a current garden list for that) but certainly in spirit. So, how's it going?

Pretty slowly if I'm honest. Having lived here for five years I already know we don't reside beneath some birdy M1. If there is a flight line above us it is one of the migrant map's 'unclassified' roads. Skywatching from the garden is akin to the seawatch of death. You know the kind. You sit there, willing it to happen, just another 15 minutes, and another, and another...oh okay, ten more minutes, tops... And before you know it, hours of nothing have passed. Still, I did get a fly-by garden tick on Wednesday. Little Egret. Not a surprise really, because the River Asker runs just to the east of us, a regular haunt of at least one individual. Three Red Kites on Monday were delightful of course, plus I've had Raven most days, and Sparrowhawk a couple of times. But invariably, when the local Herring Gulls go off, it'll be a Buzzard or three.

Our garden is tiny, and extremely unattractive to birds, but at least we have one. I feel for birders stuck in garden-less appartments. After all, I can sit outside...

Mind you, there's been much less sitting than I'd like. Being at home all the time is a fine way to spot the myriad jobs which need doing. Or have them spotted for you. Which is a right nuisance. Today's #BWKM0 tick came during a tea-break. Jay. It takes my total to 30 species.

Being stuck at home is never good for me. I am well aware of this fact, and have struggled to keep the stir-craziness in check. Last night I finally cracked, and decided to take advantage of the 'exercise' concession this morning. I set the alarm and was out pretty early. In my whole circuit I encountered just six other people, all dog walkers. I met the local Little Egret, and was probably its first human of the day. It flew up from the river and perched rather obligingly in a nearby tree...

Little Egret, waiting for me to pass so it can get on with breakfast. Probably wondering why I have no dog.

On some high ground I came across a flock of 50+ Fieldfares, which was a surprise...

Fieldfares. Standard views.

And returning home I spotted something bobbing about in the long grass up ahead of me on the path. I was absolutely delighted to discover that it was a Stoat, the first I've seen in years. And the first I've got any kind of photo of...

Stoat - the only photo I managed

Other highlights were 16 singing Chiffs, my first 2 singing Blackcaps of the year, a Yellowhammer, and nice views of a pair of Great Spotted Woodpeckers.

It was nice to get out for a walk, and I shall certainly do it again, but probably not every day.

In the spirit of making the most of the situation, I photographed a bee yesterday. We have three pots of rosemary, and their abundant flowers attract the odd bee now and then. Tentatively we identified this one as a female Hairy-footed Flower Bee, so I was delighted to have this ID confirmed by a helpful chap on Twitter this evening...

Hairy-footed Flower Bee (female)

So that's it. The bee list is off and running...

Lockdown Rulebook. Not.

Mrs NQS and I haven't bothered with regular TV for about 35 years, so missed the PM's broadcast to the nation yesterday evening. Our son Baz sent a video clip and the transcript. As predicted, it's lockdown, if a somewhat soft version.

Like many, many others, my immediate concern was how it would affect me. Me. Because, regrettably, like many, many others, the first person I think of is me. Would I be able to work? Go birding? What did Boris say that might have a bearing on such matters?

Predictably, my interest focused in on this bit...

'That is why people will only be allowed to leave their home for the following very limited purposes:

• shopping for basic necessities, as infrequently as possible
• one form of exercise a day - for example a run, walk, or cycle - alone or with members of your household;
• any medical need, to provide care or to help a vulnerable person; and
• travelling to and from work, but only where this is absolutely necessary and cannot be done from home.

That’s all - these are the only reasons you should leave your home.'

NQS regulars may well know that I clean windows for a living these days. It has its pros and cons. Flexible 'lunchtimes' are handy for the birder in me of course, but rain is a killer. I simply cannot work in wet weather. After the most relentlessly wet autumn and winter I can recall since earning a crust in this fashion, I was so looking forward to this settled spell of dry stuff we're having right now. I actually want to go to work. I need to, if you get my drift. So, what guidance did Boris have for me?

Hmmm...what does 'only where this is absolutely necessary' mean? Travelling? Well, obviously I have to travel to jobs in order to work, so yes, it is 'absolutely necessary' to do so. Actually no, that is not what the sentence is saying. The grammatical object of everything after the comma is actually work, not travelling. Is window cleaning 'absolutely necessary'? Er...

Okay, so I'm not a key worker after all, but what about my birding? Decent seawatching is going to kick off soon, and the local coast will be jumping with migrants. Ah! Look at that! 'One form of exercise a day - for example a...walk...' Winner! I can walk and bird at the same time.

And then the icing on the cake. This guy...

Screen-grab from a BBC clip which appeared on Twitter this afternoon

Her: 'A question from Dave about exercise...'

Dave wants to know if his half-hour drive to the start point of his walk is okay, or must your exercise begin from home, ie, no driving. How does our...er...pundit respond to this?

Him: '...I think it's fine to drive and take exercise. There's no new regulations or new rules about that...and certainly there's no law that's going to stop you driving to take exercise.'

Cheers pal! Right, where are my car keys?

Perfect, eh? I can drive down to the coast, take my 'exercise' with bins and camera - steering well clear of all the others doing likewise of course - and upload my haul of goodies on social media later. My fellow birders will love that, won't they? Especially those stuck in some pokey little apartment in the middle of a city. Nothing better than a big fat dose of what you're missing out on.

Dave's question is an interesting one. It's the sort of question I would ask if I was looking for validation of an action I knew in my soul was a bit questionable. And that's exactly what matey on the TV gave him.

I'll be honest here. When the lockdown was announced, my initial thoughts revolved around what I might still be 'allowed' to do. That's because I'm basically a bit selfish and am keen to know what benefits me. One's instinct is to want rules. What can I do? What can't I do? Please draw the line for me...

But this is not about rules. It's about principles. And the underlying principle in this whole horrible mess is this:

Covid-19 is super-contagious and kills people.

And I'm perfectly aware that if I do everything in my power to be guided by that principle, then I hopefully won't even catch it. And if I have it already, keeping that principle in mind all the time will ensure I am much more likely to keep it to myself.

And when we operate on principles (rather than rules) we don't need anyone else to draw the line for us. For example...

Shall I stay at home or go out?
Principle: Covid-19 is super-contagious and kills people.
So then, which action shows that I am being guided by that priciple? Staying at home or going out? Staying at home or driving for half an hour and then taking some essential exercise?

It ain't rocket science.

But that's me. I realise everyone's circumstances are not the same, nor their viewpoint come to that, and it certainly isn't for me to judge. But if the infection/death rate doesn't slow down pronto, I guess we can expect restrictions to become more draconian. And go on for longer.

So, basically, I am at home. Do pop in for a cuppa. Oh, wait a minute...

Anyway, today's birdy highlights were a Raven and a Meadow Pipit. Yesterday I had 3 Red Kites over, and was really expecting one or more today in the superb high-pressure conditions, but no. In the absence of Red Kites today then, have one of yesterday's, and a House Sparrow...

Not quite stratospheric, but pretty high

Nice to have a few of these chirpy little oiks on the estate.

More about the from-home birding, Lockdown List, #BWKM0 etc shortly...

Thoughts For a Point in Time

Yesterday I did a stupid thing.

Keen for an afternoon walk I headed for Burton Bradstock beach with the intention of a long, shingly trudge to West Bexington and back. Unfortunately I hadn't thought this through. Alarm bells began to sound the moment I saw how full the car park was. Foolishly I pressed on regardless and ventured onto the beach, giving everyone as wide a berth as possible. By the time I got to Cogden I was fed up with zig-zagging back and forth to avoid people, and about-turned...

Burton Bradstock Beach. Taken with my phone, and therefore a wide-angle shot, this photo grossly understates how busy it actually was. 

I'll be candid here. I don't want to catch Covid-19. Both my wife and I are 60+ and I am sure it would at the very least be extremely unpleasant, at worst terminal. Our eldest son Rob lives in Switzerland right now. He is 37, but at 18 months of age he underwent open-heart surgery to correct something called Fallot's Tetralogy, a congenital condition. If he caught Covid-19 he would almost certainly do very badly. He is keeping away from people as much as possible. Both Rob and I are optimistic by nature, never melodramatic about risk or danger, yet both of us are trying to be cautious and prudent when it comes to this poxy virus. To me it is simply a no-brainer.

But all around me I see people seemingly oblivious to it all...

I must admit it's got me thinking. In W Dorset it is actually quite easy to go birding without crossing paths with anyone. The other day I took a couple of scenic shots locally which illustrate this...

West Bexington from the coast road. West Bex Mere on the right, village and beach car park on the left. 

East Bexington, viewed from the Abbotsbury end. 

Both locations pretty quiet and off the beaten track, especially first thing in the morning. But, like almost anywhere else in the country, a very rare bird could suddenly make them rather too popular. I have already noticed some birders on Twitter stating that they are no longer going to be posting their bird sightings - presumably because they don't wish to encourage twitching - and their stance has made me consider my own position on this.

If a full lock-down is as imminent as it seems, this may be an academic issue anyway, but if I am fortunate enough to find a singing Sardinian Warbler, say, suppression is not my default position. It will be hard.

I realise this is the kind of post which is just begging for a comment loaded with well-meaning counsel and advice from folks with their own views on various matters coronaviral. If you feel the urge, please resist it. I am simply sharing the thoughts of an average middle-aged bloke in strange times which are evolving extremely rapidly. Tomorrow? The next day? Who knows what I'll think then?

Context and Communication

A tweet from this afternoon...

I realise there are coastal locations where a passing Eider is no big deal, but the bowels of Lyme Bay is not one of them. Context is everything! Including today I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've seen passing drakes on a seawatch here. Exactly five. The most memorable occasion (21st April, 2007) involved a superb flock of 22 Eider, containing 9 adult males. So the reason for the tweet was more than a virtual air-punch, it was also a heads-up to any Dorset birding Twitter followers who might be in the field that a decent local bird was passing through. However, there was an unexpected response...

The best thing about Richard's message was the fact that the very reason I was out seawatching at all this afternoon was because of his own earlier WhatsApp report of a dozen Manxies past Charmouth, and now I was able to offer a little pay-back by confirming the ID of a bird which had almost slipped through his fingers. Cue warm, fuzzy glow...

I also began the day with a seawatch. I had no expectations really, which was just as well, because the hour or so from 06:30 at East Bexington was not brilliant. It was also flippin' cold. Passing birds were 2 Common Scoter, 83 Common Gulls, 2 Med Gulls, c20 Gannets, a rather distant wader which in mid-April I would definitely have called a Whimbrel, and not much else that I bothered counting or remembering. On the sea were another Scoter and a Red-throated Diver. The East Bex highlights were 2 newly-arrived Wheatears, 2 or 3 phylloscs which were presumably Chiffs, and 3 Blackcaps...

So fresh the paint is barely dry...

Cannot have too many Wheatears.

Male Blackcap catching some rays.

There is often a frenetic urgency to new arrivals on the coast. Those Wheatears were off and away up the fields and inland within minutes of hitting the beach, and the Chiffs too were zipping around madly in the strong wind.

On the drive back I stopped in a lay-by above West Bex for a quick scan, and immediately spotted a Red Kite just below me. It drifted away westwards, and I texted the Bex regulars. They'd already seen it over the village a few minutes earlier. Great.

Next stop: West Bay. I wanted to check out the wet field where I saw the Blackwit and Redshanks on Thursday. Today there was a Dunlin. Nice. While there is still potential I shall keep trying. Strolling back to the car I noticed a bit of gull panic going on and had a scan. Nothing. I walked on. Suddenly a Red Kite sailed over...

Not a great pic. I was a bit slow with the camera and botched my chance...

Naturally I assumed this was the Bex bird from earlier, and watched it continue westwards...and become two!

Such striking birds, and a real joy to watch.

Conscious that these beauties might hug the coast and therefore become available to my birding buddies further west, I sent both a tweet and a message on the Patch WhatsApp group. Much to my delight, these or others were seen by at least four or five birders between West Bay and Seaton. Once again, communication proves its worth.

And context? Well, a couple of weeks back I had to visit Aylesbury, the county town of Buckinghamshire. The place is crawling with Red Kites! I spent half my time there peering at the sky. At one point a flock of 15, plus a Buzzard, were circling above a small cluster of houses! I suppose you get used to Red Kites at roof-top level eventually, but for a birder who's lived in the southwest for 17 years it was simply amazing. Which is why news of  the West Bay birds was broadcast, and why its recipients kept an eager eye out. Down here, Red Kite is still a nice prize.

Which takes me back to the beginning, where Richard's WhatsApp message had got me out hoping to see my first Manxies of the year. In the end I didn't. But I did see bird-of-the-day drake Eider, plus 13 Common Scoters, 3 Shovelers, 2 definite Grey Plovers and 3 rather distant probables.

Today I was pretty jammy, bumping into the Red Kites like that, but I was able to share my jam with others. And because Richard generously alerted us all to a small afternoon movement of Manx Shearwaters, I also jammed a cracking drake Eider! Grey Plover is quite a decent local bird too.

Context.

Communication.

Two factors with which to enhance your solo, socially-distanced birding exploits...