One Month Done

So that's January done. I feel like I've missed almost a third of it, but I doubt my Patchwork Challenge totals would have been vastly different even without the man-flu.

Bridport North - 50 species/52 points

Best 'expected' bird: Dipper. Best unexpected bird: Firecrest.

West Bay & Eype - 63 species/78 points

Best by far: Leach's Petrel. Little Gull also excellent. Firecrest, Goosander and Cetti's Warbler very pleasing too.

Both patches have been a joy to work, and produced one or two nice surprises. Neither is exactly romping away numbers-wise, but I am quite happy to plod along at a modest pace.

Failing at Woodcock bothered me briefly. I wondered about trying dusk watches, or even asking to borrow Tom's thermal monocular, but soon realised I don't really care enough. A big species count isn't that much of a motivator for me, but rather the unknown potential, the surprises I might encounter while birding somewhere that I've largely neglected. I suppose I'm not much cut out for a listing competition...

My points target for each patch is 100 and 215 respectively. I'll be pleased if I achieve or get close to them. In the meantime, let's just see what comes along...

Felt a little better this afternoon, so risked a walk around West Bay. A total of four Purple Sands was my best count yet, and a nice surprise. Also, the femalest of the female-type Black Redstarts was by the slipway.

Purple Sand at the end of the harbour wall - one of four.

Black Redstart - much less of a poser than this pic would have you believe. It was in almost perpetual motion.

Almost no white at all in the wing of this one.

Naturally I looked at Rock Pipits. There were at least nine on the field behind Rise restaurant, though four flew off, and none let me get close. Typically these birds are difficult to approach, and take flight quite easily. I struggled to get any photos at all today. Just a handful at range, like these two...

Same as the closer bird in the photo above. Could be littoralis...or not.

A little later I came across three more on the rock armour of the harbour wall. These were far less shy. Was that because of the habitat? Or because they were petrosus? Or because they were littoralis on a wind-up? Who can say? Anyway, I got decent photos of two of them.

Slowly I am building a pictorial library of West Bay Rockits. Like the Burton Freshwater birds I spent time with last year, I would like to work out how many individuals I am playing with here. Whatever comes of it, I know it will be fun...

This one is the first I've noticed with a pinkish base to the bill.

Same again. In this shot the flank streaking appears to coalesce into a messy dark patch. Compare with photo above.

And again. A distinctive little notch in the tip of that inner right greater covert.

The second bird. A more typical yellow bill base on this one.

Same again.

On a completely different note, I'm currently revisiting a BB paper on a massive fall of migrants that occurred many years ago. I was six years old when it happened, but reading the account makes it hard to believe that I was alive at a time when there were actually that many birds. One thing is for certain: it will never happen again in my lifetime. Scratch that. It will never happen again, ever. Hopefully this mind-boggling event will make for an interesting NQS post soon...

A Tale of Two Books

This morning brought lovely news: Low Carbon Birding has won the British Birds & BTO 'Best Bird Book of the Year' prize for 2022. What a well-deserved accolade. To my mind, the book is unique. The ideals it promotes are gaining ever more traction in birders' discussions and - more to the point - actions, and its diverse collection of essays offers a thought-provoking taster for anyone interested in the topic. To have been personally involved in it was a privilege I treasure.

Low Carbon Birding is the second book I have contributed to; the first was Best Days with British Birds, published in 1989. Back then, a typescript was truly a typescript! In fact, my chapter was written almost 40 years ago, in late 1983. Reading it now, I do cringe a bit. Too wordy by far, a weakness that still afflicts me today. My essay is sandwiched between two illustrious names of the ornithological world - Ian Lewington and Guy Mountfort - and many of the other authors are equally well known.

At the time of publication, my favourite chapter was the tale of an epic twitch, from Scilly to Fair Isle in October 1980. I haven't read the whole book for many years now, but plan to rectify that soon. I can absolutely guarantee that I will end up with a new favourite chapter. Yes, the twitch account is a thrilling roller-coaster ride, and very relatable, but in my view belongs to another era. My circumstances back then would not have allowed such weapons-grade twitching anyway, but if they had, would that have been me? I was very surprised to read the following in my own chapter...

The sort of feeling that I enjoyed that morning comes far more often, and with far less-rare birds, on a well-loved and familiar local patch, than it does on infrequent visits to Cley or Dungeness or wherever...So, although I frequent the odd twitch and visit the various coastal hot-spots from time to time, I still find the most satisfaction is to be had locally, and would recommend the patch-flogging philosophy to anyone.

Following several years of dabbling, I had been birding intently for about two years when I wrote that. Twitching did get a stronger grip for a while from the mid-1980s, but it is heartening to know that in older age I seem to have got back to my roots. A nice place to be.

Let the Games Begin

Back to the dull, innocent stuff today. Finally ventured out this afternoon for an hour at West Bay. Mostly I mooched about the field behind Rise restaurant, trying to sneak up on Rock Pipits. Revisiting photos from last spring's 'find a littoralis' project the other day did fire me up - as it would anyone - and I was eager to make an early start this year. Little blighters were not cooperative, and the light was dire, but I got a handful of useful shots. After that I had time to walk to the seafront, see the broad, grey wall of damp approaching from the west, and quickly turn tail so that I could spend at least a few minutes with the River Brit gulls before the drizzle got too soggy...

This one was a bit distant, but always looked pretty swarthy through bins. Never saw the underparts that well.

Assuming I've got the exposure about right, this one is in a different class altogether. Paler uppers, pale ground colour below, and dark flank streaking seemingly quite narrow. Going by last year's experience I would happily call this littoralis right now. If it's this pale in January, by March it should look great.

Same bird again. Much paler above than first bird. Interesting that its supercilium is nothing special.

In the literature there is a lot of 'you cannot safely tell littoralis from petrosus in winter', and for decades that has been my mantra too. Last year's Rockit games made me wonder about that. Is there really too much overlap? I know that far better birders than me think winter littoralis is doable. I suspect I am going to wind up agreeing with them. The bird in those last two photos cannot be petrosus, surely?!

Here it is again, in a collage shot with yet another bird which only gave me a brief chance...

These two are not side by side in the field; this is a collage. The bird on the right is my littoralis candidate pictured above. Look at those underparts! And if I have the colour balance reasonably matched on both sides of the collage, that bird has a subtle, but noticeable, warm buffy tone to the ground colour.

I am so convinced that this Rock Pipit is a littoralis that I entered it as such on BirdTrack. So if I did have any reputation as a reasonably cautious observer left, it is now flying in tatters. Ah well.

Expect a lot of Rockit stuff...

Before I got too cold and damp, a quick couple of gull photos...

View up the Brit from the harbour bridge. There was a constant trickle of gulls dropping in, with maybe 30-40 present at any one time. Newlyn it is not, but with gulls...well...you never know. One day there will hopefully be a nice prize. Today though...

...just Herring Gulls.

When it does happen, at least the photos should be okay.

Birding off-piste

According to Google, 'off-piste' simply means 'away from prepared ski-runs'. The term is frequently applied to all sorts of non-ski activities of course, and here is a lovely example from my Twitter feed yesterday...

Living and birding on Barra is pretty off-piste in its own right but, as Bruce demonstrates beautifully, it is still possible to take things to another level.

In the definition above, the word 'prepared' struck me. A huge amount of birding could be classed as 'prepared'. An obvious example being your local reserve, with its circular walks and hides. In fact, almost any popular location, be it a coastal hot-spot or inland reservoir, is 'prepared' to some extent. A maybe less obvious example: the ubiquitous bird news that impels us to go here or there, to see this or that, in company with many others. Yep, 'prepared ski-runs' is arguably what this all is.

I've never been skiing, but assume that folk are encouraged to stay on the prepared runs because going off-piste could be dangerous. Birding-wise ditto. Very dangerous. You might miss stuff, or see less than everyone else. And there is another danger, which I'll come to shortly.

In truth, off-piste birding can be very rewarding of course. There might be the odd, crazy rarity for some. But Harlequin Ducks and their ilk are exceedingly few and far between, so what else can we expect? I suppose that depends on how broadly we apply the principle. A step further than off-piste locations are off-piste topics. Last year's littoralis Rock Pipit project springs to mind. I mean, who does that? To a lesser extent, sinensis Cormorants too, I guess. I enjoy this kind of stuff very much.

On Twitter I follow one birder who studies the movements and habits of birds using a stretch of the N Kent coast; how they are influenced by tides, disturbance, etc. Very off-piste. And another who enjoys working out the vis-mig flight lines in his local Surrey hills, and umpteen other off-piste activities...

I mentioned another danger, didn't I?

I cannot help noticing that the few NQS blog posts which feature big rarities, or some other unambiguously spectacular content, generally get the biggest viewing figures. I have to accept that my writing is unlikely ever to appeal to the masses. Because, yep, off-piste is largely boring to others.

Recently, my Twitter feed has been full of two particular birds. A stunning adult Sabine's Gull and, until its recent departure, a 2nd-winter Laughing Gull. Both undeniably photogenic and lovely, yet I did not for a moment feel inclined to visit either. I honestly cannot explain why. Don't get me wrong, this is not a moral choice or an anti-twitching thing - far from it - I simply am not interested. No, I would rather bore my small and sorely-tried readership with 'Continental' Cormorants...

A few days ago, before I got this stinking cold, I realised that my walk up the Mangerton River valley could be spiced up massively by squinting through the hedge around the two-acre Mangerton fishing lake. While trying to work out whether those two Cormorants on the distant, unfrozen bit might be sinensis, a Kingfisher flew in and perched up in the bankside vegetation behind them. Result! No pics of the Kingfisher, but...

Well, that Cormorant on the left is sinensis, for sure.

And earlier that day, in West Bay Harbour...

Definitely sinensis, this was one of [probably] two.

Suddenly they're everywhere. Mind you, they're only visible because I'm off-piste right now.

While I'm in West Bay I ought to show you these pics too...

The recent cliff fall. Now that the East Cliffs have got that little unpleasantness out of their system, evidently there is no danger of further collapse anywhere else along this notoriously unstable stretch. I mean, those folk on the beach can't be wrong, can they?

Frost-art

So, yes, I have a stinking cold, and feel lousy. But stir-craziness made me wrap up this afternoon and shuffle off down the river behind our place. Highlights were a Goldcrest, a Bullfinch, 2 Great-spots, and 3 Chiffs. The latter were all together at one point, feeding in a sun-kissed patch of short vegetation. Mostly they were creeping about in it like mice, but very occasionally perched up in view. A sheer joy to watch...

More boring stuff soon.

Definitely no Harlequins.

From Purps to Protractors

Well, the chill came. Sort of. And as I sat down at the laptop earlier, it was actually snowing . Big, fat, wet flakes. The first we've had for about four years I think. It even settled...

Rare Bridport snow in progress.

Bird-wise I can't say a lot happened. Early-morning visits to West Bay have not produced Golden Plover, nor any interesting ducks. By far the best bird was a Purple Sandpiper back on the harbour wall first thing yesterday, which by the afternoon had become two...

Two Purple Sandpipers. Little beauties!

Bird 1

Bird 2

Purple Sanderling

I did visit the spot where I flushed two Woodcock during the mid-December freeze, and put a single bird up. Unfortunately it flew out the far side of the thicket, and I failed to see it. Can I count a loud clattering of wings?

Yesterday I walked the cliff-top coast path which runs alongside the local golf course. A good count of 11 Skylarks on the golf course, and a female-type Black Redstart in exactly the same spot as last time I walked this path, a few weeks ago...

Black Redstart in the act of despatching some small, wriggly thing.

I get an awful lot of Black Redstart photos like this.

So, that happened yesterday.

And this happened today...

That massive rock-fall includes a hefty chunk of clifftop!

I am one of those risk-averse types who keeps well away from cliff edges, but I wonder how close to the path that fall got? And on the rare occasions I have walked the beach there, it has always been at low tide and close to the water's edge. You would not believe how many folk you see blithely strolling along at the foot of those cliffs. And in the summer, whole families set up for the day on that beach. Mad! And it's not like there are no warning signs.

In the case of this particular fall, close to the water's edge would not have been far enough away...

A couple of people circled to give it some scale.

This afternoon I headed up the valley towards Mangerton - part of my Bridport North patch - and was surprised to see a small flock of Cormorants fly over. Ones and twos are not unusual, but there were nine. They circled a couple of times, before dropping in to some riverside trees. Five were perched up in full view, and they reminded me of what is a fairly typical sight on big, inland gravel pits - arboreal Cormorants. In the home counties I would expect such gatherings to include many (mainly?) 'Continental' Cormorants (P. c. sinensis), but here? Three miles from the Dorset coast?

On the Axe at Seaton, and locally in West Dorset, I have checked countless Cormorants for possible sinensis birds. I've had a few reasonable candidates, including one or two probables that I couldn't be bothered to follow through on, but most birds have been unequivocally nominate birds, i.e., P. c. carbo. Sinensis seems to be genuinely rare, at least on the coast. Still, nothing ventured...

So I took some photos...

To my eyes, this bird is spot on for sinensis.

Re the caption above: how can I say that?

It's all down to the gular pouch angle. Thus...

This is dead easy to measure in the field. All you need is a protractor. And a tranquilliser gun.

There is a 2004 paper on this topic (which is where I got those figures) and you can find a link to it HERE. There is a very good article in the Devon Birds journal too, but I cannot remember which issue and no longer have a copy. Basically, any Cormorant with a gular pouch angle pushing 90 degrees (or greater) is definitely going to be sinensis*. The only proviso is that your bird needs to be in perfect profile. I took photos of all five, and these are as close as I got to the requisite side-on shot...

Apart from the youngster, I would say there isn't much argument. The protractor has spoken.

The young bird is probably border-line, but I'll bet it is sinensis too. In fact I would not be surprised if all nine were.

I have no idea what the Dorset status of this subspecies is, because sinensis is not even mentioned in any of the four most recent Dorset Bird Reports (2018-2021 - the only reports I have) and gets very sketchy treatment in The Birds of Dorset (2004), the county avifauna.

So there you go. Cormorants. Common birds, but - if you can be bothered - entertainment a-plenty.

* This is a bit simplistic, but will do for me.

A Change in the Weather

With the forecast predicting one, maybe two, sub-zero nights this week, I wonder if the brief chill will be enough to stir things up a bit? Golden Plover perhaps? Woodcock? A massive influx of Smew at least? I must get around to fleshing out the PWC 2023 page on this blog, but the current tallies are 60 species (73 points) on the West Bay & Eype patch, and 41 species (43 points) for Bridport North. Apart from the West Bay Leach's Petrel, nothing too unexpected. An afternoon walk around Bridport North today added Bullfinch, Dunnock (must have missed that off by accident previously), Long-tailed Tit, Goldcrest and Sparrowhawk. One of the Bradpole Firecrests showed nicely too...

Eye candy.

On Friday I happened to be working near the Axe Estuary when two Avocets turned up at Colyford Marsh. A quick look from the Axmouth road, and some classy pics from 600m...

Avocets on the Colyford Marsh scrape.

When it comes to waders the Axe is in a different league to the Bridport recording area, which apparently has a wader list of about 26. And at least one of those (Stone-curlew) has occurred only as noc-mig records. All I've managed so far in 2023 are Snipe and Lapwing. Meanwhile, the Axe wader list stands at 44, I think. Not jealous. Not frustrated that the Brit Valley at West Bay is a load of scrape-less fields and wasted potential. No, of course not.

On the other hand, I am beginning to wonder if the seawatching on offer at West Bay might turn out to be much better than I expected. Time will tell.

So much to learn.

In the meantime, better wrap up warm this week...

Admin

Just lately there's been a great deal of this...

Wet and wild. West Bay at 08:30 today.

So far, this kind of weather has produced an improbable January Leach's Petrel and a Little Gull. My PWC list is very happy, but the novelty has worn off now and I wouldn't mind a change. Across the window depicted above flew 6 Red-throated Divers, 3 Med Gulls, 13 Kittiwakes, c50 Gannets and a billion gallons of airborne water. Pretty soon it was time to go home and stay there. And do some admin...

In the end I plumped for eBird last year. At the click of a mouse you can request all your eBird records, which are then emailed as a spreadsheet. Already I have extracted a load of West Bex and Cogden records from it for Mike Morse, who compiles the annual report for his patch. I did likewise with Bridport recording area birds for Pete Forrest, again for a local report. This was easy, though I did remove several superfluous columns of data first. In practice the eBird app was very user-friendly. I would happily have carried on with it, but this year decided to give the updated BirdTrack app a fair trial. And already I prefer it, but that's for a future post maybe. Initially I was concerned that BirdTrack might not make my records available to me in spreadsheet format as per eBird, but actually it does. Perfect.

So, for once I haven't needed to compile my own spreadsheet. Fa-a-a-a-ntastic! Mind you, there have been a few past years where I haven't compiled a spreadsheet either. Not so fantastic; basically I have no records for those years. Oops.

On to rarity descriptions then...

I don't find BB rarities, but a busy year might see me jam a few local ones. In 2022, as far as I can recall, Dorset description species were just a noc-mig Pink-footed Goose, Barred Warbler and a few Leach's Petrels. Writing them up as minimally as I can get away with is a chore tailor-made for a wet day, and is now done.

BirdTrack has already prompted me to write a description for the January 3rd Leach's Petrel, and even provided an online form for the purpose. I couldn't resist such helpful spoon-feeding, and complied immediately. It has automatically forwarded my submission to the county recorder and emailed me a copy. Neat. I quite like having my hand held.

Another recent job on the agenda was the book review I mentioned a few posts back. A lot of fact-checking, many notes, and way too much sighing and groaning, but the task is now completed. And strewth, what a can of worms it was. I've never been asked to write a book review (and wonder now if such a request will ever come my way again!) so wanted to do it properly. If a book is good, I can imagine the reviewer's task is rather joyful; giving deserved praise is always a pleasure. All I can say right now is that the author is unlikely to be rushing to buy me a grateful pint. Hopefully the review will be published in due course without too much editorial emasculation. In which case I will post a link here. Or maybe the whole thing.

There is just one admin task outstanding now. I need to write a short personal bio describing my birding- and nature-type 'qualifications'. This is to be posted on a company website in connection with a lovely little guiding job I've kindly been invited to take on. Sorry to be cryptic again, but as soon as that's done and dusted I shall feel comfortable to say more.

In the meantime, tomorrow's forecast is dry. Which means...sigh...that I shall have to get out there and earn some money...

West Bay Kittiwake on Monday afternoon. The ghastly weather has at least produced a wonderful crop of these beauties.