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Sunday, 8 September 2024

Cogden Casp

Cogden was dull, dreary and dripping first thing, and its bushes a bit quiet. The light rain gradually eased to nothing as I headed slowly east along the coast path, and the relative lack of migrants prompted me to return along the beach for a change. I had already noted a decent flock of big gulls to check out, but knowing how jittery and unapproachable they normally are I didn't hold out much hope of extracting anything special. For once I was delightfully wrong.

After a few beach-based Wheatears and Whinchats, I was getting close to the gulls. They tend to flush at the slightest provocation, so I gingerly peered over the shingle ridge and had a scan of the closest birds. My disbelieving eyes nearly popped out of their sockets - almost the first bird I saw was one of the most instantly-obvious Caspian Gulls I have been fortunate enough to encounter...

1cy (first calendar-year) Caspian Gull in the foreground, with five Herring Gulls (4x 1cy plus a 2cy) behind. As this photo suggests, I was desperately trying to keep out of sight. Full 2000mm zoom and roughly 50% crop.

I could hardly have been more jammy. I had managed not to flush the gulls, and there was no one else on the beach yet. Perfect. I spent the next ten minutes on my knees, papping away. Which accounts for the following image glut...

A nice open-wing shot, showing tail pattern also.






It was a big bird, but not enormous.

This mid-preen shot nicely shows the many unmoulted juv scaps.

Alongside young Herring Gulls it was a case of chalk and cheese.


The final shot in the above sequence got me thinking...

To my eye the Casp stands out like a sore thumb, but I am well aware that to many birders it is just a gull among gulls, and visually unremarkable. Almost three years ago I was asked to write a gull ID article for the Dorset Bird Club magazine. I cannot recall exactly what the brief was, but I ended up focusing specifically on first-winter Caspian Gull. The piece was published in the August 2022 edition of Dorset Birds, and entitled How to Find Your Own Dorset Caspian Gull. At the time I had found just three Casps in Dorset, but including today's bird have since added two others. My aim was to encourage gull sceptics simply to look at big gulls with a view to picking out a first-winter Casp. Caspian Gull is genuinely scarce in Dorset - and I would not be surprised if the species is missing from the county lists of many Dorset birders - but first-winters are realistically do-able for anyone who wants to make the effort. And in my opinion that effort is likely - in time - to be rewarded.

Today's bird was not exactly what I would call a 'first-winter', but it was well on the way. Certainly it is the youngest Casp I have ever seen, with a lot of juvenile scapulars still, but the strikingly white head that first-winters display was coming along nicely. So, in the hopes of encouraging larophobes maybe to dip a toe into the dark, dark water, here are a couple of the above pics with [hopefully] helpful annotations...

Some of the 'catch your eye' type features.

Less 'catch your eye', more 'interesting detail'.

Of course, a key aspect of Casp ID is sorting out what age it is, but honestly, no Herring Gull ever looks like this bird!

Admittedly I do look at gulls when I get the chance, but my five West Dorset Casps in less-than-optimum locations over nine years suggests that there is plenty of potential for any would-be Casp finder.

Beyond the gull flock, a handful of what I initially assumed were Cormorants lurked at the water's edge. Well, three of them turned out to be juvenile Shags, a fairly scarce species here...

Nice comparison of juv Shag (left) with Cormorant.

Two of the three Shags.

Finally, some passerines...

Juv Whinchat at the back of the beach.

Fence post decoration.

...and the best moth of last night's meagre lot...

Olive-tree Pearl Palpita vitrealis. A migrant, and the garden's second, following one in 2022.

Friday, 6 September 2024

A Few Migrants

According to BirdTrack, the last time I visited Cogden was nearly six weeks ago, on July 29th. Pretty pathetic, but sounds about right. I noted just three birds. All fly-bys, all photographed...

Cogden goodies from July 29th: Marsh Harrier, Oystercatcher and Curlew.

Evidently there were no passerines worth mentioning, and as I managed almost zero birding through August it is no surprise that I made it to now without seeing even a Wheatear or Willow Warbler since the spring. Even by my standards that is bad. So, with work rained off, today was going to be the day to rectify such neglect.

It was dull and still at Cogden this morning, with a virtually flat-calm sea. Clearly there had been an overnight arrival, with lots of flitting and flicking and diving for cover along the coast path behind the beach. The final tally was 30 Chiffs, 10 Whitethroats, 8 Blackcaps, 4 Lesser Whitethroats, 3 Willow Warblers, an excellent total of 12 Whinchats, 6 Wheatears, a Spotted Flycatcher and a heard-only Ringed Plover. The obvious highlight was a Grasshopper Warbler which showed briefly and called loudly several times. I am pretty sure that's the first time I've heard a Gropper calling. It sounded like a Robin on steroids!

My first Wheatear-on-a-fence-post shot for a while.

Serious eyebrows. Juv Whinchat.


Spotted Flycatcher in the coast path vegetation.

Gorgeous juv Willow Warbler.

So, nothing dramatic, but a nice selection of regular migrants. My Wryneck radar was turned right up, to no avail of course. Still, it certainly felt quite birdy this morning, like something might happen any second, and that's a feeling I've not had for a long time. And very nice it was.

Early last year I wrote a post about the Great Fall of September 1965. Not quite 60 years ago, half a million migrants dropped on a 24-mile stretch of the Suffolk coast, making very special memories for a fortunate few. I think I am safe in saying that such a thing could never happen now, no matter how propitious the weather. There simply are not enough birds any more. Just recently I have seen a number of comments from long-time birders based in various locations, noting the lamentable dearth of migrants each year, and how it ain't getting any better. I take it the birds are no longer coming in the numbers of yore because they no longer exist in the numbers of yore. My outing this morning was enlivened by the overnight arrival of around 75 small birds, which is actually a soberingly small number to get excited about. That said, there were also hundreds of hirundines moving steadily through, but they don't count because they don't skulk in bushes, looking rare.

When the rain stopped this afternoon I ventured out again. Much, much quieter, but one really nice prize...

Juvenile Cirl Bunting


It is so good to know that Cirls have successfully bred locally once again. So it's not all doom and gloom.

Tuesday, 3 September 2024

Randomness

The second half of August was mostly viewed through a miserable haze of virus and self-pity, from the sofa. I am very bad at illness...

At last my sorry carcass has rallied somewhat, and last night I deployed the moth trap for the first time in weeks. Our granddaughters were booked in for the day, and they do like a moth. I had quite a few to show them...

A very lovely Frosted Orange is deservedly the centre of attention.

Earlier we had pottered around West Bay for a bit. Naturally I took the bins and camera...

An obvious 'Continental' Cormorant P. c. sinensis on the Brit Estuary.

Following a coffee/ice-cream interlude we headed for the seafront. A quick scan of the sea...

Hello, what's this? A large, dark bird was heading west, very low over the waves. It was several hundred metres distant - too far to ID with certainty - but its flight action hinted at Osprey. The camera might nail it. I rattled off a few shots at maximum 2000mm zoom. Lo and behold...

Well I never! A hefty crop, but still... Osprey heading W off West Bay around 11:30 today.

Eventually it gained a bit of height, but remained well offshore and just kept going.

A very serendipitous encounter, and my first local Osprey in nine years living here.

Last night's mothy highlights...

Listed as 'Nationally Rare', Portland Ribbon Wave is evidently not rare locally. This one is at least number 12 for the garden.

The garden's third Frosted Orange. A proper stunner.

Moth-wise I have struggled a bit with motivation this year. Too many dire traps have hardly inspired me. Even so, the occasional NFG (new for garden) has come my way. This is the most recent, about a month ago...

Poplar Maze-miner Phyllocnistis unipunctella

This tiny creature appears to be pretty scarce in Dorset, with just nine other records on the county's Living Record map. As with many micros, there is a similar species (Kent Maze-miner P. xenia) but I think the selection of shots above show enough to clinch it.

Around the same time, I caught this one...

Phyllonorycter sp.

A striking little micro, and new for the garden, but impossible to ID without dissection. Talking of which, it is possible (though unlikely) that you remember this one...

This is what I used to think was Willow Maze-miner Phyllocnistis saligna.

Multiple records of this 3.5mm speck used to be one of this garden's claims to fame. A Dorset hot-spot, no less. Except it almost certainly is not Willow Maze-miner. A paper published last year concluded that our confidently-identified Willow Maze-miners were actually one or more of FOUR visually identical species. DNA barcoding is responsible for this scenario. Even gen. det. cannot reliably sort them out. Bare minimum, you need a laboratory. Ideally, a Genetic Temple and ordained Taxonomist.

Future Phyllocnistis whatevers will be unceremoniously flicked into touch.

Monday, 19 August 2024

Low-Key

A low-key month so far, and results to match. With fairly regular sightings of Cory's Shearwater from Portland Bill, the sea has been pretty much the only source of inspiration, but we haven't yet had a blow decent enough to offer much hope of a Cory's from West Bay. Still, you've got to try, so today's half-hearted puff of SSW got me down there for an hour and a bit this evening...

One Balearic Shearwater, 111 Manx, 42 Kitts (all juvs, which is good news) and 2 Whimbrel. Lots of gulls feeding offshore - including many Meds - and a small pod of Common Dolphins through. Very entertaining.

My last seawatch was ten days ago, an early morning effort that produced 4 Balearics, 1 Manx, 6 Common Scoter, and an involuntary Gannet count. Punctuating the 150 Gannets was a most incongruous sight for early August...

Great Northern Diver. Serious feet.

To be honest I haven't been out much otherwise, and am yet to see Wheatear, Willow Warbler, or indeed just about any passerine migrant whatsoever. Perhaps I've missed all the birdy days and picked duffers.

It's been ages since my last decent gull, so a juv Yellow-legged at Cogden a couple of days back was welcome...

It's the lone bird more-or-less in the middle. Not exactly the proverbial sore thumb.

Juv Yellow-legged Gull.

There were shoals of whitebait very close to the shore, and a mobile, scrambling pile of gulls in attendance. Unfortunately it was impossible to get close to the flock, and folk walking the beach kept flushing them all. Still, hundreds of frustrating gulls was a lot more fun than empty bushes.

View east from Cogden Beach. The first tented village is a mile away at West Bexington, then another two miles to the Abbotsbury Beach colony. The fat end of Portland is about 13 miles distant, via the mother of all shingly slogs.

Guiding the Seaton Birdwatching Tram has been a highlight of the last ten days. I've done two evening trips, both with perfect weather and plenty of birds...

Two Common Sands on the estuary mud.

Chattering Blackwits on Black Hole Marsh

Estuary Curlew, beautifully lit by the evening sunshine.

Last Friday's prize bird, a juv Osprey virtually at eye level.


What a bird! It was happy punters all round. And happy guide, happy driver. All of us were very, very happy.

Two juv Greenshanks. Initially picked up on call, flying up the estuary, they landed and then scuttled along together, feeding non-stop. I like to think they had just arrived.

Finally, a visit to good friends Paul and Janet in NW Suffolk produced a few bits and bobs I don't see often...

Bleak. Haven't seen this species for many years.

It was quite a surprise to discover (or rather, be shown) how many Stone-curlews live in the Brecks. Lots!

RSPB Lakenheath. Saw Great White Egrets and a Bittern here...

...and two very distant Garganey, expertly picked out by the man with the scope, i.e. not me.

Rubbish heat-hazy pic, but dust-bathing Woodlarks are not ten-a-penny in deepest West Dorset. There were at least five in total. Cavenham Heath.

Least Carpet. A moth tick for me. Yes, I took the Moth Slate to Suffolk.

Another new one - Gypsy Moth. Former scarce migrant, but has colonised much of the South and East apparently. Certainly not a big deal in Suffolk. Presumably it will be here soon.

So there we are, more or less up to date. Except for moths...