More Signs Of Spring

A few timely and heartening signs of spring proper in recent days - Chiffchaff (top two), Willow Warbler (three and four), male Blackcap and a local Common Buzzard enjoying the sun (and peace).

Birding For The Clampdown - 15th April 2020

Two tiny dots....

 
Another day in partial lockdown, and another stroll to Muston Sands, my favourite viewpoint here in Filey, just ten minutes from the front door. Another day with great results, too - after plenty over the Easter weekend (see last post), conditions again looked promising for broad-winged action, and happily, so it was.

... which are actually two huge beasts

 
Apart from the ubiquitous Common Buzzards (particularly visible today, in all directions, including over the town and the bay) it wasn't looking good, until two distant but wonderfully familiar shapes appeared together, circling to the north-west in the heat-haze.

 
Two (more) Common Cranes - that'll do nicely. Not the closest of encounters, but who cares - I've had plenty of crippling views here, including from the very same spot - and another great sighting from a very productive spring for flyovers. (postscript - they're entertaining various birders in the Scarborough area a little further north as write).

Common Buzzards - very much living up to their name these days

Birding for The Clampdown - Easter 2020

One of two Marsh Harriers in off the North Sea

 
A few shots from the Easter weekend, with lots of movement at Muston Sands - including big counts and many hundreds of Linnets and Goldfinches, a nice steady trickle of hirundines, Yellow Wagtails into double figures, the three Great Northern Divers in the bay alongside a wonderful show from 12 Bottlenose Dolphins, plenty of raptor activity headlined by two Marsh Harriers and a Red Kite, and a fine showing of White Wagtails - four together on the golf course was the most I've ever seen in one group here.

Red Kite heading south

 

One of five White Wagtails (four together plus a fifth south) on Sunday

 

One of 12 Bottlenose Dolphins playing in the bay

 

A high, coasting Great Spotted Woodpecker

 

Two of many hundreds of Linnets on the move

 

Sand Martin - all three hirundines a regular occurence in recent days

 

Skylark - still small numbers moving

 

Chaffinch

 

Euro Golden Plover heading inland 

 

Migrating Dunnock

Vismig, er, Platinum - 6th April 2020

Red-rumped Swallow, expertly captured as it passed the Gap by Keith (cheers for the photo KC!)

 
So despite everything, you may have noticed it's being going very well re: my local lockdown birding here in Filey, with visible migration being especially kind so far this spring. In the last couple of weeks, I've had Woodlark, Hooded Crow, Marsh Harriers, Red Kites, White Wagtails and lots of other quality flyovers, culminating in the fine prize of a Crane a couple of days ago - hence the 'Vismig Gold' part of my last post's title ....

Yellow Wagtail - first of the year

 
48 hours later and I'm a willing victim of my own hyperbole, with this morning providing quality in the shape of Yellow Wagtails (first of the year), a single Crossbill among a good push of finches, and the first mini-surge of hirundines - House Martins, Sand Martins and Barn Swallows all suddenly into double figures, providing a perfect supporting cast to nothing less than a Red-rumped Swallow...

House Martin

 
Despite putting in more hours vismigging (and general local birding) than I care to remember, it's a species that - although very much on the radar at certain times of year especially - has managed to body-swerve me on several occasions; I can think of at least two occasions when they've almost certainly flown right past me, fate pointing me in the wrong direction. But they're a tricky bird to get locally, with only a handful of modern records and, of course, a habit of bulleting by, never to be seen again.

Oystercatchers (note very different bill shapes)

 
Not this time. After word came through of one heading south via the Scarborough Birders Whatsapp, I altered position slightly to broaden my panorama to the north, and waited.... 17 minutes later and a loose group of hirundines approached, well spread and at full speed: manic checks of each, with barely seconds to do so, revealed a Sand Martin, a Sand Martin, a Swallow, a House Martin, a Sand Martin, a Sand Martin and BOOM! Just as it threatened to sneak by unappreciated, I clocked it against the low-tide sands of the beach as it hurtled south.

Immediately calling Keith, in position as ever just over 2km to the south at Hunmanby Gap, I garbled out a message, hung up and hoped, and for once it came good - barely a minute later and not only did it appear, it even made it into his DSLR viewfinder for long enough for an excellent action shot....

The first Marsh Harrier to make the house list!

 
Just to make a good day even better, as I sat at the dining table soon after returning, the gulls kicked off outside - and after grabbing the camera and looking out of the (ground floor, dirty, double-glazed) window), by sheer luck, I had two seconds of full-fat house tick mega Marsh Harrier disappearing behind the chimney stacks... my second large raptor for the Lockdown list, after the far more expected Common Buzzard, and a long hoped-for addition to the window list.

So, it's been a really productive spring so far under the circumstances. Let's hope those circumstances remain practical enough for the enjoyment of local daily wanderings and the birds I'm fortunate to enjoy on them; either way, I'm making the most of it.

Birding for The Clampdown - Vismig Gold

A speck of dust on the 'scope / your device's screen?

 
Lucky, I know - lucky to be able to time my daily outdoor venture for what would hopefully be the optimal period for broad-winged activity (late morning) yesterday, and lucky that my favoured viewpoint is all of 12 minutes from the front door, and about as isolated and ideal as you can imagine.

Nope - it's a huge, beautiful Common Crane! (same photo, cropped)

 
So it was yesterday morning, with the sunny intervals, mostly patchy cloud and a southerly airflow - at the right time of year for bigger wanderers on the move. Realistic targets (outside of the ubiquitous Common Buzzards, Kestrels, Sparrowhawks and Peregrines) in early to mid-April in favourable conditions include Red Kite (I've had a few this spring) and Marsh Harrier (a regular scarce migrant), perhaps an Osprey with luck (a handful a year, often in spring), or something rarer still....

Here's one I made (found) earlier - a few springs ago in the same place

 
... like a Common Crane, for example - less than annual locally but a species I've been fortunate to find multiple times during skywatches in the Filey area in recent years. After warming up with my first Marsh Harrier of the year, wheeling ever higher as it coasted north (which would've done more than fine as the day's highlight), I scanned the skies to the north, and picked up a distant blob, travelling high and north-west, with a constant flight path and what appeared to be slow, broad wings....

My first migrating Marsh Harrier of the spring heading north 

 
I moved to the Harpia, picked it up in the haze as it gained height, and bingo - a Crane, lolloping majestically up the coast. Now, more than ever, what an absolute joy to behold.... I put the news out via local whatsapps (it only takes a few seconds to type species, location, time and direction - technology is amazing, eh...!) and happily it was tracked as it coasted up beyond Scarborough - always a pleasure when news gets out fast and everybody has a chance of enjoying it.

Reed Bunting

 
Passerines were still on the move, too, with Meadow Pipits and Chaffinches making up the majority, and bonus balls including Corn bunting and Brambling. Another good day - here's hoping there are more to come this spring.

New Adventures In Lo-Fi

Common Scoters on the move off the Brigg - but that's by day....

 
Thirteen days into what will no doubt be a lengthy (partial) lockdown and it's all about making the most of wildlife under the restrictions - by appreciating existing pleasures fully and also finding new ways to explore aspects of birding and nature that were previously untapped. Of the latter, especially now we're into the spring proper, there's the nocturnal migration of birds, or Nocmig.

A Common Scoter in the bay - not skirting chimney pots on Rutland Street

 
But how? Put simply, by recording the noises they make as they pass overhead: point recorder skywards, press record, download and analyse afterwards, identify species and numbers. Of course it's a bit more complicated than that (especially the identifying part), but that's essentially it, and anyone can do it; and as you might expect, many more people are, with so much more time on their hands and limitations as they are. If we can't go to them, then let them come to us.

The study, including a window not only to my limited sliver of housebound vismig, but also with a suitably gripping gap in the top section...

 
I've been meaning to get into Nocmig for an age, but a lack of a practical venue for a recorder - we have no garden, are surrounded by multi-storeys of bricks and mortar on all sides, and have a very limited sliver of sky available to us - was enough to dissuade me thus far. But through a combination of reasons, I've finally taken the dive (or rather, dipped my toe in) - not least because, as mentioned above, just like everyone else, I'm hoping to make the best of the situation and find new ways make the most of our limitations.

...where the recorder....

 
The final straw came on the evening of 31st March (a few nights ago) when, while brushing my teeth, I heard a low, loud flock of Common Scoters migrating over the house at around 2300hrs - magical! - and with reports of a big nocturnal overland movement of these wonderful seaducks underway, it got me thinking as to how I might yet fashion a Nocmigging opportunity from these humble surrounds..... the answer - well, a short-term stop-gap answer at least, was this: dust off old Olympus hand-held sound recorder, cocoon it in bubble wrap, jam it in the opening at the top of the partially-opened study window on the first floor, press record, and hope for the best.

.... points out into the alley and into the night...

 
That was several nights ago now, and despite the vaguely comedy DIY method, it works - in fact, it's kind of thrilling already. Of two nights I've gone through, both have featured multiple flocks of scoters, including some so low you can hear there wing-beats as clear as day - as well as multiple migrating Redwings, Song Thrush, Fieldfare, and several mystery calls (there'll be a lot of the latter, trust me....).

.... and is already producing exciting results, including this spectogram of a flock of very low Common Scoters

 
I'm looking at ways to make the recording process more successful and effective - at least within the limitations of sticking a mic out of my study window in the back alley - but it's a start, and hopefully there'll be plenty more eulogising about this new little adventure to come soon.

The Dark Art Of Vismigging, part one - Incoming!

The first in a two-part series I wrote recently for Zeiss Birding about my experiences studying visible migration, this article looks at the phenomenon of the multitudes of migrants that arrive from over the North Sea from mainland Europe, Scandinavia and Russia every year - and the thrill of watching it happen. Click the link below and enjoy!

The Dark Art Of Vismigging, part one - Incoming!

COTF Celebration Day 2020 - In Pictures

Get Shorty

 
Yesterday was kind of surreal, but ultimately incredibly joyful and inspiring. It was our Champions of the Flyway Celebration Day - an opportunity to come together (virtually), make the most of limitations, celebrate birds and our community, and raise more awareness and funds for the cause (see here for more). For me, this meant co-ordinating our (increasingly, magically) overloaded social media feeds and boosting the signal in whatever ways possible - which meant almost constant screen time and sore eyes and aching thumbs. But it also meant participation.

Roe Deer lack any concept of social distancing

 
How? Well, being very fortunate to have a local circuit of mixed habitats close to home (and inkeeping with the guidelines of exercising 'a normal amount'), I decided my solidarity birding would incorporate an often-trodden circuit strictly within two kilometres of my front door - a self-imposed restriction that would also make it more interesting.

Frolicking dolphins a few minutes from the front door? Don't mind if I do

 
I had a look at what might be a realistic species tally, and it seemed 50 was an achievable target; this despite the limitations not only of geography and habitats but also the lack of long-distance migrants, which are tantalisingly close and due to start arriving over the coming weeks... but on the plus side, the conditions (while chilly) were due to be pleasantly benign. And happily, they were, which made for near-ideal circumstances.

Gravity-defying, super-heroic Purple Sandpiper - the only one on the Brigg

 
Long story short, for a nippy day on the North Yorkshire coast at the end of March, it could hardly have gone better. It was a joy just to be out, enjoying birds - a pleasure I honestly don't take for granted anymore in the slightest - and the lack of human disturbance, physically and audibly, made for an unprecendently peaceful session. But the lack of people (the few I saw sensibly keeping more than the advised distance) also cast a melancholic air to places that would otherwise have been bustling; the beach, in particular, was almost empty.

A female Northern Wheatear, fresh from Africa, against the backdrop of a deserted Coble Landing. I can't tell you how happy this bird made me....

 
So, what about the birds? Well, the strike rate for species I deemed 'likely' was excellent, in fact pretty much 100%. Notable omissions were Bullfinch and Treecreeper, but the number of 'maybe's' - i.e., species I was in with a shout of, but that were far from bolt-on - way outweighed any minor losses, and included both Short-eared and Barn Owls (a non-owl day would not have been at all surprising), all the target raptors (with Peregrine and Common Buzzard doing the honours alongiside Sparrowhawks and Kestrels), tricky, rare farmland species including Grey Partridge and Yellowhammer, and bonus wildfowl in the shape of single Red-breasted Merganser and Brent Goose (more on the latter soon)....

... and she came much closer....

 
... and bird of the day for me - two Northern Wheatears which arrived, fresh-in from the North Sea, on a near-deserted Brigg just as I'd turned around to head home. They're my first of the year, and (but for a Sand Martin last week) are my first trans-Saharan migrants of the spring - I can honestly say I've never been so happy to see them in my life, and that's really saying something.

.... and was then joined by a bandit-masked male. Joy. 

 
On top of all that, I bumped into 12 Bottlenose Dolphins playing off the Brigg end, saw my first Common Pipistrelle bat of the year at dusk by the kitchen window, and added species #78 while brushing my teeth and preparing the hit the sack - a flock of vocal Common Scoters echoing in through the open bathrooom window. It's safe to say I'd never have heard them with the background noise of 'normal' circumstances; more small mercies to be grateful for.

The final tally of 78 - way more than anticipated

 
So, a memorable day of conflicting but ultimately uplifting emotions, and one I enjoyed every minute of. Am I grateful for what I have? Just a bit.