Red Letter Day

For the last couple days the winds has been coming in from the East, sending birders scurrying to the coast in search of rare and vagrant birds brought over from the continent. Red-flanked blue tail, yellow-browed warblers, Isabelline shrike and Pallas’ warbler all turning up at coastal sites around Norfolk and Suffolk. To me, yes these are exciting birds, some of which I would love to see. But my priorities have changed. And it is not all down to the little Robyn bird that has become the centre of my world over the last 12 weeks. Even before she arrived, once I had become a bird ringer my priorities and focus shifted from birding to bird ringing. The easterly winds may have brought some unusual birds but it also heralded the return of our common winter migrants. Across the dark velvety sky in the early hours of Wednesday morning, with stars still twinkling and only the smallest hint of lightening of the sky signally the coming dawn, came the distinct but thin, almost wistful ‘seep’ call of one of our commonest winter migrants, but also one of the most beautiful. 

In the gathering light, with the reeds and trees at Cranwich rustling quietly in the breeze, we set a series of mist nets. Through the dark comes the deep rumbling roar of Red Deer, hidden by darkness and trees but sending tremors through the early dawn. As the morning draws on the sky is soon filled with hundreds of small, dark thrushes, with that distinct ‘seep’ call. They are Redwing. Circling through the sky now filled with hurrying clouds, moving in flocks from one tree to another and soon dropping down to where our nets stretched through open corridors between the pools, reeds and trees. 

The beautiful Redwing

Up close they are beautiful birds. A bold, creamy stripe above the eye, cuts through the olivey brown feathers of the head. A slightly less pronounced stripe runs underneath the eye. The glossy brown continues down the back and tail, while underneath the pale chest is streaked with dark brown spots. Under the wing is a deep, chestnut-red splash of colour that spills onto the flank and from which the bird gets its name. 

For each bird we look to age it by assessing the quality of the feathers, looking for any changes in colour, any pale fringing and the amount of wear. From this we can tell whether the bird hatched this year, or either the year before or at some point before. Due to the way adult passerines moult after each breeding cycle we have no way of knowing exactly how old the bird is from feathers alone. Only ringing details can do that. Once aged, we measure its wing, record how much fat it has, the condition of its breast muscle, and weigh it. It is then released to join the rest of the flock still hanging round the willows and alders of Cranwich. 

It is a tremendous day, with so many Redwings moving through we inevitably managed to catch a few…. Well 66 to be exact! But that was not all for the day, Goldcrest, Treecreeper, Robin, Chaffinch, Chiff chaff, Wren, Greenfinch, Reed Bunting Long-tailed Tit, Cetti’s Warbler, Kingfisher, Siskin, Lesser Redpoll, Song Thrush, Marsh Tit, Great Tit, Blue Tit and even a Willow Tit (a species that until this year we have not caught on the site since 2009!) added to a the grand total of 195 birds caught and processed on this Red Letter Day for ringing at Cranwich. 

Willow tit 

Cetti's Warbler

Bearded Beauties

Head to many of the larger reed bed sites in Norfolk and Suffolk and you have a good chance of encountering these little birds. In many cases you may not even see them. From the tall, waving reeds their nasal ‘ping’ bounces around like a pinball machine. If you do see one, it is often a small, seemingly brown ball of feathers, trailing a long tail zipping across the tops of the reeds. If you are lucky enough to catch site of one stationary you are confronted with a small, beautifully marked and delightful little reedling that is at home gripping on to a vertical reed stem. The brown is revealed as a tawny, orangey brown and there are stripes of creamy white and black on the wings, a long rufous brown tail trailing behind the stocky little body. The males have a silvery blue grey head, small bright yellow bill, brilliant orange eye and stunning black moustaches... so I guess Moustached Tit did not have quite the same ring as Bearded Tit. The females, while lacking the silvery grey head and moustache, are still just as delightful but in a more subtle way. 

So yes, while throughout the year you may be lucky enough to hear or even see these little, restless birds in the larger reed beds of the region. But at our comparatively little reed bed at Cranwich? Well as a matter of fact yes! In the past few years the characteristic pinging of a pair of Bearded Tit has been heard in the reeds fringing the margins of our pools. Clearly while many Bearded Tits remain in their large reed beds year round, some disperse during the winter. The calls at Cranwich have only been heard in the autumn and spring, there is no sign of them breeding… yet.

So with the final session of the season underway it is with some excitement that through the still, cool autumnal early morning we hear that pinball ping. With the sun beginning to warm the cool air it was with delighted surprise that from the bird bag I took out a stunning, male Bearded Tit. The first time I had held this gorgeous bird in my hand. The next net round brought the added pleasure of catching a female. 

A stunning male Bearded Tit

No less beautiful, the female Bearded Tit

So here we are, on our little reed bed site with a pristine pair of Bearded Tits. Both adult and young of the year replace all their feathers at the end of summer, so there is no way of telling whether these were young dispersing or adults moving away from the breeding sites. Where did they come from? In all likelihood to answer is nearby Lakenheath but may be somewhere further afield? But where do they go to? Remain at Cranwich for the winter or carry on to some other destination? And where will they return to breed? One day could the answer to that be Cranwich? Ringing this pair will hopefully help to start providing some answers…

Snakes in the grass

Along the grassy margins of the pools, nestled amongst the tall grass, reeds, alders and willows at the waters edge, and near to the open spaces of short grass and sandy soil at Cranwich there are a number of dark, corrugated sheets. The warm sunshine of a sunny September beats down on the black material, warming the soil beneath. It had been a cool night and the surrounding grass, reeds and leaves were damp, water droplets glistening in the bright sunlight. It was with great care that we approached these corrugated sheets, gently lifting them to discover the secrets hidden in the warm, darkness. As the light flushes the area, a quick movement catches the eye, and it requires even quicker reactions to catch it’s source. Lifting the beautiful animal into the light the sun glistens off dark, brownish grey scales that when catching the light look almost bronze. Its belly is pale yellow. Down its side and especially underneath there are jet black scales forming a pattern that is distinctive to each individual. The head has a bright yellow and black collar, and a gleaming eye with round pupil. From the mouth a dark, forked tongue darts in and out tasting the air. It is a beautiful Grass Snake. It coils around the hand holding it, supple and sleek, there is nothing slimy about it, it is all muscle. The tongue continually tasting the surrounding air. 

A beautiful Grass Snake

Checking more refugia reveals more snakes, each a Grass Snake but each distinctively different. A different arrangement to the pattern of black scales, a different variation to the colour of the brown scales. One is much darker, another an almost olive brown colour. The largest is just over a metre in length, the smallest reaches from tip of finger to elbow, and is as thin as a pencil.

Checking more refugia

The habitat here is perfect for them, plenty of long grass close to water, providing a ready supply of amphibians, the snakes preferred prey. 

The series of refugia have been purposely placed around the site since the spring when the snakes would have come out of hibernation and sought out food and a mate. Throughout the summer a student has been monitoring the snakes catching, measuring and photographing them. Like with the bird population we want to know how many snakes are using the site, and like with birds we use the technique of ‘mark recapture’ to do this. However unlike with birds where we add a small metal ring with a unique number inscribed, with snakes it is simply a case of taking its picture. The unique pattern to the black markings on the belly of each snake will be more than enough to identify individuals, much like a human finger print.

Stunning markings on a Grass Snake

As the summer has waned into autumn, even with its final warm flourish, the number of snakes being found has begun to drop, as many start seeking out places to hibernate, a safe haven for the cold winter months ahead. For now with the warm autumnal sun beating down, it is time to release the snakes back into the long grass or the nearby water, ready to continue hunting before they too head for hibernation. 

The Isle of Wight Ringing Course

Haseley Manor, in Arreton on the Isle of Wight was built on the site of a Saxon Manor house which existed at the time of the Domesday Book. In its long history it has been owned by four kings, used as a Monastic Grange, accommodation for farm workers and even as a museum. Now it is a privately owned home, filled with many original features from its varied past. Today the land surrounding the house has also been transformed, from agricultural fields into a haven of pools, trees and shrubs. Walking through the reserve, watching birds flit from tree to tree, swallows swoop overhead and hawker dragonflies zip past, transparent wings glinting in the sunlight, or treading the wooden floor boards of the manor house, drinking in the history the walls, beams, fireplaces and ornaments have to offer, I wonder what the previous owners of Haseley Manor would make of the group of 20 people stringing up fine mesh nets to catch birds, only to attach a small ring and let them go!

What would King Harold make of it, or William the Conqueror? Or Henry the Eighth? What would the community living in the abbey think? How times have changed. How the use of the manor has changed with the times. Today not only is the Manor a home and a wedding venue, it is also a place for the scientific study of birds. 

Along the maze of grassy paths throughout the grounds, mist nets have been strategically placed in order to catch the birds that breed amongst the trees, bushes and along the waters edges, but also to catch the birds moving through heading south for the winter.

The setup at the Manor also lends itself to teaching. Over the years the Isle of Wight Ringing Group has grown, and since 2007 so has the Ringing Course, run by the group and providing ringers from all over the UK and beyond to gain more experience and to go for assessments for permits. 

Back in 2007 I gained some of my very first ringing experience on the course, getting a taste that would inspire me to continue and start my training process. In 2010 I returned the island and the course and was recommended for my C permit. Now in 2015 I have returned once more as an A permit holder and a mum!

Over the four days ringing on the course the team processed over a thousand birds, but the set up allowed plenty of time and opportunity for training, exchange of knowledge and assessment. The variety of birds provided opportunity to take a look at resident and migrant birds. While birds like Redstart, Tree Pipit, Spotted Flycatcher, Lesser Whitethroat and Firecrest may have been the highlights, the opportunity to look at plenty of Chiff Chaff, Blackcap and Robins gave the chance to get your eye in to seeing subtle old greater covets and to practice assessing fat scores. 

A stunning male Redstart

The Saturday evening found the entire team basking in a glowing sunset, warm orange light from a dipping sun filtering through the trees. Overhead in a sky fading from deep blue to pale orange thousands of small, pointed wing and tailed hirundines swoop overhead. As dusk approached and the temperature cooled, fleeces replaced sunglasses, and the number of swallows in particular built up so that it seemed a swarm of them swirled over the trees and pools. One, two, three then many more began dipping down to the water’s surface, with an occasional splash a bird would touch the surface either taking a drink or attempting to knock parasites from their feathers. Each splash sent up a tiny fountain of water droplets, twinkling like little gems in the sunlight. Then with the last rays of sunlight and the shadows deepening, they began to plough into the trees and bushes to roost. And there a small proportion of them headed into the mist nets. Once darkness had fully taken hold, in the light of ringing hut 280 odd Swallows and a handful of Sand Martins were ringed, processed and returned to the quiet of roosting bags where they safely spent the night.

Sunset over the Manor

The following morning, and through a deep mist obscuring the landscape of the Manor, the birds were released from their bags, ready to return to their epic journey south. An excellent ending to an excellent course.  

One of the many young Swallows

Thank you to the Anthony and Vivian Roberts for their hospitality and to the Isle of Wight Ringing Group for an excellent course. 

A Delightful Demo

The last bank holiday of the summer and it seems in keeping with the summer in general it was grey and overcast. The rain however seemed to be holding off and while it was grey it was warm enough for t-shirts and there was little wind. Perfect conditions in fact for ringing. As part of the local RSPB and NWT Wild about Brecks event the BTO was running a ringing demo in the grounds of the Nunnery. Nets hidden amongst the tall trees of the woodland surrounding the grounds we brought birds back to a little gazebo stationed outside the main building that had been converted into the BTO HQ. Around us through the grounds are gazebos and stalls of other conservation charities and partnerships promoting wildlife and sustainability in the Breckland area. In the long grass of the meadow kids ran swishing little nets in front of them gathering bugs and insects to be identified and in a secret corner pond dipping was revealing aquatic wildlife. 

The ringing demo all ready to go

Throughout the day a steady stream of birds were brought to our ringing station, where the usual process of ringing, aging, sexing and measuring was completed for each. The main difference between this and a normal ringing session being that there was generally a small crowd of people, especially kids, gathered around us watching, listening and asking questions. It was a perfect opportunity to show them birds up close, many of whom had never seen a bird this close before. It was also a chance to explain the process and benefits of ringing. From young blue tits to young goldfinch, with a few robins, blackcaps, treecreepers and wrens, and added interest of blackbird, marsh, coal tit and cliff chaff, there were plenty of birds to keep us busy and the crowds entertained. 

Treecreeper

One of the many blue tits

In total 162 birds were processed with the rain only arriving once the last bird had been taken for the nets. One particular little Robyn took it all in her rather sleepy stride. 

Me and my little Robyn

A trip to Titchwell

The sun blazed in a wide open sky, the blue stretching above the open landscape of marshes, pools and reeds of Titchwell on the north Norfolk coast. A stiff breeze ruffled the sea creating white caps and powering the wind turbines just offshore in endless cycles. The long stretch of sandy beach, exposed by the low tide had rivulets of water running through the little sand waves created by the receding water. The shells of razorfish littered the strand line, crunching under foot. Working back inland the marshes stretch as far as the eye can see beyond the sandy dunes. To the left of a gravel path large lagoons with shimmering wavelets host a multitude of birds. From the beach the lagoons become more freshwater, so that the first, nearest the beach, is almost empty in the low tide with just the odd pools of water and tufty, hardy plants. The third pool is totally freshwater and full of water, so that at this point most of the birds are concentrated here. Beyond it are large beds of reeds.

The freshwater lagoon

Owned by the RSPB the reserve has some fabulous, well maintained hides that present perfect opportunities to watch the goings on in the pools without disturbing the birds. The newer Parrinder Hide is a modern building with wide, open windows overlooking both the freshwater and brackish lagoons. For me I prefer the more traditional wooden hide, although this is still very open and light compared to many I have been in. Still, I love the smell of wood, the slight mustiness, the scratch of wooden benches on wooden floor, lifting the catches and hoisting open the windows to reveal the landscape beyond.

The freshwater lagoon has a maze of little islands and peninsulas of land covered in grass, its edges has thick lush green grasses and tall dense reeds. Everywhere there are birds. Common and sandwich terns roost on the islands; standing in the shallow water, heads tucked under wings are black-tailed godwits, around the edges even more godwits, avocets, dunlin and ruff are feeding, each with a different characteristic action, each as busy as the next fuelling up. 

A ruff feeding in the margins of the lagoon

Numerous teal also feed in the shallow water, their bills submerged as they filter food from the water. It is a cracking time of year to be watching ducks and waders. For the ducks, most are still in eclipse plumage. All appear brown and drab, the males having lost their bright plumage while they moult their flight feathers and are therefore more vulnerable to predation. For the waders there is a total mix, with many individuals still in their fabulous breeding plumage; the deep russet red, with almost tiger stripe barring on the flanks of black-tailed godwit; the deep black on the face, neck and breast contrasting with the golden yellow on the back of the golden plover; the black belly of little dunlin. Others are already into the greyer, more muted plumage of winter, and many more are in various stages between the two. Amongst these returning migrant waders is a species that has been one of the UK’s conservation success stories: the avocet. After the return of breeding pairs following an absence of 100 years in the 1940s, the creation of suitable habitat and protection has led to a substantial recovery. Now the sight of these distinctive black and white, long legged, birds sweeping their curved bill back and forth is thankfully much more common in many areas of our eastern coast. 

And to top off the day… a superb wood sandpiper spotted emerging from the vegetation in a secretive corner of the pool.

The distinctive avocet

A baby goldfinch and a baby Robyn

Into my 38th week of pregnancy and I was off work, resting, reading, cleaning; all those things you do in the last few weeks before all hell breaks loose. Each evening I would waddle the dog (I would waddle she would walk/run/swim) to meet Lee at work. On Monday I was heading that way following a rather cryptic text message, something about a baby goldfinch….

Arriving at BTO headquarters and I was greeted by Lee and a small plastic tub in which was said baby goldfinch. No more than 7 or 8 days old, feathers not fully grown and certainly not old enough to be out of the nest. The little chap and a sibling had been brought to the BTO by a concerned member of the public having found them on the ground. While a bird conservation charity the BTO is not a rescue charity. That said Lee is not the type to turn any animal away. While one of the little chicks was too ill, and died very shortly after, the other was healthier although hungry. Lee had contacted the local animal sanctuary who said they could if needed come and collect the little one either that evening or tomorrow. It would be a week or so before it would be ready to fledge, and in that moment, in my head I was thinking I still have a couple weeks before my own baby bird was due, I said ‘why don’t we take care of it!’ 

So we took him home (I say he but there is no way of knowing at this stage whether it is male or female) . We rang the animal sanctuary back and told them we would take care of the bird and for the next week we kept him in a small cage usually used to capture birds for ringing, and we fed him mushed up seeds, and some may say against better judgement we named him Carrot (as in 24 carat gold but it evolved into Carrot). By the end of the week he was hopping around the cage, twittering like crazy between periods of rest where he would bundle up and tuck his head under a wing. He would soon be ready, but we needed to make sure he could feed himself. 

Carrot the goldfinch

It turns out my own little bird was rather impatient, and not willing to wait till her due date, or at one point to even wait to get to the hospital! That weekend Robyn Evelyn came into our world bottom first. 

Even with the craziness that follows the birth of a baby, we kept an eye on Carrot. He was starting to feed by himself and would soon be ready to leave our nest. One evening and Carrot just like Robyn was impatient to get going; slipping between the small gap at the entrance to the cage and heading off into the big wide world without a backwards glance or stopping to say goodbye to his surrogate family. As they say that’s life, but that was not the end of the story. The next day and a little goldfinch appeared on our bird table. Carrot was back. He looked OK, a little hungry by the seems and ready for bed. He did not fly off when we approached and so we decided to bring him indoors for the night, just in case. A day later and he was again eagerly eating seed and once again ready for the off. Once again he beat us to it; nipping out of the cage and through an open window. This time when he did return to the garden he looked brighter and flew off when approached. Carrot had fledged and over the next couple of days we no longer saw him in the garden. As our own little Robyn bird starts out we can now only hope that Carrot has joined up with more of his kind and stays safe. 

Robyn Evelyn the newest addition to the Wild Barley family