The Colours of the Rainbow

‘Red, and yellow, and pink and green, purple and orange and blue. I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too’.

Well following this weekend I can sing a ringing rainbow, sing a ringing rainbow too!

Red

First we returned to the farmland where last week it was white, crisp and cold. Today it was milder, a little soggy underfoot but a keen breeze meant I was glad for the four jumpers, leggings and bobble hat that had created a personal sauna in the car! Although there were not as many birds around as the previous week, there were still large flocks of finches and various buntings humming in the hedgerow and thorny bushes. 

And so the first birds of this weekend’s ringing rainbow were lesser redpolls. With that red splodge on the head, and with the males sporting bright red across the chest, cheek and rump. 

Stunning male lesser redpoll

Yellow

The yellowhammer, one of the quintessential farmland birds in my mind. Their distinctive song, calling out for bread but no cheese, rings out from hedgerows and trees across farms during the summer. But here in Thetford Forest they also make the most of the various aged stands of pine trees, nesting in the stump rows and in the grass at the bottom of small trees. In winter they are concentrated together on the surrounding farmland, searching out seed from all important stubble fields, and at this site making the most of the millet scattered along the base of the hedgerow and in the feeders that hang from it. 

And what a bird. Yellow, yellow, yellow! Brilliant and bright. 

Equally stunning yellowhammer

Pink

OK, so over this weekend pink birds were few and far between :) but fear not as we return to those lovely redpolls! While the head most of the time is bright even in young birds red (but not always as we’ll find out later!), the colour on the breast in males takes its time to come through, to the extent that young birds that hatched last year and have no red on the body should not be sexed, as they could be females. Some young males do however start to show some red on the cheek, chest or rump. This red though is often faint, just one or two feathers and in some cases looks almost pink……

Green

Here I could go down the greenfinch route, and yes we did catch a couple at the farmland site. But it was the visit to a friend’s garden near Diss on the Sunday that produced the real green star of this weekend. Their garden lies surrounded by horse paddocks, with some tall trees creating dark woodlands patched amongst the rolling pasture. Setting up and it was the call of this bird immediately in the tall trees behind the house that caught our attention. A harsh, loud, laughing and distinctive ‘yabba yabba yabba’. So many times through the year do I hear this call, see a bird flying away in an undulating motion, or hopping amongst the grass searching for ants. The bird is the green woodpecker. Only once have I seen one in the hand and only once has Lee caught one before. A large, stocky bird, more accustomed to wider open spaces where nets are so visible, they are not the easiest of our native woodpeckers to catch. This grey, dreary morning however was brightened by a beautiful, adult female caught in one of our nets.

Soft green feathers cover the back and wings. The belly, chest and neck are paler green, while the rump is almost luminescent greeny yellow, beyond which the short tail becomes dark at the end. A brilliant red cap sits over a black mask and moustache, a brilliant white eye and a long sturdy bill. The lack of red in the moustache tells us this bird is a female, the quality of the feathers and their patterning tells us she is an adult. 

What a beaut! Female green woodpecker

Purple

So I have to admit we did not catch a purple bird this weekend… there are not too many purple herons, or sandpipers, or glossy starlings at these sites….

Orange

Once again we return to our redpolls. While most show the characteristic red, and in many it’s really red, there is, like with anything in life, so much variation! And this Saturday morning we caught a variety, from yellow-polls to one whose head looked, yup you guessed it orange!

An orange-poll!

Blue

If there is one bird we catch a lot of at all of our ringing sites, not so many at this farmland site but certainly at the house, it is the blue tit. A common bird in our gardens and often much maligned by ringers simply because we catch so many and due to the fact that they bite and are pretty aggressive! But look closely at a blue tit for a moment and they are a pretty cool bird, what with the stunning combination of blue, yellow and white but also with the black streak through the eyes that looks like a superheroes mask! They don’t tend to move too far, but have proved very useful over the years in training new ringers and understanding moult. Here, on this ringing rainbow weekend there is only one bird to stand for blue. But amongst the fifty or so we caught at the house on Sunday there was one that caught the eye. Already ringed with a sequence we did not recognise, it turns out this little blue tit had been ringed at High Lodge the other side of Thetford from the house near Diss! OK so it is only a distance of 9 miles, but for blue tits that ain’t half bad! 

The blue tit

And what do you find at the end of a ringing rainbow?

A pot of goldfinch!

Goldfinch

Winters Arrival

Finally after months of soggy and windy weather, winter it seems had finally made an appearance. The remains of the snow fall from the two evenings ago was still frozen solid, leaving patches of white that almost glowed blue in the predawn light. Our breath steamed in front of us and the grasses and soil crunched beneath our feet. Dawn breaks with a splash of pink and yellow tinging the streaks of whispy clouds that crossed the ever lighter blue sky. It reveals the farmland we have traversed. Stubble fields adjacent to ploughed fields with tall trees, deep brown bark topped with dark green heads, standing in a row between. At this far end of the stubble field, more traditional hedgerows and tall thorny bushes are absolutely brimming with birds. Flocks of lesser redpolls pile in and out of the cover as we approach and set nets traversing through the spikey trees. Reed buntings and yellowhammers sit atop of the hedgerow.

A cold sunrise

Nets set up and with the bright sun breaking over the trees and spilling across the stubble we retreat a distance to let the birds settle and return to the seed we have provided. 

As the morning progresses wave after wave of lesser redpolls come into the cover, and into the nets. The team works well, taking birds from the net and processing them quickly. It is a good feeling to be ringing large numbers of redpolls rather than the hundreds of blue and great tits that have dominated recent sessions. They are tricky, often only very subtle differences give clues to their age. The variation in colour is wide, some are dark, soft brown, while others are much paler with more white amongst the streaky brown. All have a splodge of red of the head, but it ranges from deep red to almost orange. Flecks of red on the breast alludes to a young bird being male. The adult males have extensive red on the breast and rump. All except the oldest of females have no red on the breast, and even then it is only a few small red feathers. 

Beautiful adult male lesser redpoll

Mixed in are good numbers of reed bunting, always providing a challenge when it comes to ageing, a handful of yellowhammers – stunningly yellow – and best of all some tree sparrows. What a delightful bird, with its chocolatey brown cap which looks like a delicious chocolate truffle! And the little black beauty spot in its white cheek. 

The fabulous tree sparrow

Out over the stubble other birds are busy feeding, such as skylarks who soar vertically upwards with rapidly fluttering wings, into the bright blue, before dropping back to the ground. Their distinctive call catches the ear throughout the morning. Then halfway through one call takes on a completely different tone. An alarm. Heads turn, and just a short distance away a skylark skips up and over the tall trees nearby. It twists one way and then another, sharp turn’s mid-air, and it is being followed just as acrobatically. By a merlin! For what seems like an age, but in reality was a few seconds, the tiny bird dashes one way and then another, desperately trying to shake the merlin off. Finally it dives for cover in the bushes. The merlin flicks up and over the trees one last time before heading high and away. This time the skylarks luck is in… it is not just seed on which birds feed in this landscape and it is all part of the heartbeat of the wild. 

Lunchtime and a cold breeze picks up, billowing the nets and along with the bright sunlight making them more obvious. It is time to pack up and go home to warm up.

We are going on an adventure....

'We are going on an adventure' 

'the clothes over pajamas type of adventure'

In the dark we climb into the car and start up the mountain. The narrow road winds along the ridge and then up through the valleys. Tall, solid, black mountains rear up on either side of us, pitch black and not a feature to be seen they are a solid mass. Above the sky is starting to turn blue rather than black. Dawn will soon be breaking, but for now the sky slowly changes through shades of deepest blue. 

Finally we stop and, bundled in warm clothes and hats, pajamas still buried beneath the layers, we continue on foot up onto the mountainside. The sky continues to lighten, the features of the valley and mountainside begin to appear. Trees, winding river and road below; bracken, heather and gorse covering the mountain. We climb up the muddy path. 

Ahead the sun finally breaks over the ridge, bright and blinding, spilling light over the deep russet reddish browns of the bracken and deep greens of the gorse. The mountainside becomes bathed in glorious morning light. The wind is keen, tearing at leaves and the bobble on hats. A curtain of rain sweeps down the valley below, slate grey in stark contrast to the bright blue above our heads. In this early light birds begin to call, the sound carrying on the wind. 

In search of Grouse

From the low bracken a bird suddenly erupts, wings whirring rapidly attached to a plump body and a short rounded tail, it is accompanied by a call that sounds like rapid 'go back go back go back'. If skims the tops of the heather before crash landing a short distance away. It is close to what we have specifically ventured out this early to see. Red Grouse.  

We are also hoping to find Black Grouse and so we continue on, splodging through muddy puddles and slipping along the winding path. The harsh call of a Raven catches our attention, lifting our gaze skywards. Over the ridge another bird appears, long winged and gracefully skimming through the morning air. A female Hen Harrier. 

The wind picks up, watering the eyes, and the rain that had skirted through the valley below now looks to be heading our way. It is time to turn back and return along the muddy paths to the warmth and shelter of the car. The adventure is over for today, time for a cup of team and a mince pie. 

Spectacle on the Estuary

The sun was descending through a crisp blue sky, heading for the horizon along which a few remaining clouds drifted with curtains of rain. The sky above was still clear and blue, fading to pale blue and gold at the horizon. From behind the dark greyish blue clouds come streaks of sunlight. A blustery wind rips across the land, tugging at scraggly bushes and tall grass and creating ripples in the incoming tide of water. Silvery channels of water meander across the mud flats, occasionally blazing gold as it catches the rays of the setting sun. Across this darkening mudscape is a living carpet of birds. Ripples of movement spread through the throng, even in the fading light you can see the golden tinge to the birds feathers. They are Golden Plover. Further along and there is a black and white mass of Oystercatchers. Suddenly the birds lift in waves into the blustery air creating a whirling mass of tiny dark specks against the pale blue and gold of the sky. Pale flashes catch the light as the birds twist and turn as one. They swirl restlessly until resettling on the mud flats - the spectacle of thousands of waders being pushed up the estuary and beach by the incoming tide. 

A whirling flock of waders

Away from the estuary and the waders, two birds suddenly appear from behind a bank. Long winged, graceful and elegant, they swoop along the bank, wing tips barely touching the tops of the grass before looping up and away. One perches on a fence post. It is a Pallid Harrier. A young bird which looks remarkably like the young and female of our own breeders, although becoming increasing rare themselves especially in England, the Hen Harrier. But a pale collar and pale feathers on the wing tells us it is a juvenile Pallid Harrier. The bird takes off again and almost from nowhere a different bird takes chase. Rounded wing and golden brown, a Short-eared Owl chases the harrier, swerving to and fro, sometimes dipping low and then diverting up and over the top of the bank the pair disappear from sight. The Pallid Harrier is not a usual bird for the UK, breeding on the steppes of Russia and central Asia before migrating south to winter in India and south-east Asia. Occasionally a wandering bird turns up in the UK causing some level of excitement amongst birders. 

Birders gather to get a glimpse of the Pallid Harrier

By now the sun has disappeared leaving a final trail of golden light and tinging the very tips of the clouds with pink. Above the sky is darkening. The water and mud of the estuary darkens to an almost purplely blue colour, and the waders are getting harder to see. In the sky above, against the deep dark blue, long ribbons of birds appear trailing across the sky, honking. Pink-footed Geese, hundreds and hundreds of them returning to the estuary to roost. On and on the skeins keep appearing, silhouetted against the final golden rays of sunlight on the horizon. 

Pink-footed Geese coming into roost

Ghostly Gulls

It seemed the spirit of Halloween was lingering, as a spooky, thick fog obscured all but the closest trees and the river. There was no wind and the dangling leaves of the willows trailed in the smooth flowing water like fingertips creating miniature ripples and whirlpools. Out of the white gloom came a brilliant flash of blue as a kingfisher shot down river and up into the lower branches of the willow, watching and waiting. The other birds of the river continue with their morning rituals, although it is already comparatively late in the day for them with the sun having been up for a few hours already. Ducks meander just past the old road bridge on whose worn stone you can still see the scars from tanks. Canada Geese preen themselves or feed on the grassy banks oblivious to the occasional car that appears briefly from the gloom. Overhead the harsh call of Carrion Crows and the cackle of Jackdaws echoes through the fog. Moorhens emerge from the reeds and sedge along the river’s edge with their characteristic bobbing head, circle a few times then disappear again. A family of Mute Swans, the two young still greyish brown, slowly patrol this small stretch of river. From the shrouded trees comes the twittering calls of various tits, Robins and Blackbirds, all heard but not seen.

Black-headed Gull (winter plumage)

Across the dark water stretches a footbridge, the clattering of puppy paws and footsteps its usual fare. But today it has a mist net covering its length, rising high above its barrier. The lure of food brings the ducks, swans and even the Moorhens closer to this bridge, and with them come the Black-headed Gulls. Brilliant white underneath, with silvery grey backs and bright orangey red legs and bill, they bounce effortlessly through the air like ghosts. Their heads are essentially white, with just a smudge of black behind a bright, black eye. Twisting and turning they spy the provisions, dropping down to pick at it from the water’s surface, watching as what is not gobbled by duck, goose or swan floats down river and under the bridge. The gulls flick up and over the bridge and one falls into the trap. The large mesh net is adept at holding the larger, longer winged gull until it is removed by experienced hands. 

And so there it is, in the hand, a small elegant Black-headed Gull. All ready for a metal ring, and in this case a colour ring to add to the project looking at gull movement from the region. We know birds are often moving between the UK and the continent especially Denmark and The Netherlands. But individuals have been found further afield including Senegal and Mauritania. So where will this bird go? Who knows but it will be easier for someone to report it since it has a colour ring which means it can be identified without being re-caught.

Ringed and colour ringed

It does not take long to process the bird. Unlike some of the larger gulls that take a number of years to replace all their juvenile feathers and look adult, Black-headed Gulls are will attain adult plumage when they are just over one year old. So at this time of year, there will either be first-winter birds (so birds hatched this summer) or adult winter birds. And so with that, and its colour ring, the bird is weighed and measured and then released quickly disappearing into the smokey fog. 

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…