If you go down to the woods today...

Nope we didn’t have to go in disguise and there were not all the teddy bears having a picnic, but this time we were definitely in for a big surprise. 

Sunlight from a golden evening streams through the trees, the dried crunchy leaves and needles scattered on the forest floor glow in the dappled sunlight. The trees are bushing out with bright green leaves, mixing with dark evergreens of the pine trees. A rustle in the fallen leaves and two men appear from the open grassy track, carrying a ladder, and head into the shade of the trees. They move as quietly as possible, carrying their load. Manoeuvring the ladder against one of the tall trees, one begins to climb to the large nesting box attached to its trunk. With care he opens the side hatch and peers in. The box is a Tawny Owl nest box, one of 20 put up around the Forest in a new monitoring project. 

Sunlight streams through as the guys check the box

At the bottom of the box on top of the fresh sawdust placed on its wooden floor, is a deep cosy nest of greyish, soft down and hidden beneath a small layer of feathers are 10 creamy eggs.  

Here is the surprise. The eggs do not belong to Tawny Owl, or even Stock Dove perhaps the other species expected to inhabit the boxes. They do not even belong to Jackdaw, although that would be unusual given the location within the Forest. No, the nest belongs to a Mandarin. A beautifully exotic duck whose usual range is in East Asia but that was introduced in the early 20th Century and is now a naturalised resident. 

It seems odd, a duck nesting in a tree cavity. But there are many that do, including our native Goldeneye. 

Mandarin nest. Photo: Mike Toms

But there it is all nestled within the squared walls of our box. This time the female is not present and has carefully covered the eggs to keep them warm in her absence. Carefully the ladder is removed and the team retreats, we will return again to check the nest again with the hope of catching the female as she leaves, but also to check that the ducklings have climbed out OK. For that is how it must be, the ducklings will claw up the inner wall of the cavity and launch themselves out of the hole! Good job they are so soft and ‘fluffy’!

A few days later and the glorious sunshine had vanished to be replaced by a rather dull, grey morning. But once again, moving softly and quietly between the trees and over the rustling leaves the team with the ladder returns to the tree and the box. This time we are in luck, the female is in the box and we are able to catch her. What a beautiful bird. While the male may have all the flashy colours, the subtle beauty of the soft greyish brown feathers, mottled chest and big dark eye of the female is captivating. 

The beautiful female Mandarin

We let the female go with an extra bit of bling in the form of a uniquely identifiable ring. She will return to her nest and very soon those little ducklings will be making that leap of faith. It’s then a long walk through the forest leaf litter and grassy tracks to the nearest water of the river. 

Whale Watching in the Azores

After taking people ‘virtual whale watching’ in the Azores for the last three WhaleFest events, I felt it was finally time to set foot on the archipelago myself. But when to go? The virtual whale watching experience at WhaleFest had focused on the sperm whale. For the people of the Azores this is The whale; when they talk about whales on the island it is about the sperm whale. This is the whale they hunted until the mid-1980s, still using traditional methods. They are the whales that are intricately intertwined with the culture and history of the islands. They are the whales that are present year round. So I could go any time, weather permitting. But speak with any of those affectionately known as ‘whale geeks’ (and I count myself honoured to be included in this) and they talk of spring. Of baleen whales. At this time of year ocean giants such as blue, fin and sei whale migrate past the Azores on their way north. At the same time there is a bloom of phytoplankton leading to large numbers of zooplankton (tiny animals like krill) aka whale food! My mind was set, spring it would be with the hope of encountering these magnificent giants. 

And so we arrived on the island of Faial, first week of May, smack bang in the middle of the spring migration. The charm of the island captured me from the start; dominated by the caldeira, the huge crater of an extinct volcano, brilliant green and lush vegetation slopes down to meet dark volcanic rocks, black sandy beaches and the glistening azure blue sea. In the charming town of Horta the traditional buildings are white, with coloured borders to the windows and doors, dark shutters and topped off with red tile roofs. Those that break the trend of white tend to be painted a pale, pastel colour, maybe yellow or blue. The streets are cobbled with dark stone, and along the sidewalks patterned with white stone into writing or pictures; a windmill, boat or whale. Madeiran wall lizards scamper over walls made of volcanic rock, its surface characteristically peppered with small holes. The tree lined seafront promenade overlooks the marina where numerous yachts line up, busy but not nearly as busy as it will become. The town is a traditional stopover for transatlantic sailors, many of which have left their mark with paintings on the marina steps. Looking east over the channel the impressive sight of the eponymous Pico which for the majority of our stay has at least some cloud cover, on occasion completely obscured while even on our clearest day a band lies just beneath its peak. 

Horta (Photo: Lee Barber)

But as captured as I am by the island, it is the sea and the whales I am here for. 

My first two trips are onboard the RIB Risso with Horta Cetaceos. Trip one and our skipper Pedro expertly guides the boat over the swell and out to the south of Faial. He is guided by the lookouts, a throwback to the old whaling days, now these sharp eyed watchers call out all species for whale watchers. Pedro uses the speed of the boat to take us quickly to the locations, then slows and carefully manoeuvres us around not one but three different species of baleen whale. First a humpback whale, with tail fluke lifted in greeting it seems. Then not one but two majestic fin whales, of which I am so used to seeing at a distance, high up from ferries or cruise ships, now, low to the water I am struck by their beauty, gracefully slipping through the waves. Then from the grey blue waves surfaces a magnificent blue whale. If you thought fin whale looked big from a small boat, the blue blows them away. The blow is huge, followed by a massive head and long, long, long body. Finally a tiny dorsal fin breaks the surface followed by a short tail stock and then whale disappears beneath the vast ocean. In a word it is awesome!

The awesome blue whale!

Trip two and Pedro heads north of Faial. Conditions are not great for the spotters, with high cloud the ocean is a calm, silvery grey that makes it harder for them to spot the blows. But they are seeing something, a back of a whale, a fluke print. And so we go. We are distracted though. In the calm conditions and with Cory’s shearwaters everywhere we are distracted by a group of bottlenose dolphins and then of common dolphins. Once again being so low to the water gives me a new perspective on both of these species, a perspective I must say I loved! Finally we arrive in the area where the spotter has seen this whale. Still it is down to us on the boat to find it. Ahead I glimpse something breaking the surface. No blow, just a dark back and small dorsal fin. It is a whale but a small one. We approach carefully and are treated to views of a minke whale. A whale that is very familiar to me, but of which sightings in the Azores are more unusual. With reports of larger whales we head back. It is those majestic fin whales again. We watch as a whale surfaces four or five time’s then dives for around 6 minutes. With Pedro’s skill and experience we are able to manoeuvre close enough to give the whale space, but to allow us to see the characteristic white lower jaw on the right side. With the sun beginning to break through the cloud the sea turns an oily blue colour and on our way back to the marina we encounter the bottlenose dolphins again. The group is chilled, spread out and relaxed. They approach and through the deep blue you can see their full length as they ride alongside the boat. It is magic to be so close to such beautiful animals in the wild. 

The white right lower jaw of a fin whale

My final trip is a full day with Whale Watch Azores and whale biologist Lisa Steiner. After a night of wind and rain the day dawns with a clear sky, just the odd white fluffy cloud obscures the vast blue sky and skirts the midriff of Pico. Despite the pickup in the wind and the odd white cap the sea conditions are not bad and at times the wind drops away leaving a stunning blue ocean. This time we head right along the coast of Pico on the trail of reports of a blue whale. Once again we encounter welcome distractions. The first a totally chilled out humpback whale that simply cruised along just under the water’s surface. From the slight elevation of the catamaran’s bow we can see the almost white glow of the whale’s pectoral fins. Then we encounter common dolphins, racing through the blue waves and sweeping this way and that under the bow of the catamaran. It is one of those moments where the water has calmed and it is almost glassy in places. Further on and the distinctive movement of striped dolphins catches our eye. They speed through the water, cutting the surface with a spray of water or leaping tremendously high out of the water. Then finally we meet up with a couple of other boats and from the surface a blast of water shoots high into the air. It is the blue. What follows is an awesome encounter. Again the slight elevation allows us to see the vast blue shadow of the whale beneath the water before it breaks it to breath. The routine is the same again, surface four or five times then down for around 8 minutes. But this time, this whale raised its fluke out of the water every time it dived for its deeper dive! Not all blue whales lift their tail flukes, and not all every time they dive! With each lift of the tail a whoop would escape my lips, as unstoppable as the blue whale itself. The trip is topped off with ‘whale’ riding dolphins. As they approach vessels to ride the pressure wave the bow creates, dolphins will often ride the wave a whale creates as it moves through the water. I have heard of it, but this was the first time I had seen it. Common dolphins would surface and then just behind a fin whale would surface! 

Awesome tail fluke of a magnificent blue whale

It was a long trip back to Horta, but I felt at peace sitting on the bow of a boat, watching waves, Cory’s shearwaters and even a couple of loggerhead turtles, remembering each detail of all of the encounters I had had during my superb trip to the Azores. I can see why this group of nine islands in the middle of the Atlantic is a mecca for whale watchers and is being considered for Whale Heritage Site status by the World Cetacean Alliance. 

I will be back. Summer dolphins and the sperm whales that have eluded me this trip are calling….

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Stanley

On 31st May 2014, on a very misty, very early morning, I caught my first adult cuckoo. He was a stunning bird, and as well as having a metal ring with a unique number this cuckoo was also fitted with a satellite transmitter as part of a BTO project. I wrote a story about that morning called To Catch a Cuckoo, and at the end of that post I asked where would this cuckoo go, how would he fair during his migration south and hopeful return? The bird was named Stanley by generous sponsors Derek and Maggie Washington. 

The magnificent Stanley

Well, by June 2014 Stanley was off! He was over the English Channel and heading south. It is one of the interesting results the tagging project is showing, male cuckoos in particular do no hang around, and very quickly start heading south. By August he was across the Sahara and recovering from the crossing in the dry regions of Nigeria and Cameroon. By September 2014 he had moved further south over the Equator into the rainforest block of Congo and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Here he stayed until starting his northerly migration in January 2015. Heading northwards through West Africa, Stanley arrived in southern Spain in April 2015 and returned to the UK by the end of the month. He was the third of the tagged cuckoos to arrive back, but perhaps a little oddly arrived in Cornwall before heading back to his breeding grounds in Norfolk. Once again Stanley did not stay long, and by mid-June he was in southern France heading south. He arrived in Africa by the middle of July, and by September he was back in the Congo rainforest in the same area where he had spent the previous winter. By March 2016 he was well on his way north and west, and the race with the other tagged cuckoos was on! Who would be first back this time? Early April and Stanley raced over the Sahara and then the Mediterranean, hot on the heels of Vigilamus who was leading the race of the tagged cuckoos. April 21st 2016 and Stanley had won the race! He was the first of the tagged cuckoos to return to the UK in 2016! Whoop! Even more interesting is that once again he first touched down on English soil in the south west! This time Devon. By the 22nd he was back in Norfolk and near to Cranwich!

Such wonderful data is coming back from the satellite tagging, more that we could get from just metal ringing alone. The map on the BTO’s website shows that Stanley tends to head straight down through Italy and across the Sahara on his way south. While on his return he heads northwest into West Africa before heading across the Sahara and back through southern Spain. So far he always seems to make landfall in southwest England before heading northeast to Norfolk.

In the time since I caught Stanley and fitted his metal ring things have changed for me. My life has turned upside down, in a very good way, with the arrival of my little Robyn. But I have continued to catch and ring birds. I have not however held an adult cuckoo in that time.  Stanley, of course is not the only cuckoo to be back in the UK and Norfolk. My first cuckoo of the year was at our ringing site, near to Stanley’s breeding ground, on the 17th April. Then just yesterday, at the next ringing session again a cuckoo could be heard. This time, with the Robyn alarm waking us extra early we took the opportunity to set a net in the hope we might catch another cuckoo. It was not looking great, with the net remaining empty all morning and with a cuckoo tantalising us in the trees nearby. In typical fashion though the last check revealed a rather large looking grey bird in the bottom shelf. For the first time since Stanley almost two years before I had an adult male cuckoo in the hand! While this cuckoo does not have a satellite tag to tell us all the fine details of his movements, he does have a metal ring which if recovered will certainly contribute to the knowledge we are building of these incredible birds. 

The equally stunning cuckoo caught today...

What a bird!

Information on Stanley's journey so far was used with the kind permission of the BTO. 

Lynford Water

It had been a pretty dismal day, raining on and off, not really inspiring a desire to go outside. By the afternoon things seemed to be improving, the rain had stopped and while clouds still hung in the sky it was brightening. The clouds no longer looked ominous blue grey but were brightening to a more silvery grey with a hint of sun beyond. Now we ventured out, heading into the Forest and to Lynford Water. Right next to the arboretum, Lynford Water for many years was used for gravel extraction, during which numerous flint artefacts including handaxes were discovered. Not only that but in 2002 the remains of at least nine woolly mammoths, a woolly rhino, a bear and reindeer along with Neanderthal flint tools were discovered!  What they had discovered was a site where Neanderthal people had butchered mammoths some 60,000 years ago! It is one of the most important Neanderthal sites ever found in Britain. When extraction ceased completely a few years ago the site was restored with the creation of a variety of habitats including dry acid grassland, floodplain grazing marsh, reedswamp mosaic and reedbeds. Not only that the site was opened to the public. To be totally honest it is not the prehistoric history of Lynford Water that now brings me to the site, although it is exciting to think of woolly mammoths and Neanderthal humans living here. These days with the habitat restored it is the bird life which brings me, and many others to Lynford Water.

Barley enjoying Lynford Water. Photo Lee Barber

Wandering down the path from the car park, the pine trees of the Forest open out to reveal a grassland bounded by patches of dark green pine, some recently felled areas which are a tangle of branches, scrub and gorse, and the lakes themselves with small sandy beaches running into the smooth, dark water. From a stand of birch comes the song of a recently returned willow warbler; our first Norfolk swallows dip low over the water; the sound of siskins comes from the tall dark pines surrounding the open grass. The distinctive song of a chiffchaff reveals a bird carrying nesting material, pieces of reddish brown dried leaves stick out from its tiny beak. A little time spent watching reveals the start of a nest being woven amongst the grass at the base of a small tree amongst low gorse bushes.

Chiffchaff 

We walk around the open grassland, its soil a little churned in places, small prickly plants of gorse and bramble, poking through the open soil and yellowy green grass. Yet more bird song, robins in trees, dunnock in the bracken and debris of the clearfell, and in the open grassy meadow… the call of woodlark. On a small thorny bush sits one of these beautiful, cryptically coloured birds. Once again a little time spent watching this bird and listening reveals a nest. The only reason we search for and approach the nest is because we have a Schedule 1 licence to do so. No one should approach a nest of this species without such a licence. Larks, as with many ground nesting species are notorious for leaving the nest at an early age, even before they can fly. An adaptation to help escape predators. These three were already starting to wander just outside of the nest cup itself, even though they had another week or so until they could fly.  A quick call brings a colleague with some kit and the chicks are not only ringed, but also colour ringed, adding to the project being carried out on this species in the Forest. The colour rings means that the birds will be uniquely identifiable in the field without having to recapture them. It is the first woodlark nest we have ever found on our own and not only that, based on the age of the chicks it is the earliest woodlark nest of the year in Breckland!

Three woodlark chicks. Photo Lee Barber

Memories

The wide promenade in Aberystwyth stretches along its coast, the sandstone paving of the prom drops down to the grey pebbly beach below. At one end the tall cliff of Constitution Hill with its old electric railway heading straight up to the view point and café at the top, awaits those who do not wish to tackle the zig zagging path up through the grass and gorse. A row of traditional Victorian sea front houses follow the contour of the bay as it curves away from Consti (as we always call it). Their clean fascia’s gleam in the brilliant sunshine. A pale blue sea rolls gently onto the pebble beach. The tide is retreating revealing almost black, exposed rocks with small shimmering pools and shiny, wet sea weed. Half way and the pier juts out into the bay, its structure dappled with the evidence of the thousands of starlings that roost there during the winter months and put on a spectacular display at dusk. Here the Victorian houses give way to the old college, the warm brown façade ornately carved. Next there is the old castle, its crumbling turrets and few archways sit on bright green grass, are all that remain on the hill. At its tip a statue honouring those who gave their lives in the war. From here looking right you can look back along the curve of the bay, towards Consti. To the left the promenade, pebbly beach and houses continue to the harbour, its stone wall guiding fishing vessels, yachts and other pleasure vessels into safety. The Welsh coast continues as far as the eye can see, cliffs rising and dipping to hidden coves and beaches.  It is a glorious day. The warm sun only tempered by a cool, stiff breeze that creates little white caps on the waves beyond the shelter of the bay. 

The promenade in Aberystwyth

It is an old haunt for me. Walking along the promenade I reminisce about the three years I spent at University here. The memories flood back. Eating fish and chips on the bench with Lee watching the starlings or just the sea. Laughing with friends as we walk between pubs during a football club social or the famous lab coat pub crawl of the Biology Society. Standing at the window of the student halls watching waves crash up the beach, and over it, leaving pebble dash over the road. Eating ice cream from the little ‘Don Gelato’ at the pier. Sitting up at the castle of hours, gazing out at the sea, hoping and wishing for bottlenose dolphins. It is an odd feeling walking up this promenade again, thinking of all these memories while pushing my daughter in a pushchair ahead of me. 

The town remains glorious. I had a brilliant three years during University, and every time I return there are always new memories made. This time it is the bird life of the sea front that I will remember. As we get out of the car near Consti a Red Kite drifts overhead. On the exposed rock around the pier flocks of Turnstone and Ringed Plover wait for the rest of the rock to become exposed so they can start feeding. On the turrets and carved façade of the Old College there is a male Black Redstart in stunning breeding plumage.  A flock of Purple Sandpipers sweep in from along the coast and perch on a ledge in the wall. Out on the water flocks of Herring Gull sit, bobbing up and down on the waves, cleaning and preening themselves having followed a fishing vessel in. Rock Pipits call from lampposts and strut over the grass of the Castle, as oblivious to the tourists taking pictures as they are to it.   

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The final stop on this trip is up Consti. This time, with baby in tow, we take the train. Slowly the whole of Aberystwyth and the surrounding countryside is revealed before us. At the top we can see further down the coast, and now can see up the coast to Clarach Bay and Aberdyfi. On a really clear day you can see Bardsey Island. Today the horizon is hazy but the view no less stunning. Up here Skylarks are singing, Jackdaws chase each other, and on the steeply sloping cliff a Stonechat perches upright on a branch of gorse. 

With lunch beckoning it is time to head back down in the train and head for the caravan with more memories made in Aberystwyth. 

The view from Consti

A Snipe's Tale 2: The Return of Jack

There have been two tales of snipe for Wild Barley. The first the story of a Common Snipe ringed at our site in Cranwich and recovered in northern Spain and the second the story of both Common and Jack Snipe caught and ringed in North Wiltshire. They may also may a cameo appearance in the stories from The Gambia, but as you can tell we do not usually catch Snipe in Norfolk. And we are not alone. In 2014 only one Snipe was ringed in the whole of Norfolk, and no Jack Snipe! You have to go right back to 2009 to find the last Jack Snipe ringed in Norfolk. So when scouting out a new site at a local farm and the distinct call of not only Snipe but Jack Snipe comes from tufts of grass and reed surrounding pools it immediately piques the interest of whether we could catch them. The experience of ringing with others know becomes invaluable. Those opportunities to learn and watch from other ringers to have caught Snipe before, both in The Gambia and North Wiltshire, provide invaluable knowledge and ideas. 

Just before dusk, with the sun heading for the horizon following a cool, very early spring day, nets were set around one of the farms pools. The idea was to catch any birds coming into the edges of the pools to roost. Dusk meant the nets would not be so visible to birds that have such good eyesight. 

Sunset over the site

There was no guarantee it would work. There never is. But luck, or knowledge, was on our side and the return to the nets revealed not one, but three Jack Snipe! 

These three, along with the rest of the wintering Jack Snipe population in the UK will soon be hearing off to Scandinavia and Russia to breed. But at least now a very small (OK a teeny tiny) proportion of the Norfolk wintering population have rings on and so there is always a chance they will be recovered and that might reveal where exactly there are going to breed. Just to have them in the hand provides a unique opportunity to study aspects of their moult and biology and ultimately to contribute to the knowledge of this species. 

It is a privilege to hold any bird in the hand, but to hold those that are rarely caught is extra special. So it is a huge congratulations to Lee for catching three of these wonderful birds. 

The beautiful Jack Snipe

Ringers to the Rescue

It happens more often that you might think. Birds getting into buildings. It could occur for a number of reasons, perhaps they find their way in for a warm, dark place to roost for the night. In extremely cold conditions, a warm dark building has a particular allure. It might be they are chasing food, a small bird, a small mammal. While in some buildings and for some birds this is no problem. Think of barn owls nesting and roosting in farm outbuildings; swallows nesting in stables; robins nesting in sheds. But sometimes it is not in the grand plan. A chase into a building or a warm place to sleep results in a bird becoming trapped amongst human activity. These are no outbuildings, stables or sheds with permanent open access, these are warehouses, factories, offices that are locked each night and a hive of activity during the day. Once in, there is often no obvious escape, either because the doors are shut or the activity puts birds off. In many cases they simply cannot find the way out. 

So what to do? It can be distressing not only for the bird, but for the people too. Many spend hours trying to shoo a bird out, only to get stressed as it swoops high up in a warehouse, perching on rafters and lights. The bird seems to just continually avoid the wide open door where the wind whistles through. Then they try ringing for help. But who you gonna call? Well not ghost busters that’s for sure. 

The beauty that is a female sparrowhawk

As licenced bird ringers we are in a unique position, in that we are legally able to use mist nets and other methods to capture wild birds. More than that we have the experience of how to go about it.

So when Lee received a call mid-week to say there was a sparrowhawk trapped in a workshop in Thetford it was time for us to step into action. Amongst cars in various stages of repair, perched high up amongst the dust, the rafters and the strip lighting a female sparrowhawk sat gazing down. She kicked up dust every time she flew, changing perch as she watched the activity below with a bright yellow eye.

With a strategically placed net, utilising an elevated section of the workshop above the offices, it was not long before we had the bird safely in a bird bag and ready for releasing. We took the opportunity to ring the bird, it is not that often that we catch female sparrowhawks as they tend to be bigger than males and do not readily stick in our small mesh nets. With some biometrics taken and a brand new shiny ring, the last thing we did was show the bird to the workers, who for the morning had simply seen the tail end of a brown streaky bird sprinkling dust on them. Many had never have seen such a beautiful bird so close…

Here you get a real sense of the size of the bird

And so to the great relief of bird and workers alike this trapped sparrowhawk spread her wings and took off into the bright Thetford sunshine, no worse for wear from the experience of the last few hours.