A gorgeous male of the really pale variety, though not at the Nose - he was sat on Wheatear Ridge at Meadfoot. At Hope's Nose there were a couple of migrants - Skylarks - and a notable decrease in the numbers of Blackcaps singing [migrants going t'other way, then?]. Though the Nose was Wheatear-less, there was some drama to watch; a barny offshore as a Cormorant caught a big flatfish [looked like a Dab]. It fought off several Herring Gulls and another Cormorant, but just as it was swallowing its catch, a big boss Geeb landed on it's back! This propelled the fish out of the unlucky Cormorant and the gull duly grabbed it. Things were not over, though, as while the Geeb was in turn trying to swallow the fish, the Cormorant took to the attack! It held itself straight and rigid and raced towards the Geeb, looking like a powerboat as it speared over the water. The Geeb did not hesitate to take flight and retired to the shore, where it ate the fish the slow way, surrounded by a dozen assorted gulls in a just-out-of-pecking-range semicircle...
Right then, as threatened promised, here's more detail about those wonderful Herons of the Night...
Day Herons at Woolacombe
Fridays are always last-minute affairs, as I'll never know in advance how tired I'll be after work. This one was an important one, though - Night Heron being a Lifer [I was working for the Prawle one and as for the Dart bird...] and me having work on Saturday and Family Stuff on Sunday. As it happened, it was a good shift and I felt safe [ish] to drive, so onwards to Woolacombe! Its a nice run the way I went, following the Exe and Taw, and I made decent time [very traffic-dependent, though]. Looking out for birds while driving is always tricky, but I still have a go and this time saw five pairs of soaring Buzzards and a drake Goosander [they stand out] on the way, not bad!
Woolacombe is a beach with a small grockle-pot attached, at the end of a proper Devon valley. :) An ickle stream runs down it, lined with bushes and small trees - which turn into big trees up towards the very nice garden of the very nice lady whose pond attracted the herons in the first place. Walking up the footpath that runs parallel to the stream I kept my eyes open for any surprises [a dirty plastic bag in a tree got me the same as everyone else who passed it!] but saw nothing better than a Chiffchaff before I reached the pond. Which is behind and in front of a whole bunch of very dense trees. This did not look promising. Another birder arrived as I did - there was nobody on site - and we shared a view on how finding small herons among all those trees, with a mostly-obscured pond and a whole bunch of gullies and sections of stream that couldn't be seen, was going to take time and patience.
An hour more or less passed.
Cue a local birder, who came down the footpath, stopped for a chat then went on.
Maybe a minute later, said local birder waves us down to him, where he has an adult Night Heron sat besides the stream at about 40'....
Oh.
Hell.
Yeah.
:D
Scope-filler at minimum zoom... It eventually started to work its way upstream, moving with an almost cartoonish deliberateness. Then, when stood upon a fallen tree trunk, it just hopped off. Dropped pretty much it's height into the water. I'm sorry, but there's just no way I can describe how charming I found that one action, you had to be there. [[I'm sorry also for using that phrase - terribly annoying of me, I know...]]. Eventually it made its way away from the stream to the slope beyond, where it tried out several logs before seeming to find one that fitted its feet comfortably. Another north Devon birder had by now arrived, and several interested passers by had been shown what all the fuss was about and were duly impressed by the 'very pretty bird'. After I think maybe 15 minutes of attempting to doze, it flew up to the pond and, though re-spotted by the eagle-eyed local birder it then moved again out of sight.
Any attempts at re-finding it were curtailed by news of the 1w, which the first birder had found down the valley while leaving. Right down the valley, sat by the stream on a gravelly weedy bank in full view of an open field and the path. You couldn't pick it unaided, though - just too cryptic. Eventually, after giving the four of us present a very long look, it too decided to move - into a tree! After nearly losing its balance on landing - only frantic flapping kept it from going over backwards - it hung on a for a while, defying gravity and the brisk wind, before finally admitting defeat and flying up towards the pond.
Morning had become afternoon and I decided that I'd had great views of both adult and young and that staying longer wasn't going to better them, so it was probably a good idea to get going before the Dreaded Friday Rush began. [Yes, I know, terrible, putting convenience ahead of going after Spoonbills or Black Brants...]. On my way back I only saw 3 Buzzards - though they were all together and having a 'discussion' - but bettered the Goosander with a Dipper on the Taw! I know, a Dipper from a car; pure spawny luck or what? Ok, maybe not entirely luck - I'd noticed the good-looking section of river on the way up and as there was no other traffic I was able to drive a little more slowly and glance a little more often while maintaining due care and attention.
Oh, but those Night Herons are beautiful! The books really don't do them justice, neither do the photos. 'Little black and grey herons with yellow legs', right? Wrong! They're blue! The 'grey' has a touch of lavender in it, the bill is powder blue shading to near black [ok, changing due to breeding condition, but go with me, ok?], that 'black crown' is royal blue - it lit up in the sunshine! The mantle and scaps are midnight blue with a wonderful blue-green sheen.. They may be 'more active at dawn and dusk' but if you see one in good light, you won't forget it.
Right, shutting up now...
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