It Just Keeps Coming

And the series of wall of text updates continues.

We left Our Hero having just tarted off to Plimoth, where he saw a surprisingly easy Red-crested Pochard and didn't see surprisingly absent Mandarin, as well as finding walking just over there ['twas barely a mile] surprisingly hard...

This was on a very sunny Friday*, straight from another week of Nights [oh yes, no sleep 'til yearlisting done, to mangle Motörhead], so there was a Saturday, a Sunday, and maybe even a Monday afternoon to come.!

What did I get up to? [[Other than getting off that third person nonsense]]  Read on... 

A forecast sunny day and some initiative saw me up reasonably early and up onto t'Moor! I decided to do one of the classics; up Holne Moor to Ryder's Hill, then down to the Heap of Sinners, over to Puper's, then across the Mardle and back along Holne Lee. It was lovely up there.

 

Bird-wise; a good-size flock of Golden Plover, singing Skylarks, displaying Ravens, a distant soaring yeartick, a close calling not-yeartick, and 2 flushed Snipe were the points of main interest. 

The walk was not as soggy as expected from the huge levels of recent rain, at least until it came to getting over the Mardle. Which was still up and very frisky. The ford that was the traditional crossing-point for this walk was thigh-deep in the middle...

Yeah.

 

So I found myself working my way upstream, looking for a crossing point. 

Now, the thing about high Moor watercourses is that they've all been streamed over the centuries [to millenia]. This means that they tend to be a bed of too-large-to-move boulders sitting on the bedrock, with the gaps filled with smaller stones, sand, and eventually soil under a variable layer of vegetation. The watercourse meanders through this, with the boulders showing as pretty features in the stream. A large enough volume of water - like say a flood event - running through tends to wash away the interstitial material, often leaving a mat of living vegetation as a surface covering with nothing but water underneath.  

You see where this is going, don't you?

 

So did I, being naturally paranoid cautious, and always having a stick with me on t'Moor for a reason. So I was not surprised when - maybe ten feet from the river's edge - my foot, put on seeming grass, just kept going down. Thanks to keeping two points of contact I caught myself when only knee-deep, and survived without even getting flooded boots [gaiters are also useful things] though with a couple of strained muscles as a momento.

On Dartmoor, never assume you're putting your feet on solid ground. 

Next day it rained. Quite a lot. Supposed to be showers, but well.

I was a little tired and achey, but got out in the afternoon to look for reported yearticks. Just a nice amble on the level, don't need more than bins. Dartington to Queen's Marsh, where a Green Sand and Mandarins had been reported. In pouring rain I found neither. Persistence turned to annoyance, and I told the weather what I thought of it. The rain was so offended that it went off in a huff and sunshine ensued. The prospect of walking back in increasing heat did not appeal either, but that's weather-vengeance for you. Heading back, I still kept looking [it's what you do] and so did not miss the 13+ Mandarin [only 2 females] and Green Sand which had materialised about halfway up.

Result!

Mandarin being species 100 for the year, by the way.

I allowed myself a celebratory coffee and cake at the centre; sat outside to dare it to rain again. It didn't and a Collared Dove flew over. Not a yeartick but always nice to see.

Nights means I often have a Monday afternoon to play with, and I used this one to go after another yeartick. Pochard. Yes, Pochard.

Gone are the days of a flock reliably wintering on Slapton Ley, with others all over the place, oh dear. That I'd thought - and even hoped - that the female Ring-necked Duck [vagrant from north america..!!] on the Ley earlier in the year was actually a Pochard is a damning indictment on the state of birding and the madness of yearlisting.

Ahem.

So, 2 Pochard reported on Exminster lagoon. I approached from the south, and the Big Scope duly presented.. Wait, aren't there TWO females? Yes, one male, two females. I could not get all three birds in shot at once for the definitive pic, looking into the afternoon Sun really not helping. Oh well.

I also caught up with Knot on the estuary for the year, and was annoyed to see yet another kite boarder ignoring the rules to flush all the wildlife as he zoomed down from Topsham - over the flats - and off towards Starcross... 

The shoulder I'd wrenched on the Mardle objected to carrying my scope - even in a rucksack - and so it would be a couple of weeks before I risked the scope again. In the mean time, I prowled the Patch on foot, seeing no yearticks, and took a sunny Sunday to Yarner with the Folks, which was a lovaly amble, though again no yearticks.

 

 

My first Friday afternoon of the Day cycle I decided to have lunch in the field and once again dip Bittern at Bowling Green. Having no scope means it won't hurt if there's no Bittern to not see, right? Just have lunch, maybe see something, then hit the lanes on the way home.

The three Pochard from Exminster were there, and being proved right about them being three [three not two has History for me. Long old story, not going into it] was most satisfying. A territorial pair of Black Swans also showed up, sorting out the 2cy Mutes and looking spectacular. They breed; they're feral, they count. Just as much as Canda Geese, Mandarins, Little Owls, Golden Pheasants [ahem], Muscovy Ducks, Ruddy Shelduck....

The Bittern remained stubbornly invisible. I was a little less bothered than the time before.

The lanes between Exe and Teign contained many many Pheasants [Common] and a couple of Red-legged Partridges, but no Greys. We try and try again. [[And again and again and-]]

March marched in with, well, not really a lion-like roar. But I was determined to at least try a seawatch of a carefully-limited nature.

Two hours at Glonk Corner with lunch and a few birds. No shearwaters or skuas, oh no [weep] but there were birds and I didn't break anything.

21 Gannets, 12 Guillemots, 21 Razorbills, 3 Red-throated Divers, an interesting-looking female Scoter sp., 2 Fulmar, and no less than 9 species of gull. Not big numbers, but it was lovely to just be able to do it.

Being good and nursing the truly over the top numbers of soft-tissue injuries I've been plagued with since Yule has not been easy. 

March means madness.

Wheatear madness.

Every year I go insane trying to a) find the first Wheatear of the year and b) see it at the Nose.

I never succeed at the first.

I drive myself into the floor doing the second.

 

This year it took nine goes.

Nine.

 

Though I got three good birds in those eight 'failed' visits, none of which I can talk about, due to The Rules.

So we talk about what else I did.

Chasing yearlists of a Devonian Nature invariably requires at least one trip to North Devon. This is not just due to a species I can't talk about despite being advertised on big signs and everything [ffs], but because I feel if you're doing a geographical area, you should cover it properly. I mean, if you were on Scilly, you'd not just stay on St. Mary's, would you? So doing a Devon yearlist, you should be all over Devon. Over west to Plimoth, up north to the Taw-Torridge, down south to Prawle or Soar, out east to the Backwater.

I like the trip to Tamar Lakes. Now I know not to follow satnav [which aims you at horrificly - even by todays' standards! - potholed lanes...], anyways. At a classified place en route, a Little Owl flew across the road in front of me, which aided to this feeling. 😃

[[In past years I've had Merlin and Short-eared Owl do the same to me. I take it to be a Sign that the Goddess of Birding approves of my making the effort]] 

Little birds were not feeling helpful, and once again I had to do some walking, up to the Upper Lake [which unlike the Lower Lake is half Devon and half Cornwall] and around the Devon side thereof. Where I scored very nicely.

 

Some other interesting birds in the area later, I had a decision to make. Glossy Ibis and Whooper Swan had been on opposite sides of the Taw-Torridge, but neither had been reported for a few days. I could go for one or the other. Which?

I figured a great big white swan was quite visible, whereas Isbises are very capable of hiding in even an oopen grassy field [recall the Clennon bird], so the Whooper was likely gone but the Glossy might still be there.

Hours of effort later I had no isbis. BIG flock of Linnets, party of Cattle Egrets at quite close range, a Cetti's Warbler, but no Glossy Ibis.

No SEO or Barn Owl on the way home, either.

Insult is added when I get home and see that the Whooper Swan is not only still on Braunton Burrows but showing to all and sundry. Feck. [Then it buggers off before I can get back. Naturally.]

Another Friday lunch. Another trip to Bowling Green.

The territorial Black Swans are still present. Nobody's seen the Bittern.

This time there are two sleeping Spoonbills and low-flying Sand Martins, too. Hey, there are worse ways to spend time.

Then something big and brown lifts out of the reeds and flies on broad wings out onto the grass to the right of the hide?!?!?!

BITTERN!!!!!

Which proceeded to tart about in the open for at least 40 minutes - albeit at the back of the grass and often ducking down [presumably going after small fish in the little channels there] - to the joy of all present. I was indeed very happy. Bittern is a bugger to get in Devon. Also the most sustained views I'd ever had of one. [These aren't in my actual order of priority, but rules of humour must be obeyed]

Still hadn't found a Wheatear, though...

Mothers' day saw me and Sister taking Canis horribilis salivatus [and her pog, The Rushing Jaws**] out in frisky wind and rain about Cockington. I had outside hopes [as no sane people were out so maybe birds would be] of a partridge or even one of the Legendary Goldies, but of course no dice. Nice groups of finches, buntings, a few singing warblers and Skylarks, though. The Sun even came out - as we were heading back, but still - and the Ramsons were starting up in the woods.

The 21st of March saw me finally find my Wheatears. Yes, plural. I was [and still am] Very Happy.

Next day, I hit t'Moor.

But that [and much Moor] will have to wait for the next thrilling episode of Backward Birding!

[[Ooooh!]]

Be Seeing You... 

[[* Yes, in Plimoth, notoriously a rain-soaked hellhole. Apparently it was horrid everywhere else that day..?!? {And I did drive over through some epic rain, especially Totnus way} I suspect Diabolical Intervention....]]

[[** Yes, that is a reference. Though she is a sweetie, just very energetic. Think the soul of a Springer Spaniel in the body of a Wisht Hound..]] 

...And Another Thing.

The Year So Far, part II.

We start with a nice dip; a Bittern had been tarting about in font of the hide at Bowling Green, and I was all over that. Friday after work and.. Yep. Zip. I stopped off at Cockwood Crossing on my way home in hope of Little Gulls but got nothing. Ok, there were birds, yes, including Spotshank at Bowling Green, but nothing new for the year. This is the way it goes. I think it was raining a bit [shock], it was definitely a lot nippy, and very windy. Yes, I remember the wind.

Next day and it was very frisky at the Nose. There were Little Gulls, though. Lots of them. The sea was in "Ima getchoo an' yer little doggie, too" mood, so much caution was needed. Still, I got great views of at least 6 Little Gulls that were well worth the soaking. Even some photos.!

Five sentences there that really don't do justice to it.

Next day, the frontal system was past and there was a brief [possibly theoretical] window in the bands of rain in which a deranged birder might just Head East, [not so] Young Man, in search of Lifers in a filthy twitching type manner.

You sometimes meet birds with interesting names. Killdeer is one. A north american wader, related to and indeed similar to the familiar Ringed Plover [all US citizens immediately add "Just bigger and brighter and better", naturally...].

Why in the name of Mork's Green Belly would you call a bird 'Killdeer'??? 

Does it? 

Itsa frickin' wader [well, walker], so this hardly seems likely. 

In fact, should you be lucky enough to meet one and unlucky enough to flush it, it will give a call that sounds a lot like "Killdeer". So now you know.

Anyways, one had turned up in Hampshire [the Hampshire Avon, by a farm reservoir] and at last I had one in range. Yep, one of those 'One day I'll see one, one day' birds, this.

I went for it.

The rain on the way up was epic, but I drove through it [noting what was thus coming up behind me...] and after a roadside Little Owl [in Dorset, not Devon, though] not only found the right spot, but there was the bird! On the far side of the reservoir [a big pond at the end of a long but nowhere near as bad as advertised {wimpy saxons, don't know what mud and and puddles are} track], looking into both light and wind. But there it was. Also my first ever Chinese Water Deer [less yay, but still a Mammal Lifer]. Fields full of Egyptian Geese and Red-legged Partridge on the way out, and a detour for 'a' Corn Bunting on the way back. Then a satnav-ordered route to Site B took me right to a White-tailed Eagle menacing local waterbirds!

Site B and the rain was arriving [ok, I'd been showered at the Killdeer] but the Great-tailed Grackle [what a name, what a bird] was not only unfussed by that, but unfussed by us filthy twitchers, gathering around to 'tog it. You could walk right past him and he'd be 'Yeah, whatever dude'. Pictures on here, of course. You may have to scroll a bit.

Site C and my hunt for Bonus Great Grey Shrike was taken out by sheets of rain. Also having to find somewhere to actually sit down and have lunch [I thought the New Forest was all for fancy rich types? Not even a bench to be found?!? Or do they just have their people bring furniture with them?]

Still, it was rather great. 

At this point there was once a long frothing rant piece on what is and isn't a Tickable bird, but I have decided to erase it, not least due to it being stuff I've said before many times. Here are four preserved sentences;

Ship-assisted. One of those terms applied variably; American bird appears on South Coast: 'ship-assisted = bin it', American bird appears on East Coast: 'genuine vagrant = straight into Cat A'. You know I'm right.

Yeah. 

I'll summarise: The scientific method requires consistent methodology.

Ok, getting on with it.

The next day [that is, the day after the Great Yankee Twitch], I managed to stagger down to the Harbour, where I saw a GND, a BHG, 2 Moorhens, and 6 Mute Swans. Ah, the Patch, you can't beat it. 😁

Some work happened and we reach the end of January. [Yes, all this and we're not even into month two...]

Caspian Gulls had been tarting about in front of all and sundry at Brixham Outer Harbour and as I a) needed it for the year and b) had never got an even vaguely good photo of one, decided that I needed to c) it. [[Groan]]

It was a little nippy and a lot threatening to rain on us [the assorted birders who turned up] but the [well, 'a', as there have been maybe a half dozen of them popping in and out] Caspian Gull appeared and struck poses for us. A Black-throated Diver then - in a very out-of-personality action - showed right up to point-blank range. It was all quite good and even better to be shared with one of the Hope's Nose Irregulars.

 

The next day, the Patch did its best to keep up, with a [very good for modern times] glorious 17 Purple Sandpipers on Haldon Pier, with 12 Turnstone.

 

The weekend ended with an amble with the Folks about a wood near Dartmoor, where Lesser Spotted Woodpecker made an unexpected appearance, to my delight [though a little tempered, as would she let me photo her? Would she BLE-]

A couple of holiday days to use saw me out again the next day, defying the rain, about the east side of Dartmoor. Most interesting birds were 18 Redwing near Hound Tor.

 

More birdy the next day with a more determined attempt to find some yearticks. Failure at Arch Brook was followed by getting absolutely blatted on at the LORP - discovering in the process that the new trollies I'd bought as 'waterproof' were anything but.. [[buy chinese, get conned, duh]] - but that was very much counteracted by the sight of not only a rather damp Hare but also two Spoonbill [right up the top, invisible from the road, the fiends]. As I headed back, a Spotted Redshank showed quite ridiculously close. And the Sun came out. Joy.

I then failed for various other things on my much drier way home. But hey, that's birding. 

Also birding, the next weekend I went for an amble up on t'Moor [defying the weather. Because]. I spent far too long cowering from said rain, but once it gave up [That saying about poor weather vs poor equipment may apply..] I was overflown by a massive [190+ is massive] flock of winter thrushes - all of those calling were Fieldfare - and a smaller flock of Golden Plover, before being dashed-by by a Merlin [WOOO!!] which was much better than nothing. A couple of hours wedged against an outcrop under a brolly was definitely worthwhile!

Another week passed by and it was time for some more determined yearlisting. Saltram is a bit of a trip and so usually I only go there when either twitching rarities or chasing yearticks. [Something about a 'definitely as wild as they get in this country' duck, maybe?] This is a bit of a shame, as it's a rather lovely place [allowing for the hordes, assorted] with reasonable for the times parking, actual loos, and a NT shop [what?]. A good variety of birding in the immediate area with a not bad by Patch standards hill the only impediment. What's not to like? AND South Efford Marsh just over the river [and the road, and another hill, this one a bit toothier]. Worth a visit.

Ahem.

I approached with a little trepidation as I'd heard the female Red-crested Pochard [definitely wild, shut up] had become mobile and elusive along the river. An interesting wild duck chase was on the cards.

Or not, as she was sat on the island in the duck pond by the gift shop.

But there were no Mandarin. At all. [Look down [long way...] for past views of these 'almost touching distance' birds in years past]

Asking the nice NT people, apparently due to bird flu they're no longer feeding the birds, or letting the public do it, either. Bugger.

Oh well.

Ring-necked Parakeets are much-hated birds, but they are also quite pretty and sound better than Jays. I actually got a photo of a blue morph, too. Result.

 

Some goons had flushed everything off Blaxton Meadow while surveying [apparently there are 'plans'....] so I headed off in the very warm sunshine to find the way to Efford Marsh. This proved a little interesting; very much an 'easy when you know how'. Two Kingfishers flew along the Plym, three Goosanders dived in it. The Marsh itself - mostly woods and grassy bits, with dampness one little edge - did indeed contain one or maybe two lightly vocal and moderately showy Siberian Chiffchaffs, a Yellow-browed Warbler [feeling more vocal but less showy] and a horde of regular-flavour Chiffchaffs. Once I'd got there, it was rather lovely, even with all the mud. Three GSWs in one tree at one point being a first for me, if only I'd been able to get a pic! [Ah, the story of my birding life...]

Back to Saltram and a Barwit had appeared on a now goon-less Blaxton, which was nice to see at close-ish range. No Mandarins at all, but never mind, they are around and I'll find some. I've got my main targets, seen some nice bonuses, so Home before the Rush kicks off!

Now, this was only the first of four days' fun - Nights having their uses - but I think I need to insert another gap here, and put something more out. We shall have to wait with baited breath to see what else I got up to then, let alone later.

Oh, the suspenders.... 

Be Seeing You...

Edited Mutter

To make an amendment.

 

I then on Monday did see a sexy bird.

To whit, a lovely male Wheatear at Hope's Nose.

No Sandwich Tern, though. [Arg, not a tern or skua or shear by the end of March... For shame]

There were lots of nice bees, though.

Bee Seeing You...

Mutter Mutter Mutter

So the yearly switch to Bloody Stupid Time has vexed me as per.

I am still working on the latest section of my far too long update thing.

I haven't seen any sexy birds this week.

Mutter mutter mutter... 

Be Seeing You...

Dateup

I am still working on the next far too long wall of text update post. Albeit in widely-spaced bursts.

Very widely-spaced bursts. 

But I am making progress.

Unlike in my mission to Start Spring by seeing a freaking Wheatear on Patch [or at all, for that matter].

 

It's been seven goes, now. 

I saw my first Swallow of the year today - flew across the road on my way to work [going W or thereabouts. The Swallow, not me.] - and have also seen Sand Martins, but no Wheatear, so it is still WINTER. This is Official.

 

I don't care about all the sunshine and flowers and things. 

Be Seeing You...

Speaking Of.

After writing that post last night, I happened to notice that rarest of things; clear skies!

 

Spurred into action, I dragged my li'l old reflector telescope outside and managed to see Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter - and all four Galilean moons!! -, Mars, and Venus. Score.

Saturn and Venus weren't in great position, but Jupiter was on fine form [and I've not had all four Jovians for a while, I can tell you] and getting Neptune at all [and at the same time as Uranus] was very nice. Uranus found first and by pure fluke, I just landed on it. I am - as you may guess from my name - very old-fashioned in my astronomy and don't even have a sight [yes, even cable ties are too much for me....], let alone a computer-controlled aiming mechanism, so getting on stuff is not easy. Though it does make succeeding much more satisfying.

Today I tried the Nose after work, hoping East winds and the fact they've started arriving would get me a Wheatear. They did not. I barely saw anything, it was so foggy.!

Oh well.

We persevere.

Be Seeing You...

Observation.

I wrote that, didn't I? "Definitely this month"

It's not irony if it's certainty.

Anyways, I am working on my next wall of text post and it will be with you directly.

Be Seeing You...

[[P.S. I have done a seawatch. My first since the day before I broke myself {the, er, first time; it got a bit cumulative} and it was - despite iffy weather and poor duration, oh and no shearwaters  - wonderful to be back. This will be in that post. Whenever you see it. If you haven't fallen asleep by that bit.]]