Skip to main content

Success in The Brecks?! 09/04/11

A later start than preferred due to an appointment with the doctor meant chances of a Lesser Pecker at Santon Downham were always going to be slim. It was a cracking morning however, plenty of birdsong including Blackcap, Nuthatch, Marsh Tit, Siskin and other woodland residents. In terms of target species, a possible Willow Tit was all we managed, and a brief view of Whitlingham's finest. We had lunch in the sun and headed off to try somewhere different, which in typical brecks fashion shall remain a location 'somewhere in the forest'.
Things really picked up here, beginning with the butterlies on the wing. Holly Blue, Orange Tip, Brimstone, Peacock, Tortoiseshell and Comma were all enjoying the 20 degree plus heat. As were 2 Common Lizards!
2 Woodlark sang from separate clearings, a beautiful song with a real liquid quality I never tire of. Best of all, excellent views of 3+ Goshawk including one bird that flew over head allowing a closer than usual look at the plumage of this enigmatic species.
A familiar call alerted us to the presence of a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, which gave a brief view before flying off. Other bits and bobs included A Buzzard carrying a large twig, Kestrel, GS and Green Woodpeckers and a local walker told us a Redstart had been seen earlier in the morning.
So a relatively straightforward and rewarding afternoon, helped in no small part by my uncle and little cousin who joined me for the day. I would back him to find a first for Britain one day; he beat me to a Goshawk shout on more than one occasion!
Debs and I leave for Estonia on Monday, so depending on net access this may be it for a while. But I bet you can't wait for those gripping photos of Steller's Eider, Pygmy Owl and Great Snipe. We can't!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Everything is about edge

Hardley, where it is often confusing to define where the garden ends and the marsh begins. Tumble-down houses and rickety shacks, away from any bus route and Team Sky sorts wrapped in lycra, this is a village that by choice is cut off. The secret is out, and pre-storm Ciara as many as 10 large lenses littered the river bank firing at will. Their target- Winter ghosts. First, the classic Scooby-Doo type, as a Barn Owl responds to an ill-advised squeak in the grass and heads towards the onlookers. Another quickly joins the hunt, their formation a picture of double-edged stealth. But these year-round residents are not the key objective today, that honour is given to the Short-eared Owl. 3/4 of these can be seen from the staithe at the minute, floating like giant moths over the tussocks and edges.  In a recent article in The New Yorker, Jake Fiennes states "Everything is about edge". Hedges, ditches, scrub, forgotten tracts of land that link nothing and no-one. Fiennes, now ...

Grey Phalarope- a new patch bird

The 7th of April was another bitterly cold Spring day, hats and gloves in prime position on pegs and in bags ready to be deployed. A few brave Garganey have been reported north of the river, but it was a bird from the north itself that had me rushing for the thermals and the telescope late in the day.  I was thankful for the local Whatsapp group who were quick to report that a Grey Phalarope had been seen on Rockland Broad. This tiny Wader would have come in on the northerlies over the last few days, although to grace one of the broads is a real surprise, since most stick pretty close to the coast before moving on. Indeed, my experience of the birds has usually been on a sea watch in the Autumn, waves crashing and foam flying, my eyes straining to pick them out as they fly low just above the surf. They are fantastic birds, and now one was here on the patch. I had a brief panic when I realised my scope was in my car at the garage (thankfully I do have a much older spare) but once th...

Claxton-on-sea!

 Although it was not quite the Christmas we wanted here in the valley, the rain has bought its own gift. A grim vision of the future, perhaps. But right now, the patch is peaking and is alive with birds, and for that I am thankful. On Christmas eve, it was a job to navigate away from the village due to standing water that had left abandoned cars and undelivered presents in its wake. The rain had been persistent and unforgiving, the ground, saturated. Over on the marsh, where there had once been a muddy puddle amongst the pasture, a city had sprung from the leak, with a plethora of new occupants noisily laying claim to a patch of sodden marsh. Wigeon and Black-headed Gulls in their thousands now wheeled and whistled over and amongst the newly formed pools, accompanied by smaller numbers of Teal and Shoveler. A flock of two hundred-strong Lapwing enjoyed feeding on the less damp spots where green grass was still exposed, and thrown in for good measure have been a couple of Ruff, the ...