The Patch gets a look in after all

After a frenetic Saturday's birding, I felt justifiably guilty having not been to Surlingham for over 2 weeks. I therefore made an early start on Sunday and began at Langley, the sun still low in the sky making for a beautiful morning.
Plenty of Geese over the river at Buckenham, some of these possibly the reported returning White-fronts and Beans. Underneath a gathering of Cormorants was a male Peregrine, perched and ready. There seemed to be plenty of birds about today and I was picking up Bullfinch, Pied Wagtail and Green Sandpiper overhead.
Onto Surlingham, and although the lagoon now appears devoid of quality for the Winter (the Teal are looking smart, though) the rest of the reserve is really showing its colours. The churchyard was an epicentre of activity, with a roving Tit flock that comprised at least 5 Goldcrest (no fire, yet) Marsh, Coal and Long-tailed Tit. Still by the church, a Brambling wheezed unseen, my first of the year here amazingly! Elsewhere, Redpoll passed overhead calling as did more Bullfinch. A flock of 90 Lapwing over at Wood's End was my highest patch count, get in!
After a highly recommended roast lunch at The Marsham Arms, Debs and I headed into The Broads in search of Cranes and Raptors, our first such trip of the Winter (?) period. Debs was on fire, picking up a group of 3 Cranes close to the car as we passed through a likely spot, and more distantly 16+ fly away from us. We did manage a single Barn Owl, Marsh Harrier and a Short-eared Owl (the latter in darkness as we drove home) but nothing quite on the scale of last Winter. Still, early days yet and without a severe frost the usual suspects are yet to move. Plus, it was such a clear evening I would expect Owls to emerge later and hunt throughout the night.

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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 ...

Notes from the valley

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