An unusually warm Bank Holiday weekend

Our small garden was a hive of activity yesterday, 2 Holly Blue butterflies the diurnal highlight along with various White sp. passing through. That evening, 2 Pipistrelle Bats were hunting at rooftop level.
The bulk of our day was spent at Cley, enjoying an excellent crab salad at Cookies after a short walk around the reserve. Avocets were noisily about their business, and 2 Little-ringed Plover were also on the scrape keeping their distance. A Lesser Whitethroat was heard along Old Woman's Lane, and the expected Marsh Harriers were soaring over the reedbed. Unexpectedly, a group of c30 Brent Geese dropped in to graze. Surely the latest into the breeding season I have seen this species in Norfolk.

Today, the temperature cranked up another couple of degrees to 19, I enjoyed a stroll round Wheatfen. For once, I didn't have the reserve to myself. A Cuckoo was heard and was subsequently new for the year. Whitethroat were everywhere, as were Reed, Sedge and Cetti's Warblers. Speckled Wood and Orange Tip were on the wing, the first time I have caught up with either of these species this year. I stumbled upon the tail end of at least 4 snakes, probably Grass, but they were too quick for me, disappearing into the reedbed on each occasion. I spent some time scanning the skies over Strumpshaw, for 2 Common Crane had been reported earlier in the day. No luck on that front, but I did pick out a kettle of 5 Buzzards and the resident Marsh Harriers.
Rockland Broad, and another Cuckoo was heard. A Garden Warbler, new for the year, shared a piece of scrub with the more obvious Whitethroats. Best birds were undoubtedly 2 Common Tern, fishing the broad itself and engaging in a bit of chase. Perhaps they will make use of one of the platforms and breed this year.

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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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