Skip to main content

Update 3/3- Minsmere.

Driving along the track to Minsmere, I was reminded of how much excellent and often impenetrable habitat there is here. Upon arrival, hearing a Bee Eater had been seen on the reserve, I remarked to mum that it would most likely have worked its way inland by now. Thankfully, I was wrong. The bird remains present today, and we both managed distant views of this most exotically dressed of migrants as it hunted for bugs over the woods. Within minutes of seeing this bird from East Hide, I picked up an interesting looking Buzzard over Westleton. A prolonged look and this turned out to be one of the Honey Buzzards in the area, drooping wings and more pronounced tail giving it away. With 2 excellent birds in the bag, a look over the scrape revealed a Little Gull and a few Ruff.

Minsmere being what it is, more was in store. A female Adder almost crossed our path as we walked amongst the dunes, the first time I have seen one of these for at least 2 years. A couple of Wheatear whizzed about in the dunes, photographers desperately trying to get that shot. The sluice bushes were quiet, so we walked up to the chapel ruins. Chapel Pool was excellent for Waders, although in almost blinding light it was difficult to pin down all of them. Curlew Sandpiper, Redshank, Dunlin and a probable Little Stint were on the pool, and the latter had been reported from there so this was likely to have been the tiny scampering silhouette we saw. Elsewhere, a couple of Knot were seen from South Hide.

After a traditional for Minsmere jacket potato lunch, we headed to Sizewell. Perhaps something regarding the warm outflow here has changed, for there were no Terns hunting around the platforms. Over the power station, a juvenile Peregrine was flexing its muscles. An excellent day out.




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 ...