Thursday, 16 January 2020

The First (Norfolk) Twitch of the Year, 3rd January 2020

We started the new decade off with some relaxed birding on New Year's Day at our two best known local sites, the morning being spent at Otmoor and then the afternoon at Farmoor. After deciding that we would give year listing a miss in 2020 our opening day list still amounted to 66 birds seen, which interestingly beat our first day total of 2019 by over 20! The best birds were the apparently wintering Slavonian grebe and Greater Scaups at Farmoor while conversely on Otmoor neither of the ringtail Hen Harriers, the Peregrine or Bitterns put in an appearance. It was a grey old day to start the year so I hardly took a photo!

The next day in an effort to secure a couple of Gull species that had eluded us the previous year we drove the hour or so to the Rugby area and to Shawell refuse tip to be precise. A juvenile Glaucous Gull plus a few Caspian Gulls had been reported there over the past few weeks but first I had to find a spot to view the tip. When I did find a suitable viewing position, around half a mile from the active part of the dump, the number of Gulls on offer was overwhelming since there were thousand's! I tried hard for half an hour to pick out the Glaucous Gull with no success, admittedly I was well out of my depth because I am far from being a Gull expert, so I agreed with Mrs Caley that we'd be better off elsewhere. Draycote Water is just a few miles away so we headed there, knowing that a juvenile Great Northern Diver had been seen frequently at the end of last year and had been reported already that morning. We added Great Northern Diver to our year list quickly last year with a fabulous bird on the River Thames near Pangbourne and almost the first bird we spotted at Draycote, surprisingly our first ever visit to the reservoir, was the Diver. After quickly getting Mrs Caley on to the bird, the Diver then astonishingly, as if by magic, just disappeared. We couldn't find it despite seeing it at fairly close quarters as we arrived. Divers of all species can stay submerged for a long time and are incredibly powerful swimmers while under water so I guess that that it had managed to swim so far from its original position that we just failed to look in the right place when it resurfaced. We took a walk along the Farborough bank and noted some nice Goldeneyes amongst other more common Ducks. 

Goldeneye male (left) & Tufted Duck males
Right at the far end of the reservoir we found the group of three Greater Scaups, which were all dozing with heads tucked into their back feathers. It took what seemed like ages before a Black-headed Gull managed to rouse the first winter female Scaup and even longer before the two first-winter males abandoned their own slumbers. 

Greater Scaup, 1st-winter female (centre) & 2 1st-winter males
We made for the visitor centre expectant of a nice warming cup of coffee but the cafe was so busy with hordes of noisy and unruly children running amok that I soon gave it up and returned to the chilly reservoir to look for the Great Northern Diver again which we found easily this time but now it was much further out than before. As if to appease us, the Diver at that moment decided to have a stretch of its wings and perform some "aqua ballet" which at least enabled me to get a few nice record shots.

Great Northern Diver
A trip to "twitch" a Great Grey Shrike was suggested but there are others of those around to consider and they'll stay well into the year so instead we drove to the outskirts of Nuneaton to see a drake Ferruginous Duck which was supposedly showing well right by the roadside dam. Seeswood Pool was where we saw a Night Heron a few years ago, a bird that took me nearly two hours to locate, secreted as it was in a tree right at the far end of the pool. I found the Fudge Duck much more quickly but it was also right at the far end and not right in front of our noses as I'd hoped. In the first two days, without trying too hard, we had seen 70 species. Last year it took us until the 22nd of January to get to that number. But I am definitely not year listing, just making a note of what we see.

With just a few days left before I had to return to work, we planned a trip out for the Friday. A long desired addition to our life list, a Desert Wheatear, had been discovered next to the sea in North-east Norfolk on New Year's Day. It had stayed put the next day too so we decided that the long drive to see it just had to be done. When we arrived at the car park the weather was far from pleasant with a fine drizzle being blown in from the sea by a fairly brisk breeze. The bird was supposedly to be seen feeding on the concrete sea defences that had been constructed to save the dune system and the settlement of Eccles-on-sea from the ravages of the North Sea which was rapidly eroding parts of the unprotected coastline a few miles to the North at Happisburgh. A returning birder told us that the Wheatear had been showing well so at least we knew that we'd soon be seeing it which made the walk to where it should be a little less uncomfortable since the rain had gotten heavier since we started out and the wind had increased in ferocity too. When we reached the end of the sea wall there was no sign of any other birders, we were alone on this one, and no sign of the bird either. Not that we could see very far in the unrelenting horrible conditions. The weather had been forecast to be fair by ten o'clock so the meteorologists had clearly been drinking too much sherry over the Christmas break. The weather had deteriorated and not improved. We half-heartedly looked for the Desert Wheatear, certain that it would still be around but also equally sure that it was probably sheltering from the distinctly un-desert like weather. We took shelter behind a set of steps that led up and over the sea wall and were joined firstly by a sole Turnstone, which was totally disinterested in us and sauntered past at a distance of just a few feet, and then by another desperate chap who had, obviously, come for the Wheatear. When the rain eased slightly I peered up at the sea wall and there, thankfully, about fifty metres away was the Desert Wheatear feeding very inconspicuously amongst the weedy grasses that have managed to grow up in the cracks between the sea walls concrete panels. I hadn't bothered to get my camera out to photograph the Turnstone but I had to gain at least a record shot of the Wheatear. 

Desert Wheatear
As previously stated, I've long awaited to see a Desert Wheatear, but now as we stood in the murk getting ever more drenched, this particular twitch seemed like a bit of an anticlimax and far from fun. The bird was as bedraggled as we were and that fabulous sandy and black plumage didn't appear as striking as I expected. The bird looked very disconsolate as it pecked away at the base of the tussocks and stood still for a few minutes at a time before darting off to the next grassy clump. It was tricky to observe at first, obscured as it was by the grass, but it was slowly approaching us and our views improved with every dart forward that the bird made.

We were joined by Britains best known twitcher and a few others and thankfully the rain abated a little allowing me to worry less about my camera getting damp. The Desert Wheatear was now just twenty or so metres away and still approaching our position at the top of the steps. After the inclement weather so far, the improved light meant that I was now able to add some reasonable images of the latest addition to my life list. For some reason I have never totalled up my UK life list but have an idea that it isn't particularly impressive when compared with more hardened birders and with those who visit Shetland or Scilly on a regular basis. I certainly won't yet have achieved the landmark of 400 species but must be getting closer to that significant number. The top UK lister has 605 on his life list which I find incredible. One of Oxon's finest is nearly at 550! There isn't enough time left, or funds, in my own life to get anywhere near those numbers.

The Desert Wheatear suddenly took flight and disappeared over the sea wall and inland presumably to spend some time sheltering in the adjacent and private caravan park. It was gone for around twenty minutes before being found again a little further down the sea wall. The sea wall is punctuated by a series of steps which give access to the houses behind and we now strode off to the next set to get more views of the Wheatear. 

The Sea Wall and Steps. The Desert Wheatear fed along the top of the wall.
In the windy conditions the bird seemed even more reluctant to venture out of cover now and didn't come within reach so I left Mrs Caley with the scope while I walked along the wall to get a closer view. The snag now was that the bird was on top of the sea wall and that was around six feet high. So I couldn't purchase enough height to be able to get direct photos. The beach was even lower but by backing off you could at least see the bird but the trade off, of course, was that the Wheatear was further away. I took just a few frames before the Desert Wheatear flew off again.

I rejoined Mrs Caley at the steps and suggested that maybe we should head off for a coffee, I'd spotted a cafe right by the carpark, but she nudged me to look along the sea wall once more and there working its way towards us was the Desert Wheatear. We were the only folk still present and I thought that this would be our big chance to get unrivalled views. If we kept quiet and still, the Wheatear would walk right up to us. Just as the bird was coming into prime range for photos another birder appeared at the top of the steps and loudly inquired "where is it then?". Unsurprisingly the Wheatear took flight at that and was away over the dunes again. Why do some folk struggle so much with basic fieldcraft?

Unwilling to spend any time with the loudmouth, who had severely tested my New Year's resolution to stay calm, upbeat and nice to people, I decided that time was up and we needed that coffee. The soaking that we'd endured had left us less keen to go looking for any other birds, we are not going mad building a year list remember, so apart from stopping to see a group of Common Cranes at long range in a field next to the route home, three of which obligingly flew around bugling loudly, we left Norfolk early and arrived back home before dark.

Common Crane
The following morning, after doing the weekly shop, we pondered what we could do for the rest of the day. Determined that we wouldn't year list and to only seek new or interesting birds we resisted the temptation to return to Whipsnade Zoo to re-twitch the Black-throated Thrush seen just before Christmas and decided to look for other birds instead. With the back to work day fast approaching, I wanted one last trip out, so settled on seeing some Hawfinches, a bird that we hadn't had a decent view of for a couple of years, that had reportedly been showing well at a site in Nottinghamshire. Thoresby Park forms part of the Sherwood Forest national nature reserve and we had visited the area in June to look for Honey Buzzards at a well known watchpoint nearby. We had coincidentally looked for some Hawfinches on that day as well without success but apparently the ones on offer now were very obliging since they were to be seen feeding on Mistletoe berries right next to a road on the edge of the Thoresby estate. We also had an excuse to stop at the Fables Cafe in nearby Edwinstowe which serves one of the best bacon sandwiches that I've ever eaten outside of my own kitchen. 

We parked up in a gateway, joining a handful of other hopeful birders, and saw the Mistletoe bearing trees just fifty metres or so away. Asking around confirmed that Hawfinches had been seen that morning but in trees right at the far side of the field opposite. For the next hour and a half I studied every tree within half a mile but only came up with more common species. Then Mrs Caley beat me to it and spotted a couple of our largest Finches in those furthest trees but they flew off within seconds. It was then another forty minutes or so before I spied another trio in the same trees. The Hawfinches were perching in the spindly branches above some Yew trees. After a few minutes they dropped down into the Yews and disappeared. Another five, or maybe the same plus a couple of others, Hawfinches appeared in the same trees and after a few minutes descended into the Yews. It was clear that the distant views was as good as it was going to get so we settled for what we'd got and made plans to look for Hawfinches somewhere else during the winter.

Rutland Water was only a slight detour off of our route home and we made it there about an hour before sunset. We quickly found the Red-necked Grebe in the South Arm of the Old Hall path, a bird that had taken us three attempts to see last year, and then drove the short distance to Eyebrook Reservoir, where after a frantic half hour of searching in the near dark, I managed to find a couple of the handsome drake Smew's as well as four of the less eye-catching females. Both the Grebe and the Smew were late additions to our year list in 2019 so it was good to get them in the bag early this year.  Our year list had progressed to #81.

Monday, 13 January 2020

The Last (Norfolk) Twitch of the Year, 29th December 2019

The Christmas holiday season carries a double-edged sword for me. By the end of it after an "enforced" two week lay off, honestly nobody wants me in their houses over Christmas (or any other time really), I'll be skint but on the up side there's lots of time for Mrs Caley and myself to go birding!  The Old Caley year list had stagnated somewhat in the run up to Christmas, we'd run out of steam a bit and I had been very busy at work, with the most recent addition two weeks ago with the Black-throated Thrush at Whipsnade Zoo. But now we had time to twitch again and the great thing about the holiday period is that the roads are pretty much devoid of traffic, in the mornings anyway, so driving long distances is easy. I'd been looking with interest at reports of an Eastern Yellow Wagtail that had been seen near Newcastle upon Tyne and was making plans to take the 500 mile round journey to see it when another Eastern Yellow Wagtail had been found much closer to home in North-west Norfolk. The Norfolk bird was discovered just before Christmas and had appeared very settled over the next few days. 

The Eastern Yellow Wagtail at Sedgeford, near Sandringham, had the added attraction of being a fine adult male rather than the more frequently found juvenile and first winter birds, so was a bit of a looker! We arrived at the twitch site just after nine o'clock and joined the twenty or so cars parked by a farm track. Birders were already returning along the track and the news was positive, the bird was there and showing nicely. We geared up and followed the track for 400 metres to a small hardstanding where the local farmer had deposited manure and other soil into piles. The Wagtail apparently favoured these dung heaps proving yet agin that birds are quite happy to be seen in very insalubrious surroundings. Luckily the soil heaps were just that really, mostly soil rather than manure so didn't stink, which was just a swell since the stinging and cold wind was right into our faces. The weak winter sunshine also shone straight at us but offered little warmth and certainly wouldn't help much when photographing the Wagtail.

Despite several fellow observers that we met on the way relating that the Wagtail was showing well, when we arrived at the site most viewers were chatting away in groups and seemed disinterested in any goings on at the soil heaps. This usually means that the target bird is not showing so I assumed that the Wagtail had maybe flown off for a while. I was surprised then when I scanned around the area and almost immediately found the Wagtail preening in long grass at the back of the soil heaps. Before I could get Mrs Caley onto the bird though it had scarpered behind the middle heap, a recurring theme it would seem at twitches these days, my wife would have to wait a little longer for her first view of the bird. It took about fifteen minutes but the Wagtail did reappear sauntering between two of the soil piles and Mrs Caley had her view. Now we'd both seen it, the Eastern Yellow Wagtail (aka Alaskan Yellow Wagtail) made it #289 on the Old Caley year list and would most likely be the last addition for 2019. Not quite 300 as we'd begun hoping for a few months back but easily our best year total ever, beating our previous best by over 40. If we hadn't have had a few difficult personal circumstances to deal with at times during the year then we may have just about made the magic number but, hey, that's life. We've already vowed not to chase another big year list in 2020 and will concentrate on quality, in the form of new life ticks, rather than quantity.

The Alaskan Yellow Wagtail moniker comes courtesy of Dutch birders who named one, that was found in The Netherlands recently, that way. Most birders here seem to prefer Eastern Yellow Wagtail but apparently that is a blanket name for the whole species and since this male has been assigned to distinct subspecies level, namely "Motacilla tschutschensis tschutschensis" which breeds in Alaska as well as north-western regions of Siberia, the Alaskan prefix has been added. The bird itself has a striking blue-grey head with a prominent white supercilium and white half crescent beneath the eye. The upper parts are predominately an olive-brown colour with white-edged wing feathers while the under parts are mainly pale yellow with a few spots of brighter yellow. The bill is black based with a pinkish tip and the legs are blackish grey. The bird was walking towards us so I started to gain a few record shots for this blog.

However we were in luck when the Wagtail, after being harassed by a Pied Wagtail, suddenly flew up and over our heads, circled around and landed on the concrete hardstanding just ten or so metres away. Mine and a few others cameras went into overdrive as the Wagtail stood motionless and gazed around, making sure that its tormentor was out of the way.

Next the Wagtail trotted over to a weedy area and commenced feeding, pecking away at the rough grasses. Several times we saw it secure a small worm or grub but mostly the bird was hard to observe in the vegetation.

The Eastern Yellow Wagtail then delighted its admirers once more by flitting up close and feeding along the edge of a muddy puddle. In the days leading up to our visit I had seen many photos of the Wagtail but none had been really show-stopping since the bird had always appeared to have remained on the soil heaps at the far side of the yard and had clearly not come as close as it was now. We had great views this morning and the only factor counting against us was the greyness of the day, although the sun was threatening to put in an appearance which it needed to because it was more than a little bit chilly!

An arrival of a small flock of Chaffinches put paid to our fun since the Wagtail was spooked and flew into the long grass behind the soil heaps again. The forty or so twitchers present all at one broke into excited chatter in contrast to the quiet, camera shutters excepted, of previously. Now there was a lull Mrs Caley and myself discussed plans for the remainder of the day and whether to stay much longer for more of the Eastern Yellow Wagtail which was clearly still present and just out of view. We decided on another half hour and then we would go and spend the afternoon watching Short-eared Owls at a site in Cambridgeshire where the Owls are supposed to show well. 

Staying a bit longer turned out to be a good decision when a few minutes later the Wagtail returned to the concrete apron right in front of us again. The light had improved too so now there was opportunity to get even better shots. After perusing its surroundings once more Mr Wagtail this time moved on to one of the muddy puddles to feed and then obligingly posed on a small branch and then a rock. I even grabbed a few, blurry admittedly, flight images. It really was performing like a model at a photo shoot giving myself and the rest the full gamut of poses. I do like birds that help you out by being so accommodating.

Finished with the puddle the Wagtail then delighted us even more by walking almost right up to us and the views and photos improved to "crippling" quality. This must have been unprecedented behaviour by this bird and even low shutter speeds couldn't stop even me getting some nice shots. I was still surprised though, and chuffed of course, when Birdguides rewarded one of my efforts with a "Notable Photo" award, shown at the top of this account.

When the Wagtail fled back behind the heaps of soil, we did decide to leave for some birding elsewhere. We had been on site for maybe an hour and a half and it wouldn't get any better, it couldn't. Walking back to the car we were beckoned by a chap who introduced himself as a fellow Oxon birder, well met Karl, who had seen us at Otmoor a few weeks back. He was staying in Norfolk for the holiday season and told us, amongst other bird news, that the Rough-legged Buzzard at Wells had been showing really well and close the day before. Our views a few weeks ago, when we'd taken it in along with the Isabelline Wheatear and Hume's Warblers, had been distant across a field and the Buzzard hadn't budged from its perch in a bush. To see it flying close to would be a nice bonus. We had only seen our first ever Rough-legged Buzzard in January this year and although we did get flight views they were from around a mile away! I checked Wells into the SatNav and discovered it was only 16 miles away so it became a no-brainer to go and have another look. The Shorties would have to wait until next year.

We parked up and joined a few other birders in the lay-by that overlooks the field but there was no sign of the Rough-legged Buzzard. Toby, a young and excellent birder who we've met several times at Frampton Marsh where he spent last summer, told us that the Rough-legged hadn't shown at all that morning and that there were just Common Buzzards and a Marsh Harrier active. Fairly typical, I thought, since we had hoped that after talking to Karl that it would be a cinch! But Toby was thanking us for turning up less than two minutes later when the Rough-legged Buzzard suddenly appeared and landed in the middle of the field. Voila! Unfortunately, and despite Mrs Caley continually and very helpfully pointing out the Rough-legged's position in the field, by the time I had managed to get the camera cocked and ready to fire the bird had flown off and back to its favourite bush on the embankment which meant that we were left with same old distant views that we'd had a few weeks before. 

Last time the Rough-legged Buzzard had resolutely refused to leave the said bush despite much billing and cooing from me and for the next half hour this time it stayed put once again. Then it flew into the branches of a tree where it was very difficult to see and pick out. I managed one distant, slightly better than useless shot, as it flew off.

Another half hour passed without the Rough-legged Buzzard moving from the tree so we gave up. I was just pulling away in the car when a tap at the window stopped, another birder telling me that the Rough-legged was flying again. Phew, nearly missed it! 

Now the raptor was actively hunting giving us nice flight views through the optics but not close views since the bird was hunting along its favoured embankment at the far side of the field. If I'd been ready earlier then I'd have caught some half decent shots of the Buzzard flying in front of us at half the distance it was now. But at least I did mange to add a few flight images to my pitiful Rough-legged Buzzard collection and they were a vast improvement on the ones that I managed back in January. More to the point it was enjoyable to witness a spectacular and unfamiliar bird of prey perform the whole spectrum of hunting techniques with much hovering interspersing the more normal gliding and soaring. Rough-legged Buzzards are well known for spending much of their air time hovering in Kestrel like fashion. 

This would prove to be our last trip outside of our local area in 2019 and the Eastern Yellow Wagtail was our final life and year tick as well. We ended up on the #289 species for the year, #285 if you disallow a few of the ducks and stuff. Not a bad effort and, I repeat, not one that we'll be trying to beat in 2020........

Thursday, 2 January 2020

Otmoor at its "Raptorous" best, 24th December 2019

Christmas Eve is one of the best days of the year to go birding. Reserves are largely ignored by other birders who in keeping with the rest of the country are busy getting ready for the big day tomorrow and probably clogging up the supermarket aisles along with just about everybody else. Mrs Caley and I are savvy and have done the food shop already. I can recall, when on holiday in Suffolk one Christmas, how we had Minsmere almost entirely to ourselves, save for just a couple of other birders, for the entire day on Christmas Eve and how delightful that was. A couple of days later it was mayhem with hundreds, probably thousands of other folk cramming the hides and pathways.

We had set out early aiming to witness the Starling flock leave the reedbed in the semi-darkness of the morning. In truth we had left it maybe five or ten minutes too late since, as we walked along the bridleway peering into the murk on Greenaways, we startled at the sound of thousands of pairs of fluttering wings as a large percentage of the Starlings passed low overhead on their way out for the day. The Otmoor Starling roost contains up to 50,000 birds and the murmurations can be impressive but many visitors are attracted to the spectacle nowadays which sadly leads to serious parking issues in the carpark and in the lane leading down to the reserve so we never visit in the afternoon in winter anymore.

The day was slow to get light, sunrise wouldn't be for another half hour yet so there was little to see as we walked towards the first screen although there was plenty to listen to as the birds became active. Cetti's Warblers, Water Rails and a multitude of other birds were all calling unseen in the hedges and ditches. We took our place at the empty screen and looked out over the lagoon and reedbeds. We could make out a few Tufted Ducks and Pochards asleep on the water and the shape of some Common Snipe stood on a small island. We were hoping to see a star bird that had been gracing the reserve for the past few weeks but which we had yet to see and knew that most sightings were either early or late in the day.

For the time being though we marvelled at the massive flocks of Golden Plover and Lapwing that filled the skies all around us. There must be 10,000 of these birds wintering on the reserve taking advantage of the flooded fields where food must be bountiful. The flocks continually whirled around in every direction presumably because they were reacting to danger somewhere. As yet though we couldn't see the cause of the consternation but out there would hopefully be the bird we sought which would be very interested in taking a stray or weak Plover for its breakfast.

A raptor flew in from the right hand side but it was just a Red Kite, a very common bird around Oxfordshire these days and indeed we see lots over our house every day. Amazing to think that we had to travel to West Wales when we first started birding in earnest at the end of the last century to see our first Red Kites. It was light now but it was one of those grey starts to the day which would make gaining good photographs difficult. There was also the promise of some precipitation later in the day but only after a few sunlit hours which we eagerly looked forward to. Then another bird of prey entered from the right and this time, by its measured flight low over the reeds, it was clear that it was a Harrier. But which one? We see Marsh Harriers, another conservation success story, at Otmoor all year round but our target bird is altogether less frequently spotted here. The Harrier was close enough now for us to see the telltale white rump patch, known as a ringtail, which indicated that this bird was one of the treasured Hen Harriers that we had wished for. The Hen Harrier, a first winter bird, quartered low over the reeds to the right of the hide where a couple of bushes frustratingly obscure the view but soon returned to hunt over the reeds at the far end of the lagoon in front of us. Then, luckily, it chose to visit the other side of the viewpoint and came much closer to us. To use the Toggers most favourite excuse, the light was awful but I popped a few frames off anyway. I've never managed to get a really good photo of a Hen Harrier, or any Harrier come to think of it, even after spending a fortnight surrounded by them on Uist a couple of years ago and that situation wouldn't change unless the sun put in an earlier than expected appearance. At least this bird was fairly close and flying towards us so the images would be pleasing if not technically exact.

Hen Harrier
We were joined by the only other birder that we'd see that morning and he asked if much was about. Just a Hen Harrier over here, I said, which was greeted by much excitement by the chap who confessed to having never seen one before. Happy Christmas! The Harrier exited back the way it came and we wondered whether we'd get another chance. Ten minutes later the Hen harrier returned, again from the right (east) and took the same path around the reedbed as before so when it was close enough to the left (west) of the screen I was ready. Still far from ideal conditions and the ISO was ramped up to get a decent shutter speed but I managed to capture some nice action shots of the bird twisting and turning in its hunt for food.

The Hen Harrier visited on and off for the next hour and for a short period was joined by another although when both together they stayed well distant to the North. Then the sun did put in an appearance and I got really excited knowing that now would be my chance to grab some much better shots of the Harrier. Unfortunately the Harriers themselves must have took the brightening of the day to be their cue to disappear and roost. They didn't show again while we were on the Moor. But at least we'd seen them and I'd added a few photos to my disappointing Harrier portfolio. The Outer Hebrides is definitely under consideration for a holiday this summer.

After half an hour of waiting with only Red Kites and, curiously, a Marsh Harrier now showing we headed off to the second screen at the northern end of the reedbed. The fields, known as Noke Sides, to the west of the track to the screen are seriously flooded and are attracting many of the Plover flocks. These in turn are proving irresistible to a Peregrine Falcon that likes to hang out in a dead tree at the edge of the fields. For the third time in as many visits here recently the Peregrine flew fast and low over our heads as it attempted to surprise its quarry in the adjacent fields. For several years Peregrines were an Otmoor bogey bird for me and I never seemed to see one even if everybody else did. Thankfully I now appear to have reversed that trend and see one virtually every time I go out on Otmoor.

Peregrine Falcon
The Peregrine sent every bird within sight flying and the wheeling mass of Plovers was mind bending and definitely rivalled the Starling murmurations of the late afternoons. Equipped as I am with a 400 mm prime lens it is impossible for me to record the whole spectacle being able to only capture a small part of it.

Golden Plovers
Excitement temporarily abated after the Peregrine disappeared and the Plovers relaxed again, we stood at the designated Starling viewpoint and looked out over the expanse of reeds. I was still hoping that the Hen Harriers would appear again but it was just the bigger Marsh Harrier that flew low over the reed tops. The Marsh Harriers on Otmoor never come close enough for really good photos but at least this one, a young male, was lit up by the bright sunshine if still a tad too far away.

Marsh Harrier
The second screen offered little aside from more flurrying Plover flocks and a reclusive and teasing Cetti's warbler so we didn't linger long. A couple of Raven flew over calling raucously. The largest of our corvid species are regular over the moor and always loudly proclaim their presence.

As we reached the first screen again I looked up at more feverish activity amongst the Lapwings and saw the Peregrine scything through them once more. The hunt was really on this time and the Falcon was clearly on a mission. The chase continued out over Big Otmoor behind the trees so the Peregrine was lost to view but I have a feeling that it may well have been successful in its efforts this time.

We were pressed for time now so didn't bother spending long at the first screen the second time around and the sky was beginning to darken to the West which is a sure sign in these parts that rain is on the way. Kestrels are common on Otmoor at all times of the year and there is one that has staked its claim to the territory that runs alongside the hedge that follows the path back to the bridleway. It often uses a fine Oak tree as a lookout from which to spy prey. The Kestrel was hovering above the path as we neared the Oak but appeared to be as interested in us as we were of it since it seemed to be looking straight at us instead of concentrating on the ground.

But it wasn't us that the Kestrel was intent upon but rather the approach of a Carrion Crow that clearly wanted the Falcon out of its own space. The bigger corvid gave great chase to the falcon but the Kestrel with far superior flying prowess easily kept the Crow at bay and merely flew up into one of the bigger Oak trees along the bridleway where it resumed its vigil once more. The Crow appeared happy that it had cleared the imposter off of its patch and flew back to continue its own feeding on the lush grass of Greenaways.

Carrion Crow

It had been a terrific morning with lots of action provided by the birds of Otmoor but especially by the raptors. Quite "Raptorous" indeed! Otmoor takes some beating at the moment, there is always something happening, but I doubt you'll have it to yourselves as we did unless you wait for Christmas Eve in 2020!