Snow Dumpling, Cleeve Common, 28th November 2021

After being kept at home by the wild weather on Saturday which resulted in my having to do some essential temporary repairs to our garden fence to prevent it from being repositioned somewhere in the North Sea we were determined to go out on Sunday and see something. We arranged to meet our good friend Mark (aka The Early Birder) at Cleeve Common in the morning where a Snow Bunting had been thrilling birders, toggers and the interested passing public alike, who doesn't love a Snow Bunting? Another good friend of ours, Kyle (aka Birdwatch Britannia), had seen the bird on Saturday afternoon and had secured some nice photos of the bird feeding on snow covered grass. At the time I had rued missing out on the opportunity to go there on Saturday because I thought that the snow would have melted by Sunday. I needn't have worried though since we even had some snowfall in Bicester on Saturday evening so there was sure to be some left in the Cotswolds particularly in view of overnight temperatures as low as minus five degrees celsius.

We were on the road early because we aimed to arrive for the sunrise at quarter to eight. We'd never visited Cleeve Common before despite it being only an hours drive from home and well known as a decent birding spot especially during spring and autumn migration times. It also attracts quite a few scarce and rare birds that we could have gone to see in the past and will certainly consider doing so in the future. The drive was fine on the clear roads at the early hour although the temperature was reading a chilly minus three still. The long haul up the hill to the Common was a lot icier and extra care was necessary. There were Thrushes in huge numbers and of various types flying out of the bushes and trees that lined the minor road. They were mostly Redwing but Fieldfare, Blackbirds and Song Thrushes were all seen as well in addition to several flocks of unidentifiable Finches. At the end of the road we spotted Mark's van as expected and more surprisingly a few other cars already parked up. I had known that we wouldn't beat The Early Birder to it, he didn't choose that moniker for nothing, but I also knew that we didn't need to because it was still fairly gloomy although we could see the sun just emerging to the East behind the hill.

Booting up in the carpark was tricky because of thick ice that coated the tarmac. Our first view of the common was one of a sea of white, it had readily snowed here the day before and there was a more than passing resemblance to a snow coated plateau in the Cairngorms where several pairs of Snow Buntings breed and where a few hardier individuals remain all winter long. We could see Mark prowling around what is known as the Dew Pond about a couple of hundred metres from the cars. We joined him at the fenced off pond and exchanged pleasantries. It was shivering cold and an icy wind numbed the extremities and I was glad that I'd worn full thermal kit for the first time this winter. Cleeve Common is almost a thousand feet above sea level and is the highest point in The Cotswolds so is very exposed and on a morning such as this, was frankly, quite b****y arctic!

Mark said that he hadn't seen the bird despite walking around the pond twice already. As he was saying that a shifting shape low to my right caught my eye, so I casually said to him, "What's that there then?", knowing already that it was the Snow Bunting. On the ground, in the weak morning light, it was surprising how well the Bunting blended in and it took a few seconds before both Mrs Caley and Mark saw it. It was probably only around a dozen feet away too!

The Snow Bunting, fluffed up against the cold but obviously much more suited to the conditions than we'd ever be considering that it is a bird of the Arctic and other cold climates, was pecking away at the snow and ice covered short grass of the hill. An untethered dog ran past and it flew up and perched on the barbed wire fence that surrounded the pond where it posed beautifully, illuminated by the rising sun.

Snow Buntings are well known for being fearless birds and this one was no exception and appeared totally relaxed even though we were stood just metres away. Mark is a very competent photographer and at this early hour, realising that the lighting coming hard from one side was problematic for good photography, didn't bother even raising the camera whereas I was already shooting frame after frame because I don't really care for optimal conditions and take shots whenever I feel like it. It's not like I'm trying to win any competitions! I tried to get around to the "right side" of the bird so that the sunlight hit the subject nicely. Typically though just as I got a decent front on view, the bird turned around and gave me the rear view instead. Still I love them all regardless.

The sun having now appeared in its entirety above the brow of the hill embellished the frozen water of the pond and turned it into a brilliant blue colour which provided a radiant backdrop to the next set of photos. The Snow Dumpling, as I had re-christened it because of its plump shape as it balanced on the wires, stretched, preened and readied itself for the days foraging ahead.

Because of the low sun, the lighting was changing rapidly and the three of us danced around the outside of the pond in order to get what we thought was the best viewpoint at the time in order to get shadow free views. The snow covered steep banks of the pond interspersed with long grassy stalks offered more vibrant backgrounds to the photos.

Having completed its morning ablutions, albeit without a dip in the pond, denied to it because it was frozen solid of course, the Snow Bunting looked prepared for a bout of feeding. Firstly though it hopped  onto a post, took a good look around, and then hopped back onto the fence nearby where it nibbled away at the tallest grass stems. From there it dropped onto the ground and began feeding in earnest.

On the ground the Snow Bunting could be hard to discern particularly when it fed inconspicuously next to the fence. Fortunately it chose to peck away at the grass covered by a nice clump of snow which presented another scene for the next of photos. This bird was giving us the full gamut of poses and settings for us, Mark had finally decided that the time was ready for photos so had joined in the fun.

The Bunting moved out into the shadows to the west of the fence and at times could be really difficult to see by the uninitiated as proven by two birder-toggers walking almost straight over it! The bird merely shifted slightly back to the fence to avoid there feet. Usually I'd been annoyed because any other bird would have flushed at such a close approach but we'd already had a good fill of this bird and it wasn't bothered by them anyway. When they asked, "Where is it?", we pointed to where they had just come from. They still couldn't see it until it fluttered back out onto the trodden ground again.

Another few birders and toggers arrived and just as at a gig when for some reason people need to talk over the music, the conversation and the disturbance increased, not to the bird which remained oblivious to the folk poring over it, but to us who for forty-five minutes had enjoyed the serenity of the scene. We could see more folk arriving to enjoy the bird and I was grateful that we'd got there so much earlier and had the bird to ourselves. I took a few more photos of the Snow Dumpling and we left, leaving Mark behind to get that crippling shot that he so craves and deserves for his patience, see his blog at The Early Birder for the excellent results.

I've seen lots of Snow Buntings over the years, in the Scottish Mountains and around the coasts so to see one inland and not far from home was a bonus. It was also one of the best "performers" that I've ever encountered.