Our annual excursion to North Wales for a few days to celebrate Mrs Caley's big day. More a time of reflection this year and a low key break where birding wasn't the only thing on our minds. However, it was a good few days away. We always enjoy North Wales.
Saturday 21st March; Just Dyserth!
I'd chosen a secluded cottage not far from the moorland where the Black Grouse lek, and where we'd be heading on Monday morning. We couldn't get into the cottage until late afternoon, and there was nothing enticing enough to stray us away from the main route to Wales so instead we made our way directly to the coast where we knew a Lesser Yellowlegs had been present for a while, close to Rhyl.
As I turned off the main North Wales expressway, I noticed a signpost announcing that Dyserth was only five miles away. I'd learned of the name of Dyserth when I'd seen twitter posts from a friend and fellow birder, showing some Dippers that are resident at a waterfall in the village. Dyserth waterfall was apparently a local site of tourist interest, where a waterfall plunges down a small cliff. The Dippers live along the stream both above and below the waterfall. My mate had posted some fabulous photos of the Dippers so it made perfect sense to alter our original plan and go and have a look for ourselves
Being a Saturday lunchtime the village was fairly busy but we found the waterfall easily and took the last parking space in the small carpark. It was a short walk to the fall via the main road through the village, and we followed the lower stream that flowed through a manmade watercourse bordered by high stone walls on both sides. We hadn't even reached the cafe at the entrance to the falls themselves before I spotted a Dipper which was stood on a rock in a shady spot at a bend in the stream.
It was a fine sunny day and having seen one Dipper, I wanted to see some more and preferably out in the full sun. The gateway into the falls was just a few metres away so we entered, paying the paltry one pound entry fee. A small path led to the waterfall about fifty metres away. Despite not being that high, the water cascaded down a sheer cliff so was very noisy as it hit the rock floor below. From a small bridge you could witness the waterfall full on, the noise here was deafening, and if you lingered too long, you'd get very wet from the spray that was being carried out of the chasm by the force of the water generating a strong air current as well. We retreated a little so that we'd be out of the spray and were astounded when a Dipper landed on a rock just metres away. I had to back up a bit more in order to photograph it!
We sat on a small bench overlooking the stream. Our reward was to have another Dipper land on the opposite side of the stream and go into semi-torpor. When it stirred itself a few moments later, it started singing. Dipper song is unremarkable, and very soft, so it's a wonder how other Dippers can hear it over the sound of the rushing water of their preferred habitat. But I guess they have much better hearing than we do. For the next five minutes I angled to get different aspects from which to photograph the Dipper which stayed calmly by the waterside, despite a constant stream of tunnel-visioned tourists passing by, who only had eyes for the waterfall and didn't even notice the dapper little bird stood there.
The Dipper then treated us even more by flitting over to the nearside of the stream providing more decent views before it flew off downstream. Another one then landed on the same rock as before next to the waterfall.
We enjoyed ourselves and the close encounters with the water loving birds so much that we vowed to return, earlier in the day next time before the waterfall became busy with other folk, before heading for home.
We found the Lesser Yellowlegs on the far bank of the River Clywd but it took a lot of careful scanning in the early afternoon heat shimmer to find it. My efforts at photographing fell well short of the required standard to capture a meaningful record of the bird but scope views were just about good enough to clinch the identification. No complaints because we've had some great views of the species before.
The cottage was set in splendid isolation. Access was along a two hundred metre long grassy drive. It was a pink (!) fronted farmhouse surrounded by lawns and bordered by fields and a couple of streams. There were birds singing everywhere, and by the end of the break we would amass quite a list of birds seen in and around the garden. Sadly, inside the cottage was a major letdown, meaning that despite the location, we wouldn't be choosing it to stay in again. I fancied that we'd get Owls around the cottage, and sure enough later that evening we'd hear Tawny Owls hooting from a small wood nearby. I also spent five minutes photographing the six Common Buzzards and two Red Kites that were kettling above the cottage in the late evening.
Sunday 22nd March; A Traditional Big Day
It has become a habit of ours to be in North Wales for Mrs Caley's big day. And more often than not, we spend the actual day on Anglesey, primarily to see a few species that we don't find inland in Oxfordshire. We usually prefer to go onto the island during the week because it gets a lot busier at weekends but this year we had no choice since we had other plans for the rest of our stay.
The day dawned bright and fine but soon deteriorated into a grey drizzly one. While Mrs Caley was getting herself prepared for the day, I took a tour around the garden of the cottage. There were birds everywhere, with Chiffchaffs seemingly singing from every tree and Song Thrushes and various Finches feeding on the lawns. I wandered over to the stream and looked off the driveway bridge, seeing Mallards swimming rapidly away. I followed the stream into the back garden and had a major surprise when a pair of Mandarin Ducks exploded up and out of the narrow waterway. We see Mandarin Ducks on the River Dee at Llangollen which is around twenty miles away from where we were staying so it appears as if the exotic ducks are spreading out a bit. A Sparrowhawk sped through and narrowly missed out in having a Robin for breakfast. Stupidly I'd already put my camera in the boot of my car, and had left it there while I investigated the garden. As we drove away for the day out, a pair of Red-legged Partridges gave us a race to the nearest gate.
We've had some cracking days out on Anglesey but this wasn't to be one of them. Initially we managed to cheat the weather by getting ahead of it as we travelled northwards, however, it was particularly windy by the time we reached Holyhead. First stop as usual, was at the harbour to see Black Guillemots. Several pairs of the smart auks nest amongst the harbour walls. Seeing a few of the birds is never in question but often the views are distant. In fact I can't remember ever having close views of them at Holyhead. That trend continued this time as well with just two birds showing on the furthest side from where we stood. We spotted a Great Northern Diver out at the harbour mouth, even further away.
South Stack was our next stop. It was tricky to stand up at the top of the road by the lighthouse steps since the wind really blew at the exposed spot. It's a windy place at the best of times. We've had some really good birding at the RSPB reserve. Last year we watched a small flock of Twite on the grassy slopes of the upper cliffs, and we've had terrific views of many birds over the years there. This time there was virtually nothing. A Black Redstart had been reported but we couldn't even find that and assumed it had found a more secluded spot out of the wind. We ventured a short way down the steps, not too far because every step down is another step back up. There were Razorbills and Guillemots on the sea but no sign of any returning Puffins yet. We saw Choughs, a whole two in fact. They were flying in and out of cliff caves way below us, presumably searching out potential nest sites. They flatly refused to fly into any airspace that was near us. We did have a tiny bit of success with our final year tick of the day at the cliffs, a Rock Pipit actually came close enough for me to get some photos.
There was no sign of the resident Hooded Crow at The Range or in neighbouring fields. This was the first year that we'd missed him/her since it first appeared in the South Stack area. There was little else to see so we returned to Holyhead harbour for another go at the Black Guillemots. They disappointed once again although we were treated to a nice flypast by one.
Surf Scoters had been regularly reported at Penmaenwr back on the mainland, including while we had been on Anglesey. I tried hard for almost an hour to find them but couldn't turn any of the Common Scoters into one. I couldn't find the Red-necked Grebe that had been reported either. We did add Red-breasted Mergansers to our year list. There were also at least twenty Red-throated and ten Great Northern Divers offshore. Gannets and Shags were offshore as well, and I spotted a pair of Eider ducks, all new on the year list. On the face of it, nine year ticks would sound like a good day, but in truth it was largely disappointing, both in terms of birds and for photography. I expect too much it seems.
Monday 23rd March; Grouse and Dippers!
The real reason that we choose a few days away in North Wales at this time of year is to visit the not-so-secret site of a Black Grouse lek. We've been visiting the lek for ten years now. When we first started going up on the moors at the crack of dawn, we were pretty much the only interested parties. Nowadays, because the word has gotten around of the Grouse lek taking place every day during spring, lots of birders and photographers visit. It's a major draw because the Black Grouse perform their semi-aggressive mating ritual very close to a public road, you can watch them without leaving your car, and thus the birds are left relatively undisturbed.
We left the cottage at four-thirty in the morning in order to get parked up by five o'clock. This is one of the few times in the year when we make the effort to get out so early, but it's often necessary to ensure that one of the prized parking spaces is secured. As it happened we were the first to arrive on this occasion. It was still dark and no definition of anything could be made out on the moor. Slowly the light would ease into the day from the east which is behind the observer here, and is another good point in favour for viewing the lek. We sat quietly in the dark, all interior lights of the car dimmed with the windows opened. After a few minutes of acclimatisation we began to pick up the eerie noises of the moor. The Black Grouse were already there, they would have flown in some time before, and their weird bubbling calls were softly wafting over to us. Red Grouse calls of "Get back, get back" could also be heard. Both species breed on the high moors here and both were highly anticipated year ticks for us.
With the day beginning to dawn but still too dark to see clearly at around half past five, another car approached. Unusually it came toward us, and we were momentarily blinded by the bright headlights. The driver was clearly not a seasoned visitor to the lek. Those of us that know, always switch off the headlights when we get close to the parking lay-by. The driver then committed the cardinal sin of getting out of the car but at least by coming in the wrong way around he was concealed from the Grouse by his car. Not that the Grouse would be bothered much since it wasn't light enough to see anything. The chap edged his way round to my open window and asked if he was at the right place for the lek. To save him any embarrassment, I won't name him or his companion in the car but both are good friends of mine, I answered in the affirmative and urged my mate back into his car so that he could enjoy the spectacle that was soon to start.
Nobody else turned up until past seven o'clock so the four of us from Oxfordshire had the whole show to ourselves. As always with the first lifting of the veil of darkness there is huge temptation to pick up the camera. The urge to take photos is always strong but pretty pointless while it's still dark. Photos will be taken and all will be hopeless if you do succumb to the nagging notion of, 'What if the Grouse fly off and don't come back'. From my experience the Black Grouse won't relinquish their lek site even if disturbed by a bird of prey. If they do fly off early doors they generally return soon after. So I've learned to keep my powder dry and keep the camera holstered until you can at least make the birds out clearly. Hence my first photo wasn't taken until nearly quarter past six, and I only took that because one bird had its back to us which meant that I could focus on the bright white tail feathers. Watching those white tail "buns" move around the moor in the near darkness is another eerie feature of the display.
A pair of Canada Geese that always appear at some point during the proceedings arrived early this time. They comically fly in with some gusto, calling loudly, then prance their way through the lekking ground as if to make a point that the arena isn't just for Grouse. As far as Grouse go though, it is only for the use of Black Grouse because any Red Grouse that dares to come close is soon ushered off by their larger cousins. A Hare also bolted across the disused slate mining area that the Black Grouse have adopted. Interestingly when the Hare passed close by a Black Grouse, there was a clear indication of how large the male Black Grouse are. They are very impressive birds. The other interloper that we saw early on was a Curlew which flew in and stood atop one of the grassy mounds overlooking the lek. It also called loudly as if to tell the Grouse that they're mad. I agree with the Curlew, Black Grouse are positively barmy but we love watching watch them, and get up ridiculously early to so, which makes us just as mental.
We had been promised a nice sunny morning by the weather forecasters so I was getting very excited at the prospect of getting some nice photographs once the sun had crested the hill from which it was rising behind. Until it did though, as it lightened up I took a few more photos, concentrating my efforts of some of the duels taking place between rival birds. I've tried loads of times to work out which bird is the "Top Cock" of the lek and think it is a fine looking specimen that dominates the part of the lek nearest the road. Battles usually involve two birds but occasionally another one is drawn in to create an agitated triumvirate. We counted nine individuals this year, down by one on last year, and way down from the twenty-two that we saw when we first started watching this lek. If the decline continues then sadly the lek isn't going to continue for much longer. In all the time we've been, we've only ever seen two hen birds as well but that may be because we visit in March. The lek gets more fervent later in Spring as breeding time approaches so the females may be much more interested then.
When the sun finally emerged just after seven o'clock, we were cheated by a veil of thick cloud that had chosen the exact same time to form in the sky above the moor. My hopes of getting nice warm sunshine cast over the lek were dashed. It wasn't going to get very light at all. So the ISO setting stayed ramped up and the shutter speeds remained low, and I obtained less than satisfactory images for the second year running. I think I've lost my edge when it comes to these photographing Black Grouse.
We had a couple of alarms when the Black Grouse suddenly flew up and flew away down a ravine. Of the original nine birds, after the first departure only seven returned, but they happily carried on lekking. When they were set up again about twenty minutes later, only five made it back. Then just before eight o'clock, the five started drifting off one at a time. Some walked away over the mound the Curlew favoured, others flew rapidly off.
The lekking ground was quiet again, and our Black Grouse fix had been satisfied for another year. It wasn't a vintage show but still enjoyable. We drove away, and looked for some of the other birds that live on the moor. Red Grouse proved hard to find, and we only found one male bird within camera distance. We had more luck with a Meadow Pipit, which allowed for close scrutiny from the car.
With the lek over, we'd usually head into Llangollen for breakfast and for a walk along the River Dee. However, because we'd already seen Goosanders and Mandarin Ducks this year, and now knew of a better place to see Dippers, we changed tack and aimed to go back to the "better" Dipper place. Conveniently, one of our favourite coffee places was en route. I'd thoroughly recommend The Lodge near Denbigh to anyone in that area; the food is delicious, as is the coffee, and the trifles are stuff of dreams, even at nine in the morning!
We were at Dyserth again by ten o'clock before any tourists had arrived, so we had the whole place to ourselves. Our reward was to get the closest views of Dippers that we've ever had, and we've had some amazing encounters with the species many times in Scotland and elsewhere.
At first though, there was no sign of any Dippers! We sat on a bench close to the waterfall admiring the water crashing down and, after ten minutes or so, were wondering whether we should venture up above the fall by way of the path and steep steps that ascend the cliff. those steps put us off though, so we sat and just enjoyed the sunshine which had eluded us up on the moors earlier. Our wait ended after about twenty minutes when a Dipper whirred past heading downstream. It, or another returned a few minutes later and this time, conveniently landed in the stream close to the opposite bank from where we sat. I got up and moved to the low wall ready to take photos. The Dipper hopped up onto a flat rock and began to sing. Most likely the same bird that we had seen a couple days previously. Dippers are very territorial birds.
Not content to show off from the opposite side of the stream, the Dipper then choose a rock midstream and continued to deliver his merry little song. At such close range the song was clearly audible for a change too. With the Dipper only metres away, my lens was at the near limit of its reach for once. It's a lot easier that way, rather than when you're reaching as far as possible to obtain just record shots.
After the song came a bout of preening, with each feather carefully looked after and oiled. Dippers have to ensure that their feathers are kept in good order and are well waterproofed for life in the water. The white nictating eye membranes were often exhibited, a superb adaptation that enables the Dipper to protect its eyes while hunting for submerged food.
The preening and fluffing was suddenly stopped, and the Dipper became momentarily fixated on the water beneath its feet. When the bird dipped its head towards the water surface, I rattled off some shots, and was amazed when reviewing the photos that the Dipper had caught and dispatched a small fly! It's instances like that where the camera allows a lot more to be seen than the native eye could capture. The ability to freeze a fraction of a second of action isolates a moment in time that would normally pass as unobservable by just observing.
Post-snack the Dipper resumed its beautifying routine. This Dipper clearly wanted to look the part for any potential suitors that may be around. I shifted my own position to the small footbridge that crossed the stream, so that I could get some front on poses from the dapper Dipper.
I returned to the seat, and there was just time to grab a few more side on shots, including a nice yawn from the bird (shown as the header to this post), before another Dipper flew past, and "our" star Dipper followed it downstream. As I mentioned earlier, this Dipper had given the best views that we'd ever had of the species. Dippers are very special birds.
I noticed another pair of Dippers flitting around the waterfall. They appeared to be prospecting for a nest site behind the curtain of cascading water. I tried photographing the scene in an attempt to get both the bird(s) and waterfall in the same view. I'm not afraid to admit though, that my skills in capturing the event were definitely lacking. I'm used to pointing my camera directly at a subject and find it difficult to compose habitat shots.
The weather deteriorated after lunch, leaving us with some murky conditions in which to look for Crossbills in the Clocaenog Forest. The picnic site at Bod Petrul is one of the best places I know of to see the oddities of the finch family. Early morning visits are best when a whole flock can be seen drinking and bathing at the nearby pond. I've never failed to find Crossbills at the picnic site, and although it proved to be hard work this time, we eventually found a few feeding at the top of the tallest larches by the road. As they often are, they were joined by a number of Siskins. Viewing was tricky owing to the conditions and photography a waste of time.
My camera was back in the car, and we were ready to leave when a Goshawk sailed overhead at reasonable range. That's just typical. Rain was settling in so we headed off back to the cottage. The Black Grouse had been ok, if not great, and the Dippers superb, so we took it as a good day, even if it had petered out somewhat.
Tuesday 24th March; One Bird can make a Purple Patch!
We awoke to full on rain, and the prospect of it continuing for most of the day. For the first few hours I kept an eye on the rainfall radar via an App on my phone, and reasoned that there may be a window of opportunity for some birding around lunchtime. So after a leisurely start to the day and a nice breakfast we chose to head back the coast to look for one our favourite wader species.
Rhos-on-Sea is a seaside town wedged in by the bigger resorts of Colwyn Bay and Llandudno. The beach is mainly composed of pebbles and rocky foreshores so it tends to be a bit quieter than the larger towns which boast sandy beaches. At the western end of the promenade, a defensive wall of large rocks has been created to protect against the often violent storms that crash into the land after blowing down through the Irish Sea. These rocks provide refuge for wading birds at high tides. Fortunately the small window of slightly better weather coincided with a high tide so we'd take a look amongst the rocks from the promenade above and search for any birds that may be there.
The rain had eased a little bit to annoying drizzle, that stuff that gets you wet and is like slow torture since you know you're going to end up wet through, it just takes longer to get there. The wind was blowing out to sea from onshore so we at least were looking away from the rain as we looked for the birds. We had learned of this spot a few years ago after perusing Alan Davies superb book about birding in the area. It was suggested to be a good spot to encounter Purple Sandpipers, particularly in the winter when many could be there. By the end of March, most of the charismatic little wading birds will have already moved northwards in anticipation of breeding. However, we've never failed to find some whenever we've looked there before.
The best spot to look from is where a small jetty leads down to the sea so that is where we concentrated our search, looking for any movement at the rocky edge of the shore. The tide was coming in rapidly and we soon found a scattering of Turnstones that were feeding ahead of the incoming water. We counted around twenty of them in all.
The Turnstones were all heading towards the sanctuary of the largest rocks on the other side of the slipway from where they were. There is access down the slippery concrete path so I carefully walked down and snuggled in just short of where the sea lapped up against the shore. That brought me into close quarters with the birds. Turnstones are always confiding birds so none of them were at all perturbed by my presence. Indeed they just kept doing their thing, probing under and around the pebbles, and all the time edged closer and closer.
I was getting superb views of the lovely little Turnstones. All of them were still sporting their winter plumage which is much subdued compared to their bold breeding plumage. The summer garb isn't often seen in this country since most Turnstones breed much further north around the coasts of Scandinavia. In any uniform, I think they are one of our smartest turned out wading birds. They also have "kind" faces which lend them a happy, smily look.
A few of the Turnstones decided it was time for a snooze. At high tide, all wading birds go to roost since their feeding areas become reclaimed by the sea and submerged. As soon as the tide ebbs out again, they'll be back feeding again. As the water pushed further in, the birds had to constantly shift their positions until they reached the larger rocks which would remain high and dry.
Most of the Turnstones continued feeding though as they kept ahead of the surging tide. Photo opportunities were limitless although the chill wind and light rain didn't make for ideal conditions.
Once in the final roosting spot most birds disappeared out of view on the seaward side of the rocks. There had been no sign of any Purple Sandpipers so we made our way back to where we'd parked our car. We were literally feet away from the path that led up the seawall to the road, when I noticed a small greyish looking bird moving around on some large rocks, in the company of three Turnstones. I knew instantly of course, that I'd found a Purple Sandpiper!
Birding is more than often unpredictable. We had searched a four hundred metre stretch of coastline where we had found Purple Sandpipers before, and then go and find one right next to where we parked in a spot where I'd never seen one before. It made it all the sweeter on this occasion because I had thought that our chance had gone. In addition the persistent drizzle had relented and there was even gaps forming in the cloud cover offering the unlikely chance of seeing a little bit of sunshine. At least I'm good at reading weather maps. Apart from Dotterel, Purple Sandpipers are my favourite wading bird species. They have great temerity borne out of being so adapted to the rocky foreshore where they spend most of their time. For breeding they, like most of our familiar wading birds, head northwards to the rocky terrain of the high Arctic, although a few breed in mountainous areas further south. Indeed, Mrs Caley and I happened upon a couple of breeding plumaged Purple Sandpipers in suitable breeding habitat on the Cairngorm plateau once. In summer they wear a more brownish and scaly plumage rather than the overall greyish colour of this bird. They are never really "purple" at all but I guess that the first people describing the bird felt that it was sufficiently so to differentiate against similar "grey" birds.
The Purple Sandpiper, and the loose gaggle of Turnstones with it, was earnestly heading in the same direction as the others had before. They didn't move far though but did clamber through the rocks to a slightly closer spot for us to watch them. Miraculously, the sun did appear for a few brief moments, and I had better conditions to gain a few photos with shadows!
When the birds reached a seemingly preordained spot, they settled down to roost. A brief bout of preening and then they almost dissolved into the rocks although they were still in full view. The clouds closed again, and it began spitting with rain once more, so we left the birds behind and retreated back to our favourite eatery. It rained all afternoon so that was the end of our birding for this trip.
Wednesday 25th March; On the Edge
On the drive back to home we reflected on our break away which had come to an end far too soon. There had been some highlights, like the Dippers, and a few disappointments, such as the lack of birds at South Stack. The weather had been mixed, which is expected for Wales in March. The biggest letdown was the cottage, which was poor, and only had its location to raise it to bearable standards.
As we always do, we checked the bird news as we filtered down through the Dee valley. Mrs Caley noticed that there were a couple of Ring Ouzels pretty much on our route home at Lutley Edge near Dudley. Incredibly it looked as if we'd actually left good weather behind. We were driving through heavy rain and even light snow and sleet!
It had also become very windy and we were buffeted by the gusts as we walked along a track towards the horse paddocks where the Ouzels had been seen. We tucked ourselves into a hedge to gain some relief from the wind, and the hailstorm that was racing through as well. This wasn't nice birding conditions at all. There was no sign of any Ring Ouzels or, unsurprisingly, any other birders, so we continued along the track until we found another sheltered spot. Again there was no sign of the birds and I was thinking that we'd been thwarted this time.
Close to the point of giving up, I noticed a few Jackdaws flying into the second paddock. There was a smaller black bird with them. Of course it could have been a Blackbird but I swung the scope onto it anyway and there was a male Ring Ouzel staring back at me. At a hundred metres distant, I took a few atmospheric photos of the Ring Ouzel in the falling hail, and then we beat a hasty retreat back to the warm car. It wasn't worth standing out in the freezing cold any longer than we'd done already.
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