The Big Bird With Two Names! Part 1, Peak District, 19th July 2020

Lammergeier, courtesy of Phil James

Over the past couple of weeks the birding world had been full of excitement that had accompanied the sighting and subsequent pinning down of a wandering Lammergeier from the continent. The Lammergeier, aka known as the Bearded Vulture (it's a vulture and the shaggy neck feathers resemble a beard, so accurate at least), by those that can't spell or say its correct name, by folk who are not really birders, and by people who think that the name Lammergeier, which translates as Lamb Vulture (or killer) in German, suggests that it might feast on the odd lamb or three and is therefore not a very kind expression for such a magnificent bird which deserves to be loved as much as any other bird does. Most of a Lammergeiers diet is mainly and uniquely composed of bones anyway and not fresh meat, okay they might be lamb bones but it doesn't actually kill the poor little things, it is a vulture remember and they scavenge on dead animals. When the Lammergeiers (my preference is for the original name) roosting spot was discovered up on the moors above Ladybower Reservoir a major twitch was sparked by many who, despite the bird unlikely to gain official recognition as a category A wild bird owing to it being an offspring of a reintroduced pair returned to the Alps, simply wanted to see the huge bird and, obviously, to get an insurance tick just in case it was ever accepted by the records committee. Over the first few days following its discovery the Lammergeier stayed loyal to roosting on an old Ravens nest on a rocky crag about three and half miles from the nearest road and hence to twitch the bird, according to most reports, required a long and arduous hike. Last weekend, armed with that knowledge, we ducked out thinking that it was an undertaking too far for us. During the week though, reports started filtering in of good sightings of the Lammergeier from other places along what is known as the Howden Edge, a high ridge of land running north to south. A couple of friends of mine had travelled to see the bird and both had got reasonable views of it as it soared along the ridge line, although both had also told of having to walk a long, long way in order to see it. It seemed that as good a place to look for it as anywhere was a landmark known as Back Tor, a high point on the ridge, where many good sightings had been had.

I started to plan our assault, I pored over maps, checked other birders stories of how to get there and what the walk was like, and slowly convinced myself that Mrs Caley and I not only could make it but would make it. I deliberated over the shortest route into Back Tor from the road, only a mile and a half but all uphill. I studied Geography to a decent level so know how to read maps and as I looked at the route in from Strines, I didn't think the contour lines looked that close together meaning that the gradient would only be gentle at worst. We've walked up Cairngorm and Carn Ban Mor in the Cairngorm Mountains many times over the years, and whilst they are hard walks, we've always managed to get up the hills in our own time. I compared the contour lines of the proposed walk to Back Tor to those of the Windy Ridge path up to Cairngorm and saw that they were only about a quarter as steep so the walk would be well with our remit. I checked local walking guides which all related that the walk was all on good way marked paths. So it had to be done, we just had to have an attempt at seeing one of Europes largest birds for ourselves.

We left home early on Sunday morning and made good progress on deserted motorways and side roads. We turned into the moorland road, where several birders were stood by their cars gazing at the distant ridges, lazy sods I thought, and headed north towards the access point, congratulating ourselves on the fact that we'd be more endeavouring and would stride up into the hills where we'd get much better and closer views of the Lammergeier. We passed the Strines Inn, where twitchers had parked to begin with, but which was now off limits because the Landlady had taken offence to those taking that liberty. It was just after seven o'clock and we were expecting to be able to park right next to the entry point, a metalled road that led up to a gamekeepers cottage at the edge of the moor, but were amazed to find every available spot already taken. Obviously we weren't the only ones keen to get a sighting of the Vulture! After a bit of toing and froing, I spotted an opportunity to park on the verge about a hundred metres away from the driveway, wedging the car in between the road and a hedge. As I walked away, I crossed my fingers and hoped that the car would be ok, since it looked as if it had been abandoned. 

The first section of the walk was fairly steep but was on the metalled track so wasn't too hard, especially compared to that walk up to Cairngorm which begins with very steep steps. It promised to be a warm day, perfect for a Vulture I thought, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. We passed a young plantation, Ewan (Black Audi Birding) who had gone for the Lammergeier on the first morning, had seen both Nightjar and Woodcock while he walked up in the dark, but apart from some common woodland birds, such as Siskin and Coal Tits, we saw little. We reached the cottage and took a breather while scanning the path ahead. To my eyes it seemed a very gradual slope up to the ridge, although I know from experience that hills and mountains get steeper towards the summit and that wasn't visible from where we stood. We left the road and continued on a wide rough track. Sadly this is Grouse shooting country and Grouse Butts lined the valley below us. The moor itself now was typical of such, barren tracts of heather with burned out patches, stretching as far as the eye could see. Our uplands have been systematically destroyed by those with a vested interest in shooting Gamebirds for fun and Birds of Prey in general have a tough time surviving in places like this. The Lammergeier had not been too wise in its choice of temporary lodgings. Luckily though, the interest among birders and the general public in the bird should ensure its safety.

We heard the "get back, get back" call of a male Red Grouse, fairly close to the path too, but in the direction of the sound we were having to look directly into the low sun. The Red Grouse helped us out though by flying a short distance across a stream, there were five altogether, a family group. Having missed out on our holiday to the Highlands of Scotland this year, these were naturally the first Red Grouse we'd seen this year and took our year list up to 195. The same old tinge of sadness arose in my heart whenever I see Red Grouse, it's only a few weeks now until people with too much money and a bloodlust come to the moor to shoot these beautiful birds for fun, and I sincerely wished that the Grouse would survive the onslaught. I struggle to understand why anybody is allowed to shoot any living creature in the name of sport these days. It's not as if there's nothing else to do in the modern age. 

Red Grouse

Better was to come just another few yards up the track, when I heard the "chacking" call of a Ring Ouzel. Again we were aided by a bird flying and followed it to one of the Grouse butts where it landed with another. The male Ring Ouzel had joined up with a juvenile and was now stood feeding its charge. We noticed another juvenile, which flew across towards us and landed in a low growing shrub where it began tentatively nibbling at berries. It was accompanied by a Mistle Thrush which just appeared to be shadowing it rather than exhibiting any animosity, I guess that the two species are similar in size and strength so have a healthy respect for each other. We also spotted the female Ring Ouzel when she settled on the path further ahead, a perfect chance to grab a decent photo but I was too slow so had to make do with more distant photos of the juveniles. I also managed to blow out all of the flight shots when the four birds sailed right past and flew off southwards.

Ring Ouzel & Mistle Thrush

Also in the same general area as the Ring Ouzels and Red Grouse were a family group of Stonechats and a couple of male Wheatear but none were close enough to pose. The path led straight ahead and I was now spending most of the time gazing skywards, fully expecting the Lammergeier to fly past at any moment. Rarely though do my expectations actually come to fruition and today was no different. As we climbed steadily higher the only birds noted now were Meadow Pipits which as always in this type of terrain seemed to be everywhere. We heard the peeping call of a Golden Plover and moments later it flew quickly past. We were up to ten birds for the morning now which for the desert that is a Grouse moor didn't seem so bad.

Meadow Pipit

We reached the paved path at the top of the rise. To our right just a few hundred metres away was Back Tor, a high point at 538 metres above sea level, and to our left the rest of the ridge that leads away towards the main Sheffield to Manchester Road. Back Tor was swarming with birders, there must have been nearly a hundred fellow like-minded souls stood and sat on and around it, and now I understood why it had been so hard to find a parking spot earlier. We camped down on some rocks just short of the Tor but, crucially, within earshot of the others so that I could hear any shouts go up should somebody spot the Vulture. We could also see some more people gathered in the distance to the North, presumably at the roost site but around another mile and a half away so we wouldn't be going there on this trip. We had only been sat down for five minutes, it was just before nine o'clock, when a murmur rippled through the crowd. Everybody began training their eyes and, for those that had them, their scopes to the South and I heard someone say that the Lammergeier was reported as flying over Stanage Edge which was about a mile and half away from where we sat. I checked my own phone and Birdguides which confirmed the sighting. Someone called, "I think I've got it, miles away over the hut on the ridge". I hadn't carried my scope with me so had to rely on just binoculars which would prove to be tricky at the distance we were away. But I managed to find the bird, it was clearly huge which had to discount every other bird except an Eagle, so I had my first ever Lammergeier but would need better views so that I could really claim it. It was definitely it though because I could hear a constant commentary of where it was from some of the scope owners who were obviously getting better views, "flying left", "over the hut now", "at the bottom of the only white cloud", and so on, which I followed with ease. Mrs Caley had more difficulty in locking on to the bird though, her bins have less magnification than mine but eventually she got on the Vulture. I regretted not carrying the scope. I did however obtain one of my most flimsy of record shots ever with the camera! Take my word for it, it is the Lammergeier, I'm counting it whether the purists do or not, and it's species number 197 on the Old Caley year list.

Lammergeier!

The Lammergeier remained soaring over the distant ridge for a good fifteen minutes or so but never appeared to come any closer. The bird wasn't easy to pick out when high in the sky with no landmarks, or even sky marks, to aim for and many people were struggling to pick it up. Taking your eyes off it wasn't a good idea because then it needed finding again which wasn't simple at all. Finding distant flying birds is never easy because unless you've focussed the binoculars to the correct distance then you're never going to be able to see the bird since it will be invisible. And despite the Lammergeier having a ten foot wingspan, at over a mile away it was just a speck.

Now we knew where the Lammergeier was, no doubt flying directly over the lazy birders who had chosen to remain with their cars on the surrounding, it made sense to walk south along the paved ridge top path to narrow the distance between it and us. Then if it broke the skyline again we'd be closer to it. Compared to the Cairngorms, the upland area here is much smaller, but it quickly appears vast when you begin walking from one point to another. We walked for half an hour and the ridge line where the Lammergeier appeared didn't seem to be getting much closer. We reached a place known as Dovestone Tor, found a nice rock to sit on and settled down. I watched the ridge constantly but there was no further sign of the Vulture. There was another couple sat on another, socially distanced rock to our left, and I noticed them looking at something through their scope and becoming quite animated as they did so. I followed their line and picked up a large bird of prey, well Mrs Caley did actually, which was flying low over a distant hillside. Heat shimmer made it very difficult to pick out any detail but the apparent size of the bird suggested that it could be the Lammergeier again. I took a couple of record shots before it dipped below the brow of the ridge that we were on. I couldn't entirely convince myself though that it was the Lammergeier so asked the other couple what they thought it was and they were adamant that it was it. I'm still not so sure, I have niggling doubts that there was just too much Common Buzzard about it but my views weren't great. My record shot is shown below.

A friend of mine, Phil, walked up and we chatted for a while. We'd met Phil at a Little Bittern twitch in Shropshire a couple of years ago and had bumped into him a few times since then, most notably at South Gare when he walked up to us and asked if we'd seen the Pomarine Skua, which we'd travelled to see and which at that time was sat on the beach just twenty feet away! Phil was on his second trip to see the Lammergeier, I had seen some really nice photos that he'd taken from almost the exact same spot that we were in now just four days ago. Like us he'd had little luck on this visit though.

Lammergeier, courtesy of Phil James

We stayed loyal to our spot hoping that the Lammergeier would fly along the ridge and treat us to the views that Phil had had earlier in the week. A loud "chickerring" noise had us pondering for a while and then a Peregrine Falcon sailed over but by the time I had armed myself with the camera it had gone past. I was surprised to see a Peregrine after having heard of the history of persecution of raptors that have occurred in this part of the world.

Peregrine

A pair of Ravens flew high and wide to our right calling raucously as they always seem to do but despite much longing from us for the Lammergeier to appear it didn't. Lots of reports of the Lammergeier flowed forth via the bird news services all the time we were on the hill but all of them were from places further south of us, and quite a few of them were from the folk who were parked up at the roadsides. Just our luck that our efforts at getting up into the Lammergeiers domain had been unrewarded and it was the less enterprising folk who had come up trumps. We had one more very distant view, rivalling our initial sighting some five hours before, when the Lammergeier appeared over the same ridge thermaling with a couple of the many hang-gliders that were adorning the skies now the day had warmed up. We spent another hour or so back at Back Tor but again to no avail before heading down back to the car, which thankfully hadn't been towed away or damaged, and drove home.

Raven

Just before we made it home, whilst stopped for a coffee at a motorway service station, news came through that the Lammergeier had flown low past Dovestone Tor where we had sat for nearly three hours. Unbelievable!

A Cake of Bread!