The Wonder of Wales, Day 1, 17th June 2021

Mrs Caley and I needed a break. It had been a traumatic few months for us and the rest of our family and it was time to clear our heads. We wanted to go somewhere where we could rest and recuperate but also see some different birds to add to our year list. A huge gap in any year list of any birder living in Oxfordshire are the seabirds since very few ever make it to our landlocked county. Hence for a seabird fix we have to, naturally, travel to the coast. Usually we'd get our seabirds in Scotland during our annual summer holiday there but haven't been able to get there for the past two years. So we considered possible destinations for a couple of days away, the Bempton area of Yorkshire where there are very accessible seabird colonies, Northumberland and the Farne Islands which offer great seabird experiences, Skomer off the coast of Pembrokeshire but we felt that all would be very busy with other tourists and we wanted peace and quiet. Then Mrs Caley mentioned a bird that we both really like, the Chough, and Cornwall was discussed but the South-west doesn't have the other breeding seabirds. So we were left with one other place where you do get Choughs, seabirds and a few other "goodies" too, Anglesey at the top of Wales!

I found a hotel just a few minutes away from the RSPB reserve at South Stack in Trearddur Bay and booked up just a week before our departure date which also happened to be my birthday. The cost of the two night stay was a bit of a shock but it was a special occasion and I reminded myself once more that we needed the break. If covid has affected anything then it is the cost of staying away in the UK with prices of all accommodation seemingly rocketing. If we're going away somewhere then we always try to stop off at other places on the way so I hatched a plan to get some other year ticks on the way up. I calculated that over the next two days we should get a minimum of 12 new birds for the year and could, with luck, get 15 or even 20 if some rare birds presented twitching opportunities. South Stack itself would provide most of the seabirds that we needed and there would be other birds on the island that we could add too. 

The first stop on our itinerary would be the high ground of the Berwyn Mountains and a place known as Worlds End. A single track road (road being a loose interpretation since some of it resembles a rough mountain sheep track in parts) crosses lonely and desolate moorland but it's a road that, for birders at least, holds great excitement. Well it does in the spring, when several Black Grouse leks are present in the area including a very famous one right by the road. In mid-June the Grouse will have stopped lekking and the females will either be sitting on eggs or tending to young while the males, having jousted with each other for months, will spend their days surreptitiously feeding amongst the heather or hiding away in the surrounding coniferous woodland. It was worth trying anyway since Black Grouse can be seen in Scotland in the summer months so there was always a chance of finding some. We had the moorland road to ourselves but our hopes of finding any Black Grouse on the lekking fields were instantly dashed when a farmer trundled straight through on a Quad-bike. We were luckier with a Red Grouse though which stuck its head up out of the heather to see what the commotion was about, the first year tick of the trip and our 195th species for the year.

Red Grouse

We drove on all the way through the moorland but frequent stops and scanning didn't yield any Black Grouse and we weren't interested in walking away from the road because we wanted to have time to visit a couple of other places before heading to the hotel. We checked the ford, a place where we've seen Dippers, but there was no sign of them either. We turned around and on our reemergence to the moor, Mrs Caley spotted a female Ring Ouzel in an isolated Rowan tree, not new for the year but nice to see. We added a couple more Rouzels and a Mistle Thrush in another tree a short way away too. Meadow Pipits were everywhere as expected. Then as we drove slowly through the heather cloaked moor, it was my turn to spot a bird, and this time it was one that we had hoped for, a fine male Whinchat. The Whinchat was hunting for food in the heather and bracken so I stopped the car so that we could get a better view. Whinchats had passed us by in the spring when moving through our local area so it was good to get them here and thus save having to seek them out when they return in the autumn. Male Whinchats are very strikingly marked birds with a lovely peachy-orange breast and a bright broad white supercilium. A female was also around but stayed higher up the hillside and out of reach of my lens.

Whinchat

Our trundle along the road on the return journey didn't yield any Black Grouse but we did see a couple more of the Red variety. We left the moor, filled up with petrol and headed the thirty miles northwards to the coast and to Gronant a few miles from Prestatyn. This part of the North Wales coast was virgin territory to me and unless I return to Gronant, I won't be rushing back any time soon. Gronant Dunes though holds a breeding colony of another species of bird that we wanted to see and one that would also be guaranteed to be there. We parked up in the free carpark (Cornwall take note) and tucked into the cafe "that time forgot" opposite, to be fair the chips were good although I was tempted to chuck a couple at some of our fellow diners just to see if they were still capable of movement. A short walk along the access road to a caravan site leads to Gronant Dunes Nature Reserve and the path to our destination led through a marshy area and then across some grass covered sand dunes. We stopped to admire a couple of beautiful Swallows, one of which had been bathing in the aptly named Prestatyn Gutter, which stunk, and I wondered how the bird could look so fabulous after taking a dip in the rank water.

Swallow

Skylarks sang overhead and one hovered low enough to give me the opportunity to take some more, but slightly better than usual, rubbish photos of the species. The week before while twitching a Rosy Starling at Martin Down in Wiltshire, we were surrounded by Skylarks so it's good that they are doing well in certain places. Coastal dunes and grassland provide extremely important habitat for one of our most tuneful birds.

Skylark

The designated viewpoint for the Little Tern colony is too far away for all but very distant views of the birds so we stumbled down the soft sandy dunes onto the firmer beach below and walked towards the obvious roped off area of pebbles where the Terns breed. The breeding colony is monitored 24/7 by the North Wales Little Tern Group and we were watched as we approached. A sign requests that people, especially those with dogs, stay at least 30 metres away from the nesting birds, most of which are protected by an electric fence but a few nest outside the colony palisade. We made our way further out onto the wide beach since I wanted to watch the birds fishing at the waters edge. The noise of a Tern colony is something that should be experienced firsthand since over two hundred diminutive Little Terns make a cacophony of sound with their endless shrieks. When a Herring Gull passed overhead, the entire community of Little Terns, or so it seemed, took to the air in an attempt to ward off the intruder. It's hopeless trying to capture a huge flock of birds on a camera, you have to see it first hand, but like the doofus I am, I tried, and failed, anyway.

Little Tern, (Gull deterrent detail)

The Little Terns, our 196th species of the year, were constantly flying out to the sea to fish. Most were going too far out to follow but a few were taking advantage of a small lagoon of trapped water that the incoming tide was filling by the second. Here we were afforded better and closer views of the bandit masked Terns. Obviously, Little Terns are our smallest breeding species of Tern, only around half the size of a Common Tern, so close views are required for photography. The best place I know of to photograph Terns is the Ythan Estuary on the East coast of Scotland and my mind wandered off to those parts while Mrs Caley and I ambled and took in the scenery as well as the birds. The beach here is made of lovely lush sand but the outlook isn't great with a wall of wind turbines spoiling the panorama out to sea. I must ask my mate Captain Trev just how many of the ugly, but necessary so I'm told, windmills there are off the North Wales coast. It must be thousands. We sat for a while and could have been a million miles away.

Little Tern

Regaining a grip on reality, I set about trying to get more than just record shots. We walked along the fast disappearing lagoon to where some Little Terns were fishing but frustratingly never managed to get close enough to them for any diving shots. The best I could do was take shots of the birds as they flew rapidly past or as they passed overhead.

There were other birds on the beach, a flock of thirty or so Oystercatchers were strung out along the shoreline and as many Cormorants stood a bit further along the beach although they were only viewable as heat hazed fuzzy outlines. Herring Gulls were frequent observers of the Tern colony, presumably waiting for any opportunity at stealing in and grabbing an unattended chick. Closer to us we noticed a couple of Ringed Plovers that scuttled along the waters edge before flying off after being flushed by a dog and its attendant.

Ringed Plover

We needed to get moving so left with the tide lapping at our boots and returned to the dunes again. Back at the stinky ditch a Little Egret crossed our path before alighting on a wall next to a pump house. A Herring Gull annoyed in turn, a pair of Coots, some Mallards and a Grey Heron, all of which didn't appear to be doing anything that should irritate the Gull but I guess that the marauding bird was just naturally agitated by everything its area.

Little Egret

Herring Gull

As we neared the caravan park we could hear the melodic tumble of a Willow Warbler and spotted the source of the song, exactly where it should be, at the top of a willow! We stood and watched for a full five minutes before the Warbler gave up his singing. It had been a good first visit to Gronant which appears as a gem in the midst of a pretty grim area generally.

Willow Warbler

Our last destination of the day was to a place that would almost be last on a list of places to visit if it wasn't for the fact that Holyhead harbour is home to a few pairs of one of our rarest breeding seabirds. The drive to and onto Anglesey went smoothly with fine views of the Snowdonia Mountains and the thrill of driving through the (almost) Alpine style Conwy tunnels. Holyhead is where you get on ferries destined for Dublin and that's about it (I'm sure there must be more going for the town but on the surface it's not evident). It's a typical small port town with rusting boats and ironworks everywhere, and with deserted and derelict quaysides. We needed to find the eastern side of the harbour and that feat took some endeavour since there is no sign posting. In the end we found an empty ramshackle carpark, serving as a local rubbish tip judging by the amount of discarded take away wrappers, bottles, cans and worse, which led right to the harbour mouth. Fortunately none of the fly tippers were present and we had the run of the place. We were in luck too and wouldn't have to stay too long since I instantly spotted two pairs of the lovely Black Guillemots on the far side of the harbour. We had our fourth year tick of the day, out of a hoped for five so not a bad return and our 197th of the year in all.

Black Guillemot

Thinking the distant views would suffice and not wanting to stay any longer than we had to, we made to get back in the car just as two of the Black Guillemots decided to fly across the water and land about fifty metres away. One of the birds then performed a preening ritual and posed for some decent shots although nothing like you can obtain in Oban or Portpatrick harbours in Scotland. When seen well, the name Black Guillemot doesn't do these birds full justice because, although they are generally black, they also possess, in summer plumage, large white wing patches and bright red feet and the inside of the bill is also a striking red to match.

We were on Anglesey, about to check into a nice hotel with a posh birthday meal and drinks to come later and a full day on the island to look forward to tomorrow. We felt good.

White-Throats of a Kind! 10-11 April 2021

The Ring Ouzels that we'd tried to see at Ivinghoe Beacon on Easter Sunday had remained there all week so on the following Saturday we headed back there in an attempt to add them to our year list. Ring Ouzels are birds of uplands, breeding in areas such as the Peak and Lake Districts, Wales and Scotland, and when on passage tend to choose similar higher ground in which to stop and feed. North Oxfordshire isn't blessed with hills and valleys so, to see Rouzels locally, we generally have to venture a bit further afield and often into neighbouring counties. Ivinghoe Beacon is part of the Dunstable Downs area and lies about twenty-five miles to the east of home, closer in fact that the Oxon Downs to the South where Ring Ouzels can also occasionally be found during spring. Our usual go-to place, Linkey Down, had yet to turn up any twitchable Rouzels this year so rather than wait for some more to turn up in Oxon it made sense to go and get some elsewhere.

In contrast to the manic scenes of Easter Sunday when the hills were alive with people charging around everywhere, early on the Saturday morning it was still tranquil and there were few cars parked in the carpark. Having done our recce the week before we knew where to go and after less than ten minutes we stood above a sheep pasture watching the Ring Ouzels. Without the masses around it was easy, the birds were settled and feeding on the cropped grass. Rouzels are wary though and the three males and single female kept close to the fence line and sanctuary provided by the thick bushes on the other side.

Ring Ouzels are often referred to as "Mountain Blackbirds" owing to their similar appearance to our garden Blackbirds and because they're found in upland areas, obvious really. They are hardy birds and can be found breeding in some very inhospitable places such as the Cairngorm Mountains where we would normally see them in summer. They resemble the common Blackbird, by being a closely related Thrush species, and the males are black and the females brown. But Rouzels are slightly bigger, more robust in structure and, the males in particular, have a striking white crescent shaped patch at the top of the breast, which is also present but more subdued in females. The wings appear silvery-grey when the birds are in flight. Their feeding habit is also is liar to our garden birds with earthworms making up a large part of the diet.

Ring Ouzels, male (top), female (bottom)

Having taken my records shots, I naturally wanted better so I chose one of the periods when the birds had been flushed back into the trees, this time by an over zealous birder sadly lacking in the art of fieldcraft who had walked straight up the slope towards the birds, to enter the open field via a gate about a hundred yards further along the path and then sidling back using the scattered bushes as cover. I ensconced myself behind one of the bushes about halfway between where Mrs Caley stood behind the fence and the area where the Ring Ouzels were feeding before. When the birds reappeared some ten minutes later, they paid me no heed at all and one of the males and the female approached more closely allowing me to get some much better images.

I returned to Mrs Caley after the birds had once again been disturbed, by a Red Kite flying very closely overhead, happy with my views and photos. Ring Ouzels are never easy to approach closely owing to their choosing of open areas in which to feed. When perched in the scrub they chose the bushes that weren't visible from the closest paths. We had our year tick, #147 now, had had great views so were satisfied and decided to move on elsewhere. The carpark was beginning to fill up and walkers with and without dogs were flooding onto the hills once more. Ivinghoe Beacon at weekends, definitely has to be visited in the early morning.

Red Kite

Our next destination was to Startops reservoir, one of a group of three near Tring where a Little Gull had been present for a few days. We'd already seen a Little Gull at Farmoor a few weeks back, but that was way out in the middle of F2 so views were very distant. The reservoirs at Tring are small compared to Farmoor, the Little Gull had been showing much closer and I'd seen some really nice photos of it. When we reached the bank of Startops it had begun raining again and the brisk breeze had cooled the temperature somewhat, and I thought, not for the first time recently, if spring would ever start? I spent a good (bad) half hour searching through the myriad of Black-headed Gulls that were flying over or floating on the water. None of them turned into the desired Little Gull. 

Good numbers of Hirundines were active over the water too, mainly Sand Martins but with a few Swallows thrown in too. Photography was hopeless though, the dreary conditions not lending to capturing fast moving birds in flight. We walked on towards the adjacent Marsworth reservoir, a much nicer reed fringed body of water, where there were more Gulls and Hirundines. While watching the Sand Martins buzzing around I caught sight of our first House Martin of the year, just the one but still nice to see. Searching through the Black-headed Gulls again revealed a pair of Common Terns perched on one of the floating lines of buoys, also new for the year. The Terns didn't look best pleased that they'd chosen to come back to England in such awful weather.

Common Terns (& Black-headed Gull)

Mrs Caley said, "What's that Duck over there?". Of course she knew what it was, as did I as soon as I clapped eyes on it and saw the handsome drake Mandarin that swam towards us. On such a grey and grim morning when everything was monotonic, the rainbow of colours of the Mandarin positively radiated. And a massive and unexpected surprise for our #150th bird of the year.

Mandarin Duck

Seeing the Mandarin saved us a future trip out to see them although we were planning a trip soon out to the Forest of Dean where there are lots. As we walked back to the carpark I made another fruitless search for the Little Gull. 

I was happily spending the afternoon at home when a friend reported seeing some nice birds on a small flood next to a construction site alongside the M40 junction at Banbury. I didn't really have the inclination to go since it was raining heavily but one of the reported birds was a Ringed Plover which was still required for the year list. I was assured that you could pull up in a gateway that overlooked the flood so that we wouldn't even have to leave the warmth of the car to view. In reality a six-foot high metal fence meant that I did have to brave the elements in order to see the birds and I got wet again as I scanned the floods several times over looking for the Ringed Plover. I found four Green Sandpipers, a Little Ringed Plover, around six Yellow Wagtails, a Grey Wagtail and over twenty Pied Wagtails all enjoying the insect food on offer but didn't find the Ringed Plover. We'd see one somewhere soon though, I'm sure of that.

On a beautiful sunny Sunday morning we set off early on a single-minded (oxymoron), and single-bird mission, to deepest and beautiful Sussex. A rare North American bird, a White-throated Sparrow, had been found in a lovely and sleepy quintessentially English country village and had been present for a few days. Our good friend Mark had travelled down to look for the bird on Friday but it had proved elusive and didn't show. Since then a perceptive birder had rearranged the picnic tables that were situated in a small park next to an allotments and had put seed on one of the tables next to where the bird had been seen. The White-throated Sparrow had then readily taken advantage of the free handouts on Saturday and had shown extremely well. We arrived just after seven o'clock, a fine effort on our part, parked in the village of Barcombe Cross and took the ten minute walk through leafy lanes and sports fields to the allotment area. Halfway there we met a couple of birders walking back and having asked the "Is it showing?" question were met with the dreaded dispiriting reply "No sign and we've been here since before it was light". Aaarghhh!

We joined a throng of around thirty birders all of whom were intently staring at the picnic table that was on a small area of decking next to a small pond by a small area of woodland. Some benches had been placed under a fabulous old oak tree so we took a pew, it was very cathedral like under the tree, and settled in. The chap sat next to us then told us that he'd seen the Sparrow just five minutes before so it seemed that the two disconsolate birders had left just too early! Now we knew the bird was present it was just a case of waiting until it appeared. The area that the bird had been seen was studied earnestly but there was no sign. People, not me of course, began to doubt the sighting, but the chap remained adamant that he'd seen it. Attention began to wander and I looked elsewhere, at the blossom covered bush where the bird had been photographed a few days before and at the picnic bench with the scattered seed. After twenty-five minutes a bird flew in rapidly from the trees behind the pond and disappeared from view beneath the boarding where the bench was placed, probably just another Robin or Dunnock, but I kept watching under the table anyway. Two minutes later a bird appeared as if by magic under the table and lo and behold it was the White-throated Sparrow. I didn't have to call it because three-quarters of the assembled crowd were already clicking away with their own cameras. Some mega-rare birds are just little show-off show-stoppers!

White-throated Sparrow

The White-throated Sparrow hopped up onto the picnic table and picked at spilt seed. It vaguely resembled a mixture of Dunnock and House Sparrow, from the head down that is, being a blend of greys and browns, from the neck up though it was stunning. The crown was black and white striped with a broad white supercilium. At the front of that supercilium was a yellow patch either side of the bill. A very striking boat race indeed!

To all intents and purpose though, this wasn't a Sparrow but a Bunting and the White-throated Sparrow reminded me of the Little Buntings that I'd seen two weeks before. When feeding the wings were held slightly drooped and the long tail was held cocked at an angle. Face on, the white throat was very striking.

We noticed that Ewan and Peter, fellow Oxon birders, were also present and I nodded a good morning to them. The Sparrow (or Bunting) flew into a nearby tree and actually began to sing, a very surreal moment considering that this was a North American in Southern England.

Half an hour later the White-throated Sparrow reappeared, this time going straight to the table top and the pile of seed there. Although the photos wouldn't be so aesthetic with the birds feet stood on sunflower seeds, we had moved to a better position so that I was slightly closer and hence the images of the bird itself were improved. When the bird flitted off once more, we decided that the three views we'd had in just over an hour was good enough and left. We were up to #152 for the year and another step closer to the 400 mark for our life list.