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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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!
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| 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.
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