Greylake sounds like a place where wizards would want to be seen, and a place where it might be good to see a wizard. Of a sort anyway.
We were last at the RSPB reserve at Greylake, set deep in the Somerset Levels and within view of the mystical Glastonbury Tor, at least it would be if it hadn't been so misty, to twitch a Baikal Teal. The rare duck species from Siberian climes had appeared agin this winter but had been much less reliable in its appearances. I hadn't come to purposely see the Teal anyway but obviously would happily take it if offered. I was mostly wanting an encounter with a little wizard of a bird, a female Merlin that had been gracing the wetlands for a month or more and which was offering superb opportunities to anybody, like me, who wanted to get some decent photos of a species that is usually tricky to observe at close quarters.
The fact that the carpark was rammed was proof to the Merlin's appeal. We had to wait for a few minutes for someone to vacate a space. I had feared that it would be busy. These days, any bird that shows well is popular, especially amongst bird photographers. Often I feel as if it's an odd craze to take photos of birds, particularly when multiple lenses are aimed at the same subject and everyone is getting the same shots. But it is harmless. Definitely a bit mad though.
The two small hides were also busy. In the first, an enclosed structure with a roof, door and windows there was nowhere to sit, or even stand where a view out was possible. The banks of Toggers had taken over all the prime seats and I half expected there to be the Prime Minister or a famous celebrity out on the marsh, smiling and waving at them. But of course although there was a celebrity, it was of the avian variety, and everybody wanted to see her. Mrs Caley did find a seat, graciously given up, but I remained at the back of the hide and unable to see anything much at all. I pondered while I'd bothered to come all this way just to look at the back of the peoples heads. My promise to be more cheerful this year was already being tested and the year was less than thirty-six hours old!
It wasn't too long before I suggested to Mrs Caley that we move to the other hide at the end of a short boardwalk. There was room there so at last I was able to look out and see what was around. The trade off was that this hide is an open structure and the chilly wind blew straight through it. Luckily we were well aware of the current wintry conditions so had dressed accordingly. Even so, it was mighty cold. This hide gives almost exactly the same views of the marshes but is slightly elevated which I think is better for seeing the birds but maybe less good if you want eye-level photography. It was from this hide that we saw the Baikal Teal back at the end of 2023. I checked through the ducks but there was no sign of it this time. I guess it must be feeding further out on the levels in some hidden spot with the main Teal flock since there were relatively few of those out there. There were Wigeon aplenty and a small flock of Pintail. Of course, everything was new for the year so all species, whether common such as Mallard and Mute Swan or scarce like the ringtail Hen Harrier that flew distantly across the reserve were eagerly logged. My camera stayed holstered except to take a couple of photos of a Lapwing that ventured close to the hide.
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| Lapwing |
We had been ensconced in the tiny wooden structure for almost an hour when the eagle-eyed birder who had earlier spotted the Hen Harrier, announced that there was a Merlin bombing across. I locked on to it quickly but was surprised to see a male flying past, rather than the expected female. It was pursued by a small squadron of small birds, probably Meadow Pipits. Unfortunately it didn't stop until it reached a distant gate, way out of range of my lens. The scope allowed for better views and it was evident that the Merlin was tucking into a late breakfast, likely one of the Pipits mates.
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| Merlin (male) |
The same chap, clearly accustomed to the comings and goings at the reserve, then announced that there was another Merlin. This time it was the female. She was stood on the top of a pollarded willow tree, much closer than the male was but still way too far out. Over the past month or so I'd seen lots of closeup shots of this bird so I was hopeful that she was merely keeping a lookout from the willow and would soon fly onto the marsh and show much better. For now though I was delighted to have seen two Merlins and a Hen Harrier this early in the year. Both species can be tricky to find and are very scarce in Oxfordshire.
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| Merlin (female) |
Our luck held. After fifteen minutes of standing sentry at the top of the willow, the female Merlin became animated again. Firstly she preened for a while then shifted to another willow. From there she suddenly launched into the air and flew right across the marsh, scattering everything in her path, including the Wigeon, even though they're clearly too big for a Merlin to tackle. I guess that the Merlin was trying to surprise any small bird that was busy feeding in the reeds or grasses. I later learned that she had perfected a low level assault on the Common Snipe and that they were her targets. The flight path and been direct and extremely fast. Too quick for me to capture. She'd completed her short flight before I even had time to lift the camera!
The Merlin had touched down, empty taloned just thirty metres or so away from the hide. Cameras all round went into overdrive. She was perched with her back to us but that allowed a good appreciation of the almost chocolate-brown coloured upper parts and the light beige barring on the tail. When the Merlin turned its head to one side, the keen black eye and small hooked grey bill illustrated, along with those talons, why this bird is a lean mean killing machine, albeit a pretty looking one.
A shift to the left by the Merlin exhibited the rich rufous streaking to the underparts and a full view of the pale yellow talons. I had never seen a female Merlin so well in all my years of birding and I now understood why this bird had proved so popular amongst birders and photographers. A chance to get a view like this of this beautiful little bird may never come around again.
The Merlin flew a short way to another of the vegetated bunds. I tried to capture it in flight but it was just too quick. All I managed to get a just about acceptable rear view shot of the wings and tails spread, as the bird alighted.
I cast my gaze to other birds on view, adding to the New Year list with almost every species seen. Generally, compared to our visit at the end of 2023, when we did see the ultra-rare Baikal Teal, the reserve was fairly quiet with only small numbers of birds present. We did see a Peregrine, a few Marsh Harriers, and a day-flying Barn Owl.
We could hear Bearded Tits pinging somewhere in the reedbed. We had heard some earlier too, but couldn't find them. We haven't had much luck with Beardies in recent years. Our last decent encounter with the species was nearby at Westhay Moor when we watched a whole flock taking grit offered. When a male presented itself at the top of a reed stem just a few metres from where the Merlin was stood, I feared for its, and the rest of its flock, lives. The Merlin was unmoved though. My attempts to photograph the brief appearance by the Bearded Tit failed miserably.
It was lunchtime so we walked back to the car to retrieve our expensive, but still cheaper than a cafe or pub, sandwich meal deal. For no reason whatsoever, we chose to go the long way around via the nature trail and ended up wading through ankle deep water for most of the way. I checked my phone and was staggered to see a report of a possible Least Sandpiper, and it was supposedly at Steart Marshes, just half an hour away from where we stood! Least Sandpiper is the smallest of all of the world's wading bird species and one that I obviously wanted to see. However, this was January, and I wondered why such a bird would be in the UK at this time. October yes, but surely not January. For the next half hour or so I checked various WhatsApp groups and Twitter but there was no more news of the bird. I then allowed my inherent cynicism to take over and foolishly (as it worked out later) dismissed the report as a misidentification. So after our lunch we headed back out onto the reserve, hoping to see some more Bearded Tits since a chap had told us that he'd been watching some taking grit from the path close to the hides.
An hour later we hadn't seen any of the pinging Reedlings but had been treated to another rapid flypast by the female Merlin. We tried the hide again and witnessed the Merlin perched in another part of the scrape but still offering herself up to the camera. I really do doubt that I'll ever see another like her.
There was time as we were walking away to grab a couple of shots of the little sorceress as she hurtled past us. Again not great photos but a record of the bird flying. As I've said I've never had many encounters with a Merlin before so this had been a good learning curve into how the species behaves and flies. Always useful to get sustained views of any bird.
Then, of course, the identity of the Least Sandpiper was confirmed as such. It was too late for us to travel over to the Somerset coast and see the bird before dark. Through my own stupidity in refusing to take the punt, I had missed out on a lifer. A female wizard is known as an enchantress, and the Merlin had certainly put us under a spell, but still we drove home feeling like we should have seen much more, and that I'd cursed the day. In the twitching game, you have to make snap decisions and to gamble. It often pays to take a chance, and really there is no harm in trying. But I didn't. Again. That's why I'm not a top twitcher!
