Flashback #2; 2-3 July 2022

July 2022 was a hectic, bird filled month. It's normally a month where little moves, known as the doldrums in birding circles when birds have bred and young have fledged and second broods are started. However, despite the birds being there, they have stopped singing and become hard to see in the lush vegetation. Luckily for the twitcher and year lister, it's also a good month for seeing rare birds and especially waders since they start their long migrations southwards after breeding high up in the Arctic.

More Owling Around; 3rd June 2022

On our last full day in Northumberland, the weather forecasters promised strong winds and rain later in the day, and we weren't sure where to go or what to do. Nothing new of note had been reported so we decided that while the sun was shining and the wind was just a moderate breeze that we'd leave the cottage early and head back and see if we could see the Barn Owl that we'd found a few days ago. 

There was no sign of the Owl as we drove into the farm track and we wondered if we'd been too late in getting out again. Not that it mattered because we'd had such brilliant views of it the first time around. We drove back towards the road thinking we'd go and get some breakfast somewhere. Mrs Caley suddenly shouted, 'Stop!' and 'Back, there by the side of the road'. I reversed a short way and there to the right of us was the Barn Owl perched up in one of the trees. It was the male bird again, and was obviously using the vantage point to study the long grassy verge that lined the road. Or it could have been interested in the antics of a Hare that was legging it up the road towards us which didn't turn and scarper into the adjacent field until it had almost reached the car.

The Barn Owl had left its perch in the tree and was flying towards us so I hopped it out of the car and stood ready and primed to fire off more shots with my camera. Another few hundred more images of such a fabulous bird wouldn't hurt would it? The Owl knew we there of course, but didn't seem to care and just flew past, performing one mid-air stop as it did so when it looked straight down the barrel of my lens.

For the next hour and half we watched the Barn Owl much as we had a few days before. The Owl was very prolific in catching voles, we saw it snare at least eight, all carried back to the nest in a dead tree as before. I took lots of photos and present just a few here. This Barn Owl wasn't at all bothered by our presence at at times would stand on fence posts just twenty metres away.

It was the flight shots that occupied me for way over an hour again, with the Barn Owl treating us to such close flypasts it was impossible to resist taking more photos.

On this occasion the Owl tended to hunt in a field that was further away, particularly so when it had been successful in catching a rodent. From there it would fly back to its nest at greater distance from us than when it had been flying up and down the roadside earlier. It's flight path also took it on a route that was against the light (not that I ever use that as an excuse to mask my poor photography skills). I wanted to catch a few images of it carrying its prey so positioned myself nearer the nest tree, still a hundred metres or so away, but stayed in my car so as not to disturb the bird at all. The delivery of food to the hungry chicks is vital and far more important than my photos.

We had a chat with the local farmer who understandably was interested in what we were doing. He told us how he was really keen to promote wildlife on his farm and how he enjoyed seeing the Owls himself as he went about his work. As we were talking I could hear a Yellowhammer singing away close by but couldn't locate it. After the farmer had left us, the Yammer was still audible and I was surprised to see it singing its plaintive song whilst stood on the ground, usually they sit high in a bush to sing.

An Owl of a Surprise, and Dolphins Tern it on Too!; 1st June 2022

It had rained heavily overnight and the damp conditions had lasted into daylight so we made a leisurely start to our day enjoying a breakfast in our comfy but sparsely furnished cottage. We had a date on the Puffin Cruise boat for the afternoon when we would hopefully get to see some of the famous, and fabulous, Roseate Terns of Coquet Island. It had been light for well over three hours when we left the cottage, and we decided to head for the coast to see what we could find. 

The rain had passed and the morning was now bright and sunny. As we drove over a river bridge just past the small village of Chatton, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a familiar pale shape stop in mid air briefly before dropping like a stone into the grassy edge of a cultivated field. I automatically shouted, 'Barn Owl!'.

Fortunately a few metres further on there was a turning into a minor road that led right past the field where the Barn Owl had dropped onto the ground. As we pulled up into a grassy gateway we could see the Owl flying across the field towards a farm at the top of a small hill. We followed the road in the same direction as the Barn Owl but didn't see it anywhere near the buildings. We turned the car around and as I drove slowly back down the road we glimpsed the Barn Owl when it flew out from a dead tree close to the road. It was headed back towards the same field so we drove back to the gateway and waited. The bottom of the field was bordered by a stream which in turn was, thanks to a thoughtful farmer, flanked by a rough strip of long grass. A few minutes later the Barn Owl, a male, rounded a corner and emerged into view. It continued to fly directly towards us before settling to hunt over the same piece of ground that we'd initially seen it. The views we had of the Owl were unrivalled. Importantly the Barn Owl appeared to take no heed of us at all and continued sweeping back and forth over the long grass.

The Barn Owl was successful again but flew straight over the nearby trees denying me a shot of it carrying prey. It didn't reappear for ten minutes so we thought that we may have seen the last of it for the morning, we had been late going out after all. We drove back towards the farm and I was astonished when I noticed, through my rear view mirror, the Owl flying along the road behind us! I stopped, leapt out of the car and took a whole volley of shots as the bird passed by, and it was incredibly close too. There was no need for much cropping on those photos!

The Barnie alighted on a fence post just past another gateway so I pulled us in there and watched it from a respectable distance. After a while the Owl chose to fly into another grassy field but quickly disappeared from view. We returned to the original pull in and were once again treated to a superb bout of action when the Owl flew in once again around ten minutes later. It had been noticeable how wet the Barn Owl had gotten, through dropping into the wet grasses. It was probably because of the overnight rain, which must have made hunting impossible, or at the least very difficult, that the Owl was out so late gathering food for the young that it must have back at the nest. This was a male bird so the female would also be at the nest, tearing the food up for the youngsters. Despite several attempts and stoops into the long grass the Barn Owl wasn't successful while we watched.

The effort was obviously taxing on the Barn Owl and it gave up for a while and rested on top of a fence post again. This time it was facing us and offered great views and even moved to a more open post to allow me to get better shots. After five minutes of repose it was hunting once more and this time it caught some prey quickly and for the fourth time that morning had turned its back on me and sped away before I could capture the moment. I have great skill at missing the best action shots.

It was almost ten o'clock so when the Owl didn't reappear we headed off for a coffee and to the coast. After a second light breakfast we returned to the brilliantly named 'South Facing Hide' at Druridge Pools. There we had the misfortune of encountering one of the grumpiest birders ever. Is there anything that I can ever be top at? There is always someone better, or worse, than me! He was so miserable and unhelpful that after a while he actually made me laugh. So there was nothing forthcoming from him, except the odd grunt or two, and our initial questions remained unanswered. We had come back to see if the Channel Wagtail had been seen at all. Amazingly after just five minutes the Wagtail flew in and fed briefly in front of the hide anyway. The heat shimmer put paid to any good photography and the bird wouldn't count on our year list owing to it being a hybrid between two races of Yellow Wagtail but it was nice to see all the same.

If I ever have an appointment for anything, I am always early. I hate being late so we arrived in Amble ahead of our boat trip way before the sailing time. Amble looks a nice seaside town, a little run down maybe, but quaint. I remembered a superb ice-cream shop from a previous visit so spent a while there, alternating between brain freeze and belly ache from devouring a pint-sized tub of delicious gelato. The sea buckthorn flavour was amazing. We followed that up with a coffee, not that wise in hindsight, before walking out along the pier. Last time we walked on the pier, a pair of crab munching Eider ducks entertained us. This time the only Eiders were loafing on the other side of the River Coquet so not photogenic at all. We stared out at our destination in an hours time, Coquet Island, which was looking resplendent in the sunny conditions.

We did find a couple of Eiders loafing on rocks back at the harbour. The boat runs according to the state of the tides and that was clearly turning since after a while the Eiders had to vacate their temporary rest area and get swimming again.

The boat was boarded and we chugged out of the harbour, along the River Coquet and out into the open sea. The bright sunshine and clear views were completely opposite to our last trip, pre-pandemic, when it had been foggy. That time we had a Great Skua fly over the boat as we headed out towards the island, this time there was very little to entertain us. Until the skipper suddenly, but extremely nonchalantly, announced that, 'We have Dolphins!' I was taken aback and replayed the statement in my head before realising that he'd said, 'We have Dolphins!', and it took me a few seconds to react. Just off the starboard bow, swimming alongside the boat was a pod of Dolphins. I assume they were Bottle-nosed Dolphins but my cetacean ID skills are rudimentary to say the least so they could have been one of the other types that frequent the British coast. The skipper idled the engines and steadied the boat and we enjoyed fine views of the ten or so animals. Every time I see Dolphins up close, which isn't very often, I'm amazed at how big they are, the adults are maybe ten feet long, and how dynamic they are, they power through the water with consummate ease. Breaches, when the Dolphins hurtle completely clear of the water is what everybody wants to capture on the camera but I never quite managed it this time although I did come close a couple of times. It was a great thrill just to see the animals scything through the water. I wouldn't want to be a fish in the path of a hungry Dolphin.

The Dolphins left us alone having satisfied their own curiosity and I was reminded of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books, 'so long and thanks for all the fish!'. The boat trips are called Puffin Cruises for good reason since most people are most interested in Puffins. It's easy for seasoned birders like ourselves to become blasé about Puffins but there is no denying that they are distinctive, easily recognisable and fun little birds. Even folk who have never seen a Puffin in the flesh and feathers know what they look like owing to their uniform appeal and exposure in media. As the boat neared the island there were suddenly Puffins everywhere, sat on the sea or flying to and fro, whichever way you looked there were Puffins. And of course the Togger part of me just couldn't resist taking a few more photos of them even though I was hoping to see the much rarer seabird that I knew would be there on a specific part of the island later on.

After not really listening to the narrated history of the island and instead concentrating on the Terns that were now saturating the sky above, it was time to try and pick out some Roseate Terns which after all were the purpose of us being on the trip. There are usually a few loitering on the beach beneath the lighthouse but the small patch of sand had been taken over by a gang of Black-headed Gulls and the only Terns I could see there were Sandwich Terns. The skipper is able to get in fairly close to the rocks on the southern side of the island and that is where I managed to pick out a couple of Rosy's. The Roseate Terns are distinguishable from Common and Arctic Terns by having all black bills as opposed to red and a lovely pinkish hue to their breasts. It's more difficult to determine the identity of Terns in flight and on this occasion I just couldn't lock onto a Roseate at all. Three years ago I had taken some nice flight images of them but not this time. Unfortunately because the skipper had spent so much time indulging the other passengers with the Dolphin extravaganza there wasn't much time to dwell on the Roseate Tern side of the island either so before I knew it my chance had gone for another year. I was pleased to have got the few images that I did and happy to add one of Britains rarest seabirds to the year list.

As we left the island I couldn't resist taking a few more Puffin photos and I found a Guillemot that didn't fly away or dive under at the boats approach. Mainly though I kept searching through the Terns that flew in and out but just couldn't pin any more Rosy's down. Even when I fired the camera blindly at any Tern passing close enough by, I only managed to get Sandwich Terns. However, we'd be back for another try in future years so I wasn't too disappointed, and I had seen plenty before.

Year List addition;

226) Roseate Tern