Category: UK birding

A day on the Farnes

I spent Saturday on the Farne Islands with a friend and his father, who was visiting the UK from abroad. They had asked to see some UK birdlife and I reasoned that our breeding seabirds are one of this country’s most spectacular wildlife sights. Although cold overnight (3 degrees in May!), the cloud quickly dispersed and for most of the day we had sunshine and blue skies – which also means blue seas in our photographs, a real bonus.  

We travelled up to Northumberland on Friday, to a small town at the foot of the Cheviot Hills. I was delighted to find a breeding pair of Dipper under a bridge close to our house. Dawn on Saturday found us by the river, watching the comings and goings of thse fabulous birds:

Then, after breakfast, we drove to Seahouses to catch the boat to the Farne Islands.

Immediately there were birds and wildlife. This smart drake Eider was one of a small number in the harbour:

As we left the harbour, a series of distant splashes drew our attention to a distant pod of Bottlenose Dolphin in the bay:

As we approached the Farnes, the sheer number of seabirds around the islands became apparent:

There were vast numbers of Guillemots, smaller numbers of Puffins and Razorbills, with Kittiwakes circling above and Shags jump-diving for fish. A few of the Guillemots were of the bridled form, with smart white eyewear:

But it was always the Puffins that caught the eye. Seeing these birds close on the water in sunshine was a real treat:

We landed on Staple Island, where one can walk just a few meters from thousands of breeding seabirds. Shags were nest building and incubating all around us:

Razorbills were breeding too, but not in the same vast numbers as the Guillemots:

I have visited the Farnes before, in July 2011. It was fascinating to see the different behaviour of the birds at this time of  year, at a much earlier date in the breeding season. There were no birds bringing in fish, as no young had been hatched yet. Instead the Puffins were in courtship and burrow-claiming mode. Some birds had obviously been underground recently:

Whilst others ran around with beaks full of nesting material:

We saw a wide variety of social interactions between the Puffins. The bird below was actively defending a burrow entrance. Bill-gaping is antagonistic behaviour, revealing the birds bright yellow gape and tongue:

The left-hand bird of this pair approached the right-hand bird with a low-profile-walking display, before they began bowing to each other:

Then it was time for some portraits:

Getting flight pictures of Puffin takes some time, they are fast fliers. I eventually found a spot where I could look down on approaching Puffins, where the light was good and the sea appeared blue:

We left Staple Island at lunchtime and took the boat to Inner Farne.

This larger island has the breeding auks of Staple Island, but also many breeding terns, including Arctic, Common and Sandwhich Terns.  The Arctic Terns here are ridiculously tame:

This early in the season we saw little aggressive behaviour from the the Arctic Terns. In July one needed head protection to avoid birds diving at visitors on the walkways. 

The cliffs also held breeding Guillemots, plus a small number of bridled birds, my favourite form:

But even on Inner Farne, Puffins were everywhere. The numbers were astounding. They sat on open grassy areas, on buildings, on walls…

… even flying directly overhead:

The day finished, as it had begun, with a nice drake Eider:

We left the Arctic Terns and breeding seabirds and sailed back to Seahouses:

Visiting the Farne Islands in the breeding season is an almost overwhelming experience. The sheer number of breeding birds is a powerful assult on one’s senses, both sight and smell! But being surrounded by thousands of Puffins makes the day a very special encounter.

Chiltern Mandarins

In the absence of time to do any proper birding, a family walk in the Chilterns (about 20km outside of Oxfordshire) produced some nice autumn colours today in the shape of a flock of Mandarin. A non-native species, but one of the better looking ones. Continuing the non-native theme, there were quite a few Ring-necked Parakeet in the woods too, both species seem to be working their way west towards Oxfordshire: 

Devon 1: Start Point

I spent 90 minutes or so at Start Point on the morning of Thursday 23rd August. Start Point is in many ways reminiscent of Lundy, with its steep sides, lighthouse and lack of a good low level seawatching position. 

The sea held the expected species: 100s of Gannets passing south with 10s of Fulmars mixed in. 30 Balearic Shearwaters were the highlight, including this flock of 7; 10 Manx Shearwater were also seen, and 2 Common Dolphin slowly made their way south too. 

Whilst seawatching I was bombed by the local Peregrines…

… and a single Whimbrel passed low overhead, making me jump by calling loudly. Another Whimbrel on the way back was trumped by this flock of 16 Whimbrel that also flew south calling: 

Overhead passerine migration included a constant stream of Meadow Pipits, 1 Tree Pipit and 3 Yellow Wagtails. There was a nice birdy feel to the morning. As I approached the car park there was a view down to the “lost village” of Hallsands, the empty buildings visible on the seashore, taken by the sea: 

At the carpark Swallows gathered on the wires, feeding up for the push south over the Channel. Both adult Swallows (below) and juveniles (bottom) were present: 

Feeling the Fea: the 2001 Scillonian pelagic

In 2001, as an inexperienced birder who lived far inland, I decided that I needed to see some more seabirds. I had read reports from the Scillonian III pelagic trip in 2000 (see here) and was inspired. Sooty, Great and Cory’s Shearwaters, Sabine’s Gulls and European Storm Petrels were frequently seen on these all day trips from Penzance that headed south west into the Western Approaches of the Atlantic Ocean. But the Holy Grail was Wilson’s Petrel, which in recent years was being seen with increasing frequency. Not having the sort of job where I could drop everything and drive to Cornwall if the weather looked promising for seabird passage, such a trip seemed the best opportunity to maximise my chances of seeing some of the oceanic species of seabird on the British list. However, there was a downside. As the trip report from 2000 noted:

“The trip is not for the fainthearted. Many people refuse to set foot on the Scillonian fearing hours of sea-sickness for a brief moment of elation”.

Despite the warnings, I booked my place. In 2001 the Scillonian pelagic was scheduled for 12th August. Then five weeks before the trip, on 8th July 2001, news broke of a huge seabird event off the Scilly Isles. Bob Flood and Ashley Fisher were on their regular pelagic trip from St Marys when a pterodroma petrel was attracted to the chum slick they had dispersed behind their boat. It passed close enough to be seen extremely well and good quality photographs were taken. It was conclusively identified as a Fea’s Petrel, the first accepted British record:

Fea’s Petrel is an extremely rare seabird in British waters. Between 1950 and 2000 there had been just 21 accepted records and none of these could be identified to species level. Instead such sightings were lumped together as “Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel”. These birds are the only northern hemisphere representatives of the Soft-plumaged Petrel group of the southern hemisphere.

Thanks to the experience and skill of the observers, combined with the excellent photographs, the bird seen off Scilly in July 2001 was identified as Britain’s first ever Fea’s Petrel. For those of us waiting to head out into the Atlantic on the Scillonian III in mid-August, this generated mixed feelings. Rare seabird events are, by definition, exceptional. It felt like the big seabird moment of 2001 had happened some five weeks before I would be anywhere near the ocean.

The weekend of 11th and 12th August arrived and I drove down from Oxford to Penzance on the Saturday, an horrendous journey that took nearly 12 hours with the roads filled with stationary holiday traffic. I had fish and chips in Penzance then tried to have an early night at my B&B, near the docks.

It was cloudy and windy as I awoke at 4:30am and forced down some breakfast. I couldn’t quite bring myself to take some seasickness pills, even though I knew that they took 2 hours to work. It was a reflection of my inexperience with the sea that I decided that I would see how conditions were and would then take the medication as required. This was to prove a costly and traumatic decision.

I queued up in the dark and boarded the Scillonian III at 5am. We left Penzance at 5:30am and as soon as we were clear of the mainland, the extent of the swell became apparent. The wind picked up and loud crashes could be heard from the bar and dinning areas as glasses and cutlery were thrown around and smashed. I began to wonder if this was normal for a pelagic trip. After 45 minutes I was feeling terrible. Being outside and looking at the horizon did not help at all. The horizon was thrashing around all over the place as the boat crashed through the swell. Frequently we could hear a loud juddering roar as the propellers were lifted out of the water as the boat pitched violently forward. The smell of the diesel fumes nearly brought up my breakfast. I forced down some seasickness tablets with some water. The complete lack of any seabirds seemed to be upsetting some people, but I had more important things on my mind: I had turned green and I felt like I was going to die.

At 6:45 the inevitable happened. I rushed into the toilets. Every cubicle was locked and the occupant of each cubicle was lying on the floor with their legs protruding out from under the door. As the boat rolled from side to side a large slick of vomit washed from one side of the toilets to the other, coating the legs of the prostrate occupants in stomach contents. I grabbed hold of an urinal, prayed to a God that I did not previously believe to exist, and violently threw up. In a stunned state I opened my eyes slightly and to my horror I saw two, mostly undigested, seasickness tablets, smiling back at me from the urinal. I had thrown up the only two things that were going to make me feel human again.

I crawled back through the vomit lake and managed to get back to my seat, despite the ship pitching and rolling like a roller coaster. I looked out of the porthole next to me and saw my first European Storm Petrels, flying alongside the ship. Never has a British tick had so little feeling attached to it. I forced down more two seasickness tablets, then two more, just in case. I had lost all interest in birding, I was exhausted, covered in vomit and most of it was not mine. The thought occurred to me that there were 15 hours remaining before we were to dock in Penzance. I wondered how I was going to survive this experience.

Fortunately for me the only major side-effect of taking an overdose of seasickness tablets was fatigue. With a recommended dosage of 2 in 24 hours, I had taken 6 in 2 hours, although not all of these were digested. As a result, I passed out in my seat.

I am woken a little while later by a tannoy announcement: “Sabine’s Gull behind the fishing boat at 3 o’clock”. I jump to my feet, but instantly feel violently sick, so I sink back into my seat. I let the Sabine’s Gull go, feeling disappointed as it would have been my first.

By now there are people being sick everywhere. Some hunch over sick bags, some find the downwind rail of the ship. Some attempt to enter the toilets, but it resembles a scene from hell, bodies and vomit were everywhere. And yet, others are not only coping but are birding on the stern of the ship. How anyone could manage that was completely beyond me.  Very few birds were seen during the first eight hours of the trip, fortunately for me as I was incapable of getting up to see them. There was talk of this being the worst pelagic trip in British birding history.

For the next few hours I drift into and out of consciousness, sometimes sleeping, sometimes vomiting. Gradually the winds and swell recede slightly, the seasickness medication finally begins to work and I manage to eat something. Around lunchtime, I feel brave enough to go out on deck and to try to begin birding. We are now at our destination – a featureless piece of the Atlantic, known as the Wilson’s Triangle. Chumming begins, a mixture of rotting fish and fish oils are dumped from the ship, as pelagic bird species are attracted by the appalling smell. I was at the side of the boat, about half way along, reasoning that the centre of the ship moves less than the stern or bow. This position also protected me from the smell of the chum.

The chum began to work its magic. Appearing out of nowhere, bird numbers began to build up. Several hundred Gannets wheel around, plunge diving for larger pieces of chum. European Storm Petrels were everywhere, zipping and flittering over the surface of the sea. Perhaps 200 birds were present. We scanned through them in the hope of a glimpse of a Wilson’s Petrel.

A second Sabine’s Gull was called from the other side of the ship, but I didn’t make it round in time to get onto it. Then my side of the boat had a treat, a Great Shearwater did a close pass, giving fantastic views.

At just after 14:30 there was a tannoy announcement that will stay with me forever: “Soft-plumaged Petrel in the wake!”. I had no idea what this meant. All I knew was that there was a bird so rare that I had not even heard of it, somewhere behind the boat that I was standing on. Simultaneously, every single birder tried to get to the stern of the Scillonian III.

The wake behind the Scillonian III, 12th August 2001 © Tom Bedford

If my senses were working, rather than having been dulled by sleep deprivation, eight hours of vomiting and recurrent seasickness tablet overdoses, then I would have quickly worked out that the bird following the ship was a Fea’s Petrel, one of the Soft-plumaged Petrel group. As it turned out, it was the very same bird seen from the Scilly pelagic five weeks beforehand.

I began scanning through the mass of feeding seabirds in the wake of the ship, just looking for something, anything, different. I got lucky. After ten seconds I got onto a pale grey and white seabird that, as I watched, looped up from just above the sea, wheeled up high above the horizon before skimming back down low over the sea again. I saw the dark “M” across the upperwing and the white body contrasting with the dark underwing.  And then it was gone.

© British Birds 99, August 2006,  p402.

My notes from 12th August 2001, including attempts at recording the bird’s distinctive flight pattern.

There was a moment of silence and then a spontaneous outbreak of joy and applause from those birders that had seen the Fea’s Petrel. Strangers high-fived and shook hands. Unfortunately, only about half the birders on the boat had connected with the bird. They need not have worried. Almost immediately the Fea’s Petrel was located again off the side of the ship, whereupon it proceeded to give a close fly-by down the entire starboard side. As it glided past us, just below eye level, there was complete silence on board, as everyone drunk in dream views of a dream bird. In fact, the Fea’s Petrel remained around the ship for one hour and 15 minutes, still the longest ever viewing of this species in British waters.

2 Wilson’s Petrels were then located, pretty much simultaneously at the front and rear of the boat. The tannoy announced “Wilson’s Petrel with the Soft-plumaged Petrel at 3 o’clock” and was greeted with delirious, incredulous laughter. We could not believe what was playing out in front of us. We had suffered so much, but the rewards had been incredible. At 16:30 we began our return journey. The sea was flat and the sun was shining. The horror of the morning was behind us, we all knew we had experienced something pretty special.

Calm scenes on the upper deck of the Scillonian III on the return journey © Tom Bedford

Postscript:

Just four days later, back home in Oxfordshire, Nic Hallam found a superb adult Sabine’s Gull at Farmoor, only the second record for the county. Even better, it stayed for three days and I saw it. At 25 metres range in lovely evening sunlight. Somehow, pulling back an adult Sabine’s Gull so soon after missing two from the Scillonian III pelagic just added to the magic of the Scillonian experience.

The bird seen from the Scillonian on 12th August was written up and accepted before the record of the bird from Scilly on July 8th 2001, so for a short period it was the first Fea’s Petrel for Britain:

James Lees’s account of the Scillonian III Fea’s Petrel in British Birds:

Since 2001 records of Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel have been almost annual. There were no records in 2006 and 2012, but 6 records in 2009 and 7 in 2013. Most years see just one or two accepted records: 

Contemporary pterodroma identification: Cape Verde Fea’s, Desertas Fea’s or Zino’s Petrel?

To date, there are just 6 accepted species level records of Fea’s Petrel (as opposed to the lumped Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel group):

2001 Isle of Scilly (July 8th, see above)

2001 Western Approaches (August 12th, the Scillonian III bird)

2004 Isles of Scilly

2014 Easington, Yorkshire

2014 Isles of Scilly

2015 Isles of Scilly

There is also a pending record from 2008 of a bird 10km NW of the Galway coast. It is no coincidence that 6 of these 7 records are from pelagic trips. These give a better chance of a close approach and provide the opportunity to gain photographs to allow species level identification of this difficult group. Species specific identification of Fea’s-type petrels is extremely difficult, as addressed in this article by Bob Flood:

The future? 

With Fea’s Petrel firmly on the radar of British birding community, the new pterodroma holy grail of UK seawatching is probably either Zino’s Petrel or Bermuda Petrel. The latter has already come tantalising close to Ireland, see here. Both species have tiny breeding populations and are globally endangered. There have also been some quite remarkable reports of pterodroma petrels, from much further afield. Birds bearing resemblances to Atlantic and Trindade Petrels have been reported on a number of occasions (including this year from Cornwall). There is also a well discussed bird, widely thought to be a Herald Petrel, seen from Dungeness in January 1998:

Finally, if a lucky birder finds a Fea’s-type pterodroma petrel in British waters, they must also eliminate the possibility of Soft-plumaged Petrel, after this outrageous record of a southern hemisphere pterodroma species in the high arctic. The attraction of these magnificent seabirds is partly their  ability to travel vast distances. The challenge for the lucky finder is getting adequate documentation of birds that often pass at distance and at speed. As the BBRC Herald Petrel article notes, a change in seabirding culture towards pelagic trips will help with closer views and allow better photographs to be taken. It is then just a matter of huge luck and of surviving the trip if the weather is inclement!

The Big Blue: the new Abingdon super-reservoir

And still they torture us with talk of an enormous reservoir near Abingdon:

http://www.oxfordmail.co.uk/news/16393158.abingdon-reservoir-ed-vaizey-demands-second-consultation/

I see the future of Oxfordshire birding… and the future is good!

The new Handbook of Western Palearctic Birds

The fabulous new two volume Handbook of Western Palearctic Birds, by two giants of Western Palearctic bird identification Hadoram Shirihai and Lars Svensson,  arrived today. This was a bit of a surprise as the advertised release date was July 26th, but I am not complaining, as it appears to be superb: 

It is a photographic guide, but one with forensic attention to detail, covering all plumages for all age groups, as well as examining subspecies and geographic variation. Usually looking at a photographic field guide involves looking at other people’s pictures – but not this time! Back in 2008, having just returned from a trip to Morocco with Richard Campey, I read a request for pictures of certain species and plumages advertised in (the now extinct) Birding World. I sent in two pictures. Producing two volumes with such a wealth of detail obviously takes time, so it was ten years later that I received confirmation that both images have been included. There are 5,000 fabulous photographs across the two volumes but I went straight to page 469 and page 506, where my female Western Subalpine Warbler… 

… and my Western Olivaceous Warbler (now re-named Isabelline Warbler) awaited me. 

It was also a novel experience getting payment for a picture. At £25 a photo (assuming all photographers were paid the same amount) the photographic costs alone of the two volumes must be in the region of £125,000. The book will have provided a useful spike in income for some well-known bird photographers. It is expected that this book will become the standard identification text for the region for years to come, which combined with the photographic costs, may explain the RRP of £150. I have only flicked through both volumes, but already I would recommend it to anyone. Especially pages 496 and 506  🙂

No “wheet-wheet”? More on the Oxford Iberian Chiffchaff song

A recording of the Oxford Iberian Chiffchaff is now on Xeno-Canto [David Darrell-Lambert, XC411346. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/411346]:

 

Mick Cunningham made a comment, here, about the Oxford bird perhaps lacking the “wheeet-wheeet” part of the song typically heard by Iberian Chiffchaff. Now we have a recording and a sonogram from Xeno-Canto, I can hear and see what he means. Firstly, listen to an Iberian Chiffchaff recorded in Spain [Luis Gracia, XC409152. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/409152].

 

From having listened to a dozen recordings from Spain, to my ear there are three parts to a typical Iberian Chiffchaff song, always in this order:

  1. The “chiff-chaff” part.
  2. The “wheet-wheet” part.
  3. The rapid sequence of descending notes at the end.

We can see these on the sonogram of the bird recorded in Spain (labelled by me):

The Oxford bird’s sonogram looks like this (again, labelled by me):

To my ear, and from the sonogram, there is no “wheet-wheet” middle part to the song of the Oxford bird. Now, I am no expert on bird song, sonograms or Iberian Chiffchaffs. In fact I actively want this bird to be an Iberian Chifchaff for deeply held personal reasons: I have not seen one in Oxfordshire before. But I have not found a recording on Xeno-canto of Iberian Chiffchaff from Spain that does not have at least one “wheet-wheet” in the middle section. Admittedly, I have not listened to all the recordings, I have a family to keep happy and full time job. But somebody out there with more time and expertise must be able to help!

To my mind, this leaves four possible options:

  1. The Oxford bird is an Iberian Chiffchaff with a variant song that I have not come across in online recordings.
  2. The Oxford bird is an Iberian Chiffchaff with an atypical song (see also this video of the bird singing, again without the “wheet-wheet” part)
  3. The Oxford bird is not an Iberian Chiffchaff (what it is, is another matter – a hybrid, a collybita with a misspent youth in Spain, who knows?)
  4. I should spend more time on my day job.

You decide! Thanks again to Mick Cunningham for noticing this feature.

Oxford Iberian Chiffchaff: some thoughts on the song

The excitement of seeing Oxfordshire’s second Iberian Chiffchaff on Monday evening was tempered by two things: firstly, it was cold and windy, so the bird was rather secretive and the light was terrible; secondly, by the fact that whilst the bird was producing lots of classic Iberian Chiffchaff song, up to half of the song that we (Dave Lowe, Andy Last, Ian Reid and myself) heard that evening from this bird appeared to be similar to that of Common Chiffchaff. This raised the question in my mind of whether this bird could be a mixed singer?

Iberian Chiffchaff, unlike Common Chiffchaff, has different advertising and conflict songs:

“In the context of spring vagrancy, Iberian Chiffchaff has two major song types: an advertising song used by males trying to attract a mate and a conflict song used primarily during antagonistic interactions with other males. The same is true of Common Chiffchaff, although in that species the advertising and conflict songs are virtually identical. The conflict song of Iberian is very similar to that of Common but the advertising song is more variable and contains song elements not used by Common Chiffchaff“. (Collinson and Melling 2008)

I trawled through Xeno Canto to try to find some examples of both the conflict and advertising songs of Iberian Chiffchaff.

Iberian Chiffchaff advertising song from Iberia. [Luis Gracia, XC409152. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/409152] This is the well known song of Iberian Chiffchaff:

 

Possible Iberian Chiffchaff conflict song from Iberia. [Paulo Alves, XC304478. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/304478]. Similar, but not identical to, the song of Common Chiffchaff:

 

Common Chiffchaff, from the UK. [Frank Lambert, XC324041. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/324041]. Advertising and conflict songs are identical in Common Chiffchaff:

 

Collinson and Melling state that “the definition of a ‘mixed singer’ is reserved for those birds that use song elements characteristic of both Iberian and Common Chiffchaff within a single advertising song“. This was not something that we heard on Monday evening. The Iberian Chiffchaff was either in full “Iberian mode” or reverted to a song similar to Common Chiffchaff. Bearing in mind the above, this was probably Iberian Chiffchaff conflict song. Once again, an instructive experience with a great bird, though it would be interesting to see someone address this issue properly with sonograms taken from recordings of this bird.

Black-necked Grebe records in Oxfordshire 2000-2013

This is an article that I wrote for the Oxon Birding website, as part of the March 2018 bird news update:

Black-necked Grebe is a scarce passage and winter visitor to Oxfordshire but has been recorded in every month of the year and in every year during this period, except for 2008, when there were no records in the county. Scanning a reservoir or gravel pit in spring and finding a summer-plumaged Black-necked Grebe may be the highlight of spring migration for birders in a land-locked county such as Oxfordshire. This article looks at the pattern of occurrence for Black-necked Grebe in the 14 years from 2000 to 2013 inclusive.

As many observers can submit records for each individual bird present, using the total number of records per year on the OOS database does not provide an accurate reflection of the actual number of birds present. The table below was calculated by examining the OOS reports from 2000-2013 and determining the likely number of birds present in each month, rather than the total of submitted observer records. A conservative approach to numbers was taken if birds were reported from nearby locations on consecutive dates, so the real numbers of birds involved may well be higher than this estimate. Figure 1 shows, for example, that there has been a total of 5 Black-necked Grebes recorded in the month January in the years 2000-2013:

 

Spring records:

There is a clear spike in records beginning in March and increasing in April. These records are of wintering birds returning to their breeding grounds in northern and central England. Black-necked Grebes were recorded in the month of March in three years and in the month of April in six years during the fourteen-year period between 2000 and 2013. There were cumulative totals of 9 birds recorded in March and 18 in April (see figure 1). Birds recorded in early March, such as the birds pictured below at Dix Pit on 7th March 2018, are in predominantly winter plumage. By the end of April most Black-necked Grebes will be in full breeding plumage.

However, the totals for March and April are inflated by two significant flocks of Black-necked Grebes: 5 birds together at Dix Pit on 6th March 2002 and 7 summer plumaged birds together at Farmoor Reservoir on 27th April 2012. Some of these birds remained for a number of days and gave fabulous views, even performing courtship displays on occasions:

 

Breeding season records:

There is only one May record (of two birds on 24th May 2013 at Farmoor) and a single record from June: a bird in full breeding plumage seen at Standlake on 4th June 2000. This is the only June record of Black-necked Grebe in Oxfordshire (OOS Annual Report, 2000) and at time of year when breeding birds are usually on territory, hence the paucity of Oxfordshire records in early summer. This bird could have been a very early failed breeder, but perhaps is more likely to have been a breeding bird dispersing in search of potential nesting habitat. This species is noted for “widespread aerial reconnaissance” (CBWP).

Post-breeding records: 

The gradual increase in records from July through to September correlates with the arrival of failed breeders and post-breeding dispersal. Failed breeders may leave breeding ponds as early as July, whilst post-breeding dispersal typically occurs from mid-August (Migration Atlas, BTO). This accounts for the gradual rise in Oxfordshire records in the autumn period. In eight of the fourteen years analysed Black-necked Grebes were recorded in September, making this the most productive month overall for records in Oxfordshire, even though the overall number of birds found in September, sixteen, is eclipsed by the total found in April, eighteen.

Winter records: 

In the western palearctic Black-necked Grebes winter within the breeding range, with movements to the coast when inland water-bodies freeze. CBWP states that most birds are on their wintering grounds by November and that the UK wintering population may receive birds from continental Europe that shelter in the estuaries and inland water bodies of south-east England. Winter records in Oxfordshire increase from October to December (see figure 1) and could conceivably be from both Black-necked Grebes that breed in the UK or from birds that have migrated to southern England from breeding grounds in continental Europe.

A global footnote:

The movements described above are trivial compared to the migration of Black-necked Grebe in other parts of its global range. Hundreds of thousands of Black-necked Grebes are thought to winter in the south Caspian Sea off the coast of Iran, with tens of thousands on Turkish lakes in winter (BTO, Migration Atlas).

In North America nearly 1.5 million Eared Grebes (the name by which Black-necked Grebes are known in the west) migrate to Lake Mono in California where the adults undergo a complete moult and the juvenile birds a partial moult. The birds at Lake Mono more than double their weight on their autumn staging grounds, their chest muscles shrink as their bodies favour rapid fat deposition. Eared Grebes are rendered flightless during this period and are flightless for up to 9 or 10 months of the year, the longest flightless periods for any species bird capable of flight in the world (Cornell 2017). Eventually the brine shrimp population, on which the vast numbers of grebes feed, collapses.  The grebes, by now having completed their moult,  migrate to the coast at night. The nocturnal movements of so many birds can leave them prone to severe weather-related incidents, such as this report of some 4,000 Eared Grebes that landed in a Walmart car park in a storm in Utah in December 2011. In Europe both diurnal and nocturnal migration of Black-necked Grebe has been recorded, in contrast to the purely nocturnal migration of Eared Grebe in North America (Migration Atlas, BTO).

References:

“Bird Atlas 2007-2011”, BTO, 2013.

“The Birds of the Western Palearctic”, concise edition (CWBP); Snow & Perrins; OUP 1998.

“The Migration Atlas”, BTO, 2002.

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology; “Eared Grebe” website; 2017;  [https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Eared_Grebe/overview]

Weblinks to news items on the mass downing of thousands of Eared Grebes in Utah in 2011:

https://www.ksl.com/?sid=18498424

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/more-than-4000-birds-crash-land-in-parking-lot/

Hawmageddon!

The unprecedented numbers of Hawfinch in southern England are now well documented, but this week I came across reports of a huge Hawfinch flock near Box Hill in Surrey, totalling at least 250 birds.  These birds were found by Steve Gale who also got Peter Alfrey in on the act. Peter’s account of coming across this mega-flock of hundreds of Hawfinch is well worth a read and is here. Realising that this may be a once in a lifetime experience to see a huge Hawfinch flock in the UK I visited Ashurst Rough Wood, just east of Box Hill Country Park, this morning. There are a number of wooded hills in the area, with stands of Juniper among the deciduous trees:

As I made my way up to the local high point of Juniper Top I could hear Hawfinch calling in the woods, I had brief glimpses of 2 flying birds and found another pair perched up in bare branches. Most of the birds were lower down, feeding and flying between Ashurst Rough Wood and Bramblehall Wood. This valley was bursting with Hawfinch activity! I spent 90 minutes here and there was hardly a moment when I was not watching or listening to Hawfinches. Birds would fly between the two woods, sometimes as individuals…

.. but often in small flocks:

Occasionally larger flocks of birds, one nearly 50 birds strong, would swirl around the tree tops, or fly across the valley:

One such flock passed right overhead and the birds settled in the treetops, high up on the slope behind me. The woods were then filled with the calls of vocal Hawfinches, both the hard “ptik” call and the softer “zih” call. The sound of calling Hawfinches drowned out all other birdsong, was I really in England?! Scanning through the treetops also revealed flocks of Hawfinches perched up in bare branches before they dropped down to feed:

I estimated that I saw around 150 Hawfinch in total, based on counts as the small flocks gradually made their way south down the valley. However, with so many flocks swirling around the true number could easily be significantly higher. The views of the birds were usually in the medium distance and always in flight or perched, I saw no birds on the ground. However, this was a fabulous birding experience, 90 minutes of continuous Hawfinch activity, at times I felt surrounded Hawfinches, both in sight and in sound. Just incredible!

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