Madeira 2: Bulwer’s Petrel

The main target species of the Windbird pelagic trips are Pterodroma petrels and Storm-petrels. But one of the many nice things about the trips is that the supporting cast of common seabird species is still interesting, from a European birding perspective. Bulwer’s Petrel is a very rare bird in north-west Europe but is common in the seas around Madeira.

Madeira, and the associated Desertas and Selvagens Islands, host between 6,000 and 10,000 pairs of Bulwer’s Petrel (Fisher & Flood, 2011). They breed during the northern summer, so at the time of our visit in late July and early August the majority of breeding pairs may well have been feeding chicks. At sea they were an abundant species. On the second of our pelagic trips Bulwer’s Petrel significantly outnumbered Cory’s Shearwaters.

Whilst silent at sea, on their breeding grounds Bulwer’s Petrel have a strange barking call, issued from the nesting burrow and from birds in flight:

[© James Bradley, XC407940. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/407940]

My first sighting of Bulwer’s Petrel was from Ponta da Cruz on a landbased seawatch, when one buoyantly glided and twisted past in calm conditions over a flat sea. At mid-distance the bird appeared completely black, the long slim wings and body being obvious. These are unique Nightjar-sized petrels. There is something of the Storm-petrel in some of their flight actions when they are sharply zipping about in high winds, although they are twice the size of most Storm-petrels. But when in travelling flight, powering down a trough parallel to the wave, there is almost something of the tringa waders in their flight action: the head is held above the body, the wings are elevated, quick flicks of the primaries power the bird forward. They have a distinctive flight action all of their own.

At sea, and with better light, more plumage details became apparent. The pale carpal bar was visible at mid-distance in good light:

The paler secondary coverts of the upperwing create the pale carpel bar. The closed tail is long and attenuated. The upperwing primary bases are dark, with no pale patches as is seen in the much smaller Swinhoe’s Storm-petrel:

The pale upperwing carpal bar is pretty much the only stand out plumage feature. The body, head, tail and underwing are to all intents completely dark, unless the views are exceptional and in perfect light.

The wedge-shaped tail, so often mentioned in field guides, was not so obvious in our experience. We only saw the wedge as birds braked hard to hover, before dropping onto prey items:

But all dark birds are not easy to photograph. The light levels become even more critical. And that’s before you add the fact that you are in a small boat in potentially heavy seas, trying to photograph a small bird zipping past at speed. Eventually, I figured out that to get the best pictures of this species I would need to wait until early evening, when the light was soft, on a day when the sea was relatively calm. I had to be low down in the boat, at eye level when the birds skimmed past. On our third afternoon at sea, such conditions presented themselves and finally, the results were satisfactory! At close range and in perfect light Bulwer’s Petrel has a dark, hooded appearance. The feathers of the head and neck are the blackest of all on this all dark bird:

In exceptional light and at close range the underwing primary bases can reflect light and appear silvery. But mostly, these are black seabirds.

Having enjoyed the common supporting cast, it was then time for the main act. Next: Pterodroma petrels

Madeira 1: Cory’s Shearwater

We spent last week on a volcano in the Atlantic Ocean: the fabulous island of Madeira. I was with my family and my parents, but with their consent I managed to negotiate three afternoons at sea on the Windbirds pelagic trips run by Hugo and Catarina. Like most endemic island birding, the total number of species recorded was small but specialised. So, for a change, I’m going to write up this trip by species, rather than day-by-day accounts. First, the most abundant seabird species, Cory’s Shearwater.

Madeira is home to some 3,000 pairs of Cory’s Shearwaters and whilst this is a common species, it was always a joy to see them, especially at close range.

Cory was an American ornithologist who first described the species. Madeira has long been a stronghold for Cory’s Shearwater. Throughout the nineteenth century an annual harvest of up to 30,000 chicks took place on the Selvagens Islands, some 267 km to the south of Madeira. The birds provided local meat, whilst their feathers were sold to England as eiderdown. In 1969, following the decimation of the species, hunting was banned. In the last fifty years, numbers of breeding Cory’s Shearwater have recovered significantly and it was the most abundant seabird species that we saw.

On our third day, I got an early morning bus out from the capital Funchal to the south-facing headland of Ponta da Cruz for a brief land-based seawatch. It felt appropriate to get some land-based views of Cory’s Shearwater, before heading out to sea. My short journey was so efficient and sunrise is so late in the tropics, that I arrived in total darkness at 6:45am. Over the next half hour the sky lightened and revealed flocks of resting Cory’s Shearwaters on the water. As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, they gradually took to the wing, passing Ponta da Cruz, all flying west. There was absolutely no wind and the sea was flat. The birds were in the middle distance so gave pretty good views. My first Bulwer’s Petrel appeared amongst them, a black shadow, all slim long wings and tail.

Ponta da Cruz, pre-dawn

Later in the week our family group ended up at Port Moniz, the far north-westerly point on the island. You know a site is good for seawatching, when there are notice boards with pelagic species on them positioned by the sea:

Below: “Oh, we appear to be at one of Madeira’s best sea-watching spots… and I just happen to have my ‘scope in the car!” Behind me are the famous natural swimming pools, where we spent the afternoon. The light was fabulous for seawatching here, Cory’s Shearwaters streamed past in the middle distance, glowing brown and white against a deep blue sea.

A short whale watching trip in Funchal harbour showed just how abundant and close to the shore Cory’s Shearwaters are in Madeira:

At night you can hear Cory’s Shearwaters calling everywhere, even close to the capital, Funchal. The higher-pitched calls of the male contrasting with the lower-pitched calls of the female:

[© Anthony McGeehan , XC489952. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/489952]

But it was the pelagic trips that brought the most memorable encounters with Cory’s Shearwater:

On one occasion, we spotted a huge feeding frenzy of Cory’s Shearwaters on the horizon to the south:

As we approached, with the Desertas Islands in the background, birds could be seen sitting on the water:

The latin name for Cory’s Shearwater is Calonectris borealis, literally “beautiful swimmer of the north”. This is a slightly surprising name for a species that is usually associated with flight, although after feeding and in calm conditions many were resting on the sea. From a distance, their size and grey-brown colouration combined with their large yellow/orange bill was slightly reminiscent of a seeing distant flock of Greylag Geese on the sea! Close up however, these are great birds.

Some birds had eaten so much, that they appeared to be in difficulty on the water. This bird was not bathing, it was just floating, partially submerged:

Cory’s Shearwaters have no crop, but like most birds have a large glandular forward stomach and a smaller rear stomach, the gizzard, where the more resistant undigested items are broken down, for example, squid beaks (see here). Hugo thought that the behaviour we were witnessing helped recently taken food settle in the glandular stomach before the birds could take off again. They certainly looked odd, either partially submerged or holding their wings outstretched, but then would happily take flight.

Cory’s Shearwaters have huge bills. The tip of the upper mandible curves right around to form a sharp hook. Presumably, this helps secure captured prey items, as well as being a fearsome cutting blade. Our close views allowed us to study the bill and tubes in detail:

Some birds passed within a few metres of us, giving point-blank views. Note the white crescents above and below the eye. Not the kind of detail that you get to see in UK waters very often.

Below, an uncropped shot from the boat, giving some idea of how just close these fabulous birds sailed past:

Cory’s Shearwater and Atlantic Spotted Dolphin.

Next: Bulwer’s Petrel.

Bird of the month: Hoopoe

This is an article that I wrote for the July 2019 edition of the Cumnor Village Magazine:

This month’s Bird of the Month is a summer holiday special: the Hoopoe. This is one of the most distinctive birds in the world. Hoopoes do not usually nest in the UK, but are found widely across most of Europe and Asia. Every year some reach England in the spring and summer. Some years there are a few dozen sightings, sometimes up to one hundred birds are recorded. In Oxfordshire the Hoopoe is a rare bird, with about 8 records in total. It is quite large bird, about the size of a Jay, but has a long downcurved bill and a fabulous crest. The wings and tail are boldly marked with black-and-white, whilst the head and back are cinnamon-pink.

Hoopoe, France, July 2012

In flight, the rounded wings are very obvious, flashing black and white. The wings have a slow-motion action in flight, leading to comparisons with a huge black-and-white butterfly flapping past. Despite this, Hoopoes are strong fliers. Most of the European population migrates across the Sahara to southern Africa, although a few birds remain in southern Spain or north Africa over the northern winter.

Hoopoe, France, July 2012

Like last months bird of the month, the Cuckoo, Hoopoes have an onomatopoeic name. Their simple repetitive song has led many human cultures to name this species after the sound that it sings in spring. In Afghanistan it is “poppoo”; in the middle east “hud-hud”; in Portugal “poup” and in English “hoopoe”. Phonetically the song is best written as “hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo”. It sounds as if one is blowing gently across the top of an open glass bottle.

Hoopoe, Oman, November 2015

For millennia Hoopoes have nested in holes, in trees or in cliffs. With the relatively recent development of human structures, Hoopoes have also taken to nesting in man-made cavities. This, combined with their distinctive and obvious appearance, means that Hoopoes have a long and rich association with human culture. The Hoopoe is an Egyptian hieroglyph, but also appeared to have a medicinal function. Mark Cocker (in “Birds and People” 2013) describes ancient Egyptian prescriptions that were smeared on the eyelids to inspire visions that contained Hoopoe blood as an ingredient. Cocker goes on to describe the broad-spectrum application of the Hoopoe for a wide range of ailments in mediaeval times:

“The left pinion is good for the man who is in thrall to his wife; Tie up the right shoulder in a piece of new rag… and hang it over a woman who is ill in her body and she shall have relief;  Dry its skull, macerate it in oil and rub it on any part of the body thou wishest and it shall destroy hair; Having salted the heart of this bird… give it to the woman whose child will not come from her. Let her grasp it in her left hand and the child will come from the womb straightaway”

The Hoopoe also has an important role in middle eastern culture. In the Qur’an the Prophet Muhammad forbids Muslims to kill the Hoopoe. The bird has an important status as a messenger between King Solomon and his bride-to-be, the Queen of Sheeba.

Remarkably, a Hoopoe has been recorded in Cumnor. Steve Heath has provided an account of finding this exotic species in April 2006: “I frequently used to take my dog for a walk down Leys Road to Bablock Hythe and particularly during the spring to look for migrants and early butterflies. The route has good views across Farmoor Reservoir and Wytham Woods to the north and passes through farmland flanked by hedgerows and some traditional hay meadows. Along this route lies Long Leys Farm. Over the years I had got to know the resident gardener Michael Collins. Walking my dog back home on the morning of 23rd April Michael remarked that he had seen an odd bird briefly around the Farm gardens the day before. Knowing Michael, I felt this was worth a look. After a fairly long search a Hoopoe came into view close to the orchard, at the rear of the house. The word was put out and several people managed to see the bird before it became elusive. It was not, to my knowledge seen again after the morning of 23rd April”.

A very wet Hoopoe, Sichuan, China, May 2016

If you are going on holiday into Europe this summer, watch out for this beautiful and distinctive bird. It can often be found feeding on the ground in sand dunes behind the beaches. If you are exceptionally lucky you could catch a glimpse of a Hoopoe in Oxfordshire, a dazzling flash of black, white, pink, crest and bill. Seeing a Hoopoe is always a moment to treasure.

Words and pictures by Tom Bedford. Many thanks to Steve Heath for his contribution.

Bernwood Emperors

I had a fabulous couple of hours at nearby Bernwood Forest this morning, with my daughters. Most of the common butterfly species were present, with the occasional White Admiral, abundant Ringlets (above) and the ever-present Silver-washed Fritillaries (below):

These are obvious, large and attractive butterflies, and bright orange to boot. I particularly like the way that the bulbous tips of their antennae are black with bright orange tips, perfectly matching their upper-wing colour.  As with moths, these antennae have a role to play in pheromone detection, light perception and balance.

Once again, I was struck by the acuity of the senses of my children. My youngest picked out this Roesel’s bush-cricket on sight, not sound:

Whilst my eldest found this camouflaged caterpillar (as yet unidentified) on a grass stem, as she walked past:

Nothing makes you feel older than children and their super-fine senses.

But the main purpose of our visit was to try to see some of the local Purple Emperor butterflies. We were not disappointed. Between 10 and 11am, small numbers were active, flying around the tops of the small oaks a short distance down the main track. Groups of up to 4 Purple Emperors, zipped and glided around the tree-tops, but were never in view long.  At 11:30 am one dropped down and spent some time on the back of the trousers of a fellow butterfly-watcher. We then headed back to the most reliable area in my experience, the car-park, to see if any were present. Almost immediately a male flew down and settled on the wheel of a parked car. I noticed that Purple Emporers also have glowing orange antennae tips:

It then moved to the ground and began probing with its proboscis, whilst those wings flashed purple:

It appeared to be taking up dust from the car-park into its proboscis:

These are fabulous, large butterflies that we always enjoy catching up with during their brief flight period in July. A superb morning!

Bird of the month: Cuckoo

This is an article that I wrote for the Cumnor Magazine for their June issue:

Although the traditional harbinger of spring, it is hard to argue that the Cuckoo is in fact a British bird. Cuckoos spend 9 months of the year in sub-Saharan tropical African forests, where the distinctive call that has led to their name, has never been heard. They winter as far south as Angola. In early March they begin their long flight north. Most British Cuckoos cross the Sahara, before flying over the Straits of Gibraltar, continuing north through Spain and France. In early April the first birds arrive in the UK and the males immediately begin singing their onomatopoetic song. Female Cuckoos do not sing “Cuck-oo”. Their call is a liquid bubbling sound, similar to the sound the last water makes as it drains from a sink.

The song of the male Cuckoo is far better known than the appearance of this large migrant bird. In flight, Cuckoos have a rather hawk-like appearance, with a long tail and rather pointed wings. From above they appear all grey, with a number of pale spots on each long dark brown tail feather:

From below, the pale breast with grey stripes running across it can be seen. Cuckoos have a well-patterned underwing, with a pale bar running across the wing and pale spots in the outer flight feathers:

Having attracted a female Cuckoo, this species then begins its famous breeding behaviour. Cuckoos are well known for not building their own nests, but rather they parasite the broods of other bird species. Over 120 species of bird have been recording raising Cuckoo chicks, but 90% of all Cuckoo eggs are laid in Reed Warbler, Meadow Pipit and Dunnock nests.

Cuckoos have evolved, quite remarkably, to lay eggs that match both the colour and size (breadth) of their host species’ eggs. This prevents the host species immediately realising that there is an alien egg in the nest and removing it. The first act of the Cuckoo chick, whilst still featherless and blind, is to push any other egg or chick out of the nest. The Cuckoo chick reverses up the side of the nest cup, with any unhatched eggs on its back, and tips them over the edge. Now an only-child, the Cuckoo benefits from the attention of both adult hosts. Quickly the chick dwarfs it’s host parents in size. They are unable to resist the bright yellow-orange gape of the huge chick and relentlessly keep feeding it. After fledging juvenile Cuckoos spend a few weeks feeding up in preparation for their long flight south. Like human juveniles, they are spottier than adults. Juvenile Cuckoos have pale edges and spots on most of their flight and back feathers:

The nature-nurture debate is conclusively settled in favour of nature, at least as regards Cuckoos. No young Cuckoo ever sees its parents. Unlike geese, the parents do not guide young birds on their first migration. Guided purely by genetically inherited instinct, each young Cuckoo finds its way back across Europe, across Africa, to the tropical forests of central-west Africa, alone. Some Cuckoos will not meet another member of their species until they return to the UK the following spring.

Unfortunately, the Cuckoo is in decline in UK. The latest research indicates that 40% of our Cuckoos have been lost since 1994, although in the last five years numbers have begun rising slightly (BTO 2018).  Cuckoos are dependent on large hairy, sometimes toxic, caterpillars, which are often avoided by other birds. Some species of Cuckoo have evolved a mucous membrane in their gizzard, to which the toxic hairs of the caterpillars they eat stick. Periodically, these membranes break off and are regurgitated, allowing the cuckoos to rid themselves of the toxins. In the UK, as moth and butterfly populations decline, so does the food supply for Cuckoos.

Globally, Cuckoos are widespread, with some 127 different species. Many are more brightly coloured and exotic than our Eurasian Cuckoo, for example this Diederic Cuckoo from Africa. But only one species calls its own name in that distinctive fashion, our own Eurasian Cuckoo.

Spring Moths 2019

We have been moth trapping at least weekly as we are contributing to the Garden Moth Scheme this year. Regular trapping in our garden in Headington, Oxford has increased our awareness of the seasonal change in moth species and numbers. Here are a few highlights of our catches in the period mid-March to 1st June. Let’s begin with some beauties!

Oak Beauty
Brindled Beauty
Male Muslin Moth
Female Emperor Moth, underwing
Female Emperor Moth, upperwing

A major highlight was our first Buff-tip for the garden (though we have seen them elsewhere). Everybody’s favourite moth, due to their amazing similarity to a broken silver birch twig, they just look fab from every angle:

Buff-tip

This could be the melanistic form of Tawny Marbled Minor. Distinguishing this species from Marbled Minor and Rufous Minor requires dissection of their genitals – not something that I am prepared to do!
My youngest daughter found this Coxcomb Prominent perched out in our garden.
Large Elephant Hawk Moth. Our first hawk moth this year was caught on 1st June. This is a pristine individual, presumably recently emerged.

Large Elephant Hawk Moth
Figure of Eighty. The first for our garden and the 13th new species so far this year. Bring on the summer!

Birds of the Lye Valley: spring 2019

In late March I began regularly visiting Warneford Meadow and Lye Valley to record the birds that I found there. The habitat is described here, but in essence, two small streams pass either side of the Churchill Hospital and form a “Y”-shaped green corridor that adjoins to Southfield Golf Course.

Between late March and late May, a total of 59 species of birds were recorded. This is a decent total for a city site that is not a large waterbody. Of course, not every bird present during this spring will have been recorded. My visits were generally early morning, which tends to reduce the chance of seeing some species, for example soaring raptors who depend on thermals. No scarce migrant passerines were recorded (for example, Wheatear, Redstart, Ring Ouzel) but all are possible.

Red-legged Partridge, Southfield Golf Course

The first surprise came on one of my very first visits when I found a pair of Red-legged Partridge on the golf course very early one morning. There cannot have been many partridge records from Oxford city itself. I heard one calling a few days later, but have not recorded this species since.

In terms of waterbirds, there was only the occasional fly-over Canada Goose flock to add to the local Mallards and Moorhens, both of which bred:

Mallard duckling, one of five on the Boundary Brook balancing pond.
Moorhen chick, on the same pond.

Grey Heron was recorded a couple of times in April, including one bird in the small pools in the Lye Valley:

Grey Heron, Lye Valley

Raptors recorded included Kestrel, which is a local breeder:

Male Kestrel, Boundary Brook valley

There was the occasional Sparrowhawk record, mainly from the golf course area:

Female Sparrowhawk

Red Kites are an abundant species in Oxford and frequently soar over the area. Some birds may roost in the taller trees in the site:

Red Kite, Southfield Golf Course
Red Kite, Lye Valley

On one occasion I disturbed a roosting Buzzard:

Common Buzzard, Boundary Brook valley.

However, raptor of the spring was a fabulous Hobby which flashed over the Golf Course on 18th May, apparently hunting Swifts. Corvid records included Jay, Magpie and Jackdaw, all of whom breed. The exceptional corvid record was a Rook, passing over on 12th April. Hirundines were only represented by two Swallow records: one on 22nd April and one on 2nd May (per Dave Lowe). The first Swift was seen on 18th May, House Martin has yet to be recorded this year!

Great Spotted and Green Woodpeckers are both local breeders:

Female Green Woodpecker

The four common Tit species all breed locally.

Male Great Tit, Warneford Meadow
Adult Long-tailed Tit, Boundary Brook Valley
Juvenile Long-tailed Tit, Warneford Meadow

Coal Tit is the least frequently encountered of the Tit species, but did breed in Boundary Brook valley:

Coal Tit, Boundary Brook Valley
Adult Coal Tit with food.

Five warbler species were recorded this spring (to date). Blackcap was the most abundant, with up to 15 singing males in late April:

Male Blackcap

Chiffchaff was also recorded on every visit, with at least three singing males and one confirmed breeding pair:

Chiffchaff, Boundary Brook Valley

There were only two Willow Warbler records in April, both singing birds that moved through:

Willow Warbler, Boundary Brook valley

I was pleasantly surprised to find a number of Whitethroat territories so deep in the city. The first bird was recorded on 20th April. Up to three singing males set up territories, but have recently stopped singing, so time will tell if they managed to attract a mate and breed:

Whitethroat, Warneford Meadow

The best trans-Saharan migrant recorded in the area was Lesser Whitethroat. A singing male was in a tiny garden in the housing estate behind the Lye Valley on 29th April. Another male was heard on the Golf Course in early May.

Male Lesser Whitethroat

This housing estate has a decent population of House Sparrows and Starlings, by modern standards. They no doubt benefit from the supply of insects and invertebrates in the nature reserve, which has SSSI status.

Male House Sparrow
Starling

The final Siskins were seen on 3rd April…

Male Siskin, Lye Valley

… whilst the first Reed Bunting returned on 7th May:

Male Reed Bunting, Lye Valley

Bird of the spring goes to a bird that I did not see, a Little Egret, photographed by Judy Webb on 9th May in the Lye Valley. I look forward to catching up with this species here, hopefully soon!

Little Egret, Lye Valley © Judy Webb

I used eBird to record my bird records, an illustrated summary of which can be seen here. Anyone (with a free eBird account) can contribute further sightings at the site, now that it is an eBird hotspot. 57 of the species were recorded by myself. Dave Lowe added one further species during his BTO Breeding Bird Survey at the site and Judy Webb contributed the final species, Little Egret.

Other wildlife recorded this spring:

Muntjac Deer were seen on virtually every visit, as were Rabbit and Grey Squirrel. There are signs of Badger too, though I have yet to see any animals. Occasionally I see Red Fox. This adult appeared as I was lining up a picture of the Muntjac behind it:

Male Muntjac and Red Fox, Boundary Brook Valley

I have no expertise of insects or butterflies, plus the early morning nature of my visits means that there is little if any, butterfly activity at dawn. However, some species stand out:

Cardinal Beetle, Boundary Brook Valley
Female Common Blue, Lye Valley
Small Copper, Warneford Meadow

Coming soon: my experience of using eBird and some analysis of the data using bird records from the Lye Valley.

The Lye Valley: a new patch

I have missed not having a local patch. Having spent eight years tramping around the fields of Cuddesdon, I really wanted a good nearby waterbody that would attract a wider selection of species, compared to farmland. I experimented with visiting some well known local sites, for example Farmoor and Otmoor, but found them either too well covered, or too large to cover in my limited avilable time. I also explored smaller water bodies further afield, but quickly realised that I needed a patch that was within walking distance of my house. 

So, over the last three months I have regularly visited a “Y”-shaped piece of land around the nearby Churchill Hospital in Headington, Oxford:

The habitat is varied, but is crammed into East Oxford, between the hospital and housing estates. It does have the advantage of being on top of a hill and has an adjoining golf course, whose open areas I still dream may attract passing migrants. The star of the show is the Lye Valley Nature Reserve. This remarkable piece of wet fenland is centuries old and is home to an incredible range of plants. These survive mainly thanks to the work done by the Friends of Lye Valley and their working parties, led by Dr Judy Webb. 

My usual route begins just off Old Road, Headington. I follow the Boundary Brook stream through the narrow strip of mature trees that survive between the new housing estate of Little Oxford and the University’s Old Road campus. The larger lime trees (I think) have many old woodpecker holes and are home to breeding Jackdaw, Stock Dove and Nuthatch:

As the stream passes the Churchill Hospital, there is a small balancing pond. This holds water draining from the hospital site, before it enters the Boundary Brook. The fantasy here: Water Rail. The reality: Moorhen.

I then do a circuit of Warneford Meadow, [1] on the map above. This open area, right on top of the hill, has scattered trees and nice shrubby hedgerows:

The fantasy here: Redstart. The reality: Meadow Pipit. 

I rejoin the Boundary Brook stream and work my way between the hospital and the golf course [2].  The small valley here is filled with alders:The fantasy here: Mealy Redpoll. The reality: Siskin.

Following this small valley south-east, one emerges on the hospital road to find what looks like the world’s largest mist net [3].  This is in fact a screen to protect the hospital from golf balls being aimed at the 18th green, in the foreground:

The Boundary Brook valley then runs alongside a small meadow at the south end of the hospital [4]: There are reeds on the edge of the meadow, which contains some strange man-made mounds. I have met hospital workers who remember that there were Nissen Huts here, left over from when this was an American base in the Second World War. Frighteningly, some were still used by the hospital for appointments, at least until the 1990s. The fantasy here: Black Redstart. The reality: Robin. 

I then head south, through the woods at the bottom of the Lye Valley and cross Southfield Golf Course [5]. I like the idea of birding the golf course, which is right on top of the ridge, with open grassy areas and scrubby patches. But there are a number of issues. Firstly, there is the possibility of being hit by golf balls:

Secondly, you may be suddenly doused by the watering system on the greens. Without warning sprinklers are turned on, which does not always make for relaxed birding: The fantasy here: Hoopoe. The reality: Pheasant. 

The furthest south I get is the scrub on the slope of the hill between the golf course and the Barracks Lane cycle track: The fantasy here: Nightingale. The reality: Blackcap. I do a circuit here, then retrace my steps back over the golf course to return to the Lye Valley proper [6]: Emerging from the woods, one finds small pools by the boardwalk at the bottom of the fen. From the top of the reserve [7] the stirling work done by volunteers to keep the fen free from encroachment by trees and shrubs can be seen: 

This spring I have really enjoyed my early morning birding in these narrow green corridors, between the hospital, the golf course and the houses. Coming soon: a summary of the birds seen here this spring: March, April and May 2019.

Bird of the Month: Northern Wheatear

This is an article I wrote for the Cumnor Village Magazine for their April 2019 edition:

A walk around the fields surrounding Cumnor this month could easily produce a sighting of one of the most remarkable migrant birds on earth: the Northern Wheatear. Wheatears are ground loving birds. They feed on insects and invertebrates found in short grass in exposed fields and meadows. They are attractive birds. Spring males have a black mask and a blue-grey back. But whilst most often seen on the ground they are most easily detected when they fly. Their lower back, just above the black tail, is pure white. When a Wheatear flies, the flash of white is very obvious.

Wheatears do not breed in Oxfordshire. The birds we see in the fields around Cumnor are pausing on their migration between their wintering grounds and their breeding grounds. The story of Wheatear migration is quite incredible. Every Wheatear on earth spends its winter in Africa, on the vast dry plains just south of the Sahara. This is their ancestral home. Their winter range stretches in a wide band across central Africa, from Mauritania in the west across to Sudan in the east.

Every spring, Northern Wheatears leave their wintering grounds and fly north in their millions. But unlike the Swallows, House Martins and warblers that migrate with them, most Wheatears do not finish their journey in England. In fact, for some birds their journey has only just begun. Some populations of Northern Wheatears continue across the UK and fly directly to Greenland and north-east Canada. Recent research has shown that these birds undertake a sea crossing of over 3,000km (1,500 miles) in a single flight. Quite an achievement for a bird that only weighs as much as four ten pence pieces.

Every autumn these Northern Wheaters repeat their epic journey and fly from Canada and Greenland, back to central Africa. They are one of very few bird species that breed in the new world, but winter in the old world. These populations are known as “Greenland Wheatears”. They have longer wings than the birds that breed in Europe, reflecting their much longer migrations. Greenland Wheatears are more richly coloured than European Northern Wheatears, often having rich, apricot-coloured underparts:

Probable Greenland Wheatear, Cuddesdon, April 2011

But Greenland Wheaters are not the most travelled Wheatears. The incredible migration of Greenland Wheatears from Africa, into Europe and then out across the Atlantic is dwarfed by the distances covered by their eastern cousins. Northern Wheatears that winter in east Africa breed right across northern Russia, and have even spread into Alaska. A single spring migration for these birds involves flying across Asia for some 15,000km (9,000 miles). They then raise young and depart the short northern summer for their African homeland, crossing half the world in order to do so.

The Northern Wheatears we see in Oxfordshire in autumn are a different colour to the birds seen in spring. They replace their breeding finery with their winter plumage, one suited to the dry brown shades of the plains of Africa:

Nothern Wheatear, Cuddesdon, August 2013

If you are out walking this month and flush a bird from the ground which shows a clean white rump as it flies, then you have probably found a Northern Wheatear. These birds like a view and often perch on rocks, mounds of earth or even hedgerows. Make the most of your views of them. For those very same birds could be in Greenland or Canada within days, having completed one of the most incredible flights of migration.

Northern Wheatear, Lundy Island, October 2010. 

Oxford Ornithological Society AGM and talk

I was honoured to be invited to talk at the AGM of the Oxford Ornithological Society last Wednesday, 8th May.  I recounted my experiences of birding the Oxfordshire green belt to a turn-out of over 50 members. Inevitably this also involved looking at the massive declines in farmland birds in the last 30 years and the role of intensive agriculture in these declines. But I tried to throw in a few jokes as well. Dr Alan Larkman, OOS Chairperson, then gave an excellent presentation about the valuable conservation efforts taking place on City Farm, near Eynsham. It was great to see some familiar, and some new, faces and to receive some positive feedback too. Special thanks to comrades Badger and Mark for their support.

It was also a pleasant surprise to come across this blog post from OOS secretary Barry Hudson the following morning. Thanks Barry!

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