Author: martin

Today was winter bird race day. A simple enough task – find and positively identify as many different bird species as you can in one day in Northumberland. Teams have four members and three must record a species for it to be added to the list. Then, the day is rounded off with an enjoyable social gathering at the pub as each team declares their total for the day; what was missed and shouldn’t have been? what was found unexpectedly?

Our team had had no pre-planning or preparation so were weren’t exactly brimming with confidence. The tremulous hooting of (1) Tawny Owl at 07:00 and the flight calls of distant (101) Pink-footed Geese at 17:00 bookended our 2009 challenge, with gems such as Kingfisher, Nuthatch and Peregrine in between. Two teams failed to reach treble figures on a bitterly cold day when a lot of ‘easy’ birds didn’t appear on a number of lists, and the winning total of 113 (congratulations to Tom, Muriel, Neil and John) was 13 species shy of the Northumberland January record. Here’s to 2010 and the next one (of course there’s the May bird race as well, but that’s a very serious 24 hours of birding and a whole different kettle of fish).

New Year’s Eve was spent at The Swan, always an enjoyable location to see out the old year and see in the new and somewhere that we were given so much help and advice when we decided to start NEWT; it’s hard to believe that only a year ago we were yet to embark on the first Northern Experience Wildlife Tour. 1am on New Year’s Day 2009 saw me contemplating a glass of Malbec, a glass of Bushmills and a glass of Moet…9am on New Year’s Day, in contrast, saw me contemplating our 2009 wildlife tour schedule. Today we were back to what I enjoy the most, with a trip to Druridge Bay. A mixed herd of Mute and Whooper Swans allowed comparison between these close relatives and there was plenty of opportunity to compare the bills and behaviour of several waders (including Curlew, Redshank and Golden Plover) and ducks (including Goldeneye, Teal, Wigeon, Gadwall and Red-breasted Merganser). Participant descriptions of some of the birds were quite illuminating; “depressed” (Grey Heron) and “dressed for dinner” (Lapwing) are phrases that will linger long in the memory. Perhaps the star of the day was, again, an otter. Snaking sinuously through the icy-cold water, rolling on it’s back to feed, leaving a trail of fine bubbles while under the surface and, best of all, climbing out of the water onto a log and having a good stretch before looking straight towards us – while we were looking through a 60x eyepiece on the telescope. The best start to the year that we could have imagined, and hopefully a good omen for our upcoming otter safaris and Druridge Bay trips.

Another Otter Safari today and, as well as an Otter performing like a star in front of us (like yesterday, but today it was enjoyed through the delight of a 4-year old – who was very good at finding the otter when it changed location) we watched a swan soap-opera. At first the adults and their four cygnets were sitting around, not really doing much. Then another adult swan with one cygnet had the temerity to land on the pool. Both resident adults steamed across the water at great pace, wings arched in the menacing swagger of a mute swan riled, followed by the cygnets, all cheeping away – presumably the swan equivalent of “my dad’s bigger than your dad”. The interlopers flew off before any exchange of blows, and serenity returned. Then, unexpectedly, the swan family flew off – leaving one cygnet behind. As it swam up and down the pool, calling plaintively, the intruders returned…and the cygnet dealt with them by itself! As we left, the rest of the swan family could be seen on the adjacent pool – and we won’t know if they were all reunited until I check the site again (Friday morning on an Otter mini-safari – update will be posted on the blog as soon as I’m back in my office).

After the christmas break I was really looking forward to today’s Otter Safari. So, just after dawn, I collected Emily and Darren from their holiday cottage at Composers at Woodlands, excited by the prospect of the day ahead. It was overcast and cold but visibility was good and I spotted a group of four Roe Deer in a field by the road, so we spent some time watching them as they fed. On to our first Otter site and…there was one straight away! Diving, swimming, rolling, feeding, scratching, stretching, scaring ducks, diving, swimming and feeding some more; nearly two hours passed while everyone remained entranced by the easy flexible movement of the ever-popular mustelid. Eventually it dived and made it’s way out of our sight so we headed to a lunchtime rendezvous with Sarah and our picnic hamper. Lunch was accompanied by the sight of a Red Squirrel gnawing away at the wire mesh of a peanut cage, Great Spotted Woodpeckers chasing each other through the trees, Treecreepers chasing each other around the trunk of a tree, a Nuthatch that took over where the squirrel left off and no end of Coal, Blue and Great Tits. Up through Druridge Bay and a duck identification session; Mallard, Teal, Wigeon, Shoveler, Goldeneye and Pochard – males all resplendent in their breeding plumage. Numbers at our regular Starling roost were lower than usual; perhaps the cold and gloomy afternoon encouraged them to hasten to bed. The journey back to Scremerston held one last delight as a Barn Owl sat on a fence post in the headlight beam of the Landrover, tilting it’s head slightly from side-to-side, listening, waiting.

Our 2009 dates will be on the website calendar on January 1st and will include Otter Safaris in every month combined with the special wildlife at each time of the year, although the winter is often the best time to see them when we can also look for Red Squirrels, Roe Deer, geese, ducks and owls.

Every day when I’m at my desk at dawn or dusk, I get to see the movement of lots of birds. Thrushes and Woodpigeons roost in the woods that I can see from the window and, each evening, as light levels fall, small groups of Jackdaws head north, no doubt to a sizeable roost with Rooks, their baggy-trousered relatives. In a morning though, it’s noticeably different as a group of about 200 fly rapidly past my office window in a fairly tight flock. If I could follow them what would I find? Do they all descend on one feeding area for breakfast, then gradually disperse throughout the day before re-assembling at their night-time roost? Do they always head to bed when light levels reach a certain point? Do they feed in pairs? (Not such a strange question, even in the winter groups of Jackdaws soaring around over streets and houses can be seen to consist of discrete pairs). They are such fascinating birds, dapper grey and black with that curious, intelligent look in their grey-white eyes. The way that all of the Jackdaws along the chimney pots of a row of houses call in response to one of their number calling as it flies over was a revelation when I first heard it. Perhaps best of all anyone could study their habits; they’re common, they associate with human habitation and they’re here all year round.

No, not a homage to Newcastle United – although many of my birding friends may worship at the altar of St James’ Park, my best mate is a ‘boro fan and I’m a lifelong tiger, but a thought about how we perceive the world around us. We were out today and the low cloud base turned our normal colourful world into a gothic horror; skeletal bare branches reaching skywards, adorned with the horror film silhouettes of crows, rooks and jackdaws. Stripped of colour and texture it was a world of form and contrast aligned along the greyscale. Even Roe Deer were reduced to just a differently shaped shade of grey against the background of the grass, and the shades of the distant, and not-so-distant, hills revealed perspective in the colourless panorama. Shapes, shades, interleaved, interlinked, interlocked.

…or magical memories? Earlier today I had a long, and very enjoyable, chat with Iain Scott of Enterprise Island. I was fortunate to be a participant when Iain and his team brought their own particular brand of inspiration to Wansbeck in October last year. It’s a good job I didn’t have a blog at that point in time…

When Iain called, I’d just spent the entire morning writing Christmas cards…one of the occupational hazards that you never get warned about. In truth, as I wrote each card, memories came flooding back from the last 12 months; advice, support and help from other businesses and the support agencies in our area, cold, exhilarating boat journeys across to the Farne Islands, the day my Goretex jacket finally gave up any pretence of being waterproof, new-born seal pups, sceptical 10-year olds, endearing Red Squirrels, enchanted 10-year olds, majestic Peregrines, tiny babies too young to appreciate what is around them (in the world that will one day be theirs), sinuous Otters, retired or semi-retired couples with a remarkable connection to the environment, swirling Starlings. Actually, all that writing isn’t a hazard, it’s a joy – because all that we do is a thread that is weaved into the fabric of the world. I know that I won’t be able to watch a glistening Grey Seal pup emerging into the hostile environment without momentarily returning in my mind to other times when that happened; vivid memories of people and places, and the experience that connected us all with Northumberland’s wildlife.

The ground was covered in frost, like a dusting of icing sugar. The frozen puddles mirroring my footsteps and my breath condensing in the icy air. As I walked through the ethereal cloud I half imagined that it was going to freeze on my head and face, coating me with the same hoar frost that gave the pathside bushes a magical air.

The pond was covered with birds, and in the calm of a cold winter morning the calls of Teal, Gadwall, Mallard, Goldeneye, Shoveler, Wigeon and Mute Swan (yes, that’s right, although their vocalisations are quiet, if you are lucky enough to be close by, you realise that they are really quite conversational) layered the soundscape that makes these experiences so relaxing.

Then, a sudden frantic departure from one corner of the pond…and I re-focus my video camera to the now vacant area of water. A few Teal and Mallard are still half-hidden amongst the poolside vegetation, surely they haven’t overlooked the danger that scattered all of the other birds? They soon realise that it’s time to go as an otter bounds along the bank before sliding into the water. Bobbing to the surface like a corked bottle, gliding with menacing intent or rolling on its back and looking like the cutest animal on the planet, nearly an hour passes while I’m absorbed into watching one of my favourite predators doing what it does best. A handy raft covered in vegetation provides the ideal spot to tidy itself up after dinner, before slipping back into the pool. I leave, with face frozen, fingers and toes numb but heart pounding.