“Thank God I’m not a Redshank” That was a comment made yesterday by a client on a visit to the Lindisfarne NNR. The reason for the comment was the sad, windblown Redshank trying to extract a meal from the mudflats in front of us, while being buffeted by the wind. This came at the end of a excellent day birdwatching on this magnificent section of the Northumberland coast; wild geese in the 1000’s, 100’s of Gannets in a spectacular feeding frenzy and rafts of Common Eider drifting on a turbulent sea…
The Redshank worked it’s way slowly along the edge of the rising tide, picking and poking into the dark mud. With it’s feathers displaced from their usual neat arrangement by the wind that had made the whole day so atmospheric, those gleaming white secondaries were like a beacon in the gathering gloom of the late afternoon. Ours were not the only eyes to see that though…there was a sudden burst of alarm from the terrified wader as it came under attack from a Peregrine. The raptor swooped and the Redshank avoided that first assault. As the falcon rose and turned to regain it’s aerial advantage the Redshank saw an opportunity and flew. Quickly it realised the futility of that effort as the Peregrine closed the gap with breathtaking speed. A quick turn and the Redshank was back at it’s starting point, again avoiding the striking talons. Fleeing was abandoned as an option and it headed into the water. The falcon stooped repeatedly from a low height, trying to flush it’s target and make the hunt a much more one-sided effort. The Redshank crouched lower and lower, hugging the safety of the water. In a final stoop the falcon stalled at the last second before it would have hit the water and reached down a taloned claw…plucking the Redshank from it’s sanctuary.