Somerset Levels

About this time of year I try to find any excuse to get down to the Somerset Levels to catch up with some of the resident and migrant species, and to put it simply, have a lovely walk in the sunshine. The latter of course has been in short supply lately, so with a sunny weekend forecast, I found myself parking up at Ashcott Corner at 7:45am, to make as much of the day as possible. 

As I opened the car door I immediately heard the call of a cuckoo, and then seconds later, the deep, resonating boom of a bittern. The cuckoo was flying around the trees at the back of the boardwalk, behind the car park, but recent rains had meant the walk itself was closed due to flooding, so I took my usual favoured choice of heading to RSPB Ham Wall first. 

The pools were bathed in morning sunshine and coots, moorhens, pochards, tufted-ducks and great-crested grebes went about their business, some still building or maintaining nests, others leading their young proudly around the edges of the reed beds, and of course the coots found something to argue over! This was all set to the strange and rather amusing chorus of the marsh frogs. 

Up above, swifts, swallows and martins chased the flying insects, of which there were a few swarms, as usual attracted to me like flies around erm, let's not finish that line! Sharing the skies were one of my target birds, hobbies. Initially there was only one out hunting, but as the morning temperatures rose, numbers increased to maybe 8 or 10 of these fantastic, agile birds of prey. 

I set the tripod up and tried to get any shots as they came close enough, which was a rarity sadly, though I'm used to this, after spending hours watching and waiting for them at spots like Exminster Marshes over the years. Regardless of success rate, just watching them was great. 

Eventually, my neck got tired of being craned backwards and I thought it was time to wander over to Shapwick Heath. While the bitterns at Ham Wall were booming, they were rarely flying - in fact I only got to see one flying, and that was too low to focus on, skimming the tops of the reeds. Maybe I'd see more on the other side. 

Across the waterway in one of the lagoons were a few godwits and what looked to be a little egret springing around after food, in a rather camp manner. But by now the heat haze made anything that far off pointless photographing, so I continued towards the hides, where I could sit down for a bit and munch my sandwiches. 

Just before the bridge, I happened to bump into a friend who had also made the trip down there, albeit even earlier than me (and I thought I was mad!), who then informed me that had I gone into Shapwick Heath first, I'd have surely seen a glossy ibis and seven common cranes. Unlike me though, she was chasing invertebrates, although coincidentally on a route that took her from one cake shop to another! Maybe I should plan my walks better, to end up at a pub?! 

Just as I was starting to regret my earlier decision, a cry from behind us of "CRANES!!" grabbed our attention, and a glance skywards revealed a pair, miles up, circling on the thermals, calling out. They were a bit easier to follow than the hobbies, but so very high up, and were soon joined by a further three. I have to admit, their call is rather haunting, in a nice way. 

As they disappeared off into the distance, the lure of cakes was obviously too much, and I was left to head to the hides on my own once more, and my luck continued to improve as I entered the hide to be told I'd missed a bittern right in front, by about 3 minutes. With the hide full, I wandered out again and over to the other one, which was empty and I could eat and peer out in peace. The view of the Tor was fantastic - lovely to see it lit up by the afternoon sunshine. Aside from a flying bittern at distance and a few more hobbies, the view was a bit barren, and I decided to head elsewhere. 

A squacco heron had been seen and photographed nearby at a place called Blagdon Lake, but details of exactly where to go were sketchy, and I ended up at the wrong end of the lake, asking locals where to go. Apparently I needed a permit, but there were loads of people down there and they'd know what to do, I was informed. I eventually found the small crowd, and was immediately put on to the heron, which was creeping around the edge of the lake, amongst wild flowers and tall grass, making it tricky to get a clear shot. 

It was an usual looking bird, with warm sand-coloured feathers, and a crop of longer ones off the back of its head, much like an egret. 

I had only been there for maybe 10 minutes when the warden arrived, and after admitting I didn't have the permit he was asking to see, he said I could get one from Chew Valley Lake, but then realised I was too late for that and asked me to leave. He did preach to me about checking details on the internet first, but all I'd seen was "Follow on-site instructions". The only on-site instructions I heard (or seen) were "You're trespassing, I'll have to ask you to leave!" Ah well, I had some shots, which was the main thing. I do think they're missing a trick though, by not selling passes to people on site, like places such as Upton Warren. So I upped sticks and left. 

A kind couple who had chatted to me at Blagdon had told me of a spot with a barn owl, so while I considered heading back, I diverted to this spot instead. The barn owl was sat quite far off in a tree outside its box, but another helpful birder put me on to a dunlin, right on the edge of the lake. 

After that was scared off by a loony driver blasting by at ridiculous speeds, I waited for the owl to do something... it didn't. May as well have been stuffed! With a 90 minute drive home and sore eyes after a long day in the sun and breeze, I chose to head back. Another fine day in Somerset which as usual left me wanting more.

Fabulous Foxes

Those of you who follow this blog will surely have read about the foxes I failed to get any footage of recently, due to a camera setting issue. Since then, I have been keeping an eye on the garden each evening in the hope of seeing them again to try for some shots. But I wasn't expecting to spot them on a Friday morning, as I got ready for work! 

As before, there were four cubs, though one seemed less inclined to join in and the mother, a vixen whose tail seemed to have lost a fair amount of fur since the last sighting. The light wasn't great so I dialled in 1600 ISO and opened the 100-400mm up wide, and started to try for some shots out of the bedroom window. 

It was challenging to do, as part of me simply wanted to watch them play, and did they ever! They were chasing each other, round and round flower beds, diving into the shrubs, bursting out and leaping with that limitless energy of youth. 

Mostly mum watched over them, occasionally following them when they vanished from sight, and stepped in when the play fights seemed to be perhaps getting out of hand. 

Then she decided to join in and chased her youngsters around the lawns at amazing speed, changing direction in an instant, easily catching up when she chose to. I have to admit I lost track of time and was late for work as a result, having to drag myself away from the action. 

Urban foxes get bad press for isolated incidents, but you would have to be very cold not to have smiled at their antics, and at how adorable the cubs were. 

I know they will face dangers from traffic, litter and other wildlife in their futures, but for that hour or so when they were in my garden, they seemed to be having the time of their lives, and I was very grateful to have watched them.

Wheels And Dials

Another wet Bank Holiday was initially forecast, but at the last minute, things changed and the weekend itself at least, promised some sunshine, although it was going to be cold. I had to turn down an offer of heading to the Elan Valley with Stuart, on account of having to collect a new(er) car. Typically, after finally deciding to keep the old one for a year longer after finally paying it off, one thing after another went wrong. Head gasket (caught early thankfully), radiator, then a puncture and the final nail in the coffin, the turbo failed. 

So now I have a newer car, one that ought to be better for the sort of bumpy track I seem to find myself trundling down these days, and a bit more room for kit in it. And to test it out, as soon as I could, I immediately headed down to the area around the southern end of the Malverns. I like Castlemorton Common, though I called into Longdon en-route, hoping to see some of the rarities mentioned recently online. I'd have needed good eyesight, as I turned out I was stood about a mile from where I was supposed to, but spotted and photographed a kestrel, as it perched on an overhead cable. 

On the Common, sadly being a Saturday afternoon, it was infested with dog walkers, and everything worth photographing was miles off. I didn't take a single photo, though I was pleased to see my first cuckoo of the season. 

An early start on Sunday and I was on Long Mynd before 8am. Unlike some of my friends who have amazing eyesight, I sometimes find my contact lenses refuse to sit right, and I can't get a clear view out of one eye. As I was about to get out of the car on the hill, I heard and then saw a red grouse flying in, so closed the car door again, and swung the camera over for a shot. Despite the bird being not that far off, I just couldn't seem to focus on it, so ended up rubbing my eyes and trying again. The camera seemed to focus though, as was shown when I looked at the LCD on the back. 

Oh well, maybe a walk would help clear them. Down into the valleys, hoping to see maybe a whinchat or stonechat. Saw neither. Lots of willow warblers, meadow pipits and chaffinches, but not a lot else. Near the top of one of the steep sided inclines seemed to be a fair amount of smaller birds, so in a moment of madness, I chose to climb (yes, with the camera balanced over one shoulder) up the hillside, clinging on to gorse bushes for grip. Took a fair time too, as I'm not exactly fit, and by the time I'd made it to the path, all the birds I'd been watching had either died laughing at me, or flown off. I did see a whitethroat, though it was as usual, too far to bother photographing. Luckily, the walk back to the car was dead easy, and along the way I spotted a pair of red kites circling. 

Back in the car, I drove towards the gliding club, and stopped near some trees, to see if they held any surprises. A flash of red, with a flickering tail and I knew I'd found a redstart. Initially, it landed quite close, but again my eyes were playing up, and I had to trust the camera for the shots. 

But with it being a Sunday, the road soon became too busy, with hikers, cyclists (who insist on talking to each other so loudly you'd think they were in the next county, rather than being 3 feet away from each other) and lunatic car drivers who hurtle along the single track roads without a care (or brain cell between their ears) in the world. So I got out and headed into the wooded area. I was glad of my hand-warmer and woolly hat, as within moments of leaving the warmth of the car, it began to snow! In May. So much for Spring... 

As I crept closer to the redstart, the sun returned and I hoped to get a reasonable shot of it on one of the old, moss-covered broken branches. Suddenly, the bird flew off. I started to wonder if I'd spooked it when a voice behind me asked what I was looking for. Not one, but about 10 birders on a walk had seen me, and come into the area I was to see what I was up to. Without being too sarcastic I said I was hoping for a shot of a redstart, if I could get close enough. Obviously too subtle, as they then sat down behind me, no more than 10 feet away to have a picnic, and chatted loudly about where they were off to next, what they'd seen etc. I know it's a free world etc, but do I need to wear a big badge saying "I'm trying to photograph something, so please keep quiet and still"? Or maybe a reversible one that says "Just s*d off will you?" ;-) 

Anyway, eventually they left, and by then I'd gone further off, and with some patience, I got a couple of pics before the light failed, and more snow came down. 

I was starting to get rather cold too, so thought it'd be best to head home. Later on the evening, I heard something in the garden and peered out. A vixen with 4 playful cubs, hurtling around. Hoping to get maybe some video footage, I grabbed the camera and put on the 100-400mm lens, and stuck it out the window. By then I was wearing my glasses, and seeing the camera fail to focus once more filled me with dread. Not another failure? 

Well no. After a bit of testing, with a kit lens in the kitchen, I realised the camera was focusing fine. Then the penny finally dropped. The dioptric adjustment dial on the eyepiece had moved when the camera was resting on my car seat! What a prize plonker! Adjusted back to normal and everything was clear once more. I'm used to the Mode Dial on the camera moving when I have the camera on the passenger seat, but never had this issue before. Yet another thing to check before I can take a shot!! I need some sort of rig to hold the blasted thing in the seat now, to avoid such annoyances again. 

In the words of a great cartoon character, D'oh!

Wyre Adders

One of my goals this year was to track down some adders, as I've not seen one since Dad spotted one slithering along a hillside near Swanage, when I was a child. I've seen plenty of grass snakes, but not managed to glimpse the more elusive adder at all to date. 

Reading Jason's blog (Shenstone Birder) I noticed he'd seen one in the Wyre Forest, and while I had looked there for them before, I set out on Saturday morning with some renewed optimism of finding one. 

The problem was, I still wasn't completely sure where I needed to go, so ended up going for a stroll through the woods, where I heard the familiar teasing call of a blackcap. I say teasing, as I rarely get any shots of them. I've got a pair nesting near my back garden, but so far have only managed a few shots of the female. Here though, there were two males, being chased / followed around the trees by a pair of long-tailed tits. I waited and hoped. 

After a few shots of branches and twigs, I managed a shot, and while it's not the best effort, it's better than nowt! 

Walking back towards the main path, I was nearly deafened by a pair of wrens, seemingly duelling over songs. Didn't take long to spot them, as they like to choose elevated perches to belt out their songs from, and despite the gloomy light, I took a few shots of the little characters. 

You've probably noticed by now that I've not mentioned finding any adders. Well, I hadn't. But then I had a stroke of luck. Walking near me, was a chap with a radio aerial, and he seemed to be looking around on the ground for things. I thought I'd be cheeky and ask what he was up to. Just then, I spotted a familiar face approaching him. Sylvia Sheldon, who was featured on Springwatch (I think) when she was awarded some sort of geek award by Chris Packham. I knew I had a chance of seeing one with her around! 

Asking if I could tag along while they tracked down tagged snakes, they were quite happy for me to do so, which was fab. Instead of a needle in a haystack, I now had a realistic chance of seeing one, and maybe getting a shot. 

Even with the tags on, which are paid for by public donations by the way, they're difficult to track down, as the snakes like to hide, go underground and sadly the tags come off. They're only taped on - Sylvia doesn't like the idea of using super-glue, in case it harms the snake. Quite right too. 

The first female we tracked, was under a pile of bracken, so no sighting there. The second also remained hidden from view. I was beginning to think I had perhaps cursed the mission. Then Sylvia offered to show me one where she knew it'd be, and as the sun had popped out for a bit, she reckoned it would be in its favourite sun-bathing site. It was. Though it took some time for me to spot it, they're so well camouflaged. 

Tiny, strikingly marked and fascinating creatures. But very sensitive to any noise or movement, and my clumsy (excited) approach meant it vanished before I could get a picture. We then tried a couple of other sites, but each time, the snake would be partially hidden or zipped off, when we got too close. Even so, just having seen one I was buzzing. 

With their tracking exercise complete, Sylvia and her colleague left me to it, and I knew it would be a case of being patient. If the sun came back out, chances are, so would the adders. Setting up near where I'd seen the male earlier, I crouched and hoped. A flick of a tongue and out it slithered from the leaf litter, cautious and very slowly, it moved out of the shadows and into view. 

I'd abandoned the idea of using my big lens, and was using the 50D and 100-400mm, as it's far more manoeuvrable, and has a closer focusing distance too. The markings and colours of the adders are striking - when you see one up close, it really is a beautiful animal, if you can use that term for a creature feared by some. I guess if you trod on one, or tried to pick it up or interfered with it, you might be at risk, but just observing from a sensible distance and being as still as possible, was so rewarding. Really made my day seeing them. 

The photos I got were all of a male. The females were larger and darker coloured, making them even more difficult to spot. I was surprised that they can live for 30 years too - seems a lot for such a small snake. 

With the current monsoon-like weather, I doubt I'll be trying again soon, and it's probably best to wait for warmer months anyway, to have more of a chance of seeing them. 

I know this is a Birding Blog, but I love to photo all manner of wildlife, and these adders have really whet my appetite for more.

Denbighshire Delights

To get up or not to get up, that was the question. In doing so (really early) I would surely be able to get up to Denbighshire in North Wales to see the black grouse lekking - a species I've not seen before. And with the weather promising to be decent, surely I'd make the effort? 

Well, no. After a few early starts for work in the week, the idea of getting up that early on a weekend fell on sleepy ears, and so, after a brief lie in, I arrived in North Wales at about 10am, to find Stuart's car parked up beside the road. I just knew he'd got up early and a phone call later confirmed it. They'd been there for 5:30am (him, Ken and John) and seen about 3 hours of wonderful lekking, with 7 black grouse. The light hadn't been great, but I wished I'd made the effort and wondered if I'd regret it. 

Last year, a Dartford Warbler found photographer-fame when it took up residence in the same area, and it's survived a year there. A bit of waiting and watching and second-guessing where it'd land next resulted in a few more decent shots of this bird, before it zipped off across the moors and out of sight. 

Back at the cars, I spotted a pair of black grouse over a valley, wandering along the steep slopes. Too far for even a record shot, but good to see (a first for me - I don't do "ticks" as the word reminds me of some horrid insects picked up on Uist one year - ewww). At this point, the lads headed back towards England, leaving me to search the moors for grouse on my own. I didn't hold much hope, especially after returning to the valley where the pair had been seen, to find they'd "clucked" off. 

Whilst munching on my sarnies, I noticed a pair of stonechats fluttering down from their lofty perches, to pick up insects from beside the road, so I put down the window, and waited. Had to do a bit of contortion to get the shots - sitting almost on the dashboard to get one, but I love these birds, so was worth the discomfort. 

Clouds started to gather over the tops of the hills, and I thought I'd drive around a bit in hope of spotting something. After an hour, all I'd seen were pipits and a few more stonechats. I was about to head home when I decided the road deserved another go, and as the hail began to fall, I spotted a black neck poking up above the heather. Memories of spotting red grouse from Scotland came back, and I quickly parked up nearby. 

I could also see (through the awful weather) another bird further off too, but that seemed to be heading away, until suddenly, it took off, and flew towards me, over the road and landed about 80 yards away, on a small lump of grass. To see one out in the open and relatively close was good enough for me, but when it then started to perform, I couldn't believe it. 

Making all the sounds, ruffling feathers, posturing and calling out - it was a sight for sore eyes. 

The other one, whose head I'd seen poking out the undergrowth just watched, and stayed out of sight. After about 20 mins, the lekking ceased and the bird flew off, down over the hill and away from me. By now though, the hail had eased and it was merely snowing!! The temperature had dropped from about 8 down to 3 Celcius in maybe an hour, and it was really horrid. The grouse nearby, sat up and came out of cover in the worst of the weather, before attempting to call and posture itself; almost as if practising. 

In the distance, I spotted a bird quartering the moors and a quick look through my bins revealed a hen harrier. Fantastic. Shame the weather was so dire, but a record shot bagged as it crossed the road in front of me. 

Typically, as soon as the weather threatened to improve, the grouse then flew off! 

I had wanted to spend Sunday locally, and so the day started with that in mind. Near Sambourne, I had hoped to catch up with a cuckoo heard there, but no sign of it. Instead I found a lovely kestrel hunting, and then later, a not so lovely traffic jam near a Car Boot Sale. 

Further on, near Feckenham, the sound of a chiffchaff beside the road prompted another stop off, and I managed some shots of it as it sang from the hedgerow. 

I had hoped to explore Shenstone, but upon arrival in the area, I had noticed my steering was a bit weird, and putting down the window I could hear a frap-frap-frap sound. Parking up revealed the problem - a flat, and so it was the end of the day. Spare wheel on, and the rest of the day spent in the tyre centre. 

Such is life!

Garden Gold

As I type this, I really ought to be outside working on my garden pond, but the rain is enough of an excuse to be inside. Yesterday though, while drizzle occasionally fell, I was knee deep in mud and clay, but wisely, had my camera gear nearby. 

I get a reasonable array of birds in the garden, and most of my shots of goldcrests are from here. However, almost all are from the fir tree, so when I spotted the local pair chasing one another around the shrubs, I grabbed the camera and followed. 

As usual, they didn't stop for long, though as I have seen before, they don't take much notice of you either allowing very close views, and I had to duck twice when their chase took them right at me! 

Made a good change to see them out of the fir tree, and I grabbed an old stick as a perch, put it into the shrubs and hoped they might come out into the open more to land on it. 

Paid off, with a few shots of one of the tiny characters perching on it, before diving back into the bushes. 

After a few frantic moments, the pair seemed to calm down, and vanished back into the shadow of the fir tree, to feed once more. Unfortunately that meant I had to head back to the hole, and carry on with my task. Made for an entertaining distraction though!

Ouzels, Falcons And Sausages?

Scanning the various reports during the week, I noted that a pair of ring ouzels had been seen daily up on Clee Hill, on the Titterstone side. This was where I had seen some before, so fancied my chances of adding photos to my collection with another trip. Unfortunately, on the Saturday morning, as I drove towards the hill I could see it shrouded in cloud so knew it wouldn't be welcoming. 

I was right, and glad I'd put on my thermal trousers and remembered my woolly hat. The hill was generally quiet, though there were a couple of hardy birders and photographers looking around the derelict buildings, and as such, locating the bird was made easier. They were initially feeding on the same steep slopes as the desert wheatear had favoured, which made it difficult to get any sort of shot, plus they were flighty and as soon as they caught sight of you approaching, even if you were really careful, they flew off. The wheatears weren't so bad, and I managed some very close shots, although hardly colourful in the conditions. 

As the hills are so undulating, it was possible to get to within a few metres though, and wait for the birds to move into sight, and this was the tactic which seemed to yield the best success during that drizzly morning. I got some very close views of the female as she fed from the rain-soaked grassy slopes, but the light was pretty dire. 

Later, the male and female favoured the buildings themselves, and by slowly creeping closer, I managed some half decent shots, with the male being the one I wanted most, due to the better markings. 

He liked to watch over the female when she was searching for food, and called out to her frequently, which gave his location away, even when he was tucked into hidden corners. 

With fading light (plus a group of American idiots who found it funny to chase off the birds), I decided to call it a day, but not before a moment of hilarity. Stood chatting to a local tog, a raven flew overhead, and it dropped something from its beak, narrowly missing us both. A string of sausages!! I couldn't stop laughing. I wonder where it got them from? Someone missing part of a BBQ maybe! 

Hardly BBQ weather, though the Sunday was much better, and being keen to get some brighter shots, I returned to the hill once more. This time, both Ken and Stu were present, interested in both the ouzels and the small number of wheatears around. As before the ouzels were flighty and I ended up following them around the hillside, away from the others. Here, whilst watching the pair feed below, I got chatting to another local, who let it slip where he'd seen some peregrines, only a short drive away. 

With some brighter pictures of the ouzels in the bag, I decided to pack up and head off to this new site and hope. Upon arrival, there was no sign of the birds, but within seconds of me sending a text to the lads reporting the lack of activity, I heard something whoosh past, a bit like the sound a jet makes before you hear the engines, but this was no jet - it was a peregrine falcon, and it promptly shot upwards to start chasing another peregrine around the blue skies. 

Just wonderful. Calming for a second, I made sure I'd got the right settings, and switched to the expanded focus point, as the birds fly rather quickly when they need to, making keeping them in the shot a tad difficult. But seeing them fly around overhead was fabulous. Another text, and about 20 mins later, I was joined by Ken and Stu. 

Another lull in the action, tempted Ken to wonder off to try to photo a wheatear nearby and left me to try to describe the sound the bird had made when it passed me earlier. Just as I'd given up with my poor description, it did it again. Same whooshing sound, speed of it coming past and the sight of it as it hurtled upwards after the other bird - Stu said it was one of the best wildlife moments he'd ever had. 

No time to dwell in the moment, as the falcons put on a display over head again, chasing one another, occasionally landing, calling out and off chasing again. 

With them being so low down, we were able to get some good shots, when we managed to get the bird in the frame, of course. Easier said than done. 

And with the warmth of the sun, heat haze became a problem, as it had when Ian and I had tried to get shots of the same species down in Devon. I managed a few good shots despite this, and by the time the birds left once more, we had all filled our cards with shots of this awesome hunter. 

 I drove back to look for the ouzels once more, but by that time, the dog walkers and picnickers had arrived and the pair were very difficult to follow. I did catch a decent view (as did Pam & co) in some of the buildings, but a dog walker decided to play ball with his mutt in the same area, and scared the birds off. 

Typical. I knew it was time to leave before I lost my rag with someone. A productive weekend though, and perhaps something to keep tabs on over the summer.