After getting myself out of the doldrums with the flycatcher, I paid a visit to Lincolnshire where I caught up with some brown hares, including a youngster. Definitely the best images I have managed of these creatures to date, and a welcome addition to my galleries.
Later that day, whilst checking out the RSPB Freiston Shore reserve, I spotted several juvenile swallows resting on a fence, and being fed by the parents. More success with the camera. Things were on the up.
So on to Anglesey. Having only spent a day on the island years ago, before I had gotten into photography properly, it had become one of my most-wanted in terms of places to revisit. When Ann said she'd booked a static caravan for a week, I jumped at the chance to go, and dragged Dad along - he'd never even been there before!
The drive up wasn't great, mainly because I'd left it until 9am to start out, and got caught in the run-to-the-sun queues along the north coast of Wales. But once we had unpacked, we headed straight out to look around. After calling into several places, we found our way to RSPB South Stack, with me hoping for views of choughs, and also for Dad to see a puffin, at long last. And it was Ann who spotted my target beside the road on the way up the hill to the reserve.
Feeding in a horse paddock, a pair of choughs were busy digging out grubs from the ground, and gave great views for us as we got the cameras working for the first time on the trip.
Up at the car park, we scanned the skies, heather and sea below for interest. Dad broke his duck on seeing a puffin when I spotted a small group bobbing around on the water, but way too distant for a shot. Overhead were various gulls, though their calls were pierced by the wail of a pair of peregrines, no doubt scanning the area for something to catch!
The drive up seemed to catch up on me late afternoon, so we decided to head back to the 'van, stopping for some more chough shots along the way. The first impression of the island was really rather good.
Clear skies greeted us the next morning, so another tour was the order of the day, starting with a brief look around the RSPB Valley Wetlands reserve. Here the short walk from the car park was accompanied by the sound of sedge warblers, and the pools were busy with wildfowl. Some little grebes, catching our eyes.
With such lovely weather, I made a beeline to Cemlyn Bay, to see the tern colony. On arrival we encountered a lady who had managed to get her Fiesta stuck in the gravel on the car park, and wasn't going anywhere. With the help of another Skoda-driver who had some rope, I was able to use the Yeti to pull her free, much to her relief, no doubt. Good deed done for the day, we set off across the shingle beach, to set up near the pools behind it, to photo the terns coming and going over us.
In Shetland I was lucky enough to get shots of Arctic and common terns, so I was mainly after sandwich terns here, and there were plenty around.
The sea must be packed with fish as they always returned with food for the youngster waiting behing the beach.
Then came a period of real excitement, as a peregrine dived down from the skies, scattering the terns, and began to chase whatever it could find, for its dinner.
After several minutes though, it gave up and retreated to a nearby hillside for a rest. I turned my attention back to the terns, and enjoyed the challenge of following the birds as they came in high and low, from off the sea.
As well as the sandwich terns, there were common and Arctic too. All seemed to be doing well with their fishing.
The peregrine returned to action after catching its breath, and almost caught a tern, but lost grip, and the tern dived into the lagoon below. Eventually the peregrine headed out to sea, tried chasing some more terns there, before giving up and flying off towards the power station.
We followed, though we headed to Point Lynas instead, and were soon watching a family of kestrels as they hunted over the steep slopes beneath the lighthouse.
More choughs were feeding in the area too, and their frequent movements from one side of the headland to the other gave us opportunities of catching them in flight.
But I kept returning to the kestrels as they were using the sea breeze to hover, and constantly hunting.
I would have stayed longer but I could feel the skin on my face tightening - sunburnt already!
Wanting to perhaps get a closer view of the seabirds around South Stack, we opted to try again, though this time get there for opening time, and take a look at the island with the lighthouse on it. Again we spotted choughs around the fields on the way up to the RSPB car park, and again we took some more shots. Also around were stonechats, perched up on the vibrantly coloured heather.
The problem with reaching the lighthouse is the route down. A few steps. 400 of them, to be precise. It was ok going down, though the steep metal ones just before the bridge over were a bit dangerous with all my gear balanced on my shoulders. The other problem was after reaching the island, we realised that the place is basically set up for tours of the lighthouse itself, and not for views of the seabird colonies (it's not part of the RSPB reserve). After a while I managed to find some sort of view point by a fence, to look across at the birds, mainly gulls it has to be said. No sign of puffins other than those on the water, and they were obscured from view by the slopes of the island. If I'm honest, I would say that it wasn't worth the walk down, but I still got some shots of what I could see.
There were a few razorbills around.
Plus guillemots in greater numbers, with chicks. They are adorable, I must add. And I spotted some nesting fulmars almost hidden in nucks and crannies in the rock face, the odd kittiwake, and a few oystercatchers, some with chicks too.
If the walk down was daunting, the hike back up was grim. My legs were like jelly only about a third of the way up, and I used the excuse of stopping to look at the view several times to recover. We all decided after the trek that we'd not bother visiting the island ever again!
More chough pics on the way out, as well as some of the smaller birds on site (linnets, greenfinches and stonechats) and I was in need of a pint. We followed the road around the island and found a pub called The Pilot Boat Inn which served a lovely ale by Robinsons, called Blonde. Was most welcome, and from the beer garden we had a distant view of an estuary. It had to be explored, and after finding the right road down, Dulas Bay stretched out in front of us as we parked up at the Afon Goch estuary.
Curlews, godwits, gulls and shelducks were in good numbers, though sadly on the other side of the water, and with the heat haze we had no chance of getting anything worth keeping. Thankfully a pair of dunlin decided to feed on our side, and a careful approach yielded some decent shots.
Being such a lovely spot, we returned several times during the week, and of course popped into the pub each time too!
Aside from choughs and terns, I had read before going that the island has been running a programme to eradicate greys in favour of red squirrels, and after a few visits to different woodlands, we spotted them approaching feeders nailed to trees for them.
It was rather amusing in that the flip-up top lids of the feeders had been pecked / chewed open, yet the squirrels still tried to lift them up, almost being whacked on the head when it fell back, before going in via the obvious hole!
So where else did we visit? Well, South Stack proved to be a draw on a number of occasions, resulting in yet more chough pics. On one occasion, we had two that were oblivious to people nearby, busily digging in dirt to get at the grubs, and were so close I had to remove the TC to get a closer focusing distance.
Llyn Alaw proved to be a very calm spot; a huge lake with numerous birds on, though mainly the other end to where we were. Orchids all around, flowers and loads of butterflies and other insects, plus brown hares! And a kingfisher that refused to sit still for Ann to photo. Aberffraw looks to be perfect with its dunes and grasslands for owls and other birds of prey, but not when we were there, alas! Malltraeth is a good spot for watching waders, with good numbers of little egrets viewable from the bridge and also from the paths leading past the small lakes. Plus the RAF base was worth a viewing, with the jets landing and blasting off noisily, frequently.
And Cemlyn Bay tempted me back for another go at the terns, taking in views from the other side by the old ruins this time, seeing the seals out on the offshore rocks and a pair of whitethroats near the car park.
As before, the peregrines provided some additional excitement, with both an adult (successfully taking something) and a juvenile (having less luck) disturbing the colony.
Having found a great local pub (Groeslon Hotel) near our digs, we enjoyed superb meals and ale after each day out before heading back to the caravan to hope the TV might decide to work long enough to watch some of the Commonwealth Games. On our last night, Ann decided to order chips and a crumble with custard as her meal, much to the surprise of us all, including the bar staff, but it was probably wise, as the crumble was cool enough to eat by the time she'd polished off the chips!
The final morning was wet, so we didn't feel too gutted to leave. The island is about right for a week, at this time of year anyway. Maybe in Winter with some more migrants around it might warrant a longer stay, but for a week in July, in good company, fine weather and decent digs, it had been a good tonic for us all.
I suppose a birding blog should focus on birds, not insects like the last post, but I have found my small garden pond to be such a valued addition to the plot, in terms of new and varied wildlife, that the tale of the emerging dragonflies needed airing.
Back to birds again now, despite the rather barren field of subjects here in the Midlands of late. I have to admit to being jealous of the more coastal areas of these isles, where rarities drop in more frequently, or there is simply a greater choice of subjects to point the camera at in general. And it was starting to irritate me more, when despite making trips to the likes of RSPB Otmoor, I was still coming back with hardly any pictures of birds at all. The hobbies I have seen there in previous years seem to be avoiding me, appearing on the blog for the site, but never for me.
Add to the lack of birds, all the stunning images coming back from friends on social media and on Flickr, and I was questioning whether it was worth bothering with. And before you ask, was I putting in the usual efforts? Yes, of course. I even drove out to a favourite spot in the Elan Valley in the hope of some Welsh delights, only to find that it was a case of seeing loads, but watching it all fly away when I pointed the camera at it. Driving even further, I strolled around Cors Caron, only to see a mipit, a distant hobby and a red kite.
The final insult being sat eating my lunch by a path, watching and listening to a family of redstarts deep in the bushes nearby when a juvenile popped out, allowing me to grab some hasty shots. Had I finally got something decent? No. It was a juvenile robin, which I could have seen in the garden. So a near 300 mile trip which again, resulted in next to nothing. More nose-rubbing later when Kate gleefully showed me her shots from Stow Maries airfield, of barn owls, hares and little owls, and I could have cried.
Back out on the Sunday though - this time trying a trading estate in Worcs which has been fruitful over recent years. I eventually saw a green woodpecker, but as usual, it flew off cackling. And I was about to go home when I spotted a mistle thrush, mooching around on some grass. Lined the camera up, about to press the shutter and... a jackdaw flew down and chased the thrush off. That was it, I'd had enough. S*d it. I was heading home. Just pulling out of the gates of the estate when I glimpsed another woodpecker. Thankfully curiosity got the better of me, and for the sake of wasting another minute, I turned round and drove back in for a look.
Needless to say the 'pecker wasn't a 'pecker after all, but a thrush, and again it flew off. As I put my finger on the electric window button, something perched up on a post right beside my car. Definitely a hallelujah moment. A spotted flycatcher.
It stayed there for a few seconds before flying off to a small shrub. Long enough for a shot. It had got my attention alright and surprised me at the same time. I wasn't complaining. In fact, I was actually smiling. They had a nest behind a security light on an office building. Sheltered and I guess warm too, from the light! The parent birds were energetically zipping around the immediate area catching all manner of insects to pass over to the grateful chicks.
The problem then was trying to get myself to a spot where I could get shots of the parent birds as they perched up, where the backdrop didn't have something rather ugly and man-made in view. Not that the shrubs which had obviously been trimmed to shape were exactly natural-looking anyway, or the signs for the companies, where the bird seemed to favour.
I chose a spot and waited, trying to ignore the weird looks I was getting from people working on the estate when they saw the big lens poking from the car window. The birds were completely at ease and carried on with their parenting duties, allowing me to grab shots whenever they landed in view.
Compared to pied flycatchers, they're somewhat plain, but there's something about them that I can't put my finger on, and I love getting shots of them.
I was mostly left in peace, though I had to answer some questions from a security guard on the site, but thankfully he soon left me to it, realising I was of no concern where I was or what I was up to.
Being a Sunday I had to drag myself away eventually, to meet the family at the pub, but by then I had cheered up a fair bit and bagged lots of images.
So, after finally getting images of something I considered decent, had my luck changed? Well sort of. Otmoor again failed to yield any hobbies, but at least I managed to get a turtle dove perched near the path.
And a trip to Marsh Lane topped up my shots of common terns, as they were busy nesting.
The oystercatchers were parading around calling, which looked utterly ridiculous - something from Monty Python? Ministry Of Silly Oiks.
And after a long wait, which ended with me being rained on, one of the tawny owl chicks which had branched, decided to look in my direction; probably to laugh as the rain started to lash down.
The barren patch seemed to have ended, and I had found renewed interest in this lark once more.
It's funny how involved with events, even tiny ones in nature that we can become. I see this quite frequently with Kate (WildlifeKate to her crowds of fans) when she experiences the highs and lows of parts of the lives of animals she encourages on to her land. Perhaps because I'm darting around between different subjects, I rarely see the whole story of something, so don't become attached; maybe I'm missing out?
A couple of years ago I decided to make more of an effort with attracting wildlife to my garden and dug out a pond. I have avoided the urge to bring in species to it, like from another pond for example, leaving nature to do its thing. And it amazed me how quickly it arrived, with newts populating it in only a few weeks.
Back in 2012 I noticed a large dragonfly (southern hawker I believe) buzzing around the garden, and was very pleased to see it drop down to the pond, and start laying eggs around the edges of it. I even had chance to grab some shots as it did so.
Since then I have seen the nymphs frequently, sometimes even catching them when I'm trying to remove the slime from the water. I still haven't worked out how to judge those parcels of barley properly. Fascinating creatures, how they stalk around the depths of the pool, shooting forwards to grab things and consume them. And so large too - even the newts keep a distance from these wee beasties.
So if they were laid as eggs in August 2012 and the articles I have read claim they emerge after 2-3 years, surely I might see them this year? This is what I hoped, and when possible, I have been checking the pond each morning. Annoyingly, last week I discovered a discarded exuvia, floating on the surface. I had missed one emerge! Hopefully more were still to come...
On Saturday morning, at 6am I was awoken by the rumbles of thunder of the much forecast storms, and the rest of the morning was restricted to being indoors as the torrential downpours continued, and when it did brighten up, I chose to head to Upton Warren for the afternoon. And in doing so reminded myself that RAF Cosford's airshow was on the next day... However, just as I was about to leave on Sunday morning, something nagged at me - check the pond.
It's not a big pond so it didn't take long to spot them. One dragonfly had already broken free and was perched, wings open drying off, and another nearby was midway through the process of emerging from the exuvia. A dash back inside to rig up the 7D and 100mm macro, and I was soon crouched beside the pair, trying to get shots through the moving reeds.
The one drying off must have had a very early start, as by the time I started to observe, it was already perched up away from its discarded exuvia, wings open at 90 degrees, and starting to vibrate them too.
The other was halfway out, using gravity to help it ease out.
Crouching for any length of time soon becomes painful, so I popped indoors to grab a bin liner, to sit on. In the time it took me to get that and return, the emerging dragonfly had pulled itself out, and was now gripped on to the exuvia, with various vessels still attached, presumably transferring fluids.
The wings appeared somewhat like a deflated balloon, hanging from its back.
With each passing moment though, they got longer.
And longer...
And longer, until they actually resembled proper wings, although these were opaque still.
The other dragonfly was now out in the open, frequently vibrating or even fluttering its wings. I took a few shots of it, guessing it'd be off shortly.
I was right, and it took off on its maiden flight, off over my apple tree and into next-door's garden. Great to see it head off into the great wide open.
That left the other, which was hanging from the exuvia, drying its wings.
A lengthy process, and unfortunately this is where the story takes rather a downward turn. I had been getting annoyed by the breeze moving the reeds around in front of my lens, but what I didn't see (until I reviewed these pics) was that the dragonfly, when in exuvia form, hadn't made a very good job of affixing itself to the reed.
With one slightly stronger gust of wind, the exuvia broke free of the reed and it, with its newly emerged dragonfly tumbled down to the pond below, getting snagged just above the water, on some other reeds. Wriggling free, the dragonfly broke off the exuvia, and then climbed up the reed itself, but had twisted and folded its wings in the process.
When I took some more pics, after it had settled to a new hanging position, I could see droplets of green fluid on its body and wings, possibly from when it broke off the vessels, but also perhaps from damage to the wings themselves? I was worried that this could be the end of it - if the wings were damaged, it couldn't then fly. Surely evolution of this species has had to cater for windy days before?
Unfortunately for me, work (yes, on a Sunday!) then got in the way, and I had to leave the drama, to hopefully unfold (literally) by itself. Returning later that evening, I found the dragonfly still in the same place, with clearer wings and hence giving me some hope that it might survive.
It had gone by the morning, so I live in hope that it flew away, like the other one, but it could have of course been predated by one of the many new additions to the bird community in my garden. Since the weekend, two more dragonflies have emerged, and I think I'll need to be up earlier to see any more!
I tend to travel the length and breadth of the UK to see some fabulous wildlife spectacles, but it just shows, you can see some fascinating stuff, that captures your imagination and emotions, just in the confines of a small garden pond.
