Dipped, but I don't care. I am on holiday!

After a good morning on the flats, the weather still holding off, I plumped for Richmond to see if I could find the Dartford Warbler reported last week. "Last week!" Now that should have told me something, like it wasn't there anymore. What if had been?  Not knowing would have been worse.  Obviously I should have gone for it earlier, but I went for the closer options of goose and gull and little duck.

It wasn't there, but you know I couldn't give a rats arse, I am on holiday and I enjoyed myself immensely, even if wandering around three bits of fenced in gorse was not up there with the best things ever.  Especially as, as far as I could make out, there were only two Wren, a Blue Tit and a Blackbird in the clumps.  Later there were two Great Tit as well.

This was my first time to the park and it is big!  Huge! What I thought was Richmond Park and a tad crap, was the park on the river side of Richmond, which I now know is really crap, compared with this.  They have deer. Two types of deer.

It's so posh I couldn't find any dog debris: the place is soooo rich, I bet they get someone to clean  up after them, or the dogs don't crap.

After wandering around the clumps of gorse, and a few little detours into the bracken area, looking out for Stonechat with whom the DW had been associating with, I gave up and wandered over to the Pen Ponds, which held a Red-necked Grebe while I was in Shetland. I had forgotten about the RC Pochards that had been recorded here over the last few weeks, and so was pleasantly surprised to see one floating around on the smaller lake. Then as I juggled with the camera, I looked back up and now there were nine.  Blimey where did they all come from?  There were Wigeon too, lots of 'em on the main pond.  What a place.

I scurried round to try and get closer to the reed bed and found four Mandarin on the southern shore.  What a patch.  You'd never get round it in a morning.

I gave the gorse one more look, in the increasing dark, before heading off home.  Not before spotting a little Pipistrelle hunting in the lee of some large trees.  Just shows how mild it is at the moment.  Unfortunately for the little fella I didn't see a single insect the whole time, which may be another reason there was not Stonechat or Dartford Warbler.

Tomorrow I go hunting Grey Partridge down Roydon way, and already I feel a dip coming on. Don't care I am on holiday, and that's all that matters.

In search of the invisible nuthatch: Part III

By Tim Harris

Neil, Gerard and I were back on the high pine ridge near Doi Lang where we had been the previous evening. This was the highest of the ridges we had visited – we were at close to 2,000 metres - and also the most northerly. Just as on the previous evening the light was glorious, with wonderful views over Burma to the north-west and northern Thailand to the south-east, and the temperature was perfect. The previous evening there had been a constant stream of Cook’s Swifts and Himalayan Swiftlets taking advantage of the updraft along the ridge. Now they were gone. 

In fact, apart from the yaffle of a Bay Woodpecker, more than a little reminiscent of Green Woodpecker, there was no indication that there were any birds here at all. Birding at this altitude in Thailand can often be like this, with the ground feeders going about their business unseen and the canopy feeders joining mixed-species parties whose trajectory may or may not cross one’s own. After pretty much three solid days searching for Giant Nuthatch, and this ridge as bereft of trunk-climbers as it had been the previous day, I’m sure we were all having serious doubts about whether we would connect. I certainly was. More worryingly, with a bird so limited in numbers, did this mean a further reversal in its fortunes?

Our strategy was simple. Park on the roadside, walk a few hundred metres, then drive on a little way and do the same again. I think it was the fourth of these stops, and I was about to go back to collect the vehicle, when an excited Scouse shout up ahead alerted us to a some bird activity – a near-miracle in itself. Gerard had picked up the birds, which were coming our way. They materialised in a pine to our left: a strangely manic flitting from branch to trunk, trunk to branch and into the next tree. At first it was hard to get the bins on to one bird before it had been replaced by another, but there was a Chestnut-vented Nuthatch, at least one Grey-capped Pygmy Woodpecker and two, or possibly three, of our main target. Pale underparts with no buff wash; a broad black head-band; a large bill; and chestnut-and-white undertail coverts. Then the birds calmed down a little and all three of us had good views: Giant Nuthatch. Neil managed to get some excellent photos, one of which accompanies this blog.

 Giant Nuthatch (by Neil Bowman)

Our relief was palpable. We’d put in an enormous amount of work and got our just rewards, I felt, but for how much longer will anyone be able to enjoy this species, when its habitat is still being destroyed in some areas and its numbers are seemingly in free-fall?

A purple patch

We continued along the ridge, eventually coming to the feeding station adjacent to a small army camp not far from the highest point on the road. The soldiers here are happy for bird photographers to put out food. They probably appreciate the company of other people, unsurprising given the remoteness of their domicile and the fact that they are stationed there for weeks at a time. A group of Thai photographers enjoyed a succession of Dark-backed Sibias, Spectacled Barwings, Silver-eared Laughing-thrushes and Scarlet-faced Liocichlas. While Gerard wandered off in search of Picidae, and Neil took up a position by the feeding station, I decided to work the track in the other direction.

Then began a wonderful 30 minutes. A blue-and-orange chat appeared on a horizontal branch in front of me, then frustratingly disappeared, its identity a complete mystery. When it reappeared in the middle of the track, I managed to get a few record shots. Embarrassingly, considering it had shown so well, I still didn’t know what it was. The bird vanished again, giving me a chance to have a quick self-conscious fumble through the field guide. A male Blue-fronted Redstart, apparently, described as “scarce” in Thailand. Hmmm, that was very good. Then some White-headed Bulbuls appeared on the snags of a dead tree, a succession of Orange-bellied Leafbirds appeared, I had nice views of a Grey Treepie’s vent, a Himalayan Bluetail appeared right by the track, followed a few minutes later by a Chestnut-crowned Warbler.

 Blue-fronted Redstart

Himalayan Bluetail

 Meanwhile, Neil was photographing his own amazing birds at the feeding station and Gerard – sadly – was still drawing a blank with the woodpeckers. For me, the excitement ended as suddenly as it had started and the next couple of hours were very quiet as, once again, cloud began to envelope the mountain. All three of us joined the search for Crimson-breasted Woodpecker, apparently known from this part of the track but definitely not prepared to give itself up. We eventually had to accept defeat with this species; it must be spread very thinly, even at Doi Lang. For Neil and I, the nuthatch more than compensated, though for Gerard I suspect that was not the case.

Spectacled Barwing

You aint seen me, right?

"You won't tell on me, will you?"

Of course not!

Today I saw a Ruddy Duck, amongst a few other ruddy ducks which were Tufties. I will not say where I saw this RD, not because I do or don't support the cull of these rather smart little birds for their promiscuous misdemeanours with "our" (Spanish) birds.  It is not my place, not my patch,  to make that decision.

I would have gone earlier in the year, but the reports were not good, but today I thought what the hell.  The hell was wading through goose shit in my smart shoes to find it.

PLL #194.  One day left before I can rush around town to my heart's content and I am beginning to enjoy it again, but that could be purely down to the fact I haven't dipped on the last three birds. Tomorrow I can see that all changing as I finally head to Richmond to conjure up a Dartford Warbler, which is unlikely to be there.

Dear Santa...

Please may I have all of the following for Christmas

Penduline Tit
Glaucous Gull
Ringed-bill Gull
Rough-legged Buzzard
Arctic Redpoll*

Great Skua
Hoopoe
Serin
Long-eared Owl
Brown Shrike**

Eider
Pink-footed Goose
Red-breasted Merganser
Whooper Swan
Lapland Bunting
Grey Phalarope
Dartford Warbler
Sanderling
Common Crane
Pomerine Skua***

Gannet
Monk Parakeet (not sure I really want one of these, but it would be nice to see one)****

Goshawk
Ruddy Duck
Velvet Scoter
Shag
Red-necked Grebe
Bean Goose
Barnacle Goose
White-fronted Goose
Bewick Swan
Snow Bunting
Iceland Gull
Caspian Gull (if I have to!)*****

I have been good

You don't have to parcel them up in one go, I don't  mind two or three a day, you know like the twelve days of Christmas kind of thing, but with birds.  I am not sure I could cope with any number of maids-a-milking anymore

oooh and a (Grey) Partridge in a field somewhere nearby would be ace

Nick

* London December sightings in 2008
** 2009
*** 2010
**** 2011
***** 2012

So there is precedence for this

Today I ticked off the Iceland Gull at Beddington, but not before I had scrutinised all one million of the larid buggers enjoying the tip, and then it was right where I had started.  It was close in on the bank, so could have been there all the bloody time.  Hard to see because some damn fool had planted trees along the bank.

Had to go manual...


then forgot I was in manual.  Might have nailed it otherwise...

Low cloud

Last night I had a cunning thought. Another one. The fact that is was likely to fail was of no concern. A quick trip down to Rainham and bag a couple of geese, then slip across town and snap up a Dartford Warbler at Richmond, and if that went well...  My imagination thought to include Beddington to hoover up an interesting gull, but failed to base any of its hopes on reality.

It all appeared to be going tits up soon after leaving Barking when the view from the train disappeared into a grey fluff. The grey fluff got worse by the time I got to the river wall just by the centre, with visibility down to about 20 yards.  This might take some time. 

I could see blue sky above me and occasionally something flew through: a flock of Lapwing with three Black-tailed Godwit. Deeper in the fog, I could hear the calls of Teal and Wigeon, piping of Redshank and the excited calls of finches at the feeders at the centre.

An hour past.  At some points it looked like the fog was clearing only for it creep back again. Richmond was soon off. A Chiffchaff flitted along the path and disappeared into the cold, damp blanket.  I was getting cold too so I decided to walk a bit further along the wall towards Aveley Bay. Two grey geese calling as the flew over the centre and towards Kent stopped me in my tracks. Arse! Probably the White-fronts.

A while later I could make out a boat on the river, then Kent and I could now feel a bit of warmth from the sun.  I could even see birds on the reserve, all wrong-uns, but there was a gaggle of greylag way over on the back of flashes that defied a good view.  Without too much optimism I felt I should check them out.

It was now time for a coffee and so headed back to the centre.  In the distance I made out two familiar shapes that could only be Harry and Barry, and were. We were after the same thing, so while I went for a restorative hot mug, they made their way down the river wall.

By the time I got to the Butts hide there were no geese, where I had thought and very little else that was awake, bar a showy Stonechat. I was becoming more convinced that the birds had flown. Work then.

To the south of the hide a group of Greylag and Canadas were working their way down the fence line. I gave them one more shot. A small goose, partly hidden behind an ant hill caught my attention.  It's head popped up.  White blaze, get in! Tick #192 and I believe my first at Rainham, so double yay!

Tomorrow Richmond and the cunning plan part 2....

From Russia with Love

Eight hours in a car with Mr Lethbridge and his eclectic taste in music? You can hear the stampede of eager participants.  Strangely enough it was just me, and I had a cunning plan.  In the past, on such trips, he had quipped that if I had a connector for my i-Phone I could play some of my stuff, in the certain knowledge that would have not been the case.  This time I was prepared.  So while most of the time was spent with him trying to brainwash me into his way of thinking regarding C&W, I did manage to slip a few Groove Armada and a bit of Sam and Dave quality into the mix.  Ha ha!

The eight hour drive took us up north to have a sneaky at a duck I later found isn't even on my data sheet (wow it must be rare). Luckily it showed a soon as we sloshed up the the sea wall, just above the strand line heavy with new material from this weeks tidal surges.  Unfortunately too far off for anything but scope views, but I had come prepared for that too.  Yay! More completely rubbish digi-scoping (how I've missed this futile endeavour) with my new Kowa adaptor and their free software. Sadly it was my first outing with the new kit and the results are predictably disappointing, made worse by the constantly fluctuating wind, cold hands, fat fingers controlling the remote on my headphones, and watery eyes and a runny nose.  Lovely!

What a great place. A pile of ducks in front of us; mostly Wigeon, Teal and a few Pintail.  To the north across the Ribble estuary towards Blackpool a huge expanse of salt marsh and behind the sea defences very wet pastureland, where hundreds of Pink-footed Goose were feeding and amongst them two Great White Egret, who stood out brilliantly in the low sun. And everywhere waders flashing en-masse as they took flight over the estuary: Godwit, Knot, Dunlin, Golden Plover, Lapwing.

Sadly it being winter, we had to make tracks to get home. We did have a sneaky thought about going across country for the reports of Ivory Gull at Sea Houses, but the news came through too late and we would never have made it. Now all we have to do is sit back and wait for the great and the good to give it the thumbs up.

 aah, quality digi-scoping!

In Search of the Invisible Nuthatch (2)

Part 2

By Tim Harris

Another dawn, another beautiful mountain ridge topped with pine – more potential habitat for Giant Nuthatch. The only problem was that there seemed no simple way to access the top. After searching for a trail for a while we admitted defeat and went in search of other birds. At 7:30 we found ourselves in an abandoned pea farm just outside the small town of Ban Luang. Bizarrely, considering the number of trees we’d walked through over the course of the previous few days without seeing more than half a dozen woodpeckers, it was here that Gerard was able to enjoy his best views of a pair of Stripe-breasted Woodpeckers and a Greater Yellownape after they greeted us within a couple of minutes of our arrival.

While Gerard and Neil sought photos of the woodies, I stood and watched the edge of a scrubby area for its birds to come to life. Sure enough, a Rusty-cheeked Scimitar-Babbler and two White-browed Laughing-Thrushes appeared in the bright early morning sunshine, along with a Hill Prinia, a couple of Aberrant Bush Warblers, a few Grey Bushchats, and Sooty-headed Bulbuls and Brown-breasted Bulbuls. Annoyingly brief rear views of a pale blue flycatcher left me scratching my head: Verditer or a real Pale-blue? I will never know.

A Golden-throated Barbet in the fruiting tree.

Lost in translation

With Gerard having successfully made some recordings of the woodpeckers’ calls and Neil happy with his pictures, we decided to move on a couple of kilometres to the local army camp, where  – you’ve guessed it – we’d been told Giant Nuthatch had been seen in the recent past (“early morning is good”). As you might expect at an army camp there was a soldier on the barrier with an automatic weapon. We had been given a Thai phrase to shout to him (the translation probably being ‘Hi, we’re crazy English birders so you can humour us by letting us look around your camp’). Unfortunately, in the space of 10 minutes all three of us had managed to forget this phrase, and rather than risking a linguistic faux pas I waved my bins at him and hoped for the best. And the best is what happened: he lifted the barrier and we parked up. Extraordinary as it might seem we were able to wander around for the next half hour with bins, a scope and large camera lenses. All well and good but of course there was no sign of a nuthatch of any description.

A female Black-breasted Thrush.

Barbetry

Maybe this called for a complete change of tack. With most of the area’s known nuthatch sites checked we decided to concentrate on the plethora of other interesting birds in the area. Just up the road was a trail we had visited the previous evening. Running through an area of dense mixed forest it had a fine large fruiting tree at the end. Over the next couple of hours this proved to be very popular with barbets. Both Golden-throated and Blue-throated spent long periods doing what they do best – gorging on fruit – though at times the cloud engulfed us and restricted photo opportunities. A succession of other species moved through the area, including White-necked Laughing-Thrushes and Spectacled Barwings, and once the silhouette of a Black Eagle drifted past in the cloud. We had other visitors, too. I felt my T-shirt moving and checked underneath to find a leech swaying rhythmically on my stomach! 

The view from the pea farm.

Of course, we had to try the army camp again (“late afternoon is sometimes good”) – just in case. There were a few Olive-backed Pipits and phylloscs in the pines, but little else. Thoughts started turning to cold beer … but we hadn’t give up yet.