This article and the images within were provided courtesy of S. Grover.
There is a pattern to when we see certain species of birds during the year. For example, in summer we record Swallows and in winter, Whooper Swans. This cycle is repeated annually and is, by and large, predictable. This January there was the usual selection of birds to observe plus one or two unexpected visitors thrown in for good measure. All well and good, I hear you say. However (there is always a ‘however’!) this month differed from previous years in that there seemed to be a lack in the abundance of some species. Now, age in humans comes to those who wait or are fortunate enough to live a long life. Like any drug it has side effects, one being that although the mind may be willing the body is often reluctant to follow suit. Another burden purported to age is wisdom; but whether it is wisdom that I stay longer indoors at home in the warm and dry when outside it is raining and blowing a hoolie, or it is infirmity getting the better of me, I cannot say. There just seemed to be less birds about, okay!
Numbers of ducks in
general all seemed to be down; those of swans and geese appeared to be lower
than usual; waders were thin on the ground and Linnets and Twite were
frequently difficult to come by; and so on, and so on - the story repeats
itself for a range of birds.
The adorable Pale-bellied Brent Geese were at least one constant throughout the month, with over 200 regularly to be seen feeding in the grasslands beside the Wig track. Amongst them was ‘HJ’, so named because it wears a red colour-ring on each leg coded with the letter H on the right leg and J on the left. The same bird, incidentally, was also present last year. Seeing it on a more or less daily basis signifies that at least one member of the flock (and, presumably, others too) overwinter here, rather than there being a continual passage of birds moving through.
Pink-footed Geese were usually heard calling, either in the morning or in the evening when they flew over the house. The abuttal fields at Loch Connell harboured at least 2000 birds on the 16th and a similar number were in fields north of Kirkcolm, on the 20th. The ‘Connell Fields’, as our household has come to refer to them, also held a pleasant surprise - and a rare one at that - on the rainy 9th in the form of nine Greenland White-fronted Geese. Their overall dark colouration readily separated them from the other grazing geese.
Pink-footed Geese flying toward Loch Connell.
The number of Shelducks about the Wig can usually be counted on one hand, so 17 at the Scar (on the 14th) was notable. Piltanton is generally better suited to them, as evidenced by the 87 logged there during a Wetlands Bird Survey count (WeBS) on the 23rd.
Common Scoters were widely scattered across Loch Ryan and could be observed daily in small groups coming in with the rising tide. They peaked at 193 birds on the 14th. Velvet Scoters were noted on just three occasions: three males on the 8th and 9th and two males near the month’s end, on the 27th. The only Scaup at the Wig were a male and a female on the 2nd, whereas off Bishop Burn, a count of 604 was made on the 23rd.
In Wig Bay Long-tailed Ducks were conspicuous on some days but not others. Sometimes this was attributable to the weather, sometimes not. A fickle bunch of ducks, for sure! But then, with the highest gathering of birds being only eight strong (on the 17th), it is perhaps no wonder that they could easily go undetected, especially in choppy conditions when their contrasting plumage render them near invisible on the water.
The spit known as the Scar is often a place of respite for Eiders and at times large gatherings may occur there, providing an opportunity for a curious birder to separate out the sexes. In the past the bias has heavily been in favour of males, accounting for over 95% of birds. But recently, whether due to changing climate or other factors, the proportion of females has risen. Of 144 birds registered on the 4th, no less than 54 (38%) were females.
The pair of Goosanders noted last month at Wig Bay were still present to at least the 17th and were known to commute between there and the waters off Soleburn. Loch Connell held the highest count of this species, however, with 15 (including ten males) on the 22nd.
A pair of Goosanders close to shore at Wig Bay.
Although Red-throated Divers were daily visitors to Loch Ryan, numbers of them generally appeared to be on the low side, with the highest count of 39 on the 17th. Singleton Great Northern Divers were observed on the 3rd, 7th and 25th. Likewise, a Black-throated Diver was noted on three dates: the 17th, 20th and the 30th. Numerous sightings of a Pacific Diver were spread across the month. On several occasions it was the first diver of the day to be seen, coming in with the rising tide ahead of its more abundant Red-throated cousins. Maybe it spent each night closer to the mouth of the sea loch than any of its relatives, but exactly where any of them overnight is a mystery as yet unsolved. Prolonged and regular observation of the Pacific revealed an additional note of interest: whenever it dived to feed it stayed under for approximately 30 seconds; similar sized Red-throat’s in the same area submerged for an average of 50 seconds.
The 12th of the month was an extraordinary day on the Loch Ryan rarity front. Not only was there the diver species mentioned above, also, and within the same ‘scope view was a Black-necked Grebe, and mere minutes later a Great White Egret at the marsh. Interestingly, the grebe was seen again the following day at the Wig, but not thereafter. In days gone by Loch Ryan was the winter stronghold for this species but for the past ten years they have been absent.
Cormorants have been noticeably scarce about the Wig of late so it is reassuring in some small kind of way to report the eight birds at the Scar on the 14th.
Ringed Plovers adopted the usual practice of ‘now you see me, now you don’t’, but enough of them stayed together in one place for a count of 51 to be logged, on the 4th. There was only one record of Golden Plovers at the Scar: 14 on the 10th. A much larger aggregation of approximately 600 birds was recorded along the west coast of the North Rhins by my son and daughter when they walked from Dally Bay to Corsewall Point on the 5th.
Grey Plovers were seen almost daily, with probably the same four birds present throughout the month, as indeed was a Greenshank. A notable eight of the latter mentioned species was recorded at Piltanton during the WeBS count on the 23rd. Bar-tailed Godwits were sparse about the Wig but 18 on the 29th was an excellent find. Curlews were widely scattered in small groups on the exposed flats when the tide was out, or equally widespread when feeding in grasslands. One such field held a flock of 130 birds on the 3rd. A lone Purple Sandpiper at the Scar on the 19th was a rare treat.
As mentioned last month gulls are infrequently counted and, when they are, estimations are generally the order of the day. I prefer to count individuals in flocks whenever possible. An early evening gathering at the Scar on the 12th was guessed to comprise about 2000 birds, which included a definite 984 Common Gulls. The remainder, though not counted, consisted of Black-headed Gulls and a substantially larger number of Herring Gulls. The latter species is of particular interest to the gull aficionado because of the complexity and diversity of the many races - or even species, according to some authorities - that science ascribe to this species. The archetypal ‘British’ Herring Gull has a pale, silvery-grey back and upper-sides to the wings - though it should be noted that the tone of grey varies with the light conditions and the angle from which any given bird is viewed; a detail which should be considered and interpreted with the utmost caution. These are the birds you will encounter most frequently about Loch Ryan and form the bread and butter against which other variations may be assessed. Occasionally, however, there is jam to be had with your spread in the form of slightly darker-backed birds that show less black in their wing-tips: just like the two I saw at Loch Connell on the 22nd amongst 41 ‘normal’ Herring Gulls. They were probably of Scandinavian origin or a more northerly counterpart; still Herring Gulls, of course, but an interesting diversion you might wish to consider throwing into a conversation when you are next invited to a party and hanker to impress your friends! Or … maybe not … depending! But, before we leave the gull topic behind, I should mention the only sighting I had of a Mediterranean Gull this month, at Loch Connell, on the 30th: it was an adult with a well advanced, black summer hood.
'Archetypal' British Herring Gulls.
Birds of prey always seem to generate excitement among birdwatchers. January had its fair share of them. One species in particular, however, was notable by its absence, which only became apparent to me when my daughter asked: “Where have all the Buzzards gone?” My answer was twofold: “They occupy a larger territory in winter than summer, so the chances of seeing them are thus reduced; secondly, in order to conserve energy they spend more time perched on lookout posts than cycling in the air and are, consequently, less obvious.”
A spectacle on the 12th was a Merlin seen hunting a Skylark, just as the sun was setting. Such predator/prey relationships might seem macabre but they are quintessential events in nature’s struggle of survival. The pursuit was a series of fast and furious moves and countermoves, which continued for what seemed like an age but in reality must have been only a few minutes in passing. The outcome was uncertain, as my daughter and I lost sight of the engagement when the birds dropped below the hedge-line and disappeared into the deepening darkness of the advancing twilight.
Now for passerines,
which I am sorry to say, have been reduced to the mentioning of but one species
this month (excepting the Skylark, above, of course). They will rise to
prominence in a future issue of this blog, I am sure; but for now …
Yellowhammers! Once a familiar sight and sound in the countryside pretty much
everywhere they have rapidly, and dramatically, declined to become just a
memory to many folk. Nowhere is this loss more apparent than in the North
Rhins. But there is hope, if nothing more. When my son and daughter went for
their long walk on the 5th they passed the farmstead of Knocktim. Here, much to
their delight, they spied a stunning, male, Yellowhammer; and, in so doing,
they added a valuable record of the species to the archives.
Thanks to Eleanor and Benjamin Grover for providing company, and records, for this month’s posting.
