My peak count of Canada Geese at Loch Connell this month was 204 on the 18th. Unusually, a lone individual was present at the Scar on the 8th. Pale-bellied Brent Geese were of course seen daily about the Wig, most often in the adjacent fields where they grazed the grassy sward. Flocks of over 200 birds were logged on 17 days, with the highest count of 384 on the 14th. On the same day, I noticed…with some despair…that out of a party of 252 Brents only four were juveniles.
Pink-footed Geese were heard more times than they were seen; I did however manage to register in excess of 260 at Loch Connell on the 4th. My only record of Mute Swan on my local patch also came from the aforementioned site - a singleton on the 28th. The same location held two Whooper Swans on the 12th and again on the 18th and just a single there on the 28th. A pair of Shelduck at the Pool Field on the 8th were my first of the new year; they were also the only ones of their type on my patch throughout the month.
A nice find at Loch Connell on the 4th was a party of three Pintail and a duck Shoveler. Three males of the latter species were present on the very same body of freshwater on the 18th, along with the highest monthly count of 188 Teal. My peak count of Wigeon also came from this site: 224 birds, on the 12th, whereas at the Wig my highest tally of this species was just 84 on the 28th.
The poor weather that dominated the month certainly affected my counts of Common Scoters on the sea-loch, with a high of 38 on the 8th and 9th. In complete contrast, I logged a minimum of 250 Eider, also on the 8th. But even if my efforts resulted in a very reasonable tally of the last mentioned species other users of Loch Ryan were well below parr and inline with the scoters. I saw few Goldeneye in Wig Bay but that was compensated for by a greater than usual number of birds at Loch Connell, with a peak count of 32 on the 8th. Back on the sea-loch and the largest party of Long-tailed Duck that I saw was 14 on the 1st.
The freshwater of Loch Connell held a single Pochard on the 12th and three on my next visits there on the 18th and 28th; one bird was a handsome drake (presumable the same bird from the first mentioned sighting), another a female, and the gender of the third bird I couldn’t quite decide upon. Tufted Duck was well represented on this same body of shallow water, with 38 present on the 18th and the 28th. A lesser number of Goosander were also here, with a high of 16 birds on the 2nd. On loch Ryan, my peak count of Red-breasted Merganser was just 30 birds, on the 8th.
At the time of writing I recall a very recent photograph that was sent to my daughter (and which she kindly shared with me) of a large group of Black-throated Diver close inshore off the coast of the Isle of Man. There were 29 birds, I am told. Geographically, this island lies only about 30 miles south of the Mull of Galloway, and the Rhrins, but despite its close proximity I cannot say that I have ever seen so many of the present species close to my local patch, even when sea-watching from Corsewall Point, which is just around the corner, so to speak, from Loch Ryan. A mere two birds seen off the Wig on the 8th was my highest tally of this species during the month, and they were more than enough to raise my heartbeat: anymore might have been sufficient to induce a cardiac arrest!
Interestingly, I recorded Great Northern Diver on six, almost consecutive (not on the 11th), days up to and including the 12th of the month. I saw six birds on the 8th and three on the 9th, one of which was an adult in full breeding dress. Nice! Red-throated Diver was thin on the ground - or, should that be water - with a high of 28 on the 8th. Notable was the presence of four Great Crested Grebe (including a displaying pair - perhaps the same birds from last year?) At Loch Connell, on the 18th. Slavonian Grebe on Loch Ryan were sparse (according to my records, that is) with a peak count of 20 on the 8th.
Three Bar-tailed Godwit frequented the shoreline of the Wig for most of the month. Curlew are typically most numerous in the fields beside the sea-loch, or on the shore itself, but this January my peak count of the species came from Loch Connell where I registered 64 birds on the 28th. Dunlin, perhaps not surprisingly, were few: two consorted with a flock of Ringed plover on the Twite Field, on the 8th and 9th. The largest squadron of Golden Plover comprised 24 birds at the Scar on the 6th, whereas just a singleton Grey Plover occupied the same station on the 1st to the 4th, then again on the 17th. Six Knot were at the Scar on the 13th. More frequent here were Ringed Plover, with a peak of 60 birds on the 31st. Their white bellies often catch the light, betraying their presence to me even from a distance of over a kilometre away when I view the spit from the comfort of my house. The poor weather conditions have generally not been kind for armchair viewing so luck has played a significant part in many an observation this month.
To the layperson a Herring Gull is just ‘gull’. But to those who take a particular interest in the group of birds that science banners ‘gulls’, things are a bit more complex, with clinal and subspecies differences as well as intergrades and hybrids. Ignorance, it is said, is no excuse in the eyes of the law; but perhaps it is an acceptable, and understandable, one when it comes to the difficulty of determining type, wherever gulls are concerned! But I digress…
A Herring Gull at the Scar, on the 7th, caught my eye. It was larger than its kindred and unlike them it’s back was a slightly but distinctly darker shade of grey. I surmised that it was a bird of the nominate subspecies (ie not the British form) and judging by the small amount of black it showed in its wing-tips that it was of ‘high arctic’ origin. Why was it here? Only the bird knows that, and seeing as it is unlikely to tell me…should I ever encounter it again..its presence will remain a mystery. Gulls are certainly never boring: you just have to be a person of a particular persuasion and mind-set in order to appreciate them, me thinks!
The persistent squalls and grey days that dominated the month meant that I saw few Tysties (Black Guillemots) on Loch Ryan. However, conditions were in my favour on the 8th and I successfully logged 28, several of which were already attired in their striking-looking black overcoats with bold white shoulder patches. Alas, they were just too distant for me to pick out their bright red legs which so exemplify the species and adds an extra sparkle to their appearance. The rough winds also resulted in there being few Shags sat atop the derelict pier at Cairnryan. During the same bright interval that I counted the preceding species, I registered a tally of 84 birds; none of them, however, were on the pier!
In the finches department, Bullfinch has become something of a regular entry within this blog of late. Like many so-called ‘common birds’ this species is perhaps more frequently occurring than ever my few records suggest. Its rather discrete behaviour probably accounts for this, and although colourful and boldly marked it is quiet - not necessarily shy - but elusive and wary. A male was once again seen on several occasions in my garden, plus I recorded a pair in ‘wilder’ habitat (marshy woodland, or carr) on the 8th. On the same day, I noted eight Greenfinch along the Wig track - my only record of the species during the month. I hadn’t seen any Lesser Redpoll on my local patch for seemingly an age, until the 5th when five birds flew over my garden, making a welcome return in my logbook.
The identification of distant flocks of finches is always going to be an issue when species determination is the order of the day. Experience has taught me that congregations of such birds on the fields at the Wig are likely to comprise of either Linnet, Twite, or both. This is especially the case when obvious markings cannot readily be observed, or characteristic calls heard. Falling into this category were flocks of 30, 50 and 40 birds, which were respectively logged on the 6th, 10th and 19th. A lone Siskin in my garden, on the 10th, was my only observation of this ‘common’ species during the month.
I round up this month’s posting by commenting upon several other species which, mainly out of an innate curiosity, peaked my interest. First off, Coot. And for this species I take you to Loch Connell - a delightful expanse of freshwater which at first glance might have any viewer thinking that it should support Coots galore. But in truth, it does not. An occasional pair may attempt to breed - once in a blue moon - but more typically they are relatively infrequent visitors in very small numbers: four birds on the 18th was a good count. Jay, as I have mentioned in previous postings, are now scarce birds on my patch. A singleton observed in the old cemetery on the Corsewall Estate, on the 8th, was a pleasant surprise. Similarly, a Kestrel seen over the village of Kirkcolm on the 17th resurrected fond memories of this once common species. There is something special about Ravens, which guarantees them my attention whenever I see or hear birds calling. To see a pair of birds is not unusual, largely because they breed on my door-step, so to speak; but on the 12th a party of three birds caught my eye, raising questions within me: ‘were they a family unit? Was it my local pair with another just tagging along for company, or were they just roving individuals that had come together from elsewhere to explore new territory?’ Redwing are said to be common winter visitors to Britain but where I live they are often few and far between, if my logbooks are any indication of their status locally. I was reminded of this when I registered a mere four birds on the 2nd, one on the 6th and four on the 18th. Skylarks also were thin on the ground this month. I had a single record of two birds at the Wig fields on the 7th. The same day I espied an unexpected visitor in the churchyard across the road from my house - a lovely pinky-ochre coloured Waxwing. A fitting bird on which to end, me thinks, so until next time, ‘may the birds ever be in your favour!’
