I associate the month of August with the dispersal of birds away from their natal areas. With that in mind there were eight Canada Geese at Loch Connell on the 5th increasing to 53 on the 16th, when amongst their ranks was an oddity in the form of a Canada X Barnacle Goose hybrid. At the same site the pair of Greylags and their single edged offspring were joined by a roaming party of 41 other feral birds, also on the 16th.
At Loch Ryan I logged 16 Mute Swans on the 1st, rising to 30 birds on the 30th. A pair with nine cygnets (which I presumed were the birds from Agnew Park, on the Stranraer waterfront) had paddled their way as far up the sea-loch as Leffnoll, on the 3rd. The pair at Loch Connell, along with their two cygnets, stayed put throughout the month. My only record of Shelduck was of three at the Wig on the 6th.
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| Field sketch of Mute Swan cygnet at Loch Connell, 2nd of August |
I spent a memorable couple of hours at Loch Connell on the 30th of the month where, amongst others, was a fine array of waterfowl. There was a drake and duck Gadwall, 98 Mallard, three Shoveler, 23 Teal, plus a female with six ducklings (the first successful breeding of this species here in a long time), and six male Wigeon in their drab eclipse plumage.
On Loch Ryan, I noted but a single Common Scoter on the 26th and the 30th, which was less than I had expected. Eider were better represented, with a peak count of 209 on the 11th. A singleton Tufted Duck was at Loch Connell on the 12th, whilst 140 Red-breasted Merganser on the sea-loch was a most welcome entry in my logbook on the 29th.
Not unexpectedly, divers were absent from this month’s dataset. The two pairs of Great Crested Grebes at Loch Connell were present throughout the month. The appearance of the three youngsters of the pairs changed with each visit I made to the site, getting that little bit bigger with a corresponding alteration in plumage as their down was replaced by more resilient feathers. Come the end of the month they were close to juvenile-looking (as shown in the illustrations of many a field guide) but still retained a few downy plumes here and there, making them somewhat comical in appearance at times. The second breeding pair were still incubating at the month’s end but I suspect that for all their protracted effort and diligence the prospects of them raising a brood this year are probably slim. On the 10th, I noticed that an additional and ‘proper-looking’ juvenile had joined those already there: it, too, remained thereafter. Also at this freshwater site were several Little Grebe, with a peak count of nine adults on the 30th. It was on the 23rd however that Dabchick became a highlight of my visit when I noticed a pair of proud-looking parents tending a brood of four chicks. I saw my first Red-necked Grebe of the autumn period at Wig Bay on the 6th. It was a lone adult, handsome in its summer-dress. What I especially liked was that the observation provided me with the opportunity to try out a russet coloured crayon that I had recently added to my field box of art equipment. (Mental note: for the bird’s neck colour the addition of a tad of scarlet and a smidgeon of vermillion is required, with a splash of alizarin crimson in the shadow areas).
I recorded a fair selection of waders this month. Black-tailed Godwit are never the commonest of species on my local patch but what they lack in abundance they make up for in sheer elegance and beauty. Loch Connell held a singleton on the 2nd and ended the month with an impressive party of 30 birds (on the 30th) which flew in from over the intervening hilltop the west (and Loch Ryan), alighting on the margins of one side of the pool before quickly removing themselves to the other side. They were all gorgeous adults sporting stunning brick-red colouration on the underside of their bodies from belly upwards. This feature, in combination with the striking black and white of the upper surface of their wings, their white vents and rumps tipped with a solid black tail, and trailing legs, created ever changing patterns of delight as they speedily winged across the loch. Oh, to be an artist capable of capturing such splendour: I dream on!
Equally pleasing to my eyes was the flock of 51 Curlew that loafed and foraged amongst the grass and rushy tussocks of the Pool Field on the 11th. Whereas the flight of the preceding species made for bold contrasting patterns that would confuse any would be predator, Curlew rely on more subtle tones of plumage to help camouflage them on the ground. To those readers who also have an aeronautical interest, then my analogy of godwits being the Red Arrows and curlews the ‘stealth planes’ equivalents might be better understood than by those that don’t.
Dunlin are fascinating small birds of the shoreline. Usually when I see on I home in on the length of its bill because, depending upon from what part of the world the bird originates the food supply and and the environment of that region is likely to influence its length. You are what you eat, or so they say. In realty, the situation is not as simple as might first appear for any prospective viewer contemplating such a task; there are other things to consider in attempt to distinguish between the ten races of this species that have so far been identified. Birds from the far north generally have longer bills than those from, say, Britain. Some birds from Greenland are known to have fairly short and less obviously curved beaks (plumage can also be paler than that of our birds, more silvery-grey like that of juvenile Sanderling). Then of course there are sexual differences, with females generally longer bills than males, as often may be detected when studying groups of Curlew, for example. With a guesstimated worldwide population of 5.5 million Dunlin, and the great variably amongst races and individual birds, it is perhaps futile in trying assign a race to those birds that I see on the beaches of the Wig. But where is the fun and education in not trying? And with such a small sample to contend with - a maximum flock size this month of just six birds on the 16th and 18th - a few moments spent looking just a little longer and harder at each subject cannot surely be without reward or merit.
It came as a surprise to me when checking over my records for the month that I had logged only one observation of Golden Plover: a singleton, still in handsome breeding plumage, at the Scar on the 7th. Perhaps I had forgotten to enter other sightings - a sign, I am told, of advancing age! Anyway, it happens, especially when there are many other temptations at hand to divert ones attention. I saw a Greenshank at Loch Connell on the 10th and perhaps the same bird there again on the 12th. A singleton was at the Scar on the 21st. The aforementioned site also held a princely three Grey Plover on the 11th - my first of the autumn. Here too was a party of 12 Knot on the 7th and four on the 30th.
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| Lapwings above Loch Connell on 30th August |
Although I may have not logged many Lapwing (a not unusual occurrence) there was a noticeable passage of birds from the beginning to the end of the month. All of the records were from Loch Connell, a traditional stop-off location. The peak count of birds was 46 on the 30th. As was to be expected the numbers of Oystercatcher about Wig Bay increased as the passage of waders gained momentum. 104 birds on the 21st was a reasonable enough count considering the changeable weather that marked the month. That same weather undoubtedly accounts for the the presence of 23 Redshank (a high number for this locality) at the Scar on the 21st and another party of birds there on the 29th.
Despite the fact that Ringed Plover are one of the commoner species of wader to be found on the shoreline of Wig Bay, their bold black, white and sandy-brown plumage (which make them so obvious looking in illustration on the pages of a field guide) is the very reason that this disruptive pattern effectively hides them amongst the pebbles and sand of the shore. I sometimes think that I have made a reasonably accurate count of the birds, only to discover my error when others seemingly emerge from what I had previously taken to be stones - a sudden twitch here, an impulsive preen, or a scamper across the beach all betray their presence to me. A tally of 80 birds on the 7th left me wondering how many others I had missed. Just two observation of Ruff were entered into mu logbook this month.Both were of singletons: a bird at Loch Connell on the 2nd and another at the Scar on the 5th. The latter site held three adult Sanderling on the 4th, one on the 7th and two on the 21st. All of my records of Snipe were from Loch Connell, with four on the 2nd, five on the 16th and four on the 30th. Sightings of Turnstone, on the other hand, were restricted to the seashore: a high of nine birds was registered at the Scar on the 21st.
Birds that were either absent previously, or few in number, can quite literally increase overnight, particularly after a storm. For some species however their infiltration can be more subtle until, by chance, you think to yourself ‘crikey … where did they all come from.’ Well, that was the sense I got when my eyes were confronted by a flock of 84 Common Gull in one of the Wig fields, on the 11th. In the Herring Gull nest on the chimney stack of a property in the village of Kirkcolm, I saw two chicks on the 1st that were close to fledging. A day or so later, one bird whilst exercising its wings, fell off the roof and - not yet strong enough for sustained flight - remained on the ground, joining its brother or sister which had suffered a similar mishap a few weeks before. Both ‘grounded’ bird continued to be fed and defended from passers-by in the street. This I know only too well because I happened to be one of the folk who so rudely used the pavement to the disgust of the parent birds! Fortunately, Herring Gull are more about false bravado rather than actual intent to harm, with fake dive bombing attacks at trespassers, veering off before any physical impact can occur. Lesser Black-backed Gulls become more frequent visitors to my local patch during the month of August. On the 25th I was delighted to watch first, eight birds, then 16 fly past the Scar, heading towards Stranraer.
During the morning of the 5th a small group of eight Arctic Tern settled on the Scar. When they came in their obvious paleness against the grey of the sky and the sea drew my attention but as soon as they settled and hunkered down they were all but lost from sight. Had I not seen them alight then I probably would never have known that they were there. Sandwich Tern were seen in varying numbers most days. I confess, I was expecting to larger flocks than I did but that is the way the cookie crumbles, I guess. Upon reflection, a high of 41 at the Scar on the 11th was not so bad a tally.
So far this year I have seen very few Black Guillemot in Wig Bay, or indeed elsewhere on the parts of Loch Ryan that I can readily view from my home viewing station. There are multiple reasons why this may be so. It would thus be premature of me to cast a decision on the matter but my gut instinct is one of concern. With only a single record of just one bird seen on the 10th, I can only hope that my initial suspicions will be proved wrong as the year progresses. I had, unusually, more sightings of Razorbill than I did of the preceding species, with singletons on the 6th and 13th and two on the 23rd. Gannet were adequately represented over Loch Ryan, with a high of 20 birds logged on the 5th. There were 30 Cormorant (five of which were juveniles, instantly recognisable by their contrasting white bellies) at the Scar on the 10th, although my peak count of them on the sea-loch was 46 on the 16th. Shag numbered 81 on the dilapidated pier at Cairnryan on the 21st. Two juvenile Little Egret were regularly seen at the Wig throughout the month, ranging widely and catching the attention of many none bird orientated locals in the process.
A couple of the month’s highlights were raptors (birds of prey). A female Marsh Harrier at Loch Connell on the 30th had the lapwings in a state of constant panic; the Teal were also on the alert and wary, whilst the grebes submerged in advance of the approaching hawk; in contrast the large plump Mallards seemed to show no signs of concern, presumably thinking themselves too large to be on the harrier’s menu. I had to smile when this thought crossed my mind because many years ago I recall seeing a much smaller aerial predator - a female Sparrowhawk - attack and dispatch a drake Mallard: carrying off its prize was, however, a very different proposition entirely, I recall, requiring the utmost determination from the raptor. Ungainly it certain was, with the bird moving along in leaps and bounds under the weight of its prey. Eventually it conceded, overcome by the struggle, so ate its meal out in the openers of a field. But enough anecdotes and back to this month’s report. Four separate observations of Osprey combine to make up the second highlight. On the 11th a bird came from the direction of Loch Connell and drifted low over the burn outlet at the bottom of Fisher Lane. At the time my camera, which I often carry with me in the hope of capturing images of events such as this, was fitted with a long- Tom (a lens with a large focal length eminently suitable for capturing birds at a distance). Unfortunately, the bird passing over my head was so close that only a small part of it appeared in the frame and focusing, because of the short distance involved, was impossible. The next bird up was at Loch Connell, on the 16th: an all too brief sighting, glimpsed as it headed back towards the sea-loch over the intervening hill. The third bird I saw sat out on that spit of land known as the Scar during the early morning of the 25th. There it stayed for a considerable length of time eating the fish it had caught. It looked great through the high magnification of my fieldscope but, alas, it appeared as no more than a dot through the lens on my camera. A few days later, on the 29th, another Osprey sat on the Scar. It was even further away from me than the previous bird because this time I was enjoying views (again, through my ‘scope) from the comfort of home.
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| Field sketches of a female Marsh Harrier at Loch Connell on the 30th of August |
In order for people to relate to a concept, such as the autumn passage of birds, logic dictates that there has to be a beginning, a middle and an end part. There also has to be a place, for reference purposes where to apply the arbitrary notions that we have just devised can be applied. Enter the local patch where, through the act of regular monitoring, we can employ this aspect of our bold scheme to understanding nature. I use House Martin as this month’s example of how the princle works in practice. Anyway, readers, I’m sure you will get the gist of my endeavour. Thus, on the 2nd, I logged 28 birds, followed by 46 on the 5th, 86 on the 21st, 120 on the 23rd, which suddenly increased to 240 the next day (24th), and finally 253 on the 28th. An obvious build-up, there is no doubt, and which may continue into next month, to be followed by a decline as the passage period draws to a close. Numbers of Sand Martin at Loch Connell peaked at 28 on the 12th, while Swallows over the village of Kirkcolm rose to 80 birds on the 16th. A count of six Swifts on the 4th was an excellent record, with the last observation of the month being of two birds on the 7th.
On the 11th, I was both surprised and delighted to find a Cetti’s Warbler in a tangle of Himalayan Balsm that grows next to the seashore. Single Chiffchaffs were in my garden on the 5th, 14th, 18th and 21st, where also there were singleton Whitethroats on the 2nd, 5th and 7th and four Willow Warblers on the 6th. The latter species was also recorded from within the grounds of the Corsewall Estate, including an especially lovely juvenile (more accurately, a first-winter bird) with bright green uppers and yellow underparts, which was observed on the 25th.
To round up this month’s offering I give brief details of a few other birds. Black Redstart is of course notable in any part of Britain. At the Wig they are a distinct rarity so I was more than pleased to having stumbled upon one flitting about the beach and car park at the Wig during the early morning of the 21st. At this time of year Carrion Crows often gather in loose-knit flocks along the beach; I saw a party of 20, on the 5th, which included three of the local hybrid ‘Hoody’ look-a-likes. August is also the time when House Sparrows flock, their numbers boosted greatly by juveniles of the year. In my garden I registered over 100 birds on the 26th and 28th. Often, when I am in the house, I hear their garrulous chatter coming from the densely leaved shrubs outside; sometimes that chatter stops abruptly and all goes deadly silent until the bushes explode into life as birds disperse in all directions at the presence of an incoming Sparrowhawk.
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| Sparrowhawk on the lookout for its next meal |
The jewel-like Kingfisher that I saw at Loch Connell on the 23rd should not have come as the surprise that it was to me, given the season. I was just startled because perched directly next to the bird was a giant in the reptilian-like form of a Cormorant. The larger bird I had noticed first; it was a while later that curiosity drew my gaze to the tiny dazzling blob immediately to the left of the Cormorants huge paddle-like feet: with a quick re-adjustment of focus to my ’scope the bird, and its outrageous colouration was revealed in all its glory.
Like many other birds Linnet also form roving flocks, their numbers often swelled at this time by accompanying Chaffinch and Goldfinch, amongst others. It is therefore not always an easy task to separate and count the individual species that comprise a flock, especially when they appear as a swirling mass. Patience and perseverance is obviously the way forward in such circumstances but, often as not, entries in my notebooks just reads ‘finches’ followed by the estimated number of birds involved. I did however succeed in making a count of one flock on the 25th which solely comprised 113 Linnet. Lastly, I conclude with Wheatear, with my first sighting of the autumn period being a lone bird at the Wig on the 21st and the second, a singleton at Loch Connell on the 30th.
Content provided courtesy of the author, S. Grover
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