The best thing about our birding tours is you never know what you will stumble across; it’s never just about birds.
In a remote Scottish Valley earlier this month we came across a small heard of feral goats. Among them were a couple of young ones. They looked a lot cuter than some of the adults, which to me can look a little sinister. I couldn’t resist taking a photo.
This weekend we had a family day out and while we were up in Yorkshire I had a trip down memory lane.
Next year’s birders short week in Scotland is in the planning stage and after discussion with several guests on this year’s tour it became apparent that an overnight stop off on the way to and from Scotland would be an improvement. I used to be taken as a boy to the Yorkshire Dales and one of the sites there would suit the bill for one of the stops. A day spare on the way back from the family gathering gave opportunity for reconnoitre around the site I had in mind.
My word the area had changed. No longer the rough tumbling footpath through the riparian woods; a neat level replacement was now in place. There was still the carpet of Bluebells and more wild garlic than I remember but the sessile Oaks that line the valleys in the upper reaches were still as beautiful as they ever were.
The birds were there in good number. We were greeted by a Wood Warbler belting out his song that we could hear from over 400m away. He gave me the second opportunity to photograph this species in as many weeks. Redstarts were around and Pied Flycatchers were flitting from branch to branch collecting insects… Just as I remember.
Dippers have featured quite often in Letter from Norfolk posts over the last few months. However, I couldn’t resist including another shot taken on the Scottish Short Week Tour earlier this month.
This individual posed patiently as it collected insect after insect before returning to feed its young in the nest tucked away under a small bridge.
Marvellous how it managed to catch the next without losing the ones already collected.
Winter will just not give on its grip this year. With temperatures much lower than the norm everything is much later. The Bluebells have not long been in flower, almost a month late.
Walking in the local woodland a sea of blue carpeted the floor. The odd shaft of light lit up the flowers in a luminescent blue that made you forget the cold wind. Among them a different form. The equivalent of the ‘black sheep’ in floral terms this white bluebell was a lone beacon of light under the dark canopy.
I have had several requests asking if I have other photographs of the Suffolk Red footed Falcon. So I have published some others at the end of the latest section on the ‘Wildcatch Photography’ site. I hope you like them.
We watched a wonderful display at the weekend. On a bright warm day among a group of around half a dozen hobbies hawking a reedbed was an interloper. A Red Footed Falcon from the east was among them. Not just a Red Footed Falcon but a stylish male. Dressed in a cloak of grey with bright highlights he took insects we could barely see within those red talons and transferred them to his bill in one smooth movement.
On last week’s Scottish Birding Tour to Speyside and the Isles of Skye we heard the uplifting call of the Wood Warbler coming from high in the mature trees. It wasn’t long before we saw the silky white underparts capped with the lemon yellow that make this species so distinct. It took a little longer however to get a decent shot of him.
Such a great place Scotland … filled with some great birds. Next year’s four day tour is already on the website.
A Whitethroat and his intended have taken up residence aside a pair of Lesser Whitethroats at Falcon Cottage this spring. Each male takes it in turn to scratch out a tune from the top of the hawthorns.
Seen on one of our tours at the beginning of the month.
Heineken don’t do Pigeons … but if they did …
There were a lot of superlatives being heard on one of the tours last week as we stood and watched four or five Black terns dipping down to the broad to feed.
However, one young mother was herding her brood away. Quite unimpressed at the terns and the on-looking birders she was shifting her family across the broad to somewhere a little quieter.
Letter From Norfolk 