Eye eye.

Eye to eye with a Southern Hawker on a tour the other week.

 

More goodies to come?

After the gift laden easterlies of early September we’ve now entered a phase of unpredictable South Westerly’s. The birds here on the hill and beyond that arrived on the easterlies have gradually dripped away to their wintering grounds. The confiding Whinchat below was the last to leave.

No doubt an easterly element to the wind in October will bring more goodies. I await them with anticipation.

 

 

 

Yellow browed Warblers

After a patient wait the other week a shouty Yellow browed Warbler came into the near side of the apple tree at Burnham Overy. A rather quieter bird at Salthouse was equally elusive but in surprisingly little cover. It seemed to frequently employ a cloak of invisibility.

 

Notice the long supercillium and the prominent median crown stripe on the lower Salthouse bird. Not completely out of kilter with what you would expect for a yellow browed …but still something that made me look twice!

It’s shaping up into a very good Autumn!

 

You’re barred

Didn’t anyone tell the Barred Warbler frequenting Granbro’ Hill at Salthouse that it’s not a shrike? This normally shy species was ridiculously confiding.

 

 

OBP

To any autumn bird watcher those three initials; O.B.P., can mean only one thing … Olive Backed Pipit.

This bird of the Siberian Taiga was formerly known as Indian Tree Pipit and can be as crepuscular as it’s possible for a bird to be. One lurking in the very dark depths of the long grass and brambles within the wooded area of Wells next the Sea known as the Dell set birders a challenge to see it let alone permit its image to be stolen. Getting a 400mm F2.8 lens atop a fully extended tripod into a suitable position among brambles, rose suckers and miscellaneous vegetation at a time when the bird showed was more good luck than judgement. I’m still pulling out the thorns.

 

 

Wheatchat

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A few early migrants on the hill at the beginning of September; a Wheatear and two Whinchats were scattered around the place, grounded due to a persistent Harr just inland. They were tired and no doubt hungry. As the sun broke through and warmed them they all took to feeding and moving on.

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Privileged

Despite it being quite grey and sometimes wet I felt quite privileged yesterday. We were watching and photographing the three Red breasted Flycatchers at Burnham Overy. They showed better than I have every seen this species previously. Here’s a little indulgence of photographs.

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Defensive Chiffchaffs and Robins

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The Hill gave up very little on Sunday morning. A Whinchat and a trio of Wheatear were the best it could offer and we’d probably been acquainted with those birds previously.

Even an early morning call from Paul regarding Dolphins heading my way unfortunately came to nothing. It wasn’t until late afternoon that things came to life with the easterlies gaining momentum

A visit to the valley bottom gave the first surprise. On exiting the car I heard it shout. The eruptive call of a Yellow browed is unmistakable. Although elusive the distinctive olive green upperparts, silky white unders and wingbars gained a piecemeal confirmation. A defensive Chiffchaff making claim against invasion soon saw off the northern sprite. Despite an hour of patient listening I didn’t hear him shout again. Perhaps he’ll call more when he’s rested.

I went to the cliff top to re-photograph the coneheads and Bush crickets – this time taking a bat detector!

We had often talked about the wood on the cliff and how nothing was ever found there. As I walked through the trees I was surprised therefore (for the second time in the day) to see a bird perched. It was nothing more than a silhouette but before I raised my bins I knew what it was. The drooped winds and cocked tail all screamed Red breasted Flycatcher. The white I saw at the base of the tail made me smile. I reached for the camera and the bird dropped from sight … replaced by a Robin; two birds in the wood! I didn’t see it again despite Rose, Paul and Greg quickly on site. Elating but frustrating. Damn Chiffs and Robins.

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The damn Chiffy – one of the offending defenders.

I could hear the rain in the night drumming on the skylights. Surely both birds would stop and I’d get more prolonged views next morning. I resolved to get up early.

As I exited the door this morning there was a detonation of red from the laurel hedge that could have been nothing other than a Redstart. It was. This bode well. I watched it quiver a while and then made my way to the clifftop. I had not gone far before the heavy moist air was punctuated by a shape in the mist. I expected a large gull. I raised my bins and squinted. The form of an Osprey materialised; making it’s way laboriously east. I heard later it was seen mid morning further south at Horsey. The phone went and I was called away by the promise of a Paddyfield Warbler. Sadly despite much looking and listening it came to nothing. It had moved on.

I looked later for the Yellow browed and the RB Fly, but saw nothing. The wood and everywhere else was emptied of everything but a few Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps.

Ah well! … it was good while it lasted.

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A Bush but no bird

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I couldn’t hear them. I’ve not lost the top end of my hearing range as yet; I’ve just never been able to hear frequency that high. I can still hear Goldcrest and Firecrest as well as Savi’s Warblers. My friend Andrew however has the hearing of a dog. He could hear them.

Staring into a tuft of grass he’d say “yep, here’s a Roesel’s calling and there’s a Conehead stridulating to your right”.

Really?

I’ll be buggered if I could hear them. I need to take a bat detector next time.

Both Roesel’s Bush Cricket and Long Winged Conehead are recent immigrants into Norfolk (first seen in 1997 and 2000 respectively) and I have to thank Andrew for pointing them out to me.

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The World Wide Web of Wildlife

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We were only saying at the weekend how good it was to see so many insects on the ivy flowers. The sound of bees and hoverflies was almost deafening. It was good to see.

Here at Falcon Cottage we don’t use chemicals in the garden and try to stick to native plants. We want wildlife to be at home here and one of the key factors of this is getting the environment right. Why does this sometimes get overlooked out there, beyond the sycamores at the end of the garden, in the wider world? Sure it’s ok to (re)introduce the large raptors but would it pay better dividends to start closer to the base of the food chain rather than the apex; get the foundations right and everything above will be of sound construction. Get the environment right and nature will move in. She will do the rest. The whole web of life means everything relies upon something else; everything is connected. Everything joined by fragile and sometimes tenuous links to every other living thing. Us included.

Despite walking the whole hill here on Wednesday I couldn’t find a single migrant passerine. It was only later during the afternoon did a Pied Flycatcher drop by to feed at the larder of insects that were themselves feeding on the ivy.

One of the Hoverflies gorging on the pollen was a Death’s Head Fly – Myathropa florea; named because of the so called death mask on its back. I think it looks more like the ‘batman’ symbol. Maybe nature is sending up a signal calling for a superhero to come along and rescue us from insecticides and over cultivation.

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