A family of Kestrels played a part in some of our recent tours.
The young got so bold that they allowed quite a close approach as they sat on fence posts. They were quite oblivious to us as they pounced on beetles and grubs before returning to their perch.
That’s how it will be known. The Great Fall of Twenty Twelve. It started on Monday 22nd October and the after effects are still being seen as I write this note on the Friday 26th. Birds are still re-orientating themselves now the mist and fog have gone; most of the Fieldfares and Redwings have moved through but there’s still lots of Blackbirds and Ring Ouzels with seven of the latter seen today at Overstrand and Sidestrand. Yesterday we even had a Black Redstart trying to get in the house!
It was Thursday however that was ‘my’ day. Walking beneath the edge of the reservoir the call of a bird in the scrub on the bank above me made me swing around and raise my bins. It was the unmistakable call of a Pallas’s Warbler. I couldn’t see it. Frustration set in. It was constantly calling but vegetation was in the way. I moved back a little and there it was, a full crown of stripes on this bright little sprite. It was agitated as though it had just made landfall. It flicked left and then right among the nettles. It was here and then it was gone. Despite an extensive search with others disappointingly it could not be relocated. I dearly would have liked to sit for a while and photograph it.
Not so frustrating further west was a Red flanked Bluetail. This bird found by Mick Sidwell was bouncing around the small campsite wood at Stiffkey but sat up to be photographed in the dull and dingy conditions.
Now where’s that Rubythroat?
Water is the lifeblood of our countryside. It attracts all manner of wildlife; indeed it is essential for its existence. One species which is at home around it, particularly fast running water, is the Grey Wagtail.
I called at the mill race this week to photograph the Grey Wagtails nesting there. Given the dearth of fast moving streams and rivers in Norfolk the species is not common in the county.
Above all it was important not to disturb them. The welfare of the birds always comes first. I hung back to watch for a while getting a feel for their habits. I watched from a distance. Both birds, the male and female, were building a nest within the thatched roof of the building and I didn’t want to impede or distract them. I stood at the opposite side of the mill, the sunny side, out of sight. As the birds were leaving to fetch more nesting material they sometimes briefly stood on the sunlit side of the roof to take off. Completely oblivious to my presence they went about their business. It was a delight to be hidden in the shadows and listen to the rushing of the water as a spring dawn bled into late morning.
I managed, after a few hours waiting, to get one or two shots of these beautiful birds.
Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but photographs, kill nothing but time.
Letter From Norfolk 