Read Online This Birding Life by Stephen Moss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Moss
Ads: Link
lacking in birdlife, especially during the middle of the day.
But if Iâm lucky, an early-morning visit may still be brightened up by the blue-and-orange flash of a Kingfisher, as it flicks from branchto branch along the waterâs edge. And the evening sees flocks of House Martins and a few Swifts hawking for flies, with the occasional Common Tern passing through.
Despite the current heatwave, it wonât be long before these birds travel south to spend the winter in Africa. As they depart, and the lush summer vegetation begins to thin out, the ducks will emerge from their dull âeclipse plumageâ into their full finery, in preparation for the autumn and winter.
Over the coming year, in this monthly column, I shall be following the fortunes of this little patch of riverside suburbia. I aim to document the changes, the arrivals and departures, and with luck, perhaps tell you about a few surprises. In the meantime, Iâd better wander over for my daily visit. I wonder what will turn up this morning?
Arrivals and departures
SEPTEMBER 1994
Itâs been just over a month now since I began to visit my new local patch. Yet already I am beginning to understand the rhythms and patterns of its birdlife. Take the locals. On regular visits, you donât just get to know familiar species, but the individuals themselves. Ever-present birds include a family party of eight Mute Swans, which have a nasty habit of harassing passers-by for food. Other regulars include a single Grey Heron, usually standing on one of the small artificial islands in the centre of the lake.
Then there are the Ruddy Duck chicks, the fourth brood here this year. These hatched around mid-August, and a couple of weeks later had dwindled in number from seven to just four. The unfortunate trio could perhaps have been taken by pike, but a more exotic culprit may have been responsible.
One sunny day last month, I glanced down at the sun-bleachedbranches of a fallen tree, poking out of the algae-covered water. There, sunning themselves like a platoon of beached submarines, were three Red-eared Terrapins. A passing jogger told me that they arrived here at the height of the Ninja Turtle craze of a few years ago. Presumably the owners, terrified by the terrapinsâ ability to eat almost anything within range of their powerful jaws, liberated them into this quiet backwater.
Whether or not Ruddy Duck chicks are on the menu, the terrapins appear to be holding their own. Some have grown to the size of dinner-plates, and with their chrome-yellow, green and black coloration, set off by the tiny red spot behind each ear, they make an interesting addition to the capitalâs fauna.
In the meantime, the local birdlife has undergone some changes, as summer passes inexorably into autumn. Duck numbers began to build up through August, with up to 40 Pochard joining the usual Tufted Ducks. Parties of Shovelers, their massive bill sifting the water surface for tiny morsels of food, have already come and gone, with the bulk passing through in the last fortnight of August. Three tiny Teal also frequented the shallows at the southern end for a day or two at that time.
Casual visitors are few and far between on the patch, perhaps because its enclosure by trees prevents migrants and other passers-by from dropping in. Nevertheless, a visiting Sparrowhawk was mobbed by a local crow, while one evening a Common Sandpiper fed along the exposed bank.
In the bird calendar, autumn is already well under way, and I donât expect to see the local Reed Warblers again until next spring. My last sighting was on the final day of August, and these tiny skulkers are now on their way to their wintering grounds south of the Sahara. Meanwhile, there are the first signs of the season to come. Tit flocks are beginning to build up, with the occasional Long-tailed Tit joining the more familiar species as they pass through the foliage, chattering and scolding as they go.
Yet
But if Iâm lucky, an early-morning visit may still be brightened up by the blue-and-orange flash of a Kingfisher, as it flicks from branchto branch along the waterâs edge. And the evening sees flocks of House Martins and a few Swifts hawking for flies, with the occasional Common Tern passing through.
Despite the current heatwave, it wonât be long before these birds travel south to spend the winter in Africa. As they depart, and the lush summer vegetation begins to thin out, the ducks will emerge from their dull âeclipse plumageâ into their full finery, in preparation for the autumn and winter.
Over the coming year, in this monthly column, I shall be following the fortunes of this little patch of riverside suburbia. I aim to document the changes, the arrivals and departures, and with luck, perhaps tell you about a few surprises. In the meantime, Iâd better wander over for my daily visit. I wonder what will turn up this morning?
Arrivals and departures
SEPTEMBER 1994
Itâs been just over a month now since I began to visit my new local patch. Yet already I am beginning to understand the rhythms and patterns of its birdlife. Take the locals. On regular visits, you donât just get to know familiar species, but the individuals themselves. Ever-present birds include a family party of eight Mute Swans, which have a nasty habit of harassing passers-by for food. Other regulars include a single Grey Heron, usually standing on one of the small artificial islands in the centre of the lake.
Then there are the Ruddy Duck chicks, the fourth brood here this year. These hatched around mid-August, and a couple of weeks later had dwindled in number from seven to just four. The unfortunate trio could perhaps have been taken by pike, but a more exotic culprit may have been responsible.
One sunny day last month, I glanced down at the sun-bleachedbranches of a fallen tree, poking out of the algae-covered water. There, sunning themselves like a platoon of beached submarines, were three Red-eared Terrapins. A passing jogger told me that they arrived here at the height of the Ninja Turtle craze of a few years ago. Presumably the owners, terrified by the terrapinsâ ability to eat almost anything within range of their powerful jaws, liberated them into this quiet backwater.
Whether or not Ruddy Duck chicks are on the menu, the terrapins appear to be holding their own. Some have grown to the size of dinner-plates, and with their chrome-yellow, green and black coloration, set off by the tiny red spot behind each ear, they make an interesting addition to the capitalâs fauna.
In the meantime, the local birdlife has undergone some changes, as summer passes inexorably into autumn. Duck numbers began to build up through August, with up to 40 Pochard joining the usual Tufted Ducks. Parties of Shovelers, their massive bill sifting the water surface for tiny morsels of food, have already come and gone, with the bulk passing through in the last fortnight of August. Three tiny Teal also frequented the shallows at the southern end for a day or two at that time.
Casual visitors are few and far between on the patch, perhaps because its enclosure by trees prevents migrants and other passers-by from dropping in. Nevertheless, a visiting Sparrowhawk was mobbed by a local crow, while one evening a Common Sandpiper fed along the exposed bank.
In the bird calendar, autumn is already well under way, and I donât expect to see the local Reed Warblers again until next spring. My last sighting was on the final day of August, and these tiny skulkers are now on their way to their wintering grounds south of the Sahara. Meanwhile, there are the first signs of the season to come. Tit flocks are beginning to build up, with the occasional Long-tailed Tit joining the more familiar species as they pass through the foliage, chattering and scolding as they go.
Yet
Similar Books
