Barry Madden, Volunteer Bird Guide at NWT Cley Marshes
Just as you think
things have really changed for the better, you turn your back and winter creeps
along to take a quick nip at your heels. So you rummage in the boot of your car
to once again adorn thick jacket, hat and gloves, find your heavy walking
boots, jut your chin into the wind and stoically set forth to spend the day on
one of the finest nature reserves in the country. Not a bad way to spend your
time in truth, and once ensconced in the hides, soaking in the panorama of
regenerating reed beds and lush green marshland, all moans about the weather
become a minor irritation and you can settle down to discover what wildlife is
on show.
I saw my
first brood of avocet chicks today, four little balls of down sandwiched
between their ever-vigilant parents. Last year the avocets did remarkably well here
at Cley Marshes, with large numbers of chicks reaching the flying stage. Hopefully
this year they can repeat that success, but the odds are stacked against them.
The weather can create problems with cold and wet spells taking their toll. And
then there are crows, kestrels, herons, marsh harriers, stoats, rats and foxes
to contend with, not to mention hungry gulls, grumpy coots and bickering adults
of their own kind. They have a challenging few weeks ahead of them. This was
cruelly illustrated later in the day when the target of a clamouring group of
adults proved to be a carrion crow that had managed to snatch a newly hatched chick,
perhaps only a few hours out of the egg.
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| Linnet, photo by Barry Madden |
A walk along
East bank revealed no obvious migrants other than a light westerly passage of
swifts and martins, and the raucous screeches of sandwich terns could no longer
be heard from Arnold’s Marsh; the birds have moved to their breeding grounds a
few miles to the west. With very little birdlife evident on the sea or the
beach, I sought refuge in North hide. It was a similar story here with very few
waders on show, and so to avoid the cold wind blasting straight into my face, I
turned my position and my attention to a twittering linnet perched atop a blaze
of gorse. As I watched this brightly coloured little finch proclaiming rights
to his coconut scented oasis, the sun briefly broke through the clouds
illuminating his fine livery to maximum effect. For a few brief moments I was
able to really appreciate the combination of rosy pink, grey, buff and brown, made
more vivid when highlighted against the backdrop of the threatening deep blue
clouds. Such a lovely little bird, but one that is largely overlooked on the
basis that it is relatively common; we really should take more time to admire
these familiar species, after all they are the bedrock of our avian fauna and are
quite lovely in their own right.
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| Sand martin, photo by Barry Madden |
Some other
familiar and often overlooked birds formed the focus (literally) of attention
later in the afternoon, where from Bishop’s hide a group of us tried our hand
at photographing sand martins. These welcome migrants were still passing
through in small numbers and some stayed for a few minutes to snatch a few
insects or to quench their thirst. Battling against the strong wind, these
jaunty birds sometimes seemed to move in slow motion, and that is when the
photographer can strike. Even so, it was a frustrating business with much muted
cursing, consequent giggling and the occasional murmur of satisfaction rippling
amongst those assembled. It was quite refreshing to concentrate on something as
unremarkable as sand martins for a change, and at least five people spent the
best part of an hour watching them – and what excellent entertainment it was! The
light was poor, the wind was cruel, the birding a bit low key, but it didn’t
matter. As one visitor remarked today ‘we just love it here’.
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