Are re-introductions justified?

I recently took a trip to Aston Rowant in Oxfordshire to see the Red Kites, and what a sight they are! Having read that they are there in numbers, I was still unprepared for the sight of so many of these beautiful birds in the sky at any one time.

Nevertheless, it crossed my mind that the sight would have been even more wonderful had the birds arrived there under their own wing-power.

When I lived in Somerset we would expect a few Kites crossing the River Severn from Wales every year, so it would probably have been only a matter of time before they reached what are obviously ideal conditions for them in Oxfordshire.

I still recall the thrill of seeing my first inland Peregrine, and my first Common Buzzard wheeling above a Devon hillside, after the population crashes of the 1960's and '70's, and the joy I had in watching the gradual recovery of both these iconic birds, would, I am sure, have been diminished had their numbers been artificially boosted by imports.

In the case of the Red Kites, and to a lesser extent the White-tailed Eagle and the Common Crane, you could argue that we are simply helping things along, as we have helped these same birds to virtual extinction in Great Britain. Left to their own devices, and with no interference from Mankind, the chances are that they would eventually re-colonise these iislands by themelves.

But what about the Great Bustard project? The last native bird was shot about 150 years ago. The chances of a natural re-colonisation are remote in the extreme, bearing in mind the distance to the nearest wild population, and the fact that the Great Bustard is recorded as only a very rare vagrant to these shores.

I saw one of the Salisbury Plain birds about 3 years ago at the foot of the Mendip Hills in the company of a herd of Mute Swans. Although it was exciting to see, it failed to stimulate the imagination the way a truly wild bird would have done. The large orange wing-tag bearing the number 15 may have had something to do with it!

Having said all that, I can still marvel at the grace and beauty of the Kites, and no doubt I shall be equally thrilled at the sight of a White-tailed Eagle, or to hear the bugling of the Common Cranes.

How not to photograph birds

Took the camera for another walk today. I do this from time to time, but somehow it seldom gets used to the extent that I had intended.

The trouble is that as soon as I get in the hide and set up my tripod, telescope, camera, binoculars, notebook, sandwiches and coffee flask, (I believe in travelling light) I start scanning and before long I forget that I ever had any intention of photographing birds when I set out.

Although I have taken a few reasonable pictures from time to time, they have always contained an element of luck. You know the ort of thing, you just happen to have fitted the right lens, the light is favourable, and an obliging bird wanders within range before you get too engrossed in general birding.

What a boon digital cameras have proved to people like me! In the old days of film I would have high expectations of every shot, only to be bitterly disappointed when the results came back from Boots. Nowadays, I can get my disappointment over and done with as soon as I get home and download the pictures onto the laptop.

Just recently I have been intrigued to read about a technique called digi-binning, which seems to consist of taking pictures through a pair of binoculars by applying the camera lens to one of the binocular eye-pieces.

Apparently simple adaptors, not as complicated as those used for digi-scoping, are available to hold the camera and binoculars together, although I understand that it is possible to simply hold the two elements together by hand. I imagine that this latter method would be rather hit-or-miss. Still, (another benefit of digital photography), there is no cost involved, so provided the bird stays long enough, you can make a number of attempts at each shot.

If anyone reading this has tried digi-binning, either with or without an adaptor, please leave your comments at the end of this blog. I suppose the best way to find out is to get out there and try it. At least I may get a few more photographs, and I can continue to use my digital SLR for closer shots.

Does anyone want to buiy a digi-scope adaptor?

Survival Strategy at Bird Feeders

A neighbour has a neglected beech hedge about 3 metres high which retains most of its leaves throughout the winter, but some of the trees have been allowed to grow to 6 metres, and these shed their leaves in the Autumn. The hedge overlooks my feeding station, and most hungry visitors use this vantage point to check for potential danger before approaching the feeders.

Over the winter months it is easy to observe their strategy. While doves use surrounding rooftops to scan the area, and blackbirds and thrushes appear to fly straight over the hedge, the smaller birds, mostly tits and finches, alight on the tops of the tallest trees. From there they will, especially if alone, spend several minutes assessing the situation before dropping through the branches in stages, finally flying from the cover of the lower part of the hedge directly to the feeders.

At busy times there is a kind of cascade of birds through the trees, with new arrivals taking their turn in line in the treetops.Sometimes a single bird will wait for others to arrive before descending, and will often go away hungry rather than risk feeding alone.

In a mixed flock it is usually members of the most numerous species that are the first to feed. Could this be additional evidence for Darwin's contention that the most intense competition for resources is between members of the same species?

Later in the year the first birds down are usually juveniles, but is this because they are (like human teenagers) hungrier than adults, or that their lack of experience means they are less aware of the need for caution? (Again, like human teenagers!)

Paired birds seem to spend less time scanning than either groups or singletons. I do not know why this should be so, unless each bird considers the other more reliable than the regular run of companions.

It is noticeable that during the run-up to the nesting season two pairs of the same species will seldom be on the feeders at the same time, with one or more pairs waiting in the trees until the first pair have finished, or those waiting get impatient and attempt to drive the first pair off. The first pair will usually return to the treetops for a while to clean their beaks, and perhaps to take their turn as lookouts.

The only time that real strife occurs is when fledglings are brought to the feeders, when the parents will attack any stranger, especially a member of the same species, that comes too near.

Although I have referred specifically to to the strategies employed at feeders, this is simply because I have had ample time to observe them in these circumstances. There is every reason to suppose that they behave in much the same way when feeding naturally, except that goldfinches would not need to queue in a field of thistles.

Nest Boxes

The approach of the nesting season (in the UK) reminds me of the time when a friend aked me to advise him on making his garden more attractive to birds.He lives near Epping Forest on the outskirts of London, and his garden has lawns, flower beds, shrubs, a number of mature native trees, and is bordered on one side by a woodland pool. So what's the problem?

More than anything he wanted to match his neighbour's success in attracting occupants for his nest-boxes! He complained that his neighbour had at least one brood a year in each of his four boxes, while he, (my friend) had not had even one in any of his six boxes.

It was not that he hadn't tried. He had a number of feeders scattered about the garden which were very popular with the local birds, but they showed no interest in nesting there.

I came to the conclusion that potential nesters were put off by the proximity of the feeders and the avian traffic they generated. Most garden birds are secretive about their nest sites and will not choose a spot that is under regular observation. Indeed, many will not even visit an existing nest containing eggs or chicks if they are aware of an observer.

The remedy was simple. We moved all the feeders to a spot close to the house and out of the direct line of sight of the nest boxes, then we put a handful of dried grass in each box.The following Spring the first tenants moved in!

Seeing, Looking at, then Watching

Do you remember when you started bird-watching? Me neither.

I can remember quite clearly the first time I played golf (although I try hard to forget!), and when I took up fishing, hang-gliding and various other enthusiasms I went in for at different stages of my life. But birding? No. Just that it was a long time ago.

My theory is that it doesn't have a particular beginning, it just creeps up on you. You start by seeing birds, say in the garden, then you start actively looking at and for them, and this gradually evolves into watching. Finally, depending on your nature, you choose between the frantic obsession of the twitcher or the more sedate but equally obsessive life-long study of the birder.

In the early stages you may find yourself marvelling at the beauty of birds' appearance or song, or you may be astounded at the sheer spectacle of millions of starlings swirling above their winter roosting site. I supect, though, that most of us are infected with the bird-watching virus from a garden bird table. Even without instruction we quickly learn to distinguish between many of the common species, although we may not know their names. Being insatiably curious animals we are driven to find out their names, probably from a field guide, and identification is the first step to wider knowledge.

After the field guide comes a pair of binoculars, and this basic tool kit, with the addition of a note-book to record your sightings, is all that is needed to set you up for a life-time of bird-watching (you will, of course, convince yourself that you actually need a great deal more).

Our hobby is basically one of quiet enjoyment, taken at your own pace, with just occasional moments of high excitement when you discover a rarity, or witness unusual behaviour, so is it any wonder that the interest stays with us for life?

Or that we cannot quite remember when it all began?

Grampy John

Amazing Birds

Birds never cease to amaze me. Whenever I begin to think that I have seen everything, they come up with another surprise.





I recently visited Perth in Western Autralia, primarily to see my daughter Samantha and her family, but what birder can go anywhere without doing a little (or a lot of) birdwatching?





A favourite spot of mine was Herdsmans' Lake, only half a mile from Sam's house. It never failed to provide a good selection of wetland birds, including pelicans, great egrets, spoonbills and ibis, as well as numerous geese, ducks, coots etc.





It is also home to the Tiger Snake, a highly venomous species that is reckoned to be responsible for the majority of human snakebite fatalities in Australia.





On this occasion I was scanning the lake with my binoculars when I noticed a pair of Pacific Black Ducks swimming parallel to each other, and about 60 cms apart. They were followed by a pair of Coots, a similar distance from each other, and about 1.5 metres behind the ducks.





At this point there is an extensive reed-bed about 200 metres from the lake shore, and the birds were swimming from this directly towards me.





Naturally, I was intrigued by this strange convoy, so I continued to watch and noticed that from time to time, one or other of the birds would peck at something in the water between them. Eventually, they got close enough for me to see that they were deliberately shepherding a Tiger Snake away from the reed-bed, where they presumably were nesting.





When the got to within about 10 metres of the shore the formation broke up and the snake was encouraged with a few farewell pecks to swim the rest of the way by itself.





The whole episode seems to me to be an extraordinary example of inter-species co-operation in the face of a common enemy. In addition, it showed that the birds knew that the snake could not strike at them unless it was on a firm surface, and they could therefore peck at it with impunity.



Double click on the picture for a clearer view.


Aren't birds amazing?