Christine's walking & birds blog

An evening walk that was probably a bit too early failed to produce the previous night's goodies; but the site (and particularly the Phragmite reeds) looked nice in the sun.

As I took the photo, a Cetti's warbler sang out from the corner of East Marsh and I heard a distant echo from the boardwalk reeds. Three snipe were my first for the year.

I very nearly got a quartet of reed-bed specials this evening. To begin with, a dark blob high in the reeds turned out to be a preening water rail.

Hearing a Cetti's warbler explode into song close by, I took a couple of steps towards the sound. Instead of the warbler, there at the base of the reeds was a lovely male bearded tit; a second bird looked like a female. The bearded tits were not my "find", but as I didn't know they were still around it was a nice surprise to see them.

Now that's the sort of outing (despite the lousy pics) that sends a birder home happy to her tea!

Greger was determined to get out and walk today after his illness, so we drove to Bury Down and ambled round Hodcott Down, West Ilsley and Cow Down.

A small patch of snowdrops was coming out by the seat, the memorial of someone (I forget his name) who trained two Derby winners on these downs. They've made two nice scoops in the seat for your behinds, but unfortunately these were full of water so we couldn't sit down for a rest.

Getting back up to the Ridgeway from West Ilsley was the hardest part of the walk; the bridleway seemed to go on forever. Mind you, it's always quite a pull, even when we're fit.

A bird in the distant scrub had a harrier-like posture, I thought; but then it turned its back and I could see that it was a sparrowhawk, perching conveniently close to some blossoming gorse.

The walk was just under 8 kilometres. The weather was brilliant and we saw yellowhammers, skylarks and corn buntings (the last two singing). It was the kind of day when you can't help your thoughts turning to the first wheatears, even though you know it's far too early.

Three buzzards were sailing and mewing above the estate this morning. They drifted over our garden, and there was some mid-air interaction.

Sunday

More "wildness and wet"

These are the mighty falls of Wishmoor, where the stream pours across the path from one boggy flood to another. It doesn't look much, but it was quite difficult to cross. I managed by holding onto one of the green balustrades and stepping on small branches and/or roots that gave a foothold.

Back in the shelter of the trees I found a large flock very high up, consisting of long-tailed tits, coal tits, and goldcrests. I thought I heard a firecrest sing from further in, but by this time my neck was breaking from looking up so I called it a day.

In the Go Ape area near the car park there were more goldcrests and half a dozen siskins. I didn't have the energy for my usual loop round Caesar's Camp; but despite this and the lack of birds, it was refreshing to visit a different habitat from the broadleaved woodlands and the river between which I have been zinging like a pinball for the past few weeks.

A 50-strong flock of redpolls was feeding high in a wind-swayed birch. A goldcrest sang from the top of a holly tree, and two song thrushes were also singing.

I wandered down McAuliffe Drive with its odd, stunted oaks. The boles look swollen and lumpy, the trunks slender and drunkenly twisted, and somehow thwarted in their growth. If it's pollarding, it seems to be of a different kind to that elsewhere in the Beeches, just above ground level and resulting in this rather airy, dwarf woodland. I think this is where the rhododendrons used to be, so they might be to blame for the slaloming of the tree trunks (a silver birch in the background also exhibiting this feature).

Not so many years ago, you could see yellowhammers along these hedgerows in winter. Let's hope they come back.

(There was quite a lot of chaffinch song today, but the first of the year for us was on Thursday, in the grounds of St Mark's Hospital, Maidenhead, where Greger went for an X-ray.)

Dorney

A late-afternoon walk on the wetlands provided a welcome leg-stretch and some interesting wildlife sightings. The shelduck was my first of the year.

"What would the world be, once bereft

Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,

O let them be left, wildness and wet;

Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet."

- Gerard Manley Hopkins 1844-1889

(Well, there's always our garden.)

I caught sight of the mink in the Jubilee River and thought at first that it was a waterlogged duck, trying to surface - thus missing the chance to photograph it swimming towards me. I kept my eyes on the clump of reeds and rushes it disappeared into and was surprised when it warily poked its head out just feet away from me. It kept sniffing the air but clearly could not see me, while the noise from the weir and the motorway probably drowned out the clicking of the shutter.

The animal is not strictly wildlife as it's an escaped (or "sprung") American mink, but if the species maintains a sustainable population no doubt it will earn a place among British fauna just like birds such as the Canada goose and the doomed ruddy duck. Later: However, it's more likely to be eradicated as an invasive pest. I feel a bit sorry for it. People talk of it having an enormous appetite - well, not for more than it needs, surely?    

On the way back, I hung around by the small footbridge to see if the Cetti's warbler was still present; in fact, I think there were two. Scanning the reeds, I got onto this bittern. The black cap was conspicuous even at distance and in spite of the rapidly fading light. I certainly have better pics of a bittern on my blog but this record shot shows how high up the reeds the bird was perching.

As I left, a second bittern flew across from the south bank and landed rather awkwardly nearby (also high in the reeds), so this area must be what's called "The Lagoon" - although it's really a bay, so I'm not sure. Anyway, a great walk.