I found April in my arms

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

~Ogden Nash ‘Always Marry an April Girl~

As we welcomed April, there were no signs of any significant warming during the 4th month of the year. It looked as if the onset of spring warmth was a slow burner. A Polar maritime airflow had set in, threatening a plethora of April showers. When the sun was out, it felt like summer but immediately showers and an icy blast of winter with hail and sleet returned. In the mornings, I’m dressed like the Michelin man still in my thick winter coat. It was freezing at the bus stop. In the afternoon, I need a summer coat for my lunch-time walk. As soon as I finished work, the heavens opened with rain, sleet and sometimes snow again.  Maybe that was why T. S Elliot called April the ‘cruellest month’.

I was pottering in the garden when I heard the distressed cries from the crows. I looked up and saw a Mistle Thrush flying from tree to tree with agitated alarm calls sounding like a football rattle or a machine gun. Then I spotted it mobbing a raptor perched on a tree at the far end of the housing estate behind the casa. I rushed in to get my camera and when I looked out the window, the raptor had flown onto the elderflower tree at the top of the garden. Whoo…hoo. It was a Sparrowhawk.

Its wings were rounded with a long, narrow and square-ended tail.. Thankfully, it was perched with its back to our bird-feeder. When perched, it looked as though its head was hunched into the shoulders. The garden was eerily silent as the predator scanned the open ground at the back of the casa. I managed to rattle a few shots before it flew off. I was hyper-ventilating with delight.

The tree where the Sparrowhawk was perching on had a bird box and in it was a nesting Wren. At first I thought it was Blue tit because I’d photographed a pair flying in and out a month ago. I couldn’t believe it when Babe told me that a pair of wren was using the box. I’m keeping my fingers-crossed that they will be successful.

The Wren lived life at a fast, restless pace and sang while trembling as it put everything into its song, which lasted about 5 seconds and ended in a trill. The alarm call was a loud ‘teck. teck. teck’ holding its short, stubby tail erect. It was usually on my raised bed finding spiders and insects while hopping and dashing, probing in crevices with its long, thin bill. Its scientific name, Troglodytes, which meant cave dweller, was in reference to this behaviour.

Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
In snugness may compare.

No door the tenement requires,
And seldom needs a laboured roof;
Yet is it to the fiercest sun
Impervious, and storm-proof.

So warm, so beautiful withal,
In perfect fitness for its aim,
That to the Kind by special grace
Their instinct surely came.

~William Wordsworth ‘A Wren’s nest’~

We started the month with another trip to Slimbridge Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust. We were greeted by this Jackdaw carrying feathers to decorate the nest and impress the missus, perhaps. The smallest member of the crow family were colonial cavity nesters and their nests were usually constructed with sticks to form the outer section of the nest, and lined with wool or hair. It would be so cosy for the chicks.

We headed straight to the very empty Rushy hide. There were only Mute Swan, a few Greylags, Gulls and at least a dozen Shelducks. One of the Shelduck was being aggressive towards a Moorhen chasing it all over the place. But the highlight was when we left the hide, a pair of Great Cranes flew right above our head. What an amazing close encounter.

We continued to Martin Smith Hide and was pleased to see a Brimstone on the wing. We kept an eye on it and I was delighted to be able to photograph it feeding on on the flowering yellow primroses. Quite a challenge to photograph as their colours tend to blend in together. When it roosted among the foliage, the angular shape and the strong veining of their wings closely resembled leaves.

From the hide, the tack piece was very quiet except for a few hundreds Shelduck having siesta. We were delighted when a pair of Great Crane came flying in, low and slow, bulging as they arrived before dropping  ungracefully on  the edge of the patch of reeds. They threw their heads back , flapped their wings at each other, their curly tail covert feathers fluffed up, and stamped their feet as they reinforced their pairing bonds. 

They walked slowly in an elegant way with their slate-grey plumage , enhanced with black or bluish-black on primary and secondary flight feathers. These fairly long feathers fell on the drooping, curved tail, and ‘danced’ while they were moving. They were one of Europe’s largest birds with a wingspan of between 1.8-2.2 metres.

They trotted towards the hide and jumped across the fence. I held my breath when they came quite close to the hide and started foraging on the reed-beds. They were opportunistic feeders eating a range of items from small rodents, fish, amphibians and insects to grain, berries and plants.

We were amazed to see one of them started picking leaves and sticks. Were they building a nest? Last year, a pair did build a nest at the same place. Later they waded towards the middle of the pool and had a bath. Watching these huge birds splashing in the water was amazing. Then they spent hours preening.

We headed back towards the grounds where we spotted a few sooty-grey Coots nesting near the water’s edge under the shelter of the vegetation. We arrived just in time for the Otter talk and feeding session. The place was packed. Babe took his usual place, climbing the wall where he could photograph without any obstruction. As usual, the 3 North American river otters kept the crowd entertained. I was distracted by a pair of Moorhens ‘kung-fu fighting’ at the opposite pool.

Moorhens tended to be solitary and often feeding around the water’s edge. Though they appeared placid, fighting were common and often prolonged, with each bird striking the other violently with the striking yellow-green feet and even attempting to push or drag the opponent underwater. They were also pecking each others bills furiously, while flapping their wings for balance. It was uncomfortable viewing and was just like a scene from a martial arts film. Thankfully, none of them suffered any visible injuries.

We walked past the Greater Flamingo pink Lagoon. There were at least 260 making them the largest flock in the country.  They seemed to be marching around constantly.  Was this the courtship display? Their lush pink colour made them seemed to merge together as they moved around. There were plenty of wing flash too as they  opened their wings as part of their courtship display.

“She is pure ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and her appearance and demeanor are a nicely judged mix of the Red Queen and a flamingo.”

~Truman Capote~ 

There were also plenty of squabbling with their goose-like, honking ‘ka-haunk’. They liked each other company but they also preferred their personal space. Fights between displaying flamingos could get very violent. There were direct bill contact, feather spreading and posturing. They held each other’s mandibles, twisting their stretched necks. Thankfully, not a single feather was dislodged.

We headed straight to Kingfisher Hide walking past the glorious aroma of the wild garlic or ramson. They were beginning to flower and soon will disappear back into the ground to reappear again next spring. As we walked under the canopy of the trees with their newly-unfurled leaves, we were serenaded by a cacophony of birdsongs. The migratory birds had arrived. The monotonous and regular repetition of two notes ‘chiff-chaff’ was dominant.

Chiffchaff s were summer visitors to Britain, and were among the first migrant songbirds to arrive in the spring. We stalked this tiny olive-brown leaf warbler actively flitting through the overhead branches, with its distinctive tail-wagging movement. From time to time, it flew out to snap the insects in flight. After taking hundreds of shots, we made our way to the very packed Kingfisher hide.

We were very lucky to be standing behind someone who was just leaving and managed to get a seat. As soon as we sat down, a familiar high-pitched call greeted us and in front of us were a pair of Kingfisher flying in low over the water and settled on the shrubs. Their plumage was beautifully bright with the iridescent ‘electric’ blue back and tail with greenish-blue crown and wings. The brilliant blue of the back feathers were the result of light striking specially modified layers of feather cells.

Then the male hovered near the river bank and started tunnelling furiously using his long dagger-like bill. He was building a nest which was a horizontal tunnel with a nesting chamber at the end of it and usually a metre long. Both birds excavated the nest burrow and they chose a vertical bank clear of vegetation which provided a reasonable degree of protection from predators. After working hard, they flew off disappearing down the creek with their shrill calls trailing behind them.  Incredible!!!

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother’s name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.

Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.

Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;
I also love a quiet place
That’s green, away from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh with her bosom over me.

~William Henry Davies~

When they flew off, a pair of Little Egrets flew in from no where. I guess they must be feeding behind the reed-beds. Cetti’s warblers with their distinctive and explosive calls were skulking in the undergrowth. The first glimpse of these nondescript birds was when they were diving for cover. By the bird-feeder, a rat was entertaining the visitors. Then we slowly headed back to the car but stopped to watch a Greylag having a bath. We loved watching it flipped on its back and kicking its pink feet. It was having a whale of a time. What a wonderful show to end a lovely day.

Our next outing was a visit to Farmoor Reservoir which was situated 10 km west of Oxford. We’d wanted to visit this place for ages but there was always something in the way. It was only 99 km from Coventry and about an hour drive on the M40. The only problem was that it was on the route to Oxford and the traffic was horrendous but we persevered.

When we arrived, the sun was out and so were the midges. Although tiny and just two-winged, they were swarming everywhere and getting into everywhere. The Pied wagtails were having a wonderful time snapping them for lunch. As most reservoirs, there were people sailing, windsurfing, walking running and off course, fishing.

Farmoor was a man-made reservoir covering a total of 400 acres and split into two lakes. It was split by a long causeway, creating 2 reservoirs to fish in. Lake one (F1) was the ‘catch and release lake’ noted for its brown trout and rainbows. Lake two (F2) was the ‘take out ‘ lake and the Farmoor trout had a reputation as being among the tastiest in the country. A pity there was none for sale.

Since this was our first trip, we decided to walk starting left, the larger southern half of the reservoir complex known as F2. It was a 4 mile walk around the reservoir with views of the lake, woodland paths, Thames riverside meadows and nature reserves. We came across a huge colony of Great Crested Grebes, floating and treading water. It was the breeding season and they were all in their striking head and neck feathers that formed a ruff.

We heard one sending out its braying advertising call, a harsh howling ‘ker-ker-ker’, and looking around for an answer. It received a reply in kind, a cackling ‘kek-kek-ke-ke’, from not far away. They started floating towards each other and one broke cover and dived in. When it resurfaced, it was within the personal space of the other grebe and its intent was now clear. The grebe reared up out of the water almost to its belly, with its neck arched down, holding this posture known as the ghostly penguin display.

The other grebe than performed the cat display by half opening its wings and ruffling its feathers, extending the frills of its cheeks. They had established a partnership. They were ready to dance. We were very lucky to get a front row seat of one of nature’s great water ballets. We had watched this intimate courtship dance hundreds of time and was always awed by the performance.

The grebes faced each other, shaking their heads from side to side, mirroring each other. With utter elegance, they bob-preened by flicking their back feathers with their bill. There was more head shaking and fluffing out their head crest feathers, where the black crests and chestnut and black tippets came into display.  Then came the bird’s tango which led to the climax of the show, the weed dance.

They dived deep, emerging with pond weeds in their long pink bills. They rushed towards each other and met breast-to-breast, rearing high up the water, paddling wildly with their feet to keep their balance. They remained embraced for sometime, showing off their pond weeds with sideways shakes of the head. Eventually, they settled back into the water and headed to the shore for their finale. But they swam back to join the rest of the group. I guess they wanted to consummate their relationship away from prying eyes or powerful lenses

Necks a-stretch,  beaks
meet in heart-shaped song.

Their exultant dance
raises diamond drops
from the river.

~https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com~

We continued walking and came across fishermen dotted all along the wall. They were fly fishing where the angler whisked the fly in the air, back over the shoulder until the line was nearly straight, then forward using the forearm. There were lots of signs reminding people to be aware when the anglers were casting their lines. We also walked past a pontoon where a flight of Cormorants were drying themselves in the warm sun.

We saw a gaggle of Greylags in the water and when we got close, Babe noticed among them was a White-Fronted Goose. It was from Greenland because it had orange bills. The Siberian birds had pink bills and both species had orange legs. They don’t breed in the UK and only over-winter here. Soon, it will fly back to Greenland to breed.

A hybrid swam past us. And it had the most amazing mash-up of a White-Fronted Goose and a Snow goose. It was swimming with a Greylag. We always scanned any goose individually if we come across a gaggle of Greylags and Canada Geese  because often, a different species would tag along. Hybridisation was fascinating as the outcome do look intermediate between species. It often fuel species diversification and adaptation.

As we walked around the reservoir, I noticed the numbers of rain shelters and toilets present. Kudos to Thames Water for providing these facilities to their users. When we walked past Shrike Meadow, a large skein of geese flew overhead in the vey familiar v-formation. It was normal to see them in autumn and winter but not late spring? And they were white!!! Babe did some intensive research and found out that there was a large feral population of Snow Goose in Oxfordshire.

From our photos, Babe counted between 60-70 including blue morphs. There was a speculation that they escaped from Richard Branson’s wildfowl collection but there was no conclusive evidence of this. Spring often saw them do a tour of duty of the UK and they had been seen as far afield as Somerset and Lancashire. These birds were often seen in the nearby Blenheim Park.

As soon as we reached the causeway, the heavens opened. We were pelted with hailstones and then sleet. Brrr…But we continued scanning the reservoir. There were hundreds of Great Crested Grebes floating about in the water. Pied wagtails were dashing on the pavement trying to catch the insects that were stunned by the rain. And then, I spotted the piece de resistance, the Red-Necked Grebe.

We stood transfixed in the pouring rain and freezing cold holding our breath as it swam closer and closer. All you could hear were our cameras rattling away. We were smiling from ear to ear under our waterproof jackets. It was busy feeding, diving deep and always came out with a fish, taken in 30 second dives. It was an expert swimmer, using its feet for propulsion underwater, and steered by rotating its legs, since its tail was too short for this purpose.

In breeding plumage, it had a black cap that extended below the eye, very pale grey cheeks and throat, a rusty red neck, dark grey back and flanks, and white underparts. The eyes were brown and the long, pointed bill was black with a yellow base. It was a stunning bird.  It was closer in size to the Great Crested Grebe.

It was also known as Grey-cheeked Grebe and Holboellii Grebe. I wished I could hear the vocals which comprised of a variety of wailing, howling and roaring sounds but it was very silent. Hundreds of photographs later, we took shelter in the nearby hide still keeping an eye on the grebe. As we scanned the waters, Babe mentioned that seeing a Slavonian grebe would completed our quota of grebes found in the UK. And guess what? His wish was answered. Quite a distance away, in the choppy water was the said grebe flanked by Great Crested Grebes. A pity it didn’t come close and disappeared from our view.

Peak’s snow of the past year still in the sky, it’s hazy on one side in spring’s path

Mountain deep, pine door is unaware of spring: on it intermittently dripping snow’s winter beads

The water faded, and unfamiliar first grass: its glimpse suggest Spring in the field

Sea of grebes:a rowing’s boat full sail in the haze also make such a spring scape

~Princess Shisiki, died 1201~

As soon as the weather calmed down a bit, we went out to check the Red-Necked Grebe again. It didn’t disappoint us and was still diving and feeding. We were so pleased to have seen it on our first visit. Usually, it would take us a couple of visits to get used to the area and familiar with the nooks and alleys. This place will be added to one of our favourite places to visit again and again. Then we headed to the car and had something hot to warm our freezing cockles before heading home.

After such an exciting adventure we ended the week with a gentler familiar pursuit at Draycote Waters. Sightings of Wheatears had been reported and it would be lovely to touch base with them again. As usual, the place was buzzing both in and out of the water. The sailors were back on the water honing their skills. Pied wagtails were flying after each other with their undulating flights while uttering their high-pitched calls.

On the water, Great Crested grebes were fishing quite close to the wall. We scanned the meadows where the rabbits had dug up holes as this was where the Wheatears used to feed. Unfortunately, the area was used by amateur fishermen practising their fly fishing techniques. Grr!!! We continued on and saw a Canada Goose nesting at a very unsecure place, too close to the path. This pair had nested in the same place last year and I don’t know whether their chicks survived.

We headed straight to the Hide and noticed that the conservation area was cordoned off by yellow bobbing floaters This was to warn the fishermen that they weren’t allowed to be in that area. I hoped they adhere to it. From the hide, we saw hundreds of Great Crested Grebe in Toft Bay. This was a safe place for them to nest. We saw a few mating too. On the bird-feeder, there was an acrobatic squirrel and below it was a rat and a Dunnock taking advantage of the seeds that had dropped to the ground. Long tail tits were roaming the nearby bushes and when I went out, I spotted this Blue tit flying into an old wood-pecker hole. Then it flew out with an egg sac. There must be chicks in there.

After about an hour, we walked back to the visitor centre. On the meadow, I came across my first sighting of a Peacock butterfly resting on the grass. It was lovely watching the red wings with black markings and distinctive eyespots on the tips of fore and hind wings. The eyespots evolved to startle or confuse predators, making it one of the most easily recognised and best known species. Asleep for months and fuelled winter-long by last autumn’s berries, they looked scruffy when they emerged.

As we walked along the wall, we spotted this Mallard mum taking her large brood out to feed. The fluffy and adorable ducklings looked very disciplined as they swam in a straight line. But as soon as they reached the rocks, they were scrambling all over the place. Their poor harassed mum was doing a sterling job with her 10 or was it 11 babies. Do you think she kept on counting them? She was trying her best to make sure they stayed together. She was quacking all over them. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes…

While Babe continued walking along the wall, I decided to walk along the grassy meadows. By the woods, I came across about half a dozen yellow wagtails. Babe joined me and we sat on the grassy embankment and watched these small, graceful, yellow and green birds with medium-length tail and slender back legs. They seemed to be spending a lot of time walking or running nimbly on the ground chasing after insects with their tail wagging fervently.

They were summer visitors from the African continent and spent their summer in arable pastures, meadows, marshes, riversides and near freshwater which made Draycote Waters the ideal location. From where we were sitting, we could hear their ‘tsweep’ calls and their song was a simple repetition of this call.

Time travelled fast and 2 weeks of April whizzed quickly. The weather had been a mixture of cold, and often windy conditions but that didn’t stopped us venturing out. Northerly winds had continued to bring some wintery squalls. Frosty mornings had clearly not left entirely yet, but, a couple of proper spring interludes reminded me that all that warmer weather wasn’t too far away. Goodbye cold, silent landscapes; hello joyous, lyrical spring.

“April prepares her green traffic light and the world thinks Go.”

~Christopher Morley~