On Parting with Spring

I took Friday off for a long Spring bank holiday weekend and we made our annual trip to Bempton Cliffs. It was 13.4C on a nice, sunny morning when we left the casa at 9.25 am. The traffic slowed down as we were nearing the Leicester Forest East services. As usual,  drivers were slowing down to watch the emergency services at work on an accident at the opposite road. Why???

We drove through miles and miles of sunshine-y yellow as the rapeseed fields flanking both sides of the motorway were blooming. We were enveloped in a very sweet, sickly perfume. We spotted a few Kestrels hovering as we drove through the M1. Then a pit stop at Trowel Services to use the facilities. As soon as we crossed the M62 fly-over, the sat-nav took us a different route where we drove through the North Cave Wetlands. Another place to check out.

We arrived at Bempton Cliff at about 1 pm. We were guided to the overflow car-park which will be locked at 5 pm. We informed the traffic controller that we planned to stay longer than that and was allowed to park at the visitor centre. The place was buzzing. From the top of the hill, we saw that it was going to be a very busy day. After paying the entrance fee and using the facilities, we made our way to the cliffs. 

But first, we checked out the ubiquitous Tree sparrows with their newly fledged youngsters that were chirping happily on the hedges. We stood there listening to them gossiping with their hard and piercing ‘tek’ conversational calls. A few adults were spotted returning to the roof with flies between their beak  to where their chicks were under the eaves of the visitor centre’s roof. The supposedly wildflower meadow was still barren. Hmm…I should have brought my seeds along

We noticed that the Jackdaws hanging around the tables were waiting for something to fall to the ground. A few people were feeding them with pieces of bread and this handsome guy was gathering strings of cheese. I think there should be notice not to feed the birds and also for the table to be cleared ASAP. Imagine if this Jackdaw fed its chick with these cheese strings. They will definitely choked and die.

As soon as we step on the paved path, we were assaulted by the very familiar smells, sounds and sight of 250 thousands of sea-birds. Seabird colonies during the breeding season were full-blown, multi sensual impression of movement, noise and smell. My eyes took everything at once, birds swarming the sky around the colony like bees and clinging to cliffs everywhere. Bempton Cliff was packed to the rafters with tens of thousands of individuals, pairs that worked together to bring up their chicks, shuttling to and fro from foraging grounds, bringing fish and nesting materials, disputing with neighbouring breeding pairs and dealing vicious blows towards intruders into their miniscule breeding territory. I could spend hours just watching them. It was good to be back again.

As we walked towards our favourite cove, Skylarks were singing high up in the sky, the beautiful song radiating through the air as the bird itself hung suspended somewhere overhead. We squinted through the bright sunlight but it was just too high above us. By the cove, Kittiwakes were gathering nesting materials along the hill side. Neat silver-grey and white, they danced past on buoyant wings towards their nesting site. Guillemots were lining along the cliff ledges. And the highlight was went a pair of everyone’s favourite bird, the Puffins, came out of the crevices in the cliff face and sat on the ledge.

As we walked along the path, I was busy chasing this butterfly flirting from flower to flower. Glorious Red Campion were flowering profusely and they were the main source of food for the butterflies and the bees. In the Isle of Man, it was known as ‘blaa ny ferrishyn’ or ‘fairy flower’ and had a local taboo against picking it. The bright rose-red flowers opened during daylight to attract the butterflies and bees. They really brightened up the place.

Babe was delighted when his favourite bird, the doe-eyed Fulmars, were everywhere. Gull-like but stockier with thicker head and neck. they were gliding on stiffly held wings with occasional wing-beats. The whiteness of their bodies and relative thickness of their head earned them the nickname ‘flying milk bottle’.

Despite their superficial gull-like appearances, they weren’t part of the gull family. They belonged to the same family as petrels and shearwaters and were closely allied to the albatross, often referred to as ‘tubenoses’. The bill and tubenose were a notable characteristic which helped distinguished from the other birds breeding here. They were the last birds to breed and pairs often cackled to each other like drunken witches.

‘Our most elegant companions were the fulmars, the premier acrobats of the waters, who glided in endless loops and circles around us for hours after hour riding close to the waves on stiff wings, their fat fluffy bodies like huge moths.”

~Tim Severin ‘The Brendan Voyage~

At the New Roll-up viewpoint, we watched the juvenile Gannets in varying states of plumage with their mix of dark and light markings on the wings flying past in groups. It would take 3 or more years to get the adult plumage. They started breeding at an age of about 5 years or older. In the mean time, these young pre-breeding birds spent the summer investigating breeding colonies, the one in which they were born, a behaviour known as prospecting and also meeting potential breeding mates on the way.

Below us, the Yorkshire Belle, a cruise ship that operated from Bridlington Harbour was slowly making its way towards the 400 feet chalk hills. I would love to get on this boat to see this sea bird city from a different angle. It would be amazing to see these graceful Gannets as they soar overhead with their 6-foot span wingspan or when they plunged into the water to feed. But unfortunately, you have to book in advance which we can’t do because we lived so far away.

Suddenly, there was a ripple of agitation among the cliff residents. A bird-of-prey was trying its luck and it was a Kestrel. Then it disappeared among the foliage before reappearing again. Because we were on a cliff, we watched it soaring and gliding at eye-level with its wings held wide and its tail spread out like a fan. It hovered effortlessly in the air with its head down scanning the ground. Hovering gave the Kestrel its country name of windhover. After a few minutes of hovering, it flew off to the other side of the reserve causing a ripple of flustered feathers into the air.

A pair of Linnet flew in with their undulating flight and twittering happily as they landed on a bare patch of ground near the viewstand. The male had an attractively marked crimson forehead and breast while the female was much browner. I am so please to see them thriving here as they were in the Red listed species due to changes in farming practice.

We walked further down to Staple Newk, the southernmost viewing platform, for a grandstand view down to Scale Nab, an outcrop of a huge colony of nesting Gannets. Their numbers had increased from just 30 breeding pairs in the late 1960s to over 7,500 pairs in 2009. Bempton had long been famous as being the only mainland nesting colony of these impressive and majestic birds. They arrived here from January and will leave in August/September.

From the viewing point, we watched them going about their daily business, sky-pointing, neck twisting, chest-expanding, to having a few disputes with the neighbours. With spear-like bills and spiky tails, they looked ‘pointed at both ends’. These huge birds looked ungainly as they bunched together on their nests protecting their fluffy chicks from the beaks of their close nesting neighbours. Around the outcrop, slowly weaving lines of large, brilliant white planks of Gannets glided low over the sea as they returned back to base.

Then it was time to slowly ambled back along the cliff path. The view was stunning from here as the rugged limestone cliffs rose 400 feet from the North Sea with unrivalled views of the beautiful Yorkshire coastline with Flamborough Head, Filey Brigg and Scarborough all jostling for attention within a breath-taking panorama. The walk back was punctuated with the songs and calls of Skylarks and Meadow pipits battling with the winds and performing display flights and Tree swallows and Pied wagtails zipping around. Linnets were busy feeding in the ploughed fields.

A few Gannets appeared gracefully as they glided past by with outstretched wings occasionally maneuvering with their tails and exhibiting precision timing flapping as they approached the cliff to land. Through the thick cliff top summer flowers and grasses, I saw them collecting beakfuls of vegetation to take back to their nests to keep things looking ship-shape for Mrs Gannet. We’d been here sooo many times but we really appreciated these stunning birds with their snow white plumage, black wing tops, creamy yellow heads, steel grey beaks with dark outlines and blue orbital eye rings.

By the time we reached the path, I was exhausted and wanted to get back to the car and rest. But Babe wanted to check the Grandstand viewpoint first and I’m glad we did. Here, the birds and noise and the unmistakeable salty, oily, fishy perfume of a seabird colony was very prominent. Rock dove-like feral pigeons were sunbathing on the grassy cliff slopes.

We were deafened by the Kittiwakes with their eerie onomatopoeic serenades ‘kitti-wake’ or ‘kala-week’ making the colonies very noisy places indeed. They bred in colonies on narrow ledges of the vertiginous cliffs. I was chuffed to see this pair with an egg in a nest made up of seaweed, moss and other plant material and held together with either mud or clay, making it a very sturdy nest. They normally laid 2 eggs with both birds taking turns to sit on the nest.

The usual incubation was around 20 days, and the young birds remained in the nest until they can fly. During this time, they were fed by both parents and took another month before the young were ready to leave the nest. When all the young birds were ready to fly, the whole colony will leave en masse creating a ‘snowstorm’, leaving these chalk cliffs very bare and incredibly quiet. They were back out at sea and will come back to these cliffs only to breed.

Suddenly, everyone on the viewpoint were getting excited when everyone’s favourite bird, the Puffin, flew in and rested on a rocky ledge quite close to where we were standing. The curious appearance of these birds, with their large colourful bills, striking piebald plumage and sad eyes, had given rise to nicknames such as ‘clown of the ocean’ and ‘sea rooster’. With their bright orange splayed feet, colourful bills and comical walk, it was hard not to be cheered by the sights of these birds.

Bempton don’t have any rabbits so their more usual nest site of unused rabbit burrows weren’t available. Instead they laid a single egg in a crevice in the cliff rock face. Their dumpy little bodies and tiny wings weren’t designed for easy flight and it was awful watching them plummeting from the cliff edge before their tiny wings started beating furiously and then whizzing past.

Standing upright on the rocky ledges and doing their chalk cliff inspection in action were the dark brown Guillemots. They stood upright and lined every ledge and cranny and crammed together shoulder to shoulder on the narrow rock ledges. They were usually silent but growled a loud whirring sound when on the nests, with their white underparts showing and paddle-like feet sticking out in front.

Razorbills were identified by their very dark brown to black upper parts and white breast, blunt-ended bill crossed with a white stripe and a bright yellow gape. In the breeding season, they had a more prominent line extending from the base of the bill to the eye. It was thought that they earned their name from their bill which resembled an old fashioned cut throat razor. The edges of their hooked upper beaks were very sharp, enabling them to grasp fish and defend themselves against predators.

It was slow walk back to the car. It was a very warm, breezy sunny day and I was overheating. We treated ourselves to the famous Yorkshire Dales farmhouse ice-cream to cool down. Then back to the car for a simple picnic of onion and cheese pasties with crisps and washed down with hot coffee from a thermos. As we enjoyed our lunch, a Whitethroat was skulking in the bushes in front of the car. What a lovely end to a lovely day.

Since it was the Spring bank holiday, we made a trip to Slimbridge Wildfowl and Wetland Trust to see how the natives were enjoying the day. Spring bank holiday was a ‘secular replacement’ for the original late-May holiday known as Whit Monday. As ‘secular nameless’ holiday, it was used as a time to relax with family and a day off work on Friday created a four-day weekend which I did.  So on a lovely sunny day with the mercury at 17.8C we made our way through the M5 road-works. Thankfully, the sighting of this Swallow made up for the hours stuck in traffic.

As it was a bank holiday, we knew the car-park was going to be full and so parked at the furthest end, near the exit. After using the facilities, we stopped at the gangway where the entrance ground was carpeted with daisies and buttercups swaying in the breeze. In the Victorian age, daisies meant innocence, purity and loyal love. And I was chuffed to see a Common White feeding on it.

Then straight to Rushy Hide where Sedge was still incubating her eggs. She’d had 2 eggs now and the incubation period was around 30 days. According to the website, it wasn’t long now before the eggs hatched. I am keeping my eye on their Twitter feed.  From time to time, the Black headed gulls swooped down quite close to her head. Monty was at the end of the lake, asleep with his head under the wing.

“Couple of thin wings

running long under feathers

crane stretching wings wide”

~Crimsondew~

The Avocets were still incubating their eggs in the shallow scrape on the shingle island or the in the nearby sparse vegetation. It will take 25 days for the eggs to hatch. Both parents took turns to incubate the eggs and they were showing aggressiveness towards all intruders. They were chasing after the Gulls who were always flying very close to the nesting sites. Aggressive defensive behaviour had earned them the name ‘Avocet:Exocet’ from the bird watchers.

A highly territorial bird, they chased away any unwelcome visitors when breeding, lunging towards them with a lowered head and neck. They attacked or cry at the intruders and often issued a series of high pitched sounds resulting in a Doppler effect. This helped them to scare away the intruders because the sound effect made their approach much faster. Their crying was a far carrying kluit kluit. After chasing the intruders away, they flew back to the site, gliding with wings in a V, legs dangling and jinking its body from side to side as it lands, known as the ‘butterfly’ flight.

We were fascinated to see a pair mating ritual. The female was laying low on the water. Just before the mount, the male showed frenzied splashing, They intertwined their necks and ran forward immediately after copulation.They also performed ritualized displays where they faced each other in a circle and stretched bills towards each other.

Nearby, a pair of Black Headed gulls too were busy mating. The dark brown plumage of the head only developed during the breeding season. For the rest of the year, the head was white with a dark smudge behind each eye. The clutch usually contained 2-3 brown speckled eggs which were incubated for up to 26 days, and the parents also shared duties. They were noisy species during the breeding season, producing loud kwarr calls and short kwup.

In the water were families of Shelduck with varying ages of ducklings. The adorable ducklings were white, with black caps, hindnecks and wings and back patches. Soon they will turn into juveniles with similarly coloured, greyish above and mostly white below, but with the adult wing pattern. When the Avocets were chasing after the gulls, the youngsters dived underwater to avoid any predators while the parents flew away from them to act as decoy.

We checked the very empty Martin Smith Hide. The tack piece was very quiet  except for a few Teals and Shovelers on the scrape while Greylags and Shelducks were having a siesta in the field. From the reed-bed, a Mute Swan swam past in front of the hide with 3 of the most gorgeous, fluffy goslings following closely behind her in a straight line. This family will live together for 6-9 months before they were shooed off.

Then a pit stop at Willow Hide with only a Greenfinch monopolising the bird-feeder. This was a male with its mostly olive-green plumage except for the yellow edges to the outer primary wing feathers, and a more yellow rump. Since the feeder contained a seed mix, it threw all the other seeds on to the floor to get to the black sunflower seeds. Then it flew of with its bounding flight, leaving a flash of yellow and green as it flew off and a repetitive ‘chichichichit’ call.

We checked the opposite hide, the Robbie Garnett hide, and it was wonderful to see a pair of Barnacle Geese swimming in the small pool outside the hide. They were a medium-sized goose with black head, neck and breast with creamy white face, which contrasted with the white belly, blue-grey barred back and back tail. After enjoying the swim, they flew off  with a noisy chorus of barking and yapping sounds to join their flock feeding on the grassy field at the far end of the tack piece.

The flock must be having a rest as they were passing through on migration towards their breeding sites on the Arctic islands of the North Atlantic. The sudden appearance of these adult geese, with no prior sign of nesting or goslings, gave rise to folklore to the story that Barnacle geese either grew on trees or developed from the barnacles found on driftwood. In County Kerry, until relatively recently, Catholics ate this bird on a Friday because it was counted as fish!!!

Then we walked back into the grounds and made a pit stop at the Flamingo Lagoon. I had missed the Greater Flamingo courtship and now there were sitting on nests made of mounds of mud that had been hardened in the sun. It had a concave centre for a single egg. If I’m not mistaken, these precious eggs were then taken by the wardens to be incubated in an incubator. The eggs were substituted by a wooden ‘dummy’ eggs. Once the eggs had hatched, the chicks were put back into the nest.

From here, we walked to the ‘Geese of the World’ corner to say hello to our favourite Mandarin ducks. The stunning male had the most elaborate and ornate plumage with distinctive long orange feathers on the side face, orange ‘sails’ on the back, and pale orange flanks. The female was dull by comparison with a grey head and white stripe behind the eye, brown back and mottled flanks. Mandarin favoured small wooded ponds and were often seen perching on the low branches and stumps.

We nipped over to the newly-renovated Hogarth Hide where more Avocets were mating and feeding. They fed by wading in the shallow water at the edge of the lagoon. In clear water, they fed by picking prey from the surface. In poor visibility. they foraged by touch, sweeping the long up-curved bill from side to side through water or loose sediment to locate hidden prey.

A family of Canada Geese with 5 adorable ball of fluff appeared and dashed onto the mud-banks to feed. The father walked in front and the goslings trotted in a straight line behind with mum bringing up the rear.  They began pecking at small objects, tasting them to see if they were good to eat. Newly hatched goslings had a coat of yellow to olive down and within a week, they will to be rather awkward-looking, fuzzy grey birds.

Our final stop was Wader shore where we were surprised to see Avocet chicks. Whoop…whoop. They were so adorable and fragile but very independent. They could run about and fed themselves within a few hours of hatching. They were never fed by their parents.These chicks must be less than 10 days old because their bills were still straight and they were feeding by pecking at the surface.

In the wild, chick survival was very poor, and was determined by weather and food supply. The average lifespan of those that reached adulthood was thought to be 7 years old. They normally bred for the first time when they were 2 years old, often at a different location from where they themselves were bred. Hmm… I wonder if these were able to leave this protected and safe enclosure.

Apart from these very adorable chicks, a few male Ruffs were displaying in their stunning breeding plumage that included brightly coloured head tufts, bare orange facial skin, extensive black on the breast, and the large collar of ornamental feathers that inspired its name. In the wild, the males gathered together each breeding season in great mass displays of their spectacular neck feathers and physical prowess, These gatherings were called leks, and the females enjoy looking around them, responding to the best looking males by crouching to solicit copulation.

Each male was staking out a small territory each. They performed an elaborate display that included wing fluttering, jumping, standing upright, crouching with ruff erect, or lunging at rivals. They were typically silent even when displaying, although a soft gue-gue-gue could be heard. So far, none of the females which looked a bit drab with their grey-brown upperparts and mainly white underparts seemed interested.

Then it was time to head back to the car. We checked the Swallows nest under the visitor centre’s roof but nobody was home. We’d to stop our tracks to let this large family of Shelducks with 1,2,3,4…..10 or was it 12 adorable ducklings crossing the road. In their natural environment, Shelducks often desert their ducklings at a young age, leaving them in creches with just one or two adults to look after them.

We’d a sandwich each, in the car and washed down with mugs of steaming hot coffee from the thermos. We heard a very familiar ‘mew’ call and looked up to see a Buzzard soaring high in the sky. It circled closer and closer that the wedge-shaped tails and long broad wings were visible. This allowed it to use thermal columns to gain height with minimal effort. Their primary wing feathers also gave the appearance of long fingers. What a lovely sight to end another lovely day out.

On the home front, there was so much happening in the garden at the moment. It was hard to keep up with it all. Branches which were stark just a few weeks ago were dotted with the tender spring flush of green and rosy buds abound. I saw my first flock of swift of the year, fluttering in circles above our casa with those characteristic sharp, stiff wing beats. They were staying high but very noisy, their screams carrying easily to the ground below.

“Every year, back come Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.”

~Dorothy Parker~

The Starlings were bringing their fledglings to the feeder, feeding them and also showing them how to feed. They were making a real old racket following their parents everywhere and the whole flock was behaving like a marauding group of locusts eating everything in their path. They were always squabbling incessantly.  Usually, I only topped up all the feeders once a week but lately, the fat-ball feeders needed topping every 2 days!!! But we love them and they brought us joy with their antics.

Compared to the starlings, the House Sparrow fledglings were very zen. The baby birds fledged when only 14 days old and were on the ground for a day or two when first leaving the nest. They were unable to feed themselves for about a week after leaving the nest and were cared by their parents for about a fortnight. Juveniles had pink bills and the obvious nesting gape which was the swollen wooden base which became harder and less  as they matures.swollen. This adorable fledging was waiting patiently to be fed.

Talking about being fed, I was so chuffed when I won a photographic competition organised by Warwick Retail. They asked their followers to tweet a photograph with the hashtags #fridayfeeling #fusionhappyface. The price was a meal for 2 at Fusion Bar, my favourite restaurant in the university. I selected this photograph which was taken by Babe of a smiling frog at Ashlawn Cutting last May. I’m looking forward to take Babe out for dinner.

“May and June. Soft syllables, gentle names for the two best months in the garden year: cool, misty mornings gently burned away with warming spring sun, followed by a breezy afternoons and chilly nights. The discussion of philosophy is over; it’s time for work to begin.”

~Peter Loewer~