When Caroline came knocking

Storm Caroline was the third officially named storm of the season after Aileen in September and Brian in October to hit the UK. We were hit by blizzard conditions with up to 20 cm snow. The Met Office issued an amber severe weather warning as wintry showers fell across the region at the start of the weekend. The amber alert was accompanied by a yellow warning of winds that brought loss of power and transport disruption.  Temperatures dropped and gale-force north-westerly winds brought snow and ice as the drop in pressure.  Although Coventry only got the tail end of the storm, we were still battered with gusts of 40 mph and heavy rain. Then it was time to dig out the snow shovels and woolly clothes as an Arctic freeze hit the Midlands. Temperatures plummeted thanks to an Arctic freeze blown over from Russia and Siberia, bringing sleet, downpours and snowfall. The wind chill factor felt like a raw minus 5C.

For the past few days, we’d been promised the white stuff. We’d wisps of snow drifts but that’s it. On Saturday night, it looked promising as the occasional flurries lengthened to a more persistent snowfall. All was quiet when snow fell and if it fell overnight what a magical sight awaited in the morning. And when I opened the bedroom curtains. this Narnia-esque scene greeted me. I was grinning from ear-to-ear and couldn’t wait to be outside. It looked magical blanketed in snow. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. Great feathers of flakes were still swirling, thick and fast blanketing the already snowed-up garden.

“And she has made a magic so that it is always winter in Narnia---always winter, but it never gets to Christmas. And she drives about on a sledge, drawn by a reindeer, with her wand in her hand and a crown on her head.”

I have lived in the UK for nearly 22 years now but I am still excited seeing snow. Those fluffy flakes falling down like goose-down feathers as if the angels were having a pillow fight and the feathers were flying down to earth . The time in winter I loved most, spellbound  and I wanted to drink it all. I can’t get enough of winter’s bewitching atmosphere. The falling snow muffled the sounds of everyday living. Virtually silent outside except for the crunch of my shoes compacting the snowy floor, and the occasional snow-clump dropping from the trees. Something about a fresh dumping of snow transported me to a different world together.

Babe and I started having snow-ball fights channelling our inner kids. We were pelting each other with hand-rolled balls of slush. Every opportunity to have a laugh was a bonus and we were taking advantage of it. I bet our neighbours thought we were a bit loco but I’m sure they would loved to join the fun. I wanted to make a snow angel but don’t fancy getting wet and soggy. I tried to build a snowman but it looked a bit dodgy so gave up. I was jealous of Ethan’s, my neighbours 15 year old 4 foot snowman. He got help from the snow that was trapped in their trampoline.

The cold theme lasted for a week, when milder and more unsettled weather from the Atlantic forced the current ridge of Arctic air towards Scandinavia. It was fine the first few days when the snow was still falling but then the pavements became a skating rink. I wore my snow-boots the whole week and it was a god-send.  During my lunch break. I am out and about enjoying the magical frosty landscape and taking in the wintry vistas across the frozen lakes. The grounds was transformed into a winter wonderland as the frost sat across the landscapes. The low winter sun shone and everything sparkled. Simply stunning.

The snowfall is so silent,
so slow,
bit by bit, with delicacy
it settles down on the earth
and covers over the fields.

The silent snow comes down
white and weightless;
snowfall makes no noise,
falls as forgetting falls,
flake after flake.

It covers the fields gently
while frost attacks them
with its sudden flashes of white;

covers everything with its pure
and silent covering;
not one thing on the ground
anywhere escapes it.

And wherever it falls it stays,
content and gay,
for snow does not slip off
as rain does,

but it stays and sinks in.
The flakes are skyflowers,
pale lilies from the clouds,
that wither on earth.

They come down blossoming
but then so quickly
they are gone;
they bloom only on the peak,
above the mountains,

and make the earth feel heavier
when they die inside.
Snow, delicate snow,
that falls with such lightness
on the head,

on the feelings,
come and cover over the sadness
that lies always in my reason.

~Miguel de Unamuno ‘The snowfall is so silent’~

I’d a few things pencilled in my diary to celebrate December. But due to the atrocious snowy conditions, ‘A Christmas carol : a folk opera’ at the Old Grammar School was postponed to a later date. Unfortunately the date wasn’t suitable for both HR and I that we got a refund. Thankfully, BBC Radio 4 Any Questions? at the Coventry Cathedral was still on. Those attending were requested to arrive early because there were security checks and a warm-up session. The audience was also given slips to write down any questions that they wanted the panel to answer.

There was at least 100 people present in the very cold Cathedral. Babe and I kept our coats on to keep warm as we took our seats at the back on very uncomfortable chairs. The warm-up began at 19.30 and the programme was broadcasted live on BBC Radio 4 at 20.02. Jonathan Dimbleby chaired the programme with the panel consisting of David Gauke, the Secretary of State for Works and Pensions who was currently overseeing the Universal Credit and Gina Miller  who came to prominence after taking the government to court about triggering Article 50 to start the Brexit process. Next was Angela Smith or Baroness Smith of Basildon, the Labour Leader of the House of Lords  and the 4th panellist was Alex Deane, a managing director at the public affairs firm FTI Consulting.

The questions touched on current issues covering political, economic, social and moral issues. Those whose questions were chosen had to introduce themselves and ask their question on air. The questions among them ranged from Brexit, the Universal Credit and Coventry City of Culture. The audience was very restrained and quiet and at times I wanted to shout out my opinions. One thing I noticed was that if they don’t agree with the answers from the panels, they don’t clap at all. Aaah…very passive aggressive. It ended at about 21.30. We didn’t linger and headed straight back to the car.  It was fascinating to watch how a radio programme was being broadcast live and we thoroughly enjoy it.

Before Storm Caroline came knocking, we were on the road to Slimbridge WWT. We left the casa at 10 am and the mercury was touching 3.5C. It was very gloomy and drizzling and when we were on the M5, it turned foggy. On the opposite road, there were long traffic queues towards Birmingham. Hopefully, it would be cleared when we were on our way home. When we drove over River Avon, we noticed the low-lying areas of farmland and caravan parks were flooded. It must had rained heavily upstream. At Slimbridge, the place was quite quiet. I think the wet, misty weather was putting people off.

We took the usual route and noticed that the Caribbean Flamingos had been barricaded in their heated house at the end of their enclosure. A cold weather had been forecasted and they were kept indoors for their safety. Whilst these birds had been inside, the aviculturists had taken the opportunity to re-sand the enclosures. When we walked past a huge fence that was shrouded with ivy, I noticed a very tiny bird flitting in and out. We watched it and it was a Goldcrest foraging for food. There must be others because we could hear the familiar high-pitched contact calls emanating deep from within the hedges.

Once known as the Golden-crested wren, the Goldcrest was not only Britain’s smallest bird, but the smallest in the Western Palearctic. They were exclusively insectivorous, with spiders forming an important part of their diet.They generally fed scurrying towards the tip of tree branches or from the undersides of leaves, typically hovering and rarely keeping still. The gold stripe on the crown of the male was more prominent during mating displays. He bowed his head and raised his coloured crest in a bid to attract a female mate during the breeding season. We were lucky to have seen the amazing display at Brandon Marsh.

As soon as we walked into Rushy Hide, a trio of Bewick’s Swan flew in to join their family members on the water. They must have finished feeding on the nearby fields before coming in to roost on the open water. They had a slow, steady flight with their legs dangling as they were about to land, dropping onto the water at steeper angles as if bracing themselves for a mighty crash. They were honking away as they were about to land, a warning sign to those in the water to give them space. They then sailed down and water skied to a halt that ended with a belly-flop.

They were greeted warmly by the family group members. It was noisy, with constant low babbling in the water and indulging in greeting displays, reminiscent of excited dogs. Pairs and families formed particularly coherent units during aggressive encounters involving displays such as bugling and neck-stretching. There were families with yearlings and cygnets, pairs and singles. They then flapped their wings with more musical yappings. After calming down, they began either preening or feeding by sticking their head underwater or upending while swimming for aquatic vegetation.

Each year these extraordinary birds battled their way over thousands of kilometres of desolate tundra, wooded wilderness and vast lakes and seas to escape the icy grip of the Arctic winter after spending the summer on the Russian tundra in order to feed and breed. These birds were magnificent visitors to our skies. Some had returned to Slimbridge for 28 years,  totalling over 140,000 miles over their lifetimes. But each year fewer and fewer were returning, and it was the same across Europe. It was likely that a number of factors were affecting their survival and breeding success. It was suspected that they were being affected by habitat and climate changes on their breeding grounds. Other known causes included the presence of wind turbines and power pylons in their flight path, lead poisoning and illegal hunting.

Bewick’s swans cared for their offspring for a relatively long time. Cygnets remained with their parents throughout their first winter, staying within calling distance as they were guided along their first migration. They arrived in the UK from mid-October, wintering here until the following March before migrating once again to their breeding grounds on the Russian tundra. The arrival of the Bewicks causes much debate because folklore suggested that it can predict whether we were set to face a cold winter. If they arrived early then it could meant a harsh winter – or even a white Christmas - but later touchdowns indicated a milder few months. This year’s first swan, named Trotsky, was a yearling which arrived on the 10th of November.

Just as migratory birds,

                            We move on,

                  From villages to towns,

                  From towns to cities,

                  From cities to foreign lands,

                  To return or not to return.

                  Migratory birds and animals,

                           With limited needs,

                           Like food, shelter, 

                  Warmth and young ones’ care;

                  Move on, to distant places.

                           Climatic changes,

                  Like extreme cold and chill,

                  Push them to warmer regions,

                 To be back to their region, original;

                 When, suitable climate prevails.

                

                               In adverse time,

                 To go back to Siberia, in warmer time. 

                         Some animals too migrate,

                                To other countries,

                        Crossing the rivers or hills,

                 Only to return home after the adverse time.

                 Don’t we move to different regions,

                 In search of better economic conditions,

                          Job, career and education?

                 Yet, some people, to lead a retired life, return.

~Anandavalli R Chandran ‘Just as migratory birds’~

Nearby, Common or Northern Pintails too were flying in and out showing off their long, pointed wings, slim bodies, long necks and white edged speculum. They were most graceful and acrobatic in flight and had the ability to achieve great speeds while flying. This earned them the nickname the ‘Greyhound of the Air’. These winter visitors joined the hundreds that were already on the ground. Their presence in large numbers had pushed the Teals, UK’s smallest duck, to congregate right at the end of the lake.

Drake pintails were stunning. They were sleek and slender, with long protruding tail feathers which gave them their common name. They appeared pale grey overall, but sported a lovely chocolate-coloured head with a white stripe extending up from breast to behind each eye. Under their tails, they were black and cream, and in flight a white, black and rufous bar was revealed on each wing. The females were mottled tan overall, but still appeared to be sleeker and more pointed than other female ducks. In flight, they showed a brown wing bar edged with white. Both had blue-grey bills. We enjoyed watching this pair busy nibbling each other. It must be a bonding session.

Greylags were also flying in, looking heavy in flight. From a distance, they appeared a uniform grey-brown but a closer view revealed more subtle tones of brown and grey. They’d barring on back, breast and neck. We watched them facing forward, ready for a smooth balance. Then they formed an extraordinary contortion as they battled the strong winds. With their neck twisted 180, they ended up flying with their head and body facing opposite directions. This manoeuvre was known as whiffling, a method of braking. Using such twists and turns, they spilled air out of their wings and slowed down rapidly and reduced height as they landed safely.

A Little Stint was reported to be feeding along the mud-banks but it was too far for a good photograph. Mallards and Tufted ducks were snoozing at the west bank of the lake. They, too, had been dislodged from their usual position by the Pintails. The colourful Shelducks were upending in the water foraging for invertebrates, small shellfish and aquatic snails. Pochards were having a siesta near the observatory. A Pied wagtail flew in with its undulating flight and was strutting along the shingles, stopping here and there to pick on insects. A Lapwing or Peewit, after its shrill call, was having a tussle with its lunch and won.

We headed to Martin Smith Hide and was chuffed when a pair of Common Crane flew in. Unfortunately, they didn’t land and flew off. Most probably because there was no family member on the tack piece.  A moving carpet of Wigeon was foraging and grazing on the grass, leaves, stems and roots. They gathered in densely packed flocks, covering the grassy wards with their bodies, and spilling forward like an incoming tide. Each duck had  the unusual combination of a small bill and an exceedingly strong jawbone, which enabled them to pull up the grass with great vigour and used the bill’s cutting edges at the same time. They were very vocal with the males constantly uttering an excited, almost surprised exclamatory whistle, while the females grunt approvingly.

Then we headed to the next hide stopping at the bank vole hole. We waited for a few minutes but no one was around. We left some mealworms near the hole and checked out Willow Hide. We don’t have to wait long when the star attraction turned up. Water-rail was supposed to be secretive and shy, often heard than seen with their loud squealing and snorting noises emerging from the dense reed-beds. But not this bird with its chestnut-brown and black upperparts, grey face and underparts and black-and white barred flacks, a long red bill and tiny cocked tail. It came strutting out probing with its bill on the seeds that had fallen from the bird-feeder. One of the birders mentioned that there were at least 3 out feeding in the next hide earlier this morning.

At Robbie Garnet Hide, a raptor was flushing the waders and wildfowl into the air from time to time. We think it was a Buzzard. It was breath-taking as the hunter and hunted twisted and turned in the air. Oblivious to what was happening above them was a pair of White Fronted Goose. The salt-and-pepper markings on the breast was why they were colloquially called ‘Specklebelly’ in North America. Their legs were orange with pink bills. They bred in Western Greenland, migrating during September and October via staging grounds in Iceland to winter here, before returning in April. Crossing the 2700m high Greenland ice cap was a remarkable feat of endurance for a large bird. They had shrill, cackle like calls. The geese grazed and foraged on a range of plant materials taking roots, tubers, shoots and leaves. This pair was much more interested in preening themselves.

Then we turned back and had a rest at Wader Shore, a netted aviary with a coastal estuary theme. The residents which comprised of Avocets, Redshanks, Black-winged Stilts and Ruff were out and about, enjoying the sunshine, which finally came out. We sat on the bench and watched this juvenile Avocet practising its foraging skills. It was so funny to watch because its bill didn’t even touch the water. In clear water, Avocets fed by sight by picking prey from the surface of water or mud. In poor visibility and when locating prey from within the sediments, they foraged by touch, sweeping their long, upcurved bill from side to side through water or loose sediment to locate hidden prey such as aquatic insects and their larvae, crustaceans and worms.

In deeper water, Avocets swam readily and buoyantly, up-ending like a duck to reach food below the surface. The juvenile was similar in appearance to the adult, but with brown colouration in the areas where the adult was black. The plumage on the upperparts was also mottled brown. An important characteristic of these birds was that the newly hatched chicks had to feed themselves because their parents never offer any feed to them. But this was a juvenile and I’m sure it had a lot of practice. We sat there listening to their vocalisations which included a fluted ‘kloo-it’ or ‘kleep’. It was so calm and peaceful to be among them before Caroline came huffing and puffing.