I took Friday off for a long Spring bank holiday weekend and had our annual trip to Bempton Cliffs. It was 13C on a nice cool morning when we left the casa at 9.45 am. This was also our first pilgrimage to the sea-bird city. It was very hazy on the M69 and quite an uncomfortable trip as we drove through the agricultural fields flanking the motorways. The air was thick with eau de manure as the farmers fertilised their fields. We stopped at Woodhall for a comfort break and after that, the view changed to miles and miles of sunshine-y yellow as the rapeseed fields flanking the M18 were blooming. We were now enveloped in a very sweet, sickly perfume. What a contrast.
We arrived at Bempton Cliff at about 1 pm and was not surprised to see the place heaving, even though it was a working day. From the top of the hill, we could see the overflow car-park full. Ooh…. But then, you don’t have to be a bird-watcher, twitcher or photographer to be impressed by the sight of 250k seabirds gathering to nest and breed here. From April to October, the RSPB hosted this annual spectacle of thousands of noisy Gannets, Razorbills, Guillemots, Kittiwakes, Fulmars and Puffins.There was a warden directing the traffic and we managed to get a spot right by the visitor centre. Thank god!!! After freshening up, we made our way towards the action.
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. They were out and about enjoying the sunshine. We saw one with a feather in its beak, to impress the Mrs perhaps. They were now thinking of a second brood as they started breeding in early April. Typically, there were around 3 broods and unlike most birds, they paired up in autumn rather in spring.
I am so glad that they were thriving here because the UK Tree Sparrow population had suffered a severe decline and listed as ‘red status’ in the RSPB’s conservation rating. They were shyer than House sparrows and were rarely associated with people but not these flock. They were so used to the millions of visitors passing through the visitor centre as they nested under the red pantiles on the roof. Smaller than House sparrows, they’d two narrow white bars across their wing feathers and were often described as having a permanently cocked tail.
As soon as we step on the paved path, we were surprised not be assaulted by the very familiar smells, sounds and sight 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, and saw that there weren’t that many birds swarming the sky. Bempton Cliff was usually 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. Then I realised that we were here very early into the breeding season.
As we walked towards the Grandstand, I was so glad to hear the familiar eerie onomatopoeic serenades ‘kitti-wake’ or ‘kala-week’ from the Kittiwakes, 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 having a discussion, while its neighbour was 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. Neat silver-grey and white, a few danced past on buoyant wings towards their nesting site and the cliffs resounded to their name constantly being called, as returning birds greeted their mates
It was only during courtship and nesting time that the birds ‘kittiwake’. For the rest of the year they were mostly silently except for an occasional ‘kit’. True gulls of the open sea, they spent half the year out in the middle of North Sea and North Atlantic, only returning inland to breed. They will leave the summer breeding grounds earlier if they failed to breed and headed 1,800 miles to over-winter in Canada. They were the gentlest in appearance of all gulls, and it may be this, combined with their plaintive calling that lies behind a belief that the souls of dead children go into Kittiwakes. 10% of the UK population lived here on the cliffs at Bempton.
Nearby, a pair of Razorbills tucked themselves away in crevices and cracks. They had broader, blunter bills, picked out by a smart coachline along the top and tip. The edges of their hooked upper beaks were very sharp, enabling them to grasp fish and defend themselves against predators. It was thought that they earned their name from their bill which resembled an old fashioned cut throat razor. They ,too, only came to shore to breed and then wintered back in the northern Atlantic. They weren’t particularly vocal but deep creaking ‘urr’ were produced by breeding individuals. They were quite quarrelsome too.
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 sad to know that the future of this species were linked to the health of the marine environment. Fishing nets, pollution and declining fish stock all threatened these Razorbills. They were among the rarest auks in the world and how lucky that we could still see them here. In combination, 20% of the world population bred around the British and Irish coasts.
It was a shame that most of these birds were being ignored by the visitors. It seemed that all they wanted to see were the Puffins and the reserve cashed on this by giving them a top billing. Bempton Cliffs 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. 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. They were quite easy to spot as they weren’t overshadowed by the bigger sea-birds that yet had to arrive and populate the cliffs.
These plucky seabirds spent 8 months out at sea before flying in each spring to breed. 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. And when they touched down, they were in the mood for socialising.They’d been away for so long that they were keen for a good chinwag to catch up on any gossips. It was a joy to watch them as they busily meet and greet each other. They have a very endearing courtship display in which the pair rub their beaks together excitedly known as ‘billing’. The couple below seemed to have a hard day
As we were walking towards Jubilee Corner, Babe was delighted to see his favourite bird, the doe-eyed Fulmars, flying about at eye-level. 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. They were also likened to a mini albatross because they seemed to enjoy flying in stronger winds. Their long narrow wings enabled them to fly great distances and were one of the best birds at gliding on air currents, a mighty feat considering they carried 20% of their body weight in food.
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.
We also 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. Bempton Cliffs was home to the only mainland breeding colony of Gannets in England. They arrived here from January and left in August/September. They were either constantly flying in formation just like the Dawn Patrol or criss-crossing the sky.
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’. Gannets were silent except during breeding, when the head and neck were brushed in a delicate yellow. From time to time, their rough throaty hard cacklings could be heard. They paired for life and occupy the same nest each year. We enjoyed watching their bonding displays like bowing, sky-pointing and mutual ‘fencing’ of the bills. The males built the nests out of seaweed, feathers, grass, earth and sometimes strings and nets, all kept together with their droppings.
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. They came to land only to nest, spending the rest of their life at sea, where they were vulnerable to oil spill.
It would be lovely to see their courtship which took place in water where one will be swimming around the other which spins to face it. They also had communal displays where several pairs were circling and bobbing or standing and flapping wings. The animation, the continual whirring flights of parent birds, the yarra-yarra-yarra racket, snaking necks and long bills created a mesmeric atmosphere. They fell out with each other and with neighbours. Guillemots only started to breed at about 7 years old. After the breeding season, they migrated in August with their young chicks to the eastern or southern part of the North sea. Together with the Razorbills, they were among the first birds to fledge from the cliffs, and were gone before the Puffins left their cliff top burrows.
Then it was time to slowly ambled back along the cliff path. The views were 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. We came across a group looking excitedly through their binoculars and scopes. I asked what they were looking at and it was a Ring Ouzel. Unfortunately, it was quite far and we managed only a record shot.
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. We saw our first sighting of a Grey seal fishing. We had seen seals before but this was the first time at Bempton Cliffs. The North Sea was rich in biodversity for sealife and birdlife and attracted a variety of cetacea to feed on. There were reported sightings of Bottlenose dolphins, Harbour porpoises and even a Minkle Whale breaking the surface. I must remember that the show-stopping seabird melodramas on the majestic limestone cliffs were not the only things to look out for.
We planned to check out the other view-points at the New Roll-up and Staple Newk later but decided not to. It was a very warm, breezy sunny day and I was beginning to overheat. We treated ourselves to a very expensive ice-cream each 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. Before leaving, I checked out the bird-feeding station and spotted a Brambling. Unfortunately, it was too dark for a photograph. What a lovely end to a lovely day.
Sauntering hither on listless wings,
Careless vagabond of the sea,
Little thou heedest the surf that sings,
The bar that thunders, the shale that rings,-
Give me to keep thy company.
Little thou has, old friend, that’s new
Storms and wrecks are old things to thee;
Sick am I of these changes, too;
Little to care for, little to rue,-
I on the short , and thou on the sea.
All of thy wanderings, far and near,
Bring thee at last to shore and me;
All of my journeyings end them here,
This our tether must be our cheer,-
I on the shore, and thou on the sea.
Lazily rocking on ocean’s breast,
Something in common, old friend, have we;
Thou on the shingle seek’st thy nest,
I to the waters look for rest,-
I on the shore, and thou on the sea.
~Bred Harte ‘To a sea-bird’~
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