Let us dance in the sun, wearing wildflowers in our hair

Despite the harsh spring weather, the garden was coming into its own. As the bulbs faded and herbaceous grew in leap and bound, it was clear that summer was here to stay. It was also time to get back into the lawn mowing regime, as the grass and the weeds were loving the warmer temperatures. It was a very good excuse to get a new lawnmower as our old one had gone to mow the lawn in the sky. Lush growth everywhere after the glorious spring blossoms and butterflies and bugs started appearing. A juvenile Blackbird and a Marsh tit was a welcome sight. The garden was alive and colourful again.

Come into the garden, Maud,

  For the black bat, night, has flown,

Come into the garden, Maud,

  I am here at the gate alone;

And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,      

  And the musk of the rose is blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,

  And the planet of Love is on high,

Beginning to faint in the light that she loves

  On a bed of daffodil sky,

       

To faint in the light of the sun she loves,

  To faint in his light, and to die.

All night have the roses heard

  The flute, violin, bassoon;

All night has the casement jessamine stirr’d

  To the dancers dancing in tune;

Till silence fell with the waking bird,

  And a hush with the setting moon.

I said to the lily, “There is but one

  With whom she has heart to be gay

When will the dancers leave her alone?

  She is weary of dance and play.”

Now half to the setting moon are gone,

  And half to the rising day;

Low on the sand and loud on the stone

      

  The last wheel echoes away.

I said to the rose, “The brief night goes

  In babble and revel and wine.

O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,

  For one that will never be thine?

      

But mine, but mine,” I sware to the rose,

  “For ever and ever, mine.”

And the soul of the rose went into my blood,

  As the music clash’d in the hall:

And long by the garden lake I stood,

  

  For I heard your rivulet fall

From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,

  Our wood, that is dearer than all;

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet

  That whenever a March-wind sighs

     

~Alfred Tennyson, ‘Come into the garden, Maud’~

We made several trips to our favourite playground and spent hours at the hide, observing and photographing Mother Nature at her best. As soon as we parked the car, we were greeted by this handsome Swallow checking us out. It was lovely to see him on the wire as they usually spent most of their time on the wing. Highly adapted to aerial feeding, they were extremely agile in flight. They had arrived from South Africa, flying over the Sahara to breed here. Now was the time to rest and replenish before finding a mate.

When we walked through the visitor centre into the courtyard, we were greeted my this Pied wagtail with a beakful of juicy morsels. She was watching us, waiting for us to move away so that she could feed her chicks. After posing for a few photographs, we left her in peace. She had a nest under the solar panels where she’d been using for a couple of years. The eggs were incubated for 13 days and the nestlings fledged after 14-15 days.

At Baldwin Hide, we checked the courting behaviour of the Common Terns. They had arrived from their wintering grounds along the coasts of the tropics and southern hemispheres,  These delightful silvery-grey and white birds had long tails which earned them the nickname ‘sea-swallow’. They’d buoyant, graceful flight and hovered over water before plunging down for a fish. The long pointed wings gave them the fast, buoyant flight. They were noisy in company and bred in colonies. .

The male had selected a nesting territory a few days after his arrival and was joined by his previous partner unless she was more than 5 days late, in which case the pair may separate. Pairs were established through aerial courtship displays in which they flew in wide circles, calling all the while, before descending together in zigzag glides. On the ground, he courted her by circling her with his tail and neck raised, head pointing down, and wings partially open. When she responded, they adopted a posture with both head pointing upwards. Then the magic began

Three floating pontoons were specially erected for the Terns but unfortunately one was occupied by a pair of nesting Canada Geese. One unhappy Tern showed his displeasure with an alarm call, opened his wings, raised his tail and bowed his head to show his black cap to the goose. Unfortunately, the nesting pair was here to stay until the goslings hatched. Until then, the Tern might have to find another pontoon. The nest might be a bare scrape in sand or gravel, but was often lined with whatever debris was available. Up to three eggs may be laid, their dull colours and blotchy patterns provided camouflage. Incubation was by both sexes and the eggs hatched in around 21-22 days. The downy chicks will fledged in 22-28 days. 

We were chuffed to bits when we found out that the Oystercatcher which was nesting by the island had a chick. We couldn’t see it at first because it was so well camouflaged. We knew it would appear as soon as one of its parent arrived.  Chicks often remained hidden under vegetation, rocks, etc, and this behaviour probably reduced the risk of predation.  The egg had hatched after being incubated between 24-39 days. The parents shared parental duties such as incubating the eggs, brooding the young chicks, chasing potential predators and provisioning the chicks until well after fledging. The parents then flew in with their distinctive and shrill piping ‘kleep, kleep’ calls. Their loud calls and gregarious behaviour made them harder to miss.

The downy chick had a tiny, weeny black bill, pale-mid grey upper parts with black markings and off white underparts. It was totally dependent in its parents for food until it could fly. It would fledged in 33 days but still dependant on its parents for food, and often seen begging from their parents well after fledging. Their main diet was shellfish and included mussels, cockles, clams and limpets but for the chick, it was earthworms and insect larvae. Oystercatchers were also one of the few species of waders that carried food to their young. Only one item of prey was carried per trip. One of the parent was also prising or hammering open a mussel with its strong, flattened orange bill.

A Greylag came quite close to the chick and one of the parent literally flew towards it, using the long orange-red bill as a weapon. It was dive-bombing, making contact and screeching its head off. During the breeding season, pairs aggressively defended their territory. Chicks were vigorously defended by both parents, often well after fledging. This was because they only made one nesting attempt per breeding season, which was timed over the summer months. Usually, the pair returned to the same mate and territory year after year.

The chick left the nest within one or two days of hatching. Although it was dependent on its parents for food and protection, this little guy was quite independent and was wandering along the mudflats, under the watchful eyes of its parents. But if it sensed danger, it will freeze. Chicks were warned of danger with a sharp, loud ‘chip’ or ‘click’. I found it so adorable that it found the heat unbearable and was finding shelter under a bush. Soon, it would have a dark tip to the bill, browner dorsal plumage and grey legs.

The Oystercatcher family had shared the island with a family of Coots. It was quite incredible to see two very territorial birds nesting on a small island. After being incubated by both parents for 21-26 days, 4 adorable ‘cootlings’ were hatched. The chicks were precocial, but were brooded at the nest for the first 3-4 days.They were black with scattered yellow down around the head. The bare crown was reddish. The bills and the very small shield were red. Eyes were hazel to grey-brown.

There were lots of short contact calls ‘kow’, ‘kowk’, ‘kup’ or sharp ‘kik’. The parent used several foraging methods such as scraping algae from substrate, gleaning, dabbling, upending, diving and grazing for seeds, aquatic plants, worms, leeches and insects. Food was brought up to the surface rather than eaten underwater and fed first bill to bill by both parents. Coots could be very brutal to their own young under pressure such as lack of food, and they would attacked their own chicks when they begged for food. Thankfully, there was an abundant of food here.

From time to time, we could hear the Cuckoo calling and the calls were getting closer and closer. But first, we’d to stop at East Marsh Hide and it was like a waders creche. On the main island, was another family of Oystercatchers with 3 adorable chicks. That was a full house and trying to keep an eye on them was going to be a nightmare for the parents. Since the island was overpopulated with families of Canada Geese, Lapwings and Mallards, they were moving off to another island. Unfortunately, one of the chicks wasn’t too keen to swim across and kept on turning back. But Dad was there to keep him in line.

The gulled sky shrieks above a mournful sea;
In the grey austerity, the wind moans.
Like candyfloss, spun by the waves,
The spindrift balloons above the billows.
Stunted, tenebrous trees claw at the waves
Which gargle and gurgle through time-worn stones.

Bladderwracked rocks peep from the Stygian depths,
Then disappear below the breathing tide.
The brittle reek of iodine and kelp
Pervades this melancholic atmosphere.
Flashing white "V"s, screaming over the waves,
Suddenly a flight of oystercatchers

With their insistent whistling, hits the shore.
Scuttering in the receding water,
Their orange bills probe like nodding donkeys.
They're happy enough in their quest for food,
Immune to man's weather-born changing moods
And unconcerned about the gathering storm.

~William Messent ‘Oystercatchers’~

A Lapwing chick was on the mudflat and was waving the family bon voyage. It was covered in down when it hatched and was able to walk and feed within hours. All Lapwing chicks are nidifugous, leaving the scrape or nest shortly after hatching to wander, still downy and on disproportionately long legs. This chick was very independent, spending time foraging for invertebrates around the edges of the mudflats. However, it still relied on its mother to brood, as it was unable to regulate its own body temperature. It was also vulnerable at this age, relying on its parent to alarm call at the sign of danger and on its camouflage to protect from predation.

Its parent was keeping an eye on a pair of Little Ring Plovers. The nest and chicks were defended noisily and aggressively against all intruders but the Plovers were much more interested in foraging. Small and rotund waders, they foraged for invertebrates and crustaceans in a very distinct way; standing and watching, running forward, pecking, daintily picking up morsels of food then standing still again. It was quite cute to watch them scuttering across the mudflat, sometimes energetically trampling around on the sand to flush prey out of hiding places.

A male Muntjac made an appearance on Wigeon Bank. Bucks had short antlers growing from long pedicles which were usually unbranched. The visible upper canine or tusks suggested that they were primitive species. There was a ginger forehead with pronounced black lines running up the pedicles. He was feeding on the young shoots as he walked along the path into the other deeper parts of the reserve. Muntjac were known as ‘barking deer’ from the repeated loud barks given under a number of circumstances but I’d never heard them.

When we heard the Cuckoo calls getting closer, we made our way to Ted Jury hide. But, I had to stop to photograph this Orange Tip, my first photograph of the year. It was true sign of spring being one of the first species to emerge that hadn’t overwintered as an adult. I’d seen them earlier but they were always fluttering about. This butterfly do not form discrete colonies and wandered in every direction as it flew along the hedgerows and woodland margins looking for a mate, nectar sources or foodplants. This was a male with the orange tips to the forewings which were absent in the female.

We continued walking and was distracted by a small olive-brown warbler actively flitting through the trees with a distinctive tail-wagging movement. It was picking insects from the trees and often flew out to snap them up in flight.  When it settled on a branch, we found out that it was a Chiffchaff. At this rate we will never reach Ted Jury. This warbler got its name from its simple distinctive, repetitive cheerful chiff-chaff. This song was one of the first avian signs that spring had returned. But in summer, after finding a mate, it went quiet.

Finally, we were at Ted Jury and just in time for the Cuckoo, a dove-sized bird with blue grey upper parts, head and chest with dark barred white underparts. They were summer visitors and well-known brood parasites with the females laying their eggs in the nests of other birds, especially Meadow pipits, Dunnocks and Reed warblers. Only the male cuckoo calls cuckoo while the female’s bubbling call was often said to resemble the sound of bath water running out when the plug was pulled. Unfortunately I’d never heard the female’s call.

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice.

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,

Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass

Thy twofold shout I hear;

From hill to hill it seems to pass,

At once far off, and near.

Though babbling only to the Vale

Of sunshine and of flowers,

Thou bringest unto me a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my school-boy days

I listened to; that Cry

Which made me look a thousand ways

In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green;

And thou wert still a hope, a love;

Still longed for, never seen.

And I can listen to thee yet;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O blessèd Bird! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, faery place;

That is fit home for Thee!

William Wordsworth ‘To the Cuckoo’

After the pair had gone, a Hobby did a fly-past with its long pointed wings. Hobbies were flying aces among Falcons. Cutting and swirling through the air with graceful beats of their long wings, performing agile and daring manoeuvres. Dragonflies and other insects were easily snatched right out of the air, while Swifts and Swallows were swooped on with deadly speed. They were the only falcon that spent the winter months south of the Sahara desert and also the only falcon that bred in Britain to have a red under-tail coverts and ‘trousers’.

A Great Spotted woodpecker flew onto the nearby tree. It was a female because there were no red markings on the neck or head. It was clinging to the tree trunk hunting for insects, larvae, ants and spiders in the nooks and crevices. Easily accessible items were picked off the barks or from fissures in the bark, but larvae were extracted by chiselling holes and trapping them with the tongue. The stiff tail feathers were used as a prop against the trunk. Then it flew off with a very distinctive bouncing flight.

After all the excitement, we thought of chilling out at Steely Hide before heading home. But then, the Kingfisher appeared and all you could hear were our cameras rattling again.

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 ‘The Kingfisher’