THURSDAY 28th FEBRUARY 2013

Dimmingsdale to Newbridge, via Pool Hall, Wightwick and Compton

Bright, high thin cloud, dry, cool, 10.15 to 12.5oam.

Why a wad of weed is just so wonderful

At last a break in the endless grey, so a walk along the southern end of the Smestow Valley to stretch limbs and reconnect with life.  All very quiet, but there's an air of expectation, still very much the end of winter but behind the silence a feeling that the earth is beginning to breathe once more, that the sap is starting to rise.  Part of the main lake at Pool Hall is still frozen, but a pair of Mute Swan are already in residence, standing close together in the shallows to preen, while Moorhen fuss aound the ice-free fringes.  There's more activity on the dam lake, a male Pochard diving to feed, a handsome chesnut/grey slab of a duck that's been here for some weeks, seven male and two female Tufted Duck floating in a loose raft, at least 16 Coot criss-crossing the water in their perpetual quest for confrontation, and nine Canada Geese honking and wing-flapping as they waddle along the top of the dam.  Half-hidden by waterside willows there's another shape, slipping smoothly out of sight, only a glimpse, but keep watching, and sure enough, one of Britain's most beautiful birds emerges from the depths.  It turns and waits, slim neck and sharp bill pointing back to the margins where its mate appears, swimming out from the shallows as if summoned, the Great Crested Grebes are back in all their summer-plumaged finery.  They are together now, a mirror-image, alternately head-shaking and neck-twisting, engaging in a ritual between breeding pairs now being performed on open waters all over the country.  Suddenly one dives, resurfacing with a wad of weed, approaching its partner and gently presenting the green offering to strengthen the bond between them.
These birds are simply stunning, slim, sleek, graceful and exotic to the point where you wonder if they're from another continent, head feathers fanning outwards in a mixture of black and orange-red, shading through yellow to pure white, their sharp, slender bill extending to dark eyes by a black band, their branding-iron fore crowns spikey, flat and black when displayed.  This is an in-your-face fashion-statement in feathers from a species once pushed to the brink of extinction by British women wanting "grebe fur" to trim their hats and clothes.  In the early 1880s there were fewer than 40 pairs left in the UK, but these wonderful "Satin" or Tippet" grebes, as they were known, had the last laugh.  Public revulsion at their persecution led to a group of women forming the Fur, Fin and Feather Folk, a wildlife protection body which from 1904 became known as the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds.  The rest, as they say, is history (there are now very probably more than 10,000 birds present across Britain).  Grebes have nested at Pool Hall for years, but in 2012 were absent, as 18 months of drought had left the dam lake all but dry.  Now they're back, hopefully to stay . . .
It's onwards along the towpath towards Wightwick as Skylark sing high against the blue, 19 Stock Dove forage on fields between the Smestow brook and the canal, and a male Yellowhammer calls from a bush by Castlecroft bridge.  There's nothing along the brook, but a Buzzard flies from a garden tree overlooking Wightwick fields, rising to circle as the mid-morning air warms.  It's still quiet, high-pressure weather has this dampening effect, but Goldfinch tinkle and trill from the pines hill by Wightwick Mill canal lock, and mewing calls anounce two more Buzzards, a pair following each other along the treeline bordering the Wolverhampton Environment Centre, then turning to circle low over the sand-extraction fields before rising, in no time lost to view, high against the sun, a territory to announce and defend as the breeding season starts.  A male Sparrowhawk circles above the Compton allotments before cutting sharply down and disappearing into Bridgnorth Road gardens bordering the Smestow.  A male Bullfinch calls from the railway cutting north of Alpine Way, and from there it's up on to the Compton barleyfield, with views across to the city and northwards to Cannock Chase, a chance to check for raptors, prime time now as the clear air continues to warm and rise.  Sure enough, there's a dark-plumaged Buzzard low over Newbridge, and two more birds are circling high over Aldersley, drifting away towards Stockwell End, then floating back, taking the chance of a bright day to announce their presence as a nesting pair and to defend their territory.  Check for birds even higher, and yes, there's a Buzzard way above them, seeming to hang in the air before moving slowly away towards the east.  The stranger has gone, our birds drop down, one wing-angling and slanting fast towards Pendeford, the other . . . well, it's vanished, haven't a clue where to, it seems today's show is over.  Just a taster though, March is a Buzzard month, so it's all eyes on the skies.