TUESDAY 19th MARCH 2013

Dunstall Park

Cold, dull, damp, light SE wind, 10.30 to 11.45am.

Flick, flick, flick, it's gone, gone, gone

Well, the first migrants are in, cf. Chris' warbler posting yesterday for the Compton barleyfield.  I couldn't locate any on the same morning at the northern end of the valley (trees along the old railway track from Newbridge to Aldersley are always a good bet), but maybe some joy today at Dunstall Park, despite a return to cold, grey weather.  Still bitter out on the middle of the racecourse, no gulls or corvids on the central grass, so hunch the shoulders and head for the lake.  On the way, check for migrants along the service track and drainage ditches, but nothing,  just a couple of Lesser Black-backed Gulls lifting off from a floodlight pylon and two adult Black-headed Gulls circling and leaving towards the city.  The honking of Canada Geese tells me they're already contesting nest areas around the lake and on the island, and sure enough, pairs are running at each other, necks forward, while others are content to graze or sit quietly on the water.  It seems the Mute Swan pair are still happy after a stay of some weeks,  Teal numbers are down to three adults and a female, two male Mallard chase a female across the top of the grass bank, and the Gadwall pair preen and rest on the base of the island, still here after a stay of over two months.  A closer check reveals that another pair of this attractive species (the male's plumage of black, subtle greys and soft browns puts him up with best of the breeding ducks) are feeding along the northern shoreline.  After a few minutes they move out on to the middle of the lake, and are immediately attacked by the "resident" male, the three birds circling the site before landing, the aggressor joining his mate and the two pairs then keeping a wary distance from each other.  This species was first known to breed in the West Midlands in 1970 at Belvide reservoir near Brewood, birds have nested there annually since the mid-1980s, and although they're still a scarce nester regionally, that site isn't too far away.  There's now much more cover for them at Dunstall Park lake, so who knows . . ? 

Enough of this, back to reality, a brief glimpse of a Little Grebe, now nearly in full summer plumage, keeping close to the vegetation, four immature Coot grazing on the banks (that's their place in the pecking order, it seems, the adults now nest-building, aggro levels lessening), a male Moorhen fussing along the shore (a pair are already sitting on a nest, snugly set on top of a lopped tree stump just out into the canal on the western edge of the racecourse),  a male House Sparrow calling from lakeside vegetation (one of a breeding population from the nearby Farndale housing estate), and four Snipe, motionless and beautifully camouflaged on the island, their numbers falling as winter ends.  That's it, time to go, the warmth of the hotel reception area beckons, so turn to leave, a last look, and suddenly a small light-brown shape flicks its way low across the water, stiff  bowed wings angled downwards, shallow beats, and the briefest of glimpses as it disappears below the eye line, no doubt about it, my first Common Sandpiper for the year, straightaway doing what its species does so well, and that's vanishing.  Look along the immediate shoreline and the concrete overflow apron, no sign, check the open culvert for the Smestow brook, there's no trace of it here, so walk round the lake once more, nothing, the bird has simply disappeared.  Hard to say whether this was a wintering bird (if it was, the first seasonal record for the valley), or a passage individual.  Certainly it's early for a regional migration record, and would be the earliest sighting for passage along the valley (one was at the lake from 2/4 to 6/4/2000).  Birds usually begin to pass through around the middle of April, and have been seen annually since the racecourse lake was created in the early 1990s.  Prior to that, irregular sightings were restricted to the canals or Smestow brook.  (This bird didn't call, but had it done so, I would have had no excuse if I hadn't recognised it.  Its sharp, thin, fluting notes led to its old Lancashire nickname  Dickie-di-dee.    Honestly).   

One way or the other, it's a good record which warmed the day, and another sign that things are at last beginning to move.  Had an e-mail from a friend in central France on Saturday with pictures of an Osprey catching fish in the Loire.  They're coming!  In a few weeks time, we'd best be checking every big brown gull . . .

NB  Dunstall Park is a restricted commmercial site.  Access is strictly controlled.