Moorhens are climbing, Goldcrests

are chasing, Coots are contesting

NEWBRIDGE,  JANUARY 4th,  2014

Cold and damp but comparatively calm, a break in this seemingly endless run of storms that have battered out the Old Year and blown in the New.  The trees are bare, trunks glistening with overnight rain, the paths through the wood brown and damp under a carpet of rotting leaves and broken branches.  Birds and humans are out and about again, a weekend clutch of joggers striding their way along the towpath, dog-walkers waiting patiently as their pets nose the earth by the canal arm bridge.  Above them Crows and Magpies call in the leafless treetops as Chaffinch, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Robin, Dunnock and Wren busy themselves in bankside bushes.  Two Stock Dove fan in and perch close together, their iridescent neck patches clear even in the dull light, a Nutchatch calls, and the clear but as yet subdued notes from a Song Thrush and the hollow drumming of a Great Spotted Woodpecker show that woodland territories are already being proclaimed.  A single Redwing arrows its way across the school playingfields, and thin high-pitched calls are traced to two tiny shapes flitting and fluttering their way along a hedgeline.  It's courtship time for Goldcrests, the birds calling continuously, the male's crest flaring and spreading from yellow to orange as he pursues his intended mate.  There's a sudden movement in treetops beyond the towpath, black wings arching upwards as a squat, unfamiliar shape edges its way slowly out along one of the highest branches to sit quietly next to another of its kind, two Moorhen, at least 15 to 20 metres above the ground.  It's not unusual to see this species climbing out of the water at dusk to roost in bushes and low trees, but these two seem to be high-altitude specialists.  Minutes later they've disappeared, presumably having flown back down to resume their patrols, low along the edges of the canal.  That's some change of scene.

DUNSTALL PARK,  JANUARY 5th,  2014                               

A westerly breeze, another dull day, and a mid-morning check at the racecourse reveals at least 200 Canada Geese and two Greylags grazing as 220-plus Black-headed Gull, an immature Herring Gull and 10 Lesser Black-backed Gull rest and preen.  The gulls rise suddenly as a Buzzard comes in low to skim the grass and head towards the Farndale estate perimeter, pursued by corvids.   Some of the gulls move to the shelter of the lake, where three male and one female Shoveler edge out from the island, and nine female and 13 male Teal fly up and then settle near two at least seven Coot.  Numbers of this highly territorial bird have risen in the comparatively warm weather of recent weeks, and even this early in the year, pairs are gearing up for noisy and aggressive clashes as they defend nesting areas.   Two Grey Heron stand hunched in rough grass near the shoreline, a single Snipe is motionless at the base of the island, and thin calls from bankside sallows reveal the presence of a single male Reed Bunting, the washed-out version of his dark black summer bib just visible.  After a few minutes he flies off towards the west, and I walk back towards the east, and to a cup of hot Bovril at home.  Cheers.

(Dunstall Park is a closed commercial site.  Access is strictly controlled).        

PS.  This morning (January 6th), a male Blackcap is bossing birds on my garden fatball feeder. Long may he stay . . .