World Curlew Day

April 21st (Thursday just gone) was World Curlew Day. Curlews (or Eurasian Curlews to give them their full name) are one of my favourite species, but sadly are in steep decline. In the last few years, they've disappeared from a couple of areas where they previously bred on my old local patch, and the news isn't generally good elsewhere. Related species such as Whimbrel also face pressures, and of course the Slender-billed Curlew has effectively gone extinct within the last 20 years.

All of which means World Curlew Day is a thoroughly good thing. One thing I learned on Thursday was that the date was chosen, according to the Welsh Ornithological Society, as it's the feast day of the 6th century Welsh saint Beuno, who blessed the birds and said that they should always be protected. That sort of thing is a bit of a recurring theme with Dark Ages saints – St Cuthbert, for example, was supposed to have protected Eiders, and was also tended to by Ravens and Otters, among others.

Among other things, St Beuno is supposed to have been to have been so appalled to hear the English language being spoken that he went as far west as he could (the Llyn Peninsula) to found a monastery and get away from the uncouth Germanic invaders. I wrote a poem about it, that appeared in my second collection, hydrodaktulopsychicharmonica.

PS I'll try to post the poem some time soon, but I've mislaid my copy of the book. 

Scotland in spring

I've taken a break from posting for 10 days or so because I was up in Scotland co-leading a readers' holiday, preceded by a couple of days of family history research around Portsoy (where my great-grandmother on my dad's dad's side grew up).

I had some success with the latter – I've found three leads which should take me a fair time to follow up. And as always up around Strathspey, the Cairngorms, the Moray coast and the Black Isle, the birding was excellent. 

Golden and White-tailed Eagles were great to see, as always, as were lekking Black Grouse, lots of Snow Buntings, Slavonian Grebes in their glorious breeding plumage, and Black-throated Divers in their finery.

But the highlights were two White-billed Divers, off Burghead and Roseisle. It's a new species for me, and it's really pretty hard to see in the UK. Small numbers winter off the coast (mainly off Scotland), and in recent years it's emerged that many of them gather in the Moray Firth, mainly off Portsoy and Cullen, as they start to head back north. 

Wild Art Photographer of the Year

Just a reminder about Wild Art Photographer of the Year – the 2022 competition is now open for entries. It's a competition that puts the emphasis firmly on the more creative, artistic side of wildlife photography, and you a superb book of last year's winners and outstanding entries is available if you want to get an idea of exactly what I'm talking about. 

I'm back (again)

Yes, yes, I know. My promises to resume posting regularly here have been about as reliable as the Tory government's...no, I'm not going to go there. I have the urge to blog, and to write more generally, and I suspect one of the main reasons is the utter chaos out there at the moment. So, I'm going to restrict myself to talking about poetry, and literature more generally, and birds, and history, and maybe some cricket (although, there's not much about England that inspires me at the moment). I can't guarantee it will be upbeat, exactly, but it will definitely be more fun than the news.

Is the Ivory-billed Woodpecker extinct?

I've talked about this species before, both in the context of the search for it in the last 10 to 15 years, and with respect to a poem of mine that was, in part at least, inspired by it.

This article doesn't really take things any further, but makes the point that there are still ornithologists who hold out hope for it, and who would prefer it wasn't declared extinct (not least because if there's at least a chance of it still being alive, there's an additional reason to preserve certain habitats).

Ian ‘DIM’ Wallace, 1933-2021

There have been a lot of tributes online to the great Donald Ian Mackenzie Wallace (known to all as Ian or ‘DIM’ Wallace, after the signature he used on his artwork), who passed away in his sleep on November 4, aged 88, after more than half a century as one of the leading figures in British birdwatching.

Renowned as an artist, a writer (in Bird Watching Magazine, British Birds and countless books, including Birds of the Western Palearctic), he had a huge influence on just about anybody who has taken up a pair of binoculars in the last 50 years. 

First and foremost, though, he was a birdwatcher who knew the subject inside-out as a result of close observation in the field, and who was always happy to share his knowledge with great enthusiasm and passion.

I didn't know him well, but enjoyed bumping into him every year at Birdfair, when he would appear through the crowds in his kilt and tartan bonnet, then offer suggestions and ideas for Bird Watching Magazine. I'd come away from every encounter enthused and invigorated (and with a notebook full of useful information) – one of Ian's defining characteristics was his positivity (although always tempered by realism).

Probably the biggest influence he had on me, though, is through the book pictured above and below. When I was a kid, I had an earlier version of it, and although the artwork isn't his, he's listed as one of the authors. That figures – the text is packed with concise but memorable ID hints, and information on behaviour, but it's also full of quirky little snippets of folklore and history, and communicates a love of birds in very much the same way that Ian did. It remains my favourite field guide.

So, farewell and rest in peace, Ian. We're all the richer for your work, and for having known you.

 

Europe's bird extinction crisis

This, I'm afraid, is utterly depressing and terrifying in equal measure. I'm used, like any other birdwatcher, to reading about worrying declines in all sorts of species. Turtle Dove is one which has been much talked about (although to very little effect), and then there are the likes of Willow Tit, and Curlew. The former has disappeared from large parts of the UK, as has Willow Tit (with some small glimmers of hope in old industrial areas), while the speed of the latter's decline is alarming.

But the species being talked about here are absolutely everyday birds. Rook, for heaven's sake. Swift. If they too are starting to shrink back into ever-smaller breeding areas, where they raise ever-smaller numbers of young, then it's hard to avoid the conclusion that we have broken the natural world beyond repair.

Dominic Couzens wins top award

It's always nice to be able to post about good news, and Dominic Couzens winning the British Trust for Ornithology's Dilys Breese Medal earlier this week is certainly that. 

It's awarded by the BTO every year, to someone who has championed and spread the word about their work, and who has encouraged people to take part in citizen science themselves.

Dom has certainly done that. He's an author, broadcaster and all-round naturalist, and also an all-round good guy and a pleasure to travel and go birdwatching with. I've been lucky enough to go on foreign trips with Dom over the years, and the thing that strikes you is just how much he notices. I know, I know, you'd think that all birders and naturalists would do that, and they do, but Dom takes it to a different level.

That comes out in his writing. Throughout the 15 years I've been at Bird Watching, he's written a feature in each issue, taking a close look at a particular species, always with the main focus on behaviour. Every issue, when the feature arrives by email and I read it through before it goes to the designer, I find myself amazed at how many new facts he has uncovered, even about very familiar garden species that you thought you knew really well. And yet, although the features are packed with research, they're written in such an engaging and accessible style that you can imagine anybody, even the most casual birdwatcher, being absolutely enthralled. 

Congratulations Dom!

Iamb Poetry

Yesterday was National Poetry Day, a fact which I have to admit had escaped my notice until it was too late to do anything about it. Busy week at work, and all that.

Mark Antony Owen, who has created the fantastic Iamb poetry website, very kindly tweeted a link to my appearance on the site last year – you can hear me read three poems (including Grail Birds, inspired by the Ivory-billed Woodpecker referenced earlier this week).

But take the time to have a browse through the whole site. It's a superb resource, an inspiration, and a reminder that however good it is on the page, poetry needs to be heard, too (or at the very least, it takes on a whole new dimension when it is heard). 

There are new poets being added there on a regular basis, too, so it's a site to bookmark and keep returning to.

The Lord God bird

So, the Ivory-billed Woodpecker is officially no more, although I suspect that won't be the last word on it. Those like Tim Gallagher, who claim relatively recent sightings and who have led exhaustive searches for the bird, are unlikely to be convinced, and I'm far from sure that I am.

I was lucky enough to go on a birding trip with Tim a few years back, and in the evenings he talked to us about his sightings and his searches. Some of what he told us can be found in interviews such as this.

When I got back, I went straight out and bought his book The Grail Bird, and having found it enjoyable and fascinating in equal measure, bought Imperial Dreams, his book about the search for the Imperial Woodpecker (the world's largest) too. If anything, it's even better.

Whether the Ivory-bill is still out there somewhere, only time will tell, and probably a lot of time at that. But even if it does hang on in some swampy forest of the American South, it's future can't be bright.

Alliteration and the Anglo-Saxons

I came across this article on alliteration in English language poetry, and of course it starts with the Anglo-Saxons, and specifically Caedmon. It's something of a general overview, so many of you may already know most of this, but nevertheless I found it sending me off to look up a couple of things, as well as back to the Anglo-Saxon originals of The Seafarer and The Wanderer.

The first of those, incidentally, is a poem packed with ornithological detail, to the extent that one writer considered that he could say with confidence that the poet was writing about the Bass Rock during a particular week in April. You can find out more about that in my book A Sky Full Of Birds (yes, yes, I know, shameless plug), but I'll also post about it in more detail at the appropriate time in April.

The Lord God Bird

Poet Laura McKee shared this song on Facebook yesterday, and I'm glad she did. Partly because it's a great song, and has encouraged me to seek out more from Stevens (I'd heard bits and bobs previously, but clearly not enough).

But partly because it also reminded me of the whole controversy over the existence or otherwise of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, the species being referred to. It's the subject of an excellent book, The Grail Bird, by Tim Gallagher, one of the men who claimed to have rediscovered the bird in Arkansas some years ago. He's also written Imperial Dreams, an account of searching for the related Imperial Woodpecker in the Sierra Madre in Mexico. If anything it's even better than the first book.

It's still hard to come to any firm conclusion about whether the Ivory-billed still exists, but I went on a birding trip with Tim once, and have no doubts about his sincerity. Nor can I see what he would have to gain by making up the claims.

But anyway, enjoy the song, and enjoy the books if you get a chance.

Redshank

And one more wader from Minsmere, the eternally nervy Redshank, although this one laid off with the alarm calls for a while to preen and sleep on a fencepost in front of one of the hides. They're a familiar sight on most wetlands, of course, but that doesn't mean that they're not worth a second look.

Black-tailed Godwit

There were large numbers of Black-tailed Godwits at Minsmere RSPB, in all their breeding finery. Presumably these are birds that simply haven't made the journey to their northerly breeding grounds, although a few might also be failed breeders that have already returned. Whichever was the case, they were a pleasure to see – I love waders anyway, but these are among my favourites.

I do wax lyrical about waders in my book A Sky Full Of Birds – it's available to buy here, or you can use the email link on the right to get a copy direct from me (I'll even sign it if you like).

Spotted Redshank

Even by my standards, that's a pretty ropey pic, but it's the best I could do from long distance, craning over several people in a crowded hide. It's a male Spotted Redshank in full breeding plumage, so different from the way I have generally seen them in the past, in winter plumage.

Marsh Harrier

Also very much in evidence at Minsmere RSPB were Marsh Harriers. They're a common enough sight in the Fens close to our office, too, but it's easy to forget that 40 years ago, when I was just starting to get interested in birds, they were very rare indeed. Even now, there are fewer breeding pairs in the UK than there are breeding pairs of Golden Eagles – it's just that the Goldies are harder to see because they're in much more remote, inaccessible areas. But anyway, the return of Marsh Harriers are proof that organisations like the RSPB are making a real impact in some areas - we just need to start paying more attention to the habitat everywhere else.

Dartford Warblers

I was over at Minsmere RSPB in Suffolk earlier this week, and also managed to have a look at some of the smaller reserves nearby. At Westleton Heath, I heard and then saw four Nightjars. Having waited until it was almost dark, I'd pretty much given up hope that they were present, and then all started 'churring' at once, before they started to fly over the heath, with their white wing flashes standing out in the murk, and their 'wing clapping' loud in my ears.

The next day, I went back to see what might be around in daylight (I'd been told Turtle Doves were a possibility). No such luck, but Dartford Warblers were plentiful and were showing very prominently atop the gorse and other bushes. They're not great photos (as ever), but these were the best views of the species that I've ever had in the UK. Good to see that the Beast From The East earlier this year didn't hit them too badly – I'd heard that Cetti's Warblers in the area had been pretty much wiped out.

Why Do Birds Suddenly Disappear?

We recently ran an excellent feature by Lev Parikian in Bird Watching, about the theme of this book. I can recommend it very highly, whether you're already a birder, a lapsed birdwatcher, someone dabbling around the edges but determined to learn more, or an absolute beginner. Above all, it's about what it means to be a birdwatcher, and why building a connection to nature matters. Try it.

Strange spring

It's been a funny old spring, bird-wise. The cold temperatures right into the first week of May, and the northerly winds that brought them, held up the arrival of many migrants, and even now, I've yet to hear a Cuckoo, have barely heard or seen any Willow Warblers, and missed Wheatear altogether (although that was more that I haven't been to any suitable habitat, really). Hirundines and Swifts have been sparse, although numbers are starting to grow now.

On the other hand, some species, such as Yellow Wagtail, appeared in large groups when they did arrive, and there have been decent passages of things like Black Tern (plus a couple of White-winged Black Terns). Up at Frampton Marsh RSPB last week, there were some good waders – lots of Dunlin and Avocets, a few Curlew Sandpipers and Little Stints, and Greenshanks.

Some of these things may be connected to longer term declines or increases, but others are part of what makes migration, and birdwatching, so endlessly fascinating. Things turn up where they shouldn't, or when they shouldn't, or both, and so you never know quite what you'll find when you leave the house.

It's something I touched on in my book A Sky Full Of Birds – you can buy it here, or if you'd prefer a signed copy I have paperbacks available. Just email me if you're interested.

Redstart Day

I've probably written on here before about the fact that April 20th is, in my mind, Redstart Day. For years, on my old patch, I would see Redstarts migrating through the area, usually in a hedge at Thornton Reservoir, but occasionally at somewhere like Groby Pool.

The date already had great significance, because it was the birthday of my older sister Rebecca, who died of cancer in 2004, aged 35. And somewhere along the line, the two things became linked in my mind, and going out and seeing a Redstart became a little ritual of remembrance.

Of course, there's a self-fulfilling prophecy element to it. Migrating Redstarts favour particular habitat, so you have to go out looking for them specifically, and most years, I've probably not visited likely sites until the 20th has rolled around and jogged my memory. Still, it's a habit I can't kick.

So, when my colleague Mike Weedon found one at Ferry Meadows Country Park, just along the road from the office, this morning, I had to go to take a look. And there it was, a gloriously sharply-marked male, flitting up and down a hedgerow, and occasionally dropping down to the ground to eat a tasty morsel. A couple of Whitethroats were frequenting the same hedge, and a bit further along, a Lesser Whitethroat showed up, too. Evidence that, after the long winter and cold spring, migration is in full flow.

I wrote about this, and the miracle of migration more generally, in my book A Sky Full Of Birds, which is available online, at most bookshops, or direct from me (if you want a signed copy).

But I also talked about them for BBC Radio 4's Tweet of the Day, recently – you can listen to it here.