Vegetative electron microscopy

When I was a chemistry student, a friend on the engineering course always struggled to reach the prescribed word count for his essays, so he and I would sit in his room, have a few beers, and generate word salad. We’d turn his simple and dull prose (if you could even call it that) into the most overblown and hyperbolic drivel, just to pad out his essays so he could submit them. It took him five years, instead of three, to complete his degree. I think he got a third, in the end. Went off to South East Asia to fix boilers on ships…

Anyway, in the age of machine reading and machine learning, my skill in generating artificial intelligence for him is perhaps redundant. Anyone can prompt an LLM, large language model, to produce drivel by the shipload. And, it seems, more and more academics are doing just that. Feeding their hypotheses into machines, cranking the handle, and generating content they then submit to predatory or naive journals for publication.

Discontent, more like.

The trouble with using machines to write and not having someone to hand with the skills to check what has been generated, to remove the nonsense phrases and the AI hallucinations, is that lots of journals are filling up with drivel. Retraction Watch landed on a meaningless, but scientific-sounding, phrase that seems to have been used countless times in papers over the last few years. Vegetative electron microscopy!

According to RW, the phrase seems to have come from a 1959 paper that has been assimilated into a database using an errant optical character recognition (OCR) system, one that didn’t take into account the separate text columns in the old paper. So where in the left-hand column there was the phrase “vegetative cell”, the word vegetative was at the end of a line in the column, and the phrase “electron microscopy” was adjacent to it in the right-hand column.

The image shows a screengrab of the 1959 paper about vegetative cells and the electron microscopy used to research them. I've highlighted where the problem phrase would've emerged if OCR failed to note the gap between columns.
The image shows a screengrab of the 1959 paper about vegetative cells and the electron microscopy used to research them. I’ve highlighted where the problem phrase would’ve emerged if OCR failed to note the gap between columns.

A human reader would not have made that mistake.

Now, that phrase seems to be turning up in research papers. They can’t have been written and checked by any real scientists and not by any referee or editor, surely? The research literature is becoming heavily polluted with paper-mill dross.

Ultimately, our student shenanigans did not matter to the wider world. But, in a world where scientific endeavour is being derailed by moronic politicians and their henchmen, we need a stronger science base, not one polluted with such nonsense as vegetative electron microscopy. It leads to distrust in scientists and in science, it gives those who peddle pseudoscience, disinformation, misinformation, and fake, greater leverage to shake off the facts and replace them with ill-informed, politically-driven opinion. They can call out this fakery and tell the public that they can no longer trust science.

Science relies on a solid scientific literature. Given how much publishers charge for their “editorial services” and their finished products, is it too much to ask that they actually do some editing, and edit out this kind of drivel? Apparently, some papers that had this ludicrous phrase have been retracted, others have been deemed fine by the publishers (who obviously really couldn’t care less as long as they get their money), others have had corrections published.

The presence of this fingerprint phrase is not an accident, it’s not a typo, it shows that the paper was faked. Even if the authors were simply copy-and-pasting boilerplate content that contained the fingerprint (and there are others), then that would be plagiarism, wouldn’t it? But, what is obvious is that nobody bothered reading the text before submission to a journal and nobody on the editorial team nor among their referees read it either and so these dodgy papers are sitting in the literature like so much sawdust in a dodgy loaf of bread.

Egrets, I’ve seen a few

In the 1990s, East Anglian birders seeing this species locally might have noted it as a mega because it was so rarely seen in the UK, but as with the Little Egret, and more recently the Great White Egret, this ostensibly African species, the Cattle Egret, has spread its wings and found a home here. There are other species, such as Glossy Ibis, that are doing the same to a lesser degree, but may well become as common as those African egrets, given time.

Fluffed up Cattle Egret in a field behind a horse
Fluffed up Cattle Egret in a field behind a horse

The latter frequents muddy fields inhabited by hooved mammals, the other two the waterways and flooded gravel pits. Part of their spread is down to habitat formation over here but also the shifts in climate that mean they found conditions acceptable as they extended their range northwards out of Africa and then the Mediterranean region.

Fluffed up Cattle Egret
Fluffed up Cattle Egret

The Cattle Egret is the archetypal avian shytkicker, it follows cattle, horses, and sheep as they munch their way around fields and picks off the invertebrate life disturbed by the hooves; just as they would’ve done among the wildebeest and zebra in their homeland. They will also eat mice and frogs given the chance. They’re often quite grubby given they’re usually pecking about the mud of livestock farms and paddocks, but as they come into mating plumage they take on some lovely peachy feather shades within their brilliant white plumage.

Two fluffed up Cattle Egret in a field behind a horse
Two fluffed up Cattle Egret in a field behind a horse

Great White Egret has taken advantage of the crayfish in the lakes of Northern France. Having range extended to there several years ago, it’s not a big hop across La Manche to reach the Somerset Levels or East Anglian gravel pits.

Great White Egret
Great White Egret

Cattle Egrets bred in Somerset in 2008, according to the BTO website, with two pairs nesting there. There have been numerous breeding attempts since and the species is slowly expanding in southern Britain. The BTO statistics seem rather out of date, suggesting just 66 wintering birds in the UK. But, there were reports of a couple of hundred on the Somerset Levels and we have seen groups of a couple of dozen in the nearby village of Swavesey. Others report 30-40 in that same village and in and around Fen Drayton Lakes and other local areas. I hope the BTO will be updated soon. Certainly, BirdGuides no longer considers a Cattle Egret sighting as a mega these days.

Wild canaries, volcanoes, and whales – Tenerife 2025

Our first ever week of winter sun and we headed for Los Gigantes, Tenerife, in the shadow of El Teide. A bit of walking, some birding, whale watching, and a sampling of sangria, paella and the local piscine delicacy, cherne. Oh, and there was music and cocktails (Mai Tai* for me).

Sunset over Mount Teide, Tenerife
Sunset over Mount Teide, Tenerife
Atlantic Canary, Serinus canaria
The Atlantic, or Wild, Canary, Serinus canaria, is a finch commonly found on the Canary Islands, related to Serins and Siskins. Of course, its name comes from the islands not vice versa. The Romans named the islands “Canariae Insulae”, meaning “Islands of the Dogs” because of the abundant “sea dogs” on the beaches, these creatures were Monk Seals, Monachus monachus
Monarch butterfly, Danaus plexippus
It’s hard photographing Monarchs at the top of a palm tree
Monarch butterfly, Danaus plexippus
Even harder catching them in flight. Monarch butterfly, Danaus plexippus
Southern Tenerife Lizard, Gallotia galloti galloti
Southern Tenerife Lizard, Gallotia galloti galloti
Southern Tenerife Lizard
Another Southern Tenerife Lizard
Eurasian Whimbrel, Numenius phaeopus
Eurasian Whimbrel, Numenius phaeopus

We managed the boat trip to see dolphins and whales, not easy to get good shots from a moving boat. We were treated to Short-finned Pilot Wales (pod of 7 or 8 male Globicephala macrorhynchus, the big-nosed globe-head) that hunt for giant squid in the deep waters (600+ metres) between Tenerife and the neighbouring island of La Gomera (beyond it El Hierro). We also saw a pod of Atlantic Spotted Dolphin (Stenella frontalis, narrow-fronts). The swimming opportunity at Masca Bay was short as we’d apparently overstretched our time on the open water; neither of us felt like taking a dip, anyway, given our gastrointestinal status.

Atlantic Spotted Dolphin, Stenella frontalis
Atlantic Spotted Dolphin, Stenella frontalis
Short-finned Pilot Whale, Globicephala macrorhynchus
Short-finned Pilot Whale, Globicephala macrorhynchus
Red Rock Crab, Grapsus adscensionis
Red Rock Crab, Grapsus adscensionis, I prefer its other name: the East Atlantic Sally Lightfoot Crab

It was wonderful to have such long, sunny and warm days on Canary time. While sunrise was close to 8am, sunset was not until almost 7pm and the temperatures were in the low to mid-20s during daylight, so it was perfect in many ways. It’s certainly a tonic for one’s mental health to be able to bask in the sun at that time of the evening in swimming kit. Moreover, it is at a time of year just ahead of our birthdays when we might usually be braced against the Arctic northerlies on the Norfolk coast looking out for Snow Bunting and instead we were listening to Canary Island Chiffchaff and Atlantic Canary from our sun loungers while the countless Yellow-legged Gulls flew to roost among the 5-million-year old cliffs beyond the hotel.

Spectacled Warbler, Curruca conspicillata
Spectacled Warbler, Curruca conspicillata, on derelict banana plantation
Bertholet’s Pipit, Anthus berthelotii, saw on El Teide and then on derelict area along coast
Bertholet’s Pipit, Anthus berthelotii, saw on El Teide and then on derelict area along coast
Spanish Sparrow, Passer hispaniolensis
Spanish Sparrow, Passer hispaniolensis
(Feral) Rock Dove, Columba liva, aka Common Pigeon
(Feral) Rock Dove, Columba liva, aka Common Pigeon
Canary Islands Chiffchaff, Phylloscopus canariensis
Canary Islands Chiffchaff, Phylloscopus canariensis

There was always a chance of seeing either a fishing Osprey or a Sea Eagle (White-tailed Eagle) off those same cliffs, but we never did catch sight of either of those sadly rare and endangered species. I had also hoped for the iconic Blue Chaffinch among the pine glades en route to Mt. Teide, but no luck with that species either. Also failed to see Common Hoopoe on any scrubby, ant-ridden patches of bare land, but we did tick several other species and sub-species and a couple that we hadn’t seen anywhere before.

Avian sightings

Atlantic Canary, Serinus canaria (numerous)
Atlantic Yellow-legged Gull, Larus michahellis atlantis (many)
Barn Swallow, Hirundo rustica (on journey to hotel?)
Bertholet’s Pipit, Anthus berthelotii (Mt. Teide and then on derelict area along coast)
Canarian Common Kestrel, Falco tinnunculus canariensis (Mt, Teide and then several on airport return journey or maybe Lesser Kestrel sometimes, Falco naumanni)
Canary Islands Chiffchaff, Phylloscopus canariensis (lots, loud)
Eleonora’s Falcon, Falco eleonorae (to hotel and then at Playa de la Arena)
Eurasian Collared Dove, Streptopelia decaocto (loads)
Eurasian Whimbrel, Numenius phaeopus (rocks before Playa de la Arena)
European Robin, Erithacus rubeculla (cafe with pines up to Mt. Teide)Feral Rock Dove, Columba livia (plentiful)
Lesser Black-backed Gull, Larus fuscus (according to ObsId)
Little Egret, Egretta garzetta (on rocks and once flying off Los Gigantes)
Pied Avocet, Recurvirostra avosetta, a pair, twice flying up the coast
Raven, Corvus corax 1x (cafe at bottom of Mt. Teide and 2x from bus back to airport)
Ruddy Turnstone, Arenaria interpres (rocky coast)
Spectacled Warbler,  Curruca conspicillata (coastal derelict site)
Spanish Sparrow, Passer hispaniolensis (plentiful around hotel etc)
Sparrowhawk, Acipiter nisus,  (possibly sub-species, from return bus)
White Wagtail, Motacilla alba (heard only, over hotel)

Aloe vera flowers
Aloe vera flowers

Non-avian animals list

Atlantic Spotted Dolphin, Stenella frontalis
Short-finned Pilot Whale, Globicephala macrorhynchus
Mullet (fish)
Honey Bee feeding on palm trees
Emperor Dragonfly x2 (one at pine cafe one in Los Gigantes
Other dragonfly, brown, smaller darter type
Southern Tenerife Lizard, Gallotia galloti galloti (rocky wall after the arena and elsewhere)
Red Admiral x2 (pines cafe)
Female Canarian Cleopatra butterfly (above arena)
Small Tortoiseshell (hotel)
Some big-ish bees, honeybees, grey bees
Monarch, Danaus plexippus (Route 66 cafe near hotel)
Large White (en route back to airport)

That reference to gastrointestinal status? We’d had quite a grim start to our first ever winter sun holiday. I woke on flight day with what I assumed was food poisoning. I was pretty much over it by our first morning on Tenerife. But Mrs Sciencebase succumbed after a short walk to the harbour below the huge cliffs of Los Gigantes, so it wasn’t food poisoning, has to have been viral, whoops. We did our best with the trip, but Mrs Sb wasn’t up to much walking and had to miss out on the trip to the otherworldly volcanic peaks of El Teide.

*Mai Tai – White and dark rum, lime juice, orange liqueur, orgeat (almond syrup), Angostura bitters, ice, and a cinnamon stick.

Acemannan from aloe vera

While I was chasing the Monarch on Tenerife, I grabbed some photos of some intriguing yellow, spike-like flowers growing from a succulent. I should’ve known, they were Aloe vera flowers. Aloe vera is well known as one of those plants that have been used in topical remedies for centuries and for which modern claims have associated with them a whole host of hyperbole. Indeed, there are Aloe vera tetrahedral sales systems the world over. Mostly BS, of course.

Aloe vera flowers
Aloe vera flowers

Nevertheless, gel from the leaves of the plant is supposed to be an immunostimulant, antiviral, antineoplastic, and have gastrointestinal properties. The gel-forming polysaccharide, a mucopolysaccharide, acemannan is claimed to be the active ingredient. It’s worth noting that the plant’s leaves also contain a toxin, aloin.

Acemannan has the luxurious IUPAC name:

(2S,3S,4R,5S,6S)-6-[(2R,3R,4R,5S,6R)-6-[(2R,3S,4R,5S,6R)-5-acetamido-6-[(2R,3R,4R,5S,6R)-4-acetyloxy-6-[(2R,3R,4R,5S,6R)-4-acetyloxy-6-[(2R,3R,4R,5S,6S)-4-acetyloxy-5-hydroxy-2-(hydroxymethyl)-6-methoxyoxan-3-yl]oxy-5-hydroxy-2-(hydroxymethyl)oxan-3-yl]oxy-5-hydroxy-2-(hydroxymethyl)oxan-3-yl]oxy-4-hydroxy-2-(hydroxymethyl)oxan-3-yl]oxy-4-acetyloxy-5-hydroxy-2-(hydroxymethyl)oxan-3-yl]oxy-4-acetyloxy-3-[(2R,3S,4R,5R,6R)-4-acetyloxy-5-[(2R,3S,4R,5R,6R)-4-acetyloxy-3-hydroxy-6-(hydroxymethyl)-5-methoxyoxan-2-yl]oxy-3-hydroxy-6-(hydroxymethyl)oxan-2-yl]oxy-5-hydroxyoxane-2-carboxylate.

2D structure of the chemical acemannan from Aloe vera leaves
2D structure of the chemical acemannan from Aloe vera leaves (PubChem)

Canaries go to bed later in the winter

Having spent a week in February in Tenerife and enjoyed the much later sunsets and warmer weather than the UK, I thought I’d add a footnote to my blog post about our trip to explain those later sunsets.

There are two factors at play, first the Canary Islands are much further west than the UK but are in the same time zone (GMT at this time of year). The islands being about 1500 km west of the UK, or 15 degrees of longitude, means that as the earth rotates and the sun goes down there the islands lag behind by about an hour 60 minutes. So if sunset in London is 5pm, it will be about 6pm in the Canaries. However…

The Canary Islands are located around 28–29° N, while the UK is at a much higher latitude (around 51–59° N). The closer you are to the Equator the less difference there is between the number of daylight hours in the summer and winter. The sun essentially rises and sets at roughly the same time year-round, whereas it varies so much more in the UK. In the UK, the days are much shorter in February due to the tilt of the Earth. The difference in latitude accounts for another hour.

So, on our trip, the Tenerife sunset was a little before 7pm whereas it was about 5pm in the UK, which made for some balmy early evenings watching the Atlantic roll across the rocks and the sun go down behind La Gomera.

Bearded Reedlings showing well at RSPB Ouse Fen

This species, Panurus biarmicus, used to be known as the Bearded Tit, because of the black facial markings on the male and perhaps its resemblance to the Long-tailed Tit. But, it’s not closely related to and of the birds we call tits and is the only living (extant) species in the Panurus genus.

Male Bearded Reedling, Panurus biarmicus
Male Bearded Reedling, Panurus biarmicus, feeding on seed head

It lives among the wetland reeds, feeding on their seeds and those of the reed mace/bulrushes. There are lots of them flocking about on our local converted gravel pits.

These days they’re more properly known as Bearded Reedlings, although if they’d wanted to correct the obvious error, they could’ve called them Moustached or Mutton Chop Reedlings. Either, they’re almost always known simply as Beardies among birders.

Male Bearded Reedling, Panurus biarmicus, feeding on seed head
Male Bearded Reedling on seed head, tail pointing skyward

If you’re wandering about the reed beds of our local reserves, listen out for a pinging sound, that’s the bird’s contact call. You can almost imagine it as being the sound effect for a miniature sci-fi laser gun – peww, peww, peww…

Specific site they’ve been showing well recently is the Earith side of RSPB Ouse Fen (you may recall I’ve mentioned the patch before with reference to starling murmurations and various rarities, including Purple Heron. There are lots all over the fen, but they have been particularly visible, vocal, and close on the shortcut that cuts through the centre between Lockspit’s Mere and Crane’s Fen.

The male pictured  above spent a good ten minutes right in front of us shredding and feasting on this seed head and in his messy haste helping spread the plant’s seed. Most of the seed heads nearby had been ravaged by the flock.

For anyone planning a visit. There are three places to park to visit RSPB Ouse Fen. Needingworth, Over, or Earith. The Needingworth end of the reserve is a long way from the reedbeds, so not the place for the Beardies. Over is accessible via a very rough largely unmade road. There are Beardies there among the reeds in the “canal”. But, Earith, which is disconnected from the other patches is the best place to see them at the moment. The main spot I mentioned earlier is across the middle of that area, but you might hear and see Beardies anywhere among the reeds there.

Best time to visit is when it’s sunny and not too windy. Beardies will hunker down in bad weather, but if it’s calm they will flit about between patches of reeds and hop up and down the steps to feed and drink and interact.

Incidentally, a Eurasian Penduline Tit, Remiz pendulinus, was present on the site recently, this too is also not a “tit”.

Bird ID apps

I’ve been using the Merlin bird ID app for several years and often recommend it to friends. It listens to the nature sounds around you and uses AI to identify the tweets, chirps, and whistles of the birds calling and singing. I have a garden ticklist to which I add the IDs the app records in a separate list. Merlin includes a bird photo ID component, which works a bit like iNaturalist’s Seek or Google Lens, but just for birds and better. The app works for birds anywhere in the world and is simple to use…but…

Goldcrest
Goldcrest

Since the app’s last major redesign and update I’ve noticed it seems to ignore some birdsong even though I can very clearly hear them and later on the recording the app saves. So, that’s become rather annoying. I also find that if I let Merlin run past its usual 10 minutes, a much longer recording will usually crash the app when trying to load and analyse the sound file.

Great Tit
Great Tit

I’m not sure what’s going on, Cornell Uni, the creators of the app need to get these issues sorted. Until then, I have sought a replacement and found BirdUp. BirdUp does the same kind of sonogram analysis as Merlin, but seems to pick up more in the tests I’ve run this morning in the garden. Unlike Merlin, it lists in sequence what it hears and doesn’t collate the soundings into a shortlist, which makes the timeline seem fussy.

However, with each sound it picks up you get more immediate details (sound volume, likelihood of that bird being the one it reports, and also details about the sound itseld and the frequencies the birds call or sing at). Speaing of which, unlike Merlin, BirdUp defines the bird sound as call or song and in some cases even offers a description. On one of my long test recordings from a previous Merlin session, it was picking up Robins and labelled the first few sounds as the call, but then a subsequent sound was flagged as a Robin’s alarm call. It picked up the “ping” call of Chaffinch, the “wheezy song” of Greenfinch, and “rattle call” of Great Tit, as opposed to the other types of call and song these birds produce.

Nuthatch
Nuthatch

Additionally, I’ve been able to run some of those over-long sound files from Merlin using BirdUp and getting a decent list of what was around at the time. Some of those files were from our biology field trip holiday to northern Greece and Lake Kerkini in 2024, so it’s nice to be able to pluck out the Cirl Bunting, Golden Oriole, and Nightingales from those files.

Eurasian Jay
Jay

The bottom line is that Merlin doesn’t seem to work as well for me as it had over the years and while I still recommend it, I’m going to switch to BirdUp for regular use and check back in with Merlin periodically to see if there has been a major update to improve the issues I’m experiencing.

Paxton Pits Nature Reserve

It’s quite some time since we last visited Paxton Pits Nature Reserve in Cambridgeshire, well before the covid pandemic, March 2019, in fact, if my photo archive dates are to be believed and before that January 2018. Tempus fugit, as they say. And, speaking of things that fly and sound a bit Latin, there were plenty of Regulus regulus among the fir trees not far from the site’s visitor centre.

Goldcrest at Paxton Pits Nature Reserve
Grumpy Goldcrest at Paxton Pits Nature Reserve

The nature reserve is, like so many of our local sites gravel pits that have been turned over in whole or in part to nature. It saves the aggregate companies having to back-fill once they have excavated all the millions of tons of sand and gravel they need and gives nature a chance to thrive in areas that would otherwise be turned back into unused flatland. The Paxton reserve was, until World War II, largely farmland on the edge of the village of Little Paxton. The gravel excavations were started during the war. There is still activity, but a large area is now lakes for wildlife, trails, and some lakes for fishing and boating activities.

Goldcrest taking flight at Paxton Pits Nature Reserve
Goldcrest taking flight

Not far from the visitor centre was the site of the former farmhouse. The historical sign there tells visitors about the farmhouse that once stood on this spot and about the provenance of the row of quite tall fir trees that stand in front of where the farmhouse once was. Apparently, they were Christmas trees! They have now grown so tall that you’d need the longest of long ladders to put the fairy on the top and hang your baubles.

Anyway, it was among these fir trees that numerous R. regulus were darting about. Readers that are regulus as clockwork will know that this species is the UK’s joint smallest bird, the Goldcrest, as I’ve mentioned it before. Its equally diminutive partner is the slightly less common but equally tiny Firecrest.

A fellow photographer, who turned out to be on the reserve’s bird-ringing team, pointed out that the Goldcrests we were photographing were probably winter visitors from Scandinavia enjoying the slightly warmer climate of East Anglia and the rich pickings to be had on a sunny January day among the fir trees. She wasn’t entirely certain, but seemed to imply that there aren’t usually any in this location during the summer months although she had witnessed nesting in one of the Xmas trees previously.

Goldcrest are so small, so fast moving, and often spend their time in the depths of the needles of fir trees, that it is commonly rather difficult to get a good snap in sunlight. If you’re hearing isn’t shot, you can usually pick up their very high-pitched hissy tweets. However, the Scandinavians were rather obliging today and at least I got a couple of nice shots of these delightful creatures with their golden crests.

A Kestrel for a Knave

A Kestrel for a Knave was a book by Barry Hines published in 1968. It was adapted for the Ken Loach film Kes.

Kestrel perched on a solitary, vertical branch

The protagonist, Billy Casper, was played by actor David Bradley who later had to adopt the stage name Dai Bradley, because there was already an EQUITY member, the RSC actor David Bradley. You may know the latter from many a TV drama, as unintelligible Arthur Webley in Hot Fuzz, as Filch in the Harry Potter films, as the first Doctor in Doctor Who and as William Hartnell in An Adventure in Space and Time, and Walder Frey from Game of Thrones, etc…I met him once, I mentioned it before.

As for Dai Bradley, he was also in the film Zulu Dawn, a couple of other films and various TV parts.

When the book was reprinted after Kes the film, they used the infamous scene of Billy sticking two fingers up for the cover…I grew up with this book…I was infamous by proxy as a child.

The waxing and waning of the Waxwing

In the winter of 23/24 we had a Waxwing irruption. This is a sudden influx in large numbers of a species driven from its usual habitat and habit because of changes in the local conditions. In the case of Waxwings (Bohemian Waxwings, specifically) they spend their summers in breeding grounds in the far north, Scandinavia, largely.

As winter encroaches a few will head south and west and the Scots often report sightings early in the season. However, if there are plenty of berries on the bushes and trees in Scandinavia, the majority will stay put. Each bird can eat dozens, if not hundreds, of berries every day, so there is occasionally a chance that demand will outstrip supply. When this happens the birds, along with the winter thrushes (Fieldfare and Redwing) will be forced to head south to find food.

The birds will occasionally head south in waves. Large flocks might turn up in seemingly unusual places like city parks, supermarket car parks, churchyards, and other urban sites and even gardens. Usually, it’s wherever there are berry-laden rowan trees, although the birds will eat mistletoe, ivy, and any other winter berry they can find. Birders usually report the flow of birds south and it often seems like the Waxwings specifically follow the roads. Roundabouts and service stations often have berry trees, after all!

waxwing benton 2 e1523904354898

In the winter of 24/25, we’ve barely had any Waxwings in England. A handful! In early January, 2024, Mrs Sciencebase and myself were watching a flock of 30+ that were hanging around the ivy-encrusted trees near a local railway station and alighting on the rowan trees. This year, there has been a bumper crop of berries much further north and at the moment, the birds have no need to head south.

That said, they will, if there are sufficient birds, eventually eat most of those berries and the birds will then need to head south to feed. I remember about eight years ago a flurry of Waxwing activity on rowans at the bus stop close to the Cambridge Science Park and that was in April…so there is time yet.

Interestingly, BBC Winterwatch had a short piece in episode 1 this season about the species, discussing how the bird’s tongue has a barb to help them gulp down berries whole. The team didn’t mention the fact that we’re unlikely to see an irruption this season, sadly.