Category: Birds

The meadow pipit (Anthus pratensis) is a small passerine (perching) bird that breeds across northwestern Eurasia, from southeastern Greenland and Iceland to beyond the Ural Mountains in Russia, from south to central France and Romania. It is generally migratory, spending its winters in Southern Europe, North Africa and Southwestern Asia, but is also resident year-round in Western Europe (heading off higher regions to the lowlands in winter). I photographed this bird on moorland close to the Brecon Beacons, Powys, Mid-Wales, April 2017. Now added to my growing gallery of British birds.

Redstart (Phoenicurus phoenicurus) is, according to the RSPB website, mainly found in the north and west of the UK, with the greatest concentrations in Wales (I photographed this bird on woody encircled moorland in the Brecon Beacons, Powys, towards the end of April 2017). The species particularly favours oak woodlands, hedgerows, alongside streams and parkland. They dine mainly on insects, spiders, worms, and berries and you will spot them from April to September. They are yet another species, like the robin, that were originally classified as thrush-type birds (Turdus) but have been proved genetically to be old world flycatchers, Muscicapidae.

UPDATE: The Red Kite is thriving here in Cottenham and spreading its wings far and wide from the original reintroduction strongholds further afield. We have a small colony (20 to 30 of them as of December 2022) on the outskirts of our village that roosts in the farmland hedgerows and scavenges on the rubbish/recycling tip along with thousands of gulls of various species. By 30th, my birding Brendan counted 40+ and estimated that the total might be around 50.

The beautiful red kite (Milvus milvus) was persecuted to near extinction two centuries ago because of the mistaken belief that they were a threat to livestock. A committee was formed in 1903 to protect nests and eggs from hunters and collectors. The name, incidentally, comes from the Old English word cyta, which is most likely onomatopoeic of its call and the toy kite is so-called after the bird.

In 1986, the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) and NCC (now Natural England and Scottish Natural Heritage), joined forces to tender the idea of reintroducing the red kite to England and Scotland. In 1989, six wild birds acquired from Sweden were released in northern Scotland and four Swedish and one Welsh bird were released in the county of Buckinghamshire. In total, almost 100 birds from Sweden and Spain were released at various sites in the early 1990s. Successful breeding populations established themselves quickly. There are feeding sites in various locations and also in Wales where dozens if not hundreds or birds turn up to take food.

The barn swallow (Hirundo rustica) is the “British” bird with which we most commonly associate a sighting as being the arrival of summer (cuckoos are not so often seen, but heard). Of course, one swallow does not a summer make, as Aristotle (384—322 BC) had it.

It is a distinctive passerine, perching, bird with glossy, dark blue-black upperparts, a ruddy throat, an off-white breast, and famously, a long, forked tail. Feeds on small invertebrates and is often seen swirling in flocks low over water to drink and eat, or gathering on overhead wires. The perching swallow pictured here was photographed on an April evening (very early summer) in Trallong, Powys, Mid-Wales and the pond-dipping swallow on the moor top a few miles from there.

One swallow does not a summer make, nor one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy

Bagged a few nice shots of birds new to my British birds gallery this weekend on a short trip to Brecon (Aberhonddu) in Wales (Cymru) including several shots of stonechats (Saxicola rubicola). The stonechat is a small passerine, perching, bird that was bizarrely considered a member of the thrush family (just as was the robin (Erithacus rubecula), neither have much in common with the Turdidae to my eye and genetic evidence puts them in a completely different family, Old World flycatchers, Muscicapidae.

It’s a common enough bird, the pied wagtail (Motacilla alba yarrellii), you can spot its characteristic bobbing tail almost anywhere in the UK at almost any time of year, although they tend to leave northern Scotland in the depths of winter. We took a stroll around the outskirts of the grounds of Ickworth House in Suffolk, this fellow was anything but shy sitting on fence posts about 20 feet from us and our dog and only flitting to the next one if we made a sudden move. I positioned myself on one post two away from the bird, using the post to support and steady the camera.

With a fast shutter, short depth of field, focusing on his eye. Everything else out of that plane pretty much blurred, the background becomes homegeneous, but what happened to the galvanised steel wires of the fence in the shot is nice. With everything closer than his eye and everything further away out of focus, the wires look almost like plucked strings or perhaps soundwaves. I snapped him half a dozen times but he cocked his head towards us, almost in defiance as the dog stepped forward before flying off.

Needless to say the pied wagtail is also now in my burgeoning gallery of British birds. For those looking at this bird and thinking…pied wagtail? Surely that’s a white wagtail. Well, this is a slightly darker subspecies found in Britain as opposed to the more widespread (Europe, Asia, Africa, even Alaska) Motacilla alba. The etymology of “pied” meaning to have black and white garb comes from the pyed freres monks who wore black and white clothing, hence magpie, The Pied Piper, piebald horses, pied tamarin etc.

Although slightly slower-moving than the orange tip I photographed and blogged recently, the European peacock (Aglais io) is just as tough to catch on a pitstop, luckily there are so many dandelions in bloom in the set aside fields and elsewhere that it’s now quite hard not to get a photo!

If I remember rightly, this species lays its eggs only on nettles (Urtica urens) and hops (Humulus lupulus), so definitely a reason to cultivate a nettle patch and grow some hops (perfect for nettle wine and beer after the season too).

Unless you’ve been ignoring me on here, on Facebook, Twitter, 500px and elsewhere, you probably noticed I’ve had a bit of an avian fixation recently. I’m writing about them, photographing them for a gallery of British Birds, and generally educating myself about our feathered friends. By sheer coincidence, my own book publisher (E&T) sent me a copy of a book about birdsong (A Sweet, Wild Note) by my nest-mate Richard Smyth, which I have mentioned elsewhere.

In it, Smyth discusses the nature and context of birdsong, what it means to us and our best guess as to what it means to birds. He talks of avian musicality and our own efforts to emulate birdsong and to be inspired by it in various ways. My current avian addiction, which probably stretches back to spotting my first kingfisher almost thirty years ago had me noddling about with some musical ideas. Not so much attempting to emulate birdsong, but feeling inspired by one of my favourites, the blue tit, which I’ve happily stalked around local woodland as the trees vernalise and the dapper little chaps pair up.

We were walking in the back woods of Ickworth House in Suffolk…hearing blackcaps (Sylvia atricapilla) and the almost ubiquitous blue tits (Cyanistes caeruleus) and hoping to spot at least one of the former, which seem a lot more elusive than robins (Erithacus rubecula) despite their song being turned up to 11, although the robins were scarce too.

I did, however, spot a tiny bird with a black cap flitting between a couple of trees and tried to get the camera on to it from about 30-40 feet away, quite hard…but eventually got a focus. And sure enough it had a black cap, but it wasn’t a blackcap. Looked like a tit of some kind (what Americans might know as a chickadee). No blue, no yellow so not C caeruleus and not big enough for a great tit (Parus major). Mrs Sciencebase ID’ed it in situ as a marsh tit or a willow tit. Definitely not a coal tit (Periparus ater) different family and no prominent white band down the back of its head.

The marsh and willow are very similar in appearance with only subtle differences and according to my bird books neither is particularly associated with willows or marshes any more than the other. Although the marsh tit seems to prefer woodland of broad-leafed trees while the willow tit prefers woodlands near marshes and peat bogs and such. Go figure. Writing in his latest book on birdsong (A Sweet, Wild Note), Richard Smyth quotes expert Graham Shortt as explain that a marsh tit’s plumage looks as if it’s going to work, whereas the willow looks like it’s just got back from a three-day rock festival.

Anyway, a quick bit of processing of the photos and a tight crop and a question on Facebook and Brian Stone confirmed it as a marsh tit (Poecile palustris) rather than its close cousin the willow tit (Poecile montanus).

Dusky rear cheeks, glossy crown, lack of clear pale panel in the wing, pale base to the cutting edge of the bill

So, another bird bagged for the British Birds gallery. There are a couple of other shots of the same bird on the Facebook page I linked above as well as an unprocessed, uncropped shot.

Ornithological escape to the coast. There’s a bird hide overlooking the marshes (RSPB North Warren) not 10 minutes walk from our erstwhile pitstop in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. It’s just up the Thorpe Road past the (in)famous Scallop sculpture on the shingle shore. Anyway, a dozen grey herons, same again little egrets on the water, a couple of shelduck (Tadorna tadorna, another tautonym), some wigeon (Anas penelope) and others waterfowl in the hazy distance, the inevitable black-headed gulls and a tiny murmuration of starlings. Much closer to the hide a male reed bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus) of which I got a quick, not-worth-publishing snap. There various warblers around, although one “warbler” turned out to be a female wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) an early summer visitor to these shores. Here she is, feathers ruffled in the onshore breeze.

Heading back to the main road, spotted another bird I didn’t recognise, I think it’s a linnet (Linaria cannabina) corn bunting (Emberiza calandra) sat for a long time on a gorse perch glaring at me, while I slowly moved towards her with camera raised

Back at the ranch tame tits: Great tit (Parus major) on a neighbour’s nuts and a blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) emerging from a nearby, salte-roofed bird box.