Category: Biology

Redwing – Turdus iliacus

The Redwing (Turdus iliacus) is a type of thrush, so it’s really no surprise that they eat worms, as do other members of the family.

Description: The redwing is a small-sized thrush with a length of 20-24 cm and a wingspan of 33-34 cm. It has a brown back, reddish-orange flanks and underwing, and a white eyestripe. The male and female redwing are similar in appearance, but the male has a slightly larger bill.

Habitat: The redwing is a migratory bird that breeds in the Arctic regions of Scandinavia, Russia, and northern North America. During the winter months, it migrates south to the UK, Ireland, continental Europe, and as far south as North Africa. The redwing prefers to inhabit woodlands, hedgerows, and open countryside.

Diet: The redwing is an omnivore and feeds on a variety of insects, worms, and berries. During the winter months, when insects are scarce, redwings primarily feed on berries, particularly hawthorn and rowan.

Breeding: The redwing breeds in the Arctic regions of Scandinavia, Russia, and northern North America, where it builds a nest out of twigs, grasses, and moss. The female lays 4-5 blue-green eggs that are speckled with brown, which both the male and female will incubate for 12-14 days. Once hatched, the chicks are fed by both parents and will leave the nest after around two weeks.

Conservation Status: The redwing is classified as a species of least concern by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). However, the population has declined in some areas due to habitat loss and fragmentation, particularly in the UK.

Fun Fact: Redwings are known for their distinctive high-pitched calls, which are often heard during their winter migration. They are also one of the first birds to arrive in the UK in the autumn, with some individuals arriving as early as August.

Marsh Harrier harried by Rooks

I startled a male Marsh Harrier (Circus aeruginosus) that was resting on the banks of the Cottenham Lode at the dog-leg near Rampton Spinney. The bird took fright and flight and flew off into an adjacent field and began hunting for small mammals in the crop growing only to subsequently be hounded rooks. It had somehow managed to grab at least one morsel of mammalian prey from the field in between times. In my later photos of the event, it looks as if the rook got a nice plume of feathers from one of the raptor’s wings.

Bullying Greenfinches

Recently, I posted a video of argumentative Goldfinches. This species seems to be the more common sight on our garden bird feeders. There is a flock of about 12 that spend their time flitting about the environs, competing with the flock of House Sparrows that live here too. And, there are Tits (Great, Blue, and Coal), at least two Robins, a pair of Dunnocks, a couple of Blackbirds, Wood Pigeon, Collared Dove, peripatetic Starlings, and an escaped show pigeon (a noisy and leucistic specimen). We’ve even had a Redpoll that visited briefly.

One species that seemed to have become a little rarer recently is the Greenfinch, a species of which I’d not seen much in the last couple of years even on country walks. This year, however, there seem to be quite a few about and several took a fancy to one of our feeders.

The halcyon days of the fisher king

The Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) (a.k.a. the Eurasian Kingfisher, and the River Kingfisher is one of seven resident subspecies that range across Eurasia and North Africa. Some do migrate when their rivers freeze although they are mostly resident. There are at least two residing in Milton Country Park, north of Cambridge. Here’s one of them, a male. Is that his tongue poking out? I stalked him and saw him dive for a fish, this snap was moments after that.

The English name has a fairly obvious and yet colourful emtyology. The Kingfisher is a bird that catches fish and it has majestic plumage: an electric blue upper body and head, vivid orange breast, white neck patch and vivid blue streak down its back. Hence fisher king, Kingfisher. The female’s lower bill also is orange-red with a black tip. Mnemonically speaking, many birders refer to this as the female’s “lipstick” so they can sex the bird at a distance or from photographs. The scientific binomial, Alcedo atthis is even more romantic, however.

Alcedo is from the Latin for kingfisher, which in turn comes from the Greek word halcyon. A halcyon was a mythical bird (not a kingfisher) that made its nest on still waters, hence our notion of halcyon days, peaceful days, when a nest might be built even on water. Atthis, of course, was a beautiful maiden from Greek mythology known to be a favourite of Saphos of Lesbos

The Wheatear has nothing to do with ears of wheat

UPDATE: Just reading in “Wonderland” by Stephen Moss (the bird bits, I assume) and Brett Westwood (the other bits) about how in 1766, naturalist Thomas Pennant noted that 20000 Wheatear were caught on Eastbourne downs and sold in town by the dozen for sixpence as a tasty snack.

Shocking to the modern ear as that sounds in terms of this delicate little bird being a foodstuff it’s not really any worse than eating any other animal. But, it’s the numbers they caught that seem staggering. This was the pre-industrialisation era when flora and fauna boasted far greater numbers than we ever see today in the age of plastic and pollution. The RSPB website says there are about 240,000 breeding pairs in the British Isles each summer.

Wheatear at the Slaughden end of Aldeburgh, Suffolk, May 2017

The Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) is a small, old-world flycatcher. It’s scientific binomial is a tautonym, both words are the same meaning it is the archetype of its class. The word itself comes from the Greek for wine, oenos and anthos meaning flower and is linked to the bird’s return to Greece in the spring when the grapevine is in blossom.

Wheatear RSPB North Warren, Aldeburgh, Suffolk, April 2017

Its English name, Wheatear, conjures up farmland perhaps, crops swaying in the breeze as the bird hops about foraging for insects and grubs. But, it’s nothing of the sort, it comes from the late 16th Century and refers to the colouration of the bird’s rump, it was known as a “white-ears”, which eventually morphed into wheatear. But, it’s not its “ears” that are white, rather it has an obviously white rump seen in flight. “ears” (aers) meaning hindquarters, or buttocks, dating back hundreds of years, thence “arse” in modern English (etymology here). In French the bird is a “cul blanc”, same thing, white rump.

To feed or not to feed – fat is the question

Recently, I posted about whether or not you should feed wild birds in your garden. The obvious answer if you like birds, is: of course!

Research in the news today asks the same question in the context of emergent diseases that are afflicing avian populations. Here’s the paper.

The bottom line is they don’t really know. You are assisting wild birds if you put out food and keep feeders and bird tables clean. Some birds lacking food and water in harsh weather would otherwise die. But, if lots of different species congregate on dirty feeders with mouldy or rotten food and guano, then emerging diseases can spread more quickly than they would in the wild and birds might be exposed to potentially lethal mycotoxins. The scientists suggest that recruiting citizen scientists could be important to understand better the risk-benefits of feeding wild birds.

In the meantime, the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) and the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) stress that we should continue to put food and water out, but make sure feeding and drinking stations are kept clean and guano free and any rotten food residues removed regularly.

If you notice lethargic birds in your garden or birds that seem to look dishevelled and don’t end up preening themselves smart again, then you need to remove all the food you’ve put out, disinfect cleaners, tables, etc and not put any more food out for at least a month.

Song Thrush versus Mistle Thrush

If you saw and heard a Song Thrush (Turdus philomelos) sat next to a Mistle Thrush (Turdus viscivorus), you’d probably be able to tell immediately that they were different, even if you’re not a birder, although they’re both very similar. However, a lone thrush sat high up in a neighbour’s tree (coincidentally near the mistletoe) is it a Song or a Mistle?

The lone bird Mrs Sciencebase spotted this morning was cackling like the Mistle in this video from BTO and it did seem to be slightly bigger than a Blackbird (Turdus merulea). When it sang it was melodious but didn’t repeat itself; a Song Thrush would repeat a phrase 2-4 times before ad libbing another lick and then coming back to earlier ones. Song Thrushes are also a bit smaller than Blackbirds.

It seemed upright and pot-bellied, its breast was not rusty/rufous like that of the Song Thrush although it’s overcast and grey, so that might be the light? However, the spots on its breast are circular splodges rather than arrow-shaped, so that hints at Mistle Thrush too

Here’s the bird, is it a Mistle Thrush or a Song Thrush? The upper photo is sharp on the eye, the other sharp on the breast spots.

Photographing the Cambridge Peregrines – Part 2

Having recently photographed the Peregrines (Falco peregrinus) that share their time between the few high buildings of Cambridge (see Cambridge Peregrines Part 1), Mrs Sciencebase and myself ventured a little further afield (having had a tipoff from a birder friend about another local pair).

So, this morning we found ourselves in the wastelands of Cherry Hinton the southeastern suburb of the city of Cambridge. We ventured into a local wildlife reserve there that was originally a chalk quarry that back in the day mainly supplied materials for college construction and local building work.

Mrs Sciencebase spotted first one Peregrine, which flew across the East Pit and then a second that entered and settled on a chalk cliff face, a sight you most definitely wouldn’t expect to see in a Cambridge suburb. I got shots of the second and then moving slightly closer it took flight and alighted on the opposite cliff, basking in the sun for a few moments before flying off in the direction of its partner and out of the pit.

Siskins at Lackford Lakes

A cold and grey day at Lackford Lakes (Suffolk Wildlife Trust) a few miles north-ish of Bury St Edmunds turned wet and properly cold while we were stalking a flock of 100+ Siskin (Carduelis spinus also known as Spinus spinus). I got a few shots in between showers, but as we were leaving the sun came out, so went back around the short walk at the site and snapped a few birds we’d seen in low light earlier in the day, including a solitary female Siskin on a nijer seed feeder. Pictured immediately below, female.

Siskins used to be known as Black-headed Goldfinch, because of the male’s black cap and their close resemblance to Carduelis carduelis, the Goldfinch. Male Siskins pictured below.

Cottenham-upon-Sea

The Cambridgeshire village of Cottenham lies partly on an ancient (early Cretaceous) lower greensand ridge just 8 metres above sea level and until the draining of the Fens in the 17th century it was essentially the only dry land between the city of Cambridge and the Isle of Ely almost 20 km northeast of the village. Regardless, the nearest stretch of seaside is about 60 km away (as the crow flies) and so you don’t necessarily expect to see seabirds in this village…unless, of course, you head northeast out of the village on Long Drove until you reach the gravel pits.

There you enter a world of wonder visible from the passing places along the drove: Gulls of many kinds, including recently an Iceland Gull, but more commonly Lesser Black-backed, Greater Black-backed, Herring, Black-headed Gull,
Gadwall, Shoveler, Tufted Duck, Teal, Coot, Mallard, Wigeon. It’s like having a waterfowl bird reserve in our back garden. Of course, strolling around such a site would be dangerous and as it’s private property, I did not venture beyond their boundaries, snapping from the safe side of the gate.