Tag Archives: Gadwall

Natural History

A touch of winter at Wraysbury

Kestrel hovering over Wraysbury
Kestrel hovering over Wraysbury, under a wintry sky

Winter showed her wizened hand today. The bright sunshine of the morning quickly gave way to cloud under a chilly northerly wind. Zipping up my coat, I wondered if I’d see anything worth remarking, and plodded up the path in the flat light. I looked left at the river Colne, and a plump Water Vole splash-dived among some juicy Iris leaves that I guess it had been cutting. Once a common enough sighting, it’s now something very special.

The main lake was almost devoid of birds, a distant swan, a few black-headed gulls and a coot or two more or less summing it up, a dull day (apart from the vole). I rounded a bend and came face to face with a very fresh-faced, brightly-coloured fox. It stared at me for a glorious second, then turned tail and fled. Given the long narrow neck of land between the river and the lake, it must have run quite a way to escape.

Fungal mycelium in newly-fallen Willow trunk
Fungal mycelium in newly-fallen Willow trunk

Not much further, a riverside willow had fallen on to an ancient hawthorn, forming a striking arch. The broken trunk was quite hollow, only a couple of inches of the newest wood remaining as a thin fragile tube. These large trees grow rapidly to a considerable size — and suddenly fall. The wood is soft, and it seems that saprophytic fungi (or perhaps parasitic) can speedily destroy it. This tree was layered with a dry papery sheet of whitish mycelium, presumably whatever species it was that rotted the trunk hollow.

A dark brown Buzzard, almost without markings, floated broad-winged just above the small lakeside trees, almost close enough to touch.

Beside me, the lake suddenly exploded into a mass of pattering feet on water, as a dozen Gadwall rushed to take off. Perhaps these newly-arrived birds are from the frozen north, unused to the slightest human disturbance.

The end of the lake held a score of Tufted Duck, their numbers too increasing rapidly now, again presumably from colder lands to the north or east.

At the steel bridge, a Bullfinch repeated its insistent call, Deu, Deu. And over the grassy meadow, a Kestrel floated silently, hovered, drifted effortlessly upwind to hover again.

Natural History

Winter Gulls

Image
Flock of Common Gulls on Pen Ponds, Richmond Park
Flock of Common Gulls on Pen Ponds, Richmond Park

A fine cloudless day, with the jackdaws chasing about in the southwesterly breeze, the edge of Storm Eva that is blowing into the already flooded Northwest of Britain. A few winter ducks on the Pen Ponds – a Wigeon or two, a few dozen Gadwall – but the main surprise was the number of Common Gulls – at least thirty – in little flocks on both of the ponds. They can be seen here to have pale legs and ‘windows’ of white in their black wingtips, unlike the smaller Black-Headed gulls (there are one or two sitting in the water towards the left of the photo) which have very pale backs, no windows, and a black spot behind the eye (when they don’t have their chocolate-brown breeding hood, that is). Perhaps they have come down from the chilly North of Scandinavia to enjoy the very mild weather here.

Nature Reserves, Wildlife

Storms, Fieldfare, Gadwall, Wigeon: Winter is Here

Goldfinches
Goldfinches

A twittering, constantly moving flock of a dozen Goldfinches greeted my arrival at Wraysbury. The wind was already keen and I was glad of my thick fleece and waterproof jacket. A few Wood Pigeons and a Crow or two blew down the wind, hardly needing to flap. Even a Heron, doing its best to flap downwind as usual, rocketed past in the swift airstream. A solitary Fieldfare chattered to me from a bare thorn tree, its chack-chack unmistakable.

Broken Willow
Broken Willow

The stormy winds of the weekend had broken several large willows including the big one just North of the bridge: two branches had fallen, cracking off what are now revealed to be fragments of the hollow shell of the trunk. Willows and poplars are dangerous as the trunks are short-lived and often rotten inside: and the fast-growing branches can be very thick and heavy.

Spectacularly rotten hollow willow
Spectacularly rotten hollow willow

This tree by the lake snapped its seemingly solid, reassuringly mossy trunk and fell into the water. It was quite hollow, filled with soft brown beetle frass with finger-thick borings. Notice, however, the bracket fungus near the base.

Lake covered in winter wildfowl
Lake covered in winter wildfowl – Swans, Geese, Gadwall, Wigeon

The lake was covered in winter wildfowl, as the Channel at dawn on D-Day was covered with ships. I gave up trying to count the hundreds of Gadwall; there were dozens of Wigeon and Tufted Ducks, and plenty of Mute Swans, Canada Geese and Coots too. A few Cormorants, some with very white bellies, and a Great Crested Grebe or two made up the numbers. As I raised my binoculars, a Kingfisher darted from the near bank and raced right across the lake, perching on the far side.

Natural History

Surprised by a Snipe … in Richmond Park

The woods of Richmond Park were full of Jackdaws, constantly jostling for whatever position Jackdaws have in their noisy gangs. And the even noisier squawkings and screeches of the Ring-Necked Parakeets, of course, high in the trees or dashing about.

Out on the quieter grassland and bracken, now dry and brown, a Stonechat perched on a prominent lookout, its red breast, white collar and dark head distinctive.

A Kestrel drifted past, tail fanned, its handsome rufous back and dark wingtips characteristic; it turned and powered the other way, flew all across the open space over the anthilly grassland, and rose into a distant tree.

The upper Pen Pond had at least 6 Mandarin Ducks, the males ridiculously decorative, dressed like dandies and constantly showing off, alongside a few Pochard.

The lower Pen Pond had perhaps 30 Gadwall, a dozen Wigeon, a few Tufted Duck, and – best bird by far – a single Snipe that got up from the water’s edge near my feet, called ‘Creech’ once, and zigzagged rapidly off across the water, up and over the trees and the upper pond.

Natural History

First Winter Thrushes at Wraysbury Lakes

Hawthorn Berries
Hawthorn Berries
Rose Hips
Rose Hips

No wisecracks about Hips and Haws and keeping warm on chilly winter days! This morning it was actually more autumnal than wintery, with bright blue skies setting off the deeply red berries, the rosehips scarlet, the hawthorn berries crimson.

The birdlife however did give a hint of winter to come. The first half-dozen Redwings squawked softly and burst from the bushes in their peculiar way, twisting suddenly in flight to get out from between the branches, flapping noisily as they accelerate out of cover. A single big Mistle Thrush flew from higher up in a different tree.

A flock of Goldfinches, some Dunnocks, a Robin or two, a Blackbird, eight Magpies, a rapid Ring-Necked Parakeet, a Carrion Crow or two, and a few Black-Headed Gulls appeared here and there. A Sparrowhawk searched over the Poplar trees for unwary prey.

Down on the lake, too, the winter ducks are starting to arrive. There are good numbers of Gadwall (maybe 30) and Wigeon (50 or so) as well as Tufted (50) and Shoveler (100). A dozen Cormorants, a hundred Coots, a few Mallard, a couple of Mute Swans (where did they all go?), a few Canada Geese (ditto), and a solitary Great Crested Grebe made up the rest.

Yellow Inkcap Coprinus auricomus
Yellow Inkcap Coprinus auricomus

As a final treat, there was a slender, delicate stalk of the Yellow Inkcap, Coprinus auricomus, in the grass.

Nature Reserves, Wetlands

Ducklings at the Leg of Mutton Nature Reserve, Barnes (and House Martins)

Leg of Mutton Nature Reserve
Leg of Mutton Nature Reserve

An unexpectedly warm and sunny afternoon in May is an opportunity too good to miss, so I went out with bicycle and binoculars along the river, and spent some time in the Leg of Mutton local nature reserve at Barnes. This is a bit of a secret corner, as it’s not far from the WWT’s London Wetland Centre which is certainly far better known. It’s also quite beautiful in springtime, the paths dressed in Queen Anne’s Lace (cow parsley to you) and the lake resplendently blue with new green borders. From the woods, Blackcaps sang all over; from the reeds, both Reed Warbler and Sedge Warbler sang their cheerful repetitive songs: I had a fine view of a Reed Warbler atop the reeds shown in the photo. A Coot with five cootlings scooted about the end of the lake (to the left); a mother Mallard escorted a neat convoy of ducklings; a few Tufted duck preened; five male Pochard dabbled heads-down; more surprisingly, a pair of Gadwall paddled about on the far side. A Mute Swan sat on a nest amongst the reeds. The flowers were visited by masses of small bees. Apart from the planes overhead, the city felt far away.

House Martin Nests on Chiswick Mall
House Martin Nests on Chiswick Mall

On the other side of the river (with the help of the handsome green Barnes Bridge) I had a wonderful surprise: House Martins. Four were wheeling and chattering above Chiswick Mall, right by a house decorated with a dozen House Martin nests (many of them visible in the photo), and several in usable condition. This was news to me because the old colony a few hundred yards away was abandoned for whatever reason some years ago. But it is clear that the birds have nested repeatedly in the past few years, and it certainly looks as if they’ll nest again this year. The only small fly in the ointment can be seen on the extreme left of the photo: there is the remains of at least one nest behind some netting, so the birds must have been considered a nuisance on that side of the house, at least. Let us hope that their presence on the front doesn’t trouble anyone, as the colony may well be the only one in Chiswick, and is certainly one of not very many in West London. Being by the river, there are plenty of flies, and the house’s wide eaves with stout supports are ideal for the species.

Love of Nature, Natural History, Nature Reserves, Wetlands, Wildlife

Bullfinch! Winter Walk Hits Target

Winter has definitely set in. The spinach beet in my garden was all frozen, the air at -3 Celsius and the ground presumably rather colder under a clear night sky. Fearing it might all be lost, I picked some and went out to see what there might be today down at Wraysbury Lakes.

Almost the first thing I saw was a bulky little finch high in a waterside willow. It called ‘deu’ quite loudly, fidgeted about and flew before I could focus on it. Still, there was no doubt it was a Bullfinch: the call, its shape, its solitary habits, and its shyness all pointing the same way. It is never an easy bird to see, even where it is resident (it is regularly ringed at Wraysbury). Leafless trees and the rising energy of the coming breeding season provide one of the few opportunities to catch a glimpse of this less well known finch.

At first sight there seemed to be no birds out on the lake. Finding a small illicit patch cleared by a fisherman I set up the telescope and looked about. A Pochard or two; some Tufted Duck and Coot; a male Goldeneye… but the Smew and Goosander of a week or two ago were nowhere to be seen. The old truth is that you  never know what you’ll see: but it’s often a delightful surprise, and almost always energizing to be out in nature.

I walked on and looked about again: some rather white ducks caught my eye in the distance. Two male Goldeneye,  each with a female in tow. The males threw their heads forward a few times, pretended to preen; one threw his head back and forth, then lowered his head and stretched it out and in. His female swam after him, her head resting on her back as if she were asleep! But she was certainly watching the display, and swimming to keep up a few lengths behind.

A loud squawk betrayed a Heron; it flapped out of cover at the end of the lake and landed on the bank behind the ducks. A few Mallard panicked from the water below me; a Moorhen briefly took flight.

Away from the lake, a few Robin and Dunnock hopped in and out of the bushes. A solitary Fieldfare or two gave their chack-chack call from the hawthorns, watchful and flighty. Another Bullfinch calling, this time atop a bare hawthorn bush – or maybe the same bird, half a mile on – and again I couldn’t get binoculars on to it, despite my stealthiest movements: it had surely seen me at once, and just took a few seconds to decide when to flee.

A Kestrel hovered beyond the tall poplars: no Buzzards or Red Kites today, but really the Kestrel feels almost more special than them, its numbers declining across Britain.

A few Jackdaws, Carrion Crows and Wood Pigeons on the horses’ hill; some Fieldfares in the trees, with a single Redwing; a Stock Dove flying low.