Tag Archives: Willow Warbler

Mayfly, Damselfly hatch; 5 Warblers!

14 May 2016 Ian Alexander

It was a lovely sunny walk today, spring in everything but temperature, in a fresh Northerly wind.

I was greeted at Wraysbury Lakes by a jumble of music, a loud and vigorous Garden Warbler competing with an even louder Song Thrush to pour out rich fluty notes in a confusing stream.

Suddenly the air is full of rising Mayflies with their long triple tails. The masses of Comfrey and Nettles are dotted with the iridescent blue of Banded Demoiselles, like slender dragonflies, and the clear green of the females. Also quite a few Azure Damselflies, the males brilliant blue with little cup markings at the base of their abdomens (Segment 2), the females green with little ‘Mercury’ markings in the same place. I think I saw a slender Sawfly, too; and quite a few bumblebees visiting the Comfrey. Just two butterflies, a Speckled Wood and a battered Red Admiral.

On the lake, a pair of Canada Geese watchfully escorting their fluffy line of chicks.

Further along, Blackcap, Robin, Blackbird; then a patch of Chiffchaffs; more Garden Warblers, then a few Whitethroats, making extraordinary wheezing and squeaking anxiety calls, and one in song flight; a little flock of Goldfinches; a few Willow Warblers, deep in the scrub, my first of the year. The May blossom is on time, the Hawthorns heavy with their white dresses. In clearings, Bugle, Forget-me-nots and Cowslips; a Red Campion.

In the sky, a Kestrel; a dozen Jackdaws; a Heron and a Cormorant; more surprisingly, a pair of Shelduck, rather big, rather white, with black wingtips and a brickred band across their chests. Four Swifts wheel past, race low over the hill.

Among the mares with their foals, a dozen Starlings making their rasping calls, feeding their newly-fledged young on the ground in the open or watching from the bushes; a French (Red-Legged) Partridge running rather than flying; a hen Pheasant flying in, her broad wings heavily loaded like the wide-bodied jets that roar overhead.

It’s utterly different from the heat earlier in the week, when I was down in Wiltshire, watching a Kingfisher flash along the river in Bradford-on-Avon, a Heron stalking fish in the shallows, a Horseshoe Bat among the bushes at dusk.

Natural History, Nature Reserves

Moths and Warblers at Gunnersbury Triangle

16 April 2015 Ian Alexander

The dawn chorus at the reserve revealed two singing Blackcaps: one was alternately feeding on newly-emerged Cherry buds, presumably eating insect larvae, and giving short bursts of song or subsong. In a few days’ time the leaves will make such easy observation much less likely. There were two singing Chiffchaffs, one of them in full view in a Birch just coming into leaf above the main pond; and a Willow Warbler which I first heard yesterday near the picnic meadow.

A party of newly-fledged Great Tits blundered about the bushes on the steps by the main pond, and a Wren gave me a fine view at the ‘mangrove swamp’, which is fast drying up. The newly-dug extension to the seasonal pond has filled with water and is in fact deeper than the rest of the pond, probably a useful variation in depth.

Inspecting the Moth Trap at Gunnersbury Triangle

Up at the hut, the moth trap was being opened after a night’s work. Inside were some Pug moths, probably Brindled Pugs, and a much larger Noctuid moth, an Early Grey.

Also seen were Jay, Magpie, Carrion Crow, Wood Pigeon, singing Dunnock, Blackbird, Robin, Mallard. A Wren was carrying food to its nest near the ramp.

Conservation, Natural History, Nature Reserves, Wetlands

Demoiselles and Warblers beautiful at Wraysbury Lakes

8 June 2014 Ian Alexander

Banded Demoiselle Female with Half-Open Wings

I had a beautiful, peaceful, sunny summer walk down at Wraysbury Lakes. Away from the roar of the traffic and the enormous queues brought on by roadworks and summer weekend commuting, I was surrounded by fluttering, glittering, shimmering Banded Demoiselle males, and on the vegetation also the gloriously iridescent green females, their clear green wings like fine lace dress trimmings to accompany their dazzling emerald-jewelled and enamelled bodies.

As well, Common Blue damselflies basked in the sun; a few pairs in cop carried out their incredibly complicated sex act, all claspers (male tail to female neck, female tail to male belly with its spermatophore and secondary sexual organs, forming the startling ‘heart’ or ‘wheel’, in which the pair can, at a pinch, fly like synchronised swimmers.

At first I thought there were no warblers about, but gradually little bursts of song punctuated the afternoon, and by the end I had heard six warbler species, and good binocular views of three of them (Garden Warbler, Whitethroat and Willow Warbler).

There were some handsome Ichneumons about, but perhaps the insect I was most surprised to see was a Small Tortoiseshell butterfly. When I was a boy these were so common as to be unremarkable – as were House Sparrows, Starlings and Yellowhammers. It is almost a shock to discover that seeing just one is now a rare treat: more nostalgic than pleasurable, perhaps. Much work needs to be done on landscape-scale and farmland conservation to bring back our common butterflies.

Natural History, Nature Reserves, Wildlife

Mayflies Rising!

12 May 2014 Ian Alexander

May is the fastest time of Nature’s year. What a difference a few days make! Last time at Wraysbury, a few sluggish mayflies sitting around as if waiting for something to happen in a one horse town.

Well, today it’s happening. In places, the sky is filled with rising mayflies: a few mating, most alone. Here and there, some repeatedly dance up, and a few seconds later, down; but most just climb, and fly about, seeming frail on their large wings, their triple tail streamers hanging below them: it’s worth zooming in on the picture. Even better, here’s a short video clip. The soundtrack combines an airliner taking off and a Blackcap singing.

One of the glories of summer by water is the brilliant turquoise and green iridescence of the male Banded Demoiselle – the so-called band is actually the appearance of flickering of the wings, the dark spot on each of the four wings giving a hard-to-describe semblance of a sparkling blue jewel in flight, with bands of colour too fast and changeable for the eye to understand. But he’s pretty fine at rest, too.

Common Blue, Bluetail, and Red-eyed Damselflies have all now emerged, the Red-eyed being the scarcest of the three, seemingly.

Soldier Beetle, Cantharis rustica on Cow Parsley

On the Cow Parsley were, as well as the damsels, two cantharid Soldier Beetles, Cantharis rustica or a close relative. Another enormous cloud of rising mayflies, and suddenly behind them a pair of Hobbies, hawking for insects – whether damselflies or even mayflies is impossible to tell. One comes close, wheels away on scything wings as it sees me.

A Silver-Ground Carpet Moth, Xanthorhoe montanata, flutters weakly past me among the Hawthorn bushes and flops onto the grass. Garden Warblers sing, a Whitethroat rasps in its songflight. A Treecreeper sings its little ditty sweetly from near the river.

On the hill, three Greylag and two Egyptian Geese form a peaceful flock. Stock Doves and a mixed flock of Crows and Jackdaws rise from the grass. A Song Thrush gives a marvellous solo recital near the road.

Natural History, Nature Reserves, Wetlands, Wildlife

Mayflies, May Blossom… yes, it’s May at Wraysbury Lakes

9 May 2014 Ian Alexander

The sun is shining … in between the showers. Mayflies are resting all over the plants near the river. May blossom makes a bright show on every hawthorn bush. Yes, it’s May down at Wraysbury Lakes. The energetic breeze gives a cool feel, but out of the wind it’s very pleasant. Enjoying the brisk airflow are at least four Common Terns over the lakes and overhead; a few Swallows; and a small number of Swifts, newly arrived in the last few days, racing down to the water surface to catch flies — not the mayflies, which are active mainly at night. The warblers which are definitely about are hard to hear for the wind in the trees, but I caught snatches of Chiffchaff, Blackcap, many Whitethroats, plenty of Garden Warbler, a Willow Warbler, three Song Thrushes and a Blackbird, not to mention Robins and Wrens. A Cormorant lumbered past, climbing with effort, its jizz very much like that of the Boeing 747s lumbering heavily into the air.

There are some pale mayflies, with neither antennae nor the 3 tails: maybe these have broken off in the vegetation.

Beautifully iridescent green-bronze female Banded Demoiselle — Beautifully iridescent green-bronze: a female Banded Demoiselle

Also new today are quantities of damselflies: there are many brilliant iridescent blue male Banded Demoiselles, with their beautifully clear green-bronze females. This one seemed definitely to be watching me attentively. Two small blue species have also emerged, Blue-Tailed Damselfly and Common Blue Damselfly.

Over the lake, a long-winged falcon swooped at speed: I wondered for a moment if I had a Cuckoo, but the moustache and white face markings showed it was a Hobby, arrived from Africa in pursuit of the Swifts, and perhaps hunting damselflies as easier prey in this place. The low number of Swifts is worrying; they have been declining for years, as building renovation removes their old nest-holes, and increased human population pressure in Africa threatens them there too.

This small grasshopper, missing an antenna, is my first of the year.

Further along, the bare damp area that often has teasels is bright yellow with clumps of a yellow Brassica that has clasping leaves like wild turnip (or cultivated swede). There’s a definite cabbagey smell. A Whitethroat, caught out in the open, makes a dash for a bush.

Wildlife

Ian Alexander’s Amazing Audio Guide to British Warblers

2 May 2014 Ian Alexander

Today I noted down in my nature diary “Sedge – Cetti’s – Blackcap – Chiffchaff – Whitethroat.” I didn’t see any of them: but I’m sure all of them were there, because I heard them unambiguously.

If you think that would be a nice thing to do, but utterly impossible for you, being a city-dweller with cloth ears, let me reassure you: it’s really not difficult. Have you ever been in a noisy party where someone suddenly said your name? You picked out the sound right away, and looked straight at where it came from, didn’t you. In other words, your hearing, and the auditory processing part of your brain, is perfectly adapted to picking out sound signatures from a jumble of other stuff – engineers call it noise, and who are we to disagree – without even thinking about it. It’s a wonderful ability, and it has obvious survival value.

So, to warblers. A lot of small, inconspicuous LBBs (yeah, little brown birds) that mainly lurk about deep inside bushes: but with one sharply distinguishing feature – you guessed it, their song. Each species takes good care to avoid hybridising with other species, probably producing uselessly infertile offspring, by announcing its identity to all and sundry. Males tell other males to push off; and they tell females where they are, what species they are, and (so I’m told) how wonderfully fit they are, just by singing in what the females judge is the right way.

So what is the right way? How, in other words, do these warblers sound? Ok, I lied about the audio, there’s no tape or what have you here. But, in simple words, here’s how to tell them apart.

Let’s start with the easiest one. The Chiffchaff just says his name, over and over and over again. Chiff-chaff-chiff-chaff-chiff-chaff… It’s a fairly high, lisping sort of song on, yes, exactly two notes. If you’re a registered European you may prefer to call it Zilp-zalp-zilp-zalp-zilp-zalp…. — it’s the same thing. The call is pretty loud and clear; if you know the Great Tit’s insistent Teacher-Teacher-Teacher call from park or garden, well, it’s not as harsh as that. The Chiffchaff can be heard almost anywhere there are a good number of trees and bushes; there are plenty in parks and by the river.

The warbler that looks almost exactly like the Chiffchaff is the Willow Warbler. It doesn’t frequent willows. It seems to be getting scarcer, and it likes more secluded bushy areas than the Chiffchaff. The song is a unique series of descending phrases, lisping from high to low like a pianist carefully practising his scales every morning: swieeuo(high)-swieeuo-swieeuo-swieeuo-swieeuo-swieeuo(low). It never varies.

The Blackcap is one of the commonest of our warblers. It sings from any reasonably thick patch of bushes: you need a pretty large garden to get Blackcaps, but they’re in every park and reserve. It’s a bit tricky to describe the Blackcap’s song, because he always improvises, like a jazz musician doing a gig. However, he is a bit of an opera meister, a tenor constantly worrying about his voice. So he goes like this: Ahem. La, la. Do re mi fa. Ahem. Hrrm. La la la. Ah, let me see. Yes. Aaaaaa–La Dolce Vita — Voce di Tenore – si – Aaaaaa! In short, the Blackcap starts rather hesitantly, stumbles a bit, warms up, sings a few fine fluty notes — and stops abruptly. Another way of putting it is the traditional “Blackcap’s brief”, but he’s not always quite that short.

The singer you might confuse with the Blackcap is the Garden Warbler. He’s distinctly less common, and requires more green space, but you have a good chance of hearing him in May. The Garden Warbler’s song is immediately recognisable as rather good. Even if you don’t bother with classical music much, you can at once hear that this is someone with a well-trained voice, perfectly modulated, even, rich, rapid, full of notes, expressive. I don’t want to spoil this by saying that the voice doesn’t do terribly much, but it’s true: the Garden Warbler’s song is always somewhat of a piece. It can go on for quite a while, sometimes tens of seconds without a break (excellent breath control), but there are no sudden leaps, no sharp highs or lows, no discordant notes. It’s Radio 3 not trying too hard in between major concerts.

Quite the opposite is the Sedge Warbler. I can give you a pretty sharp clue as to where you’ll find him singing: in a patch of reeds, certainly near water. He doesn’t need much room: at the Wetland Centre, one sings from a tiny reedbed right in front of a hide, and it’s amusing to watch people trying to locate him even as he sings his heart out. The Sedge Warbler’s song is REALLY discordant. Think modern classical and then some. Schoenberg and Cage rolled into one. Charr-charr-charr (so far so good) SQUEAK Chirp Weeaaiourgh – SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK chirp chirp charr-charr-charr- getting used to this – charr-charr-charr SQUEAK hic! SQUAWK SQUNK got you there charr-charr-charr… and so on for ages. I promise you’ll recognise him straight away.

If we’re into scratchy, the Whitethroat is the start. He’s a beautiful bird and if you’re quiet and come out early before the hordes you’re quite likely to see him atop a tall thorn bush, singing at the top of his voice. He prefers rather isolated bushes in patches of scruffy scrubland. He is reddish brown with a conspicuous fluffy white throat, like an elegant eighteenth-century Mr Darcy with a tailcoat and a white silk neckerchief. Unfortunately for the romantic appearance, Mr D really can’t sing too well, nor for very long. Squeaky-squawky-scritch-scratch. Scrape. Scritchy-scratchy. Honestly, that’s about it. Occasionally if you’re very lucky you get a little bit of tune, but mostly there aren’t many musical notes in it at all.

OK, the Cetti’s. He isn’t nearly as Italian as his name; in fact, you can find him in reedbeds and beside lakes pretty much all year. He is a real skulker, so I hardly need to describe him, other than to say he sings from quite low down in thick waterside bushes. If you see him at all, it will be a quick glimpse of a medium-dark brown bird with a rounded tail, vanishing into a bush. To compensate, he has a REALLY LOUD song with the pattern Witchipitipit, Witchipitipit. Well, that’s the polite phonetic version. If I remember rightly, it was Simon Barnes in his magnificently naughty How to be a bad birdwatcher (Short Books, 2004; Amazon.com Amazon.co.uk) who voiced the Cetti’s as Me! Cetti’s! If you don’t like it, you can Fuck Off! You’ll definitely recognise him when you hear him, or he’ll nut you one. And once you know his song, you’ll be surprised how widespread he is.

I could do the Lesser Whitethroat for you too, and the Reed Warbler, but I expect you’ve had quite enough for one go. But feel free to ask me if you’re curious.

Natural History, Nature Reserves

A Six Warbler Walk… First of the Year

14 April 2014 Ian Alexander

A high pressure zone is bringing bright and mainly sunny weather to Britain, but as it’s not overhead it is also bringing quite a cold breeze. Down at Wraysbury Lakes, all the winter ducks have left, with just Tufted, Mallard and a pair of Gadwall remaining. Two Great Crested Grebes wandered around each other, not quite getting into a courtship dance.

Things were more exciting on the birdsong front. Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs sang sweetly all over. A Cetti’s sang very loud, very close by the lakeside as always, first in front … I stalked up very quietly … and then behind me. Invisible, the skulker. In the thicker scrub, several Whitethroats sang their scratchy short song, the first this year; and at least three Willow Warblers sang their descending scales, also the first of the year. And, briefly, one Garden Warbler gave me a burst of his even, musical tunefulness. There’s often a Sedge Warbler near the river but not apparently today. More song came from the Robins, a Song Thrush, and a Chaffinch or two.

Overhead, a Grey Heron circled upwards towards a Boeing 747-400 and did its best to resemble a soaring stork or crane, quite impressive really with broad, downcurved wings rather like one of those air-filled kites made only of light cloth.

A small patch of St George’s Mushrooms nestled among the Potentilla leaves by the path; it’s about the only edible mushroom at this time of year, but I don’t pick them, both for conservation reasons and because I’m not keen on their rather mealy taste.

The first Speckled Wood butterflies of the year are in evidence; they are fiercely territorial already, chasing off numerous Peacock butterflies. A few Green-Veined Whites settled, frail and shy, on the thicker herbs.

Great patches, almost carpets of Ground Ivy, which sounds a lowly herb, but looks glorious among the low-cropped grass, shining in the sunshine. It’s in the Labiate or Mint family, and has pretty rather short toothed leaves, purple-tinged, with attractive blue lipped flowers that are really quite orchid-like if you ignore their long tubes.

ObsessedByNature