Whitethroat: back from the brink

It seems that warblers come back to us in phases; first the chiffchaff, then the willow warblers, the blackcap next, and then, in late April, the whitethroat (Sylvia communis). As I wander the hills of the Purbeck coast and the ridge these, and their close cousin the lesser whitethroat, can often be heard but not always seen on scrub, gorse, hedgerows and bramble. Their ‘song’ is a rasping, vigorous, rambling, continuous chatter and this is the best way to tell them from the ‘lesser’ which has more pattern to its song, a bit like a chaffinch with a sore throat! To tell them apart visually you need a good look. The ‘lesser’ has a greyer back rather than brown, the underside is white rather than buff and the face has a dark grey ‘mask’ around the eyes. The whitethroat is not as common as it once was. In the 1960s their population was steadily increasing and then disaster struck in the spring of 1970. In their migration passage back they cross the Sahara desert and that year the timing of that journey coincided with strong winds and severe dust storms in the desert and countless birds were lost. The numbers that made it back were a small fraction of previous years population and they remained quite scarce for some years but gradually they do seem to have recovered. It just shows what a dangerous and exhausting strategy migration is but it must work or they would not do it.

Guillemot: all at sea

Migration is not just about birds leaving us for Africa in autumn and returning to us in spring. As amazing as those journeys are for swallows, warblers, terns and others, remember also our sea birds. They do not leave our shores to fly to Africa, they spend the winter months flying around the oceans. It is only with the coming of GPS tracking systems that we are beginning to understand the migration of our sea birds by attaching these devices to them .  After spending the winter far away at sea the guillemot (Uria aalge) returns to the cliffs of Durlston and Portland Bill for the breeding season. Between March and the end of July is the best time to look out from the cliff tops where you can often see rafts of these birds floating below you in seemingly in straight lines! About two hundred pairs nest at Durlston with more at Portland. The numbers have been declining and are down about 35% in less than 10 years which is worrying. Dwindling fish stocks and severe winter storms in our changing climate seem to be the main issues along with, of course, pollution of our seas with oil and plastics. The guillemot is a member of the auk family, its cousins the razorbill and the puffin also nest on the Dorset coast but in much smaller numbers. The guillemot is easy to tell apart from the other two because of its chocolate brown head and back with white front and that pointed beak.

 

Willow warbler: the sound of music

To me spring has milestones; as you pass each milestone so summer gets closer until you suddenly realise summer has arrived! The first milestone is the first chiffchaff singing, then the first swallow over head, then comes hearing the musical notes of the willow warbler (Phylloscopus trochilus), often in the second week in April. Bird song is not normally like human made music but the closest to it must be the song of the willow warbler as it enthusiastically sings its phrase of descending notes down its preferred scale, there is nothing quite like it elsewhere in the bird kingdom in my opinion. Unless you have one in the hand (having been caught whilst ringing) I defy anyone to confidently tell the willow warbler from the chiffchaff by plumage alone. They are so very alike in appearance and have similar habitat preferences. It is not a problem distinguishing between them in spring because, having just arrived back from their wintering quarters in Africa, the males of both species are in good voice and establishing territories. The willow warbler’s lovely, cascading song phrase is in stark contrast to the continual, monotonous repetition of two notes offered by the chiffchaff. Once the singing ends, however, the problems with identification start and many an observation has to be put down as a ‘willow-chiff’ and remain undetermined.

Common tern: the sea swallow

We think of summer migrants to Britain as being swallows, martins and warblers; generally small insect eaters. This is not the case as the tern family clearly illustrate as they fly south for the winter returning to us in spring to nest when our warmer seas are (hopefully) teaming with small fish. The most numerous tern in Dorset is the common tern (Sterna hirundo). They nest on the lagoon on Brownsea as well as at Lodmoor and Abbotsbury.  It is easy to distinguish the common tern from the sandwich tern that also nests on Brownsea because it is smaller, has a red bill and lacks the sandwich tern’s scruffy hair cut. It is much harder to tell the common tern from the Arctic tern which does not a black tip to its bill, otherwise they are virtually identical. During the migration season both species pass through Dorset and often the exact identity is unknown and they are then informally called comic tern’s, honestly, no joke!  The common tern is known as the sea swallow, not just because it migrates like the swallow but because of its pronounced forked tail and swift flight. They can be seen along our shores diving in to the sea after sand eels which are their staple diet. Sand eels are actually small silver coloured fish, not eels.

Swallow: one may not make a summer but it makes my spring!

One swallow (Hirundo rustica) does not make a summer but at least seeing the first one each year does constitute a further sign that spring is with us. It is a turning point in the calendar; after not seeing them for six months or so suddenly there they are! Just where did they come from? I photographed this one at Radipole Lake on the 25th March 2010 and what surprised me was actually seeing one in a tree! I am sure I had never seen this before. Looking at it, a tired, hungry little chap it was obvious he was happy to perch anywhere just to give his wings a rest. Despite a small group of people gathering under the tree for a look he had just had enough and wanted a breather! I is easy to overlook the enormous effort it must take for that tiny creature to fly all that all way to Africa each autumn and then fly all the way back again in spring. No wonder this one wanted a rest. Although they said in the RSPB visitor centre at Radipole that they usually get swallows in Mid March I usually reckon to see them first week in April as I think that is peak time for these returning migrants. For me this one was very special. I hope he had a long and happy summer, had many fledglings, had a safe journey back south and that he was able to make the trip many more times in subsequent years.

Chiffchaff: chuffed to hear the chiffchaff

I usually reckon to hear my first chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) on, or just after, the 15th March each year; they are suddenly there in the bare branches of the trees calling their repetitive “chiff-chaff-chiff-chaff “song. I am always pretty chuffed when I first hear them as they are one of the heralds of spring for me but after a while they are quickly taken for granted and I look for ‘more interesting’ things! The chiffchaff is usually back here a good three weeks or so before its close cousin, the willow warbler. The two are virtually indistinguishable in appearance up in the tree tops and it is through their songs that one can confidently tell them apart. Often heard but not always seen, the chiffchaff can be difficult to track down and photograph as it is continually on the move amongst the branches. It is obviously easier to do it early in the spring before the leaves appear on the trees. Despite generally being a migrant species wintering in Africa you may see a chiffchaff during the winter months and it was once thought that some birds just decided not to head south in the autumn but ringing has shown that our winter birds are generally migrants from colder parts of Europe who decide that Dorset is warm enough for them and heading even further south is not worth the effort.

Wheatear: it wont stay here

During the spring thousands and thousands of birds pass through Dorset as they return from the far south to their breeding grounds across the United Kingdom. Many go unseen, they do not stop as there is an urgency and a drive to get ‘home’. The autumn is a little different, many stop off here for a final meal before setting off across the Channel on their long journey to their winter quarters. One of the first to arrive in spring is the wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) and from mid-March and into April it is not unusual to find one along the coast of Dorset or on high ground across the county. The wheatear will not stay here though, it is a common bird in the uplands of Wales, northern England and throughout Scotland and it soon continues on its journey back home. It is a distinctive bird in appearance, an upright stance and about the size of a startling but the most obvious feature is its white rear that cannot be missed when it is in flight and it is what probably gives it its name – white rear = wheatear! It is often seen standing on rocks and boulders surveying the surrounding grassy areas for likely insects to eat.

Blackcap: is it coming or going?

It may not be a common sight but a blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) in gardens in winter is certainly not unusual. Now to me the blackcap is a welcome summer visitor to our woodlands and hedgerows. Its lovely, intense, warbling song is one of the highlights of spring each year. Frequently the song will be heard but the bird will be difficult to spot as it often sings from the among leaf canopy; a real poor man’s nightingale! It is also a bit of a fidget and keeps moving around! However, this is not the only side of the blackcap as this picture taken on our garden bird feeders clearly shows! We usually get a least one blackcap visit our garden each winter but I just said that the blackcap is a summer visitor so what is it doing turning up in a Dorset garden in winter? When I started ‘birding’ nearly forty years ago people were puzzled as to why most blackcaps went south in the autumn but a few stayed behind. Nowadays our knowledge is so much more developed and, thanks to ringing, we now know that these wintering birds are not the same ones that spend the summer here. These are birds from much farther north in Europe and for them the long winter trip south is to us here in southern England. So, as our wintering blackcaps leave us in spring to return north the summer migrants are coming back to our shores and from mid-April we have the joy of seeing and hearing them in our countryside.

Black Redstart: starting off back home

As the spring equinox approaches we begin to anticipate the return to our shores of birds that left us the previous autumn to spend the winter in a warmer climate. By April that stream of migrant birds coming in off the sea each day is in full flow as they return for the breeding season. What we often forget is that there is an exodus from here going on at the same time as birds that came here for the winter return to their summer quarters. One such species that does just that is the black redstart (Phoenicurus ochruros) which will heads south east to central Europe, the opposite direction to many other species! The black redstart is very common in central and southern Europe where it is about as common as our robin. Originally a cliff dweller from the Alpine region they are now widespread around human habitation and even occur in large steel works and car production plants in Germany. In Dorset we usually get a half a dozen each winter, frequently at Durlston near Swanage and Nothe Fort in Weymouth but they have also been seen around the Dorset County Hospital in Dorchester and around B&Q in Poole. I have to ask why they leave the beautiful county of Dorset to go a steel works in Germany for the summer? Not my preference I have to say!

Greenshank: the nebulous plover

A slightly up-turned, greenish, probing beak and pale green legs are good guides to identification here. The greenshank (Tringa nebularia) is aptly named. I think it is a very elegant bird and it is one of my favourite waders. It is a relative of the redshank, similar in size but paler and mottled, in fact it is a fairly nebulous bird so perhaps that where ‘nebularia’ comes from? It is far less common than its cousin too. Some years we get hardly any, other years quite a few. Indeed, there were ten in front of the hide on Brownsea when we were there recently. It is also interesting for a wader in that it will catch small fish and crustaceans whereas most waders only probe the mud for food. The greenshank breeds in northern Europe and Asia on dry moorland and in boggy areas in the Arctic tundra. However, its winter migration destinations can vary from the the south coast of England to the south coast of Africa! Why some travel so far and others stay nearer home is a mystery. It probably does explain why the numbers we see in Dorset vary each year. Around Poole harbour is undoubtedly the most likely place to find them and smaller number crop up in Christchurch harbour.