Great spots

Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopus major)

Occasionally, we get an unexpected visitor to our feeders. For a while, it was a wary female Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopus major) who snuck in for a quick nibble of sunflower seeds or fat balls every now and then. Her all-black nape identified her as a female; a male would have had a small red patch on the back of his neck. We know there is at least one breeding pair in the neighbourhood, as we regularly see them flying back and forth over the garden, and hear their challenges ringing from the strip of Holm Oaks along a nearby roadway. But we don't often get to see them in the garden itself – too few trees, presumably! 

Great Spots are common and widespread from southern England to southern Scotland, and have recently colonised several areas in Ireland. Unlike the ant-eating Green Woodpecker, they are almost exclusively arboreal, spending little (if any) time on the ground. Their strong claws and stiff tail feathers help them to prop themselves up as they hitch their way up and down tree trunks and branches. The broad white wing stripe and bright red undertail help to separate them from the smaller (but also black and white) Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, which lacks the stripe and the red undertail. Sadly, Lesser Spots are now very rare in the U.K. and would certainly be extremely unlikely in our garden. Like all woodpeckers, Great Spots feed primarily on insects, but will also eat some seeds, particularly conifer seeds. They're also know to take bird eggs and nestlings.

Leggy #2

Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea)

Our little pond has brought in a couple of unexpected visitors in the past week, including this wary immature Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea). I first saw it from an upstairs window, but it flapped off as soon as it spotted me. Fortunately, it returned a few days later and Mike was able to snap its picture (while hiding behind some bushes along the drive). We're not sure what it's finding at this time of the year, but it's been back three or four times now, so there must be something tasty visible in there. These herons feed mostly on fish, but will also take newts, frogs, toads, small birds and small mammals. Grey Herons are common and widespread residents, both at the coast (which is only a few hundred metres from here) and in freshwater wet spots across the UK. Elsewhere, they're found across temperate Europe and Asia, and down into Africa. Youngsters like this one (identifiable by its lack of a black cap and the black on its bill) are more likely than adults to show up at garden ponds. We're happy to see it – but hoping that it's not clearing out all our Smooth Newts!

Taking stock

Stock Dove (Columba oenas)

In the latter part of the spring, we moved a couple of our seed feeders from their former position outside the office windows to a new spot in the John Downie crabapple visible from our kitchen window, somewhat further away from the house. A few of our more wary visitors – Jackdaws and Common Pheasants among them – were delighted. And it wasn't long before we spotted a new addition to our "IN the yard" list: a pair of Stock Doves. These quickly became regular visitors, and they've continued to frequent the short-grass areas of the garden even after the seed feeders were retired for the summer. Though similar in size and colouration to the feral Rock Dove (i.e. the feral pigeon), they can be distinguished by their dark eyes, their red and yellow bills, and their lack of a pale rump patch. Typically found along woodland edges and in parkland during the breeding season across much of the UK, they're only rarely seen in gardens. In the winter, they regularly gather in small flocks in farmland. Unusually for pigeons, they're cavity nesters. They regularly use holes in trees, but will also use cracks in cliffs (or ruins), thick poplar hedges or ivy, or even rabbit warrens. Stock Doves are currently classed as "amber" (i.e. moderately threatened) on the UK's list of birds of conservation concern, so it's a real treat to add them to our list.

Swallows

Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica)

If one swallow doesn't make a summer, how about two or three or four? This pair of Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica) youngsters spent some time resting on our phone wire on a recent afternoon, keeping a watchful eye on mum and dad (and the occasional passing Herring Gull) and vigorously preening. It's a popular wire with swallows; they often rest there. Sadly, they haven't yet nested in the garden, despite the platform installed especially for them. Our garden provides plenty of tasty little morsels though, so we regularly see them over the property. Swallows are summer visitors to the British Isles, arriving as early as March (though more often April) and leaving as late as October. They are the world's most widespread swallow, found for at least part of the year on every continent except Antarctica. In the UK, it occurs everywhere except the Scottish highlands. Their long tail streamers (shorter on youngsters) and rusty-orange throats help to distinguish them from other hirundines in the UK.

Swallow numbers can vary considerably from year to year. Cold, wet springs, like the one we had this year, can cause insect populations to collapse, which leads to a lack of food for both adults and nestlings. The RSPB says climate change is causing serious food and water problems on Barn Swallow wintering grounds and migration routes as well, with birds often returning to their breeding grounds in poor condition. Many are laying fewer eggs than they used to. Most European birds cross the Sahara to reach their wintering grounds in sub-Saharan Africa, and that desert grows larger every year. This makes it increasingly difficult for the birds to successfully cross it. Fingers crossed these two and their parents make it back next summer!

Songster

Song Thrush (Turdus philomelos)

These days, we're being regularly serenaded by our local Song Thrushes (Turdus philomelos). They start about 4:00 in the morning (if not earlier) and are still singing at 9:30 in the evening. We don't mind much, because it's the sound of summer. The song reminds us a bit of that of North America's Northern Mockingbird; it's quite varied, with each phrase repeated multiple times before the bird switches to another phrase. (To hear the song, click on the link below; I recorded a male singing near the house last month.) The spotty-breasted thrushes often sit high atop a treetop or bush to belt out their song. This is one of the UK's more widespread resident species, found everywhere but the highest peaks in Scotland. That said, it's declining fairly precipitously in both rural and urban environments (a more than 50% drop), so we're happy to have an apparently healthy local population here.

Song Thrushes build mud-lined cup nests and lay 4-5 speckled blue eggs. We haven't found a nest yet, though we think one pair may be raising a brood in one of the laurel bushes at the bottom of the garden. In a good season, a pair may successfully raise as many as three broods! The birds are omnivores, with snails among their favourite meals; that definitely makes them popular with gardeners across the western Palearctic. The birds use stone "anvils" to break open snails' shells – and no, we haven't found an anvil yet, either. The Song Thrush is the smaller of the UK's two spotty-breasted thrushes; its dark spots are shaped like arrowheads rather than being round, like those of the Mistle Thrush (Turdus viscivorus). It's smaller and browner than the Mistle Thrush too. Our birds here are resident, but those elsewhere in northern Europe are primarily migrants. We see an influx of them in the fall and winter, with some staying and others continuing on to Africa. Domestic cats continue to be a major problem for Song Thrushes. Sadly, we've lost at least one to neighbourhood pets prowling in our garden. But their biggest problem is loss of habitat, particularly in areas of intensive farming. They need hedgerows or woodland in which to breed (both ripped out by many farmers) and good supplies of snails and earthworms to eat (both suppressed by the heavy use of pesticides). We're hoping ours continue to find what they need here.

Megan Edwards Crewe · Song Thrush - Norfolk UK

Quack

Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos)

When we lost several of our trees to the big windstorm last autumn, Mike took the opportunity to finally put in the pond he's been talking about for years. It's a reasonably big one, particularly considering that he dug it out by hand – it's roughly 7ft x 10ft (2m x 3.5m) and ranges in depth from a few inches to nearly two feet. The water has already attracted plenty of wildlife, most of it small and six-legged. Yesterday, it attracted something considerably larger: when we went out before supper to do some path mowing, we found a pair of Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) sizing up the scenery. Apparently they liked what they saw. After a bit of preening and splashing around, they waddled around the garden checking out various flower beds and corners. Eventually, Mrs. Mallard took a snooze right in the middle of one of the paths, while her mate stood wary guard. They even hung around while Mike mowed along the other side of the garden, shuffling a few feet at a time as he edged closer. They really didn't want to leave, but finally had enough of the noisy machine. We can't decide whether or not to hope they'll be back. We'd love it if they gobbled up some of the burgeoning algal mat, but we're worried they might munch our trio of Smooth Newts as well.

Mallards are probably among the UK's best-known birds, and certainly the most widely-known of the ducks. They're pretty much ubiquitous across the islands, found in ponds, lakes, broads, quags and puddles everywhere but Scotland's highest peaks. They pair up in late autumn, staying together until the female has laid her eggs. This she does sometime between mid-March and the end of July, laying one egg every other day until she has her full clutch of roughly 12. In total, they'll weigh almost half as much as she does! Well before the young have hatched, the male will go off to moult, leaving the female to raise the ducklings on her own. She too will moult as she raises her brood, losing her ability to fly for a few weeks as she does so. Maybe we'll see them again in the garden before that happens.

Bramble Finch

Brambling (Fringilla montifringilla), male

This winter, we've revelled in the presence of a small group of these handsome birds, which have spent the past few months nibbling the seeds of Buddleia bushes in the back garden. They're Bramblings (Fringilla montifringilla), finches that spend the winter here in Great Britain (and widely elsewhere across Europe and Asia). They'll be leaving us soon, heading back to the forests of the northern Palearctic where they breed, from Scandanavia right across to the Pacific Ocean. By the time the males get there, the rusty edges of the feathers on their heads and backs will have worn away, rendering them black-headed and black-backed. The number seen here in the UK varies wildly from year to year, depending on food supplies and weather on the continent. Some years, there can be as few as 45,000 here. Some years, there can be nearly 2 million! This was apparently a good year across the country, with birders reporting them in gardens everywhere. While they're with us, Bramblings are almost exclusively seed-eaters—reportedly particularly fond of beech mast. In the summer, on the other hand, they'll feed primarily on insects. We're sad to see them go, as they've been a bright spot in this dreary winter, but we also know that their departure is a sign of impending spring. Yahoo!

Female

Greenfinch

Male European Greenfinch (Chloris chloris)

On a typical day, our garden is full of birds. During the spring and summer, we hear them singing before it's even light enough to see. They swarm over our bird feeders in the winter, rummage through the flowerbeds in search of food, and build their nests in the shrubs and hedges. This year, some of the main players in the nesting department were the European Greenfinches (Chloris chloris). We hosted at least two (and possibly three) pairs, one of which raised at least two (and possibly three) broods right outside our office windows. That's good to see, because UK greenfinches have faced some major declines over the past few decades, with a drop in numbers of 64% since 1997. Part of the problem is a parasite called Trichomonas gallinae, which arrived on the island in 2006 and has caused havoc ever since. Trichomonas causes infected birds to be unable to swallow, leading to their deaths. It can be transmitted between hosts through contaminated food and water. Fortunately, we've seen no signs to date of that problem here.

Our greenfinches seem fat and healthy. These stocky birds are, as their name suggests, primarily olive-greenish — though with slashes of yellow in wing and tail. Their bills are stout and pink, and their tails have a noticeable fork at the tip. In the spring, males do showy display flights over the garden, zigzagging their way around big circles, singing at the top of their lungs. During the breeding season, we regularly see pairs together, nibbling dandelion seeds on the lawn or splashing in the birdbaths. Now that their young have fledged, we're seeing greenfinches in bigger flocks, often mingling with Common Chaffinches. Hopefully, our local birds will continue to buck the declining trend of the overall population. 

Woody

Eurasian Green Woodpecker (Picus viridus) - immature

We have a pair of Eurasian Green Woodpeckers (Picus viridus) somewhere in the village; we see them bounding over periodically, and hear them even more frequently. But they're wary and flighty, rocketing out of the garden as soon as they lay eyes on us, so it was a welcome surprise to get to spend some time with this youngster as it rummaged along the driveway a few weeks ago. It was slurping up the winged ants that were emerging from some of the ant nests in the garden wall. The heavy speckling on its breast and back — and the lack of black on its face — help to identify it as a youngster. Its colouring (primarily green) and size (largest of Britain's woodpeckers) help to distinguish it from the UK's two other woodpecker species, both of which are black and white. Primarily a ground feeder, it specialises on ants, though it will eat other invertebrates, fruit and pine seeds, particularly in the winter, when ants aren't readily available. Though it does spend time in trees, it seldom pecks at wood. Primarily a bird of southern Britain, it is common in England and Wales, quite scarce in Scotland and not found in Northern Ireland. Elsewhere (as its name suggests), it is found right across Europe and into western Asia. Hopefully, we'll be seeing this one, and its parents, regularly in the future.

Unexpected

Lesser Whitethroat (Sylvia curruca)

Recent sunny mornings have found us perched on the mound that runs along one edge of our property, gazing out across the crop field on the far side of the track out to the main road. There's a reservoir and a small reedbed in that direction, and we've been keeping an eye out for migrants that might be attracted to the two. Between our place and the reservoir, there's an old hedge, with gorse and hawthorn bushes interspersed with a few maples and elders. A few weeks ago, we heard a Lesser Whitethroat (Sylvia curruca) singing from that hedgerow. He cycled back and forth from the reservoir end to the bigger oaks at the hedgerow's near end, always stopping just outside our property. That was true until one day earlier this month, when he was suddenly singing from a dead branch in the wiggly willow tree right in the middle of our garden. (He's in that tree in the photo above). He hung around for a week or so, trying to attract a mate, before apparently moving on. We haven't heard him lately.

Lesser Whitethroats are widespread summer breeders here in Britain, arriving in April and staying through September. The RSPB estimates that there are 74,000 breeding pairs across the UK. They're found across much of Eurasia, spread across habitats ranging from woodland, farmland and grassland to urban and suburban areas. They prefer scrubby areas with plenty of dense cover, particularly thorny trees and shrubs. They're generally skulkers, spending most of their time lurking in the heart of dense bushes. Fortunately, hormones are a wonderful thing, and males trying to set up territories are often (as we saw) a lot showier. When they leave us in the autumn, they head to Africa, Arabia and India for the winter.

Lesser Whitethroats look a bit like smaller, less colourful versions of the Common Whitethroat. Both males and females are greyish-brown above and creamy-grey below, lacking the rufous wings and pinkish chests of their larger cousins. Their heads are grey with darker grey on the cheek, giving them a somewhat "masked" appearance — perhaps appropriate in these days of Covid-19! Their legs are also grey (just about visible in the photo above) rather than pale pinkish, and their white outer tail feathers can be eye-catching when they fly. In spring and summer, they're primarily insectivorous; in autumn, they add berries to their diet to build up their fat reserves. To hear what our bird sounded like, click on the link below; his song is the sporadic short rattle heard five times in the recording.
 

Megan Edwards Crewe · Lesser Whitethroat

Vicar Thrush

Ring Ouzel (Turdus torquatus)

We were up early yesterday to check the moth trap, which we ran for the second time this spring. As I was gathering up my camera gear in anticipation of getting some photos, Mike came bursting in to the house. "Come quick!" he called. "It's a Rouzel!" Ring Ouzels (Turdus torquatus) are migrants here in southeastern England. This bird was on his way from wintering grounds in North Africa to breeding grounds in Scotland or northern England. On migration, Rouzels are found along the country's southern and eastern coasts, typically in areas of short grass. This fellow paused for only 15 minutes or so, flitting around in various treetops (and on the telephone wire right above our shed) and singing challenges; I guess his hormone level is high, since he's certainly not going to breed anywhere near here!

Here in the UK, Ring Ouzels breed principally in the uplands, though they do descend almost to sea level in the farthest northern stretches of Scotland. They prefer steep-sided valleys and gullies, building their nests in heather clumps, crevices, or (very occasionally) in trees. They breed from mid-April to mid-July, managing to produce two broods most years. They feed on insects and berries, keying on earthworms in the spring and juniper berries in the autumn. The RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) estimates there are some 6300 pairs of Ring Ouzels breeding in Britain — a number which earns them a "red" conservation status, meaning they're in urgent need of conservation action. Like many of the country's other upland species, this one is in pretty steep decline, with a 43% drop in their numbers over the past 40 years.

To hear what they sound like, click the link below; this is a recording I made of the bird in our garden.

Red Legs

Red-legged Partridge (Alectoris rufa)

For the past few days, a couple of Red-legged Partridges (Alectoris rufa) have been venturing into the garden. They're sticking primarily to the bare earth of the driveway, picking grit (and presumably seeds) from the ground as they go. This handsome species was introduced to East Anglia from the continent back in the late 1700s, mainly to provide a target for the hunting set. Over the ensuing centuries, they have expanded across much of lowland Britain, with the RSPB estimating that there are now some 82,000 breeding territories across the island. They remain particularly common in the east, and we see and hear them regularly in the countryside around our home. Despite the fact that it's an introduced species, the UK population has become quite important in conservation terms, because the bird is declining in its native range (France, Spain and Portugal).

Red-legs have the unusual ability to raise two simultaneous broods a year. The female lays two clutches, and she incubates one clutch while her mate incubates the other. The young are precocial, able to run about and feed themselves shortly after hatching. The pair then reunites, raising their now sizable family together. They eat primarily seeds, but also leaves and small invertebrates. If they escape the hunters' guns, they can live up to 5 years. Hopefully, we'll be seeing more of them — maybe even (if we're lucky) with some chicks in tow.

Gold

European Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis)

Among the regular visitors to our garden are good numbers of this snazzy species: the European Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis). They're fond of the seeds of many of the "weeds" dotted around the place (particularly the dandelions), and sometimes gather in big numbers to nibble grit from the driveway. They've built at least one nest that we know of in a shrub near our herb garden, and are occasional visitors to the bird feeders in the winter. According to the RSPB, many of our UK birds head south for the winter, migrating as far as Spain. However, presumably the UK birds are replaced by others from further north during the winter, because we see them year-round.

The black wings with their broad yellow stripe and white spots at the end of the wing and tail feathers are distinctive, as is that noticeably pointed pink bill. Youngsters, which we'll see in late summer, lack that bright red face. European Goldfinches are common and widespread across most of the British Isles (though missing from the highlands of Scotland) and mainland Europe, and have been introduced to Australia, New Zealand, Bolivia, Argentina, a few of the Caribbean islands and parts of the US. The British Trust for Ornithology estimates that there are nearly 1.7 million European Goldfinches across Britain in the summer. Unfortunately, their cheery songs make them popular cage birds. We'd much rather experience them as they are here — free-flying and pouring their lovely songs out into the open air.

Redbreast

When it comes to the endearing birds of Britain, there are few that can beat the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula). These are delicate little creatures, only about half the size of the American brutes given the "robin" moniker by homesick colonials. Our garden robins have been busy this summer. Their first nest failed for reasons unknown (though we suspect the neighbour's free-ranging cats may be to blame), but they successfully fledged at least a few youngsters on their second try. And now they're busy kicking those youngsters out of the area, which has led to lots of conflict and lots of singing over the past week or so.

One of the things that makes this species so well-loved is their absolute fearlessness. When we're working in the garden, they're often hovering just around our feet (or spade), waiting to see what tasty morsel we might dig up. They're widespread in Britain, with a population estimated at 6 million (!!) breeding pairs. Their somewhat melancholy songs are a regular part of our garden soundtrack, even now, when most other species have stopped singing — a welcome reminder of summer as the relative silence of winter approaches.

Cave Dweller

They're fledged! One of our local wren pairs has clearly been successful with at least one brood this summer, as a frazzled adult and five youngsters spent a fair bit of time in our garden this past Sunday. The fledglings, already quite good fliers, were bouncing through the brush pile stacked in the fire pit, rummaging among the thistles which are starting to die back in the wilder part of the garden, and flitting through the lower branches of some of the bigger shrubs. And the fledglings' high-pitched begging calls were both piercing and continual! Wrens (known formally as Eurasian Wrens or Troglodytes troglodytes) are common and widespread in the British Isles, found in virtually every habitat. That said, the Old World is surprisingly depauperate in the wren department. For comparison, there have been 32 species of wren recorded in Mexico, including 11 endemics found only in that country; there is one species of wren in all of Europe and Asia!

An Unexpected Treat!

We had a major rarity at the bird feeders today. A statement like that is likely to get the mind all a-buzz with potential exotic species that may occasionally pop up. Did some Waxwings stop by? How about an unusual finch of some sort?

No, our major rarity was probably the last species you would think of; it was House Sparrow. Indeed, three of them, which is even more remarkable. Since we moved into our current house just over a year ago, we've been rather saddened by the complete lack of House Sparrows, chirping cheerfully from the guttering as they have done from pretty much every other place I have ever lived. Much maligned for being a 'pest', our humble House Sparrow is a species in catastrophic decline in the UK, with a number of national research surveys from the RSPB and BTO showing staggering declines over the past 25-30 years and this species is now on the Red List as a species of Conservation Concern.

Changes in agricultural policy as well as the effects of air-borne pollution from traffic are implicated in early work on the reasons for this huge decline but research continues into the reasons which will doubtless involve a number of issues. We sometimes hear one or two House Sparrows at the other end of the village when we go on local walks, but they are scarce enough that they rarely make it down to us and this is only the third time we have recorded them in the garden over the past year.

It does seem telling that at one time, we would fashion nestboxes to be 'sparrow-proof' to keep the little devils at bay, but now you can buy specially-constructed boxes in an effort to try and reverse the decline of this bird that is at one and the same time, much loved, but much maligned.

Three's a crowd! Our House Sparrows today on the fatball feeder (a second male is around the back with his tail sticking out at bottom left).