counting coots

On Wednesday morning I found the Yellow Legged Gull again so it is looking like it is doing what it normally does and should hang about for a month or so. Which is nice. It briefly showed yesterday lunchtime. That’s the steady bit. The only interest has come from Gulls. I had quite a long look over a flock yesterday lunchtime, and it was quite varied. Black-headed Gulls loafing, including a couple of juvs, there were a few juvenile Herrrings, some of which would be classed as first winter types as well as other summer or winter 'types'. There was also a big 2nd summer GBB, and nearly every variation of LBB on show including a cracking looking 3rd winter type – nice fresh feathers on all but the secondaries. Peachy. Did I say interesting? Well, if you don’t dig gulls it is was pretty boring I guess. Your loss.

While we are on the subject of books, I have two things that I just have to get off my chest. Firstly, The Big Gull Book (which really is brilliant) is a bit disappointing with some of the coverage of argenteus Herring Gulls – it’s really good for argentatus and all the rest but we don’t have them much over here. I just find it disappointing, and a little annoying that a book that is obviously going to sell very well in blighty is a bit light on one of the trickier ID’s and a bit 'Scando-centric'. So there.

Secondly, in that Big Year book about the mad twitchers rare bird enthusiasts, right, the author reckons that Al Levantin (one of the three protagonists) cannot smell. He was evidently an industrial chemist and after many years in the lab his nose packed up. This meant that when he went to a place called Brownsville Dump to look for Tamaulipas Crows (whatever they are) he had a distinct advantage over the other birders because he couldn’t smell the detritus that was attracting the crows. However, earlier in the book he was on a pelagic and could smell the cod liver oil and chum as it went over the side. Now, either he could smell or he couldn’t. Which one is it? How do you expect me to believe all the other tales in the book if you can't tell me if for sure if a mans nose works or not? Eh?  Answer that for me.

There, I feel better already.

Have a picture of some gulls.  On a beach.

After all of last week’s patch tick craziness, it is back to normal. The days roll on, the tide rises and falls, and the same birds fly about a bit when they can be bothered. 

Admittedly I did briefly see a Common Sandpiper again on Monday but that is by far and away the most interesting thing that has happened. There does seem to be a small increase in the amount of Woodpigeons flying through, and yesterday I heard a Robin sing – now that was a novelty. Due to recent reports of a Med Gull in the vicinity, every single gull in the patch has been getting a lot of attention. Normally optics need not be raised to eliminate the flying Black Headed from a Med search, but as most of them are moulting, most of the secondaries are all over the place at the moment so the wing profile is a bit wrong. So I have been birding furiously, but to no avail.


On Sunday I was watching Red Kites. This was very enjoyable. While I was in the area there was a Jackdaw with no tail. When in flight it looked like a small black owl. This also was enjoyable.

You might have heard about this, you might not.  The story is told here.  I think it is quite funny.

So the year list for the patch is now higher than last year by one. In fact I am now in the biggest year of my patch life for this patch. And it’s only July. I was in the 29th best patch in London last year, but even with last years total beaten, I'm only in the mid thirties.  And that's assuming that all the other worthy patch birders have updated their lists.  So to maintain the top 30 status pop-pickers I need a big year.

Funnily enough, I’ve just finished reading The Big Year by Mark Obmascik, which if you have any lists of birds that you see, you will enjoy. Three now legendary birders in America try to break the record for the most birds seen in America in a year. The winner (Sandy Komito) ended up with 745. If you haven’t read it (regardless of which side of the pond you sit on), get hold of it. It’s a ruddy good read. Their antics would make the most mental UK twitcher rare bird enthusiast look like a reasoned patch birder. Kind of.


The interweb also informs me that this subject is now being made into a comedy film with Jack Black, Angelica Houston and Steve Martin along with a load of actors that I’ve never heard of but are probably regarded as celebrities. I suspect that this will be rubbish. I digress. This is now the patch Big Year, I’ve already broken the record due to the recent run and the good fortune that the severe winter weather brought at the beginning of the year.  So what should I have, and what might I get, to move further into unknown territory?

Here are six species that I had last two years that have yet to appear this year.

Goldcrest – should be a cert in the Autumn/Winter
Collared Dove – rare but annual, only a matter of time
Brambling – a previous one off
Green Sandpiper – not wholly unlikely
Greenshank – a previous one off
Oystercatcher – a previous one off, but not uncommon in West London.

So out of that lot let’s say that I’ll get two more - 67 for sure.

Now, for the Brambling, let’s assume that there is a finch of somer sort knocking about for the year – either that or a Siskin, a Bullfinch or maybe even a Reed Bunting. 68

For the waders, let’s assume that one of the above will drop in at some point – 69

Which leaves me one off the heady heights of 70. So we need to spread the net a bit wider.

Ducks. I have never seen a Pochard on this patch, which is slightly odd. Other candidates in this area are Shelduck and/or Shoveler. So let’s call that a nice round 70.

Gulls. I’m never short of Gulls in the winter, so it’s only a matter of time before something from the top drawer pops in . Med is my best bet (there was one in Chiswick over the weekend - hubba hubba!). – 71

Accidentals. This is where I need to be really lucky. But the following are seen on occasion within a couple of miles, Warblers, Osprey, Hobby, Sand Martin, Snipe, Dunlin, Plovers, Godwits, etc etc etc

Extrapolate from that lot, and in the spirit of the Big Year, nothing less than 73 will be accepted.  The chances of getting it though is another matter...

Bloody hell.  I'll go and look for this sandpiper then.  Two wader species in a day.  Remarkable.  I got further down river and didn't find a sandpiper, but did find a Yellow-legged Gull.  And there was a Common Tern, and a summer plumage Common Gull (niiiiice..).

What is going on?  It's like the birding equivalent of Once In A Lifetime...

This morning I was incredibly not excited when I saw a female Mallard flying across the wide vista that can be seen from the loo window.  'Oh' I thought, 'that is a mallard' I continued internally.  'Hang on a minute', I continued again, and internally again, 'thats a bloody loo tick!'.  And so it was.  This brings the loo list to a staggering 32 species. 

The patch continues to do little.  Loafing Black-headed Gulls now regularly over 100.  5+ LBB.  The odd Tern.  Only a Wren sings.  I Redshank upriver refuses to show itself.  I can almost smell the imminent Med Gull.

'A Med Gull?' you say.  'What does that look like?' you continue.

Well if you insist...

Yesterday was Flying Ant Day in Fulham.  That day in the year that flying ants come out and kamikaze style whack into everything, largely including my head. 

It is of course on flying ant day that people walk around going "it's flying ant day - look at all those ants".  All day.  And to everyone that they know.  As if we all know why it is that the ants take to the air, and that we care.  Or that we have some affinity with the ants, or even that we had been looking forward to flying ant day.  Although it has no cultural significance, it never gets on the news, everyone was talking about flying ants yesterday.  I suppose it beats going around saying "it is hot" all day which is equally inane.  Maybe it's the company I keep during the day.  Anyway,  I didn't take any photos of the ants, but instead I proffer some random buggage that I have come across recently.

Exhibit 1

Harpalus affinus

According to my book...

The elytra range from metallic green or blue, through bronzy red, to almost black with the outer areas punctate and slightly pubescent.

I have no idea what that means.

It is small and it looks like this.






Exhibit 3.

Ringlet.  Aphantopus hyperantus.

It's a butterfly.


I have recently found a spider with a pink back but I cannot discuss this here as spiders, as I am sure you know dear reader, are not bugs.

I did see some birds yesterday.  But it wasn't very exciting.

Stop!  To ensure that the atmospherics of todays offering are correct, go back to the title of the post and put on your horror-movie-trailer-voiceover-voice on.  Go on.  The super deep gravelly voice that scares children but makes adults laugh because it is a bit stoopid really.  You know, the one that you can only do for a couple of words before it hurts your throat. And makes you cough.  But is occasionally worth it.  Now try again.

They're - baaack....

Excellent. 

Now see if you can read the next paragraph out loud (or if you must, internally) - but still with the horror-movie-trailer-voiceover-voice on.  If you don't follow the instructions, you will not get the most out of the post.  Now come on, play along!

In a world where everything was tidal, he was a humble patch birder.  He thought that they had gone, but this winter they have returned.  To haunt his dreams....  They are back, and this time they have abraded tertials.  He, armed with nothing more than a copy of the the old Collins and the Big Gull Book, must I-D them all.        Before.    They.    Send.    Him.     Insane.            From the maker of Death On the Wandle, and I Know What You Moulted Last Summer, coming to a patch near you - Thing stars in Dodgy Gulls Of Winter Part II - The Hunt For The Cachinnans....

That's right kids - another first for the patch.  Hot on the heels of the two year ticks (when it was decreed that this patch is now on fire) my next sojourn brought an excellent first for the patch!

Behoooooold!

Yes, I can see that it isn't a bird.  In fact my identification skills lead me to believe that this is, in fact, a butterfly.  I can also confirm that it is a Speckled Wood and I have not seen one of these in this here patch before.  And yes, it is not where it should be as it should be (as it's name suggests) in a wood, being speckled.  Not on a sandy bit of almost waste ground next to a big river.

Yes, I would have preferred to witter on about birds.  But if the highlight of a visit is 'oh, there are now more than 30 Black Headed Gulls knocking about' then the butterfly gets the nod.

...and another moth free post.

There have not been many blog posts here lately, because not much is happening.   Unless you call grebes flying 'a happening'.  I've looked, but I haven't found much.  Not much happening, not much blogging.  That's how it works, innit.

A Yellow-legged Gull was recently seen on the patch, not by me either - see here.  Usually, if they stay for a little while, they stay for a long while.  If you get me.

There is a Chaffinch by my house that cheeps for most of the evening, almost constantly.  It is getting annoying.

I don't know anyone who wants Uruguay to win tonight.

That oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico is still leaking.

Home made scotch eggs are quite lovely.

There is a programme on the telly on Thursday about Harpy Eagles.  It is an hour long.  Yummy.

The moths from the other day were a European Corn-borer and Dark Arches.  One is a pest, and the other looks nothing like the picture in my book.


Birdlife now have a blog going on called the Birdlife Community.  It's ace.  Get on it.  It's not just conservation, or doom and gloom.  Just check out this Woodpecker.  And their tag cloud is immense.


Micro moths are not necessarily really small.


This picture is of a butterfly, not a moth.

I lied about this being a moth free post.

Someone please tell me what these bloody moths are!  I've been through my book at least 10 times trying to find something that is fits and have come close, but not close enough.  They are doing my bonce in.  Twisting my melons in fact.

Basically, no.

At 5pm in the evening, it would seem that no birds have been seen in London today ...

Now, one could anthropomorphise this whole situation, and if you did you would be sad because the Coots put in the effort to produce the eggs and one didn’t hatch, one nearly did, three did hatch but one chick didn’t last long. The two that were left were getting nicely plump just before they were eaten. If however, you don’t anthropomorphise the situation you will be glad to know that there is a Kestrel chick nearby with a nice fat stomach, full of Coot. Yummy.



With the loss of this nest, the birding interest on the patch is well and truly grinding to a summery halt.

Moths then.
Damselflies for sure.
Bugs if necessary.



Gulls anyone?

Friday 25 June 2010
I was looking at this nest today and saw no young only the pair of adults - there was another coot nest much futher down the river - so I take it the young have been predated?

A bloody Hobby!  FFS!  It won't come back, as there are no hirundines or dragonflies to eat.  I am as gutted as Frank Lampard.  Truly, truly pissed off.  A Hobby in the patch, and I missed it.  Gutted.

And as for the Coots, that really is bad news.  I'll be back, but what I'll have to show only the patch will tell...

Nothing to do with the wonderfully flatulent Johnny Fartpants I assure you, but it is to do with another kind of seemingly audible flatus. 

Farting hirundines. The evocative and once widespread summer sound of a flying wet fart. Or more accurately the lack of hirundines round here and therefore the lack of wet farting noises. Or even more accurately the lack of a particular type of wet farting noise, as there are other birds that make wettish (damp?) farting noises that are similar to the wet farting noises that I wanted to hear, but hadn't heard, that on occasion sounded exactly like the wet farting noises I did want to hear. It got to such a point that the wet farting noises I was hearing were being dismissed as farting imposters without being considered properly.  I refer to the wet farting noises I was hearing in the sky of course and not necessarily anything that was generated by your esteemed host's trouser department.  Absolutely not, no. 

However,  I remain convinced that I didn’t rule out any wet farting noises without good reason (a birders farting jizz if you like), and until yesterday all wet farting noises were definitely the wrong farts. That's right, yesterday I heard wet farting noises in the sky and eventually, after much potty-mouthed mutterings, found the wet farting culprits and finally got the wet farting noise creators on the year list.


62 – House Martin x 3

Phew.



And the Coots? No problems, they even have a drinking straw each.

I and the bird 128

And just look at this bonkers bird!


There is more of that here...

Grey Wagtails have fledged for (at least) the second year in a row. Last year they fledged at the end of May, the two that I found yesterday were fresh out of the nest and there may be another to come. Nearly a months difference on the fledging time, so this time round I suspect that the first nest failed – and they didn’t nest in the same site as last year.


Here is one that has found a home on a mattress that was once in a Caravan.

Here is the other in a bush.

I still haven’t found the Grey Wagtail nest. There is one, of that I am sure. There is a female and a male Grey Wagtail, the male sings a lot and the female wasn’t seen for a while. Yesterday I saw both of them, in the same area at the same time and both had gobfulls of insects. One after another they flew to a similar place and then flew off. I think the nest may be underneath a bridge. But I thought that last year, and was very wrong. Elsewhere there was a couple of Common Terns floating up the Thames and some recently fledged Carrion Crows. Noisy Goldfinches, a flock of Long Tailed Tits. Greenfinches drinking from puddles in the road. Tufties floating. That kind of thing.


But you don’t care about all that, do you? You’ve come here to see what happened to the Coots and their chicks. You have come here for your daily dose of schadenfreude at my expense as I tear my hair out at the futility and desperation caused by the vicissitudes of one family of small water birds. Well dear reader, take that look off your face. I can see through your smile, you would love to be right and I’ll bet you didn’t sleep well last night. So here you are, here is the update what exactly has happened since the last instalment?

Well, not much actually. The big nest is a bit smaller, the little nest is a bit bigger and the two chicks are a bit bigger too.

Here is a picture that shows the size of the two nests in question.

Still, if this nest progresses well and I’m a bit short of Coot based drama – worry not – look what I found a mere four hundred yards from the shopping trolley!





Yep, it’s a fresh nest in a tidal river that isn’t high enough! Hurrah!

This is how it is.  There are now two chicks, one has perished.  It is no more.  Predation?  I don't think so, the site is just too tricky to access.  The problem is this...

And feeding it to four day old chicks for good measure.  For those that thought that Coots just eat weeds, this may come as a pleasant surprise.  I'm assuming that it is a Mitten Crab as they are not unknown in these parts, but one of the Coots did bring a crab to the nest yesterday.  The legs and the insides went down quite easily.  The chicks were not too keen on the shell though.

...and Coots too.

While flicking between the improving Uruguay and Springwatch last night, I caught the bird race feature.  Both teams ended up going to the Wetland Centre.  Perhaps a little contrived, but perhaps not a surprise.  The full details of the visit, I assume, will be in tonights programme which might be viewed depending on how bad France are (the worse they are, the less of Springwatch will be seen I reckon). 

I'm supposing that they didn't realise how close they were to the 29th best patch in London, and how close they were to the drama unfolding in the Wandle.  2.1 miles - that's all.  They could have had a wander around the patch and seen very little, and very easily too.  A missed opportunity for sure.

Day three

The chick in the egg didn't make it and it is now flattened at the bottom of the nest.  The fifth egg hasn't hatched.  The three chicks remain in situ. 

...but what do you reckon this is?

Why it's a day old Coot chick you say.  What's so special about that?

Perhaps if I put it in a little context for you...


Oh, you say.  That looks like a nest in the river Wandle that has been built on a shopping trolley by two Coots, and by golly it looks like there is a chick on the nest.


That’s right dear reader, the Shopping Trolley Coots have, after at least three years of trying, incubated eggs successfully and now have young.  I say it again - the Shopping Trolley Coots have, after at least three years of trying, incubated eggs successfully and now have young

No, honestly.

No, I can hardly believe it myself either.

Lets have another view.


Yes, that is a Coot on a nest with a chick.  Gobsmacked I am.

Yesterday, there were three chicks and the adult was still looking after an egg or two. The weather was overcast and threatening to rain, so being young they stayed close to the female. 

I'll probably throw a cynical view in tomorrow, but for the moment just bask in the glory of persistence.

Let me illustrate this point by discussing the nesting habits of three pairs of Coots. Specifically in the Wandle. I am going give three examples and use words and pictures to elucidate behaviour of said bird in some kind of pseudo-scientific way. You shouldn’t really be surprised by this if you are a regular visitor here. I don’t blame you if you go and find something more interesting to do. For those that wish to persist, here goes!

The three examples of nesting are categorised thus – 'the doomed', 'the doomed but interesting', and the 'once doomed but hopeful'. Stick with it kids, it’ll be over in no time.

The doomed.



Not so long back I showed the folly of a pair of coots that plonked down on the banks of the Thames as the tide exposed a suitable area. Here is another example in the Wandle. It is a different pair, of that I have no doubt (there are about five pairs round here, none of them with a hope in hell of success). This area of the Wandle delta is the closest to the chalk stream that wandle once was, and this area of the riverbed is exposed for no more than a few hours at a time, and the nest site and the collection of material is futile. Don’t mock them, they cannot help it.


The doomed but interesting.


Spotted yesterday on the Wandle. If you look carefully you can see that there is a Coot behind the reeds frantically pulling all the nesting material that it’s mate is bringing it into a rudimentary nest. It’s high tide, and the birds are nesting in a quite suitable area. Now, if this nest were being made by any other waterbird you could reasonably expect success. However, these are Coots. Do you know what the problem is? In an hours time the water level will fall, and the nest will become more distant from the surface of the water. And Coots don’t like this one little bit. It doesn’t bother Moorhens, but Coots have to have the base of their nest touching water. So, it was an interesting proposition, but I doubt if the birds will build a nest from the top down that will be 5 metres tall.  I've seen this pair (or birds holding this section of the river as territory) starting nests on freshly exposed mud at low tide, so it is possible that they are trying to build two nests a day.  Mad.


The once doomed but hopeful.

And now on Radio 4, it’s Woman’s Hour – CLICK!


I had to take Mrs Thing to the University Of Essex and then wait for a number of hours before leaving the University Of Essex.

“What will you do for four hours?” said Mrs Thing. “Oh, don’t you worry about that...”.

For those that don’t know, The University Of Essex is one of those post-war out of town campuses, and is situated in the middle of Wivenhoe Park near Colchester. Which is a park like area on the outskirts of a large town that is next to the countryside. Terribly convenient for someone such as myself with a penchant for staring into trees with lots of time to kill. I could have done a bit of research to try and find out in advance what to expect and where to focus my energies, but that’s no fun and doesn’t leave much space for exploration which is of course half the fun of going to new places. So with the radio turned off, the doors closed and locked I headed off to wander round the campus. And it was totally pissing down with rain. And it rained really hard, and then started to rain harder. After an hour this began to annoy me as all I had seen was some very wet waterbirds doing very little. Having to stand underneath trees to try and get some shelter while smoking wet fags was quite wearing so I decided that I was going to brave the full ravages of the weather anyway so set off again, and then the rain stopped and the sun came out. Which was very nice.

It transpires that I had been round the more ornamental side of the campus, where the alien tree species are in full flow along with a fair few Rhododendrons chucked in for good measure (there is a private house there too which I assume is the university top dude’s residence). It was not filling me with hope for the following hours. However, once I had left this area I found myself in an area of open parkland with long grass and some big oaks dotted about, very similar to this picture in fact.



This gradually gave way to a more open area at the top of a hill with less of the big trees – and this where the interesting birds started to appear (singing Goldcrest, Swallow, two Woodpecker species, Blackcap etc) so in all I was enjoying it a bit more. I found this sign and I really don’t understand what it is about.  I mean, it's a sign on a signpost but it doesn't tell you anything.  It's at the end of a path which ends at a closed gate and a wall.  It's by a road, which has cars on it, not cows.  It's very strange, and the more I think about it the more confused I get.  So I won't think about it any more.