I was stunned today to find a Red-throated Loon in close to shore as I walked the Northeast Beach. This is a rare bird for me, atleast untilt his fall, and I find her(?) very elegant and graceful. So I grabbed a bunch of shots and put them here. I love the long, slender neck, the slightly upturned beak, the expressions of curiosity as she spots me, and the sleek body, rarely seen because it’s designed for underwater work. She reminds me of a young Katherine Hepburn – hmmmm, and come to think of it, the Common Loon reminds me a bit of Spencer Tracy

(Note – there’s a button for full screen mode for this slide show which you can then exit by hitting “escape” key. )

This wasn’t the only highlight of today’s walk – another one in inclement weather where there was a constant mist out of the northeast on alight wind that raised more chop onthe bay than the ocean. In any event, as I came over the causeway I spotted a Brant  – a juvenile I believe.  I’m used to seeing these in flocks – and not very often. In fact, I can only remember seeing them here once before a few years ago.  So maybe this one’s lost, or maybe he’s just a rebel off doing his own thing, In any event, they remind me of a small version of the Canada Goose. When they mature there’s a white ring around their neck = this one has only the slightest hint of a ring.

Click image for larger version.

Click image for larger version.

And remember the Bufflehead dude from the other day – the lone male? Well, this time he had a female companion – and there were several others  along the way, but in small groups.

After walking the beach I turned inland towards the towers and couldn’t help noticing that while the landscape is pretty bleak. Here’s a view looking out at a passing ship.

Click image for larger view.

There is an awful lot of color here if you look closely. One yellow flower seems to not know winter is coming. I see it in a small bunches throughout the island. Seems to be the only thing left in bloom right now.

The bittersweet berries remain lovely.

And here are a couple of other plants that I found appealing, but I don’t have a clue what they are.

Saw quite abit of smallbird activity – but little I could identify. Maybe a Yellow Rump or three and I;m cetain of a pair of Mockingbirds.  But most were too far away and too fast forme.

On the way out I stopped on the causeway to admire some Eiders. Seems they’ve learned to avoid humans now that hunting season is here. But they’re smart. They didn’t fly – just sort of swam real fast with t heir wings. Could they be doing this on purpose? Perhaps they know they can only be shot when in the air? Nawwww . . .

Diese Geschichte ist frei erfunden. Jede Ähnlichkeit mit Personen in der Realität ist nicht beabsichtigt.

Ich brachte an diesem schönen Sommerabend meine Freundin Sarah Stonewehr mit zu Garrson Mangelbergens DiscoNight im Eiderbad Hammer. Garrson machte wieder super Musik und auch DJ`s wie Clausen Bunsenbergen ™ akzeptierten langsam, dass nunmal Garrson Mangelbergen ™ die number one der DJ`s in Kiel war. Ich ging mit Sarah zu Garrson: “Hey Garrson, du sun! Du kennst doch noch Sarah, oder?” Garrson guckte mit solchen Stielaugen, dass ich es mit der Angst zu tun bekam. Auch Sarah bemerkte, dass Garrson sich in sie verguckt hatte. Sie flüsterte mir schnell ins Ohr: “Du Jerry? Wir müssen hier verschwinden bevor Garrson mich zu sich in den danceplace einlädt!” Doch es war zu spät. Garrson fragte: “Na, Sarah? Ich brauche noch eine fantastic Tänzerin für das nächste Wochenende. Wir machen eine Karaoke Show und danach Disco. Bist du dabei?” Ich takete ihn outside und splashte den Garrson bis nach Molfsee rüber. Das musste jetzt mal sein, dieser kleine splasher!

There’s something hauntingly romantic about Common Loons, frequent visitors to our region in winter. Like so much of the Gooseberry bird population, they are just visitors. In spring they go grab a lake somewhere up north and sing their mournful songs as they mate and raise a family.  Or so I’m told. I’ve never heard their song,  the most distinctive trait, though I have seen them in their northern habitats.  When their lakes freeze they head for the open waters of the coast. So I’ve been expecting to see one off Gooseberry soon and today was the day – right off the west side of the causeway as the rain pelted down and the waves and wind of a developing nor’easter started to batter the east side.

Common Loon, my first sighting of this season.

But my real surprise came when I got home.  See, I went down early. It was high tide and I figured they might close the causeway once the storm picked up as expected.  I expected to see the Eiders hunkered down in the ocean to the west of the causeway, out of the wind and waves and they were. So I snapped some pictures of them from the car – there was a raft of a dozen or so near Bar Rock and and about seven in close to shore. Of those seven, I took a close-up of these three and when I got home – well, look closely and you’ll see, I think, that they’re not all Eiders!

So are all these Eiders? Look closely. (Click to enlarge.)

Yes, the one closest to the camera is, I believe, a White-winged Scoter!  Now it’s not like I know all  these ducks. I know the ones I see often, but I need a book to pick out a White-winged Scoter – especially when you can’t see  the white on their wings. (It shows up when they’re flying, or when they turn a certain way as they float.). What caught my attention here were those two white patches on the face. When I first saw them I just assumed it was an Eider in some sort of transitional stage.  But it isn’t.  The guy on the left is a first winter male Common Eider, I believe, although I can’t see his breast which should be white, the mottled white on his back is diagnostic.

But I see no pictures of Eiders with splotches on their faces and the adult female White-winged Scoter shows just this pattern, is a tad smller than the Eider, and has roughly the same general bill shape.  What’s more, the bill on the female is black. Pete Dunne’s “Essential Field Guide Companion” says “in winter and  migration, particularly south of breeding areas,” the Common Eider associates “with other sea ducks, especially Scoters.”

The storm also brought a pick-up truck loaded with surfboards to Gooseberry. It rushed ahead of me as I headed towards the island on the causeway, and a few moments later passed me rushing out.  Guess the surf wasn’t anything like they expected from the reports of high storm winds – hardly a shocker since the Bay,  with an easterly wind, seldom kicks up like the ocean does on a westerly wind. And the ocean, under these conditions, looked like a proverbial mill pond – quite still.

Surf's not up - at least to their satisfaction!

The Bay side was pretty with a reasonable wind and surf for that side – this view is along the North East Beach towards East Point. The gulls seemed to be having fun surfing the incoming wind. And I did see a lone Sanderling on the beach.

I’m sure it got angrier as the day wore on. In fact, as I write this  about 10 hours later, it is snowing just a couple dozen miles north of here and they are now forecasting a mix of snow and rain for us later tonight.  This is early for winter. Maybe the Loon and White-winged Scooter know something

I mean start ‘em now  ’cause the forecast for tomorrow is chilly – inthe 30s in the morning!

OK – there were some neat small birds seen on today’s walk as well,  but there was a veritable flood of Monarchs! I counted 147 in about an hour, but at least 130 of those came in a half hour stretch south of the towers – and just about none on the road north of the towers. Here’s one of my favorite shots from the morning – and was typical of these cold-blooded creatures who use solar power to get their flight muscles warmed.

Monarchs need to bask in the sun and heat up their flight muscles to at least 55° F before they can fly, so this morning (10 am) under mostly cloudy skies in 60 degrees temps I saw a lot basking. (Click picture for larger image.)

The area south of the towers is largely golden rod and pampas grass with a sandy pathway just above the beach. As I walked that path it semed like there would always be several Monarchs fluttering just ahead of me or off to one side -so many flying atonce it was difficult to keep count.

Click picture for larger image.

One thing that never cease to amaze me is to look our over an apparently endless stretch of ocean and see Monarchs coming in – or heading off.

Click picture for larger version.

Below is the view from South Beach north towards the towers. Notice that there is a lot of pampas grass and goldenrod. Most of the Monarchs I saw were on the east – leeward – side of this and on – or around -  the goldenrod plants.

Click picture for larger version.

Nearer the towers and along the path leading south I saw these two little guys. My reading is they’re Yellow-rumped Warblers in their first winter garb. No, at this angle I don’t see the yellow rumps.

Click picture for larger version.

And here’s one alone posing for a photo-op!

Click picture for larger image.

Those two I saw on my way out. On my way back – near the same spot – I saw this one, who made sure I understood why he was named a Yellow-rumped” Warbler! Of course you have to look hard to see the rest of him

Click picture for larger image.

The eastern Phoebe’s are still hanging out by the road, but I was suprised to see this catbird (below). The ones in my yard headed south quite a while ago.

Click image for larger version.

Back at the parking lot I saw one, lone Eider riding the waves to the west  – I assume in first winter garb.  I didn’t see any other seabirds or shorebirds – well cormorants and gulls, of course, but nothing unusual and I don’t know where the rest of the Eiders were.

Click image for a larger version.

The surf was up yesterday afternoon – and the wind warriors were out in force.  The ones that first caught my attention were the two-legged variety, but the ones that caught my heart had wings. Like these Sanderlings scooting along just above the surf.

Click image for larger version.

There was some interesting action on the eastern shore as well – but more on that in a minute. First, were the guys: What struck me was there were about a dozen, and they were well-past their teen years. My guess is some of them skipped out of work a tad early to catch the surf. Watching them put on their wet suits and related equipment I couldn’t help thinking of modern warriors,  girding themselves for battle – in this case battle with wind and surf.  But it seemed only a couple really dared get out there. Others got ready, but seemed content to sit on the rocks and watch the two that were challenging waves and wind.

Click image for larger version.

But as I watched these folks scooting across the surf, I noticed some small, rapidly flying shorebirds in the distance and over the next few minutes they came whirling along the wave-splashed causeway . . .

Looking north from the west side of the parking lot along the causeway as a strong southwest winds sends waves against it near high tide. Click image for larger version.

. . . and right past where I stood. I snapped furiously with varying luck and when I got home, made an effort to sort out what I had seen. Here’s the better results.

Dunlin's, I believe. Click image for larger version.

And this, I'm quite sure, is a Dunlin in the lead with two Sanderlings trailing. Click image for larger version.

Meanwhile, on the much calmer eastern shore, this handsome Common Eider was resting on a rock, then hopped in the water and stretched.

Female, common Eider - first winter, perhaps. Click image for larger version.

The ring-billed gull is significantly smaller than the Herring Gull, but this pair really drive home that point – especially when you consider that the ring-billed is the one closer to the camera.

Click image for larger version.

Seen singly, in flight, it’s nearly impossible to judge size. But, of course, the black ring around the bill makes identification in this case easy. Black wing tips with white spots are also diagnostic.

Second winter - or adult non-breeding, ring-billed gull. Click image for larger version.

What i couldn’t identify were these shells. They were all connected together and looked like Slippers – but why and how are they connected? And why so many on the beach right now?

Click image for larger version.

There wasn’t a single example – there were many examples – sometimes all gathered together as this next image shows.

Click image for larger version.

BTW – we were out in the morning – Bren, Higgins, Eliza and I. But I had forgotten to put a card in my camera, so I missed some good photo opportunities, including wave after wave of swallows coming down from the north and flying along the top of the east beach – oh, and another monarch butterfly.  I went back alone about 3 pm to get the  shots shown above.

Wednesday I was too tied up with the astronomy Web site, tomorrow is my astronomy class, and Friday – well, expecting packages in the morning and playing bridge in the afternoon – so it may be a few days before the next journal entry!

DIE BLAUKEHLCHEN KEHREN ZURÜCK
Fotos und Reportage     © H. Schulz

Sie waren schon fast ausgestorben in Schleswig-Holstein - die hübschen Blaukehlchen. Seit Anfang der 90er Jahre kehren sie wieder zurück in Deutschlands nördlichstes Bundesland. Inzwischen brüten wieder an die 900 Paare. Der Ornithologe Dr. Knut Jeromin hat mir die Geschichte der gefiederten Sänger mit der blauen Kehle erzählt.   

REPORTAGE

Kein Rot-, kein Braun-, sondern ein Blaukehlchen

Rotkehlchen? Die kennt doch jeder. Und vom Braunkehlchen hat man schon mal gehört. Aber Blaukehlchen? Ja, auch die gibt es. Versteckt und heimlich leben die gefiederten Sänger und werden deshalb meist übersehen. Bei einem Spaziergang entlang der Eider bei Friedrichstadt, Anfang der 90er Jahre, entdeckte ich im Schilf einen der seltenen Vögel. Unscheinbar gefärbt war er am Rücken und erinnerte ein wenig an eine Nachtigall. Erst, als er mir die Vorderseite zuwendete, sah ich den leuchtend blauen Fleck unter dem Schnabel. Für mich war diese Begegnung die erste Beobachtung eines Blaukehlchens im Norden Deutschlands.

Ein Glücksfall, wie ich heute weiß. Vor 20 Jahren noch stand das Blaukehlchen in Schleswig-Holstein kurz vor dem Aussterben. “Ab etwa 1993 nahm der Bestand dann wieder zu”, erzählt Dr. Knut Jeromin, “Und schon 2 Jahre später haben wieder etwa 70 Paare hier gebrütet”. Im Auftrag der Ornithologischen Arbeitsgemeinschaft (OAG) wertet der Biologe die Ergebnisse der Vogelzählungen ehrenamtlicher Mitarbeiter aus. Und so weiß er auch, dass inzwischen wieder mehr als 900 Paare Blaukehlchen in Schleswig-Holstein brüten. “Trotzdem freue ich mich noch immer über jede Beobachtung”, schwärmt der Ornithologe, “Es ist jedesmal wieder ein Erlebnis, die herrlichen Vögel im Frühjahr bei ihren Singflügen zu sehen”.

Die genauen Gründe für die Rückkehr der Blaukehlchen kennen die Vogelkundler noch nicht. Die meisten Brutpaare leben im Westen unseres Landes, vor allem in der Eider-Treene-Sorge-Region und in den Speicherkögen an der Nordseeküste. In der sicheren Deckung des Röhrichts bauen sie ihre Nester. Ihre Nahrung, hauptsächlich Insekten, suchen sie in offenen Flächen und am schlammigen Ufer. Auch im Kulturland haben die hübschen Vögel Fuß gefasst. “Dort nisten sie zwischen den Äckern in schmalen, schilfbewachsenen Gräben”, weiß Knut Jeromin, “Und selbst in Rapsfeldern kann man heute gelegentlich Blaukehlchen finden”.

Besonders gut beobachten kann man die Vögel am Beltringharder Koog, an der Eider ab Nordfeld flussabwärts und an der Unterelbe bei St. Margarethen und Neufeld. Im Frühjahr, von April bis Juni, machen die Gefiederten mit der blauen Kehle dort durch ihren Reviergesang auf sich aufmerksam. So, als wollten sie sagen: Schaut her, wir sind wieder da.

 
Informationen zum “Blaukehlchen”
Vom Blaukehlchen (Luscinia svecica) gibt es zwei Unterarten. Weißsternige Blaukehlchen, beheimatet von der westeuropäischen Nordseeküste bis zum Westen Russlands, haben auf der blauen Kehle einen weißen Fleck. Bei den Rotsternigen Blaukehlchen in Skandinavien und in Russland bis Sibirien ist dieser Fleck rot.

Fährt man von der Schleswig-Holsteinischen Westküste aus in Richtung Schleswig, über Husum oder Friedrichstadt, kommt man durch idyllische kleine Dörfer mit schönen Reetdach-Häusern, die sich gegenseitig Konkurrenz machen, das “Storchendorf” zu sein. Da gibt es zum Beispiel Bergenhusen, Süderstapel, Drage, Seeth, Hollingstedt, Stapelholm und wie sie alle heißen, alle im Gebiet der Eider und Treene Marschen.  Bergenhusen hat die größte Storchen-Population in ganz Europa. In dem kleinen Menschen-Nest brüten bis zu 14 Storchenpaare! Diesmal hatte ich viel Glück! Alle Nester waren komplett belegt und ausgebucht. Der Nachwuchs gedeiht prächtig und wenn ich die Situation mit früher vergleiche ( habe in der Gegend bis ca vor 7 Jahren noch nie mehr als 2 Störche gesehen…) so teilt der Storch mittlerweile gerne wieder unseren Lebensraum. Jedenfalls hoffe ich das und wünsche mir, dass es so bleibt. Denn verlassene Storchennester im Sommer sind einfach ein trostloser Anblick.

Die Eider bei Süderstapel

Hollingstedt

Nachwuchs

Bei Stapelholm auf Froschjagd

Bergenhusen

Suchbild

Bergenhusen

]]> http://sheffieldwildlife.wordpress.com/2009/07/14/half-time-analysis/ Tue, 14 Jul 2009 12:17:15 +0000 Pete http://sheffieldwildlife.wordpress.com/2009/07/14/half-time-analysis/

Sorry, I’ve been a bit quiet of late, and hopefully I’ll have some interesting, wildlifey stuff to write about soon!

As a piece of blatent filler to keep the blog ticking over, and we’re just over half way through the year, here’s a bit of a recap of how the first half of the 2009 birding list’s going. My target for the year is 200, will it be reached…?

January started solidly but unspectacularly with the usual suspects hoovered up around the Loxley Valley. A trip to Fairburn Ings on the 10th Jan brought me the year’s first lifer, in the form of roosting long-eared owls, and a trip that also turned up the year’s first kingfishers, redpolls and willow tits. A trip to Norfolk on the 18th Jan was even better, with some fairly embarassing lifers finally got in the form of red-breasted merganser, grey plover, brent goose and Egyptian goose. Other birds of the day included ruff, avocet, pintail, barn owl, marsh harrier and bearded tit.

Brent Geese

Little owl and buzzard were got at Old Moor later in the month, a lunchtime twitch to Crosspool brought up the first of many waxwings of the year, and a final lifer of the month was marsh tit at Clumber Park, bringing January’s total to a not-too-shabby 100.

February was a bit quieter, with grey wagtail and tawny owl finally found in the Loxley Valley, and the bittern and water rail both playing nicely at Potteric Carr. A trip to London saw the year’s first peregrine and green woodpecker, and a lifer in the form of ring-necked parakeet. A red kite over the motorway on the way back was another nice addition to the yearlist.

Ring-necked Parakeet

March started spectacularly with some cracking hawfinches at Wentworth Castle (a lifer). Bempton yielded their usual stars in the form of gannet, guillemot, razorbill and fulmar, while Brid turned up some huddling purple sandpipers in the harbour. A chiffchaff close to home on the 20th was the first of the Spring migrants. A pair of mandarin at Lady’s Spring Wood and lesser spotted woodpecker at Beeley Wood and red grouse at Cowell Flat finished the month in style within the Sheffield boundary.

Mandarin

April’s first year tick was a corker, in the form of the very obliging great grey shrike at Strines. The spring migrants trickled through with willow warbler, blackcap and little ringed plover at Potteric on the 5th April, and best of all a drake garganey (a lifer). The rest of the month saw the migrants shuffle in, with swallow, house martin, sand martin, whitethroat, pied flycatcher, redstart, wheatear, common sandpiper and tree pipit found before the month was out, and leading to a healthy running total of 133 for the year.

Great Grey Shrike

May started well with the first swifts (bizarrely on the same day as my last waxwings!), and my first ever sightings of the previously heard-only cuckoo at Wharncliffe. A trip to Stone Creek and Spurn on 6th May was another good day for mopping up much-needed lifers, with hen harrier, whimbrel, yellow wagtail and corn bunting all found, and common tern, sedge warbler and hobby added to the yearlist.

Cuckoo

Probably the highlight of the year so far were the dotterels on Stanage Edge, which were worth braving a thundery evening for on the 15th, which also yielded ring ouzel and woodcock.

Dotterel

Garden warbler was finally picked up at Tinsley on the 23rd, and a trip to Anglesey on the 24th turned up chough (a lifer), raven, puffin, shag, kittiwake, rock pipit, sandwich tern and arctic tern. The month ended with a singing wood warbler at Wharncliffe, and a final lifer in the form of two black terns skimming the water at Old Moor. The total was now a fairly impressive 157.

Chough

June started with a fairly disappointing trip to Thorne, that only turned up reed warbler and heard-only turtle dove as new stuff (although the cuckoos and hobbies on show more than made up for it). A weekend in Northumberland saw eider, little tern and spotted flycatcher added to the list.

A trip to Potteric Carr saw the first little egrets of the year, and I finally got my first decent views of black-necked grebe. A return visit to Anglesey included a detour to Fedr Fawr to see the black guillemots, and some lesser whitethroats were also found.

Black-necked Grebe

The first few days of the second half of the year were busy, with nightjar sighted on Wharncliffe Heath on the 1st July, and spotted redshank, greenshank and green sandpiper found at Blacktoft Sands, and red-necked grebe being a nice lifer at Hatfield Moors, all on the following day. The total is now 171 (170 if you don’t count heard-onlies!).

Red-necked Grebe

So can I make the 200? 30 species to find in 6 months, including a few relatively easy ones like whinchat, crossbill, merlin, red-throated diver, common scoter, brambling, whooper swan, little gull, short-eared owl… what do you reckon?

I saw 2 Arctic Foxes in the area on consecutive days, and on both occasions despite being at least half a mile distant they scarpered at the first sight of me (ha, I have that effect on all things foxy) – a legacy of being persecuted fairly relentlessly in parts of the country. Plenty of Snow Buntings here, and nice to see them in warm sunlight rather than the more usual vile winter weather I associate with Snow Buntings.

From here I was back on the road again, looking with no great expectation of success for last year’s White-winged Scoter and various other odds and sods en route to my next target – Grey Phalarope. Picked up this stunning drake Harlequin beside a waterfall plunge pool beside the road:

When I finally did catch up with a Grey Phalarope, I saw for myself why calling them “Grey” is really unfair, as in breeding plumage they’re definitely “Red”…

Got mobbed by an Arctic Tern with serious attitude here, and moments before this shot was taken the stroppy little sod had dropped like a stone and delivered a vicious peck that drew blood.

Shortly after this, I found my one and only self-found Icelandic vagrant. Iceland has such an impressive pedigree of rarities from far, far away. ER was telling me the story of one Icelandic birder who back in the 60’s or 70’s had in his garden in one day Scarlet Tanager, Wood Thrush, and Black and White Warbler. Any of them would have done nicely… but no, it had to be something plastic, didn’t it?

From here back into the interior, and a close encounter of a similar, but more genuinely alarming kind than my Arctic Tern assault. Walking along the roped off public footpaths past a Gyr’s nest, I’d been waiting for nearly 2 hours for a sighting of one of the adult birds. An ear-splitting screech announced I was about to get what I’d wished for – and there coming towards me at head height was the big pale female. My first thought was “shit, she’s big” and then “shit, she’s coming straight at my face…” I chucked myself into the birch bushes alongside the path, and watched her tear back and forth past the bush a few times before settling on a nearby lava column to check me out. She was bloodstained (though fortunately not my blood this time!) and spent some time preening and picking bits of duck from herself. Satisfied she had calmed down, I beat a hasty retreat back down the path. The new lens didn’t do badly at all, but I felt the want of a good fast-focusing Canon as I’d have stood a chance of some (very) close range flight shots.

Yet more Red-necked Phalaropes in the roadside ditches…

…a very distant White-tailed Eagle (honest!)…

…and I spent a lot of time looking at Eiders. Aprroximately 80% seemed like classic borealis, with yellow bill bases and good clear scapular sails, but others were more like our Eider, with greenish bill bases and no sails. All very confusing.

Finally, back into Reykjavik and the culinary delights promised by the local paper – Minke Whale kebabs. Making up in meatiness what the advert lacked in subtlety…

Finally, some words of thanks – both to ER and his wife for providing me with a base in Reykjavik, my camping gear, and ER’s local knowledge; and to BG and his wife for providing me with such fabulous hospitality near to Gatwick on either side of the trip, and for the drives in their vintage cars. Great fun – thanks very much indeed to you all.

Following on from the visit to Staple Island, the boat day trip made its way to Inner Farne . En route we passed some Grey Seals, seen in the water and basking in the sun on the rocks.

Grey Seal (Halichoerus grypus)

Clambering on the rocks by the seals were some Turnstones

Turnstone (Arenaria interpres)

Crossing between the islands, I caught sight of a magnificent seabird, the Gannet. These appeared singly and in small groups.

Gannet (Morus bassanus)

Their yellow head is most striking, offest against their white bodies.

Inner Farne Island this time of year is covered in grassland and flowers, home to 3 species of Tern and Puffins. Immediately you land, the Arctic Terns take to the air and attack passerbys.

It’s wise to wear a hat and let the birds attack this, rather than your head, as they take no prisoners.

When flying in the air, they are quite beautiful to watch.

Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisaea)

They nest in isolated pockets on the ground, which is the reason they mob the unweary who fail to look where they are walking. Their bright red beaks are in constrast to the Common Tern, which has a blackened tip.

Common Tern (Sterna hirundo)

These also nest singly, rather than in colonies, like the Sandwich Terns.

Sandwich Tern (Sterna sandvicensis)

Notice the black bill and yellow tip for this tern, which distiguishes it from the other types.

Of course, if sufficiently threatened, all the terns take to the air in a cloud.

Things calmed down after a bit., and I got to see more Puffins, who live in burrows on the grassy top. They fly in from the sea, laden with sand eels.

Puffin (Fratercula arctica)

In the grass, I encountered a nesting female Eider, well camouflaged by the side of the walkway.

Eider (Somateria mollissima)

There was also Ringed Plover on the island, darting around the Arctic Tern nests.

Ringed Plover (Charadrius hiaticula)

Overhead, seabirds expected

Black headed gull (Larus ridibundus)

and unexpected.

Fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

The Fulmar had the air of an albatross, to which it is related, as he flew with stiff wings. Notice his nose, with the gap in the bill.

On the way back to harbour, more puffins at sea.

Finally in the harbour, along the shoreline I spotted an Oystercatcher.

Oystercatcher (Haematopus ostralegus)

What a day out!

This weekend we’ve been up to Northumberland. A fantastic time was had and for once I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

(unfortunately the best view we got!)

Weather watching for perfect conditions in Britain sounds like an oxymoron, but just occasionally the Gods relent, the zephyrs are calmed and the weather is perfect. So this years trip to the Farne Islands took place in a high pressure system that produced a full days sunshine and flat seas…

Before the all day trip began, a few local birds at Seahouses were seen, including a Goldfinch.

Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis)

Swallows darted about, making use of the calm winds and sun, to collect as many flies as they can.

Swallow (Hirundo rustica)

On the sea wall, a Rock Dove rested.

Rock Dove (Columba livia)

The sunlight catches the irridescent sheen of green around his neck.

Close to the shoreline, but a little out to sea were Eiders Ducks.

Eider (Somateria mollissima).

The camouflage of the female ducks seems pointless at sea, but later in the day on the islands it becomes apparent why they display this way.

Out at sea, the calmness is palpable, and the views to the Northumbrian coastline are wonderful.

In the distance lies Dunstanburgh Castle, part of the 14th Century DMZ between England and Scotland, and much painted by Turner.

The concentration of wildlife increases the closer you get to one of the islands in the group. Shags are noticeable by their long necks.

They mostly fly very close to the surface of the sea, making towards Staple Island, our first destination on the trip.

One ventured to fly over the boat, showing off his wingspan and flight feathers.

Shag (Phalacrocorax aristotelis)

We’ll see more of these magnificent seabirds later.

Staple Island has nearby sea stacks, known as the ‘Pinnacles’. These are a perfect habitat for breeding Guillemot, Razorbill and Kittiwake.

The dark dolorite rocks rise vertiginously from the blue sea. They are, however, streaked with white seabird guano.

Kittiwakes make their nest on various ledges, which appear precarious.

Kittiwake (Rissa tridactyla)

Seabirds of different species have no option on land but to share close proximity (after all, they have the vastness of the sea for solitude). There are plenty of puffins nestling on the rocks.

Puffin (Fratercula arctica)

Floating in the sea are a pair of razorbills, together with a guillemot.

Razorbill (Alca torda)

Their white streak above the thickly set bill and darker plumage contrasts with the guillemot, which appears more brown.

Guillemot (Uria aalge)

Guillemots are gregarious and very noisy (hence the bazaar collective noun). This can be seen more fully once we land on the island and reach the top, close to the pinnacles, where the seabird colony resides.

Guillemots race in from the sea, carrying single sand eels for their mates, who brood the single egg resting on the rock.

They land in the colony, managing to find the right spot, amongst all the squawking.

A Shag sweeps past this spectacle, en route to its nest.

They display a degree of affection towards their partners

which is quite missing to their neighbours. The following bears witness to the demolition of a neighbouring nest.

No christian civilities, no love thy neighbour, thou shalt not steal. These are seabirds, and Shags particularly have the look of their Jurassic antecedents.

On top of the grassy mounds, waiting for Puffins laden with fish, and for unweary youngsters are the Islands prime predators, the Lesser black-backed gulls.

Lesser black-backed gull (Larus fuscus)

They attempt to trap puffins on land by the legs, who move slowly. In the air, they are quite another thing…

… even when laden with fish.

They emerge from the sea as single small dots, which grow in size until they swoop swiftly overhead to their burrows.

Finally, the Island is home to many small pools. One of these is occupied by Eider, with their new hatchlings.

That’s what all the camouflage was all about…

Next post, more from Inner Farne Island.

Eider a sido la expulsada de hoy en el reto. Ayer al irse su compañero Daniel, estuvo obligada a retar a una compañera y reto a Sara que hoy a ganado un reto mas.

Coreografia Eider y Sergi que es improvisada en pocos minutospara que Eider pueda ganar el reto.

Coreografia de Sara y Eider para quedarse con un unico hueco en fama y por un mismo chico Cris.

charla más que clase

coreo

veredicto

coreo

coreo

veredicto

Reto de titanas por bailar con Cris. Sara y Eider reciben el imparcial veredicto del jurado.

Lo peor es que Sara tiene razón