Sorry for the Blade Runner quote....
I sometimes run the risk of being too serious, of being a bit grim- minded, or of over- egging the importance of birding or being 'in the field.' Even the phrase 'in the field' can itself be a tad serious, but it conveys the duality I feel of every time one of us ventures outdoors. We love the outdoors, we love nature, we love immersing ourselves in birds, but we also owe it to nature and to our future selves to look after it. Change is inevitable, but we are losing all that is valuable to us, whether because of loss of habitat, pollution, persecution, or 'development' the rural idyll of my childhood even 30 years ago will never be the same again.
Its important to me, and this is where Roy Batty's soliloquy comes into it, that we appreciate each moment that we have. I've mentioned before, and its fairly common currency, that the 'next generation' or birders and naturalists aren't immediately obvious, and that many of our icons and heroes are ageing scarily (I remember rushing home from school to see Chris Packham on the Really Wild show- and he's in his 50s now!) and our opportunities to learn and enjoy their expertise are diminishing.
So it was a few weeks ago I found myself with an unmissable opportunity.
I had a day out in RSPB Wood of Cree reserve along with Jimmy Maxwell, doyen of Hamilton Area RSPB, septagenarian, font of unlimited birding knowledge, and Mr Superfit (judging by the pace he set along various woodland trails)
WoC had been a target place to visit for a coupleof years, and I saw a post last year that May was the best time to visit. Targets were wood warbler, pied flycatcher and spotted fly. Any other good 'uns a welcome bonus.
Set off at 7am, with Jimmy steering us through deepest darkest Lanarkshire. From the outset his 70- odd years of birding came through in conversation, as did his appreciation of some of Scotland's most scenic places. First stop the layby at the Dalveen Pass, which set the tone for jaw- dropping scenery.
Transit birds were mostly corvids, with kestrels at various places, and uncharacteristically show- off ish bullfinches. Windows rolled down got us the full range of common warblers. On a slightly more macabre note, we made a ticklist of roadkill species. It was one of these (a hare) that got us the best transit bird of the day- a red kite lifting up from the road, floating paralell to the car, then disappearing into the trees. Stunning.
Onto the reserve. Pied fly and Wood Warbler would be lifers for me. Other potetial highlights would be spotfly (seen once) redstart (seen once) garden warbler (seen once, heard more, misidentified loads...) and tree pipit (seen once, or as I found out, not at all)
Made our way to the car park, and grabbed a map. Set off on the woodland trail (sort of) and immediately hit with the wall of noise. A search through the high canopy got me a spot fly, so already a good start. Jimmy gave me a masterclass in identifying pied fly song- the songs were everywhere although the birds themesleves were more skulking.
It didn't take long, though, for me to nab a pied fly. Stunning looking bird, it offered great views, and we followed it for a while. Class lifer. We moved onward and upward the path, following the handy map. Ultimately, it became obvious the map was wrong, and we made our way back to the car, then realised we were in the wrong car park.
Sheepishly, we took a slow drive along the road. We leapt out once we heard the now- unmistakeable sound of wood warb, and headed back through the woods. Some fieldcraft, some cricked necks staring upwards, and we got it. Showed well (which was becoming the theme of the day) Another tick, the grin was cemented onto my face by now.
Back toward the car, and we had parked within 20 feet of a singing pied fly. This one showed well (!) and we quickly realised it was using a nest box. We discreetly left, and made our way to the main car park, where the map now made sense.
On through the woods, and this was where both the reserve and Jimmy's fieldcraft came into their own. As did his physical fitness- this was mostly uphill. Plenty of pied fly and woodwarbler. Garden warbler picked out from the background blackcaps, but still skulking. Eventually, we got the G/ Warbler showing well in a fir tree. Best views ever.
On the way back, Jimmy picked out the noise of tree pipit, and we set off again off- track, tracking it down. Patience, searching and bent necks finally got it singing and flying. Turns out the Tripit I thought I'd seen a couple of years back actually wasn't. Accidental lifer...
An untickable lifer was the green woodpecker heard yaffling, but not seen.
Back at the car we added nuthatch to our total, thanks mainly to Jimmy calling to it seductively. The road home also got us back onto the red kite on the hare, plus at least 2 pairs of kites at the Dalveen pass.
11 hours after setting off we made it home. Sore feet, a sore neck, but with the glow of a damned fine haul of birds including 3 lifers and 2 year ticks. Added to picking up even a fraction of Jimmy's knowledge, it was a damned fine day's birding. It was a moment in time, but certainly not one that will be lost.
I sometimes run the risk of being too serious, of being a bit grim- minded, or of over- egging the importance of birding or being 'in the field.' Even the phrase 'in the field' can itself be a tad serious, but it conveys the duality I feel of every time one of us ventures outdoors. We love the outdoors, we love nature, we love immersing ourselves in birds, but we also owe it to nature and to our future selves to look after it. Change is inevitable, but we are losing all that is valuable to us, whether because of loss of habitat, pollution, persecution, or 'development' the rural idyll of my childhood even 30 years ago will never be the same again.
Its important to me, and this is where Roy Batty's soliloquy comes into it, that we appreciate each moment that we have. I've mentioned before, and its fairly common currency, that the 'next generation' or birders and naturalists aren't immediately obvious, and that many of our icons and heroes are ageing scarily (I remember rushing home from school to see Chris Packham on the Really Wild show- and he's in his 50s now!) and our opportunities to learn and enjoy their expertise are diminishing.
So it was a few weeks ago I found myself with an unmissable opportunity.
I had a day out in RSPB Wood of Cree reserve along with Jimmy Maxwell, doyen of Hamilton Area RSPB, septagenarian, font of unlimited birding knowledge, and Mr Superfit (judging by the pace he set along various woodland trails)
WoC had been a target place to visit for a coupleof years, and I saw a post last year that May was the best time to visit. Targets were wood warbler, pied flycatcher and spotted fly. Any other good 'uns a welcome bonus.
Set off at 7am, with Jimmy steering us through deepest darkest Lanarkshire. From the outset his 70- odd years of birding came through in conversation, as did his appreciation of some of Scotland's most scenic places. First stop the layby at the Dalveen Pass, which set the tone for jaw- dropping scenery.
Transit birds were mostly corvids, with kestrels at various places, and uncharacteristically show- off ish bullfinches. Windows rolled down got us the full range of common warblers. On a slightly more macabre note, we made a ticklist of roadkill species. It was one of these (a hare) that got us the best transit bird of the day- a red kite lifting up from the road, floating paralell to the car, then disappearing into the trees. Stunning.
Onto the reserve. Pied fly and Wood Warbler would be lifers for me. Other potetial highlights would be spotfly (seen once) redstart (seen once) garden warbler (seen once, heard more, misidentified loads...) and tree pipit (seen once, or as I found out, not at all)
Made our way to the car park, and grabbed a map. Set off on the woodland trail (sort of) and immediately hit with the wall of noise. A search through the high canopy got me a spot fly, so already a good start. Jimmy gave me a masterclass in identifying pied fly song- the songs were everywhere although the birds themesleves were more skulking.
It didn't take long, though, for me to nab a pied fly. Stunning looking bird, it offered great views, and we followed it for a while. Class lifer. We moved onward and upward the path, following the handy map. Ultimately, it became obvious the map was wrong, and we made our way back to the car, then realised we were in the wrong car park.
Sheepishly, we took a slow drive along the road. We leapt out once we heard the now- unmistakeable sound of wood warb, and headed back through the woods. Some fieldcraft, some cricked necks staring upwards, and we got it. Showed well (which was becoming the theme of the day) Another tick, the grin was cemented onto my face by now.
Back toward the car, and we had parked within 20 feet of a singing pied fly. This one showed well (!) and we quickly realised it was using a nest box. We discreetly left, and made our way to the main car park, where the map now made sense.
On through the woods, and this was where both the reserve and Jimmy's fieldcraft came into their own. As did his physical fitness- this was mostly uphill. Plenty of pied fly and woodwarbler. Garden warbler picked out from the background blackcaps, but still skulking. Eventually, we got the G/ Warbler showing well in a fir tree. Best views ever.
On the way back, Jimmy picked out the noise of tree pipit, and we set off again off- track, tracking it down. Patience, searching and bent necks finally got it singing and flying. Turns out the Tripit I thought I'd seen a couple of years back actually wasn't. Accidental lifer...
An untickable lifer was the green woodpecker heard yaffling, but not seen.
Back at the car we added nuthatch to our total, thanks mainly to Jimmy calling to it seductively. The road home also got us back onto the red kite on the hare, plus at least 2 pairs of kites at the Dalveen pass.
11 hours after setting off we made it home. Sore feet, a sore neck, but with the glow of a damned fine haul of birds including 3 lifers and 2 year ticks. Added to picking up even a fraction of Jimmy's knowledge, it was a damned fine day's birding. It was a moment in time, but certainly not one that will be lost.
