I mentioned a few weeks ago that I had been in danger of losing my birding mojo. A frustrating few weeks with limited birds and birding opportunities will do that to you, you know. By the same token, its amazing how random events act to re- enervate you.
Last autumn, a particularly horrendous work week was infinitely brightened by the sound of a chiffchaff calling near my home, presumably readying itself for its journey south. (having seen how bad Scottish summers are, no bird in its right mind would overwinter unless it had to) A chiffchaff had survived the horrendous spring, had survived the summer, and was now singing gustily from a tree, maddeningly close by but still out of sight amid the autumn foliage. Life was good, therefore.
Fast forward 6 months, and my infinitely frustrating March had drawn to a close. Even my annual Smew at RSPB lochwinnoch had added little other than a year tick. (this may have more to do with my ongoing Lochwinnoch issues rather than the value of getting a smew) This was going in the records as a dark, dark birding month for Green Sand. Redemption, though, appears in the unlikeliest places. On Tuesday- April 1st ironically- I managed to get my first chiffchaff of the year, from the car park of the local supermarket. Audible only, sure, but it was there! My totem of happiness had re- appeared in my town, I suddenly smiled, my spirits lifted, and I walked with a spring in my step.
Now, the thing was to make the most of this start to April. The daily updates show the birds which other birders are getting, whilst I'm stuck waiting for the opportunity to go out. While in March, this would send me crashing into despair, now I'm even more determined to make the most of my time out. On Saturday, I had the chance to make a brief visit to one of my favourite local sites, CAthkin Marsh SWT reserve. Experimentally, I brought my son and heir, 7 years old and fanatical about football, the visit hung in the balance between success and failure.
The reserve is always a reliable place for wheatear each summer, and I had heard reports of them being there. Always travel in hope rather than expectation, mind. Got to the reserve, and got reed bunting immediately, and was able to help my boy identify the birds. He did manage, on his own, to pick out a pair of buzzards, and a hunting grey heron, so at least he's learning something from his old man!
The day itself was bright and reasonably mild, and while the reserve lacked the energy of the summer when it is inundated with warblers, it was still a day out in the field, and therefore time to be enjoyed. We did manage to get a water rail scooting out from under the wooden boardwalk across the marsh- please to say I got this one, not my son. A kestrel hunting overhead was one of those birding sights that we have to show our children to inspire them. Skylark and meadow pipit were in good numbers, albeit the skylark were skulking and not visible. By this time, I had given up on the wheatear, but you know, I didn't actually mind. On the trudge back to the car, I paused briefly though and stared into the ploughed field where they had been seen. There, looking tiny amidst the ploughed furrows, sat a wonderful, beautiful, striking male wheatear. I got the bird I went for, but better still, I got the birding that I had been desperate for.
Last autumn, a particularly horrendous work week was infinitely brightened by the sound of a chiffchaff calling near my home, presumably readying itself for its journey south. (having seen how bad Scottish summers are, no bird in its right mind would overwinter unless it had to) A chiffchaff had survived the horrendous spring, had survived the summer, and was now singing gustily from a tree, maddeningly close by but still out of sight amid the autumn foliage. Life was good, therefore.
Fast forward 6 months, and my infinitely frustrating March had drawn to a close. Even my annual Smew at RSPB lochwinnoch had added little other than a year tick. (this may have more to do with my ongoing Lochwinnoch issues rather than the value of getting a smew) This was going in the records as a dark, dark birding month for Green Sand. Redemption, though, appears in the unlikeliest places. On Tuesday- April 1st ironically- I managed to get my first chiffchaff of the year, from the car park of the local supermarket. Audible only, sure, but it was there! My totem of happiness had re- appeared in my town, I suddenly smiled, my spirits lifted, and I walked with a spring in my step.
Now, the thing was to make the most of this start to April. The daily updates show the birds which other birders are getting, whilst I'm stuck waiting for the opportunity to go out. While in March, this would send me crashing into despair, now I'm even more determined to make the most of my time out. On Saturday, I had the chance to make a brief visit to one of my favourite local sites, CAthkin Marsh SWT reserve. Experimentally, I brought my son and heir, 7 years old and fanatical about football, the visit hung in the balance between success and failure.
The reserve is always a reliable place for wheatear each summer, and I had heard reports of them being there. Always travel in hope rather than expectation, mind. Got to the reserve, and got reed bunting immediately, and was able to help my boy identify the birds. He did manage, on his own, to pick out a pair of buzzards, and a hunting grey heron, so at least he's learning something from his old man!
The day itself was bright and reasonably mild, and while the reserve lacked the energy of the summer when it is inundated with warblers, it was still a day out in the field, and therefore time to be enjoyed. We did manage to get a water rail scooting out from under the wooden boardwalk across the marsh- please to say I got this one, not my son. A kestrel hunting overhead was one of those birding sights that we have to show our children to inspire them. Skylark and meadow pipit were in good numbers, albeit the skylark were skulking and not visible. By this time, I had given up on the wheatear, but you know, I didn't actually mind. On the trudge back to the car, I paused briefly though and stared into the ploughed field where they had been seen. There, looking tiny amidst the ploughed furrows, sat a wonderful, beautiful, striking male wheatear. I got the bird I went for, but better still, I got the birding that I had been desperate for.
