ColinD
Well-known member
Just experienced the highs and the lows of modern day birding. When I learned that my sons needed dropping off at their friends in Rainford for the afternoon, my initial reaction was great, Martin Mere here I come. However before setting out, I decided to have a quick look at Birdguides just in case. I had mixed emotions when I saw that there was a Caspian Tern at Leighton Moss, on the Eric Morecombe pools.
Mixed emotions, because at less than an hours drive, and being one of the commonest species I have never seen in the UK, I felt I had to go for it, but I really have dipped on so many Caspian Terns in the past, that it hardly seemed worth the effort to inevitably be told that it had gone, probably to Martin Mere knowing my luck!
Anyway, I went, but with a heavy heart. Loads of cars on the car park when I got there, I avoided making eye contact with the birders walking back from the hide, because I wanted to leave the bad news to the last minute. I reached the hide, could barely open the door because of the masses inside. I could no longer delay the inevitable - Me: "is IT still here?", Crushed and apparently dieing birder: "No, last seen an hour ago". Dear God, hides are horrendous places! I half expected him to finish with the words "Help me, please".
I didn't even go in the hide, and five minutes later I'd stomped back to the car telling myself that I hate hides at the best of times, so I'm certainly not going to wait in a crush worse than at football match, just in case a stupid tern decides to come back, on a gloriously hot sunny day. I decided to even avoid Leighton Moss itself and went to a quarry at the side of the reserve, to look for flowers and butterflies.
Here I spent a relaxing hour on my own, sunbathing amongst various orchids, and watching a variety of butterflies, dragonflies and day-flying moths go about their business. My intention had been to get off home from here and forget the tern. However, the red mist that had decended on me when I was told that the tern had not been seen had now lifted, and I sent my mate a text. Me: "Any news on the Caspian Tern?" Friend: "Last seen at 4:00pm". It was now 4:30pm, so it had obviously returned in my absence. Little did I know, at 4:00pm it was apparently on the reserve itself NOT the Eric Morecombe Pool.
So armed with half the information I needed, I headed back to the wrong place, to find the car park almost empty. Just as I started walking towards the hide though, a stream of cars started to pull onto the carpark. A miracle had happened! The tern had quit the reserve and was back on the Eric Morecambe Pool, and for once, I was leading the pack, and boy, nobody was going to overtake me!
Even so, the hide was full, but at least I got in, and got onto the bird almost straight away, a massive tern, dwarfing Teal and Redshank alike, with a carrot for a bill. Briefly it was seen in flight.
And here's the little moan. Not a big moan, just a little one, so don't take it personal. Back in the old days, when a bird was as obliging as the Caspian Tern eventually was today, birders would set up their scopes, have a good look, on rare occasions take a few notes and then go, making way for others after just a few minutes. Photographers had their own windows in hides. These days, everybody is a photographer, and apparently has the right to sit there for hours, often taking up a whole window to themselves, trying to get yet another crappy photo of the bird, while the queue grows outside the hide. At least before digital, you were paying for each photo and therefore took a limited number.
To be honest, I'd like to see all tripods banned from hides, that would double their capacity straight away. I had my scope with me, but not my tripod, and trying to force my way to a window to rest on, past the heaving masses clicking away was quite an adventure, but the point is, when you got past the forest of tripod legs, there were actually seats available at the front!
Oh well, I saw one of my bogey birds superbly, and escaped the hide to tell the tale, and had a bloody good day. Oh, and there were kids in the hide as well. Don't tell me they're learning anything about nature in a situation like that.
Colin
Mixed emotions, because at less than an hours drive, and being one of the commonest species I have never seen in the UK, I felt I had to go for it, but I really have dipped on so many Caspian Terns in the past, that it hardly seemed worth the effort to inevitably be told that it had gone, probably to Martin Mere knowing my luck!
Anyway, I went, but with a heavy heart. Loads of cars on the car park when I got there, I avoided making eye contact with the birders walking back from the hide, because I wanted to leave the bad news to the last minute. I reached the hide, could barely open the door because of the masses inside. I could no longer delay the inevitable - Me: "is IT still here?", Crushed and apparently dieing birder: "No, last seen an hour ago". Dear God, hides are horrendous places! I half expected him to finish with the words "Help me, please".
I didn't even go in the hide, and five minutes later I'd stomped back to the car telling myself that I hate hides at the best of times, so I'm certainly not going to wait in a crush worse than at football match, just in case a stupid tern decides to come back, on a gloriously hot sunny day. I decided to even avoid Leighton Moss itself and went to a quarry at the side of the reserve, to look for flowers and butterflies.
Here I spent a relaxing hour on my own, sunbathing amongst various orchids, and watching a variety of butterflies, dragonflies and day-flying moths go about their business. My intention had been to get off home from here and forget the tern. However, the red mist that had decended on me when I was told that the tern had not been seen had now lifted, and I sent my mate a text. Me: "Any news on the Caspian Tern?" Friend: "Last seen at 4:00pm". It was now 4:30pm, so it had obviously returned in my absence. Little did I know, at 4:00pm it was apparently on the reserve itself NOT the Eric Morecombe Pool.
So armed with half the information I needed, I headed back to the wrong place, to find the car park almost empty. Just as I started walking towards the hide though, a stream of cars started to pull onto the carpark. A miracle had happened! The tern had quit the reserve and was back on the Eric Morecambe Pool, and for once, I was leading the pack, and boy, nobody was going to overtake me!
Even so, the hide was full, but at least I got in, and got onto the bird almost straight away, a massive tern, dwarfing Teal and Redshank alike, with a carrot for a bill. Briefly it was seen in flight.
And here's the little moan. Not a big moan, just a little one, so don't take it personal. Back in the old days, when a bird was as obliging as the Caspian Tern eventually was today, birders would set up their scopes, have a good look, on rare occasions take a few notes and then go, making way for others after just a few minutes. Photographers had their own windows in hides. These days, everybody is a photographer, and apparently has the right to sit there for hours, often taking up a whole window to themselves, trying to get yet another crappy photo of the bird, while the queue grows outside the hide. At least before digital, you were paying for each photo and therefore took a limited number.
To be honest, I'd like to see all tripods banned from hides, that would double their capacity straight away. I had my scope with me, but not my tripod, and trying to force my way to a window to rest on, past the heaving masses clicking away was quite an adventure, but the point is, when you got past the forest of tripod legs, there were actually seats available at the front!
Oh well, I saw one of my bogey birds superbly, and escaped the hide to tell the tale, and had a bloody good day. Oh, and there were kids in the hide as well. Don't tell me they're learning anything about nature in a situation like that.
Colin
