This morning, bright and early, I took myself off to a coastal site I rarely visit. It's one of those places that always looks as if it should harbour coachloads of rarities, but for some reason never does. Today wasn't any different, but it displayed all those qualities that keep drawing me back every now and again.
The birds were in full swing. Small groups of finches were all over the place: four Chaffinches flushed from the footpath hedge, a few Greenfinches, Goldfinches with young, Linnets (nearly all rose-pink males; I suppose the females must still be sitting) and, best of all, a couple of male Bullfinches, resplendent as tomatos (if you can call a tomato resplendent). A female Cirl Bunting popped up onto the hedge, looked me in the eye and flitted away.
But the really ubiquitous birds were the warblers. Not that there was a lot of variety. A family of Chiffchaffs was being fed, the parents picking insects off a cliff face warming in the sun. A solitary Willow Warbler popped up briefly in another bush. All the other warblers were Whitethroats. Loads of them. They were all over the scrub and bracken. There were several obvious family parties. Really great to see such numbers though I don't suppose they'll ever regain their pre-1969 levels.
I stood there, basking in the spectacle and - ever hopeful - intently scoping everything that flitted, when - WHOOOOSH! - I felt (and heard) a rush of wind as something pelted past my ear. What the f*** was THAT? I spun round and was just in time to see a Herring Gull disappearing over the cliffside hedge towards the sea with a juvenile Peregrine in hot pursuit! Then a high-pitched, insistent "kac-kac-kac" filled the air and two more Peregrines soared up from behind a towering crag. Then another; and before long I could see four Peregrines - two adults and two juveniles - all wheeling together. I watched them for a good half-hour as they soared to and fro, ever-protective of "their cliff", stooping at any Herring Gull that dared to come too close. One gull received the attention of two of the falcons at once and had a hard job escaping - I never knew Herring Gulls could be so agile! - but it was obvious that the falcons were only aiming to harrass, not to kill. Indeed, though they never perched once, they showed no signs of trying to hunt anything: they seemed to be simply revelling in being airborne.
It's not often a bird grabs me so much I can't tear myself away, but this was one occasion. There might have been a Spectacled Warbler in the bush next to me: I couldn't have cared less.
The birds were in full swing. Small groups of finches were all over the place: four Chaffinches flushed from the footpath hedge, a few Greenfinches, Goldfinches with young, Linnets (nearly all rose-pink males; I suppose the females must still be sitting) and, best of all, a couple of male Bullfinches, resplendent as tomatos (if you can call a tomato resplendent). A female Cirl Bunting popped up onto the hedge, looked me in the eye and flitted away.
But the really ubiquitous birds were the warblers. Not that there was a lot of variety. A family of Chiffchaffs was being fed, the parents picking insects off a cliff face warming in the sun. A solitary Willow Warbler popped up briefly in another bush. All the other warblers were Whitethroats. Loads of them. They were all over the scrub and bracken. There were several obvious family parties. Really great to see such numbers though I don't suppose they'll ever regain their pre-1969 levels.
I stood there, basking in the spectacle and - ever hopeful - intently scoping everything that flitted, when - WHOOOOSH! - I felt (and heard) a rush of wind as something pelted past my ear. What the f*** was THAT? I spun round and was just in time to see a Herring Gull disappearing over the cliffside hedge towards the sea with a juvenile Peregrine in hot pursuit! Then a high-pitched, insistent "kac-kac-kac" filled the air and two more Peregrines soared up from behind a towering crag. Then another; and before long I could see four Peregrines - two adults and two juveniles - all wheeling together. I watched them for a good half-hour as they soared to and fro, ever-protective of "their cliff", stooping at any Herring Gull that dared to come too close. One gull received the attention of two of the falcons at once and had a hard job escaping - I never knew Herring Gulls could be so agile! - but it was obvious that the falcons were only aiming to harrass, not to kill. Indeed, though they never perched once, they showed no signs of trying to hunt anything: they seemed to be simply revelling in being airborne.
It's not often a bird grabs me so much I can't tear myself away, but this was one occasion. There might have been a Spectacled Warbler in the bush next to me: I couldn't have cared less.
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