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John's Mammals 2012 (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Farnboro John
- Start date
Does that quail show regularly, John? Wondering if worth a trip from Cambs as I've only ever seen one, in flight and would like a photo (esp one as good as yours)! The irony is there's one currently calling in my local cornfield, just a quarter of a mile from my house. Dammed if I can see it though!
James
Isurus
Well-known member
I'm not John James but this bloke nailed the Harris jawk, quail and hares the day before John so the quail's obviously been around and viewable for a couple of days at least....http://www.uk-wildlife.co.uk/brown-hare-and-quail-at-elmley-marshes/
Farnboro John
Well-known member
Sorry, been standing in the rain watching the airshow.
I went for the QAuail because it had been reported "showing well" on the pager. It has been reported still singing since but not as showing: but the weather has been rubbish and it may be worth trying.
John
I went for the QAuail because it had been reported "showing well" on the pager. It has been reported still singing since but not as showing: but the weather has been rubbish and it may be worth trying.
John
Farnboro John
Well-known member
Hurrah, summer is here at last. I finally made a trip to pit the latest evolution of the night rig against the mighty Greater Horseshoe Bats of Devon.
This was the Mark 4B version utilisong a 70-300 instead of my usual 500mm, to gain a wide field of vision. Photographing flying animals in the dark is no joke.
I started down by the River Dart and had not only masses of GHBs milling about, but Daubenton's Bats, Soprano Pipistrelles and a passing Otter that surfaced a couple of times then vanished completely.
Once the bats dispersed I moved to Church Steps (at about 1100) and had about one GHB every ten minutes coming up the green tunnle of the track from river level to the ruined church. There was also a Red Fox ambling about the approach road.
I gave up at about 0115 and moved to Prawle Point for the remainder of the night. In the morning I had about 20 Cirl Buntings and some showy Stonechats before driving home. Unfortunately sea mist put the knapper on my seawatching plans.
Nevertheless a good trip.
John
This was the Mark 4B version utilisong a 70-300 instead of my usual 500mm, to gain a wide field of vision. Photographing flying animals in the dark is no joke.
I started down by the River Dart and had not only masses of GHBs milling about, but Daubenton's Bats, Soprano Pipistrelles and a passing Otter that surfaced a couple of times then vanished completely.
Once the bats dispersed I moved to Church Steps (at about 1100) and had about one GHB every ten minutes coming up the green tunnle of the track from river level to the ruined church. There was also a Red Fox ambling about the approach road.
I gave up at about 0115 and moved to Prawle Point for the remainder of the night. In the morning I had about 20 Cirl Buntings and some showy Stonechats before driving home. Unfortunately sea mist put the knapper on my seawatching plans.
Nevertheless a good trip.
John
Attachments
JCL
Well-known member
John - is the thinking now that waiting by the church steps, or even the entrance gate to Higher Kiln Quarry is better than sitting on the terrace at Abbey Inn?
James
Farnboro John
Well-known member
It very much depends on what you want from the visit.
If you just want to watch the emergence the terrace is one of the best spots in Britain for a wildlife experience - the beer selection is good and well kept, and the terrace gets you fairly close to the spot from which the bats emerge.
If you are on a photographic mission then the terrace is not the spot, as you will be shooting downwards and sideways at animals rapidly moving across your front and changing altitude as well as their distance from you.
The church steps green tunnel presents a different problem but one that has practical solutions. The bats are on a confined and predictable flight path, the slight issue being that they are coming straight at you/going straight away from you. In the dark you aren't going to autofocus so you will need to be able to prefocus at a particular distance and then judge when the bats reach it. That means either a red light or a night scope, and a lot of practice! You can do some of that by finding a similar green tunnel near home (or even just a line of overhanging trees on one side of a path) used by pips and practicing on them.
The other spot, which I tried for the first time, is on the far side of the river from the pub. Access is across a sheep field, there is a spot where clearly numbers of people have climbed the barbed wire fence but I recommend the gate at the end.From beneath the trees you can find a spot just downstream from the pub terrace (a matter of feet or yards) which puts you perpendicular to the line of flight of the bats. Again you can prefocus at about the right distance but swivelling left to right using a tripod is not too difficult. Lighting is the same issue and a red light or nightscope will be essential.
I haven't tried the quarry entrance, not sure how many bats still use those caves in summer. I was under the impression they are more of a hibernation roost.
I hope this helps!
John
Farnboro John
Well-known member
Forgot to say, don't forget your bat detector, not only is the warbling of the GHBs an amazing sound but it will give you a second or so extra to prepare for GHB coming round the corner of the green tunnel.
John
John
Farnboro John
Well-known member
Followers of this thread should be prepared for momentous news: Clare has finally seen a black Rabbit!
With for once a fine night forecast, we decided to try to kill two birds with one stone, looking for black Rabbits around the Tring reservoirs and then heading the couple of miles over to Wendover for a bash at Edible Dormice.
When I dipped the Sabine's Gull at Startops I saw a black Rabbit in the field opposite, so we started there. Clare found the lapin noir herself , just the far side of the hedge at the back of the roadside field. And that was it. A total nightmare unblocked. I jokingly said that now she would see them everywhere, and we moved on to use the remaining daylight looking for Munjac and Chinese Water Deer. At the first place we stopped there was a black Rabbit nibbling wild flowers on the verge.
We searched several fields for CWD and Muntjac, and Clare got a record shot of the black bunny before it scooted into the taller vegetation. I suggested that we should look up the road beyond it and on doing so we almost immediately found a nicely grazed field - with three more black Rabbits in it!
We hadn't found any deer by the time the sun was setting and at that point we motored over to Wendover Woods to start setting up for Edible Dormice.
Preparing the night rig takes a few minutes but the light faded slowly so it was nearly daylight still as we arrived at the big beech where the track levels out. I had brought some sultanas to throw up into the tree forks in the hope of getting the dormice to sit for portraits in the beech rather than the very twiggy and tangled yews, and managed to get a percentage of them into the right spots as many more fell back, bounced off the trunk and hit me in the face.
Overhead we suddenly heard the bass croak of a Raven, which we didn't see but tracked heading towards Tring by its calls. With everything in place but the woods silent we walked along the track to the next corner as quietly as we could, hoping to surprise a Muntjac on the track.
What we got was a Soprano Pipistrelle feeding in the little glade just beyond the right-hand bend, showing well in the fading light. As we watched that some stuff showered down from the beech behind us(this is a different beech to the other one) and we looked up to see the first Edible Dormouse of the evening scuttling down and overhanging branch and into the Yews on the far side of the path.
It was quite windy and the dormice were not very vocal, which made it very difficult indeed to stay with them. We returned to the nest beech where we thought our best chance of seeing them and photographing them in the open lay. A couple walking their spaniel paused just as one decided to put on a command performance of running about on bare branches and around the trunk of the tree as if gravity was just a word in a dictionary. They were delighted and the lady of the pair actually managed a good view through my nightscope.
Once they had gone we settled down to some serious dormouse hunting but for once I was struggling, with my camera refusing to lock up the autofocus despite fresh batteries in the maglite and perfect boresighting. It took a while to track down the reason which was that the camera battery needed replacing. That done things reverted to normal but I had missed the best poses of the night from the dormice.
We also had views of a male Tawny Owl who turned up on the edge of night and was clealry disgruntled that what he must regard as MacDonalds was staked out by humans. After shouting at us from a tall pine tree for some while he flew off in disgust and the dormice immediately became more vocal.
If you look carefully at the photographs below you can see the Edible Dormouse has one of my sultanas in its mouth, so perhaps they did achieve something.
Eventually both of us felt we had done as well as could be expected given the wind, which was a real impediment. We quit at about 2245 (first emergence had been at about 2120) and were home before midnight.
Notwithstanding the minor difficulties, a good evening out. I recommend checking forecast wind as well as rain before deciding to give them a go.
John
Pix:
With for once a fine night forecast, we decided to try to kill two birds with one stone, looking for black Rabbits around the Tring reservoirs and then heading the couple of miles over to Wendover for a bash at Edible Dormice.
When I dipped the Sabine's Gull at Startops I saw a black Rabbit in the field opposite, so we started there. Clare found the lapin noir herself , just the far side of the hedge at the back of the roadside field. And that was it. A total nightmare unblocked. I jokingly said that now she would see them everywhere, and we moved on to use the remaining daylight looking for Munjac and Chinese Water Deer. At the first place we stopped there was a black Rabbit nibbling wild flowers on the verge.
We searched several fields for CWD and Muntjac, and Clare got a record shot of the black bunny before it scooted into the taller vegetation. I suggested that we should look up the road beyond it and on doing so we almost immediately found a nicely grazed field - with three more black Rabbits in it!
We hadn't found any deer by the time the sun was setting and at that point we motored over to Wendover Woods to start setting up for Edible Dormice.
Preparing the night rig takes a few minutes but the light faded slowly so it was nearly daylight still as we arrived at the big beech where the track levels out. I had brought some sultanas to throw up into the tree forks in the hope of getting the dormice to sit for portraits in the beech rather than the very twiggy and tangled yews, and managed to get a percentage of them into the right spots as many more fell back, bounced off the trunk and hit me in the face.
Overhead we suddenly heard the bass croak of a Raven, which we didn't see but tracked heading towards Tring by its calls. With everything in place but the woods silent we walked along the track to the next corner as quietly as we could, hoping to surprise a Muntjac on the track.
What we got was a Soprano Pipistrelle feeding in the little glade just beyond the right-hand bend, showing well in the fading light. As we watched that some stuff showered down from the beech behind us(this is a different beech to the other one) and we looked up to see the first Edible Dormouse of the evening scuttling down and overhanging branch and into the Yews on the far side of the path.
It was quite windy and the dormice were not very vocal, which made it very difficult indeed to stay with them. We returned to the nest beech where we thought our best chance of seeing them and photographing them in the open lay. A couple walking their spaniel paused just as one decided to put on a command performance of running about on bare branches and around the trunk of the tree as if gravity was just a word in a dictionary. They were delighted and the lady of the pair actually managed a good view through my nightscope.
Once they had gone we settled down to some serious dormouse hunting but for once I was struggling, with my camera refusing to lock up the autofocus despite fresh batteries in the maglite and perfect boresighting. It took a while to track down the reason which was that the camera battery needed replacing. That done things reverted to normal but I had missed the best poses of the night from the dormice.
We also had views of a male Tawny Owl who turned up on the edge of night and was clealry disgruntled that what he must regard as MacDonalds was staked out by humans. After shouting at us from a tall pine tree for some while he flew off in disgust and the dormice immediately became more vocal.
If you look carefully at the photographs below you can see the Edible Dormouse has one of my sultanas in its mouth, so perhaps they did achieve something.
Eventually both of us felt we had done as well as could be expected given the wind, which was a real impediment. We quit at about 2245 (first emergence had been at about 2120) and were home before midnight.
Notwithstanding the minor difficulties, a good evening out. I recommend checking forecast wind as well as rain before deciding to give them a go.
John
Pix:
Attachments
Last edited:
Farnboro John
Well-known member
I recur to the subject of introduced rodents, except that this one has been reintroduced after several hundred years of existing only as the memory of a mediaeval fashion item. (Vision of Wm. Shakespeare considering whether to stick the "nice beaver" joke in his new Scottish play, to counteract the increasing darkness of the script.)
Knapdale has always struck me as remote and to be honest the literature, while professing to keep a welcome in the hillside for passing mammal enthusasts, doesnt really draw you in. Also, the perverse demon in my head that always wants to do the opposite thing, had expressed a wish to see the flourishing Tayside illegal immigrant Beavers rather than the "I've been to Knapdale" stickered ones with a temporary work permit.
I had spent a week going its on-its off-its on-its off, as various bits of news emerged about Scottish populations of European Beaver. before some U-tube videos and gen from Mark set me firmly on the motorway nework heading North on Saturday monring. A simple matter, I thought: bowl up, tick them off and then start considering how many other Scottish bits and bobs I could pick up before returning South. Ha ha. A fox nearly disappeared under my wheels on the way up and of course plenty of Rabbits.
I arrived in the target area to find that I had forgotten my OS map of the place. In the town centre I tried a newsagent (sold out) and was then helped by a local lady whose attractive daughter worked in the estate agents just across the road.An unscheduled session with google maps and the office printer later I was homing in on the relevant section of the River Ericht just East of Rattray. I won't beat about the bush because, as I say, its on U-tube. In fact,I recommend contacting the author of the U-tube clips as Bob Smith is a really top bloke and has all the gen you could possibly need. But I am getting well ahead of myself.
Even with map and directions it took me a little while to orient myself. When I did, I had my usual moment of "how can I find a small nocturnal animal in this huge place?!!" before setting out first to check the minor stream by the road (easily checked from the road) then hiking a couple of miles of the River Ericht itself. I had a brief view of a Water Shrew on the minor stream.
There is a river walk along the main river but the banks are steep, high and clad not only in trees but nettles, brambles, huge stands of Himalayan Balsam and some Rhubarby looking stuff (I'm not a botanist but I gave this a wide berth being suspicious of it). As well as a constantly whining juvenile Buzzard calling constantly but only seen twice, I was privileged to have a flypast from an adult male Goshawk - far too fast for my camera of course, but a nice view.
Actually this began to make me more optimistic. I began to see signs of the beavers' industrious natures: felled trees in the classic form, stripped bark, bulldozed tracks through herbaceous vegetation that I might have supposed were Badger work if they didn't all begin and end in water.
A pair of young lovebirds having a picnic in a secluded spot were surprised but not caught out by the hairy monster shambling through the undergrowth and gave me good directions to a spot where the very attractive young lady had seen the Beavers on Wednesday. I scuttled away feeling better and on reaching the area discovered sizeable trodden down platforms at the top of the river bank, over a stretch of a quarter of a mile. This was real beaver sign: the unmistakable marks of beaver watchers. However, two hours of skulking about mid afternoon only gave me decent prolonged views of two juvenile Dippers and two Pygmy Shrews tumbling over each other and almost my feet, squeaking in fury.
Eventually I decided to zip across to the Loch of the Lowes for a while, returning for the evening session. LoL produced some good views of two Ospreys but no sign of their first record Beaver returning. I did spot some Fallow Deer at the edge of the loch: rather strange coated ones but unmistakable Fallow for all that.
I drove back to the Ericht, moving the car further up the road to make for a shorter walk. Having walked in I discovered there is a parking place way up a woody cart track that leaves a very short walk indeed: too late for that yesterday evening. Setting up on the sand bar where I had photographed the Dippers in the afternoon, I began scanning around and noticed a fellow eager beaver-spotter further along, with a video camera on a tripod. When he started moving between the platforms, I got a bad attack of "he's got something", picked up my gear and scuttled round to meet him.
Actually he hadn't at that point seen anything but since his first words after "hello" were "there's one of the kits now" he became my best friend on the spot. He gave me the full tour, pointing out the lodge, explaining that this pair had four kits but one has disappeared, showing me the places where they haul out and can be photographed... the full Monty. We talked for a while (well, I mostly listened, which as anyone who knows me will tell you, is unusual), but he was really just finishing his evening visit as the light had fallen below what he needed for video. I on the other hand was thinking it wasn't really dark enough for my nightscopes and red light yet... its a funny old game. As he was the local with a personal interest in the particular animals, I asked if he was OK with me using flash: he wasn't bothered and I can report that the Beavers weren't either.
Not long after he left I heard the almost corncrake-like sound of a Beaver gnawing something and quickly found it at the haul-out by one of the auxiliary holes (the lodge is mostly a show home, these Beavers are bank-burrowers.) I got a rubbish shot that showed an adult Beaver on the bank with a kit feeding in the shallows. The adult went off up the bank and I subsequently heard it rooting about and gnawing in the woodland: the kit sat still while I manually focused as well as I could (slightly too far for the red maglite to assist autofocus, possibly because I should have changed the batteries after the dormouse session) and took several shots before just watching it through the nightscope.
Once it had finished its meal it swam off towards the lodge. Not long after that a Water Vole came down to the bank where the Beavers had been and motored about on the surface like a toy boat, looking absolutely diddy compared to the hulking European Beavers. At about 2230 I hadn't seen anything else for a while (apart from an absolute horde of Daubenton's Bats) and had got pix so it was back to the car and a party for one based on lukewarm tea, diet Coke, Hobnobs and my last two egg and tomato sandwiches before another night in the Rover Hotel on the leather mattress.
The alarm went off at 0430 and it was up and out in case the Beavers did an early show (Bob had said they often do) but they decided to have a lie-in. However, an Otter swam past me heading upstream, which was pretty cool. Also I watched a couple of Rabbits making use of the beaver-cleared beaches to come down for a drink and to nibble not only leaves but the exposed ends of beaver-trimmed branches. I got pix of the Rabbits and also of a Sycamore Bob had shown me where the Beavers had part-knawed the trunks and left them (he said) for the next big wind to finish the job.
In fact the local environment was not conspicuously damaged by the Beavers: yes there were trees down, but there wre plenty left and new ones growing up. Bob reckoned much of what they eat in summer at any rate is herbaceous: reeds and bankside plants. Apparently they are keen on cow-parsley, for instance.
By 0830 I was on the road heading home and despite rain and accidents on the M6, home at a sensible time.
Cracking trip with awesome views of brilliant animals and a refreshingly positive experience with lovely people I'd never met who were uniformly very helpful and friendly.
John
Pix:
Beavers
Beach Bunny
Knapdale has always struck me as remote and to be honest the literature, while professing to keep a welcome in the hillside for passing mammal enthusasts, doesnt really draw you in. Also, the perverse demon in my head that always wants to do the opposite thing, had expressed a wish to see the flourishing Tayside illegal immigrant Beavers rather than the "I've been to Knapdale" stickered ones with a temporary work permit.
I had spent a week going its on-its off-its on-its off, as various bits of news emerged about Scottish populations of European Beaver. before some U-tube videos and gen from Mark set me firmly on the motorway nework heading North on Saturday monring. A simple matter, I thought: bowl up, tick them off and then start considering how many other Scottish bits and bobs I could pick up before returning South. Ha ha. A fox nearly disappeared under my wheels on the way up and of course plenty of Rabbits.
I arrived in the target area to find that I had forgotten my OS map of the place. In the town centre I tried a newsagent (sold out) and was then helped by a local lady whose attractive daughter worked in the estate agents just across the road.An unscheduled session with google maps and the office printer later I was homing in on the relevant section of the River Ericht just East of Rattray. I won't beat about the bush because, as I say, its on U-tube. In fact,I recommend contacting the author of the U-tube clips as Bob Smith is a really top bloke and has all the gen you could possibly need. But I am getting well ahead of myself.
Even with map and directions it took me a little while to orient myself. When I did, I had my usual moment of "how can I find a small nocturnal animal in this huge place?!!" before setting out first to check the minor stream by the road (easily checked from the road) then hiking a couple of miles of the River Ericht itself. I had a brief view of a Water Shrew on the minor stream.
There is a river walk along the main river but the banks are steep, high and clad not only in trees but nettles, brambles, huge stands of Himalayan Balsam and some Rhubarby looking stuff (I'm not a botanist but I gave this a wide berth being suspicious of it). As well as a constantly whining juvenile Buzzard calling constantly but only seen twice, I was privileged to have a flypast from an adult male Goshawk - far too fast for my camera of course, but a nice view.
Actually this began to make me more optimistic. I began to see signs of the beavers' industrious natures: felled trees in the classic form, stripped bark, bulldozed tracks through herbaceous vegetation that I might have supposed were Badger work if they didn't all begin and end in water.
A pair of young lovebirds having a picnic in a secluded spot were surprised but not caught out by the hairy monster shambling through the undergrowth and gave me good directions to a spot where the very attractive young lady had seen the Beavers on Wednesday. I scuttled away feeling better and on reaching the area discovered sizeable trodden down platforms at the top of the river bank, over a stretch of a quarter of a mile. This was real beaver sign: the unmistakable marks of beaver watchers. However, two hours of skulking about mid afternoon only gave me decent prolonged views of two juvenile Dippers and two Pygmy Shrews tumbling over each other and almost my feet, squeaking in fury.
Eventually I decided to zip across to the Loch of the Lowes for a while, returning for the evening session. LoL produced some good views of two Ospreys but no sign of their first record Beaver returning. I did spot some Fallow Deer at the edge of the loch: rather strange coated ones but unmistakable Fallow for all that.
I drove back to the Ericht, moving the car further up the road to make for a shorter walk. Having walked in I discovered there is a parking place way up a woody cart track that leaves a very short walk indeed: too late for that yesterday evening. Setting up on the sand bar where I had photographed the Dippers in the afternoon, I began scanning around and noticed a fellow eager beaver-spotter further along, with a video camera on a tripod. When he started moving between the platforms, I got a bad attack of "he's got something", picked up my gear and scuttled round to meet him.
Actually he hadn't at that point seen anything but since his first words after "hello" were "there's one of the kits now" he became my best friend on the spot. He gave me the full tour, pointing out the lodge, explaining that this pair had four kits but one has disappeared, showing me the places where they haul out and can be photographed... the full Monty. We talked for a while (well, I mostly listened, which as anyone who knows me will tell you, is unusual), but he was really just finishing his evening visit as the light had fallen below what he needed for video. I on the other hand was thinking it wasn't really dark enough for my nightscopes and red light yet... its a funny old game. As he was the local with a personal interest in the particular animals, I asked if he was OK with me using flash: he wasn't bothered and I can report that the Beavers weren't either.
Not long after he left I heard the almost corncrake-like sound of a Beaver gnawing something and quickly found it at the haul-out by one of the auxiliary holes (the lodge is mostly a show home, these Beavers are bank-burrowers.) I got a rubbish shot that showed an adult Beaver on the bank with a kit feeding in the shallows. The adult went off up the bank and I subsequently heard it rooting about and gnawing in the woodland: the kit sat still while I manually focused as well as I could (slightly too far for the red maglite to assist autofocus, possibly because I should have changed the batteries after the dormouse session) and took several shots before just watching it through the nightscope.
Once it had finished its meal it swam off towards the lodge. Not long after that a Water Vole came down to the bank where the Beavers had been and motored about on the surface like a toy boat, looking absolutely diddy compared to the hulking European Beavers. At about 2230 I hadn't seen anything else for a while (apart from an absolute horde of Daubenton's Bats) and had got pix so it was back to the car and a party for one based on lukewarm tea, diet Coke, Hobnobs and my last two egg and tomato sandwiches before another night in the Rover Hotel on the leather mattress.
The alarm went off at 0430 and it was up and out in case the Beavers did an early show (Bob had said they often do) but they decided to have a lie-in. However, an Otter swam past me heading upstream, which was pretty cool. Also I watched a couple of Rabbits making use of the beaver-cleared beaches to come down for a drink and to nibble not only leaves but the exposed ends of beaver-trimmed branches. I got pix of the Rabbits and also of a Sycamore Bob had shown me where the Beavers had part-knawed the trunks and left them (he said) for the next big wind to finish the job.
In fact the local environment was not conspicuously damaged by the Beavers: yes there were trees down, but there wre plenty left and new ones growing up. Bob reckoned much of what they eat in summer at any rate is herbaceous: reeds and bankside plants. Apparently they are keen on cow-parsley, for instance.
By 0830 I was on the road heading home and despite rain and accidents on the M6, home at a sensible time.
Cracking trip with awesome views of brilliant animals and a refreshingly positive experience with lovely people I'd never met who were uniformly very helpful and friendly.
John
Pix:
Beavers
Beach Bunny
Attachments
Last edited:
Farnboro John
Well-known member
Must have been a great experience John. Another on the list of future trips!
As promised an update on Friday's cetacean survey I joined off the Welsh coast.
3 porpoises, dozens of common dolphins and a single minke whale seen. Also blue shark & ocean sunfish. No sightings yet this year of fin whales but sad to see one is being put down tonight on a Cornish beach after stranding.
Common dolphin & calf photo attached.
As promised an update on Friday's cetacean survey I joined off the Welsh coast.
3 porpoises, dozens of common dolphins and a single minke whale seen. Also blue shark & ocean sunfish. No sightings yet this year of fin whales but sad to see one is being put down tonight on a Cornish beach after stranding.
Common dolphin & calf photo attached.
Attachments
Farnboro John
Well-known member
All say aaaah!
Great pic James.
John
Great pic James.
John
Habitat largely dictates whether burrow or lodge is used I believe. Most beavers I know in ditches and wide rivers live in burrows, those in self-flooded hollows lacking banks build lodges. I have mioonster size lodges on my land.
They are a pain in the arse for doing this, I don't believe they are thinking of wind, but just give up for some reason (maybe not tasty?)
Give them time, they can totally devastate woodland at a local level, both through direct removal of trees and wholescale flooding on areas leading to trees dying.
Almost no trees nibbled down in summer, they are indeed herbaceous. Tree downing is to store food under water for winter slumber time, especially in zones where ice will exclude possibilities to feed above water for many months. Tens of trees can go per week to active pairs.
PS if UK wants any more beavers, please feel free to come and take all on my land.
Farnboro John
Well-known member
First point you are probably correct. Bob said they don't eat Sycamore but use it as building material. Interestingly they have closed off a couple of Otter holts with logs.
I have a sense that your land is flattish? In hillier areas landscape will limit what they can flood - and flash flooding may well periodically destroy their civil engineering.
Ice Ages not frequent in Scotland.
Perhaps we can have your Beavers when we repopulate England.
Now get on with your trip report - I am agog for the cats etc....
John
Farnboro John
Well-known member
On Saturday I had an overnight trip to the Isle of Wight, in search of my last breeding bat species: Grey Long-eared. I was armed with a site but well aware that this one was not "nailed on". However, the weather conditions appeared optimal with blazing sunshine, high temperatures and little or no wind. I went on via the ferry from Portsmouth, which was running a bit late due to exceptionally low tides and (according to a teller) particularly stupid grockles. I had very little from the boat, a few Common Terns and a single juvenile Black Tern being the pick of the bunch. Once on the island I headed for Alverstone Meads and spent a happy half hour with two glorious Red Squirrels, one as red all over as my hair used to be, the other distinctly and distinctively black-tailed.
Soon I decided to move on to check out my bat site with a bit of light left. As I drove away from Alverstone the consequences of heat, absence of wind and an island came to roost: a bank of sea mist rolled in. Bum.
I found the place and had a wander round. It was immediately apparent that this was going to be hard. It was only a feeding stop for the bats - they take almost exclusively large flying insect prey and prefer to hang up to eat it - and it looked as if the slatted wooden roof was where they dived in and out. I had been hoping for them using the wooden high-peaked porch but that had a door and windows instead of the open work I had expected.
I revised my plans and set up with a shorter lens with a wider field of view, focused generally on the roof slats. As the sky darkened only a few moths came out, and this continued throughout the session, probably due to the mist. Bats began to flick past my ear but seeing them proved almost impossible despite efforts with the naked eye, nightscope and red maglite on a wide setting, even with the couple of seconds notice my bat detector gave me.
A couple of times the calls cut off instead of fading out and I guessed these were bats hanging up to feed - but I wasn't seeing them going in and out and consequently had not chance of getting pix to check ID from.
Getting fed up I went to look at the porch. I couldn't see a lock on the door, which I now saw had metal grilles instead of windows and the grilles were ill-fitting. I tried it and it opened, so I slipped into the porch and scanned the planks and rafters with my nightscope. A bat! A Long-eared Bat, at that. Heart pounding with sudden adrenaline, I focused carefully. Dark face, dark tragus. This is the boy (or girl, I didn't sex it) all right. I turned to fetch my camera and clumsily kicked the door. I felt rather than saw the Grey Long-eared Bat go past me. You may imagine for yourselves what words go here.
Obviously I hung around for a long time afterwards but although I heard a few passes on the detector and checked the porch a few times I had no further luck. Perhaps I had used it all up, I certainly had no room to complain.
Eventually I decided to go and have a look at the landslip that cuts off the old Blackgang Road, which is also a Grey Long-eared Bat feeding area, but it was midnight and when I arrived there were seven cars in the car park. Perhaps as a mammal watcher I shouldn't say this but I decided not to either leave the car there unattended or risk my own fragile body around a probable bunch of weirdos.
On the way to the car park I had a Brown Rat run across the road and then a young Badger trotted up the road in front of me for some distance before turning off down a track.
Having pretty much exhausted the possibilities for the night, I decided to make the move to Yarmouth to wait for the 0430 ferry off. When I reached the terminal, a Wightlink employee cheerfully informed me that they were now running so late that the last ferry of the evening hadn't yet arrived much less departed, so I could take that if I liked.
Thus it was that I parked up at Lower Pennington Lane at about 0200 and slept till the rising sun woke me at about 0600. With the mist thinner here but not absent it all looked rather ethereal and pretty, so I staggered out of the Rover hotel and took up my camera to photograph the sunrise.
Once up I thought I might as well take advantage of the early light, kitted myself up and set off towards the sea. The Shoveler pools had a couple of very flighty Wood Sandpipers, some Redshanks and Dunlin and a few Teal. There were lots of Willow Warblers and a few Redstarts moving through the bushes.
I took the path along the base of the seawall and got some nice pix of Black-tailed Godwits before moving along to stake out the Curlew Sandpipers that were at the back of their lagoon. They worked their way forward and I got a few pix, then for no apparent reason they shot off.
I continued to the corner of the seawall, where a good few Med Gulls were in with the Black-heads, and scanned the mud and fingers of advancing tide.Among the Redshanks and Turnstones a Greenshank, a Little Stint and another Wood Sandpiper that just fell out of the sky prodded at and scuttled on the ooze.
Only a juvenile Ringed Plover deigned to come within reach of my lens, however, and as the sun began to scorch I made my way back to the Shoveler pools, where initially I was insulted almost to the point of violence. A photographer with a Sigma 150-500 was on top of the bank (there are notices saying don't stand up there) so I walked up and asked "what have you got?" - standard birder parlance I think you will agree.
The answer that came back was "I don't know, till I get home, same as you." Same as who? How very dare you! You twonk, just cos you either can't ID birds or judge your pix on the back of your camera, don't assume I can't either! Well, I don't know when I've ever been so....
It turned out that he couldn't ID birds to save his life. First he tried to string a Redshank into a Ruff, then he thought two Dunlin were Curlew Sandpipers and finally he wanted a Teal to be a Garganey. It is possible that a trace of relish crept into my corrections as he didn't stay much longer. I hope his results were better than his ability to caption them.
I settled myself low on the bank, overshadowed by brambles, and prepared for a long wait for a careless Wood Sandpiper.
Unfortunately not only one plonker was stalking the marshes Grendel-like on this fine morning. Two birdwatchers (bright clothing and cheap bins ruled out use of the word "birder") saw me lurking and sprang lightly up onto the bank, flushing every wader from the pools, and asked what I was watching. "Nothing", I replied a little sourly as every wader disappeared over the bank at the back. With nothing to look at, they continued towards the sea.
The next lot I actually didn't mind. They were grockles and none the worse for that. I found a child at my elbow who standing up was the same height as me sitting slumped. He regarded me gravely and then said "I've got a pair of binocularses." Why do so many kids not know how to stop saying binoculars? I laughed inwardly and asked where they were. They were at home. "That's no good, you need them with you." Yes. He turned and trotted back down the bank and after his family. Maybe he will remember.
Unfortunately the last lot were back to form - but they were only on the fringe of knowing what birds were and showed an interest, and they even apologised for flushing things before I could remark on it. Pretty good.
After they had gone, the waders had a general reorganise and I finally got some not quite awful Wood Sand pictures, as well as some of the real Ruff. It was nearly midday and I remembered that the Night Heron had still been present the previous day. I keep month lists and wasn't sure if Night Heron was an August tick, so I popped into the fishing ponds on my way out and clocked it through someone else's scope. BTW it was an August tick.
The New Forest is no joke on a hot day in summer, the roads are as full of terror as the coast. Despite bicycles, slow drivers, erratic drivers, ponies and cows I made it to Bolderwood in one piece by something after 1300, and having checked there were some Fallow Deer about, decided to wait for feeding time.
It was hot but under the trees not unbearable. The crowd was genial and we did get occasional distant views of the deer, including a hugely antlered buck that powered through the bracken to find a cool spot in the woodland edge to lie down and try to endure the flies.
The warden with the sack of nuts rocked up after 1400 and the deer were on the food immediately, giving great views. The bucks had completed removing their velvet and the bare antlers gleamed in the sun, while their full summer spotty coats were in peak condition. Most were standard colour, with a scattering of menil (pale) and only one near-white brocket.
As the deer dispersed having gorged themselves, I began to feel the effects of the past twenty-four hours and made for home where Marion greeted me with ready-cooled beer from the fridge. What a woman.
Pix later.
John
Soon I decided to move on to check out my bat site with a bit of light left. As I drove away from Alverstone the consequences of heat, absence of wind and an island came to roost: a bank of sea mist rolled in. Bum.
I found the place and had a wander round. It was immediately apparent that this was going to be hard. It was only a feeding stop for the bats - they take almost exclusively large flying insect prey and prefer to hang up to eat it - and it looked as if the slatted wooden roof was where they dived in and out. I had been hoping for them using the wooden high-peaked porch but that had a door and windows instead of the open work I had expected.
I revised my plans and set up with a shorter lens with a wider field of view, focused generally on the roof slats. As the sky darkened only a few moths came out, and this continued throughout the session, probably due to the mist. Bats began to flick past my ear but seeing them proved almost impossible despite efforts with the naked eye, nightscope and red maglite on a wide setting, even with the couple of seconds notice my bat detector gave me.
A couple of times the calls cut off instead of fading out and I guessed these were bats hanging up to feed - but I wasn't seeing them going in and out and consequently had not chance of getting pix to check ID from.
Getting fed up I went to look at the porch. I couldn't see a lock on the door, which I now saw had metal grilles instead of windows and the grilles were ill-fitting. I tried it and it opened, so I slipped into the porch and scanned the planks and rafters with my nightscope. A bat! A Long-eared Bat, at that. Heart pounding with sudden adrenaline, I focused carefully. Dark face, dark tragus. This is the boy (or girl, I didn't sex it) all right. I turned to fetch my camera and clumsily kicked the door. I felt rather than saw the Grey Long-eared Bat go past me. You may imagine for yourselves what words go here.
Obviously I hung around for a long time afterwards but although I heard a few passes on the detector and checked the porch a few times I had no further luck. Perhaps I had used it all up, I certainly had no room to complain.
Eventually I decided to go and have a look at the landslip that cuts off the old Blackgang Road, which is also a Grey Long-eared Bat feeding area, but it was midnight and when I arrived there were seven cars in the car park. Perhaps as a mammal watcher I shouldn't say this but I decided not to either leave the car there unattended or risk my own fragile body around a probable bunch of weirdos.
On the way to the car park I had a Brown Rat run across the road and then a young Badger trotted up the road in front of me for some distance before turning off down a track.
Having pretty much exhausted the possibilities for the night, I decided to make the move to Yarmouth to wait for the 0430 ferry off. When I reached the terminal, a Wightlink employee cheerfully informed me that they were now running so late that the last ferry of the evening hadn't yet arrived much less departed, so I could take that if I liked.
Thus it was that I parked up at Lower Pennington Lane at about 0200 and slept till the rising sun woke me at about 0600. With the mist thinner here but not absent it all looked rather ethereal and pretty, so I staggered out of the Rover hotel and took up my camera to photograph the sunrise.
Once up I thought I might as well take advantage of the early light, kitted myself up and set off towards the sea. The Shoveler pools had a couple of very flighty Wood Sandpipers, some Redshanks and Dunlin and a few Teal. There were lots of Willow Warblers and a few Redstarts moving through the bushes.
I took the path along the base of the seawall and got some nice pix of Black-tailed Godwits before moving along to stake out the Curlew Sandpipers that were at the back of their lagoon. They worked their way forward and I got a few pix, then for no apparent reason they shot off.
I continued to the corner of the seawall, where a good few Med Gulls were in with the Black-heads, and scanned the mud and fingers of advancing tide.Among the Redshanks and Turnstones a Greenshank, a Little Stint and another Wood Sandpiper that just fell out of the sky prodded at and scuttled on the ooze.
Only a juvenile Ringed Plover deigned to come within reach of my lens, however, and as the sun began to scorch I made my way back to the Shoveler pools, where initially I was insulted almost to the point of violence. A photographer with a Sigma 150-500 was on top of the bank (there are notices saying don't stand up there) so I walked up and asked "what have you got?" - standard birder parlance I think you will agree.
The answer that came back was "I don't know, till I get home, same as you." Same as who? How very dare you! You twonk, just cos you either can't ID birds or judge your pix on the back of your camera, don't assume I can't either! Well, I don't know when I've ever been so....
It turned out that he couldn't ID birds to save his life. First he tried to string a Redshank into a Ruff, then he thought two Dunlin were Curlew Sandpipers and finally he wanted a Teal to be a Garganey. It is possible that a trace of relish crept into my corrections as he didn't stay much longer. I hope his results were better than his ability to caption them.
I settled myself low on the bank, overshadowed by brambles, and prepared for a long wait for a careless Wood Sandpiper.
Unfortunately not only one plonker was stalking the marshes Grendel-like on this fine morning. Two birdwatchers (bright clothing and cheap bins ruled out use of the word "birder") saw me lurking and sprang lightly up onto the bank, flushing every wader from the pools, and asked what I was watching. "Nothing", I replied a little sourly as every wader disappeared over the bank at the back. With nothing to look at, they continued towards the sea.
The next lot I actually didn't mind. They were grockles and none the worse for that. I found a child at my elbow who standing up was the same height as me sitting slumped. He regarded me gravely and then said "I've got a pair of binocularses." Why do so many kids not know how to stop saying binoculars? I laughed inwardly and asked where they were. They were at home. "That's no good, you need them with you." Yes. He turned and trotted back down the bank and after his family. Maybe he will remember.
Unfortunately the last lot were back to form - but they were only on the fringe of knowing what birds were and showed an interest, and they even apologised for flushing things before I could remark on it. Pretty good.
After they had gone, the waders had a general reorganise and I finally got some not quite awful Wood Sand pictures, as well as some of the real Ruff. It was nearly midday and I remembered that the Night Heron had still been present the previous day. I keep month lists and wasn't sure if Night Heron was an August tick, so I popped into the fishing ponds on my way out and clocked it through someone else's scope. BTW it was an August tick.
The New Forest is no joke on a hot day in summer, the roads are as full of terror as the coast. Despite bicycles, slow drivers, erratic drivers, ponies and cows I made it to Bolderwood in one piece by something after 1300, and having checked there were some Fallow Deer about, decided to wait for feeding time.
It was hot but under the trees not unbearable. The crowd was genial and we did get occasional distant views of the deer, including a hugely antlered buck that powered through the bracken to find a cool spot in the woodland edge to lie down and try to endure the flies.
The warden with the sack of nuts rocked up after 1400 and the deer were on the food immediately, giving great views. The bucks had completed removing their velvet and the bare antlers gleamed in the sun, while their full summer spotty coats were in peak condition. Most were standard colour, with a scattering of menil (pale) and only one near-white brocket.
As the deer dispersed having gorged themselves, I began to feel the effects of the past twenty-four hours and made for home where Marion greeted me with ready-cooled beer from the fridge. What a woman.
Pix later.
John
Last edited:
Farnboro John
Well-known member
