Farnboro John
Well-known member
I was tempted beyond redemption yesterday by the male white-spotted Bluethroat at Weston on Portland. It had shown well on Saturday so, despite trepidation about the clear night, I was on the road as early as a night on the beer would allow.
When I parked on Weston Street some satisfied-looking birders were having a cup of tea. They confirmed the bird was still present and showing well: I made for the site without bothering to grab a sandwich. Bowl up and tick, get pix and onwards!
Hollow laugh. On reaching the area I could see two distinct groups of birders both of whom seemed to be concentrating on something they could see - but not the same thing. One lot were looking almost in my direction so I proceeded with extreme caution to avoid treading on the Bluethroat. In fact the bird had disappeared into the hedge and I was able to join the nearest group without causing issues.
I managed some fairly distant views and pix as the bird moved backwards and forwards along a long line of manure piles. Unfortunately it rapidly became more elusive as an over-enthusiastic birder scuttled after its every appearance, always going closer than everyone else to compensate for his rather small camera lens.
Two or three Black Redstarts including a spanking male were bouncing about in the field behind the Bluethroat's territory and one of them eventually crossed the fenceline and landed behind us. As the sprinter came out of the blocks I told him to stop chasing birds around and wait for them to come to him. This didn't stop him trying to stick his lens up their cloacas but it did moderate his approach speed and we began to get better views of the Bluethroat again.
There was a regular turn-over of birders as they each got what they felt were decent views, while a core of birder/photographers waited patiently for the Bluethroat to settle sufficiently to give us the point-blank views at the puddles on the track that it had been providing the previous day. Several of the new arrivals proved to be impatient.
One particularly tall chap ignored the fact that there were two crowds each staying back from the track where we all hoped the bird would perform, marched straight up to its favourite puddle and set up an utterly redundant scope, presumably to analyse any parasites crawling through its feathers. A mutter from out of sight suggested there was another birder on the far side of the bramble bush in the impromptu horse paddock delimited by a yellow tape fence. I slipped between the tapes, went round the back of the bush and held a deliberately over-loud conversation with this birder, who was justifiably annoyed that the tall guy had stopped both right in front of him and right on the place we all expected the Bluethroat to show best.
I asked the sensible birder whether he had asked the numpty to move, which he confirmed and added that no reaction had been forthcoming. I remarked that it was amazing how some idiots failed to draw correct conclusions from others' behaviour, and how little fieldcraft some people possessed, not to mention the lack of consideration for both birders and bird. At this point the idiot looked round, so I quickly called "Yes, you!" at which he looked away again. At least we now knew his hearing was not impaired.
I returned to the crowd and we all laughed as the man attempted to shuffle backwards away from the bird and pushed up against the tape fence, exerting increasing pressure on it until presumably even he realised how absurd he looked and stepped backwards over it, retreating into the "paddock" until lost to our view behind the brambles.
Further diversion was provided by a horsey person in pink wellingtons (its OK, it was a girl) who attempted to pull a recalcitrant pony around the paddock to places it clearly didn't want to go, until it and its stablemate lost patience and charged through the tapes onto the track with said girl clinging desperately to its halter. She then demonstrated why multi-tasking doesn't work as she attempted simultaneously to stand the fence posts up again, hold her horses and carry on on a conversation on her mobile phone.
A while later a new perpetrator had joined the Bluethroat Bad Boyz. This one specialised in setting up his scope in front of others and walking into the bird's feeding area. After several acid "Excuse me!" calls from offended birders, he reacted to the news that the bird could be seen under the back of the hedge from the track back to the road by trying to walk right up to our side of the hedge (right where the bird would appear when it came back through the hedge to our side!) at which point he got both barrels from me and retreated reluctantly but finally.
I should mention that I also had a very brief and positive exchange with a well known Taunton birder who was trying to get an idea of the view along the bird's patrol area, but of course it was low key, amicable and he moved at once. At least he turned over part of the dung heap with his boots, potentially improving its feeding value to the Bluethroat and to the horde of Chiffchaffs hopping round our feet wondering why on earth they hadn't stayed in Africa.
Anyway enough of this. Suffice it to say that I had to wait breakfastless and frozen into a large lump of ice for over four hours before the Bluethroat first undertook what amounted to a strip-tease routine showing one bit of it at a time and repeatedly pretending it was going to hop totally into view then diving completely into cover, then eventually came right out and performed around a puddle. It was a fantastic bird and a fantastic view, and finally I have nice pix of a spring male Bluethroat.
From there I drove round the corner to the horse paddock where two Ring Ouzels were showing well. At this point I have to admit that at the Bluethroat site two of us grilled a fairly elderly birder quite hard over his claim that they were showing to twenty yards, which we didn't believe and which in fact he modified under severe obvious pressure to maybe thirty or forty yards. If he's reading this I completely apologise because they were indeed showing down to twenty yards and a mere couple of hours got me my best ever Ring Ouzel photos.
After this I decided enough was enough and after a quick look at the Obs quarry in case the Little Owl was showing (it wasn't but I scored another Black Redstart for the day) I drove back through Weymouth (past Ferrybridge where this morning of course there is a Kentish Plover), grabbed Spoonbill for the year and set off for Arne to finish the day photographing the easy Sikas.
The roads were full of those whose accelerators are locked below 30 mph even in 60 limits and weird people in Mercs driving in the outside lane of dual carriageways at 50 when there is no traffic AT ALL except the birder sitting behind them waiting to overtake.
At Arne I fully expected to walk down, take photos and walk back without any pause in proceedings. I had reckoned without the family yodelling their dog's name all over the reserve and it has to be said when a fairly elderly woman asked me if I had seen said animal she got her head fairly severely bitten off without me asking for the facts. Further down I met more of the family who, on me asking still quite curtly why the dog was loose in the first place, explained that the dog had slipped his lead for the first time ever and they were quite worried because they had no wish to cause problems for wildlife on a walk they did regularly.
Accidents do happen, and I was appeased: but the result was that the Sikas had retired into the woods and I couldn't see them. Even a search round Shipstal Point didn't reveal any, but as the sounds of the search receded some of the deer emerged onto open areas of heath and I had time to get pix before hurrying back to get the car out of the RSPB car park before 1900 closing time. I hope they found the dog.
An easy run home closed a long day with some real highlights.
John
When I parked on Weston Street some satisfied-looking birders were having a cup of tea. They confirmed the bird was still present and showing well: I made for the site without bothering to grab a sandwich. Bowl up and tick, get pix and onwards!
Hollow laugh. On reaching the area I could see two distinct groups of birders both of whom seemed to be concentrating on something they could see - but not the same thing. One lot were looking almost in my direction so I proceeded with extreme caution to avoid treading on the Bluethroat. In fact the bird had disappeared into the hedge and I was able to join the nearest group without causing issues.
I managed some fairly distant views and pix as the bird moved backwards and forwards along a long line of manure piles. Unfortunately it rapidly became more elusive as an over-enthusiastic birder scuttled after its every appearance, always going closer than everyone else to compensate for his rather small camera lens.
Two or three Black Redstarts including a spanking male were bouncing about in the field behind the Bluethroat's territory and one of them eventually crossed the fenceline and landed behind us. As the sprinter came out of the blocks I told him to stop chasing birds around and wait for them to come to him. This didn't stop him trying to stick his lens up their cloacas but it did moderate his approach speed and we began to get better views of the Bluethroat again.
There was a regular turn-over of birders as they each got what they felt were decent views, while a core of birder/photographers waited patiently for the Bluethroat to settle sufficiently to give us the point-blank views at the puddles on the track that it had been providing the previous day. Several of the new arrivals proved to be impatient.
One particularly tall chap ignored the fact that there were two crowds each staying back from the track where we all hoped the bird would perform, marched straight up to its favourite puddle and set up an utterly redundant scope, presumably to analyse any parasites crawling through its feathers. A mutter from out of sight suggested there was another birder on the far side of the bramble bush in the impromptu horse paddock delimited by a yellow tape fence. I slipped between the tapes, went round the back of the bush and held a deliberately over-loud conversation with this birder, who was justifiably annoyed that the tall guy had stopped both right in front of him and right on the place we all expected the Bluethroat to show best.
I asked the sensible birder whether he had asked the numpty to move, which he confirmed and added that no reaction had been forthcoming. I remarked that it was amazing how some idiots failed to draw correct conclusions from others' behaviour, and how little fieldcraft some people possessed, not to mention the lack of consideration for both birders and bird. At this point the idiot looked round, so I quickly called "Yes, you!" at which he looked away again. At least we now knew his hearing was not impaired.
I returned to the crowd and we all laughed as the man attempted to shuffle backwards away from the bird and pushed up against the tape fence, exerting increasing pressure on it until presumably even he realised how absurd he looked and stepped backwards over it, retreating into the "paddock" until lost to our view behind the brambles.
Further diversion was provided by a horsey person in pink wellingtons (its OK, it was a girl) who attempted to pull a recalcitrant pony around the paddock to places it clearly didn't want to go, until it and its stablemate lost patience and charged through the tapes onto the track with said girl clinging desperately to its halter. She then demonstrated why multi-tasking doesn't work as she attempted simultaneously to stand the fence posts up again, hold her horses and carry on on a conversation on her mobile phone.
A while later a new perpetrator had joined the Bluethroat Bad Boyz. This one specialised in setting up his scope in front of others and walking into the bird's feeding area. After several acid "Excuse me!" calls from offended birders, he reacted to the news that the bird could be seen under the back of the hedge from the track back to the road by trying to walk right up to our side of the hedge (right where the bird would appear when it came back through the hedge to our side!) at which point he got both barrels from me and retreated reluctantly but finally.
I should mention that I also had a very brief and positive exchange with a well known Taunton birder who was trying to get an idea of the view along the bird's patrol area, but of course it was low key, amicable and he moved at once. At least he turned over part of the dung heap with his boots, potentially improving its feeding value to the Bluethroat and to the horde of Chiffchaffs hopping round our feet wondering why on earth they hadn't stayed in Africa.
Anyway enough of this. Suffice it to say that I had to wait breakfastless and frozen into a large lump of ice for over four hours before the Bluethroat first undertook what amounted to a strip-tease routine showing one bit of it at a time and repeatedly pretending it was going to hop totally into view then diving completely into cover, then eventually came right out and performed around a puddle. It was a fantastic bird and a fantastic view, and finally I have nice pix of a spring male Bluethroat.
From there I drove round the corner to the horse paddock where two Ring Ouzels were showing well. At this point I have to admit that at the Bluethroat site two of us grilled a fairly elderly birder quite hard over his claim that they were showing to twenty yards, which we didn't believe and which in fact he modified under severe obvious pressure to maybe thirty or forty yards. If he's reading this I completely apologise because they were indeed showing down to twenty yards and a mere couple of hours got me my best ever Ring Ouzel photos.
After this I decided enough was enough and after a quick look at the Obs quarry in case the Little Owl was showing (it wasn't but I scored another Black Redstart for the day) I drove back through Weymouth (past Ferrybridge where this morning of course there is a Kentish Plover), grabbed Spoonbill for the year and set off for Arne to finish the day photographing the easy Sikas.
The roads were full of those whose accelerators are locked below 30 mph even in 60 limits and weird people in Mercs driving in the outside lane of dual carriageways at 50 when there is no traffic AT ALL except the birder sitting behind them waiting to overtake.
At Arne I fully expected to walk down, take photos and walk back without any pause in proceedings. I had reckoned without the family yodelling their dog's name all over the reserve and it has to be said when a fairly elderly woman asked me if I had seen said animal she got her head fairly severely bitten off without me asking for the facts. Further down I met more of the family who, on me asking still quite curtly why the dog was loose in the first place, explained that the dog had slipped his lead for the first time ever and they were quite worried because they had no wish to cause problems for wildlife on a walk they did regularly.
Accidents do happen, and I was appeased: but the result was that the Sikas had retired into the woods and I couldn't see them. Even a search round Shipstal Point didn't reveal any, but as the sounds of the search receded some of the deer emerged onto open areas of heath and I had time to get pix before hurrying back to get the car out of the RSPB car park before 1900 closing time. I hope they found the dog.
An easy run home closed a long day with some real highlights.
John
Last edited:
