A Tale About Storks – part 7
It is mid-June already, and it has been a bit of a struggle to keep up with this tale for the past 6 weeks. Mainly due to the atrocious weather with endless rain and strong winds. I haven’t been on my bike all this time, and the month of May was officially noted down as the warmest but also the wettest month of May ever recorded. The land is drenched, the rivers are full, and the storks are having a hard time rearing their babies.
There was an urgency to check out the nests, so on one of the last days of May - a fairly windy, but dry day with a bit of intermittent sun - I took the car to check out my second-most favourite stork nest. Situated right next to a bend in the narrow cobble-stone road that passes through the tiny hamlet of Geelbroek (some nine kilometres south of Assen) this well-known and popular pole nest offers the closest view of any nests in the neighbourhood. It is a gorgeous, picturesque spot in an old and rich meadow landscape, with a space to park your car and even a picnic bench.
On the way there, I drove past nest number two (see part 1), the one in front of the farmstead. Three half-grown youngsters were crowding the nest; one of their parents was perched on the rim of the nest, keeping a lofty eye on its lively brood. It looked rather full, with not a lot of space to spare, and it was difficult to distinguish the individual birds in amongst all those feathers, heads and bodies. The young ones have black, instead of orange bills, so that helps at least. Later, I heard that there are actually four youngsters on this nest!
Just before rounding the last bend in the road coming up to my second-most favourite stork nest, I spotted a sight in the green field on my right that made me hit the brakes. Parking on the verge, I got out with my binoculars and stared with some excitement at a proper muster of fifteen foraging storks at the far end of the field. Fifteen! I’d never seen so many together all at once before. There was a tree-lined track running along the side of the field, so I quietly walked to the far end, thinking I could get a closer look at them. They weren’t having it though. The moment I calmly stuck my head around the last tree, they took off, one after the other. I had not expected them to be that weary, and immediately felt guilty for having disturbed them. They had looked so peaceful going about their business. I was relieved, therefore, to see them all coming back within minutes after I had returned to my car.
Arriving at the stork nest, I saw one adult bird. It took off the moment I got out of the car. Usually the birds on this nest don’t pay any attention whatsoever to anyone who stops to look at them. Year after year, they patiently put up with all of us gawking admirers, and I was a bit taken aback by its quick departure. There were no stork babies in sight. Hmmm, I thought, that’s odd. I could not even detect a single sign of life within the nest. I had forgotten how big and deep this particular nest actually is. Just my luck, I thought disappointedly. I waited for the parent bird to return, in the hope the youngsters would stand up to greet it when it did. I waited ten minutes, and then left to come back another day.
The day stayed fairly nice, so I decided I would walk the 6-kilometre trail that I had seen sign posted a year ago whilst on a cycling trip through the area. At the time, I was coming through what is called ‘Hart van Drenthe’: a dynamic nature reserve with extensive forests, dozens of fens and sweeping heathlands, all within the boundaries of the National Park Drentsche Aa. The NP’s website tells you that the expanse, tranquility, and variety of landscape of this nature reserve have enabled flora and fauna to flourish to such an extent these days that even the wolf has recently settled in the area! Passing a small parking area along the forest cycling path I was on at the time, I had noticed a large information board, displaying this 6 km. walking trail. It looked interesting, so I had stored it in my mind for a later date.
It took me a while to find this little car park in the forest again. It’s not the same when you are following cycling routes, crisscrossing all over the place, and then having to find a particular spot back by car a year later, but I eventually found it. Convinced as I was, for it looked just like I remembered it. The only thing glaringly missing, though, was the large trail information board. Further inspection did not produce a marked trail post anywhere either. Huh!? Oh no, that will just be me again! I grumbled. I don’t believe it! It’s taken me forty minutes driving up and down country lanes to find this place, and now my trail’s disappeared!
I was not amused. I was quite baffled actually. I had recognized the road name, I had recognized the rather strange turn-off, and I had noted the cycling sign being the correct one at the beginning of the path. I checked Google maps again: it couldn’t be other than the right spot. A broad forest path led off from the car park. I might as well see where that goes to, I thought, refusing to give in. A short distance along, a narrow trail veered off to the left. It had no indication whatsoever about a 6 km trail, so I passed it by. Better safe than sorry, I thought wryly, and continued straight on. The path skirted the edge of a mixed, fairly open forest. Young trees, mature trees, broad-leaved trees, fir trees, shrubs of all kind, woodland flowers in small open patches, a bit of water-logged terrain. Fields on the other side. The sun flitted in and out, song birds all around. It was obviously not my 6 km trail, but it was pleasant enough.
Being still in the process of getting used to my binoculars, I was purposefully trying it out on anything small: a twig, a single leaf, an insect. Noticing that I have to correct a little to the left each time that I think I am aiming it straight at something. Lack of experience makes it hard for me to find any tree-perched bird smaller than a blackbird, so I was practicing on that as well. Passing a stand of coniferous trees next to the path, I was pretty pleased therefore to pick out, follow and watch for some time a handful of crested tits being very busy with their lives. They made me smile; pretty little things they are.
The path never veered off from its straight course, and eventually terminated at a small road. Having no interest in aimlessly wandering about, I turned around and walked the same way back. A song thrush hopped along the path as I tried (but failed) to spot more little birds hiding away in the canopy. I was starting to feel a bit forlorn due to my lack of success, when suddenly a barrage of loud, high-pitched screams shattered the calm air. A large bird of prey for sure, was loudly proclaiming its presence near a fair-sized copse of tall coniferous trees on the far side of a small field. It sounded air-born, but I couldn’t see it flying anywhere. I looked for a high-perched, large nest in amongst the tall fir trees, but couldn’t find one. The copse being just a little too dark, too dense, and too big to get a clear look at it all.
Even though I had never heard that sound before, the answer popped into my head just like that: that must be a goshawk! A near forgotten memory of a walk with my brother in a very similar open forest flashed through my mind. Passing a scattered heap of plucked feathers on the forest floor, he had not only told me about the feeding habits of goshawks (Accipiter gentilis), but also about their preference for living and hunting in open, mixed forests. Just like the forest I was in right now. The memory made me smile again, and I was intrigued to find out whether or not I was right. Once home, I found an online voice recording that confirmed the screams did indeed belong to a (Northern) goshawk.
To be continued …
ps: After 150 years of absence, the wolf (Canis lupus lupus) is back in The Netherlands. Research 2015-2021 shows that wolves are active on almost half of the Dutch land area. The main locations are found in the provinces of Drenthe, Overijssel, Gelderland and Noord Brabant.
It is mid-June already, and it has been a bit of a struggle to keep up with this tale for the past 6 weeks. Mainly due to the atrocious weather with endless rain and strong winds. I haven’t been on my bike all this time, and the month of May was officially noted down as the warmest but also the wettest month of May ever recorded. The land is drenched, the rivers are full, and the storks are having a hard time rearing their babies.
There was an urgency to check out the nests, so on one of the last days of May - a fairly windy, but dry day with a bit of intermittent sun - I took the car to check out my second-most favourite stork nest. Situated right next to a bend in the narrow cobble-stone road that passes through the tiny hamlet of Geelbroek (some nine kilometres south of Assen) this well-known and popular pole nest offers the closest view of any nests in the neighbourhood. It is a gorgeous, picturesque spot in an old and rich meadow landscape, with a space to park your car and even a picnic bench.
On the way there, I drove past nest number two (see part 1), the one in front of the farmstead. Three half-grown youngsters were crowding the nest; one of their parents was perched on the rim of the nest, keeping a lofty eye on its lively brood. It looked rather full, with not a lot of space to spare, and it was difficult to distinguish the individual birds in amongst all those feathers, heads and bodies. The young ones have black, instead of orange bills, so that helps at least. Later, I heard that there are actually four youngsters on this nest!
Just before rounding the last bend in the road coming up to my second-most favourite stork nest, I spotted a sight in the green field on my right that made me hit the brakes. Parking on the verge, I got out with my binoculars and stared with some excitement at a proper muster of fifteen foraging storks at the far end of the field. Fifteen! I’d never seen so many together all at once before. There was a tree-lined track running along the side of the field, so I quietly walked to the far end, thinking I could get a closer look at them. They weren’t having it though. The moment I calmly stuck my head around the last tree, they took off, one after the other. I had not expected them to be that weary, and immediately felt guilty for having disturbed them. They had looked so peaceful going about their business. I was relieved, therefore, to see them all coming back within minutes after I had returned to my car.
Arriving at the stork nest, I saw one adult bird. It took off the moment I got out of the car. Usually the birds on this nest don’t pay any attention whatsoever to anyone who stops to look at them. Year after year, they patiently put up with all of us gawking admirers, and I was a bit taken aback by its quick departure. There were no stork babies in sight. Hmmm, I thought, that’s odd. I could not even detect a single sign of life within the nest. I had forgotten how big and deep this particular nest actually is. Just my luck, I thought disappointedly. I waited for the parent bird to return, in the hope the youngsters would stand up to greet it when it did. I waited ten minutes, and then left to come back another day.
The day stayed fairly nice, so I decided I would walk the 6-kilometre trail that I had seen sign posted a year ago whilst on a cycling trip through the area. At the time, I was coming through what is called ‘Hart van Drenthe’: a dynamic nature reserve with extensive forests, dozens of fens and sweeping heathlands, all within the boundaries of the National Park Drentsche Aa. The NP’s website tells you that the expanse, tranquility, and variety of landscape of this nature reserve have enabled flora and fauna to flourish to such an extent these days that even the wolf has recently settled in the area! Passing a small parking area along the forest cycling path I was on at the time, I had noticed a large information board, displaying this 6 km. walking trail. It looked interesting, so I had stored it in my mind for a later date.
It took me a while to find this little car park in the forest again. It’s not the same when you are following cycling routes, crisscrossing all over the place, and then having to find a particular spot back by car a year later, but I eventually found it. Convinced as I was, for it looked just like I remembered it. The only thing glaringly missing, though, was the large trail information board. Further inspection did not produce a marked trail post anywhere either. Huh!? Oh no, that will just be me again! I grumbled. I don’t believe it! It’s taken me forty minutes driving up and down country lanes to find this place, and now my trail’s disappeared!
I was not amused. I was quite baffled actually. I had recognized the road name, I had recognized the rather strange turn-off, and I had noted the cycling sign being the correct one at the beginning of the path. I checked Google maps again: it couldn’t be other than the right spot. A broad forest path led off from the car park. I might as well see where that goes to, I thought, refusing to give in. A short distance along, a narrow trail veered off to the left. It had no indication whatsoever about a 6 km trail, so I passed it by. Better safe than sorry, I thought wryly, and continued straight on. The path skirted the edge of a mixed, fairly open forest. Young trees, mature trees, broad-leaved trees, fir trees, shrubs of all kind, woodland flowers in small open patches, a bit of water-logged terrain. Fields on the other side. The sun flitted in and out, song birds all around. It was obviously not my 6 km trail, but it was pleasant enough.
Being still in the process of getting used to my binoculars, I was purposefully trying it out on anything small: a twig, a single leaf, an insect. Noticing that I have to correct a little to the left each time that I think I am aiming it straight at something. Lack of experience makes it hard for me to find any tree-perched bird smaller than a blackbird, so I was practicing on that as well. Passing a stand of coniferous trees next to the path, I was pretty pleased therefore to pick out, follow and watch for some time a handful of crested tits being very busy with their lives. They made me smile; pretty little things they are.
The path never veered off from its straight course, and eventually terminated at a small road. Having no interest in aimlessly wandering about, I turned around and walked the same way back. A song thrush hopped along the path as I tried (but failed) to spot more little birds hiding away in the canopy. I was starting to feel a bit forlorn due to my lack of success, when suddenly a barrage of loud, high-pitched screams shattered the calm air. A large bird of prey for sure, was loudly proclaiming its presence near a fair-sized copse of tall coniferous trees on the far side of a small field. It sounded air-born, but I couldn’t see it flying anywhere. I looked for a high-perched, large nest in amongst the tall fir trees, but couldn’t find one. The copse being just a little too dark, too dense, and too big to get a clear look at it all.
Even though I had never heard that sound before, the answer popped into my head just like that: that must be a goshawk! A near forgotten memory of a walk with my brother in a very similar open forest flashed through my mind. Passing a scattered heap of plucked feathers on the forest floor, he had not only told me about the feeding habits of goshawks (Accipiter gentilis), but also about their preference for living and hunting in open, mixed forests. Just like the forest I was in right now. The memory made me smile again, and I was intrigued to find out whether or not I was right. Once home, I found an online voice recording that confirmed the screams did indeed belong to a (Northern) goshawk.
To be continued …
ps: After 150 years of absence, the wolf (Canis lupus lupus) is back in The Netherlands. Research 2015-2021 shows that wolves are active on almost half of the Dutch land area. The main locations are found in the provinces of Drenthe, Overijssel, Gelderland and Noord Brabant.
