Eleven days later, I ventured out on an overcast, windy, and very wet day, feeling there was really no time left to wait for fairer weather to come along. I urgently needed to check on all the nests, as bits of news had filtered down about stork chicks succumbing to the cold, or even drowning in their nests. My birdwatching neighbour told me that well-established, large, and deep pole nests, can become lined to such an extent that rainwater cannot seep out any longer. Creating a pool of water at the bottom, in which little chicks do not survive. Such a nest eventually will receive human attention, by taking it down and reducing its size to a comfy, but more shallow form, but that often only gets done when someone else has reported a concern about it.
I also heard that inexperienced, first-time parent birds, sometimes leave their babies alone for too long: exposing them too often and/or too long to the harsh weather. And of course, there is always the question of food. One can imagine that it might have been difficult to find enough of it on all those drenched, waterlogged, and flooded fields. I don’t know. I do know that, if necessary, storks neglect the youngest chick(s), in order to enhance the survival of the older ones. Rejecting the weaker ones from the nest, or, if they die on the nest, even eating them. Not wasting extra nourishment.
Fourteen nests to visit. I went south first, back again to my second-favourite nest at Geelbroek. On my way there, I first stopped at what I have been calling Nest number two, the one in front of the nearby farmstead. Eleven days ago it had four young ones. Today, there were only two left! That was a bit of a shock, I must admit. The two remaining youngsters had grown tremendously though, and were not far off in size from the single parent bird that was attending them. My second-favourite nest showed up completely abandoned: no young ones, no adult birds in sight. I could only conclude that it was a failed year for them. Another pole nest in a field not too distant - one I haven’t mentioned yet, I think – still showed the two young birds that I had seen on my previous round there. Together with one of their parents, they were standing on the nest, their backs turned towards the wind and pouring rain.
Returning in the direction of Assen again, my next stop was in the village of Deurze. One truncated tree with a huge nest along the road, and one nest on top of a farmstead roof. I hadn’t been there since my first excursion (see part 1). A bit ridiculous, since it is so close to my house, but, hey, blame the atrocious weather. Parking in a rather awkward, but safe spot, I could see both nests without the unpleasant prospect of having to get out in the rain. To my delight, I saw not three, but four well-grown youngsters crowding the tree nest. Wauw, I thought, that’s amazing, four half-grown babies! ‘Well done you!’, I said, congratulating out loud the single parent bird that was perched on the rim of the nest. Studying the rooftop nest, I could only see one young bird and one adult. Both were standing on the nest. It is a fairly shallow nests, and it was quite clear that they were the only birds present.
Next, I drove north. Back again to the stork colony at Oudemolen. I was not looking forward to walking, let alone standing in the rain and wind whilst looking through binoculars, and was already grumbling at the prospect of being forced to hold up an umbrella in order to protect my beautiful instrument. Apart from the impossible fact that one needs three hands to do the two things at the same time, umbrellas are just so utterly annoying when it’s windy. Now, if only there were some aggressive buzzards around, I thought sarcastically, I would feel só much better about umbrellas… I stopped whining instantly, though, when, coming into the village of Oudemolen, I passed a long, narrow meadow, full of foraging storks. Another proper muster!, I thought excitedly, manoeuvering the car into a safe spot along the road. I wound down the window, and counted fifteen storks spread out along the full length of the field. Funny that, I thought, guess that’s just a coincidence. The muster near my second-favourite stork nest (see part 7), had also consisted of fifteen birds. I counted again, but yes, there were fifteen of them. The rain had stopped momentarily, and I took a few photos from inside the car.
Moments later, at the now familiar carpark, and it was raining again. I ventured out to the two nests across the road from it. Awkwardly balancing the flapping umbrella against a tree, I first peered through my binoculars at the nest in the big, dead tree in front of the farmhouse. It was still tricky to see, but there were definitely two adults and I think, three youngsters. The pole nest on the other side of the house: one adult and also three young ones. Both nests therefore have one young more, than I had been able to see on my previous visit. That was a nice surprise. Next up, were the three tree nests and the one pole nest, out in the open meadow by the pretty little river. The blustery wind, pouring rain, and sopping, muddy underground did do nothing to even remotely make this into a pleasant walk. As a matter of fact, it was so unpleasant that I decided not even to walk halfway around the field. I got myself to a spot from where I could see all the nests, and stayed there for as short a time as possible. Conveniently, that spot also has a tree to balance the umbrella against, but my patience with it was getting sorely tested.
The tree nest nearest to the path showed two adults sitting on it. Still no youngsters in view, so I guess this is a failed year for them. Tree nest number two, halfway down the line, had four well-grown young standing on it. They were busily pecking at something to eat. On my previous visit, I had only clearly seen two, with possibly a third young on this nest. The third tree nest, at the far end of the meadow, showed two youngsters. One more than I had previously been able to see. The tall pole nest, furthest out in the field, still showed the three young birds that I had seen before. They had grown up big time. All three of them stood on the nest, close together; their backs turned against the nasty weather elements. It was impossible not to feel sorry for them.
Back home, I still had to visit one more nest: the one closest to home, and within a five minute walk. Back out with the dripping brolly, I trotted as quickly as possible the short distance across, and found, to my delight, not one, but two decent sized young storks on the nest. Happy and content with that sight, I just as quickly turned around and walked back home.
Reflecting on the day, I felt quite happy and reassured with what I had seen. Yes, two empty nests, that was sad. But, overall, I had seen more young storks than I had expected. Twenty-six young birds, to be precise, divided over the twelve other nests. Not a bad tally, I guess. They were all quite close to the size of their parents, and appeared to be doing well. Only a few more weeks, and they would all be flown from their nests.
I did not think there was much point therefore in keeping up with these rounds any longer, and decided to concentrate for the last so many weeks, on just the two pole nests closest to my house: Nests number One and Two, along the little river nearby, and both within easy walking distance. I would make a daily evening walk, see how they were doing, and enjoy whatever I would come across. In case it was dreadful weather, I could still daily check on nest number two, since I can see it from my balcony. Hopefully, though, the weather would improve soon. It was about high time that these young birds got some respite from all this wetness and cold.
To be continued - with the 10th and final part of this tale: Flying out
I also heard that inexperienced, first-time parent birds, sometimes leave their babies alone for too long: exposing them too often and/or too long to the harsh weather. And of course, there is always the question of food. One can imagine that it might have been difficult to find enough of it on all those drenched, waterlogged, and flooded fields. I don’t know. I do know that, if necessary, storks neglect the youngest chick(s), in order to enhance the survival of the older ones. Rejecting the weaker ones from the nest, or, if they die on the nest, even eating them. Not wasting extra nourishment.
Fourteen nests to visit. I went south first, back again to my second-favourite nest at Geelbroek. On my way there, I first stopped at what I have been calling Nest number two, the one in front of the nearby farmstead. Eleven days ago it had four young ones. Today, there were only two left! That was a bit of a shock, I must admit. The two remaining youngsters had grown tremendously though, and were not far off in size from the single parent bird that was attending them. My second-favourite nest showed up completely abandoned: no young ones, no adult birds in sight. I could only conclude that it was a failed year for them. Another pole nest in a field not too distant - one I haven’t mentioned yet, I think – still showed the two young birds that I had seen on my previous round there. Together with one of their parents, they were standing on the nest, their backs turned towards the wind and pouring rain.
Returning in the direction of Assen again, my next stop was in the village of Deurze. One truncated tree with a huge nest along the road, and one nest on top of a farmstead roof. I hadn’t been there since my first excursion (see part 1). A bit ridiculous, since it is so close to my house, but, hey, blame the atrocious weather. Parking in a rather awkward, but safe spot, I could see both nests without the unpleasant prospect of having to get out in the rain. To my delight, I saw not three, but four well-grown youngsters crowding the tree nest. Wauw, I thought, that’s amazing, four half-grown babies! ‘Well done you!’, I said, congratulating out loud the single parent bird that was perched on the rim of the nest. Studying the rooftop nest, I could only see one young bird and one adult. Both were standing on the nest. It is a fairly shallow nests, and it was quite clear that they were the only birds present.
Next, I drove north. Back again to the stork colony at Oudemolen. I was not looking forward to walking, let alone standing in the rain and wind whilst looking through binoculars, and was already grumbling at the prospect of being forced to hold up an umbrella in order to protect my beautiful instrument. Apart from the impossible fact that one needs three hands to do the two things at the same time, umbrellas are just so utterly annoying when it’s windy. Now, if only there were some aggressive buzzards around, I thought sarcastically, I would feel só much better about umbrellas… I stopped whining instantly, though, when, coming into the village of Oudemolen, I passed a long, narrow meadow, full of foraging storks. Another proper muster!, I thought excitedly, manoeuvering the car into a safe spot along the road. I wound down the window, and counted fifteen storks spread out along the full length of the field. Funny that, I thought, guess that’s just a coincidence. The muster near my second-favourite stork nest (see part 7), had also consisted of fifteen birds. I counted again, but yes, there were fifteen of them. The rain had stopped momentarily, and I took a few photos from inside the car.
Moments later, at the now familiar carpark, and it was raining again. I ventured out to the two nests across the road from it. Awkwardly balancing the flapping umbrella against a tree, I first peered through my binoculars at the nest in the big, dead tree in front of the farmhouse. It was still tricky to see, but there were definitely two adults and I think, three youngsters. The pole nest on the other side of the house: one adult and also three young ones. Both nests therefore have one young more, than I had been able to see on my previous visit. That was a nice surprise. Next up, were the three tree nests and the one pole nest, out in the open meadow by the pretty little river. The blustery wind, pouring rain, and sopping, muddy underground did do nothing to even remotely make this into a pleasant walk. As a matter of fact, it was so unpleasant that I decided not even to walk halfway around the field. I got myself to a spot from where I could see all the nests, and stayed there for as short a time as possible. Conveniently, that spot also has a tree to balance the umbrella against, but my patience with it was getting sorely tested.
The tree nest nearest to the path showed two adults sitting on it. Still no youngsters in view, so I guess this is a failed year for them. Tree nest number two, halfway down the line, had four well-grown young standing on it. They were busily pecking at something to eat. On my previous visit, I had only clearly seen two, with possibly a third young on this nest. The third tree nest, at the far end of the meadow, showed two youngsters. One more than I had previously been able to see. The tall pole nest, furthest out in the field, still showed the three young birds that I had seen before. They had grown up big time. All three of them stood on the nest, close together; their backs turned against the nasty weather elements. It was impossible not to feel sorry for them.
Back home, I still had to visit one more nest: the one closest to home, and within a five minute walk. Back out with the dripping brolly, I trotted as quickly as possible the short distance across, and found, to my delight, not one, but two decent sized young storks on the nest. Happy and content with that sight, I just as quickly turned around and walked back home.
Reflecting on the day, I felt quite happy and reassured with what I had seen. Yes, two empty nests, that was sad. But, overall, I had seen more young storks than I had expected. Twenty-six young birds, to be precise, divided over the twelve other nests. Not a bad tally, I guess. They were all quite close to the size of their parents, and appeared to be doing well. Only a few more weeks, and they would all be flown from their nests.
I did not think there was much point therefore in keeping up with these rounds any longer, and decided to concentrate for the last so many weeks, on just the two pole nests closest to my house: Nests number One and Two, along the little river nearby, and both within easy walking distance. I would make a daily evening walk, see how they were doing, and enjoy whatever I would come across. In case it was dreadful weather, I could still daily check on nest number two, since I can see it from my balcony. Hopefully, though, the weather would improve soon. It was about high time that these young birds got some respite from all this wetness and cold.
To be continued - with the 10th and final part of this tale: Flying out