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Message: <blockquote data-quote="dantheman" data-source="post: 2758517" data-attributes="member: 32998">Day 2. Lithuania - some fishponds and other places (Birveta Fishponds).After the excitement of the previous evenings sightings, and relating the events to Liamonus on our return (who’d unfortunately been consigned to domestic duties for the evening), settling down for the night had taken a bit longer than perhaps it should have, given that we had plans for an early start the next morning.But we did all manage to get up, perhaps not quite as early and in as sprightly a manner as we would have liked in an ideal world (as an aside, my ideal birding world would involve the dawn chorus starting at around, say, half eight, nine o-clock, but, bizarrely, birds (and plenty of mammals too) seem to have their body clock set so much earlier than mine … weird or what?) First stop was a local area of forest not far to the north of Vilnius where the guys had seen a Three-toed Woodpecker feeding and displaying in the winter season.It was now 7:30, dawn quite a while back, and there didn’t seem to be too much bird activity. Twenty minutes passed, with Chaffinch the main highlight.We decided to split up, or at least I wandered off. I still saw nothing. This was a tad upsetting, because on my return, I found that Liamonus had enjoyed cracking views of a Black Woodpecker coming to a nest hole not twenty yards from where we’d been stood, and Milda had enjoyed a White-backed Woodpecker fly past on her explorations.Despite these birds being in the area, and target species, we decided to press on (more chances should come later). Returning to the car, it got a bit better, for me at least, as I quickly spotted and called a Honey Buzzard circling lazily around and Liamonus called a Red-breasted Flycatcher in the pines. We didn’t see the latter though (and to make it worse I realised a flycatcher I'd seen briefly earlier on may have been this species after all).We now headed roughly north east to some fishponds on the Belarus border.This was touted as a cracking spot, and it turned out to be not bad at all. On the way we’d seen a Turtle Dove sitting in a roadside field (not common in spring here apparently), a smart male Garganey sat on a grassy pool (where a pair of Marsh Sandpipers had bred a few years before!)  and the first of many White-tailed Eagles sitting distantly on the ground. A distant raptor disappearing into the trees may well have been the hoped for Lesser Spotted Eagle, but we'll never know- there were plenty of eagles about, and we'd be bound to catch up with one sooner or later. We soon reached the first ‘pond’  – in actuality a rather large water body, and with a fair amount of birdlife. First, on our side a reasonable (for the time of year) mixed flock of Tufted Duck and Pochard with the odd Goldeneye thrown in for good measure. A large gullery/ternery on a sandy island was the main feature, with assorted wildfowl and birds flying to and fro. The plan was to drive around a rough track to view the other side, but this plan quickly came unstuck as we became stuck in axle-deep soft mud. A muddy looking patch on the dirt track was actually more akin to a hippo wallow once we’d hit it, as we slowly slid to a cloying halt. This did not look good – the prospect of valuable birding time being lost and hassle of getting (finding even) a local to tow us out not one that filled us with relish. However with low revs, and myself and Milda donning wellies and pushing we somehow managed to ease the car forwards and onto firmer ground. We escaped un-besmattered with mud too, which was a large bonus. The relief all round was almost palpable.A decision was made to park up at this point rather than risk further mishaps, and so we set off a little way on foot. A rather elusive bird in a nearby bush gave a bit of confusion as we struggled for the English name. Not a rare hippo, but a relatively common acro, the Marsh Warbler remained frustratingly hidden from sight, with occasional flight views only as it would temporarily change its songbush for a better tree, and vice versa.‘Black-necked Grebe’ I said to the others on scanning the water properly for the first time on my turning from the elusive songbird. ‘Where?’ they exclaimed, almost in unison. It turned out this was their target species for this spot, they'd tried scanning unsuccessfully for it for the last 10 minutes or so, and had all but given up. Yet another example of my superlative birding skills in action as I calmly found them the bird (!) The two birds were distant, but nice nonetheless. The Common Terns made a great spectacle, but most of the birds present were of the fairly ordinary kind (Shoveler, Gadwall, trashy male Garganey etc), so we didn’t hang about.Using the firmer ground to the side of the track we safely re-negotiated the muddy wallow, and proceeded to explore the network of trackways running along the embankments between the ponds, disembarking for brief sorties at times. It wasn’t particularly dripping with birds, but we enjoyed the odd Grey Heron and Little Grebe, 3 Black Terns quartering a pit with perhaps more notable the dry ground birds – a parliament of 50 or so Ravens resting on the track before us before we disturbed them (they're quite impressive at the best of times in ones or twos - I expect 50 would be positively disturbing if you happened to be of a particularly nervous disposition, or an emo)*, and an even more impressive 9 White–tailed Eagles emanating from another dried up pit like so many giant black sticklebricks, huge and satisfyingly chunky, fingered projections and all. A Red Kite drifted over, almost a description species apparently (I won’t describe it here though). An island held all 3 large grey-backed gulls - Herring, Caspian and a single Yellow-legged Gull.Waders were unfortunately very thin on the ground (if it had been colder they’d have been more fluffed up perhaps?), with 5 sum plum Grey Plover, 2 Dunlin and a Ruff the sum total from the drier pits. Not even a sandpiper on the damper ones, although we did enjoy almost point blank views of a Little Ringed Plover we nearly ran over on the track before us. My expectations of finding the place dripping with Broad-billeds and Terek Sands seemed like a laughable fantasy from another world**. A stop for lunch ensued, with good views of Great Reed Warbler in the thin fringing of reeds, and a great birding tradition revived in the shape of sardines on bread for sustenance. We were just in the middle of some probably incredibly important conversation when I suddenly noticed something dark, furry and furtive slinking along a short wooden jetty in the background behind their heads. This was more interesting! (than their heads, or the conversation.)Lunch was abandoned (only temporarily of course) as with one accord we turned to attempting to see the beast again.  My first thoughts were of a large Mink, but I didn’t really know what the other options were, and better views were desired. There was an old caravan on the bank near where we had parked the car, and the animal was briefly seen ducking under this as it climbed the bank. We now approached the caravan and cautiously peered around to one side – nothing. I went around to the other side, and there it was, basking in the sunshine on the concrete padding of the sluice gate system. I hoarsely beckoned the other two over, and we were all able to enjoy close views of the short-sighted beast disporting itself in the sunshine. A fairly large, dark chocolately mustelid, it had to be a Mink. Another lifer for Milda, whichever one it was – introduced American or native European. I’d recently read on a familiar internet forum that European Mink had a white chin. This had a white chin, and considering we were in Europe, I was reasonably confident (95%, I think I said) that it must be a European. Very nice, and if that was the case, another mammal lifer for me!However, on returning home, we found that both species have a white chin – but the European has a white upper lip too (and a pink nose) which ours didn’t have. So just a mere poxy American then. Oh well. (For 'Oh well', read - 'Aaaargghhhh!') I guess the habitat wasn’t ‘rare’ enough anyway – farmed fishponds and concrete sluices rather than the wild and rugged shoreline of some isolated tree-lined lochan (or whatever the eastern european word is for an isolated tree-lined lochan). It should of course be noted that I've seen American Mink a few times in the UK before - otherwise I wouldn't have minded so much it not being the other one.Lunch over and we stopped again for a perambulation down a partially vegetated and presumably little used side track. A cracking spot, first up was a singing Citrine Wagtail perched in the tree next to the car. I managed not to see an unwarrantedly shy Common Rosefinch singing lustily nearby (those superlative birding skills again …), a Penduline Tit flew past, and then another Citrine Wagtail appeared. Probably the same 3 Black Terns as earlier put in an appearance, a Shelduck flew over distantly, and then Liamonus picked up a different warbler song from the undergrowth.(* Actually emos would probably embrace the Ravens (in a non-physical kind of way of course). Similarly, emus wouldn't have a problem with a bunch of corvids. Emus are bigger than ravens... and anyway, never mess with an emu. Pitting an emu against an emo might be interesting though ...)(** The same world in which dawn starts at c.9:15 every day?)</blockquote>

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