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Bull Island, 8 December 2002
It’s good to know that so many of our branch members don’t let cold, wet, windy mornings put them off their birding:
despite the unpleasant weather, our December outing to Bull Island proved to be one of our best attended of the year,
and all who braved the elements were well rewarded for their trouble. As usual, we met on the causeway opposite St.
Anne’s Park, some of us no doubt fearing a poor morning’s birdwatching through the steady drizzle. No sooner had we
stepped out of our cars, however, than a juvenile Peregrine was spotted perched on a post sticking up from the mud
right in front of us. All enjoyed superb views of this stunning falcon while we waited for the rapidly advancing tide to
bring the hoards of waders and ducks closer to us. At such close range the overall brownish tone and heavy streaking on
the plumage made it easy to identify it as a young bird as opposed to a greyer adult, and it was wonderful to have the rare
opportunity to study this magnificent bird of prey at such close quarters. It wasn’t to be our only falcon of the day either:
a hovering Kestrel was also spotted further along the grassy roadside verge.
The tide kept coming, and before long we found ourselves almost surrounded by Redshanks, Dunlins, Curlews, Bar-tailed
and Black-tailed Godwits, Oystercatchers, Lapwing, Wigeon, Teal and Shelduck, amongst other species. Careful scanning
through the wildfowl flocks also revealed a few handsome Shovelers swimming amongst the other ducks, as well as
hundreds of distant Brent Geese on the exposed mud. Several Greenshanks soon came into view, foraging in one of the
channels next to the sea wall, and an unexpected bonus came in the form of a flock of a few dozen small plovers wheeling
overhead. Their obvious black axilliaries (or ‘armpit’ feathers for the less anatomically inclined) revealed them all to be
Grey Plovers, rather than the expected Golden variety: unusual to see such a large flock of this ordinarily rather solitary
species. Moving to the other side of the causeway we were delighted to see a large, snow-white shape flap up on broad
wings from the direction of the golf course and float languidly towards us. It was a Little Egret, an elegant member of the
heron family, and we all enjoyed stunning views as it strutted about near the base of the causeway in all of its yellow-footed
glory. Once a very rare sight in Ireland, this species has in recent years established a foothold here and is becoming
increasingly more widespread: in fact, a second bird was spotted later on in the marsh area.
After scanning from the causeway a few more times we then decided to walk along the footpath running parallel to
the main road, hoping to get a closer view of the waders, gulls and ducks feeding along the nearby channels. Before long
we had fine views of Redshanks and Dunlins feeding on the mud just a few metres in front of us, and in a channel nearby
we also picked up a couple of Pintails, arguably our most handsome duck. There were large numbers of gulls loafing about
on the mud there too, with most of the usual winter suspects present, namely Great Black-backed, Herring, Common and
Black-headed. Closer scrutiny revealed a more unusual interloper, an adult Ring-billed Gull. This rare visitor from North
America in many respects looks extremely similar to our Common Gull, but it is a slightly larger bird with a heavier black-
banded yellow bill, slightly paler grey wings that show less white at the tips, and a pale iris that gives it a somewhat sterner
look than its dark-eyed relative. First recorded on our shores in the 1970’s, this species has become a more frequent
vagrant in recent years, and Dublin Bay is one of the best sites in Europe at which to find it.
On our way back to the causeway we were fortunate enough to glimpse a shining blue and orange Kingfisher as it darted
across one of the channels and obligingly perched on a nearby bank. It remained there only briefly, but still long enough to
allow several of us to get nice binocular views of this avian jewel. It was a fitting end to a superb morning’s birding which
had provided us with some very special species as well as amazing views of some commoner ones, and it stands as a lesson
to us all not to let bad weather dissuade us from going out and discovering what’s waiting to be found.
Niall Hatch
On the 10th of November 2002 the annual South Dublin Branch coach outing to Wexford took place. The coach left Rathfarnham at 8.30am on this fine day, and our first stop was at a quarry just outside Gorey, where we hoped to find the resident pair of Peregrines. As the coach pulled up to the spot a bird was seen flying away, but it was a poor view and we weren’t able to be determine if it was indeed a Peregrine. Anxious minutes followed until someone found a definite Peregrine sitting on a ledge. A scope was set up inside the bus and everybody managed to get great views of this magnificent creature.
Our next stop was at Curracloe, which lies north of the Wexford Wildfowl Reserve and adjoins the Raven Nature Reserve. After watching an immature Kestrel and a very confiding pair of Stonechats, we then walked the short distance over the dunes to look for seabirds. Red-throated Divers were the most obvious, gleaming white in the sunlight. A large flock of Common Scoters in the bay was hiding a Guillemot, a Slavonian Grebe and some Cormorants. A flock of Goldfinches and Meadow Pipits flew overhead, giving their distinctive calls. We then walked a short distance into the Raven wood itself and appropriately a Raven was sighted in the distance. Several Curlews and Oystercatchers were seen in an adjacent field; these two waders, occasionally accompanied by Redshanks, feed in fields near the sea when the tide is in. We stopped in a clearing, while Wrens and Robins sang and the distant cackling of geese could be heard. Chaffinches, Goldfinches, a solitary Siskin and some Greenfinches flew over. On the way back a single Red Squirrel was found and gave good views, as did a lone Goldcrest.
We then proceeded to our main stop, Wexford Wildfowl Reserve on the North Slob. The Reserve lies north of Wexford town: as it is situated primarily on reclaimed land it is one of the few places in Ireland that lies below sea level. The large expanse of flat grassland makes it very attractive to Greenland White-fronted Geese, half of the world’s population of which winter here. It is also one of the best places to see rare and vagrant geese in Ireland. This winter several Pink-footed Geese and two Snow Geese were present, as well as a hybrid Snow Goose x Greenland White-fronted Goose. Pink-feet, scarce but annual winter visitors to the North Slob in small numbers, breed in Iceland and Greenland; they resemble Greylag Geese, but are somewhat smaller and have darker heads with small brown and pink bills. Snow Geese, rare vagrants from North America, can be either completely white save for black flight-feathers (“white phase”), or can have a mostly brownish-blue body and greyish wings with a white head and upper neck (“blue phase”): one of each phase was found amongst the White-fronts this year. The North Slob also holds a large population of wintering Mute and Whooper Swans and occasionally some Bewick’s Swans too. Moreover it is one of the best places in the country to see Gadwall, a duck species that is very common on the Continent, but much scarcer in Ireland. One or two American ducks usually winter and this year was no exception, with a single drake Green-winged Teal and a drake American Wigeon present. The Green-winged Teal looks very similar to “our” Teal, but it has a vertical white stripe on its body instead of the horizontal one our Teal has. A drake Red-crested Pochard, which had been found the previous month, was still present and seen by all. This stunning duck breeds in the Netherlands and around the Mediterranean. One or two turn up most years in Ireland, but not often adult males in breeding plumage. The large lake, which can be viewed from the Pumphouse Hide and the Pat Walsh Hide, held a large number of Goldeneye, Mallard, and Teal, as well as 10 Scaup, 4 Gadwall, many Wigeon and Tufted Duck and some Pochards. A Little Egret was seen flying over the Pat Walsh Hide as large flock of Black-tailed Godwits settled in a nearby field to feed. At the Pumphouse Hide a Wren and a Goldcrest were seen within a meter of the windows, as the Red-crested Pochard played hide and seek in a reed bed with observers. A Kingfisher was seen flying over the access road by a lucky few, but it had disappeared before everybody could see it. From the Tower Hide the large flock of Greenland White-fronted Geese and Whooper Swans was seen. Among the swans and geese we saw 5 Bewick’s Swans, one Pink-footed Goose, 2 Canada Goose x Greenland White-fronted Goose hybrids and 1 hybrid Snow Goose x Greenland White-fronted Goose. A single Greenshank was seen feeding in the pond adjoining the hide and the resident Tree Sparrows were seen in some bushes nearby. A single Hen Harrier was also glimpsed in the distance by one lucky observer.
After requesting permission from the warden, we drove out onto the Slobs, hoping to get closer views of the geese and maybe catch a glimpse of one of the Snow Geese. Our first stop was at the now almost derelict Beg Erin Hide. Unfortunately, there were few birds to be seen there apart from Mute Swans and a large flock of Wigeon. As we proceeded along the road we flushed a large covey of Pheasants, as well as some Irish Hares. Unfortunately, most of the geese had already flown out of the fields due to earlier disturbance, but consolation came in the shape of a lone male Hen Harrier quartering a field in the fading daylight and a stunning Merlin that flew right past the windows of our coach. Returning to Dublin, we saw large skeins of geese silhouetted against the sunset on a cloudless evening. A memorable end to an amazing day on which we saw a total of 78 bird species.
Stephen McAvoy
On the 6th of October the South Dublin Branch visited both Broadmeadow Estuary and
Rogerstown Estuary Hide on a dull but mild day. After meeting up in Swords, our group
first made its way to Broadmeadow. Immediately apparent were the numerous roosting
Black-headed Gulls. The first scan of the Estuary revealed a small flock of Golden
Plovers, two of which were still moulting out of summer plumage (an attractive mix of
black face, throat and breast with a golden back). Other waders present included
Redshank, Lapwing, Curlew and Black-tailed Godwit. Common and Herring Gulls were
also present in small numbers among the Black-headed Gulls. 4 Snipe were found
feeding at the edge of a grass bank, allowing us all to get excellent views through the
telescopes. A more thorough search through the flocks of waders revealed a solitary
Grey Plover and an unexpectedly large flock of 17 Greenshanks; these birds are usually
only seen in ones or twos around Dublin. A large group of Red-breasted Mergansers and
Great Crested Grebes was also found some distance out in the Estuary. After watching
several Goldfinches feeding on thistles on a building site we drove the short distance up
the N1 to Rogerstown Estuary.
On the walk to the hide we enjoyed good views of Reed Bunting and Stonechat, as well
as more distant views of 3 Little Egrets. It seems strange that such an exotic looking bird
can survive the Irish winter! A Carrion Crow was found atop a tree as we walked on, but
was only glimpsed briefly by a lucky few. Carrion Crows are close relatives of our own
Hooded Crows, differing only in their all-black plumage. They breed commonly in
Britain and on the Continent, but are only rare visitors to Ireland, mostly in the northeast
of the country. Long thought of merely as races of the same species, recent evidence
seems to suggest that the two crows may better be treated as separate species.
When we reached the hide it was high tide, so few birds were apparent on first view.
After a bit of searching a very large flock of roosting Curlews and Lapwings was found
in the fields on the other side of the Estuary. Suddenly a low-flying Peregrine dashed
out, flushing a large number of birds that had been sheltering in a dense patch of reeds
near the Curlews. In the chaos that followed a Curlew Sandpiper and a couple of
Oystercatchers sought safety by actually swimming with the flock of Wigeon that had
congregated in front of the hide. Some Mallard and Teal were also present in this group,
and further searching revealed a drake American Wigeon. Unfortunately it gave only
fleeting views before flying off out of sight. This individual, a rare vagrant from North
America, has been present at Rogerstown Estuary for the past two winters, and this year
was joined by two American x Eurasian Wigeon hybrids. One of these hybrid ducks
remained on the bank opposite the hide, giving excellent views. With its totally pale
orange-cream coloured head it stood out remarkably well amongst its more ordinary
cousins.
A further treat appeared overhead in the form of 4 Buzzards that were spotted circling
near the hide, most likely juvenile birds. It is amazing how the population has increased
from just a handful breeding on Rathlin Island off the Antrim coast to breeding being
recorded in almost every Irish county in the space of just a few years! Once much more
widespread in Ireland before it was persecuted to national extinction, it looks as though
this majestic raptor has finally begun to make a comeback.
Further scanning revealed a pair of Pintail that proved elusive by hiding behind a bank,
and a hunting Sparrowhawk certainly didn't help! By this time some of the mudflat had
been exposed by the falling tide and waders were starting to arrive. Dunlins, Redshanks
and Black-tailed Godwits appeared from their roosts to feed, some directly in front of the
hide. A male Kestrel landed on top of one of the banks and showed well for several
minutes.
60 bird species in all were seen on this outing, proving once more how vital this area of
north Co. Dublin is for birds. Special thanks must go to the members of the Fingal
Branch of BirdWatch Ireland who have done such a great job in maintaining Rogerstown
and constructing the fine hide and who graciously gave up their time to show us around.
Stephen MacAvoy
In 1997 and 1998 I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to study at Cornell University in Ithaca, a beautiful town in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. Although ostensibly I was there to do a masters degree in Law, there may well have been another reason for my choosing to attend that particular academic institution - birds. You see, apart from having a well-regarded law school, Cornell is also home to one of the most important institutes for the study of our feathered friends, the world-renowned Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology. Whenever my busy study schedule permitted I would spend time at the ‘Lab of O’, as it is usually abbreviated by locals, getting to know North American birds and developing a great fondness for them. The Lab of O wasn’t merely a dry academic institution, though - it was the focal point for a large community of local birders, and during my time living in Ithaca I managed to squeeze in pretty much every field trip and bird club meeting possible. The birders in the area were a very friendly and helpful, not to mention knowledgeable, bunch, and I learned a lot from them and made many good friends.
The birders of the Finger Lakes region, and of the US in general, are pretty keen on bird races. Most of these events take place in the spring, when the migrant warblers, thrushes, vireos, etc. are returning from their wintering quarters. In the Finger Lakes region, though, they do things a bit differently; they have their bird race in September, when the migrants are departing for southern climes, many having moulted from bright, colourful breeding plumage into drabber winter dress. Even the resident species keep more of a low profile, are less vocal and harder to track down. So, while there are still lots of birds around, the challenge of finding as many of them as possible and identifying them is all the greater. The bird race in question is the Montezuma Muckrace, and annual 24 hour event that takes place within the confines of the Montezuma Wetlands Complex to the north of Cayuga Lake, and the only autumn bird race in the eastern US. It is sponsored by Audubon New York and the Friends of the Montezuma Wetlands Complex and is designed to increase the visibility of the wetlands complex as a birding destination and to provide a way for birders to contribute to conservation work at Montezuma. It is a prestigious and demanding competition that I have often discussed with my Ithaca birding friends, and this year I got to take part.
Our next stop took the form of a quick visit to a viewing platform in the Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, the jewel in the crown of the wetlands complex. Not at its best at 9:30 at night, but we needed to be there at that time to have a chance of seeing Black-crowned Night-Heron. See it we did, as a moonlit silhouette, and we managed to get a couple more species of slumbering heron to boot. From there it was on to a quiet bridge to listen for the high pitched calls of thrushes migrating overhead. These birds only migrate at night, and they call constantly to other members of their flocks so that they can keep in contact with each other in the darkness; listen out for the high-pitched ‘tseep’ of our own Redwings doing the same thing on still October nights. These nocturnal migrants all have very similar ‘contact calls’, but with practice they can be identified - and we had been listening to tapes of them all week. We waited and waited . . . but there was nothing. The birds were undoubtedly passing overhead in droves, but the skies were too clear and consequently they were flying far too high for our ears to pick them out. We decided to cut our losses and try instead to listen for calling rails at a nearby reedbed. After about an hour standing around in the biting cold we finally heard a lone Virginia Rail (a bird that looks very like our Water Rail) clacking from somewhere in deep in the reeds, sounding almost exactly like someone rhythmically banging two stones together. As a bonus we also heard a nearby American Bittern and several American Coot, but still no thrushes.
We already had the owls we needed, there were no migrants within earshot, we were tired and the sun wouldn’t be up for hours yet - what should we do? Sleep for a while? Tempting, but no, we felt we might regret it if we didn’t push ourselves, so we chose instead to drive around the refuge auto-loop and try to find whatever waterbirds we could by using our headlights. A Moorhen and a Gadwall later we were starting to get a bit bored, until a Virginia Opossum ran across the road in front of us. The only surviving marsupial in the Americas, this hard-to-find little critter revived our spirits for a while, and was followed by good views of other mammals such as Red Fox, Striped Skunk and White-tailed Deer - but they weren’t birds and they didn’t count. Eventually it came time to head on to our most important site of the day, the quiet and undisturbed forests and fenlands of Howland Island. Our plan was to forgo motorised transport for a while and to cycle into a forest clearing under cover of darkness so that we would be well positioned to greet the arriving migrants when dawn finally broke.
A good start to the day for us, to be sure, but we still had a lot of work to do and time was ticking. We had decided to spend the next few hours cycling around the forest trying to find as many mixed-species foraging flocks as possible, as these would give us our best chance of finding some of the migrant American warblers passing through the area. All the while we were mindful to look also for the common residents, such as Tufted Titmouse, Hairy and Downy Woodpeckers, Northern Flicker, Eastern Wood-Pewee, White-breasted Nuthatch, Common Grackle and so on. As any bird racer will tell you, it is all to easy to concentrate on the scarcer species and later in the day find that you have missed something really common; on the day, all the birds are worth the same, regardless of rarity value. Our strategy paid off well; we would listen for groups of noisy foraging chickadees and then scan through them for warblers, keeping an ear out for mewing Grey Catbirds or whistling vireos. Whenever we located any warblers the scramble would then begin to make sure that we all saw them without any other nearby teams cottoning on. You may be familiar with these tiny birds, unrelated to our own warblers, in their bright, colourful summer plumages, but by September most have assumed their duller winter appearances and identification is at times a real challenge. In the end we notched up 12 warbler species, including a gorgeous Pine Warbler and a shining yellow Wilson’s Warbler. In the clearings Ruby-throated Hummingbirds buzzed past, tiny Blue-grey Gnatcatchers squeaked in the trees and various flycatchers sallied forth from their exposed perches in pursuit of breakfast. We even enjoyed great views of an abnormally confiding adult Yellow-billed Cuckoo feeding a recently fledged youngster; unlike our Cuckoo, this species cares for its own young. We also found six species of swallow and several more vireos, including Yellow-throated, Warbling and Philadelphia (which was a life bird for me).
As dusk approached we stood on the now-familiar viewing platform, virtually ignoring the large wader flocks feeding in front of us that the other teams were frantically scanning, as we had ticked them all off earlier in the day in far better light. We were only there to see one species, Common Nighthawk, another species of nightjar that forages over the area at dusk. Once it had appeared we silently slipped away to our car to try and find some new birds before the light finally failed us. Our last species of the day was an unexpected Wilson’s Phalarope in a drainage channel in the Mucklands, spinning around like a floating wooden top on the water’s surface, stirring up food.
As 9:00 p.m. drew closer we made our way back to the refuge headquarters building, listening in vain for new birds and hoping that our end total of 129 species wouldn’t place us too far down the field. Many of our rivals were already there, and all of us were utterly exhausted and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. The presentation ceremony began at about 9:30 and we were both surprised and delighted to discover that we had finished in second place! The winning team, Team Malar Stripe (named for the fact that its members, another group of Cornell birders, had for some reason all grown rather dodgy moustaches specially for the event) had only beaten us by 3 birds to finish on 132. The third place finishers, the E & E Eagles from Buffalo, finished a full 8 birds behind us, so we were very pleased with our performance. But I’m sure everyone would agree that the end result didn’t really matter. We had all had a fantastic, if very tiring and testing, 24 hours of birding and it was a truly thrilling experience. A total of 177 species were tallied on the day by all of the teams combined, providing valuable conservation data for the Montezuma complex, and lots of money was raised to support the refuge. As for winning, there’s always next year.
If you’d like to give bird racing there is no need to fly across the Atlantic and get to grips with a whole range of unfamiliar species - you can just take part in the Dublin Bird Race in early January. Unlike the Montezuma Muckrace it’s not a 24 hour event, rather it just takes place during daylight hours, so it’s not too tiring or strenuous and I can assure you is a great deal of fun. You can take it as seriously as you like, and teams of all levels and abilities take part with the aim of seeing as many species as they can within County Dublin (under Dublin Bird Race rules birds that are heard but not seen only count as half a point). For further information keep an eye on future issues of Flightlines.
A large group assembled for the Sunday morning stroll down Kilcoole beach. The weather was beautiful, perhaps too beautiful as very few of the northern migrants were to be seen. Or perhaps most of us weren't in twitching mode for whatever reason!
Straight off, in the stream just north of the entrance to the car park, Peter Doyle
had a Water Rail down among the reeds. Being a very shy and
secretive bird it only put in one appearance. A Chiffchaff flitted in and out of the scrub above it.
Out to sea Gannets cruised by over some dour Cormorants but ne’er a trace of a tern or diver.
Beyond the reserve there were numerous Wheatears gathering prior to their departure.
These are among the earliest arriving spring migrants and fairly slow to leave. They are
only found on this coast in spring and autumn as they move to and from their breeding
territories on high ground. At one time there were four of them together in the lens.
At the Breaches a flock of Mute Swan drifted in the sun.
Back at the railway station even the Stonchats were elusive, just a solitary bird on the wire fence.
Although the South Dublin branch takes a break from indoor meetings during the
summer months, we still maintain a very full programme of outdoor events, one of the
most popular being our annual coach trip to the Shannon Callows in the Offaly-
Galway-Roscommon border region. The main focus of the trip is to see at first hand
the work of BirdWatch Ireland's Corncrake Conservation Project, to learn about the
protection measures and breeding success rates, and with a bit of luck to hear a
Corncrake or two calling. Corncrakes aren't the only birds that we hope to encounter,
however, as the unique flood-plain meadows which they favour are also home to a
whole host of other breeding species, some of which can be hard to find elsewhere in
the country.
So it was, then, that a coach-load of southside birders set off at 8:30am from Dún
Laoghaire ferry terminal and retraced our traditional route to the midlands. We had
heard that the weather forecast would be bad, truly awful in fact, but spirits were high
and everyone was looking forward to a great day. The birding got off to a strong start
with a couple of Black Guillemots in Dún Laoghaire harbour itself, and despite the
intermittent drizzle we picked up several more good species for our day list en route,
including Kestrel and Mistle Thrush. A particularly nice sight was a beautifully
constructed Swallows' nest under the eaves of a pub on the main street in Kinnegad,
and we enjoyed nice views of the adults as they came in to visit it before rejoining the
other Swallows and Swifts wheeling around overhead.
Our first destination of the day was Shannon Harbour in Co. Offaly, a picturesque
little town on the banks of the Grand Canal. The meadows and fields here normally
offer some good birding, but by the time we arrived the wind had picked up and most
of the birds were keeping their heads down and refusing to call. We did have some
good views of Black-headed and Lesser Black-backed Gulls, however, and we also
had brief views of a Meadow Pipit, Skylark and a Common Snipe sitting on a fence
post.
At the meadows where the Corncrakes breed Alex began by telling us a bit about the
lifestyle and habits of this elusive and declining species, explaining that it is the only
Irish breeding bird that is currently threatened with world-wide extinction. Although
global numbers still remain high, particularly in its breeding strongholds in Russia
and eastern Europe, the Irish experience shows that these birds are particularly
sensitive to changes in their breeding habitat brought about by the introduction of
modern, more industrial methods of crop production and harvesting. At the start of
the 20th century, Ireland held several tens of thousands of breeding pairs of
Corncrakes, and their incessant nocturnal calls were a common feature of our
countryside, even in suburban areas of Dublin. In the late 1960's this figure had
fallen to about 4,000 pairs; by 1988, when an all-Ireland population census was
carried out, this had dropped yet further to barely 900 pairs. By 1993, when a mere
174 singing males were recorded, representing a decline of over 80% in just 5 years, it
was clear that the species was in serious trouble. It was found that Corncrakes were
now confined to just 3 core areas in this country - the Shannon Callows, North
Donegal and its offshore islands, and the Moy Valley and the Mullet in Co. Mayo.
By 1994 the number of calling males had fallen yet again to just 129. All this time
there had been no significant ecological changes in the species' southern African
wintering quarters, nor was hunting and trapping along migration routes a problem for
these shy, secretive and high-flying birds. It was all too clear that the drastic declines
were due solely to the impact of the modernisation of Irish agricultural practices and
the rapid adoption of an intensive silage-producing monoculture in former breeding
areas. While numbers are currently strong in eastern Europe, the inevitable
introduction of similar intensified farming methods in these countries will doubtless
bring about just as catastrophic a decline in this ground-nesting species. Unless action
is taken, and taken soon, the species may well be doomed to total extinction within a
few short decades.
It was against this background that the Irish Wildbird Conservancy, as it was then
known, set up its Corncrake Conservation Project in 1991, with the support of Dúchas
and the R.S.P.B. (who are responsible for monitoring the species' fortunes in
Northern Ireland, where it is currently extinct). Alex discussed with us the success of
the project, which has seen a broad stabilisation of breeding numbers, and outlined for
us the methods used to maximise the species' chances. These include the payment of
grants to farmers in Corncrake breeding areas to encourage the postponement of hay
mowing until 1st August each year, ensuring that a greater number of chicks can be
reared in good cover. Grants are also paid to farmers who mow fields from the centre
outwards rather than using the faster and more efficient 'outwards-in' method. This
helps to ensure that the flightless chicks and shy adults, who prefer to run into high
cover rather than fly in the open, do not become corralled in small vegetation 'islands'
in the middle of fields where the mechanical mowers will inevitably kill them.
Selected birds are also radio-tagged so that their locations and behaviour can be
monitored. Alex then explained that the recent heavy rain and consequent flooding in
the Shannon Callows had meant that this year there had been a drastic decrease in the
numbers of calling males in the region, with only 12 heard there to date. Numbers
have increased somewhat this year in Donegal, however, and if the weather improves
during the summer and the meadows dry out there is no reason not to expect that
additional birds will also nest in the Callows.
Alex then took us on a walk through the meadows, pointing out the plant species that
provide the best cover for Corncrakes and showing us just how flooded some of the
low-lying fields were. Although the rain had stopped, the wind was blowing quite
strongly, and Alex prepared us for the worst, saying that it was unlikely that any
Corncrakes would be calling in such conditions. There were plenty of other birds to
look at, though, with stunning Reed Buntings calling all around us, Skylarks singing
high overhead and Meadow Pipits doing their characteristic 'parachute' display-
flights above the fields. A Sedge Warbler began to sing from an area of high
vegetation, and another treat came in the form of a Lesser Redpoll that landed on the
path right in front of us. This species is more commonly seen during the winter
months, although they do also breed in the midlands. It was also amazing to see so
many species of wildflowers and other plants in such variety and abundance, a sight
now very rare in this country due to the widespread sowing of grass for grazing and
silage that has so blighted the biodiversity of our farmland. As we walked on, the sun
began to shine, the wind died down and our hopes grew. All of a sudden we heard it,
an abrupt rasping sound from deep in the vegetation, sounding just like someone
pulling back the teeth of a comb and releasing them - the unmistakable song of a male
Corncrake. We paused and listened for a few minutes, but it soon fell silent again and
not all of our group managed to hear it. Nevertheless, we walked on feeling elated
that we had managed to connect with this elusive species, and our moods, like the
weather, had now brightened considerably. A little further along the path we
stumbled across another unexpected creature, a Horse Leech languishing in a puddle,
no doubt washed into the field by the heavy rains. Looking somewhat like a large
dark slug, this bloodsucking invertebrate is harmless to humans and was the first
sighting of this species for many of those on the outing. "That's a tick for me",
exclaimed one exited birder, to which Alex wryly replied, "No, it's a leech."
After lunch on the banks of the river, watching distant Lapwings and Redshanks
flying past, we bade goodbye to our guide and drove on to the ancient monastic
settlement at Clonmacnoise. The weather so far had been much better than expected,
but here was where our luck ran out. As we pulled into the car park the heavens
opened, but being hardened birders we decided to carry on regardless and make our
way across the muddy fields; we weren't going to let some rain stop us. As we
walked, however, we soon decided that we were going to let some driving sleet and
stinging hailstones stop us, and we beat a hasty, muddy retreat back to the shelter of
the bus, thoroughly sodden and very cold. After about half an hour, once the skies
had cleared and the meteorological onslaught had waned, we ventured forth across the
fields once more, enjoying fine views of a couple of Linnets and a Spotted Flycatcher,
hawking insects from a fence post. From the graveyard, always a good spot for
finches, we enjoyed close views of some Goldfinches, Greenfinches and a stunning
pair of Bullfinches, as well as some glimpses of a Goldcrest in a nearby conifer. Keen
eyes also spotted a courting pair of Great Crested Grebes out on the lake, and a family
of Mistle Thrushes was seen perched on some of the headstones. We proceeded on
to an area of grassy meadowland where we soon found some of Clonmacnoise's more
notable birds, a group of 3 Whinchats perched on a barbed wire fence, and saw a pair
of Shoveler at the edge of the lake to boot. We also spotted a few Common Snipe and
were even treated to a 'drumming' display given by one of the males, the air rushing
over his specially-shaped tail feathers sounding for all the world like a bleating
airborne goat.
Before long the rain had returned, and we decided that we should make our way back
home. On the way we made a stop of 20 minutes or so in the town of Shannonbridge,
which in previous years had proven to be a good spot for warblers, Common
Sandpipers and even Corncrakes. This year, however, it was a different story, as the
floodwaters had covered the fields where we usually walk, which were now
indistinguishable from the Shannon itself. We weren't disappointed, though; apart
from hearing the singing Corncrake we had also seen a total of 53 other birds, with 2
more heard only, not bad for a day we had feared would be a complete washout. I'm
already looking forward to next year's trip and the promise of more Corncrakes, and I
hope to see you there.
Niall Hatch
This year we were guided by the keen ears of Brian Porter who, assisted by Michael
Ryan and myself, led the participants on a guided walk around this accessible and
productive area of woodland. As Brian explained, the reason for having such an early
start time is that it enables people first to hear the pre-dawn singers in isolation and
allow them to grow accustomed to the songs of these birds. Once these tunes can be
recognised it then becomes easier to pick out the other species as they gradually begin
to contribute to the chorus. As we stood by the main gates to the park we heard our
first singer of the morning, a strong-voiced Song Thrush, its flowing flute-
like notes and distinctive repeated phrases sounding out of the darkness. It was soon
joined by what turned out to be the most frequently-heard song of the day, the
explosive jumble of sharp trills given by the Wren, with its characteristic
rattling ‘machine-gun’ phrase in the middle; such a loud song for so tiny a bird.
As we walked on Brian soon pointed out the beautiful song of the Blackbird,
sounding similar to that of the Song Thrush but with a fuller, ‘rounder’ tone and
without the repeated phrases. A Robin then stepped in with its faster,
thinner-sounding song, and within a few minutes we found ourselves surrounded by
birds singing on all sides, though we had yet to set eyes on a single one. As we stood
and listened we heard the crows start to rise - first the cawing of the Rooks
as they flew overhead, then the harsher, angrier-sounding notes of the Hooded
Crows. Before long, the ubiquitous ‘chacks’ and rattles of the Magpies
had joined the mix, and the crowing of a distant cockerel leant a very rural feel to this
suburban location. Suddenly, Brian pointed to a nearby patch of conifers and told
everyone to listen very carefully for a series of very high pitched notes ending in an
abrupt flourish - the song of a Goldcrest, Ireland’s smallest bird. It took a
few minutes for everyone to pick the song out from all the others, but once heard well
it became very distinctive, and before long we were hearing Goldcrests all over the
place.
As the sun began to rise above the trees the birdsong grew louder and louder, and
soon we were surrounded on all sides by a wall of sound. Separating out the songs of
individual species was tricky at times, but with careful listening we managed to pick
out the jaunty notes of the abundant Great, Blue and Coal Tits, as
well as the lively descending song of the Chaffinch, with its characteristic
final flourish. Less accomplished singers also joined in, such as the Woodpigeon with
its distinctive series of rhythmic five-note cooing and the Collared Dove with its own
three-note version, and these simpler songs added another dimension to the whole
experience. All the while the Wrens, Blackbirds, Song Thrushes and Robins
continued to belt out their songs as we listened intently for any new performers.
Before long we had one, and a nice one too. Brian darted across to an area of
hedgerow and told everyone to pay attention to the beautiful melodic stream of fast,
melancholy notes poring from a low bush - the song of a male Blackcap.
This striking little warbler is sometimes referred to as “Ireland’s Nightingale”, not so
much because the two species sound alike but more because of the Blackcap’s renown
as a particularly fine songster. As Nightingales do not occur in Ireland, the song of
the Blackcap has filled the role in literature and folklore here that is traditionally
occupied by the Nightingale in much of the rest of Europe. We all enjoyed good
views of this little bird as it seemed to sing for all it was worth; I’d prefer it to the
somewhat gaudy, show-off song of the Nightingale any day.
Another sound then cut through the chorus, a short, slurred and very high-pitched call
announcing that a Treecreeper was somewhere close by. We found it, rather
appropriately, creeping up a nearby tree, and all had excellent close views of this
cryptic little insect-hunter. Nearby we also heard a long, low, drawn-out rasp, one of
the songs given by the Greenfinch, and soon we saw several flitting about in
the trees. As we walked on Brian stopped suddenly and pointed out the harsh,
scolding scream of a distant Jay, a very scarce bird in south Co. Dublin and
certainly the first report of this species in Cabinteely that I have heard for several
years. It was a long way off, however, and we didn’t manage to catch sight of this
beautiful member of the crow family. We did happen upon a stunning pair of
Bullfinches, however, sitting in a tangle of bushes a little further along the
path, flashing their white rumps as they flew away on our approach. Not the most
powerful of singers, they certainly compensated for this with their beautiful
appearance, and were a welcome addition to the outing.
As the morning wore on the variety and volume of the chorus gradually decreased as
the birds stopped singing and started to attend to their other duties, most importantly
finding food. Perhaps sensing some wisdom in this, being similarly peckish following
our own early-morning exertions, we walked back to Cabinteely House where the
staff of the Parks Department had very kindly laid on breakfast for us. After we had
eaten they led us on a guided tour of the beautifully-maintained house and answered
our questions about the history of the building. This was very good of them,
particularly in light of the fact that it was 7:00am on a Sunday morning, and
special thanks must go to them for their outstanding generosity to us every
year and for allowing us access to the park well outside normal opening hours.
All-in-all, then, a very successful morning and well worth the early start. If you have
never been on a Dawn Chorus outing I really would urge you to give it a go and join
us next year; it really does add a whole new dimension to our pastime and will give
you a new appreciation of our feathered friends. The level of activity is absolutely
astounding as the birds mark out their territories and try to attract mates, and you get a
far truer picture of just how many birds there are around than you ever could just by
using your eyes. More than anything, though, it serves as a timely reminder of the
vitality of nature and the fact that summer is now well and truly upon us.
Niall Hatch
As usual, the Kilkoole trip gave everyone present the chance to see a good
variety of birds, in a really beautiful setting. The day was bright and
sunny, and the easterly winds kept things cool. Exciting reports of exotic
migrants kept our hopes high. As we gathered by the car park we had great
views of Stonechats, Greenfinces, Goldfinches, Wren and the always popular
(but possibly declining) House Sparrow. Meadow Pipits were in the field as
we entered the railway. Dick Coombes pointed out a group of migrating
Lesser Black-backed Gulls, heading north close to shore. In the Birdwatch
Ireland reserve there were a few Teal, as well as Lapwings and Redshanks.
The Moorhens were very active, and it is always fun to watch them this time
of year when they are displaying - the male runs along the ground flashing
his white tail feathers, looking ever so enticing to the ladies. Of great
interest in the reserve was a lone Ruff, an unusual chunky-looking wader,
known for its variation in appearance and size. Out in the sea Sandwich
Terns were spotted, and later we saw some diving. At one point a
Red-Throated Diver gave tantalising glimpses through the waves, although it
was easier to spot the Cormorants. Linnets perched on the nearby fence as a
Little Egret flew by, settling into a reedbed. A couple of Skylarks gave
very close views near the fence, as did a Reed Bunting. Herons, Shelducks
and Brent were plentiful, and there were a few Greylag Geese around also.
One male Shoveller sat calmly in the water, quite a handsome duck in the
sunlight. A flock of Golden Plovers gave spectacular views, being in
breeding plumage with their black bellies. We saw them overhead in flight,
and also standing in a field not far away. Ringed Plovers, Dunlins,
Redshanks and Turnstones graced the water's edges, while Oystercatchers
rested in the fields with the geese. A Kestrel hovered nearby and stayed
aloft long enough for all to see it quite well. Some of us had our lunch at
the bridge, hoping to see an otter, but happy enough to have the company of
two Mute Swans to finish up a delightful outing.
Michael Murphy
I must confess on occasions I've gone along to
branch outings nursing the hope that nobody else will turn up; Not because the weather
is bad and I know I'm going to get very cold or very wet. That comes with the territory
with bird watching, you expect to be cold and miserable and suffer for your birds. After
all, no pain, no gain.
No, the reason I sometimes hope nobody will turn up is that in certain places,
particularly woodland,
if it's going to be windy you're not likely to see many, if any, birds and you
hate to take people out to see birds when there aren't any there.
Going out to mudflats you know the birds will still be there,
they have no choice but to feed while they can. Likewise birds that spend their lives
on the sea aren't going to be bothered by a bit of rain when they regularly sit on top of
crashing waves. It may be more difficult to see them but they'll be there. But passerines
in trees are a different matter. Why would they be hanging onto a branch for dear
life with the wind howling up their feathers, when there's no insects to feed on and
nobody is going to hear them if they start singing*.
Thus it was on Sunday lOth March when I set out for the Phoenix park. The previous day had
seen wicked sleet showers and bitterly cold winds and the forecast for today was even worse,
strong gales and frequent showers predicted.
But birders are a hardy bunch and sometimes it seems the worse the weather the greater the
challenge so it was no surprise when a small group
Assembled at the park gates. Our scout Dennis McGrane had
driven ahead to check the route to
the Furry Glen so it was a surprise to see him walking back.
The clutch had gone in his car and
he would have to forgo the outing and wait for someone to tow
him. One down and we hadn't
even started.
We pointed out a Woodpigeon sitting on a branch since this might
be the only bird we'd see. We
drove off in convoy to the Furry Glen and some locals guided us
to a very convenient car park. As we set off on foot two birds
flying into some trees behind us attracted our attention. It was a
pair of Bullfinches who stayed still long enough for us all
to get good views. Nearly always seen in pairs
since tthey mate for life. Bullfinches are a very
smart little bird with their neat rounded bodies, black caps,
the males red underparts and the
females subtler colours. Always a treat to see. Soon after we
saw Coal Tits perched nearby and as we watched Blue and
Great Tits moved around the hedgerows. That section of the
Furry Glen had
been closed to traffic and it was a very pleasent walk but the
birds werc still few and far between. We saw Mallards on the
pond and a briefly glimpsed Long Tailed Tit but the branches swayed
above us and some very dark clouds headed
towards us.
We had hoped to see Jays, one of the specialities of the
Phoenix Park and the most exotic member of the crow family.
The profusion of mature parkland and great varity of trees
makes it a very suitable
habitat for the jay, particularly the abundance
of mature Oak trees. Acorns are one of the jay's favourite food
and their habit of burying them to store for later is often the
cause of young oaks taking root and spreading the perimiters of
many an oak wood. Generally secretive but often recognised by their
racous call, like a wild laugh, or a flash of pinkish brown
plumage and white rump as they fly through the trees. But
not today.
But the rain stayed off, the sun shone, a vast herd
of fallow deer provided a great spectacle and the sheer
beauty of the park kept everybody in a good mood. We met a
'birder' who comes to the park every Sunday and said this
was the first Sunday in ages be hadn't seen a Jay. Evidently
they had got up, fed and then settled down somewhere out of
the wind, and you couldn't blame them.
We cbecked out the pond opposite the Ordnance Survey
grounds and saw Mallard, Moorhen & Little Grebe
(Dabchick}. The wind was bitingly cold outside the tree
shelter as we walked back.
Although no Jays seen we'd been out for a three hour walk
through lovely woodland, hadn't got
wet, new friends were made and everybody seemed happy.
And we'd seen that lovely pair of Bullfinches.
Michael Ryan
* (Mistle Thrushes being the major exception, their habit of
singing from the highest treetop in the
wind earned them the name "Windcock")
These were the star-attractions of a four-day birding trip to the Netherlands. Four Birdwatch Ireland members Aileen Prole, Niall Hatch and Ray Wills of the South Dublin Branch were joined by Eddie Foyle of the Tipperary Branch, for what was for all, to be a most exciting trip
The highlight of the trip was the superb views of seven Black Grouse, this number represented 20% of the Netherlands breeding population. In particular one male was caught in full sunlight and revealed the purple green sheen of the plumage the red eyebrow and the lyre shaped tail. The sighting of a male Goshawk as it flew six feet from the hide showing its slate grey plumage and white under-parts,an awesome bird of prey.
The sighting of the Bittern surpassed even our wildest expectations. The Bittern remained in full view for at least 20 minutes. It was hunting for and catching frogs at the edge of a reed-bed. During the period it was possible to study the bird in detail it was possible to observe all its distinguishing features including the head and throat patterns. It obliged a number of times by adopting the "bitterning" posture.
Whilst these were the main attractions, there were many other experiences which added to the enjoyment of the trip, these include the spellbinding sight of a Merlin chasing and catching a Skylark, only to be immediately pursued by a Peregrine. The spectacular sight of 20,000 Barnacle Geese taking to the air also has to be included.
The Netherlands represents an excellent and accessible birding location for four days. This period gives a good opportunity to visit the range of habitats the country has to offer. During the trip we clocked-up 124 species and all members of the party obtained some life-time ticks. The guide for our trip was Mark Kuiper of NatuurBeleven and he can be contacted at
Mark@natuurbeleven.nl
Ray Wills
The RSPB's Harbour Lagoon reserve on Belfast Lough was a new destination
for the Branch: very few on the full coach had previously visited the site. The
reserve hides almost under the shadow of Harland & Wolff's giant cranes on
the south bank of the Lagan. The lagoon was built in the '70s to hold silt
from dredging operations in the docks and, when abandoned, it filled with
rainwater. It is now put to better use with a state-of-the-art hide allowing
close up views of the birds who've colonised it. And were we glad of that hide
on a very wet, if mild, morning!
High tide is the best time to visit when the birds are displaced there from the
harbour. It teems with large gulls, duck and waders. Shelduck, Shoveller and
Widgeon were plentiful and a Pintail came up close to the hide. Flocks of
Lapwing, Black-tailed Godwit and Curlew roost on the many small banks and
islands. Snipe were seen on the western edges and Water Rail allegedly
emerge from the reeds close to the hide but they escaped me.
Among the gulls a pale-white, herring gull sized bird was initially identified as
a Glaucous by a local birder. It was an ideal opportunity to compare it with
Herring, Lesser and Great Black-back. On mature reflection it was agreed
that it was in fact an Icelandic Gull: there must be a lesson there
somewhere.
The scrub immediately out front of the hide swarmed with Linnets and Reed
Bunting, just about the best views one could get. The highlight was of
course several Brambling amongst a flock of Chaffinch.
RSPB Belfast Lough is, I think everyone agreed, a great destination
particularly for those with little patience for looking down a 'scope at black
dots on the horizon.
In the afternoon with the rain moderating we drove back down to Oxford
Island on the east end of Lough Neagh. Out on the lake we had big numbers
of Tufted Duck and good views of Goldeneye displaying. These seemed to be
lost on many who retreated to the visitor's centre, the inevitable fate of
visitor and interpretative centres!
Back northeast to one of the hides and inland from it was some pasture
dotted with Whooper Swans and Greylag Geese. No one was prepared to call
a Bewick at that distance. From the hide we had Pochard, Tufted and
Goldeneye, but the light was fading early.
The fact that so many enjoyed the day despite the weather says it all about
Belfast Lough. No doubt we'll be back!
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So it was then that I found myself in a pitch-black field just before 9:00 p.m. on Friday, 6th September last, waiting for the Muckrace to start. With me were my 3 team-mates, Matt Sarver, Matt Williams and Bob Fogg, all veteran Cornell student birders, and together we were ‘The Beasts of Birding’. Preparation is the key in an event like this, where the goal is to see or hear as many species of birds as possible in a 24 hour period, and we had spent much time over the previous week scouting out locations and fine-tuning our route. The field in which we were standing was our secret owl spot, where we hoped to hear the three expected local owl species as soon after 9:00 as possible. In previous years these had taken hours to track down, but this time the skies were clear and the wind was low, and by 9:02 we had them - Great Horned, Eastern Screech and Barred, all calling clearly out of the darkness. We hoped that our luck hadn’t peeked too early; we’d need a lot more of it if we were to place well out of the 20 other teams ranged against us.
So we parked the car, retrieved our previously-stashed bicycles and set off, ruing our inability to track down any thrushes at all during the night and hoping that it wouldn’t hurt our chances too badly. But then, when we had given up hope, a huge mixed thrush flock descended into the trees all around us, calling incessantly to each other. A few seconds of careful listening was all it took for us to confirm that they were there, all of them, as we picked off Veery, Grey-cheeked Thrush, Swainson’s Thrush, Wood Thrush and American Robin in quick succession (it was too early in the season for the final eastern species, Hermit Thrush). We couldn’t believe our luck - we didn’t hear or see any other thrushes for the rest of the day. We cycled on along the steep trails and due either to careful planning or extreme luck (take your pick) we reached our chosen clearing just as the sun’s first rays lit up the sky. Suddenly there were birds everywhere: Red-eyed Vireos, Scarlet Tanagers, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, American Goldfinches, Cedar Waxwings, Black-capped Chickadees and a host of others just dripping from the trees. As we stood there and tried to take in as much of the spectacle as possible, a slender, long-winged dark shape floated past us, turned around in the air and flapped back across the clearing. It was a Whip-poor-will, a species of nightjar named for its odd whistling song, and a very, very scarce bird in this area of New York state. Just when we thought things couldn’t get any better we heard a harsh barking sound coming from a nearby stand of pines - a Long-eared Owl, another very rare bird in this region. As it turned out, we were the only team in the competition who found either of these species on the day, despite the fact that we gleefully watched as one of our rival teams walked right past them both.
After our exertions on Howland Island we gratefully returned to our car and set off to visit some other locations. Our first stop was a beautiful pine-fringed lake where we searched unsuccessfully for kinglets but instead found Belted Kingfisher, Baltimore Oriole and Yellow-rumped Warbler. Next we visited some grassland and scrub areas for Song, Swamp, Savannah and Chipping Sparrows, picking up several soaring raptors along the way, then made our second visit of the day to the Montezuma auto-loop where we soon located all the expected duck species. As we drove we suddenly spotted a huge dark shape perched high in a tree - a beautiful Bald Eagle, the symbol of the refuge. We drove on to the viewing platforms and scanned the mudflats for gulls and waders, finding both species of Yellowlegs (Greater and Lesser), Semipalmated Plover and Sandpiper, Least Sandpiper, Baird’s Sandpiper, Pectoral Sandpiper, White-rumped Sandpiper and many others, not to mention a few huge carrot-billed Caspian Terns. There was an unexpected reminder of home waiting there for me, too: as we scanned through the dense American Wigeon flock on the far shore we were delighted to spot a striking red-headed drake Eurasian Wigeon, a rare vagrant to North America - if you go up to Rogerstown Estuary now you can have this experience in reverse.
From there we went to tick off some of the more localised species that we had scouted out during the previous few days, visiting various gardens to find birds such as Eastern Bluebird, House Finch, Brown-headed Cowbird and even the humble House Sparrow. Close scrutiny of roadside powerlines also gave us a few unexpected bonus birds such as Purple Finch and Eastern Kingbird (a very good bird to find on the Muckrace, as it is one of the earliest migrants to leave the area). Yet another quick tour of the Montezuma auto-loop yielded a reclusive Marsh Wren but failed to produce the hoped-for Solitary Sandpipers. We had enough time, though, so we drove for about half and hour to our backup spot for this species and managed to find a waterthrush (a kind of warbler) there as a bonus (our view wasn’t good enough to determine whether it was a Northern or a Louisiana Waterthrush, but it was definitely one or the other). Then we made a mad dash to some recently ploughed stubble fields in the muddy Montezuma Mucklands area for which the race is named to search for Horned Lark and Killdeer (a type of plover) and returned once more to the refuge.
In the Birdwatch reserve the returning migrants were scarce but we had several Dunlin, with some Lapwing to add a touch of the exotic. Several Grey Herons stalked the marsh.
Overhead however large numbers of Swallows and House Martins flocked preparing to head south. Among them was a very late-staying Swift. Stephen McAvoy got a glimpse of a Kingfisher flying up along the stream by the railway, a not very common sight at Kilcoole.
As there was little else to see at Shannon Harbour, we decided to drive on to our next
stop, the town of Banagher. Here we met up with Alex Copeland, BirdWatch
Ireland's Corncrake Project Officer, who is based in the town and had kindly agreed
to guide us on a tour of the meadows where the Corncrakes nest. On the way, we
stopped at the bridge over the Shannon, where large numbers of House Martins nest
and hunt for insects over the water. We spent a few minutes watching them flying
low over the river, where they were joined by several Swallows, and this presented a
great opportunity for all present to see at first hand how best to distinguish these two
similar species. A family of Grey Wagtails also entertained us as they teetered about
on the riverbank, and it was a real pleasure to see the young birds at such close
quarters.
