Weedon’s World
So begins another My200birdyear, and what better way to kick things off than with a Big Day? At least, that’s what Mike thinks...
Mike kicks off the New Year with a Big Day of birding! But how did he fare?
Can you remember New Year’s Day? I remember it like it was yesterday; mainly because it was yesterday. In Scotland, they have a double bank holiday for Hogmanay. I am not sure why they need an extra day off, but I am all for it. Not because of the drinking and first footing or fireworks and late night shenanigans and what not. But because, every year, I join a plethora of fellow birders and head out, full of hope, embarking on the great challenge of a New Year Big Day. And, like all big days, it is exhausting, and I could do with another day of ‘rest’ to recover. As it happens, I also remember the first of January, 10 years ago. It was a legendary New Year Big Day in the Peterborough area, and one of the last times when the weather was half-decent throughout the first day of the year. It was also the year I was on crutches, having ruptured my Achilles’ tendon a couple of weeks previously. But, despite this, our rather loose ‘team’ (in two cars) saw a total of nearly 100 species around here, and I got a personal record 95 species. Gales, rain, snow, ice and fog over the intervening decade have consistently suppressed our chances of bettering this total. But the forecast for 1 January 2018 was excellent for birding: fine, yet mild, and fog and rain free. Our team was me, my son Eddie, and regular ‘big day’ partner, Will Bowell. We kicked off this year in the west of our area, in Collyweston Great Wood and Easton Hornstocks. Tawny Owl kicked things off, and before 8am, we had already ticked Siskin, Jay and the increasingly scarce Marsh Tit. By 8.45, we had whizzed east along the A47, past Red Kites and Buzzards, and were at Ferry Meadows, serenaded by singing Song Thrushes (that’s how mild it was) and enjoying bird number 40, a beautiful Nuthatch drawn to the ‘feeding stump’ by a crumbled fortnight-old biscuit Ed suddenly found in his pocket… After a detour to get the ‘hard stare’ from a traditional Little Owl on a favoured ancient willow, we hit the Deepings area, north of Peterborough. There, we were able to add Grey Wagtail, Golden Plover, Redshank and the often very difficult Jack Snipe at Maxey, where there was also a nice little flock of flirtatious Goosanders. Further north, at the Baston and Langtoft pit complex, the weather was so mild that several of the wintering Corn Buntings were in full jangly song. Here, we bumped into some birding friends who asked me if I had seen their text. I hadn’t. So, they filled us in that a Long-tailed Duck had been found on the River Welland a few miles away. By the time (lunchtime) we caught up with the little sea duck with its Tufted Duck sidekicks, our list had reached 77. A nearby Stonechat made it 78 and Deeping Lakes LWT delivered Pintail, a staked out Scaup, Goldeneye and our fourth owl species: Long-eared, roosting in its usual ivy-covered tree. Everything was going well until the afternoon when the less than 5% chance of rain turned into a protracted downpour, and my team promptly fell into a gloom and then sleep! We reached the March Farmers area of the Nene Washes east of Peterborough in very nasty rain and wind. Birding was difficult, morale at a terrible low. All the promise the day had held had been betrayed and we were destined for a typical, dismal washout, just like every year. But there were still birds; thousands and thousands of them. Masses of Teal, Wigeon, hundreds of Pintail; huge flocks of Lapwing and Golden Plover. I dared to get out of the car, and opened the hatchback to get my scope out and make a barrier against the rain. Will woke up and joined me and soon we had picked out a perched Peregrine, a flock of Ruff with a single Dunlin, and a fly-by Black-tailed Godwit. By the time we drove a few miles west to Eldernell, the rain had stopped and we were resigned to day list mediocrity. But we could see (and tick) Cranes and Marsh Harriers. And when our second Barn Owl of the day pounced on a vole, the sun burst through, pouring delicious golden light on it and as if by magic, half a dozen Short-eared Owls poured into the same field, hunting and fighting and perching and hunting some more. Our fifth owl of the day was not our last tick, though. That honour went to the humble Greenfinch. It was bird number 98 for the team, beating even our decade-old record. Next year, it’s the ton! Weather permitting.
The promise the day had held had been betrayed and we were destined for a typical, dismal washout, just like every year
Mike is an obsessive patch lister and keen wildlife photographer in his home city of Peterborough, where he lives with his wife, Jo, and children, Jasmine and Eddie. You can see his photos at weedworld.blogspot.com