Expect the unexpected
How a usual birding trip can turn into something much more exciting
A birding trip can turn into something much more exciting through the unpredictability of wildlife, as Ruth joyfully discovers
Autumn is always an exciting time to be out birdwatching, and if you like walking and birdwatching combined, then the Isle of Anglesey, or Ynys Môn to give it its Welsh name, off the North Wales coast, is a great place to visit. The Anglesey coastal path fringes this beautiful island for 125 miles, mostly along the very edge. In a few places the path cuts inland to avoid private property on the coast, such as the Bodorgan estate, where Prince William and Kate lived when he served at RAF Valley, on Anglesey, as part of the their Search and Rescue Force. It is no surprise that walkers weren’t able to traipse across their front lawn! But, overall, the footpath follows the ins and outs of the coastline, making navigation extremely easy and the views simply wonderful.
One of my favourite sections is along the north coast of Anglesey, starting from Cemlyn Bay. The land here is owned by the
National Trust and it is also a nature reserve managed by the North Wales Wildlife Trust; so this double protection preserves the coastline here for all to enjoy.
It is the site of Wales’s largest breeding tern colony, and during the summer months, the air is filled with snowflakes, or so it seems, as hundreds of Sandwich, Arctic and Common Terns ply to and fro, bringing fish to hungry chicks. Look closely and you may be lucky enough to pick out a Roseate Tern among the gathering, which also includes numerous Black-headed Gulls, as well as several pairs of striking Mediterranean Gulls.
Your ears are assaulted by raucous calls, particularly when the terns all rise in a ‘dread’, either because they have ‘spooked themselves’, or in response to an opportunistic Peregrine shooting through.
Cemlyn is a superb place to visit even outside the breeding season as, thanks to the mosaic of habitats, there is always plenty of interest here. The combination of shingle beach, rocky outcrops, saline lagoon, damp pasture, freshwater streams and patches of willow offer considerable variety, and this promontory on the north coast attracts migrants.
So, with the weather set fair, we headed out to Cemlyn, early one autumn morning, to walk part of the coastal path to see what we might find. The stretch we walked isn’t far in a straight line, as the Carrion Crow flies, but by the time you’ve tackled the uphills and downhills of the coastal cliffs and followed the curvaceous bends around individual bays, it makes for a good walk.
Beautiful migrant
We headed west from Cemlyn lagoon, and we soon found ourselves following a Wheatear along the coastal path. The straggling Hawthorn hedgerow here clung to the final inches of the cliff, providing shelter and plenty of insects for our beautiful migrant. It was a juvenile in pristine plumage, and it was incredibly obliging as it perched on a fencepost allowing for great photographs before it
dashed headlong after an unwary insect that had approached close by. Perhaps the Wheatear had not encountered too many humans in its short life, so far.
Further along the path, we paused by a sheltered area of damp reeds and willow scrub, just inland from the coast. By now the wind was picking up, so surely this quiet corner was an ideal spot for a migrant to lurk. Movement among the Phragmites caused the heart to race, before revealing a curious Reed Bunting, followed by another, then another, then a fourth as the whole family climbed up the reeds to observe us. A wispy sound made us look up to see a Snipe circling above our heads. Even as we watched, the Snipe swooped down to land on the ground just an arm’s length away. Who was more surprised, us or the Snipe?
Either way, we all briefly took stock of one another, then the Snipe rocketed skywards again before diving deep into the reeds and out of sight. What a moment!
But on this occasion, Bird of the Day wasn’t even a bird at all. Alan had stopped to watch some Gannets offshore as they were beating their way against a now quite appreciable headwind, always such a charismatic bird to see.
Suddenly he shouted, “Dolphins!” I focused my binoculars in the direction he was pointing and sure enough, a prominent swept-back fin broke the water, then another, then three more together. From the blunt shape of their heads and the large amount of back and sickle-shaped dorsal fin visible each time an animal broke the surface, we could tell they were Risso’s Dolphins.
Elder statesman
These animals were really motoring along at speed, and we picked out an increasing number of them, at least 16 dolphins, all following the same invisible line westwards, parallel to the coast. One animal was so pale it was almost white, making it stand out from the crowd, perhaps the elder statesman of the pod, as these dolphins become paler with age.
Each time it surfaced, it flapped its tail multiple times against the water, creating a huge splash. Was it trying to stun fish in the area? Or perhaps this was a signal for the others to follow, as they progressed further along the coast. One dark dolphin leapt full-length out of the water, a total breach, and we both ooh-ed and aah-ed like spectators at a firework display.
What an incredible encounter! Autumn is always an exciting time when ‘expect the unexpected’ is the watchword for any birdwatching trip, and we certainly hadn’t anticipated such an incredible display on the mammal front. It just goes to prove how the very unpredictability of wildlife is what makes watching it such a thrill.