Ingham’s W RLD
ONE of my petrolhead friends cannot understand birdwatching. For him nothing beats the roar of an engine or the whiff of oily rags. He can’t think of anything worse than wandering about the countryside in peace and quiet. At times even I find my interest hard to explain. Time and again I’m driven to distraction by birds that flit past, convinced they’re something special but unable to be sure.
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been baffled by silhouettes bouncing off into the distance. Were they just goldfinches or something fancier – linnets, siskin or redpoll?
But still I go out, a bit like a jobbing actor clinging on in the hope of a starring role, always on the lookout for something spectacular.
On Sunday at my local Surrey Wildlife Trust reserve, a chain of water-filled sandpits near Merstham, disappointment once again looked to be the order of the day. A few gulls, cormorants and dozy ducks were the main attractions.
But another birdwatcher told me about a jack snipe – a mediumsized wader – at the far end of the network.
I’d never seen one of them before, so off I went, ever hopeful. When I reached Jack Snipe Central, a pair of birders more expert than me let me look down a scope at a small brown blob hiding in the reeds. “That’s the jack snipe,” they said.
They moved on and I waited… and waited… and then it tiptoed out into the water, a refugee from Scandinavia’s snow and ice, to perform its trademark dance routine. It bobbed up and down on legs like springs, so relentless it looked to be bursting for the loo.
I was lucky. Jack snipe are very hard to spot, feeding at dusk and spending the rest of their time skulking. As my Nordic visitor melted back into the reeds, I was dazzled by a brilliant blue speck against the reedbed’s tawny backdrop. A kingfisher – not much bigger than a sparrow – was perched on a slender branch watching out for sticklebacks.
I got him in my scope at maximum magnification and he repaid my dedication by basking in the sun, letting me admire every detail of his plumage. And what a plumage – brick-red tummy, white throat, dark blue wings, turquoise back, a blue and black crown, all building up to a black dagger bill. Well if you’ve got it, flaunt it.
Then he darted off, a whirring bolt of blue low over the water, a vibrant flying jewel. Breathtaking. It felt like a private audience with beauty, a glimpse of a wild world given only to a lucky few.
And that’s how I found the answer for my petrolhead pal. I like birdwatching because it makes me happy. A NEW species can develop in just two generations, US and Swedish researchers tell Science. In 1981 a stray cactus finch flew to the Galapagos and mated with a smaller local finch. Their offspring mated with each other and a new species – Big Bird – was born. Now there are 30 on the islands where Darwin’s theory of evolution was born. PESTICIDE use has soared over the past 40 years, the Royal Society of Medicine heard this week. The weight of pesticides sprayed on our fields may have halved, but the number of active ingredients has risen up to 18-fold, said organic farming’s Soil Association. And we wonder why our farmland birds such as grey partridges and tree sparrows have suffered catastrophic declines. GREEN TIP: Re-use or recycle plastic bottles. About 700,000 are thrown away in the UK every day. A SPA for whales has been found in Cumberland Sound in northern Canada. Every summer bowhead whales flock there to feed. But Canadian scientists tell PLOS One that the 80-ton giants also like to exfoliate there. The whales rub themselves against large underwater boulders to remove dead skin. WOODLAND birds seem rather confused. In the past few days I’ve heard my first song thrush singing in months, joined by great tits, robins and nuthatches. Friends across the country have noticed this too. The mild weather may be making the birds think love is in the air. But a cold snap will soon cool their ardour.