Weedon’s World
In early June, at a secret site not far from his home, Mike saw what he is calling the ‘bird of the year’
Mike sees his ‘bird of the year’ at a secret site not far from his home
My experience of Montagu’s Harriers has always been limited, and my memories are as hazy and shimmery as the summers’ days in which they were first formed. My earliest memory of them is from 1980, when I was 15 and visiting France with my Uncle Peter and his family. Or was it my older brother, Chris, who implanted this false memory in my head, recounting his tales from the previous summer?
When I was geology student, in 1985, our class had a field-trip to the Île de Groix, near Lorient, Brittany. The idea was to practise ‘mapping’ the highly folded rocks. I was never particularly into folded rocks
(or mapping), and was much more taken by the male Montagu’s Harrier flying close to our coach, just after we arrived on the island. So buoyant, so elegant, so beautiful.
My first Monty’s in the UK was an orange-bellied juvenile bird at Elmley on the Isle of Sheppey, Kent, in the 1990s. Since then, I have seen families at the breeding grounds: at north Norfolk’s worst-kept secret site, and at an official RSPB watchpoint in south Lincolnshire. I have also seen a few elsewhere in Europe and in Asia; but only one in my ‘local’ area, also a young ‘ringtail’ found by some visiting birders from further south, one June day, a few years ago and kept secret at a site which will remain nameless.
The furtiveness was because Montagu’s Harrier is now an exceptionally rare breeding bird in the UK, and June is the breeding season. Probably fewer than five pairs breed, perhaps fewer than one. So, secrecy is paramount to protect the birds from those that would do the harriers harm (mainly by collecting their eggs, with this species). It could be argued that Montagu’s Harriers are now harder to see in the UK than Pallid Harriers, which were once legendarily rare birds, but have become almost regular and expected.
Actually, I have not seen one Montagu’s Harrier, locally, I have seen two. May this year had been a miserably cold and wet month, but over the weekend of the late bank holiday, the weather changed and a sunny, warm and even hot spell extended well into June. In the early evening of the bank holiday Monday (31 May), I got a call from a very reliable birder to say he had just seen a male Montagu’s Harrier at a site (which will also remain nameless) just 20 minutes from my Peterborough home.
Twenty minutes later I was with him and one other local birder, but the bird had not been seen since the phone call. I listened to the description, I even saw a back of camera photo and there was no doubt of the ID (there never really was) and I was feeling ‘the grip’ pretty badly [translation: I was suffering the pain of missing out on great bird]. But these things happen; even if the bird had been hunting over what looks like perfect Monty’s country, they have a habit of hunting then moving through, just as my previous bird had. But, we decided to hang on and wait, even though the situation was looking increasingly hopeless…
It was approaching an hour later when the other (scoping) birder I mentioned said, almost casually, “I’ve got a harrier flying towards us… that’s it”. And it was it. Although the light was bad, and the bird quite distant, there, gliding low over the ground was a simply superb looking, almost full-adult, male Montagu’s Harrier. It is easy to forget how ‘dark’ grey they are (compared with male Hen Harriers), how small and slim, how thin-winged and narrow-tailed, how unmistakably buoyant and floaty, how thrilling and dynamic.
It was the bird of the year. My heart was thumping.
The harrier looked comfortable in its surroundings and stayed on, choosing a post to rest on and even appearing to go to roost concealed in a nearby area of low vegetation. The next morning, I was there before the sun rose, and the harrier was already back on its favoured post, preening and napping, napping and preening. I watched it for more than an hour before it decided at just after 6am that it was time for a bit of hunting and took off.
It is a shame that such a great bird could not be more widely publicised, but there was always a chance it could hang around and even breed, so secrecy was the order of the day. But what a bird. It was weeks ago, and I am still buzzing!
TRANSLATION: I WAS SUFFERING THE PAIN OF MISSING OUT ON A GREAT BIRD