Glorious Garside
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been birding – every now and then, you find another huge gap in your knowledge, as Matt Merritt did
Plugging an upland birding knowledge gap in scenic surroundings in Cumbria
I’ d been in Garsdale five minutes when I realised that one big gap in my experience was upland birding in the UK, and especially in late spring. Previously, it’s been restricted to odd days in the Peak District or North Wales, and a week in the Scottish Highlands (most of my visits there have been in early spring or autumn).
This was different. Right on cue, the relentless cold and wet of May lifted just as I drove across from the Vale of York, through the Yorkshire Dales National Park, and just over the border from the Broad Acres into Cumbria.
I was staying at Garsdale Head, where the scenic Settle to Carlisle railway line stops as it threads between the fells. No sooner had I got out of the car than there were the sounds of waders all around me, or two particular waders, at least. From the higher ground nearer the railway came the call that gives the Curlew its name, while lower down, next to the little beck, there was the urgent piping of Oystercatchers.
It wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that during the three days I spent in the National Park, at least one of those two sounds was ever-present.
A pair of Kestrels called to each other from a tall tree nearby – presumably they had a nest site there – and Song Thrushes performed their improvisations from perches every couple of hundred yards along the main road. Interestingly, virtually every Song Thrush I heard during my stay (and there were plenty) incorporated a Curlew-style call into their repertoire, presumably because they hear it so often. Indeed, one did an absolutely perfect imitation.
One other thing before we move further afield. On my last night, I was standing outside the cottage having a last scan with my binoculars, when I saw a wader flying towards me. Aha, I thought! A Snipe! I’d been baffled at the lack of Snipe during my travels, but here was one. Except it wasn’t. As it got closer, I could see that it was a Woodcock. There was a very small plantation opposite the cottage, and a larger one at the top of the hill, but it still seemed an unusual bird to see amid the mostly bare fells.
Next day, I headed west, and made my first stop at Longstone Common, which
offers wonderful views towards the Howgill Fells and over the valley of the Rawthey.
More Curlews went over, pouring out their bubbling song, while Meadow Pipits and Sky Larks were everywhere, too. From the trees down near the beck came the songs of several Willow Warblers, so I walked down to have a look.
Having reached a narrow stone bridge, I leaned over to look for Dippers. No luck, but as I turned to my left, I realised there was a female Sparrowhawk perched on a protruding stone, a metre away. We gawped at each other in surprise for a second, then she flew away giving me the sort of glare that Sparrowhawks reserve for pretty much every occasion.
By the water
I drove the short distance to the picturesque village of Dent, all cobbled streets and stone cottages amid glorious fells. It was warm and sunny, and Swifts, House Martins and Swallows seemed to be carving up the air everywhere, whereas when I’d left home the day before, it had been difficult to find more than the odd individual of any of those species.
The better weather was one reason, no doubt, but I suspect that another was the fact that you’re rarely far from water in this part of the world – babbling streams, small pools, and standing floodwater in some of the valley bottoms. That means insects, and the Swifts and hirundines, were intent on making the most of this all-you-can- eat buffet.
So, too, were Pied Wagtails (another species that seemed very numerous and widespread wherever I went), with a couple of Grey Wagtails for comparison and contrast. And, as I watched, a Spotted Flycatcher took up position in a waterside tree, before darting out repeatedly to hawk insects.
I spent the rest of the day driving, slowly, back into the heart of the National Park. I made a stop at Cotter Force, but while the waterfalls are worth seeing in their own right, there was a disappointing lack of Dippers, I suspect because there were quite a few people around. They’re probably there, or close by, but keeping their heads down.
So I made do with more Curlews and Oystercatchers, plus Lapwings wheeling and ‘pee-witting’, Nuthatches in the streamside trees, and the chance to compare Song Thrush and Mistle Thrush, before heading on to Hawes.
It, too, boasted the three aforementioned waders, screaming Swifts, and plenty of hirundines, but no Dippers or Common Sandpipers. But again, it was unusually busy, with motorbikers, so perhaps the birds were just keeping out of sight.
So, next day, I tried driving along the valley from Garsdale to Kirkby Stephen. The scenery was glorious, there was barely a car or person to be seen, and the birding was good.
There were some more Curlews, Lapwings and Oystercatchers everywhere (don’t worry, I never get tired of them), Sky Larks and Meadow Pipits singing, and Buzzards overhead.
Best of all, the river here (the Eden) has plenty of wide, open, stony ‘beaches’ on its meanders, and sure enough, checking them produced pairs of Common Sandpipers each time. They’re great little
waders, bobbing up and down, and flickering to and fro with their strangely stiff-winged flight.
Dippers tend to prefer the stretches of river that have a few more trees and bushes lining them, and no sooner had I found such a stretch, than I found a pair of Dippers. And then another. And another. I could have watched them all day, so wonderfully bizarre are they and their behaviour.
For the likes of those upland specialists, Ring Ouzel and Whinchat, you need to get a bit more off the beaten track, and up onto the fells themselves. There will be at least some strenuous walking, no matter where you go, and you need to make sure you’ve got some good walking boots, plenty of water, and warm and waterproof clothing, because the weather can change very quickly.
Once you’re up there, the Whinchats I saw were rather less confiding than their Stonechat cousins, but they share their liking for perching on fenceposts, low wires, and small bushes.
Sights aplenty
Later, I drove over to just west of Sedbergh, and took a quick look at Killington Reservoir. It was quiet, but I have stopped here in the past, on the way to and from Scotland, and it can get good birds during passage periods, such as Common Scoter. There were a couple of Barnacle Geese with the Canadas, but while I’d have liked to have imagined the former as stay-behinds from the population that winters on the Solway, they actually had feral origins. Nearby, Burns Beck Moss is a small Cumbria Wildlife Trust reserve, with no facilities, but some excellent birds and flora – 16 species of sphagnum moss, Bog Rosemary, Cranberry, Bog Asphodel, Round-leaved Sundew, Marsh Cinquefoil, Bog Myrtle, Sneezewort and Yellow Water Lily, all viewed from the wellmarked paths and boardwalks (some sections are closed at the moment).
Buzzards and Ravens were soaring and squabbling overhead, at least two Cuckoos sang, the Alders and willows were full of Willow Warblers and yet more Spotted Flycatchers, and close to the lane Siskins fed on thistles while Lesser Redpolls twittered in the nearby trees. A small quarried area just off the lane was also good for Spotted Flycatchers, and as I watched them, I heard a familiar sound in the tops of nearby pines, and looked up to see a glorious flock of Crossbills.
I bade farewell after finding Whinchat and Wheatear on nearby gorse and fields, respectively, and made my way back to Garsdale Head, to spend the evening among more Curlew song and swirling, scything Swifts and hirundines.
As a taste of what the area has to offer, this was a perfect three days – on a longer stay, you could certainly enjoy some much longer walks, or cycle rides if that’s your thing, and you’re within easy reach of the Lakes and the birdlife that they have to offer, or the Forest of Bowland.
Leighton Moss RSPB is only 40 minutes or so away, too, and as I was going that way home, it would have been a shame not to call in. No Bearded Tits, this time, but the Marsh Harriers were quartering the reedbeds, and I enjoyed watching some very confiding Bullfinches and Marsh Tits. With the latter, it was a chance to test some of those ID pointers for a species that I don’t see very often. And yes, the tell-tale white mark on the base of the lower bill mandible was there.
You see, there’s always something new to learn. At Garsdale Head, I learned plenty, not least that I’ll be needing to make a return visit.