Kentish Choughs…?

I first saw a Chough a few years ago, in Cornwall. These elegant members of the crow family, recognisable by their glossy black plumage and red beak and feet, started to recolonise the clifftops of Cornwall in the early twenty-first century after an absence of many years. It’s the county bird there, due in part to its association with the King Arthur legend. Officially speaking, the Chough of which I talk is known as the Red-billed Chough, and it’s pronounced “chuff”. Although I knew the bird when I saw it, I only knew it from books and had to ask someone how it is pronounced. 

The Chough also has associations with Kent. Somehow, it also became involved in the legends surrounding Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury who was murdered in his own cathedral in 1170 — one of the most notorious events in English history, which led to Canterbury becoming a major pilgrimage destination in the Middle Ages. Some time after his murder and subsequent canonisation, Becket was retrospectively given a coat-of-arms depicting three Choughs, and this in turn has become the coat-of-arms of the City of Canterbury. 

Quite why a clergyman who was born in London and died in Kent should have a Cornish bird associated with him is unclear; according to legend, one of them is supposed to have wandered into Canterbury Cathedral shortly after the murder. 

I’ve been to Kent a few times for work over the past month, visiting Canterbury and also Dover, principally the castle as far as the latter is concerned but also taking in the National Trust’s site atop the White Cliffs, just along from the castle which is managed by English Heritage. 

The views from the White Cliffs are amazing — the Port of Dover is laid out before and below you, Dover Castle (witter the church and the Roman lighthouse distinct from the central keep) on the horizon and the prospect of seeing France (just 21 miles away) on a clear day. It’s usually windy though! In terms of birds, there are plenty of gulls (particularly Herring Gulls) and crows (particularly Jackdaws), but also Blackbirds and Robins which are quite vocal and on one occasion I spotted a male Kestrel hovering in the wind, visible from the visitor centre. 

And then there are the Choughs.

A very recent rewilding project has seen Choughs from Cornwall being reintroduced to the chalk cliffs of Kent, where they died out over two centuries ago as a result of habitat loss and persecution. With the chalk grassland having been restored in recent years through the work of organisations like the Kent Wildlife Trust and the National Trust, the habitat to support them in Kent is in place. A chick was hatched last year and managed to fledge, but was sadly lost in strong winds. Rewilding always has its ups and downs, but as was the case from my visit to Edinburgh the other month, it’s great to see that efforts are being made on a local level the country to help give nature as good a future as it can have. 

I’m told that the best place to see the Kentish Choughs is in the area between the White Cliffs car park and the castle, and although I have yet to lay eyes on them in Kent I remain optimistic that I will do so at some point. Early morning is the best time apparently, although as I’m on a schedule for my visits to Kent I’m not usually there until the afternoon! 

Waders and rewilding in Edinburgh

This week I went up to Edinburgh for work. Usually I stay in the New Town, which is lovely, but this time (mainly because I drove up rather than took the train), I stayed down by the old docks on the southern shore of the Firth of Forth. Rather like London’s Docklands, Edinburgh’s dock area has undergone significant redevelopment in the past few decades; the former industrial dock area now boasts modern apartment blocks and so on. Leith has, by all accounts, been gentrified. 

I was staying at the approximate point where Leith meets Newhaven. As I was there for work and work is further along in Granton, my commute became a rather nice seashore walk.  I was glad I took my binoculars and bird book.

Down on the shore were various waders; those very distinctive Oystercatchers, a dozen Knots in winter plumage (surely a bit late for them?), a few Turnstones looking for food among the gulls, a couple of Redshanks and a few small ones which weren’t Turnstones. Waders aren’t my strongest suit by any means, but I was determined to figure out what these ones were. Black legs and bill, grey-brown back, white underparts. Dunlin, I reasoned — like the larger Knots, still in their winter plumage. 

Close to my hotel was Lighthouse Park, located on the small peninsula of land that was originally the western breakwater for one of the docks that comprises the Port of Leith. By the early twenty-first century this was the site of some property development comprising of apartment blocks, presumably rather pricey. This development, called Western Harbour, stalled in 2008 as a result of the financial crisis, with some of the planned sites undeveloped save for some access roads and half-dug foundations. Fascinatingly, nature has taken over at these places, now known as the Western Harbour Ponds. I spotted a Mute Swan, a pair of Mallard and many Goldfinches. 

Fenced off, these areas have rewilded — what were would-be building sites are now a cluster of small wildlife havens, within easy reach for local residents keen to appreciate nature. Two of them are in fact ponds, while the other two are wooded. Alas, a sign on one of the fences proclaimed that they are currently at risk — property developers are once again interested in the area, for obvious reasons. But it looks as though some local people would like to keep the Western Harbour Ponds as they currently are — and a good thing too. Green spaces are an important thing in the modern city. 

The Friends of Western Harbour Ponds website describes the Ponds as “a wonderful example of urban rewilding — a haven for native plant life, insects, bats and waterfowl … It has also become a very special place place for local residents and birdwatchers, who come to reconnect with nature, watch the wildlife and enjoy the tranquility of this ad-hoc blue-green space in an otherwise densely populated part of the city”. This visitor from London certainly enjoyed a few moments of tranquility before walking to work. I signed the online petition on the spot.

But my birding was not over yet! Looking out to sea, I saw something white and swimming. Another gull? There are many, many Herring and Lesser Black-backed Gulls around! But this looked to be something different. Always worth a closer look. Good job I brought my binoculars. 

Turned out, it was a male Eider! Fantastic spot. His female counterpart surfaced while I was looking. I have only seen Eiders once before, and that was a couple of years ago and not far from Edinburgh (just along the coast at Yellowcraig Beach), but I had not thought I’d see a pair at Leith docks. The following morning, just to show that this was no one-off, there were two pairs of Eiders swimming in Newhaven Harbour. 

 

A rewarding visit to a part of Edinburgh not previously explored! An area I’d definitely like to return to; I just hope that the Western Harbour Ponds will still be there when I do. 

The Starling (birds of East Finchley, part 3)

Continuing with my bird-by-bird look at the avian life of East Finchley (and yes, we will get to the finches at some point!), I’m looking at Starlings this time. Glossy black and speckled (more so in the autumn), and rather gregarious, the Common Starling (Sturnus vulgaris, also known as the European Starling in North America) always strikes me as being a winter bird even though it is in fact a resident here in Britain. 

It’s also on the RSPB’s red list according to my bird book (the RSPB Handbook of British Birds, 2021 edition) as the British Starling population has experienced a strong decline, although from what I can see (ie. Starlings most days when I go for a walk or look at the feeder in my front garden) they’re a regular sight. Unlike the smaller birds that visit, they’re not afraid of the parakeets!

Numbers have actually declined in much of Western Europe over the past few decades, due largely to changes in farming meaning that there are fewer invertebrates for them to feed on. Worldwide, though, they have been deemed to be of Least Concern by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (this being what you see when you look up a bird species on Wikipedia). They were introduced into North America in the nineteenth century, notably in 1890 when a chap called Eugene Schliffen released sixty of them in New York’s Central Park, although the notion that he had a plan (sorry, couldn’t resist!) to introduce every bird species mentioned in the works of William Shakespeare into the US appears to be an urban myth. 

Back here in Britain, the Starling is a resident bird s as though numbers do indeed swell in the winter as we get an influx of visitors from Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. 

Starlings are the great mimics of the bird world. Their song (and it’s mostly the males who do the singing) can be melodical and it can be mechanical, and they can imitate other birds as well as man-made sounds like car alarms. A general rule of thumb that I have with birdsong is that if I can’t figure out what it is, it’s safe to assume that it may be a Starling.

Perhaps that’s why I hear a lot of Starlings!

I cannot mention Starlings without mentioning murmurations — those close-formation swarms of large numbers of flying Starlings, synchronised yet random in terms of direction. It’s a sight to behold but I have only ever seen it once, at dusk on the seafront at Aberystwyth (where, incidentally, there’s a pub called the Starling Cloud, although that’s quite a way inland; best pub in Aber is the Glengower which is right on the esplanade). It was quite the sight! How, I wonder, are they able to do that?

2024 highlights

Looking back on the year, as you do at this time, several birding highlights stand out for me.

First, by some distance, was a trip to Wales in May, during which I went on a boat trip out of Tenby, going around Caldey Island. Just off Caldey is St Margaret’s Island, which is home to a large seabird colony. There were Cormorants, there were Guillemots, there were Razorbills, there were Kittiwakes — but best of all, there were Puffins. It wasn’t the first time I’d done that boat trip, but it was the first time I have ever seen Puffins, and that made the whole thing worthwhile. They had abandoned the island a few years ago thanks to a rat infestation (as they nest in burrows atop cliffs, Puffins are very vulnerable to this), but they have returned although they’re now using rock fissures which precludes this particular colony (only a handful of breeding pairs) from expanding. Puffins have been on my birding wish-list for a while, so getting to see them was incredibly gratifying. 

I’ve been to Suffolk a couple of times this year. While there in March, I went to Minsmere (one of the finest RSPB reserves in the country) and had a wonderful time. No Bitterns, alas, but in one of the hides a volunteer pointed out a rare sighting indeed — Lesser Scaup. Had I not had the benefit of his wisdom, doubtless I would have logged it was a funny-looking Tufted Duck! Only afterwards did it occur to me that I should have asked how he knew it was that and not a regular Scaup (which is still rare but at least it has its own page in the RSPB Handbook of British Birds (fifth edition), unlike the Lesser Scaup which is listed in tye ‘Rarities’ section at the back.

In September I was back in Suffolk, staying at Southwold. While there, I went for a few bike rides, exploring some of the local churches as well as birding. The highlight in terms of the latter was a Yellow Wagtail in the fields between Southwold (the town) and Southwold Harbour, and six Spoonbills on the Blyth Estuary (specifically, seen from the bird hide a short walk out of Blythburgh; said hide contained an abandoned Swallow’s nest, interestingly enough). 

Closer to home, the bird walks at Brent Reservoir with my local RSPB group yielded some good sightings. The reservoir itself was drained earlier this year, and as a result we saw Water Rail and Snipe from the hide, as well as a the head of a Tawney Owl poking out from a tree-hollow and a Peregrine perched atop a nearby block of flats. I would like to do these walls more often, if my diary allows!

In Barcelona in a sweltering July, I visited the amazing Sagrada Familia, an amazing building which, from a purely birding perspective, is home to Crag Martins which nest in the towers! Also in Barcelona were many Monk Parakeets, which (unlike the Ring-necked Parakeets we get here in London) are originally from South America. 

And then, in October, there was Canada, of which the birding highlight had to be the Hawk Watch in Toronto’s High Park.

An enjoyable birding year! I look forward to seeing what 2025 brings. 

November round-up

 A pretty good month!

Thoroughly enjoyed the walk along the East Lothian coast as previously mentioned. Also went down to Kent and saw various gulls, plus a male Kestrel hovering over the White Cliffs of Dover.

Then there was the Greater-spotted Woodpecker in Cambridge, seen just because I happened to be looking up. Always worth doing so!

And lots of Red Kites seen along the M40 as it goes through the Chilterns. Usually one or two at the very least, but dozens at this time of year. Wonderful birds with a great story behind them. 

Book-wise, I read Simon Barnes’s Birdwatching with Your Eyes Closed which I enjoyed. Birdsong has always been my (figurative) blind spot and I regretted not being able to download the accompanying podcast although to be fair, the book was published over a decade ago so maybe it’s no longer available! Made use of the birdsong clips already on my iPod instead. It’s a work in progress but I feel that my bird-listening abilities are improving. 

On the home patch, some great sightings in East Finchley. First Redwings of the winter, first Blackcap of the year, Long-tailed Tits for the first time since January and even a Nuthhatch in Cherry Tree Wood, the local park opposite the Tube station. 

On the garden feeder, plenty of Ring-necked Parakeets as per usual, plus the occasional Blue Tit and Goldfinch. 

Phone photography isn’t great (feeder pics aside), but I did get a nice shot of a Carrion Crow near the station.

Smart bird. Who knows what December will bring?

Scottish interlude

Last week I was in Edinburgh for work, and I had the opportunity to get out of that lovely city for a walk along the coast to the east with some colleagues. With its dunes and picturesque seascapes, the East Lothian coast is a truly beautiful part of Britain (even the golf courses look nice, and I say that as someone who agrees with Winston Churchill (or was it Mark Twain?) in that I consider that sport to be “a good walk spoilt”). There are some first-class birding locations on the East Lothian coast such as Aberlady (the country’s first-ever designated Local Nature Reserve) and the boat trips out to Bass Rock from North Berwick, which is home to the Scottish Seabird Centre. 

Both of those experiences are ones to look forward to another time, though. Last week, it was a lovely walk along the beach by Gullane. 

Weather-wise, it was a near-perfect day for it, with clear blue skies and not much wind. There were plenty of waders to be seen, principally Oystercatchers, those distinctive black-and-white ones with the long orange-red bulls. Looking at a group of them on an offshore rock with the binoculars, I could see that they were accompanied by some Turnstones and a lone Curlew. 

Along the path was the ruin of an old stone hut. What must this have been? Have any hikers made use of it as a shelter on windy days or perhaps nights? 

Later on, I saw more waders in the form of a dozen or so Knots and a couple of Bar-tailed Godwits. There were plenty of Cormorants flying low over the sea, and a couple of Shelducks seen from a distance. A couple of groups of geese flew overhead in V-formation but they were too quick for me to make an identification; regular Greylags, or something more?

Gull-wise, I saw those of the Herring and Black-headed varieties, while the beach was also popular with Carrion Crows. A little brown bird was too quick for me; Meadow Pipit, most likely. 

Back in Edinburgh, I had the chance — always taken if offered — to climb Calton Hill for wonderful views over the city and the Firth of Forth; assorted pigeons, gulls and crows were seen up there. Sure, Arthur’s Seat is better known — but there just wasn’t enough time. As with Aberlady and Bass Rock, one for another time when this part of the world, and its birding potential, can be explored further.