Showing posts with label Common Snipe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Common Snipe. Show all posts

Saturday, 16 September 2017

Horrid autumn- 16/9/17

6:25-8:55
As I was saying yesterday, where's them Swallows? None today, first time that's happened this autumn.
Viz mig: Teal, Sparrowhawk, Snipe 11 Meadow Pipit 20, Yellow Wagtail, Pied Wagtail, Song Thrush 2, Linnet 18

Point: Chiffchaff 7, Blackcap 3, Reed Bunting.

Snipe. Sussing their tactics out now. While there are a handful settled on the saltings, arrivals drop and then get caught out on the lower sections, having to fly off (invariably inland) as the tide covers. A bird or two might move south over the Point in the first hour. Of course, these might just be birds moving to day roosts, but the pattern is highly irregular. More probably arrivals, I'd like to think. Especially if you have a wisp of seven go over in line. I'm so easily pleased.






Sunday, 27 March 2016

Another urban legend debunked- the silence of the Jacks

The much rated Collins Bird Guide continues the Jack Snipe tradition; "flushes only when almost trodden on, flies up silently..." Well, you quickly learn to never say never in this birding game. A recent blog post by a Norfolk ringer mentioned hearing Jack Snipe when walking a site, which led to three being caught and ringed.

This was questioned on a Ringers' Forum, but several others confirmed they knew the call from their own muddy larks. I'd actually heard it just a few hours before reading the discussion, having just caught and ringed three Jack Snipe of my own (and four Common Snipe) that evening. One even made it as I released it.

And of course, the flight call could be heard all along on the xeno-canto website.  To my rusty old ear, it is lower when compared to Common Snipe. How often might a birder dismiss as just a Snipe, based on the texts? It might be we ringers hear them more because we're about in the dark, when a vocal alarm to fellow Jacks might be useful, but clearly the other blogger picked up during the day.

To many, the uber-secretive Jack Snipe is an elusive beast. Since moving back to North Kent I've found that during the winter months simply watching a saltings go under on a high spring tide means a possibility of both species having to retreat from their day roost. Others can walk the saltings to get a glimpse, but I'm quite content to sit for an hour and watch all the to-ings and fro-ings. The number of Snipe that might be hiding in one small site can be pretty impressive- first time I sussed this was when I counted nearly 50 out of Twinney saltings south of the wharf one February afternoon.

Still another week or two for the main departure, still time to keep an ear out.