1989 and all that

Twitter has recently been in full song over that Golden-winged Warbler 29 years ago. (Why so much at 29? How much will be posted on the 30th anniversary?) The largest crowds for a twitch in UK history. Ah, nostalgia. I think that back then, in my twitchy days, I went four or five times to enjoy it. And you know what, I have great difficulty recollecting it now. I close my eyes and I just can't 'see' it any more. I really can't.

The one visit to Larkfield I do remember vividly is the February trip that I cut short so I could race back to Rainham in time to carry out a Low Tide Count. I really can close my eyes and still see the Spotted Redshank I had that morning. Each to their own.

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Typing that sent me scuttling off to the shelves for the count write-up in the 1989 Kent Bird Report. The more that things change, the more they stay the same.

As well as the February count, a second was made:

"..in September 1989.. all counts took place on weekdays.. when disturbance was slight, and problems with birds moving from area to area minimal."

"It is hoped that the numbered sections here, or combinations of them, will become standard counting units.. for the benefits of those involved in conservation planning, where data may be required for small parts of the estuary under threat.."

Of course, the areas weren't promoted well enough to birders to ever become established. Still aren't. The individual sector results gained from official estuary-wide surveys aren't actively publicised; data is data after all. Thirty years ago an employee of a second charity co-ordinated local WeBS results. One counter asked them to be put in touch with the counter next door so they could chat and see how things compared. Was told, in no uncertain terms, that wouldn't be happening because of data protection, and in fact much of the data gathered actually belonged to that second charity because they cordinated it. The counter was never told who was counting next door. Needless to say, they lost that particular counter.

Back then, as in recent years, co-ordinated counts were not the norm. At least the weekend vs. weekday differences in high tide roosting behaviours had been identified and highlighted.

Back in 1989 a second need had also been identified, to try to get some decent autumn counts as well as 'winter' (October to February). To look through the monthly totals in county Bird Reports up to my return in 2013, it would seem half-decent autumn species totals on the Medway were minimal. Wrong.

Yes I bang on. Often the reply I get is 'oh you have all the answers'. I really don't. I'm just well-read. Others found and published the answers at a county level nearly three decades ago.

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Of course, there's an elephant in my 1989 memory storage room, which needs highlighting for next, and the next, and the next generation birders to learn from. Twitter might have been filled with that Golden-winged Warbler this past week, birders on the sea wall have been talking to me about that Common Yellowthroat.

"The first county record of this American landbird involved a first winter male present at Murston from January 6th to April 23rd.."

To say this bird came to polarise locals is an understatement. The fallout between 'camps' led to the eventual demise of the informal 'North Kent Birders' group. No more social meet-ups down the Hastings Arms, no more attempts by the NKB to build local coverage, through efforts such at co-ordinated searches along eastern Sheppey. 30-ish birders out, ensuring full coastline coverage, looking for autumn migrants- great stuff, never since repeated. And some birders slowly switching off, withdrawing from the 'scene'. With a turn-over/reduction of WeBS counters in the years that followed haunting this estuary for years.

That (plus subsequent downers here in the following years involving birds I'd never even seen or invited to) helped me reach a decision more than a dozen or so years ago; I would never 'see' a county scarce or rare, again.

By that I meant not only I wouldn't see other's finds, but also I would never bother 'self-finding' anything again. Sniff of a rare? Turn around and walk away. They really are just not worth it. The inflated values put on them devalue other species, ones that need greater worths recognised.

And before you ask, nope, I never saw the Yellowthroat. I suspect if I had done, it might well now be just like that Golden-winged; wiped clean from my memory banks as 'just a rare'. So many of the birds I twitched back then are gone from the memory bank.

And nope, I didn't even hear about it for ages. Was told about it in a phone conversation with one of the observers, several months after it had left. We had been talking about something completely different. At the end, they raised the subject, they felt I should know, but they were clearly still worried about reactions they were getting. So they were amazed that someone could take it well as I then did during that conversation; I just congratulated them, and stressed I had no problem over it; I could see from their perspective they had acted well within the Birdwatchers' Code of Conduct. It was just a bird.

Fast forward 29 years. One seawall conversation this past week went on about how the Yellowthroat 'killed' North Kent Birding. I can agree with that, partly. (It wasn't really the Yellowthroat's fault.)

The other comment I got was the tired old 'and I really should have been allowed to see that bird' rant. I explained that since that Yellowthroat the Hubble telescope had been launched and helped confirm the universe doesn't revolve around their life/county list (with a real life smiley face of course).

Which is why you shouldn't ever read this blog, or my tweets, hoping for rarity/scarcity news. There won't be any. I'm not doing it to wind you up, dear reader, I'm doing it to protect my own sanity. Because I know how decades-old suppressed birds just keep haters hating, on both aisles of the Broad Church of Birding.

Postscript:
Six months later, and the County newsletter is seemingly warming things up for the 30th anniversary. Oh I do love it when the author has already supplied the answer to their inferred question. (And even I wouldn't ever claim there was a 'rampage' on the streets!)

Raising the bar for Bar-taileds

Following on from the first Bar-tailed Godwit post, had a nice hour discussing Bar-tails with the Reverend. Started by confirming he'd only ever ringed a handful at Oakham over the decades. When present around the island, they would number only fours, fives, maybe up to as many as a dozen on a red-letter day, but never more than that.

What was interesting was a nice anecdote confirming their dislike of the softer, siltier mud so often found around the inner basin. When present, the birds would usually only frequent the northern shore of Oakham, where the flats were much harder. Only after really strong south-westerlies, might they appear on the south side, and only for a few weeks. The tidal action would havescoured the soft silt from the harder base below, much preferred by their prey.

On the matter of prey, The Reverend let slip the highest concentration of lugworm in the estuary was actually inside Oakham. Because he had built a sluice to allow control of water levels within the island, for much of the year, especially during the breeding season, the mud inside Oakham was under water. The lugworms, washed in as youngsters, loved such conditions. Obviously things will have changed since the Station closed, but back in the day the pool was full of lug.

Clearly I need to get the kettle on, get more biscuits in and pick the Reverend's brains some more.

Setting the bar for Bar-taileds

Gause's Law or the Competitive Exclusion Principle:  where two species compete for the same limiting resources, they cannot coexist at constant population values. When one species has even the smallest advantage over the other, they will dominate in the long term.

Odd place to start, but for the Medway, worth understanding the differences between Bar-tailed and Black-tailed Godwit.

Bills. In general, Bar-tailed is shorter, fractionally, with overlap between nominate race and islandica. But Bar-tailed also has slight upcurve, Black-tailed is straighter. Why? Well, we'll tie the legs in as well at this point, Bar-tailed also have shorter legs. So they sit closer to the ground, feed with a shorter bill with a slight sweep. They are designed to feed, ever so slightly, differently. Black-tails feed in deeper water. The creeks of an estuary are perfect. They are happy to stand up to their bellies and probe along the water edge on the more sharply-shelving edges. Bar-tails are happiest on the more open, shallower-shelving flats of open bays and shores. 'BWP' notes studies showing they seek out active lugworm casts. On the flats around the Swale, Bristleworms are taken in high numbers; these are not seen in the Medway in any number. Other studies confirm lugworm, even where not main prey, is main energy content.

Some interesting work has been done on their feeding ecology. Flock-feeding is successful- spread along shore, more shorter-billed males to the shore, more females in the water. Lone birds are poor feeders in comparison.

All this helps explain why on the Medway most Bar-taileds are seen on the eastern basin, especially between Stangate and Queenborough Spits plus, as the winter progresses, Bedlams (though this does not necessarily an influx, merely a change in area usage.

The central flats often turn up a handful of birds, as does the western basin. Hardly ever in large enough a number to suggest a regular flock. Part of the reasoning behind this will be the mudflat profiles, part may well be down to preferred prey species. Whilst needs must, and most waders will be catholic in tastes, when preferred food is available, they will take it. Lugworm is erratic and in small numbers up to Gillingham. Next most taken in studies, a type of bristleworm, is one that, for whatever reason, favours only the deep water channel- so, found in profusion near Stangate/ Queenborough. (The screengrab is from the excellent National Biodiversity Network website.)

Any double-figure count in the eastern basin is noteworthy. Holloway, summarising records for Gillingham to 1984: "a few birds spend the winter on the mud-flats each year and small parties of birds in full summer plumage are occasionally seen in late spring.." Randomly grabbing one of the Country Park reports, 1993: "two records only. Motney Hill on 17th September, two birds and a single bird at Riverside 18th November.." Small parties or lone birds. Based on feeding rates, they're probably not in optimum habitats up-estuary.

Overall, in all probability the status of the Bar-tailed Godwit on the Medway estuary has changed little since the 1990s, in line with English trends (as per the WeBS screengrab).

In recent winters three-figure counts in the western basin have not been hard to come by, though usually just below nationally important numbers (380 plus).As most data comes from the WeBS winter months, the oversummering birds are not always recorded (usually found between Ham Ooze and Queenborough) and the short-staying passage flocks get overlooked; these are usually small, not making three figures, but great to see.

One caveat- as with most species on the estuary; distance will play tricks on you. In flight, in some lights, the Black-tails will not give their white flashes up easily. If you suspect Bar-wits in number away from the regular areas, work 'em hard.

Lord of the Ringos

One Ringo to rule them all,
(one Ringo to fight him),
one roost to make all safe,
 and over high tide bind them.

(J.R.R. Thornton, 'Birds of the Mordor Estuary')

- - - - -

Sometimes things just come together. Watch a behaviour, make a considered guess, then find the reference in 'Birds of The Western Palearctic', or similar. Had puzzled over this the past couple of winters, watched it play out the past week.

The Ringed Plovers are on the move. Not migrating, just displacement within the estuary. Many hold a feeding territory, and those close to the footpaths can be almost guaranteed. Right up until the time the Dunlin hordes begin to increase their feeding periods on the higher flats.

Ringos, just like many of the Plovers, feed mainly by sight, employing a watch-dash-feed technique. They can put up with some inter-species close competition, but as numbers grow, feeding disturbance grows as their prey retreats from increased vibrations from all those feet and bills.

This past week Ringo numbers around Rainham Docks East and Sharps Green Bay have dropped as Dunlin numbers have gone up. At the same time numbers have increased short distances away, at Copperhouse, Bloors and Otterham. This morning three Ringos disputed ownership of the creek right in front of the north-west corner of Bloors. After an hour or so's chasing, two held the banks, one had retreated out towards the wreck of PAS1511.

One quick read of 'Birds of the Western Palearctic' later, and things fall into place. Studies at Lindisfarne had shown this to be a routine behaviour.

WeBS in past few years has had a Medway peak in February. This could only be true if there was a regular mid-winter influx. Studying the excellent graphs available on the WeBS link (poor screengrab below), it is apparent this has not been the case at local or national level. My own records reflect a species most numerous during the passage periods with steady winter numbers, albeit slightly higher in the second half of a winter.

Now why would that be? They like sandier flats, and several of these extend out to the centre of the estuary. In better feeding weather, it could be birds can obtain enough food further out. It might be there is a slight adjustment by birds feeding on the mid-estuary flats moving shoreward. As they have to 'make do' in the face of high calidrid numbers, they might well have to take up more sub-optimal areas, and switch to closer roosts? They are certainly easier to find now during the low tide cycle, with a lot more picked up on call as they dispute new territories.

The international threshold stands at 730; the Medway numbers are nowhere near that. But with in excess of 225 present along the southern shore, from personal knowledge the actual estuary winter population routinely nears, perhaps breaks, the GB threshold of 340.

Why any counts of Ringed Plover for the various individual sites around the estuary can be really useful.

Before leaving, worth looking at Low tide counts (available from the same excellent link):

36 is an extremely low result, and in no way representative of the true numbers on the estuary that winter; even when uncounted sectors (grey) are considered, many more birds were found during the intertidal periods.

Previous results can also be seen via the webpage:
   2005/06-  30     /  17   /  0.05
   2004/05-  332  /  122  /  0.08
   1996/97-  442  /  315  /  0.05

If present counts are correct, that drop in 05/06, and the most recent partial count do not represent the population here.

For further info on the southern Medway's roosting Ringed Plovers, try my previous blogposts here (numbers) and here (disturbance).

Winter surge

A whole metre on top? At least the spring tide was a low one- 5.7 metres. And the strong winds had died down. Topping out wouldn't be too choppy, birds should behave.

Copperhouse an hour before high tide

But they didn't. Instead of ending up due north, they went west to Hoo Island. More specifically, Hoo saltings, between the island and Folly Point; Dunlin and Knot could be seen putting the air brakes on and dropping down behind Hoo Fort. The only theory I have for this is the strength of the winds during the past 24 hours, peaking at a 63 m.p.h. westerly in the wee small hours. Hoo saltings are sheltered from westerlies behind the raised land of Hoo island. Unfortunately it can only really be viewed from the north shore, so I have to presume most were on the saltings rather than the island itself. As the tides continue to rise over the years, Hoo might become the only safe roost, but for now the island is largely ignored.

Wader flightlines in the hour before high tide

The wildfowl were taking a different approach. Rather than risk time on land (which would mainly be on Ham Green) they were widely scattered over the Rainham creek waters. Clearly birds from Copperhouse and Gillingham marshes (with, perhaps, some of the Nor/Friars numbers) had swollen numbers to their highest count for Rainham this winter.

Finally, the Rock Pipit rule worked perfectly- 'peak counts on the shore on a surge'. Many of the island birds have to make for the mainland under such conditions, with double figures on Horrid. Highest counts of Reed Bunting for a while as well.

The Sharps Green Bay wrecks were not only busy, but magnetic; if any of the
birds put up, they soon returned. When the choice of safe roosts is limited, you
 don't move on.

Horrid memories of Common sights.

Trevor Hatton popped by with some old photos he thought I might appreciate. Including one of  me on Horrid Hill some thirty-odd years ago.

Waiting for the boat. Trevor and I were waiting for one of the great characters of the estuary, Chad, to bring his little boat alongside the point for a day on the water. Scrambling out over the rocks to board by an icy plank. Hours freezing on an extremely cold day on the water, so cold that Trevor and I were pushing ice out of the way with a couple of gaffs as we tried to enter Sharps Green Bay.

Trevor had forgotten the Great Skua we'd had right alongside, but remembered the same great highlight as we entered Half Acre at dusk, in a cold mist. Hundreds upon hundreds of Common Gulls roosting on the still water, staring us out, then slowly parting as we chugged our way through. Like a watery version of Hitchcock's 'The Birds'. It was years before I ever saw numbers like that again on the estuary. While in East Sussex I became used to thousands of Common Gulls passing over the cottage heading south for Rye Bay at dusk, but big numbers here only seem to happen occasionally; what conditions cause it, not sure, but always making for a great memory.

All making for a good excuse for us to go revisit Berengrave memories in the next few weeks. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.

Posting on the fly #3: the results are in..

The local paper has just published the fly-tipping cost totals for 2016/17 for whole of Kent:

Say what you want about Medway and Swale Councils, they are trying. 6,880 incidents in a year. £376,620 of their budgets is being spent on cleaning up after those lovely people (£1.3 million for the county as a whole.).

Funton; one village missed out on receiving
local newsletter 'The Net' in Dec' '16

Hoo island Herons

Another of my speck shots, just under the kilometre from Finsborough to Hoo island where, especially at this time of year, Grey Herons assemble. Several spread along the revetments as far as Folly Point, but the gathering at the old pier, a dozen in all today, always intrigues me.

Voisin's family monograph, 'The Herons of Europe', points to there being little known on courtship behaviour away from colonies- essentially, even though the species has recognised 'gathering grounds', sexual behaviour (courtship displays) do not take place on them. However, the book describes the little known dance display (perhaps little known because it is all rather unimpressive and over in a flash, a bit of one foot in, one foot out, shake it about, flap wings once and over). I've been watching, but not seeing. Makes you then wonder whether, like the Berengrave non-breeders' spring roost, these might be younger birds, not about to pair. Whatever the answer, now is the time of year for peak counts along the southern Medway. Counting gatherings here, and elsewhere, plus the routine feeding flights to inland ponds, soon provides a thirty-plus figure, a little higher than the WeBS current five-year average for the whole estuary of 21.

The other puzzling thing is still how infrequent flights between the north and south shores are. Perhaps because individual, perhaps because often pre-dawn? Certainly true flocks most often encountered in the autumn. Additionally mapping year round flightlines, the preference for avoiding the largest stretches of open water remains:

The question is how much of a role does the south Medway have as a core area for birds from the large Northward Hill heronry (circled, just north of the estuary). Data collected to date may not reflect how much local populations rely on the estuary at this time of year. The latest BTO Birdtrends results state the causes of the recent decline in breeding populations to be as yet unknown. And more notes from the head of the estuary, around St Mary's would be something to consider in the future in relation to routine crossings- I have a hunch that area could yet prove as busy as just east of Hoo Island.

And of course, as discussed recently, there could also be a few continentals hanging on- and definitely one Scandi bird has been found on the estuary before.

So many questions..

A dig at the scales of disturbance

A similar, recurring discussion with bait diggers centres on the way birds really take no notice of them once they start digging. How they happily feed alongside.

For quite a while now I've accepted that as fact- diggers in situ can often cause less flighting than a wandering birder. But there is a scale. I call it Father Dougal's scale:

Those birds near the diggers are small. The larger ones are far away.

Large birds depart before small, flighting at a greater disturbance distance. They often go while the digger is walking along the shoreline. The theory is that a bird with a smaller body weight uses less reserves on any flight escape- it can afford to risk staying nearer to a threat on a good feeding area. Small birds respond to threats fractionally quicker, not needing three or four large strides to get airborne, and smaller birds are less of an easy target for the threat joining them on the mud.

So, bait diggers are being genuine when they recount a tale of that time a Turnstone was coming right up to their fork. It's still scores on the disturbance scale. I'm hoping to one day meet the digger who can tell me of a Godwit taking lugworm from their bucket.

Encountering DD32670

Redshank: DD32670.
Ringed 30th August 2008, 04:20.
Easington, East Yorkshire (Spurn Bird Observatory)
Age: 4 (adult)
Wing: 159.0 mm. Weight: 155.0 g.

Nearly nine years later, DD32670 was retrapped on the south Medway.
26th July 2017, 02:00.
Wing: 160.5 mm. Weight: 126.0 g
3,252 days later, 255 km south.

No primary feather moult. U.K. breeders usually move away from their breeding grounds in late June/July to head for a safe moulting site. As the weight was down by some 20%, perhaps the bird had only just made a flight south? U.K. Redshanks north of Yorkshire tend not to move as far south as the south-east, birds from Yorkshire down to the Wash do.

Of course, all total speculation- it could just be it came from further north, from the Icelandic population, hard to say. It might have been staging in Yorkshire in 2008. The Medway weight of 126 grams is a very low one for a Redshank. Perhaps it had just arrived from Iceland? Birds often use the same staging sites year after year, perhaps at some point this bird decided Kent was better than Yorkshire? (U.K. adult Redshanks usually only travel around 109 km on average).

Other measurements help point towards races, the bill (to feather, to skull, head plus bill). Tarsus, toe and tarsus combined, all helpful but all with some/much overlap. The bird certainly might have been Icelandic. They arrive in the U.K. from late June, the majority in August. So it really could be just in..

So much fun to speculate. The more we find out from ringing, the more there is to know.

Harried by the tide

A 6.3 spring, with a 0.3 surge topping out six minutes before sunset? That'll do.

Twisted arms, got a lift out to Shoregate from a chum. Essentially looking for a negative result on the islands Marsh Harrier roost. Score. None moving over the water either, just normal numbers over Chetney, but a handful showing interest in Barksore.

The island roost is always used on neap tides, in preference to those two sites ashore, both of which are shot. But on springs, the Harriers have to stay landward. Morning flight behaviour also changes. Birds moving out over Ham Green and then north-west via Motney and Nor then tend to stick around the western basin. The small roosts in the eastern basin remain in the same small numbers. (Interestingly, these are often young birds.)

The islands at low tide

The same, spring tide

This might seem odd behaviour, when birders mainly only talk about the main roosts in permanant use on the marshes, but birds do chop and change- radio-tagging elsewhere has shown they might well use up eight different roosts in a winter.

The next thing is that these could be dismissed in the past as pre-roosts. Actual roosts are usually not entered until sunset or just after; for the main site, whilst birds will have been in that vicinity for some time, most arrive at the alloted hour, and come from borth east and west. The two minor roosts are certainly used as such, having had the experience of inadvertently stumbling upon a flattened reed platform complete with Harrier one pre-dawn morning (it was in a little-used net ride of mine).

The map shows neap roosts (yellow) and spring roosts (orange), with usual flightlines. The roosts haven't quite been positioned correctly, but the locals know where they are. The Medway might not be up to eastern Sheppey spectacle standards, but a busy evening with a couple of dozen birds up in the sky will always do. Or even one or two at a smaller roost, really not fussy.

Two rings from middle estuary- # EX31529 and # EX31535

I trained as a ringer under my good friend Bill Jones, often out on Oakham Island. Although I now limit myself to the southern shore, and Oakham is frustratingly mid-estuary, just north of the main channel, I hope publishing an occasional map or two from some of his ringing recoveries over the years here on this blog will be of interest.

Black-tailed Godwits
Both ringed: 23rd November 2011

EX31529
Found: 29th November 2017, Tancarville, Seine-Maritime, France.
Leg and ring only, found near Peregrine nesting site.
Found 1854 days after ringing, 117 kilometres from Oakham.

EX31535
Found: 20th December 2016, Chichester Cathedral, West Sussex.
Freshly dead (within one week), hunted.
Found 2198 days after ringing, 217 kilometres from Oakham.

Bearing in mind their longevity, with wader ringing there are good odds for future encounters. Hearing about two birds caught on the same tide is always interesting.

Both 'hunted', one 'naturally'. Both equally dead and all pressures on species/populations have to be considered when looking at conservation. Large-scale ringing (as against colour-ringing, where the low volume of colour combinations/readable digits limit numbers) still has a part to play in supporting conservation studies. Take #'29. The EU, through Natura 2000, Directive 79/409/EEC on the conservation of wild birds,routinely draw up management plans for threatened species. One such plan showed how ringing recoveries had helped bring changes to the length of the hunting season, reducing pressure on the species at a time when birds are beginning to move back north from Iberia to staging grounds here in the UK:

Opine all you want on the EU, it has been doing *something* about their conservation, and it will continue to do so. Examples such as this are why our own future Government(s) will need to keep the laws as strong as Natura 2000 at the very least. Politicians are in a 'damned if you do, damned if you don't', because whatever they do will never be right for all. But where data is available to evidence, then people can come to understand, appreciate, adjust and continue to monitor.

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As an aside for Kentish readers, here's a link to a 2012 article on how our neighbour France's breeding population has been doing. For info on the fortunes of 'our' wintering/ passage birds, then the regular blog updates on the excellent Wader Tales are the must-reads.

Just published: 'A guide to not birding the North Kent marshes'

Mid-winter, and the birds can be struggling in even the best weather.

A high tide middle of the day means little time when the mudflats are uncovered in daylight; even though waders can feed at night, their sight is impaired (so the likes of Plovers change from visual hunting to less successful blind probing) and blind probers are more spread, often away from optimal edge feeding (mass escape flights a lot harder, better to be in smaller groups).

That's not today. BBC weather has low tide 10:30, Birds are okay. Aren't they?

Some adjustments are needed. First, to the excellent NTSLF site for the surge forecast:

Looking at the 7th, a bit of a surge during the morning, but that peters out by the time the tide comes in. Shouldn't be a problem? A need to visualise that information on the tide details:

Suddenly, not as much feeding available. Firstly, the low tide level not quite as low- mid-estuary, some of the feeding areas reached by the waders that follow a tide out will not be uncovered. Birds that like to stay by a tideline edge do so because their prey much less active during uncovered periods, especially as the water drains out of the mud. They might even burrow deeper. So birds lose out on this.

Secondly, the lower flats out mid-estuary, those that cover by about the 2.5 metre mark, aren't available for as long as could be; the birds will be moving back in and packing the shoreline flats earlier. Overcrowding isn't good. Example, some prey can 'feel' movement above/around them (why Plovers watch from a distance, then dash in) and a few hundred clockwork calidrids dashing about early cause them to go deeper. Feeding conditions are worsened (and, remember, the menu is getting barer now as prey is depleted, plus the birds need more food to get through the poor weather).

Next, it's a Sunday. The great British public are out in numbers. More chances of bird scaring. The waders can't count on those later covering flats being available right up to covering.

Plus, the weather. A quick check of the inshore waters c/o the Beeb, because those winds on your onshore forecast are always down on the estuary actual.

Aww, that's not good. Strong winds really cause feeding problems for some species. A large number of the Redshank will hunker down in the cord grass rather than wobble about, losing body heat. And prey can sense it, can sense the mud drying quicker, down they go earlier.

Still at least it's not raining. Raindrops coming down on mud really mess it up for visual feeders.

So, I'm still typing this, in my jimmy-jams, hot cup of tea close-by. Because not worth borthering the birds much at the moment. I want them to feed. There are no sanctuaries on the estuary, people will be out causing disturbance from the open sections of the sea wall (many inadvertently I hasten to add), people will be out along closed sections carrying out whatever they have to. Me going to either, standing, staring, will only add to it and I can do that under better conditions on a less crowded weekday. Let 'em feed.

Of course, once the tide is in, still problems. High spring tides such as we've been having can cause the birds to have to use sub-optimal roosts. Seen tweets and postings this week where locals have been saying 'birds trying to roost on seawall, but disturbed by x'. More energy wasted. I try to pick my spots carefully on such days. Today is a moderate spring, without a surge over high tide though? Look at that wind speed. The state of the estuary waters, by my own terminology, will be 'flippin choppy'and there'll be a lot of waves breaking on the islands- many relatively safe roost sites won't be.

All in all, a very uncomfortable day for the waders (and the wildfowl) out there. So I'd be tailoring my behaviour accordingly to give them a little peace (birders are one of the main causes of wader disturbance, after all). Nope, my post-op recovery needs are a nice excuse to stay off the wall anyway. There's always tomorrow.

The state of the estuary

Sea state- the condition of the surface of the water. Technically, there's all sorts of physics going on in the 'proper' definition (wiki is yer man) but the main thing to know is they've made a simple version easy enough for a quick estimation for any ship's log. Or any birders' notebook.

You'll hear it daily in the shipping forecast or in the more accurate for landlubbers with 'scopes inshore waters forecast, or the more accurate for birders with 'bins or stuck in an estuary coastal waters forecast.

Rough example (pun intended) If 'coastal' is 'moderate', then inshore might be 'moderate to rough' and shipping almost certainly 'rough to very rough'.

Swell- a tad difficult to grasp. It's not really meant for the waves on an estuary. They're formed by local wind conditions. Technically, swell is surface gravity waves made by large-scale weather systems;a movement of large bodies of water. Think of those regular waves coming in on a beach on a calm day. They might be small, but they still might form and ride for a hundred metres or more. That's swell. Here on the estuary most waves dissipate after three or four metres. But the wind picks that wave up a half metre higher? That's sea state.

Each of those two measurements can be estimated, via the Douglas sea scale.

For a birder the sea state on the estuary is based on guesstimating wave heights, and you need to get your eye in. On the seawall shoreline of the estuary, do you ever see a wave breaking of around a metre? Not really, sometimes mid-estuary, maybe. And that would only be 'slight'. Most of the time less than half that ('smooth') or less.

Swell- well those waves don't often roll past you for more than a hundred metres, they're short wavelength, and a 'low wave' is anything under two metres in length, so the swell in the Medway is never really scores much more than a 'one' on the scale- waves low and short. The scale goes to nine.

So, even when I think it's nasty out on the estuary, it really isn't. My scores most frequently used (usually calculated in Great Crested Grebe neck lengths) are:

   0 - flat - glassy calm
   1 - to 10 cm high - rippled calm
   2 - 10 to 50 cm high - smooth
   3 - 50 cm to 125 cm - slight and
   4 - 125 cm to 250 cm - moderate.

with swell being just either

   0 - no swell
   1 - short/average.

The scales are worth a look at. A really easy way of noting your seawatching conditions.Top scores possible? 'Phenomenal and confused' Actually, in this day and age, that should be called Top Trumps. Wow wouldn't that be something to see folks? A great wall of water, greatest wall of water you could see.

Now, the point is this. If we can work all this out, you can bet your bottom dollar birds are working this out, not on the same scales, not consciously, but they do, easily, and they respond to it. Why no self-respecting Kittiwake is ever going to stay in the Medway for long.

Hopefully all of use for one or two readers for their own notebooks, hopefully a few might have a go at reading conditions; it all helps in understanding why we only see certain species, in certain areas, in certain conditions.

The London Borough of Medway

It comes a little closer, every year.

I would have choked on my cornflakes years ago reading Chatham being pushed as a great site to park your yacht and spend your millions, but the broadsheets have been softening me for ages:

Seriously though? Ever seen a chocolate box lid with a picture of Chatham cottages on? I was born and bred in Luton, Chatham, Kent. We'd have had the rose trellises away in no time..

 Development. Onwards and upwards. Some sussed years ago knocking ten minutes off the train time to London could see a gentrification, or if not quite Russian billionaire standards, the London masses moving out to Kent.

I've argued it since the Unitary Authority was established in 1998. Here we are, the twentieth anniversary of us leaving Kent. Sure, a bit of a Knight's move, jumping over Dartford and Gravesham to create a pseudo-London Borough with a buffer between, but that area will get the treatment soon. London right down to Sittingbourne.

Cking to hope. Medway have at least commissioned work on the potential disturbance to birds from development. Will they hold to this? Watch this (open) space.

Thou shalt have a Kitty when the boat comes in

The Lady Clara is an odd 'un. As with most regular vessels on the Medway, I've checked her out on the excellent Marine Traffic website . Even though she's only just over ten years old, she's had several name changes. If you look closely you can see the raised metal of the original name under 'Lady Clara'- she started as 'Okko Tom Brook', then became 'Lady NTER', then 'Lady Cheetah', then just 'Lady'. All those strange name changes, BOU would be proud.

I was pleased to see Clara. I'd blagged a ride to Queenborough and got a three hour pass to rest up and take in the estuary airs on a bench by the Lappel. And Clara had just popped over from Rotterdam heading for Ridham Dock down the Swale. She'd entered the Medway via the deep water channel and had just what I wanted in tow; Kittiwakes, four of them. Not the easiest bird to pick up on the estuary, but they are partial to a ship's churnings, and today's quartet actually went a few hundred metres into the Swale before thinking they really ought to turn back for the coast. If they'd latched onto a Medway Towns bound boat, then they might have hung on as far up as Pinup Reach. The only ship to pass that way, the dredger Arco Avon, had had the expected 50-plus Herrings and a mix of the other common gull species, but no Kitts; they're never guaranteed, but check, and you shall find.

Otherwise the interest was the lateness of the Thames-feeding Curlews in to roost. The texts tell you they are often one of the first to assemble, one of the last to leave, but they were last in today; just over 130 flew in to join the Shepherd's Creek roost. Perhaps the poor feeding conditions over the past few days had caused them to make the most of the flats? Oystercatchers were fairly quiet, just under 400 in, but more than 1,600 Dunlins, fast and low, were entertaining enough.  Over the water, the northshore Brent Geese at Grain were joined by over 400 birds from beyond Sheerness, so, unable to tell if down the deep water channel or in from north Sheppey; no matter, always enjoy a decent skein.

Left before the top of the tide; with another surge due, didn't want to get my op wound wet- and looking at the promenade, it had certainly been wet yesterday. The half-dozen Rock Pipits were enjoying the mess.

------

Finally, it seems Jan 5th is my traditional date for a first visit to Queenborough:

Ask Eric

"When the seagulls follow the trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.." Dear old stressed Eric. 1995, and Cantona had kung-fu kicked a supporter in the stands. Not many recall the footballer got a two week prison sentence, but his appeal got that reduced to community service. The quote came just after all the sentencing to-ing and fro-ing- the press were following him around, looking for scraps.

If I'd been in the audience, I'd have asked Eric about cargo ships instead of trawlers. And ferries. And container ships. And..

Them seagulls (as Eric calls 'em) follow all of 'em. Are they really all hoping for scraps? Well, some at the RSPB think so:

But I'm not so sure. Several years back there was an interesting thread on this on Essex birders, and the Thames seagullers chucked some tasty ideas into the froth.

Feeding? Well, the feeding rates are extremely low. Little is thrown overboard, Relatively little churned up in the wake.

Migration? See that following paragraph in the quote above; over-simplified, small scale adjustments don't rely on those large-scale aids.

Competition? Some seagulls drop back and follow the next boat as well. And the next. Somehow utilising for display.

Play? Nothing better to do? Well, most seagulls would normally just loaf and save energy. And you don't really see seagulls play- normally too busy squabbling. Pair-forming perhaps?

Seagulls have to work hard to find food, happy to be opportunist feeders, and aren't really pelagic. They're not sea-going gulls. More inshore water gulls.

So, when a flippin big moveable cliff motors through your large feeding territory, creating easy lift to gain a bit of height to look further for seagulls feeding elsewhere, extra lift to allow some lazy flight, a hitched ride for several miles in the general migratory direction, the odd bit of propeller-prepared chum for a snack, why wouldn't some of the population an opportunist species take advantage?

- Height- watch birds ride the airwaves above the boat, scanning.
- Lazy flight- watch birds ride the bows.
- Migration- at the right time of the year, watch those Kittiwakes follow 'inland' then continue overland when the rivers narrow.
- Food- watch a few dip-feeding at the stern.
- Pairing- watch a group of Mediterranean Gulls in the spring, they are seemingly playing 'King of the Castle', continually trying to out-climb each other.

Kittiwakes. Read the short comments in the guide books. 'Winter far out to sea'. So, a Kitt coming into the Medway must be up to something. Watching for feeding? Not often. Riding the airwaves? Hardly any flapping going on. Deciding they've strayed a bit too far from home? Yup, they soon desert that cargo ship when it enters the narrow channel of the Swale. These birds are more often found in poorer weather than good, but calmer days just after blows are good days to watch out for them. A few tired individuals, having a bit of a laze? Kitts after ships? They're getting tired out over the deeper water. Money is on a few more birds inshore around the Kent coast over the next few days.

The more you find out, the more there is to know.

Wound, up

Dropped off at Copperhouse Lane, a 189 metres to the seawall, with a promise of no more than half-an-hour. At the stage where nowhere near fit post-op, but now allowed to get out for some short spells of walking.

What could possibly go wrong?

As I counted the Shelduck, I could hear a barking dog, then an approaching dog owner shouting at said dog. Owner then sounded to have dog back at their side. Next thing, the hound is jumping up at me and plants forelegs squarely into my scar.

I hit the deck like a sack of spuds.

The owner comes owner, puzzled why I'm down. I explain. They realise the impact wasn't what was wanted-

- "Yes, he is big, he does weigh thirty kilos."
- "He's only a puppy, he's only ten months old and thinks everyone wants to play."
- "He hasn't seen a tripod before, that's why he barked."

I hold it together enough not to scream, shout, yell. Instead I say quietly, slowly "If you are unable to control your dog, this shows why it should be on a lead. You have no idea of the circumstances of the people you are pass by."

The owner remains uber-apologetic, offering all sorts of help. I refuse, just asking to be left to recover in my own time. I sit on the wall, take some pain-killers, and wait for the pain to ease. Typing this ten hours later,nicely swollen, still hasn't stopped throbbing.

I really like dogs. Some dog owners, on the other hand..

Tell-tale muddy pawprints. Snoopy woz 'ere.

Forget the fifteen minute rule

One of those days where the wind whips the scope over. But one of those days where the birds are having it much worse than you. Forget all the feeding drivel from yesterday's post, today was just about holing up. The surge arrived just after high tide, so the 6.3 only became about a 6.5, but wave height was enough to cut off Horrid Hill, and drench all the roosts; the waders ran for cover, and the diving birds took to the sheltered bays. For sure, the wave action wasn't huge; it never is, but was enough to disrupt normal behaviour patterns. As soon as the waters were dropping, they started heading for favoured sheltered spots mid-river.

So, instead of loafing, and instead of feeding, they were actually flying; just like a real flippin' seawatch. Shame my chauffeur was only allowing me an hour out, but plenty of time to enjoy the Mergansers and the Goldeneye.

Again, the same game as yesterday. A second birder present, I put him on the two drake Goldeneyes that had just flown in. "Out in the channel separating Nor from Friars'. If you look beyong, they're effectively under the end of the Stoke Crossing bridge."

"I can see them. Too far for me."

Again, we had a nice chat on many things, especially numbers back a few decades. But that too far for me stuck. I found myself apologising for seeing them when I chatted with one of the Rangers. "Goldeneye, that's nice."

"Yeah, but too far for most to enjoy, sorry 'bout 'dat." Flip! Apologising for seeing things. Whatever next?

----

Last five mins of my recuperative visit saw me scanning Rainham Saltings as they started to reappear. That's where the Great Crested Grebes had come in to ride out the gale. They never get that close in normal circumstances. Books say they hate wind/high waves, and often move when conditions set in. Hopefully tomorrow mornings lull will give them a chance to feed up. Good excuse to count. Again.

The fifteen minute rule

Joined by a birder for a very short stay at the end of Horrid. You know the sort. Say they're a 'regular'. Come here two or three times each winter. They were in the mood to tell me all what was out there. Made my mood a mite mischievous, especially when he hinted at the estuary always being a bit, well, "dull".

"Not much to see here though. Twenty-three Greasies. That's about par for the course for me here."

"Forty-seven." I replied

Pause. Counting noises. "Well I can manage twenty-four. Just"

I smiled. "You counted that stretch in under three minutes. I usually take fifteen, because the distance between the two points is fifteen fields of view in my 'scope, you really need a minute for each.Also lets you get your eye in for any distant birds"

Stunned silence. So, I fill it.

There's more chance of the bird being under than on the surface at the mo'. They're feeding on shoals moving up with the tide. Now the average Great Crested Grebe dive length is under for thirty seconds or less; but they might stay on the surface for much less than that.  So, watching each field of view for a minute means you should get them on the surface before you pan left and repeat (though you will still miss the odd one that swims submerged between fields).

"Seems like hard work to me."

"It is. The bad news is if you're checking for Great Northern Divers, they can routinely be under for up to a minute as a rule. Red-breasted Mergansers? Bit of a bummer, up to thirty seconds the norm, but they can chase prey for up to about the two minute mark. And they can move between fields a lot. Only found a couple out there so far, and only seen a couple of times. Goldeneyes are easier though, they're usually only about twenty seconds a dive."

"Haven't got time for all that." was the short version of their reply.

"Didn't think I had, either, when I started birding here all the time. Problem is, all these sorts of species are mainly seen here on the water. You can't really get by with seawatching tactics. These birds made an effort to come into the estuary, now they're here, they're settled. Little need to fly anywhere."

The regular birder went his way. I was sure he muttered twenty-four as he went. Nice chap. I made a mental note to explain how the true number was even higher than forty-seven, because some loafing birds had already drifted away into sheltered creeks such as South Yantlet. I'm really sure he'll appreciate more useless tips from me.

-------

Well, the conversation didn't exactly go like that, much more civilised, wouldn't have made a good read. But the important point was taking a count as Gospel. If someone doesn't like identifying distant birds, then counts will be low, and that is often the case for occasional visitor counts you see from around the estuary. That knocks quite a few off the total, then missing the feeding birds adds to the difference. Birds might dive for half-a-minute but that doesn't mean they're up on the surface for half-a-minute; small grebes might only be up for less than ten seconds before diving again; why some birders can never turn them up. While at the same time avid readers of social media start to think those lower totals are really what is there. As with the spin in the opening preamble, don't take everything you read as Gospel. Count for yourself.

'Birds of the Western Palearctic' has sets of average dive times for most species, often differing based on depth of water being utilised; the following table is my own rough and ready calculator based on those tables, the depths the birds frequent here on the Medway over the high tide and my own timings. The list has all the commoner diving birds, but that doesn't mean they're all here- one I haven't seen here for about three decades. The main thing is it might inspire some to think about such things.

One of the best B.W.P. entries is for Great Northern Diver. Studies have shown they can spend excessively long times under- up to eight minutes. But these longer periods were not thought to be due to feeding behaviour, more likely an evasive/escape behaviour when feeling pressured. To date this winter no reports from the old Docks basins, but they have been reported via Birdtrack, so only a matter of time and a good blow I reckon, then it'll be interesting to record how long dives are there, and how often the longer ones actually see bird(s) coming up with prey. Just feeding or evading birders? Something to brighten up a dull day. The more you read, the more you want to check things out.

No barging in

An hour before high tide. One or two of the concrete barges were just starting to go under, but the roost was intact. 123 Ringed Plovers today.

Nice little mix with them; Oystercatchers, Grey Plovers, Dunlins, Redshanks, Turnstones, even some Black-tailed Godwits.

Half-hour to the top of the tide. They're gonna make it. Of course, that was just before the boat decided to take a short cut instead of staying nearer the reach.

Up and away. Quite a few waders did circuit, return and resettle, but the Ringos were having none of it, taking the two kilometre trip to Nor. Actually, eleven did come back. Which is a similar number to the usual low tide count close to the barges. Nice to think these birds are the locals. Territorial Ringos seem to do this a lot. A couple of hours before I'd watched the Sharps Green Plover posse gather on their favourite wreck. Only birds to hold their ground when an off-the-lead mad hound chased a late-feeding Redshank off into the saltings.

Makes sense if they want to get back on 'their' spots quick and defend from transients. The bulk might be coming from mid-estuary, so they can push off back there as soon as the tide drops enough. Interestingly, the eleven were all adults. Something to check on again.

The texts tell you that Ringed Plovers are not specialized feeders, but vary their diet in accordance with the prey species common in a particular area. In autumn and spring, but not in winter, food requirements can be met during daylight. Even feeding all day long in mid-winter, they have to feed at night. Lighter nights allow easier feeding (they can 'see' better) but cloud cover causes problems. Strong winds over the flats disturb prey as well. They try to keep their weights high to compensate, but Plovers lose peak condition much quicker than those waders that feel by touch. Not having undisturbed roosts here on the Medway adds to these problems. 

Rise of the Curlews

A half-hour before dawn, and a lone Curlew calls over, would you believe it, Curlew Avenue, Lower Halstow. I hurry on down to the sea wall to beat the rising tide. Sixteen more Curlew go south, calling. I scan the flats. A gathering of Curlew are by Twinney Creek. Usually when gathering to roost Curlew gather alongside Millfordhope, never this close to shore. These are going inland. Twenty more take off. Then some singletons, then thirty-one together, and so on until 106 have made the flight to south of the village.

Scanning Millfordhope, just fourteen on the favoured flat. Another 26 around and about the creeks. Roughly 70% of the Lower Halstow Curlew had gone inland. Some would be on the fields at Forge Lane, others will go as far as Gore, or the Rift Valley.

Whilst some of the Curlew to the west of Ham Green head on land at Horsham and Bayford, birds further west have nowhere else to go, thanks to the urban sprawl of the Medway Towns. East of Lower Halstow, birds spread all along the Callum ridge.

This accounts for one of the routine WeBS problems during the winter months; the 'mid-day' counts underestimate the number of birds using the Medway as an evening roost. Unless you count Curlews at dawn, you will lose a fair number inland; a trawl around the fields between Iwade south to Bobbing, west to Newington then Moor Street, will turn up two or three times the number I'd had pass overhead this morning. Many get disturbed as the day goes on, but often they move further inland to keep field- feeding, rather than head for the mud.

Then there's Queenborough. Stand on that wall just before dawn, and you'll soon appreciate how many birds out in the fields around Sheerness use the Medway for their evening roost (mainly heading back over to the Shepherds Creek/Tailness area).

Of course, this won't bring the numbers up anywhere near the nationally important minimum, but explains why the estuary total can be exceeded along the south shore from time to time.
All an excuse to explore inland a bit more I guess..

Jog on

Picked them up in the 'scope, as they crossed the old counter wall from Ferry Marshes. Jogger. It would mean I could get a fair count of birds on Chetney as this pain came through disturbing everything.

'But he's no worse than a birder' came a nagging voice in my head.

I tried to think he was, justified my indignancy because he wasn't using the marshes for anything more than a running track- he really could do that elsewhere. Okay, he's on a footpath, but that should be for people who respect the countryside. Just because I wade is getting bigger these bloomin' villagers think they can do what they want..

'But he's no worse than a birder' came the nagging voice in my head.

Of course he is, he's a runner, no way he'll ever be appreciating the wildlife. Look at everything go up- oh, hang on, he's stopped to take some phone pics of the wildlife.

'See' my internal voice said smugly, he's no worse than a birder taking pics, no worse than you'. But he'll tell his mates. Then they'll all start running the path at different times each day.

'So, no worse than a few birders then?' came the terse voice.

You know what I mean. These poor birds will be up and down, up and down, they need this sanctuary. "What? On a game shoot? Oh, look further over, there's the first four-by-four arriving." laughed the voice.

As I watched, I heard two cars pull up behind me. Birders jumped out, set up scopes, scanned a handful of times. I heard one say 'Elmley?' They jumped back in their cars, and were off.

"Ah" said voice murmured in my head. "You win. People who actually use footpaths are much worse than most birders nowadays."