Showing posts with label Nor Marsh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nor Marsh. Show all posts

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Horrid autumn- 31/8/17


Looking east and a fog bank below Beacon Hill at the start of the Hoo Peninsula,
closing off the westerly flightline- raised hopes, soon dashed.

The Mystic, stuck on Nor.

Grey Plover to roost; the major pre-roost assembly on Rainham Saltings headed
for Nor, but quickly diverted from their chosen area on the seawall between the
Mystic and its row-boat.

-----------
31/08/17
06:10-08:20

Point: no migrants
Viz mig: two Teal west, Common Sandpiper east.

Monday, 28 August 2017

Horrid autumn- 28/8/17

A Horrid factoid- The two RSPB reserves on the estuary, Nor Marsh and Motney Hill, have no access for visitors. Horrid is the best viewpoint, where an interpretation board has been installed on behalf of both the RSPB and Medway Council, freeholders of Nor and Motney.

If you are prepared to bring your own folding chair, the board can act as a fairly poor windbreak.



-----------
28/08/17
06:00-08:00

Robin- common beach feeders on Horrid

Point- Single Reed Warbler.

Viz mig- Seven Yellow Wagtail south, five Common Tern south-west. Two Grey Wagtail east-northeast (the usual direction for early autumn dispersal as birds move downriver)

Offshore- Two Kingfisher on the rocks either side of the Point; once they met up, a chase to Copperhouse ensued.

So, quiet then- back to yesterday's game of count the dispersing wader roost. The texts will say waders tend to leave in a set order, this does does generally work as a rule. Each day brings differences; on a slightly lower tide, more Redshank had been able to hang on at the Rainham saltings roost and there was less urgency to return, and the Curlew had roosted on Oakham, so were in no mood to rush back.

In general though, tide-edge followers are first away. With few Dunlin in, it could be blink-and-you-miss-them. Black-tailed Godwit are happy to start feeding close to shore (and can remain until disturbed). Some Grey Plover and Redshank established territories on the flats. A good many others are still working as loose flocks; these mix-in, often wanting to get to their spots as soon as uncovered, so the movement is pretty much over once the main departure takes place. Turnstone aren't really living up to their names at the moment, carrying out an awful lot of 'peck-feeding' on the mud (most are refueling to continue their migrations south, our overwinterers have yet to arrive). The larger the wader, the slower out the blocks. Oystercatcher and Curlew are among the last to leave roost. Presumably their specialist feeding techniques mean they are not having to compete with other species that much, can feed up and retire. Or, they like to supplement the mudflat feeding with a bit of fieldwork when the ground is damp, so they can carry on over throughout a tidal cycle if needs be.

Not setting the world alight with such observations, just enjoying seeing the texts come to life, and getting to understand more about how all the habitats in and around the estuary play a part. The land migrants might be missing, but there's always something to enjoy.


-----

Rewarded myself with a second trip at high tide (having made a covering tide count nearby). Impressed to find a minimum of 880 Starling using Horrid as a high-tide roost. The idea that large roosts act as 'information centres' felt spot on; the constant short bursts from individual birds felt like a 'look at me, I'm well-fed'. Anthropomorphic twaddle, but fun nonetheless.

And something even the public noticed. A couple stopped me (thinking that I looked liked someone who'd know about birds, think the 'scope gave it away) to ask all about them, and then said they'd heard about murmurations thanks to 'Autumnwatch' and would love to see one. Gave them details, but made me think *memo to County Society/ local RSPB Groups*- why not hold a well- promoted/publicised trip to view a murmuration, for the general public? (You're welcome.)

Shame to see the Nor and Friars roosts cleared by a low-flying microlight. Certainly when Kingsnorth Power Station was operational the rule of the estuary was no flying below 150 feet; the reverend, working out on Oakham, was often reporting low-flyers. Today's disturbed birds made west for the Greenborough complex, or north (as in the case of the Curlew pictured) to Oakham. Birds need an awful lot of safe sites. Especially when somewhere like Nor (an RSPB reserve) isn't as safe throughout the tide as some believe.





Wednesday, 15 March 2017

Friars Nor Frys


I've been trying to get my money's worth from my Council Tax. I had the Local Archives elves pouring over old maps and documents in an attempt to get to the bottom of a niggling question:
What is the oldest recorded name for one particular piece of land out in the middle estuary- Frys Marsh, or Friars Saltings?

Sadly, the question beat the elves. So many of the anciente mappes of Medwaye watery bittes seem to consist of 'here there be dragons', and not very much else. And the latest OS maps didn't help, either.

Why does this really matter? Well, pure OCD on my part. To a historian, the original name might well be the best. But what about to the present-day landowner? They probably wouldn't be too happy if you keep getting it wrong- and as I get on well with the present owners, I use their choice- Friars. I'll come on to the geographical/ornithological importance for getting this right a little later in the post. First though, the name.

Three elements to consider here-

     (i) Is it Frys or Friars?

     (ii) Is it marsh or saltings?

     and (iii) is there a cure for my grammar pedantry regarding a lack of apostrophe in both names?

Blue- Nor Marsh. Yellow- Friars/Frys.
Orange, the public viewpoint at Horrid Hill

Let's take (ii) first, nice and general-


- Marsh or saltings?

A marsh is a piece of land that floods regularly, freshwater or saltwater, and something remains waterlogged for a considerable time. A salting is a British term for coastal land regularly inundated by saltwater. Here, the old maps do come good- the area was consistently marked as 'saltings'. Makes sense. Up to the floods of '53, the land adjacent to Friars/Frys, Nor Marsh ,was indeed a marsh, being an 'island' protected by a complete sea wall, full of creeks and fleets. This land next door to Nor, unprotected, inundated on highest spring tides, could well be called a marsh but was, and is, more precisely, saltings.

So, let's rephrase part (i) of the question- Frys Saltings or Friars Saltings?


- The case for Frys:

Just south of the Country Park, north of the railway line, were a series of old farms. A few remain as farms, more technically parts of larger farms, whilst others are remembered through the names of private houses and converted barns. One is still signposted nicely- Fry's Farm.



A local birder who had grown up in the area in the 1950s has told me in the past that he had always known the parcel of saltings as "Fry's", because the Fry family had been the tenant farmers whose cattle had been put out to pasture on Nor prior to the flood of '53. And somehow that name got passed on to RSPB staff when they took over the liaison for local WeBS counts in the '90s, and it stuck. If you check the the BTO WeBS pages, it is still in use today.



- The case for Friars:


Argument (a) The saltings belong to Kent Wildfowlers. As do the saltings just north of Nor, on the far side of South Yantlet Creek, Bishops. "Bishops and Friars"? Now could that be a throwback to the days when an awful lot of land locally, including much of the now long gone farmland, belonged to the Church? Fanciful? Perhaps. Tracing the history of land lost back to the estuary is a bit of a challenge.

But argument (b) is much more forceful- possession. nine-tenths of the law and all that. The organisation that owns it, manages it, does use a different name to RSPB and BTO, and has used that name since they formed over half a century ago, before the start of WeBS and the like. (That year was the same as when Nor Marsh was flooded then abandoned- 1953.) Their website records they purchased the freehold in 1985. Freehold implies legal documentation, so you'd think they'd be getting the name right.

For me, a no-brainer. If I called any private site I surveyed by a different name to that used by the landowner, I'd get some strong feedback. The answer has to be Friars Saltings.



And (iii)? Well, sad to say there's still no cure for my pedantry.


Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours

Neighbours. You have to try and get on with them. Friars adjoins Nor. Nor is owned by Medway Council and leased to the RSPB, whose website currently describes their Nor and Motney reserves as follows:


At first glance, all reads well, but once you appreciate 'the saltmarsh islands' is plural, taking in the mix of landowners on the estuary, and the mix of of birds rely on each landowner, you start to see the value of being more specific. Most land-based birders only know the Nor/Friars complex as 'Nor'. Figures in various reports will always read 'x roosting on Nor'. The problem is, quite often they weren't. They were roosting on Friars. A whole different set up, not a reserve, instead a routinely worked saltings.


Take an older image off Google Earth at high tide and you can clearly see how much more of Nor is innundated by the tide nowadays. Since the breach in '53, much of the land has eroded and now just parts of the sea wall and a few odd stretches stay above a spring tide. Friars is slightly higher, slightly drier, and more 'natural', so appeals to more of the roosting waders for many of the tides. The dry stone-covered stretches of the Nor seawall are used less often; sometimes preferred when shooters are in situ on Friars, but even then not always, as the wildfowlers tend to stick to one or two spots and the birds can always make for Bishop.

Specks roosting on a distant Friars, 01/16

Breeding? The majority of the gulls and terns that attempt on Nors/Friars complex are on the saltings. The Black-headed Gulls do get by on Nor on a few linear stretches of the seawall plus one raised area that just about survives the tides- but the larger colonies of 'Nor' are actually on the wildfowlers' land.

Of course, Nor can be better for some things; full of duck over the tide, but they are wary so, as with many spots around the estuary, only use Nor routinely after the end of the shooting season. Even then, many duck can tuck themselves away in Friars.

Neighbours have to get on. For me, getting the neighbours' name right is one of the first steps to having good working relationships. I cannot fathom why 'we' birders continue to ignore the landowners' name for this stretch of the estuary. Pain in the backside that I am, yes, I've already pointed this out to many observers. One such reason for continuing to do so is the breeding colonies.


Neighbourhood Watchers

The gulls are now back on Nor. And on Friars. Ready to face the threats of another breeding season. Everyone wants the birds to do well. Two summers ago, many of the gulls on the accessible stretches of Nor deserted, with rumours of robbery abounding in the local community. Further thievery was suspected last year further along the estuary.

Last year's message regarding egg thieves may well, sadly, need highlighting again. We all need to be vigilant. Any good neighbourhood watch only works when neighbours get on and look out for each other.

So, for the local birders; next time you record those birds from Horrid Hill, why not consider recording roosts/breeding colonies, etc, as either Nor, or Friars? It all helps the overall understanding of the way our estuary works. And we can report any potential egg thieves out among our colonies in just the same way- the more specific your observations, the better chance of action.

Wednesday, 6 January 2016

Shallow divers

The two regular diving duck species on the estuary at this time are Red-breasted Merganser and Goldeneye. The local guide books always mention them, but sometimes visitors leave disappointed. They are not easy. There are never that many of them, and it's a big estuary.

As with any visit, you need to be thinking about the state of the tide.

Both species feed routinely at just a few metres' depth, and follow their prey. High tides can be frustrating. Making/falling tides can be the best bet.

This morning was one of the good days. Arriving at Bloors Wharf just as the water started to ebb from the shore, a pair of drake Mergansers had taken a liking to Rainham Creek. Creeks are often a lure for the fresh water, but they were more interested in feeding. The Creek had been excellent the day before when a Common Seal was clearly catching Flounders with ease, and today must have had small shoals present as the Mergs continued to feed actively for the 90 minutes I watched them.

There was also a pair of Drake Goldeneye, but much further out, on the northern edge of Bartlett Creek. "Adequate 'scope views" in the birding parlance. (That is, if you squint you can just , just, make out the cheek patch. With imagination.)

I returned at low tide in the late afternoon. A mile of mud, but knowing where to squint found the birds settled in the shallow creek separating Nor Marsh and Friar's Saltings. The creek holds a fair depth of water (and food) over a neap low water.

The Mergs continued to feed, but now the Goldeneye were displaying. There were now four, three males and a female. Two males kept tight to the wake of the female, displaying at her all the time. Courtship display.

Intriguingly, among ducks there is a fine line between love and hate. The same movements that make up the courtship display can often be found in territorial defence and in outright aggression.

So what exactly was in the mind of the third Goldeneye was a little harder to tell. He sat just a matter of metres away, busy going through the very same motions, all the head-pointing, the head upending, the bowspriting that the other males were engaged in, but he was displaying at a Great Crested Grebe.

Had the Grebe been fishing too close? Was this pent-up frustration being vented, with the female preferring the other males? Impossible to tell which side of the fine line, but the Grebe remained completely indifferent either way.