Sunday, 27 November 2016

Disturbing conversations #1: the runner

For four years I've been asking questions, most politely, of the public about their activities up and down the shore. So as to get a feel for other users' viewpoints, so as to better understand the levels of disturbance waders and wildfowl put up with here. Obviously properly conducted surveys, such as I've mentioned before, are the correct way of doing research- but, to date I've not yet got into any 'robust debate', and I genuinely find I learn something.

Today's chat went something like this:

(Me, from private land, with permission): "Hi, hope you wouldn't mind me asking a question or two.." (sweet blah blah blahs, then cutting to the chase) "do you know the saltings you're just about to run out onto are an RSPB reserve with no public access?"

"Ummmm, y... no. There's no signs."
(I agree) "No, putting up a sign wouldn't stop me, I've run them for 30 years... Yes, I do run here on all sorts of tides- that's the best bit, when the birds are here; I enjoy seeing them fly up and away... I don't get to see that happen as often as I'd like as tide's not always in, but it's great when I do... This sort of spot can't just be left to the birds, we deserve pretty places to run... I used to run on the other side of the creek, but that sea wall is so pot-holed now, they ought to lay a nice running surface... What it needs is signs back in the Country Park... And hides there for you birdwatchers to go in out of everyone's way... And an education centre- we need educating..."

(I nodded in agreement to the last statement, and we parted with a handshake and a smile. Each still on their original route.)

Friday, 25 November 2016

A ring from middle estuary: #1306348

Although I now restrict myself to the southern shore I trained as a ringer under my good friend Bill Jones out on Oakham Island, which is frustratingly mid-estuary, just north of the main channel. I hope no-one objects to my publishing an occasional map from some of his ringing recoveries over the years here on this blog for interest



Grey Plover Ring no. 1306348
Ringed as an adult female, 26th May 1996, Castricum, Nord-Holland, The Netherlands.
Retrapped: 8th September 2002, Oakham.
Found 2296 days after ringing, 303 kilometres south-west of ringing site.

This time I haven't joined the two sites with a line. With the number of years between ringing and recapture, the fact the bird was an adult when ringed, and ringing was en route to breeding grounds and recapture en route for winter, the chances are that in any statistical analysis of all records, this would be weighted towards choosing a route close to the continental mainland on the way back racing back from a wintering ground much further south. This was the seventh inbound trip later, so one would hope she knew what she was doing. The autumn choice of route is influenced by the need to find somewhere to undertake a partial moult of flight feathers safely- stopping for a short period on the Medway had probably been a good choice for this bird down the years.

This sort of record always has me wondering if these birds ever take a short cut overland, say, from the Medway to the south coast. A good probability. After all, GPS studies on other migration routes have confirmed them not to be deterred by a little bit of ground, say, most of mainland Russia and China...

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Summers-Grey

In one meeting recently I was asked a question, as an aside, about Grey Plovers on the Medway. Was it true they roost over on the Swale? The question came during a chat on wader declines in the estuary. My answer was short, but deserving of a much fuller explanation so, to keep a promise...

The Swale
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Decline and fall

When I started my estuary counts I took my own year zero of 2013. Prior to that mid-nineties had seen published early winter peaks circling the 2,500 mark, peaking in January at around the 4-5,000 mark. After that time the numbers reported crashed, with the average winter count for the ten full winters to year zero scraping 660 for Nov-Jan- if correct, up to about an 87% crash. And perhaps knocking nearly 10% of the UK population off if they had disappeared completely (some 43,000 in 08/09, per BTO website).


Of course, if the figures were wrong, then so too could be this trend. That, as a simple birder, would be my incentive for getting out and enjoying the Medway. The evidence of a continuing fall via WEBs results remains a worry, but comes with a caveat that counts here are often incomplete, and un-coordinated. Could this be part of the problem?

Focusing in more closely, the BTO produced a report in 2005 in response to the drop in Grey Plovers, and several other species at the same time. Statistical testing suggested the decline in numbers from a level of International Importance had been mirrored somewhat in both the Thames and the Swale.

Big declines in North Kent as a whole. What about next door? Not seen in Essex, not as big in Sussex.

Essex totals had remained on the increase from the mid-80s, doubling to a five year average of 15- 16,000 between 1995 and 2004, with a peak of over 22,000 in 2001.

Next door, the latest Sussex Atlas says a steady increase in the 70s and 80s, but a slow decline thereafter, by only about 25% and intriguingly their best site, Pagham, remaining steady.

Concerns over these low numbers continue to this day (I was pleased to hear about ongoing work on the populations of prey items in Medway’s benthic zone) but in 2013 I was focused on published numbers and seeing for myself if current numbers were indeed correct.

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Comings and goings

A behavioral case study from Motney Hill. (Okay, I admit it, I have ideas above my station- I simply read the behaviour sections in 'Birds of the Western Palearctic' and 'The Tundra Plovers' amongst others, and tried to see for myself...)

A marked Grey Plover was in situ for a couple of winters, allowing me to track regularly. No colour-ring for this bird, but a stand out ‘summer plumage’ appearance. Yes, that’s the wrong terminology and a subject for another time; in short appearance is due to hormones out of whack rather than retention of old feathers or growth of a set at the wrong time. I nicknamed the bird ‘Summers’, so the terminology stuck. (Actually I used Summers-Grey, for all you X-Men geeks out there.)


Summers wouldn’t arrive until November, in line with many of true wintering birds. These are then usually site-faithful, with just a small amount of hard weather movement recorded.

The fun was Summers was what I term an alpha, setting up and retaining a nice little territory close to Motney Hill Saltings. A long, thin territory, based around a shallow gutway, which it defended from other Grey Plovers. Low tide, Summers would be mainly out in the furthest stretch, on the covering, much closer. A long, thin territory with a moving core, easily mapped.

Feeding is primarily by sight, mainly surface-picking/-probing, so having a clearly defined productive stretch to defend from incomers appears a good survival technique. Many Grey Plovers do the same. Her neighbours did likewise, of course I could only presume to be the same birds, Dave, Dave and Dave (for all you Trigger fans). Occasionally one of the Daves would get a little too close and there would be a bit of parading, a bit of running about and calling, but very little actual aggression (why waste energy fighting?).

As the tide rose, the territory shrank until Summers would be up against the edge of the saltings. Now, if you have a territory, and there is safe roosting close by, why fly any distance to a roost? Summers would simply retreat up into the saltings, sometimes joined closely by Dave, sometimes by Dave and Dave, sometimes all the Daves (no feeding to protect, why fight?)

February saw Summers disappear around the same time as the other two regular Summers present (this interesting plumage type was not as rare as I'd originally thought) one from Funton, one from Copperhouse.

The Copperhouse bird tells the rest of the Grey Plover story. Texts hint at only about a third of studied populations being territorial. Large open flats are less easily marked out, so territories are harder to define and defended. Here, loose associations build up which I called the Betas. Small flocks (usually up to about 30/40**) of non-territorial birds would drift about a favourite route of flats.



**Actually, I’m amazed how many times my counts come out as ‘38’. Getting to the point where a group flies goes past and I automatically start writing 38... The texts say usually up to 30, but 38 is the magic number here on the Medway.

Are my terms Alpha and Beta right? Well, most of the recognisable juveniles are in the loose flocks, seemingly rarely holding a territory. An advantage to a territory is a bird with a creek or runnel to call home with a cosy windbreak to hunker down in. It sort of pointed to a dominant strategy to me at first, but I had to remind myself the Copperhouse Summers bird was non-territorial, a Beta (pictured above, with chums at roost) and doing alright. The texts hint at birds adopting one or other strategy for life. Loose non-territorial flocks obviously do work.

So, the birds on the Medway appear to behave much as the birds elsewhere. A question for me now was I could fairly easily count territorial birds on the low tide. Were these local territorial numbers going to come out at around the one in three of the population mark? I doubted it, as every estuary is different, but it would be fun to find a figure.


Roosting patterns

Tides bring the loose flocks into close association with several Alphas as the waters cover. Often a flock just 'appears'. Again, why go that far to roost when feeding is good? Sometimes, yes, several beta feeding flocks congeal into a larger roost flock (especially for higher tides) and you had the idea of the species being a flocking bird, but that is not the whole story.

Take birds around Rainham. As well as trying to roost on Motney and Rainham Saltings on slacker tides, they will often move out to Friars and the old walls of Nor, as well as Darnet. On low tide, these loose flocks might be found on the adjacent mudflats mid-channel. They have a circuit, and whether you pick most of them all up depends on the tidal state.

Down estuary, Lower Halstow sees an assembly on the south side of Millfordhope saltings, moving onto Greenborough by Millfordhope Creek, whilst Funton birds come together close to Barksore or on the Bedlams saltings. Higher tides they move onto the seawalls, a few times over them.  At this point worth remembering they can feed inland at night. From some nocturnal wanderings around Otterham Creek the Greys based there do a lot of territorial calling on a dark rise, before switching over onto grassland for the odd earthworm or six.

Grey Plover ringed inside the seawall, 2016 - note nictitating membrane, the 'third eyelid')


In daylight, close to the Swale, I have seen small numbers pop over the Bedlams seawall. And I have seen them drop back. But never any determined flight at height, suggestive  a longish flight switching water bodies.

I also think this because, when watching at Queenborough, Grey Plovers coming into the Medway off the Roas and Minster Flats always do so over water. Always at a bit of height. I have never had them doing the Curlew trick of routinely commuting overland south of Sheerness from the Minster flats. There is no real rhyme or reason to Grey Plover flights into the Medway. The Thames, Swale and Medway just come together as one body here, the birds don’t know our political boundaries. Sometimes they just feel safer on Deadmans/ Burntwick.

Very, very few of these birds head down the Swale. If they do go past me, they stop at Shepherd's Creek behind Deadmans. The Swale does a narrow s-bend past there, making for a convoluted route to any safe roost further on.

All this is not to say, from time to time, that Grey Plovers do not enter the Swale. Someone may have seen it. It just doesn’t isn't logical for it to be a routine behaviour.

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Number crunching

A conservative estimate of easily countable territorials from the southern sea wall, copmbined with flocks operating between Upnor Reach and Deadman’s reaches the 400 mark fairly easily. And as I did not discover the 30% figure for a while, I was pleased that I hadn't been influenced by it. My estimations came out at about a 40% territorial take up, surely a reasonable margin of difference.

The published WeBS counts of late have not reflected these sort of numbers:

10/11 - 641
11/12 - 373
12/13 - 154
13/14  - 72
14/15 – 198
5 year average 288.
The last Low Tide Count in 13/14 came in at just 120.

And these are, of course, for the whole of the Medway Estuary, not just my southern shore.

The WeBS counts are incomplete. They should take place on high tide when Grey Plover can be tucked up in small groups among the saltings at high tide- it would be hard to count them all at the best of times. Low tide and many of the Beta flocks would be out mid-Channel, where, even with 'scopes hard to pick up unless flighting.


What next?

As far as WeBS is concerned, the local BTO Regional Rep, Geoff Orton, has been calling for more volunteers this autumn @gronto . The more the merrier. When I last spoke with him, the pipedream of a full crew plus reserves to ensure a complete co-ordinated count remained just that. Help is needed. Low Tide Counts, usually every five years or so, were the same last time out.

If you are out along the south Medway and you provide records to the various bodies, do send in and try to refine the site details. Include in your notes whether in flocks, in flight. This will allow more detailed analysis.

If anyone wants, have a go at proving/disprove my figures- here’s how to do it. Gillingham/Rainham side, count the various bays separately from low tide onward on a windless day. Count any groups present (all of which will be 38), then add any further groups arriving from mid-estuary (Bartlett, Bishops, South Yantlet, Middle).

It will start to make sense.

To the east, Ham Ooze is a little more perplexing, but most groups just move into the Greenborough complex, a few might continue into Funton/Halstow. Check the distant edge of Millfordhope where many pre-assemble.

For the far east, 'scope Blackstakes and Queenborough Spit well before the 2.5 metre, then hold out until full tide for stragglers coming in from the Thames.

I’m slightly tongue-in-cheek as I say that, I know I'm one of a small few willing to dedicate so much time on such things, and can’t really expect others to do likewise- but if you do send records in, all of this helps show why it’s worth recording which creek and state of tide- and that your general counts, however small, are worthwhile.


The rest of the year

To complete the Grey Plover year, small flocks do occur in Spring but the bigger numbers are in autumn.

Most winterers leave February into March, and any late March/April counts are transients, often only staying a few days.



Return passage can be encountered from July onward. Present numbers probably best mirror the early-eighties results- an August arrival, mid-estuary, of a flock of 500 or more in summer finery is always a red-letter day. Typically, some will only stay a few days then move, others will spread out and then carry out part of the moult of their flight feathers over several weeks. There is then a gradual drop-off before the November winterers pour in.

This might hint at a reason for the drop in recorded numbers. Typically, birders do not routinely count anymore. And there are fewer birders straying away from the honeypots in North Kent. Always a red-letter day when I bump into a birder in late summer now.

That short window of midsummer is murder, as you are usually tracking down just a single flock of young birds seeing out their first year well away from breeding grounds (yup, 38 again). They will spend a few days on one creek only to then perhaps pop up mid-estuary on Ham Ooze before venturing into another part of the estuary for a short period. Do they ever cross the main channel north? Just once to date, so I can’t yet say this is a regular occurrence.

All in all, there is still an awful lot to find out about the birds here. But from what I’d seen so far- did the Medway Grey Plovers roost regularly over in the Swale? That short answer had been 'nah'.




Monday, 21 November 2016

An apology. Sorry for not posting more of late, but have been busy producing a few reports for other bodies. All of which now means I can plagiarise my own writings and knock out quite a few jottings for here...

Thursday, 8 September 2016

Nothing to see here, clear off, aint'cha got no homes to go to?




So 'my' chimney bit the dust yesterday. I'll admit it now; I went.

I avoided the crowds by going to the hillside at Funton. My first choice spot would have been Queenborough, but I like to steer clear people wherever/whenever I can. That stretch of the Swale was visible through the 'scope, and the size of the throng there would definitely have put me right off. Even the remote Chetney footpath was the busiest I'd ever seen it, and I later found out the masses were spread the length of the southern shore- from photos on twitter the even the saltings of the RSPB reserve at Motney were lined by the public as well.

But here, up on the hill, it was just me and the Yellow Wagtails. (And the farmer, but he had the decency to park his four by four some distance from me, we must have met at some point I guess.)


As I watched that crowd while counting down the minutes I took the liberty of recalling the words of Emma Lazarus, still to be found on a famous statue in New York harbour:


“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
 
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: 
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

It struck me this was probably the biggest mass out on 'my' estuary wall for many a year. Come to see the light snuffed out. The demolition was set for low tide, so low potential for any obvious crowd disturbance impact on feeding waders. Now had this been done on purpose I wondered? Perhaps I should have risked those crowds, to see if any waders dared to hang about on those flats off of Queenborough Point?

Local social media groups will know I've referred in the past to a Medway Council commissioned study from a few years back into bird disturbance in North Kent by people (spoiler alert, c/o table 3.19- us birders really don't fare that well in it) and it could have been interesting to monitor any reactions to large crowds.



Of course, I only sussed all of this at 'boom(!) minus eleven', way, way too late to do anything about it(!). Why I'm just one of the masses rather than a mover and shaker I guess? (Ah well, I suppose there's always Kingsnorth chimney, due to come down in 2017.)

Of course, to rub it in, BOU later the same day went and tweeted a link to a paper suggesting certain wintering wader species can just about put up with up to a whopping 162 separate human-related disturbances a day(!) but only on extremely large estuaries such as the Wash. It adds the caveat (thankfully!) that disturbance will always cause problems for waders, and then talks of 'buffer zones' and 'set-back distances'.

What can 'my' birds here take?

It brought me back to the ongoing planning for Coast Path access around the Medway estuary. Whilst having to avoid damaging SSSIs and SPAs (the latter of course being a European directive), people have to be given more access.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore..."

I'm clearly not getting that poem out my head any time soon. No matter what prejudices I have personally about it, footfall on 'my' estuary will be getting busier soon. Of course it goes without saying I'll be one of the first out taking advantage of any new stretch of public access. No doubt adding a few more disturbance events to those daily totals, no matter how hard I try. I'll be part of the pressure.

I really, really, don't envy the jobs of those trying to get the balance right.

Tuesday, 6 September 2016

Reflections




I'm torn. My favourite man-made landmark on the estuary gets blown to kingdom come in the morning, and I really haven't made up my mind whether to watch the fall of this old friend or not. You see, not only do (did) I look at it every day, I have been lucky enough to look down from the top of it a couple of times.

The external safety lights needed routine inspection, and the sparkies had passed comment on the number of dead birds behind the fittings to the Environmental Initiatives Officer. Having passed the medical to say fit enough for the stairs, I was allowed to accompany them on their trips. The two poor quality snaps reproduced below are 'x-rated' record shots of, first, the number of corpses that could be recovered on one six-monthly inspection and, second, the chimney nesting platform so thoughtfully provided by the owners but being used, rather ungratefully, as a larder, by the birds responsible- Peregrines.

Contrary to many birders' beliefs, the Peregrines never actually nested on the chimney- that was some distance elsewhere, but the chimney made for a great hunting perch, towering some 802 feet over a dozen "football stadium floodlights" which lit up the entire site all night long, making passing birds easy targets. The peregrines could be busy at night, often to be heard on the wing calling, by the small team of bird ringers arriving to set nets pre-dawn.

When their feeding was good, the breast meat might be all that was taken or, sometimes, just the brain. The adults would also bring their young to the chimney to teach hunting skills by having them fly out to snatch a deliberately dropped kill. So, while the older corpses were a matted mess to try to identify, any fresher kills were much easier. Waders featured highly; Woodcock, Snipe, Jack Snipe, Lapwing, Golden Plover, Knot, Dunlin... Water Rail and Little Grebe also featured, land birds included Skylark and Quail, Little Tern was on the menu, and, much to the annoyance of some, even a rarity, a male Little Bittern (not much chance of that plumage sneaking past under the floodlights).




40 plus species noted on my visits if I recall correctly- though my notes are long gone, and the ringing station logbook is probably somewhere in storage gathering dust. The records were copied in to the county ornithological society at the time, though full details never made print, as station security was on 'high alert' due to terrorist threats. Part of the visiting arrangements were that the ringing team had to avoid publicity and not attract 'extra public' to the fenceline (though news of the Little Bittern did go out some time after the event to provide a story at the time of the first 'No Aiport at Cliffe' Campaign- no birder really wants to 'tick' rehab birds, yet alone one way beyond any veterinary help).

Great memories. Certainly cured me of my fear of heights. What the heck, the chimney is on north side of the estuary and I do only bird the south side nowadays- I will go and watch it fall. Maybe.

The view to Allhallows

Grain village

Smithfield Marsh
2002, 244 metres up
2016, one metre down

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Traces of ribbons


Blame the bloom. All I've been doing of late. The algal matting has been bad this summer, so much so large swathes of mudflat have looked like green fields (and still do). All of which makes feeding tough for many species. Try getting your bill through that, Mr Plover.


I hadn't thought it should affect Oystercatchers as much, feeding mainly mid-Channel on the deeper water mussel beds, but numbers have been depressed these past few weeks- the bloom has even been covering large parts of Bartlett Spit and Bishop Ooze. Maybe some other factors come into play as well, just how is their prey coping? Whatever the cause, I didn't hold high hopes for numbers in the Ham Ooze complex tonight. Just over 170 end of July, just under 200 on the 8th. Thankfully, an increase, now just over 400. Still lower than hope for.

But the real Oystercatcher show was yet to come.

As I have said before, Oystercatcher was the first species I thought of studying a little on my move back- big, black and white, easy to identify at distance. Brighten the birding up a bit. Now in the fourth autumn, I can make some reasonable guesses at what they're up to. So, a summer rise, covering just after dusk and still a relatively 'low' high tide, the neaps having been in the past few days? Watch the north-east sky.

Starting about thirty minutes before sunset (when large feeding areas would still have been available), ribbons of Oystercatchers started to flight into the Medway. 34, 50, 64, 16, 73... two ribbons at once, now three, five... it might not excite many birders, but I was smiling. And so it continued until I was having to pick out lines in the glow of the lights on the Yari liquid natural gas container ship towering over Saltpan Reach. When I finally quit it felt as if they were still coming.

A (sort of) final total- 77 ribbons, 2,093 birds.

Tidal conditions had been similar at the end of July. 27 ribbons of 776 birds. Both times the majority of the birds had put down around the western end of Sharfleet creek, just west of Sharpness saltings, an area that usually floods on the spring tides. Which might explain why similar dusk counts on much higher spring tides usually produce smaller numbers of Oycs. Perhaps at this present time in the tidal range cycle the Medway becomes a safer option than their Grain/Allhallows beach roost sites along the south shore of the Thames? Perhaps a safer option because of predator risk? The shoreline will be patrolled by foxes and the like, and human activity often involves night fishing. None of that on these saltings.

Well, the south Medway feeders, the birds I'd counted on Ham Ooze, did not change their own roost- as always, they left Ham Ooze for Chetney Hill (green on map below). It was just birds from out in the Greater Thames. Tracing their flightlines back, a good volume came straight down the eastern flank of Grain, over the Roas Bank and the Flats, areas that can hold big feeding numbers. But many of these birds were seemingly travelling greater distances. Several lines were out over deep water, east of Grain Spit, a few more due east seemingly skirting the northern edge of Sheppey. Oystercatchers are known to travel many kilometres for a safe roost, and birds have always been known to cross the four miles or so of Thames to reach the Yantlet roost. Perhaps some were Essex birds on a night out.

Curlews(!) Or, more to the point, no curlews(!) There's a thought. At other times, 'normal' roost movements from the Thames to roost in the Medway might land at first available port of call, Deadman's Island, and involve several more species, the most obvious (in size and number) being Curlew. But they were not a feature of these neap tide dusk flights. A token 30 tonight. Whatever causes the Oycs to change flightplans, it doesn't give the Curlews any concern.

Back to the show. Some were on headings for roosts other than Sharfleet creek. A small number went straight south into the Swale, lost to sight somewhere below Queenborough. A few had stayed north of Saltpan Reach, turning in to Hoo saltings. Intriguingly, some of these then seemed to gain height and double back on themselves, overland to the Flats. A small number of birds were certainly arriving  behind them overland as well, plotted back towards Yantlet Creek. Not unexpected; for many years it has been well known waders use the Yantlet to swap estuaries (yellow line). I could well have been missing many more Oycs on a bearing just west of that.



A few birders know about these movements but they are rarely documented, which is a loss. Think of those ridiculous 'Boris Island airport' proposals (thank goodness he busy playing Foreign Secretary for a while). Just shy of 1,800 Oycs had crossed his runway approach in 35 minutes, another couple of hundred cut through his terminal. These are scheduled flights at certain times of year. How to bird scare that lot? No wonder they merrily hinted at a bird exclusion zone being able to deal with the estuary. They have no idea of what goes on.

Another example for birders everywhere; never rely on just the formal WeBS counts and the like to protect your estuary. Nocturnal roosts can be completely different sites from the daytime. Neaps from springs. Any incomplete recording undervalues the true usage.

My starting point in 2013 had been the available printed records. Highlighting August maxima, such roost counts were either being missed or (outside chance) had not been happening. At certain times could the whole of this estuary actually be hosting numbers much nearer national importance than those being published? Latest printed WeBS continue in the same pattern of lower annual maxima. Tonight there had certainly been 2,400 on show from this small stretch of the southern seawall. It's fun finding out.