April 2015 -- Greenfinches and a grey wagtail

I always find that the arrival of spring in our region is signalled by two distinct occurrences: the drumming of the Greater spotted woodpeckers and the spawning of frogs. For a few days now, the amphibians have been producing large quantities of spawn in the culvert draining from the Little Sea and small heads are visible above the water, amid faint grunting and bubbling sounds.

Greenfinch

     The highly attractive black, white and red woodpecker is increasing steadily, being found wherever there is reasonable tree-cover. Their presence is often indicated by a shrill yelping call, and as I walked along the other morning, one glided overhead emitting a loud staccato chatter. The bird appeared white from below and was presumably a male on a mating display flight. Another bird answered from nearby.

     I love the clear colours offered by Nature at this time of the year. Yellowish-green greenfinches wheeze from upper branches and goldfinches burst into 3-D and glorious technicolour. At the quieter end of the spectrum, I never tire of the flawlessly elegant

Grey wagtail

grey wagtail.

Every so often, I repair to the scenic Castleshaw Reservoirs for some quiet birdwatching. On Sunday 22nd March, though, the approach road held many cars as a marathon-run finished at the study centre. AS the supporters applauded exhausted runners, I walked to the upper reservoir and it was not long before a dainty grey wagtail appeared on the stones at the water’s edge. Following the movement of this bird led to a redshank pecking with great energy between the stone setts. Watching at close range here, it was possible to admire the dark streaks and speckles of the brown plumage. One of the long orange-crimson legs was fitted with a ring. Other wading birds could also be heard. A pair of oyster-catchers circled over the water, their piping sound evocative of the sea-shore, and the magnificent rolling call of a curlew echoed somewhere in the background. A pair of goldeneye ducks could be seen at a distance. Tough little things and low in the water.

     As I walked back down the lane, I happened to glance over the wall to see a slow-moving pair of great-crested grebes. In breeding plumage, they were sedate and lovely on the water, with the ear-tufts up and chestnut neck frills fully displayed. Surely one of our finest species.

March 2015 -- a Mistel thrush and Galanthus nivalis

When I haven’t seen a kingfisher for some time, I experience a feeling that something is missing. One day a few weeks ago, however, at 4:40p.m., I peered over the low wall flanking the culvert in front of Strinesdale water treatment works. As the light began to fade and a salmon-hued wash coloured the sky towards Oldham, a small olive-brown bird sailed into flight and shot away round the curve of the stream. What distinguished the bird and made it special was the diamond-shaped panel of blue light adorning its back – it was a kingfisher.

Mistel thrush

    Another common yet elusive gem was visible near the lower reservoir recently. Goldcrests re usually highly active, so it made a welcome change to gain a prolonged view of one. The overused adjective ‘exquisite’ is perhaps the best descriptive term for Northern England’s smallest bird. As I watched it pecking for insects on the bark of a young willow, the head was lowered to reveal a clear yellow stripe, identifying the bird as female. According to Collins Guide, the male has some orange in there as well as yellow.

    During the frosts of January, the longed-for advent of spring seems somewhat distant. As February proceeds, though, signs of new life are heard. A blackbird sings hard at 6a.m., demonstrating subtle and inventive variations, while the minor twitter of Christmas-card stalwart, the robin, is heard everywhere. A Mistle thrush heard in the distance is repetitive but with a golden quality, and afternoon song thrushes are almost at full throttle. Or should that be throstle?

    If increasing birdsong foretells the coming of spring, the humble snowdrop signals that winter is half done. I was admiring some in the lower reaches of Greenacres Cemetery, planted on or around a few graves, and thinking how well thes3 small waxen blooms had come through the cold and snow without damage. Remarkable, in this over-busy age with its thunderous traffic and digital communications madness, there exists a frenzied enthusiasm for growing them. A modest number of species has given rise to dozens of named varieties, each having an individual and distinctive charm.

Galanthus nivalis

While these sometimes command high prices for a single bulb, the ordinary species, Galanthus nivalis, is as good as any. The name translates as ‘milk-flower of the snow’. John Sales, a retired gardens advisor to the National Trust, grows 250 different sorts. Having discovered a sturdy snowdrop which flowers reliably at the beginning of the year, he has playfully named it ‘January Sales’.

January 2015 -- Bullfinches and a goosander

As someone with a lifelong appreciation of nature, I greatly regret the years when the interest was ‘on the back burner’. Unfortunately, the wasted years coincided with travels to some interesting places which would have offered a cornucopia of wildlife. The memories I have of storks nesting on rooftops in Yugoslavia, of flamingos in southern France and alpine plants in Switzerland could have been augmented by so much more. As a result of this sad lapse, I now greatly appreciate the natural history of our local area.

Goosander

    Having a ‘local patch’ is important in this context and we are more than fortunate to enjoy the green spaces of our churchyard and surrounding areas where we can follow seasonal changes. A looked-forward-to duck visitor can be seen now on both Strinesdale reservoirs – the goosander. I was watching a group of seven recently, the males outrageously handsome in smart black and white plumage like Hollywood A-listers dressed for a big bash. They were swimming with a restrained power in search of fish, diving for thirty seconds at a time, the less flamboyant females equally purposeful. On the wing, they appear fast and streamlined, making flight seem effortless.

A large flock of lapwings passed over, flickering black and white against a blue sky and travelling towards Yorkshire, reminding me of the occasion when I saw an adult bird hustling some fledglings along a lane. Numbers of this charismatic [lover are recorded as in decline, but they are often seen crowding the roofs of modern industrial buildings, presumably enjoying the rising warmth.

Bullfinch (male)

    One of my favourite small birds is the bullfinch. I love the sturdy build, jet-black head, the bright rose-red breast of the male and quieter coloration of the female. I also appreciate a view of birds in an attractive setting. This week a small flock of bullfinches has been enthusiastically ripping into the white rowan berries in the churchyard. The finches look wonderful amid a veil of white. This is gratifying since I raised this Chinese tree from seed.

    Other fine species visible within a short distance of the church include the grey wagtail, the dipper, often on the golden steps and the widely-established great spotted woodpecker. The winsome nuthatch is present, characterised by a delightful clear call. One of the dog-walkers leaves seed on posts as she goes by, the nuthatch soon appearing to feed.