Bird Count

The team of voluntary counters assembles in the car park at 7 am on a spring Sunday. A huddle of 20 figures in shades of green or khaki huddle at the back of a car to collect their data sheets before setting off in pairs along their assigned routes.

This session is one of three or four breeding bird surveys that we make every summer. The results will tell us which birds are doing well and which ones are not, leaving us to try and work out if the changes are due to our work, changes in the habitat, or could it be changing weather patterns here or perhaps in Africa?

The weather is very important.
'Looks like rain coming.

The weather on the day makes a lot of difference. If it is cold, windy or wet then birds will be harder to find than on a warm sunny day. The first survey in April will have a lot less migrants around than the one in May, and by June the reserve is full of bird families making a confusing amount of hisses clucks ad whistles but not singing.

From my bedroom window, this morning looked like being ideal. Yesterday’s rain, hail and wind had gone but when I reached my car the windows were coated with a thick film of ice and the breeze felt much colder than I expected.

The sight of seven newly arrived summer swallow on the wires near our visitor centre were a welcome site and led us to think there would be more surprises in store. A cuckoo called from across the meadow and chiffchaffs, black-caps and garden warblers seemed to be in every bush.

Our modus operandi is quite simple, we record every bird that we see or hear on a base map. Exactly the same routes are employed every time and we try to spend about the same time on each survey so we can compare on year with another. It sounds easy but birds can be very unpredictable, skulking silently in the undergrowth or all singing at once to make it hard to tell who is who and how many there are.

Reed warblers clamour away in the reeds in a rhythmic buzz of whistles and clicks that surely must come from two birds? Or is it three? No it’s one. Or is it a sedge warbler? Is that a blackcap singing? It sounds a bit too melodic. Maybe it’s a garden warbler. Yes, it’s a garden warbler, there it is. Oh no, it’s got a black cap!

Sedge warbler

Even when a bird reveals itself it is not always easy to put a name to it. Chiffchaffs and willow warblers look identical except for their leg colour and the bramble bushes are full of little brown jobs (LBJs) that could be sparrows, dunnocks, finches, robins, warblers or even something extremely rare, which of course they never are.

Today’s count produced a few surprises. I was startled by a sudden very loud outburst of Chip Cherrup Cherrupupup coming from a little clump of brambles in the meadow. Cetti’s warblers are almost never seen but you can’t miss their call. Why do they have to be so loud though? Perhaps their territories are very large? I’m quite deaf these days but Cetti’s warblers still make me jump. On the other hand I struggle even hear the high-pitched reeling buzz of a grasshopper warbler.

Always look for surprises like the gull
on the right in this photo.

A  male cuckoo gave us a fly-past, its long tail and shallow wing beats make it's silhouette unique but it was calling as it flew so no-one could mistake it for a hawk or a falcon.  It perched high on a tree above me and i managed to get a sound recording of it.

The bird everyone wanted to hear this year was a nightingale. After almost losing them last year we were hoping for a better turn-out this summer. The northern team, working near Stirtloe heard at least five and we heard at least two at the southern end, although they were not in full song. I suppose the biggest surprise was to hear the purring of three turtle doves across the site. Let's hope they stay.

As final proof that summer is nearly here we saw our first swift of the year.

Like almost every enterprise on the reserve, this project would be impossible without a dedicated army of volunteers. Thank you all very much.