A year ago I signed up to take part in the Wetland Bird Survey. Over the course of last winter I completed monthly counts of waders and wetland birds at a site on the Somerset Levels.
The survey is undertaken on specified dates, and last weekend I did my October count. I had hoped that the good weather would continue over the weekend, but it was not to be. Wellies and waterproofs were a must!
Scanning the fields at my first viewpoint, it quickly became evident that there were none of the lapwings and golden plovers that will be present in the winter. However, as I made my way around the site several species were present on the various drains, rhynes and ditches.
Mute swans, variously on the water or banks, were gathered in pairs or small groups – 38 in all. Cormorants were scattered in ones and twos, perched on gates and bridge parapets. There is also a tree which they favour. Why this particular one, I don’t know, but often there will be seven or more amongst its branches. On this occasion there were just a pair. Every so often mallards, in twos and threes, would fly over head. From a nearby field, a lone snipe launched itself skyward, zig-zagging as it called.
While walking along a drove track my eye was drawn to birds in flight above me. Strung out in a ragged line were my first flock of lapwings, just 13, followed soon after by a flock of 23. In another part of the site I saw a flock of 42. It is early days yet and numbers will hopefully increase in the winter – last year I was counting them in the low 1000s. The historical records for the site show that less than a decade ago lapwings were being counted at over 10,000.
As I worked my way around the site, other species made a show. A couple of teal here, a coot there. A grey heron, wings arched, flying ponderously. The dashing flight of a kingfisher – always a delight to see.
While scanning a section of a rhyne, I spotted three birds on the water some way off. They dived repeatedly, and at that distance I could just make out one black, two brown. I couldn’t think of what they were immediately, although I had the nagging feeling that I ought to be able to. The colouring was familiar. It would probably come to me later.
I watched as a great white egret stalked along the margins of a drain. Extending its neck, it leaned out and stabbed at the water. With much exaggerated gulping and shaking of the head, it swallowed its prey and resumed its task. Shortly afterwards, I saw the egret fly off, being chased by a grey heron. Earlier on I had seen another in amongst some reeds, and that was also seen off by a grey heron.
The landscape here is not just about waders. I was walking one section and a flash of white up ahead caught my attention. It was a wheatear, hopping along the ground, then up it flew, landing on a nearby post. Two roe deer grazed on vegetation in a nearby field. In the scrub and bushes alongside the tracks there was a constant movement and calling from small birds – goldfinches, robins, tits, and reed buntings.
By the time I had completed the count I had seen 12 species in all. In terms of numbers, it was a slow morning compared to some of last winters’ counts, but a good chance to refresh my ID skills. Also, the discipline and purpose that doing the survey brings to birding is enjoyable. Besides which, the wetlands are a fascinating place to spend time. The landscape of the Somerset Levels has a unique beauty – even when it rains.
And those three diving birds? Tufted ducks.