Rising tide

A favourite place for birdwatching in winter is Foreness in good light with a rising tide - the last of the chalk rocks are slowly covered, bringing the waders closer to the shore before they are forced to fly off to a high-tide roost.
In the lovely weather this week the rocks seem like a distant tropical archipelago (I bet Thanet hasn't been called that before).

This group - Turnstones, Purple Sandpipers and an Oystercatcher - seem to be unconcerned by the rising water.
It seems that the Purple Sandpipers are always the last to leave, as the final rock is inundated. For the record, we counted 9 (or maybe 10) in total.

Why.....?

...is that Parakeet sitting on that branch while people walk by near him? Is he displaying? He is a fine specimen, with his ring round his neck.
Ah, that's why.....he has a mate.
It's his job to look out for trouble, while she.......


....digs out the nest-hole, sawdust spraying everywhere. And he continues to sit there, because he's on a promise.

A Walk in the Woods

A walk in the silent winter woods. A knarled old pollard conjours up thoughts of elves and wizards, surrounded by dead wood and decay.


But already new life is emerging - primroses will soon be flowering, and wild arum shoots (or Lord and Ladies) are spearing through the leaf litter.
We didn't see or hear many (any in fact) birds during the walk, but that may have been because we had a child with us, who was a bit loud:
I told her not to climb that tree - it's rotten.

Back at the rifle range, the Black Redstart is still there,
and on the sea a Guillemot showed off its face to the right....
...and to the left.
Or maybe it was two of them, the former in winter plumage and the latter for some reason in summer plumage.

Guillibills and Razormots

A feature of the last few windy days has been the large number of auks flying south into the wind (or in the case of one pair today, flying north just to be contrary). Plenty have also been seen on the sea, fishing, loafing, and occasionally being attacked by Herring Gulls.
The vast majority are unidentifable at a distance, and almost all that are nearer are Guillemots like the ones above.













I was pleased to have a relatively close view of a Razorbill, spending more time under water than on it.
Its puffin-like bill was easy to see.
On an associated matter, are the words bill and beak synonymous? Apparently not quite: the word bill is derived from the Old English bile meaning flat sword, and therefore is more relevant to Razorbills and Puffins (and ducks if turned sideways) than the pointy ones of, say, robins, oystercatchers and guillemots.





Presumably the different beaks are adapted to different methods of catching fish - if I come back as an auk (could be worse) I'd prefer to be a guillemot, as I'm not sure I could cope with a bill like that.

Winter sunshine

A few patches of Sweet Violets were found on the cliff top today, blinking in the winter sunlight.
Otherwise most of the vegetation is brown, blasted by the colds winds, but Carline Thistles (although a bit beige) retain their style throughout.
Greenery is provided by that invasive immigrant, the Winter Heliotrope, which seems particularly extensive this year, shutting out the light from native plants.

Looking across to the village, a pattern of environmental protection can be seen, as wide field margins have been left for wildlife....

... while in the old Scout Camp, a flock of sheep is helping to keep the grass down, their baas always surprising me as farm livestock is rare in the village.

Coal Tit / Black-capped Chickadee

One of the pleasures of this winter has been the regular attendance of a male Coal Tit, who seems to appreciate my crushed peanuts*. He calls loudly when he's about to approach the feeder, about every 20 minutes through the day. Another (female?) occasionally accompanies him.
Coincidentally, the New Brunswick blogger posted a similar photo today, of a Black-Capped Chickadee (parus atricapillus according to my Peterson), so called after the chickadee-dee-dee call. The European Coal Tit (parus ater) looks and sounds quite similar, which begs many Darwinian questions**.

* To crush nuts, use a rolling pin (which scatters the pieces around the kitchen to the benefit of any passing mice), or in the coffee grinder (which prevents scatter, but runs the risk of angering the wife if seen).

** On reflection, the Chickadee is more similar to the European Willow and Marsh Tits while the Coal Tit is now in a different genus - Periparus, while the Black-Capped Chickadee is in Poecile (which also includes Willow and Marsh Tits) . The winter evenings just fly by.

Marsh Tit, copyright Warren of Hadlow

Owl and Buntings

I passed the owl stump to see if the Little Owl was there - at first sight, unlucky!


But looking closer......Then to Sandwich Bay to see the long-staying Lapland Buntings. There was a female feeding a little way down the track....
...but on cue a male arrived at a nearer pile of grain and settled, within about 5 yards of me in my warm car. Its summer plumage is starting to appear, with a warm rusty neck, and it showed off its ring, newly fitted by the Observatory.
After a spell in the cold wind, checking to see what the gales had brought in (more auks and Great Crested Grebes), that was a pleasant bit of birding. This weekend will probably be the last opportunity to walk along the sea wall, as the fencing is nearly complete.