First Swifts, Garden Warblers at Wraysbury

Mare and Foal
Mare and Foal

OK, it’s official, spring has arrived. It may be freezing in the North wind, snow may be forecast, but … this year’s foals look lovely, relaxing with their mothers in the sunshine.

Overhead, the first three Swifts of the year wheeled against the blue sky; a couple of Buzzards drifted past, one mobbed by a pair of Carrion Crows; a Kestrel hovered, moved on, hovered again.

Down below, Wraysbury’s Lakes are empty of ducks, the winter visitors long returned up to the far North. The bushes, however, are rapidly filling up with warblers. Chiffchaffs, Blackcaps, and for the first time this year, masses of Whitethroats (there must have been at least a dozen, wheezing out their scratchy little songs) displayed atop still bare thorn-bushes, one male even venturing a little song flight. Several Sedge Warblers chirruped, whistled and churred their complicated but not very harmonious song — avant-garde jazz with Ute Lemper, perhaps — and to my great pleasure a Garden Warbler gave out its marvellously rich, full, even, sustained warble from a dense Hawthorn. So it was a five warbler walk.

The prettiest bird of the day, however, was a male Linnet. After months of being drab and scruffy, he was in full breeding plumage, his head gray, his back brown, his tail crisply forked, and the band across his breast redder than a Robin’s orange, really startlingly red. Most of the time I think Lars Svensson’s marvellously detailed Collins Bird Guide is exaggerating in those too-beautiful colour plates by Killian Mullarney and Dan Zetterström — but its painting of a breeding male Linnet is exactly true. Red. So there.

Freshwater Clam at Wraysbury
Freshwater Clam at Wraysbury

While off the beaten track listening to the warblers, I found this 13cm long Freshwater Clam shell. It was considerably thinner than a marine clam, and handsomely greenish-brown. I had no idea there were such large ones here right by London. It looks very much like the Swan Mussel, Anodonta cygnea, given its size, and indicates that the water “is in tip top condition”. The Natural History Museum has seen a specimen 19cm long.

 

 

Roe Deer at Fray’s Farm Meadows SSSI

Frays River
Frays River

Well, it isn’t every day one visits 3 nature reserves, but today I had a look at Hillingdon NHS’s Harefield Place LNR, London Wildlife Trust’s Frays Farm Meadows SSSI, and Denham Lock Wood to boot.

These are by London standards remarkably secluded and inaccessible, which is to say you need to know where to park and which way to walk, as there’s basically no indication on the ground until you arrive, and even the LWT website is misleading.

Whatever the reason, it’s a delight on a fine spring day to find woods alive with Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps, a pair of Greater Spotted Woodpeckers calling and chittering with excitement directly overhead (and visible  in the still nearly-leafless trees), the Blackthorn in delicate white clouds of new blossom, and a Roe Deer skipping away across the meadow, stotting slightly and flashing its “I’ve seen you, I’m running away, and I’m faster than you so don’t bother” white rump-patch. It’s what zoologists call an honest signal, something that benefits both predator and prey. The predator is saved a wasted chase, and the prey gets away without hassle to live another day.

Canada Geese overhead
Canada Geese overhead

I walked in on the Golf Course path, a pleasant trek down the hill, past the lakes and along the muddy track through the willow woods. There are only our resident wildfowl at this time of year – Canada Geese, Egyptian Geese, Coot, Moorhen, Mallard, Tufted Duck, Mute Swan, Great Crested Grebe: presumably all breeding right here.

The track was studded with deer slots, and it was nice to have my “Roe Deer” slot identification confirmed with a broad-daylight sighting. Out of the woods, it grew hot, and I discarded coat and pullover.

An early Peacock butterfly
An early Peacock butterfly

A few butterflies flitted about – Brimstone near the brambles, a Meadow Brown or two, several Peacock.

and a Vole Patrol poster
and a Vole Patrol poster

I met another LWT volunteer, Daniel, who it turned out was not only checking the local boardwalks, but had got up at 5:30 am to do the Vole Patrol on his local patch here! I said I volunteered at Gunnersbury Triangle, and he said he knew who I was, he read my blog (Hi Daniel!). We talked of Kingfishers and conservation and being bitten by small mammals. He asked me which group I particularly liked, birds, butterflies? I said dragonflies, but it was a bit early for them. Sure enough, a minute later, a damselfly flew past! I got my binoculars on to it but had no chance to identify it to species (Large Red is our earliest, but I saw no colour). Still, a distinct surprise so early in the year. Perhaps they are hatching earlier with the warmer climate.

On the way out, I passed a Vole Patrol poster. Huma, the small mammal expert in charge of the project, really can’t be getting a lot of sleep travelling all over West London like this and trapping every day.

I walked across to Denham Lock, an attractively rustic spot with a line of narrowboats, traditional wooden lock gates and a delightful lock-keeper’s cottage complete with teashop.

Denham Lock
Denham Lock

A pair of Grey Wagtails flew about as if they owned the place, landing in the trees beside the canal, a few steps from where I took the photo. They must be breeding here too.

 

Spring Surprises: Treecreeper, First Swallows, Ground-Nesting Heron

Ground-Nesting Heron a la Swan
Ground-Nesting Heron a la Swan

Spring is full of surprises, and this Heron, nesting not in a colony up in the trees, but all alone in an abandoned Swan’s nest in a reedbed, is certainly one of them. The London Wetland Centre this morning also boasted a mass of Blackcaps in the “Wildside” woodland, with at least three males and a female actually in sight at once,  along with an obliging Chiffchaff giving me an excellent view, and a characteristically invisible Cetti’s Warbler, shouting out its amazingly loud call. The Silver Birches were in wonderfully fresh green leaf, their bark crisply white against the clear blue of the sky.

Red-Breasted Geese
Red-Breasted Geese
Birch in Fresh Green Leaf
“Birches in wonderfully fresh green leaf”

Yesterday, round at Wraysbury Lakes, the same set of three warblers sang, but more elusively. The most delightful surprise was a Treecreeper, not only creeping up the willow branches, but singing its sweetly plaintive little song. This used to be rendered, rather tweely, as “Tree, tree, tree, once more I come to thee”, which does capture the length and rhythm of the song. It is not unlike the Chaffinch’s song, if you know that, but without the twiddly “tissy-cheeooo” ending, and not so firm and harsh. One of the Blackcaps, in the thorn-scrub area, had a fine mimetic song. Out on Horse Hill, the first two Swallows of the year flitted overhead, a solitary Kestrel beat its way against the wind, and half a dozen Jackdaws played and chased in the air, for all the world like a gang of naughty schoolboys.

March Winds, April Showers

Carrying a branch after the storm
Carrying a branch after the storm

The ‘March Winds’ part of the old proverb came startlingly true on the night of the 27th of March, when two fine big Birch trees blew down, leaving a sad gap. We will perhaps build a wicker dead-hedge and plant a live Hawthorn hedge (to be laid) at the edge of the area, and might even plant some saplings, we’ll see.

Meanwhile, there were branches to be cleared – this one snapped from a Willow just coming into leaf and catkins – and I popped it onto the pile blocking an unwanted path at the end of the picnic meadow. Laura was so surprised to see me “carrying a tree” that I had to pose for the photo.

Seven-Spot Ladybird
Seven-Spot Ladybird

Spring is however arriving, the first Blackcap on the reserve starting to sing on 3 April.

Among the newly-visible insects are Brimstone and Comma butterflies, Seven-Spot Ladybirds, plenty of bumblebees and early hoverflies (that’s a species), and a few Bee-flies (bee mimics) hovering as they drink nectar.

The male Sparrowhawk, too, flew over as we worked.