What’s going on with the weather lately? On Friday, I was working in Sheffield and later drove my daughter home from Leeds, where she’d been working. During the journey, I was chatting with Kev @kev07713 about where we might go birding on Saturday. More bands of rain were rolling through, with heavy downpours forecast, so we considered whether we should even bother heading out at all - perhaps we'd take the weekend off? Eventually, we settled on making a trip to Eyebrook Reservoir to try our luck at finding the American wigeon reported there recently. We agreed to delay setting off until first light so we could gauge the weather, and after a quick WhatsApp exchange, we were on the road by 8.30am.
When we arrived, it was still raining, so we scanned the water from the Stoke Dry End, staying in the car and wiping the inside of the door as the rain blew in. From there, we watched a variety of gulls: black-headed, common, and lesser black-backed - along with lapwings gathered on the spit. We then spotted one golden plover, followed shortly by two more. On the distant hillside, three hares, a few pheasants, and two greylag geese were visible, and perched in a tree by the water’s edge were two rather bedraggled red kites. The reservoir held plenty of ducks, and we noted tufted ducks, wigeon, teal, great crested grebes, and coot, with seven pintails flying overhead.
As we made our way along the perimeter road, we encountered another birder coming from the opposite direction. He told us the American wigeon had just been reported on Rare Bird Alert (RBA) near “The Island”, a well-known spot for scarce visitors and where the bird was seen the day before - nothing on BirdGuides though. With the bird having moved around the reservoir recently, no area could be ruled out. We headed to "The Island" and scanned toward The Point and along the shoreline and bay to "Sam’s Dyke" but saw nothing unusual, other than a couple of Egyptian geese. Thinking it might be in “Mucky Bay” on the far side of the island, we began moving in that direction. We were joined by the birder we’d spoken to and another who had arrived from the other direction. Both were puzzled about who had reported the sighting, as they believed they’d been the only people on site for over an hour and a half. We scanned "Mucky Bay" but found only the same species as before, along with two drake red-crested pochards and a single female.
I kept scanning the area while Kev doubled back along the road. The other two birders headed in the opposite direction, giving us coverage along the shoreline. After a good twenty minutes, I checked BirdGuides and saw that the American wigeon had been reported further along the road toward "Sam’s Dyke", the direction the other two had gone; perhaps they’d located it. I called Kev to say I was heading that way, and he said he'd follow.
When I caught up with the two birders, they confirmed they hadn’t posted the sighting and were again puzzled about who had. The location on BirdGuides also differed from the earlier RBA report, suggesting it hadn’t simply been copied across. We began scanning the area.
We picked out a bird on the bank with a noticeably different head pattern, although it was only clear when the light caught it just right - a broad cream crown and cheek, crossed by a sweeping green stripe through the eye. It stood out, but viewing it in such poor light was challenging, even through the scope. Further down the shoreline was a larger group of ducks with numerous wigeon, but they were too distant, and the conditions made it impossible to work through them properly, even with our scopes.
We continued to track the bird as it moved along the shoreline feeding with other wigeon, until the entire group was flushed onto the water by an unseen adversary. We hoped the bird might be our target, but Kev was never convinced - it was a strange individual - the full detail only became clear when I could brighten the photos at home.
The two species readily hybridise, and wild hybrids between American and Eurasian wigeon have been recorded. Some hybrids approximate “American-type” more than “Eurasian-type”; others lean toward Eurasian - studies of 21 hybrid males showed 11 different appearance variants. Because of all this, many of the “American Wigeon” reported in the UK or Europe may in fact be hybrids (or misidentified Eurasian wigeon) rather than pure American wigeon - especially if away from known migration hotspots. Because of the wide variation between hybrids, no single trait is definitive - a combination of features is often used to reach a tentative ID.
What we do know is that from photographs from Alan Boddington (here) and Toby Carter (here) there had been a postive American wigeon sighting on previous days, and this doesn't appear to be the same individual. A great white egret stalked the close shoreline.
We continued our search but didn't find any sign of the bird photographed earlier in the week. As I write this it appears that the wigeon wasn't recorded at all on Sunday.
The weather began to close in, and a mist rolled toward us, making viewing increasingly difficult. We soon packed up and started our journey home, with a stop at Wildlife BCN Summer Leys - it would have been rude not to. The sun had broken through but was already sinking low in the sky, so we decided to just visit the Pioneer Hide, nearest to the car park - the hide was empty and we saw a sparrowhawk being mobbed by a crow over the car park.
The water level had risen considerably since our last visit, and the scrape was now completely submerged, leaving no islands for waders to feed. Most of the birds were on the main water body, except for a few coot, tufted ducks, and moorhens. Several rabbits frolicked along the far shore, to the right of the double-decker (Paul Britten) hide.
I settled at the window, gazing out over the scrape and beyond, while Kev scanned the main water body. At a distance, I spotted a large brown bird; through the binoculars, I could make out it was a bittern. I called Kev over just as the bird dropped into the reeds. Ten minutes later, I caught sight of a cream-crowned marsh harrier, though Kev didn’t manage to see it. He joined me at the window, thinking he’d heard a kingfisher, but despite our efforts, we couldn’t locate it. Shortly after, a water rail called nearby; this time it was me who missed it, and it vanished into the dense reeds before I could get a view.
Flocks of golden plover and lapwings then took to the sky. The lapwings eventually settled on the island edges over the far reeds, while the golden plover circled for a while, formed into a “V,” and departed. There was no obvious cause for their disturbance although a little later, a male sparrowhawk flew through, and a kestrel was seen feeding to the left.
As the light began to fade, a starling murmuration started to take shape, though it was modest in size. It did, however, catch the attention of the marsh harrier, which reappeared, soon followed by a peregrine. The two raptors clearly weren’t pleased with each other’s presence; after a few stoops and aerial dives, the peregrine departed to the right.
To the right of our hide, on the water's edge, the water rail appeared very briefly but immediately scampered off and out of sight. It was now past sunset - a few birders/toggers had joined us in the hide and we all departed with little light left to see the birds never mind take a photograph.
Year list: 248.
No comments:
Post a Comment