Baikal Teal? No Way... Tour report 7-9 January 2022
Somerset Birdwatching Holidays
Tour report 7-9 January 2022
Tour leaders: Graeme Mitchell and Brett Westwood
Friday 7th January 2022
At 2.00pm we were not going to let driving rain and sleet dampen our spirits as we headed off to Tealham and Tadham moor for an introduction to the birds of the Somerset Levels.
Through the fogged and rain-streaked bus windows which produced a fairground hall of mirrors effect, we had trouble distinguishing which distorted white shapes were mute swans and which were egrets. A brief stop and scan of the flooded fields revealed many mute swans, two great white egrets and a little egret that showed off its yellowy/green feet - as someone once described looking like it had just walked through a bowl of custard! There were some Canada geese, although sadly the tundra bean goose that had lately been hanging around this area was not to be seen. A nice song thrush and a pair of stonechats added a bit of colour to a grey afternoon. A somewhat bedraggled buzzard was perched at Jack’s Drove, halfway down the moor, and it actually had stopped raining by the time we stopped at the Glastonbury Road at the end of Tadham moor to view a blizzard of cattle egrets which rose up from a sheep field and settled, Persil-white and rain-washed perhaps, in a grassy pasture ahead. Our best count was 191 birds, but some had flown off when we started to count, so perhaps there were over 200 birds in this area – this is probably the largest flock of these birds in the country. A lone lapwing and some pheasants joined the hunched egrets.
Just as we arrived at the car park at RSPB Ham Wall, we bumped into the One Show’s resident naturalist, Mike Dilger, who passed on some pearls of local knowledge. As the skies were clearing, we decided to walk into the neighbouring nature reserve of Shapwick Heath, where we saw our first (of many) marsh harriers, and a good collection of wildfowl – shoveler, wigeon, gadwall and tufted duck. We were also sound bombed by a burst of song from a Cetti’s warbler hidden as always in a nearby reedbed.
Walking back into Ham Wall, we saw a couple of over-wintering chiffchaffs close to the footpath en-route to the first viewing platform. From the platform there was a great variety of birds to enjoy including many lapwings, great white egrets, little egret, a single grey heron, great crested grebe, tufted duck, pochard, and a mass of shovelers feeding together in a tight rotating pack. These ducks were herding together small free-swimming water creatures such as water-fleas(daphnia) which they strain through the grooves on the sides of their flanged bills. Coots were constantly harassed by gadwall for the weed that they dive for in a now acknowledged symbiotic interaction. All the time there was likely to be a patrolling marsh harrier or two drifting languidly over the reedbeds.
Unbelievably (or brilliant planning on Graeme’s part!) the weather continued to clear into perfect conditions for a starling murmuration as the first birds started to arrive at 10 past 4.
Gradually and steadily the numbers of birds grew and grew into biblical numbers and liquid shapes - perhaps the largest numbers we have witnessed so far this winter (possibly up to half a million birds?). By 4.30 the show was over, and night fell (as did the temperature).
Sadly, no barn owls were spotted on the way back to Walls Farm.
In the evening Kay prepared a delightful supper and a most convivial evening was enjoyed by all.
Saturday 8th January 2022
Our party was increased for the day by two of Graeme’s friends, Peter and Chris, who certainly did not bring better weather!
There was no denying it, the weather was grim, and the forecast for the day was not much better. Damp welcome signboards greeted us at the almost empty Steart Marshes car park, but our party was well equipped and upbeat, and the weather meant that we had the luxurious hides to ourselves. From the shelter of the Quantock Hide we scanned the lagoons which were packed with lapwings and ducks, mainly wigeon, teal, shoveler and shelduck. After some scrutiny,we located a group of smaller dunlins, and a sprinkling of golden plover among the masses of lapwings. The shallow lagoons were home to a few avocets, which scythed their thin, upswept bills through the shallow water, adding glamour to the grey morning.
At one point all the birds took to the air, in what birders call a “dread” which usually means a raptor is nearby, though on this occasion we could not locate one. We continued through the deepening puddles to the Mendip hide which overlooks the ‘breach drain’ from the River Parrett. Usually this is a pretty birdless area, but we were met with a fine hunting female marsh harrier, several little egrets and a large group of lapwings. One or two Reed Buntings and Meadow Pipits flew around, and a small Linnet party twittered overhead.
On the walk back to the van several of the party saw a couple of moorhens and a brief glimpse of the back end of an elusive water rail which dashed across a reed-fringed ditch.
The rain had eased a tad, so we were able to enjoy a warming coffee at the tailgate of ‘Thunderbird 1’ while possibly the same marsh harrier and the appearance of a peregrine once again put all the birds in the area up in a flap. Brett was distracted by a hardy, or maybe foolhardy queen buff-tailed bumblebee flying in the carpark.
In a rather steamed-up van and car, we retraced our journey back on to the Levels, and as we pulled into the normally quiet RSPB Greylake, we guessed something was afoot as the car park was completely rammed to overflowing. We quickly realised that the Baikal teal which had turned up just before new year on December 29 must have been spotted again and a major ‘twitch’ was in progress. The hide was crammed full of birders and bristling with telescopes all trained onto a distant vagrant Baikal in the middle of a flock of a couple of thousand common teal. Once you had tracked it down, it did have a distinctive vertical white stripe on its breast/flank making it quite different to the surrounding drake teal which have horizontal lines on their flanks. Without help from the hard-core twitchers, we would have struggled to see this great rarity, but several of them were kind and accommodating to us, offering us a view through their scopes all trained on the unsuspecting (and mostly dozing) duck. There have been fewer than ten wild Baikal teal recorded in the UK, though they do occasionally escape from wildfowl collections. Stable isotope analysis of feathers of a bird in Denmark a few years ago showed that these far eastern ducks which breed in eastern Siberia and winter mainly in South Korea, are capable of getting to western Europe under their own steam, sometimes in flocks of “carrier” species such as Teal or Wigeon. The flighty behaviour of this bird and its associations with huge flocks of wild teal makes for strong credentials for acceptance as a genuine vagrant and it seems likely to be accepted by the “ten rare men”, the British Birds Rarities Committee.
Well, that was an exciting bonus to our trip, and perhaps the first proper ‘twitch’ for most of the party.
Rather appropriately we then repaired to The Duck pub in Burtle for a celebratory lunch.
The rain was driving heavily once more when we visited Somerset Wildlife Trust’s Catcott Lows nature reserve, but our rewards for braving the monsoon conditions were several pairs of beautiful pintail duck in addition to many other species that we were now familiar with, in addition to another hunting marsh harrier. Glastonbury Tor appeared and disappeared in and out of the rain clouds that marched across the 8 miles of the Avalon Marshes.
Would you believe that when we arrived back at Ham Wall car park the rain had stopped, and the clouds were now clearing? We walked right down to the Avalon Hide where starling heads and wings betrayed the activities of a roosting barn owl…not at home on our visit. Here was the full Ham Wall experience, of chocolate and gunmetal grey marsh harriers floating over a sea of pale reeds, every shade or rust, sepia and umber visible on this perfect late winter afternoon. Among this kaleidoscope of browns, we picked out gadwall, a pair of perky stonechats and a very well camouflaged snipe before the first starlings arrived at 4.20. Waves and waves of birds came in overhead in a kaleidoscope of wonderful shapes and patterns. Once the fly-past was over, we could hear what sounded like a waterfall as we approached the main viewing platform where it became apparent that all the starlings had gone down into the reed beds at this point and were settling in for the night, chattering away as they finally spread themselves across what is known as ‘Waltons’ reedbeds. At one point an unending aerial river of starlings meandered over the main track, and it was very hard to tear ourselves away.
Our group had spread out on the way back to the van so not everyone heard the unusual ‘blackcap-like’ call from an unidentified bird at the edge of the marsh (which Brett confirmed isn’t the right habitat for over-wintering blackcaps). Brett later explained that this mystery bird had a slightly muffled ‘tac tac’ call, with an almost tooth-sucking quality to it (or was that toe-sucking quality?). Certainly, this kept us all amused in the van on the way back to Walls Farm. Could it really have been a dusky warbler? Why not? Several have been recorded in the UK over the last few years and two or three are wintering at the moment. One of these dark brown chiffchaff-like warblers was seen at Ham Wall in 2015, so it is possible. And who would question Brett Westwood? except perhaps Brett himself. However, the Rarities Committee might need a bit more convincing than a few calls heard against the babble of a myriad starlings
A nice tawny owl was seen from the front of the van, however once again there were no barn owls.
Kay again excelled herself with a delicious supper and much fun was had around the dining table exchanging stories of birds seen and birds not seen.
Sunday 9th January 2022
At 8.55, just before our guest’s assembly time, Brett and Graeme were minding their own business (probably discussing the merits of the tick-tac, tock call of a dusky warbler, or the complete lack of dunnocks in Somerset…) when a male peregrine falcon shot past the driveway gates, very low and very fast, perhaps trying to knock off an unwary wood pigeon further up Stoughton Road. This was deemed a good start to the day.
Our last morning was to be down at the Parrett estuary, starting at a very breezy Sloway Bridge over the Huntspill River - not actually a natural river, but was built as a reservoir for a wartime munitions factory nearby – clearly not much creativity went into the design process for the Huntspill River as it stretches some three miles inland in a dead straight line, like that of an Olympic rowing lane. We quickly managed to see our target birds of kingfisher and goosander (several), with a pair of ravens cronking overhead. Going on down to the sluice at the Parrett estuary itself there were flocks of redwings with a splattering of fieldfares in the fields and hedges and another pair of ravens. Fortunately, we were able to get out of the worst of the wind and had another quick glimpse of the blue flash of a kingfisher and several more goosanders (both male and female).
Tide was rising up the Parrett from Bridgwater Bay bringing many of the waders and wildfowl upstream. Redshanks, teal and wigeon were close by, huddled against the wind in the lee of the mud-cliffs: a single curlew probed nearby. On the grassy foreshore was a large group of grazing shelducks joined by seven brent geese (dark bellied) along with a few Canada geese. On the river itself and mainly on the Steart peninsula side were distant flocks of dunlin, more redshank and several avocets. Herring, black-headed and a handful of common gulls battled against the strong wind as did a lone whimbrel with its distinctive fluting call – this bird was once called the “seven-whistler” by our ancestors who heard it as it migrated north on spring nights. This gave rise to the old folk tale about the six birds of fate -if a seventh joined them, then the world would end. Fortunately, this very early bird, probably brought north on recent warm southerly winds, didn’t bring about doom and destruction but delighted us with its unseasonal appearance: a handful do winter in the UK each year, but they are hard to find.
Greenfinches and a pair of bullfinches enjoyed the shelter of a woodland copse (as we did!) as we returned to the van for a welcome coffee and chocolate.
A quick final stop was made at a very busy and now sunny Cheddar Reservoir where we saw our first grey wagtail of the trip, fliting about a shallow stream and a first and distant great black-backed gull. A song thrush fed at the sunny base of pine copse, recalling the thrush we’d seen on our first soggy outing at Tealham and making a fine top- and- tail to our most enjoyable trip.
Baikal Teak, back row, third from the left (lol)