Hello Molly

Today was another tale of potterage in search of acquiescent Cetti's interspersed with a few recently arrived migrants and one stonking patch rare (possibly only the second for the reserve, cue sharp intake of breath).

The less-than-red-letter birds included: 20+ Cettis, a similar number of Reed Warbler, 8 Sedge Warbler, 2 Whitethroat, 4 Swallow and a LRP. However, whilst wandering along the northern edge of Reedbed 8, I couldn't help but notice Wood Warbler song drifting across from the Uskmouth grasslands, took a while to nail it (top tip: a parabolic mic sure helps in pin-pointing distant phylloscs) but, after a few minutes, it briefly flitted about in the top of a Hawthorn hedge circa 200 yards away - patch tick, and a bright yellow and Persil white one to boot. Luckily, after a circumnavigation of the easternmost reedbeds, I bumped into it again along the 'green lane' (about 50 yards from where the Redstart had been on Saturday), and it sounded a bit like this (note Cetti's background vocal)...



PS. Stumbled over a great new way of suggesting dog-walkers put their mutts on leads whilst on the reserve, a simple five-step method: 1. when being approached by unencumbered canines keep your ears open and see if you can't work out the dog's name (it is usually being shouted at high volume in an effort to recall the dog as the owners know full well they are meant to be on leads); 2. wander up to the dog in a jovial/approachable fashion; 3. on meeting the dog, crouch down and whilst fussing the pooch say, in a voice clearly audible to the owners, "Hello [enter name here], hate to ask mate but where the [enter expletive of choice ('hell' on a good day, something else on a bad day)] is your lead?"; 4. maintain eye contact with the dog, try to look as if you are expecting a reply (do not acknowledge the owner's presence in any way, shape or form); 5. remain 'conversing' with the dog whilst the owner retrieves their pet and leaves wondering why all birders are borderline psychotics.

Pretty kookie

Another day with one's nose at the Cetti's grindstone. Didn't last as long as planned mind, it is hard to get recordings of even the noisiest passerine when the grockometer is red-lining due to, amongst everything else, such bizarre happenings as: a. two middle-aged couples discussing the awarding of yellow cards for flatulence (I kid you not, I looked it up on my return, see here); and b. an entire family jogging/shuffling along the sea-wall (dad,... son,... mum [in hijab as opposed to a track suit!?],... daughter,... sulky daughter,... sulky son), I'm still not kidding by the way, no weblink though, you'll just have to trust me on this one.

Whilst pottering around, bumped into a vociferous male Redstart, 2 Whitethroats, at least 6 Reed Warblers and 2 Sedge Warblers. Other 'notables' included the return of the mixed singing Willow Warbler plus my first Green-veined Whites and Speckled Woods of the year (still haven't had a Brimstone as yet though).

Surprisingly little

A very quiet morning down at the wetlands; nothing of note beyond a couple of LRPs and 8 White Wagtails at Goldcliff. The end.

Micro-fall!

This mornings pea-souper produced a dose of Willow Warbler: 20+ at Uskmouth (mostly in the bushes along the sea-wall) and another half dozen or so at Saltmarsh Lane. Also had my first Sedgie of the year, 10 days earlier but in the same place (just behind the shelter belt) as last year. The only other 'notables' were a few Wheatear and hirundines plus Marsh Harrier and Short-eared Owl. The Blackcaps and Chiffs are well and truly 'in' with 5 of the former and 16 of the latter doing this...

Dem birds done gone

Two reports of Gwent megas in two days and it's already too much excitement for the local fraternity. The Honey Buzzard appears to be getting a right old bricking from the shadowy figures inhabiting the gloomy sewer that is the Gwentglamcestershire corner of the interweb. Just for a change, I think this record is probably getting a harsher than deserved response. Yes, it is bleeding early for a Honey Buzzard and no, there isn't a photo, but the facts are: at least one of the observers isn't a numpty; the bird in question showed reasonably well; and the decription I have heard is not that bad. I'm not saying it was definitely a Honey Buzzard, but I would argue it is one for the committee as opposed to one for people that can't even dream up a good pseudonym.

Anyway the chase, to which I will now cut, is that neither of the reported beasties could be bothered to hang around, so we are all in the same sinking boat - stood here like so many botty-burps on the breeze in a cold, birdless, shitey corner of the UK without two rarities to rub together. But don't despair! The camaraderie of this band of birding brothers will see us through! Failing that, I find standing on the sea-wall and gazing longingly into the distance helps,... *sob*.

PS. How many early migrants are around this year?! How ironic would it be if the teensy-weensy brained birds are reacting to global warming quicker than the frontal cortex laden Homo sapiens. Oh, how I will laugh.

The post-industrial wilds

Visited a couple of the less than picturesque Gwentish sites today. The pseudo-martian landscape of Red Pools produced 3 Goldeneye, 2 Blackcap, 10 Chiffchaff and a Cetti's Warbler plus 1 Comma and 2 Peacock flutterbys (also had Orange-tip alongside the nearby Solutia Reserve). The lovely rolling acres of Llanwern Steelworks produced 1 Swallow, 1 Wheatear, 8 Cetti's Warbler and 4 Chiffchaff plus another Comma, 4 more Peacocks and 4 Small Tortoiseshells.

Is anything as redolent of the untamed landscape as wild geese? Probably not.

Birding vs. cricket

A morning touring the eastern levels produced very little apart from singing Willow Warbler and Blackcap at Magor Marsh. An afternoon listening to England capitulating in the cricket was an even less judicious use of my precious time. Given the way Gayle has started, I don't think I'll be wasting too much of my evening on the wireless broadcast from Barbados.

My first Willow Warbler of the year, showing like a wrong 'un.

Psychological operations

As the battle of the back garden enters its fifth year I am wheeling out a new weapon which I am hoping will deliver a decisive blow to the feline-squirrel axis. The squirty-bottle barrage has proven to have only a limited impact and katyusha-esque volleys of tennis balls have resulted in very few hits and nothing like a knock out blow. But now I'm predicting a seismic shift in the balance of power as we move to a completely new level of tactical psychological warfare, the enemies morale will be crushed, it will all be over by Christmas. There will be no hiding place, nothing can withstand the might of... the Power Megaphone (with pistol grip).


The first salvo went something like this...

*crackle*

You cat! Come out from under the privet, your creepy-creepy across the lawny-lawny won't work now.

*squeal of feedback*

Yes, you can act all nonchalant but your time of unhindered Greenfinchery is over, no longer will untrammelled Blue Tittery occur on this corner of some foreign (well Welsh) field. Now it is you who will live under constant harassment, your every step will be announced to the world, you have nothing to look forward to but guttering, choking, drowning ridicule [long drawn out bout of evil laughter].

*crackle*

Oh, hi Darren,... ...Yep, got it for Christmas, it's taken me this long to get batteries... ...Oh, just talking to your cat,... ...No, not much doing,... ...Uh-huh,... OK,... See-ya.

*crackle*

A wand'ring milvus I

The highlight of an afternoon potter round the pools was a second calendar-year Red Kite drifting west at about 14:30. Other predators, periodically upsetting the waterfowl, included the 1st-winter Marsh Harrier and a very obliging Short-eared Owl (that is, very obliging for those who weren't totally oblivious to the fact that it was parading around the third platform, see here). The best of the waders included a ruff and long-staying Greenshank and Spotted Redshank; and the only half-decent passerine migrants were 1 Wheatear, 2-3 Chiffchaff and 20+ Sand Martins.

The afternoon was devoid of LRP, Garganey, Swallow, Nanki-Poos and Yum-Yums,... gutted.

A plea to whoever you are

Given the raison d'être of the RSPB at the Newport Wetlands appears to be to attract screaming hordes of the ornithologically retarded, is it not somewhat remiss of them to then take as gospel the patently arse-gravyesque reports generated by the aforementioned duffers? I had a quick look at the RSPB website this evening and, as anticipated here, it is already adorned with two lovely gobbits of duff gen; not bad going, given that only three sightings updates have been posted so far.

Just a quick plea to the lucky bunny who gets to update the Newport Wetlands sightings page on the RSPB interweb site - if someone reports something flipping unlikely why not either: a. put it out as "an unconfirmed report of [add species name here]" (i.e. birders' code for "some numpty misidentified something as [add species name here]"); or b. check it out before putting it out. At least try developing a healthy cynicism (feel free to stop short of the rampant, vitriolic [probably quite unhealthy] cynicism I revel in) toward incredibly early records of migrants and reports of regularly strung ducks.

Today's ornithologically elitist post lacking any shred of empathy for the crapulous non-birding masses was brought to you by the letters 'G' and 'X' and the number '5'.