Warixenjalka
Birdwitcher
At last year one hunter shoot mountain biker in National park in Finland. The hunter said he thought it was a Capercailie.
Oh dear, a couple of years ago a Swiss hunter invited to hunt in France managed to shoot dead some donkeys in a field, mistaking them for Roe Deer, you couldn’t make it up. The hunter who accidentally shot dead the lady out walking last weekend is not surprisingly suffering from shock, she is only 17 years old (yes, you can be old enough to go hunting with a gun but not to vote or buy alcohol hereAt last year one hunter shoot mountain biker in National park in Finland. The hunter said he thought it was a Capercailie.
Awesome, cra(c)king birds!22 March A Crake’s Progress, or going off the Rails
We finally made it to England on 3 March for an 11 day tour around, seeing the family over there for the first time since 2019. My sister has had the good sense to move to the Kent coast, just 5 minutes’ drive from Dungeness which meant I was able to do my first seawatch for about 15 years. Thanks to a sharp-eyed Jacob Spinks from Yorkshire and an old Selsey regular seawatcher Martin Casemore ( see his: Ploddingbirder.blogspot.com ) I reacquainted myself with such exotic species (well, if seen in the Alps ) as Common Scoter, Razorbill, Guillemot, Gannet, Kittiwake and Fulmar, the highlight was seeing flock after flock of Brent Geese moving up channel.
Back home I was surprised to note no change in the birds present around the plot, more song than at the start of March but it was a few days before anything seemed to be on the move, a Skylark flyover was a rarity for Manigod at least and Black Redstart and Blackcap finally reappeared after their winter holidays on 20th and 23rd respectively. A pair of Bullfinch have been adding some colour to the garden too.
Reports from the south of France of newly arriving migrants encouraged me to go over to the Rhône at Seyssel again on 22nd to see what I might find, 8 Penduline Tit had been seen the previous day but I wanted to look for more skulking targets. I was on site before 8am and found 4 Little Ringed Plover and a Green Sandpiper on a sand bank where the Fier joins the Rhône. Parking up just downstream as on my last visit I immediately heard my first Blackcap and Chiffchaff songs of the spring here and the Cetti’s Warbler were in fine voice. Walking slowly alongside the reed lined channel and stopping to scan the base of the reeds where there was fortunately some exposed mud I quickly found one, and soon after a second Water Rail and to my delight I could see a couple of Garganey further upriver. Setting up the ‘scope opposite the Garganey I eventually worked out that there were five, a pair doing a bit of head bobbing display, plus three more males. The telescope proved invaluable as I found an immobile Common Snipe and then, bingo, a cracking male Little Crake on the reed edge well across the now much wider expanse of water. I looked away for a moment as I heard footsteps passing behind me on the footpath, a chap with an enormous camera lens and tiny binoculars had just passed without stopping to talk so I called him back to share the Little Crake with him. As I tried to refind it a Spotted Crake appeared just to the right of the Little Crake’s previous position! Despite me getting the Spotted and then the Little in the ‘scope for him, the poor guy seemed to struggle using it never managed to see either of them, the rising water level didn’t help as the muddy margins were now submerged meaning the crakes and rails were much harder to pick out. We walked around the more wooded part of the site plus the reed mace area but the Penduline Tits were not there, when I’ve seen them in spring at this location they have more often been feeding on willow buds rather than in the reeds. After parting company with my unlucky new friend I went back to the ‘Crake spot’ and started scanning again. The Little Crake reappeared, climbed onto a beached tree trunk and flew a good 25m across to another part of the reedbed (see action shot!). Hearing footsteps behind me I saw my photographer pal heading back up the track, once again without stopping to chat (“there’s nowt so rum as folk” as my Great Uncle Harry from Barnsley used to say). My ‘manageable’ sized camera and lens was a bit out of its depth with the distances so apologies for the crake pics attached, but you can use your imagination. I finished off with my first Black Kite of the year, skirmishing with a local Common Buzzard.