The Desert and the Snow

One of the highlights of living on this corner of East Kent is that it sometimes plays host to interesting or unusual birds, particularly during the passage seasons of spring and autumn. Occasionally you might even get two such visitors in the same week, as happened recently with one rare bird and one not quite so rare (though no less charming). And better yet, neither of them were camera-shy.

The first was a Desert Wheatear (above) which spent several days foraging for insects on and around Joss Bay. On the day I went to see it, it was frequenting the edge of the cauliflower field overlooking the bay.

The all-black tail pattern (as compared to the T-shaped pattern of the more common Wheatear) is one of its main distinguishing features, but it can be difficult to see unless the bird is in flight (as shown below).

A few days after the Desert Wheatear departed, a Snow Bunting turned up on the stretch of coast between Dumpton Gap and Louisa Bay. Unlike the Desert Wheatear, Snow Buntings are annual winter visitors to the Kent coastline, though I usually have to go out to Reculver to see them.

This little bird was even more confiding than the Desert Wheatear, and not at all fazed by the people walking past and the array of lenses pointing at it. I had to back away from it several times just to keep it in focus.

Whereas the Desert Wheatear was feeding on insects, the Snow Bunting was foraging for seeds, using its beak to break open the husks.

Will we receive any more visitors before the end of the year? It has been a long time since I saw a Shore Lark, and a Lapland Bunting would be very welcome...

See also:

Birds of East Kent: Snow Bunting

More of my Desert Wheatear Photos on Flickr

More of my Snow Bunting Photos on Flickr

A Very Photogenic Comet

"Comets are like cats: they have tails, and they do precisely what they want." - David H. Levy

I must admit, when I first heard that comet C/2020 F3 (NEOWISE) was on course to reach naked-eye visibility, my initial reaction was one of mild scepticism. After all, similar predictions had been made about comet C/2019 Y4 ATLAS (which promptly disintegrated) and comet C/2020 F8 SWAN (which also fizzled out). However, NEOWISE didn't just live up to expectations, it surpassed them - becoming certainly the best comet I've seen since Hyakutake and Hale-Bopp, the two Great Comets of the 90s.

Bright though it is however, NEOWISE (named after the space telescope that discovered it) is by no means a Great Comet like those two. Nor is it the first significant comet of the digital age (that honour must go to the spectacular Comet C/2006 P1 McNaught), but - due to its favourable placing for observers in the northern hemisphere - it's likely to become the most photographed comet in history (at least until the next bright one comes along). This is the fifth comet I've pointed a camera at, and it's easily the most photogenic, even if it did require me to leave the house at some very unsociable hours.

Comet NEOWISE should remain visible for the rest of the month, although it will - barring outbursts - become progressively fainter. At time of writing NEOWISE can be found in the late evening sky below Ursa Major (see the links at the end of this post for finder charts). You don't need a telescope to spot it; if your sky is dark enough it should be visible to the naked eye, and a modest pair of binoculars will give a really good view.

You don't necessarily need a long lens either if you want to try and photograph it (the image at the top of this post was taken with a standard 50mm prime). However, you will need a tripod and some means of operating the shutter without touching the camera (either a timer delay or a cable release). As I was shooting at a high ISO I also stacked multiple images and subtracted dark frames to further improve the signal-to-noise ratio. Here's another one taken at 400mm, showing the characteristic golden dust tail:

It's worth making the effort to see Comet NEOWISE at least once before it's gone; after all, it won't return to the inner solar system for nearly 7,000 years.

Links:
How to see Comet NEOWISE over the coming nights (Sky at Night Magazine)
Comet NEOWISE dazzles at dusk (Sky & Telescope)

2019 in Pictures

A very wet (and unseasonably cold) autumn put a bit of a dampener on 2019, but otherwise it was another good year for photos, with a few surprises along the way...

January
An old favourite to begin - a Stonechat at North Foreland:

February
A long overdue return visit to Bossenden to see some woodland birds, including this Coal Tit:

And a Nuthatch:

March
A Guillemot (not a penguin) stretching its wings at Ramsgate:

No mistaking this Yellowhammer at Dover:

April
More wing-spreading, this time courtesy of a Tufted Duck at Stodmarsh:

 

May
A Pied Crow (of all things) on Broadstairs jetty:

June
+ 1 Peregrine, -1 pigeon:

I'd like to tell you I spent hours patiently waiting for a glimpse of this elusive Purple Heron, but it emerged from the reeds only a few minutes after I entered the hide. After catching a couple of fish it flew off - apparently never to be seen again. Sometimes (but only sometimes) I'm in the right place at the right time.

July
The month in which winged insects take centre-stage, while the birds enjoy a well-earned break.
This is the first shot of a Banded Demoiselle I've managed where the wings weren't completely closed:

 

August
X marks the Dragonfly spot:

September
A Snipe at Stodmarsh, photographed from the Reedbed Hide:

This very charming Grey Phalarope at Birchington was another first for me in 2019. I took a Friday off work to see it (and lucky I did because it was gone by Saturday).

October
An shot looking over the cliff at the Kingsgate Sanderling roost:

November
This might well be the second-most photographed bird in England (after that Cuckoo at Thursley Common), but I never get tired of seeing a Kingfisher:

December
And finally, the obligatory Kestrel, seen here flying off with a tasty meal:

All the photos on this page were taken with a Canon 80D DSLR and my trusty Tele Vue-60 refractor  - that's right, no autofocus.

Pied Crow Tour of Britain reaches Broadstairs

When I first heard about a Pied Crow being sighted in East Kent I assumed it was some kind of birders' in-joke. After all, what is a "pied crow" if not the definition of a magpie? Also, there's no such bird mentioned in either the Collins Guide or the British Birds (WILDguides) book, not even in the once-in-a-lifetime lists of obscurities tucked away at the back.

But it turns out the Pied Crow is definitely not a magpie, as I found out when I caught up with it on Broadstairs jetty last Saturday (18 May). Even from a distance the white "vest" was obvious, and the bird itself is bigger than a conventional carrion crow (though not as large as a raven).

So is this smartly-dressed corvid (normally a resident of sub-Saharan Africa) a genuine wild specimen or an escapee? I won't get into the speculation on where it might have come from as there's already plenty of that online by people far more knowledgeable than me on such matters, but I will refer you to this excellent article by Sam Viles on BirdGuides. Will it fly (or hitch a ride) across the Channel or will it continue its tour of Britain's seaside resorts? Like the outcome of B****t, your guess is as good as mine.

Next stop France?

As I think I've stated before on this blog, I don't keep a count of the birds I've seen and photographed (although I do keep an index), so it makes little difference to me whether or not it gets accepted onto an official list by the powers-that-be. But I do know that this unusual and striking bird has traveled a long way to get to where I live, so I'm glad I got to see it.

See also:
Birdguides: Pied Crow
Birdforum Opus: Pied Crow

2018 in Pictures

I didn't think I'd be able to top the previous year, but 2018 served up a bumper crop of sightings (September in particular had enough highlights to fill a best-of list all by itself). But here for your viewing pleasure, after much vacillating, are the pick of the bunch:

January
There's nothing like a Waxwing to brighten up a dull winter's day:

February
I've got to include at least one Kestrel (it's the Law) and this bird was a bit special:

March
Why go to the trouble of catching your own frog when you can steal one from a Marsh Harrier?

April
The light wasn't great that morning, but it's not every day that a Cuckoo pops up right in front of you:

May
Here's something else you don't see every day, a Mole out in the open:

...though it really wasn't the best day for small furry things to come out of hiding.

Also at Stodmarsh, a Hobby grabs an in-flight snack:

June
At Foreness Housemartins collect mud for their nests:

 

And a Stoat pops up at Stodmarsh:

July
A typically quiet month for birds, but not for dragonflies such as this Norfolk Hawker:

 

August
Last ones to arrive; first ones to leave. A Swift prepares for its autumn migration at North Foreland:

September
1st September at Grove Ferry was one of those rare and remarkable days where everything falls into place. It included Spotted Flycatchers and a Bullfinch (in the same tree), a Whinchat, and even a surprise Bittern. But it was the reserve's star attraction that stole the show:

Return visits later in the month uncovered a Small Copper butterfly (the first one I can recall seeing at the reserve), plenty of Willow Emerald damselflies, Lizards, and this juvenile Green Woodpecker:

 

October
Winter birds start arriving along the coast, including this handsome Brambling at North Foreland:

 

November
Not the best photo, but arguably the best bird of the year; Scott Haughie's White-billed Diver (in summer plumage!) which attracted birders and photographers from across the country:

 

I expect I'll be frowned on in some quarters for including it, but this ESCAPED Hoopoe brought some entertainment (unless you're a grub) to an unlikely part of Thanet:

December
Another month, another loon; a Red-throated Diver (not in summer plumage) in Ramsgate Harbour:

All the photos on this page were taken with a Canon 80D DSLR and the trusty Tele Vue-60 refractor.

In the next post, I will be returning to outer space.

Birds of East Kent: Kestrel

Latest in an occasional series of posts discussing the different birds that can be found in East Kent and how easy (or not) it is to get a decent picture of them.

I don't usually bother with top-ten lists or stuff like that, but if I had to choose a favourite bird it would undoubtedly be the Kestrel. It's not the biggest (or smallest) bird of prey; nor is it the most colourful. It's not even the only British bird that hovers, though the other contenders can't hope to match its precision or its tenacity. But, more than any other bird, it's always been a small part of my life in some shape or form. It was there on the striking red badge I received when I joined the YOC:

It was there in Ken Loach's famous film (adapted from the novel by Barry Hines) that I saw in my early teens. And it was there at the start and end of the summer holidays, glimpsed from the side window of a car; a bird that seemed to defy not just gravity but time itself as it hovered above the roadside verges while the twentieth century flowed around it.

I've had the privilege of seeing a wild kestrel up close on a couple of occasions, most recently in February of this year when I encountered one perched in a small tree by the North Foreland golf course. I took some photos and continued on to Botany Bay to see if there was anything interesting on the shore. When I turned around to walk back I was surprised to see the same kestrel standing on a fence post. Naturally, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take some more photos:

From badges to films to poetry (see: The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins) there is something about the kestrel that seems ingrained in the British psyche. A good example of this can be found in Powell and Pressburger's 1944 wartime classic A Canterbury Tale. In the film's prologue, a group of medieval pilgrims make their way towards Canterbury while a voiceover narrates a passage from Chaucer's text. A falconer stops to release a kestrel into the sky. The bird dips and soars ... and transforms into a Spitfire flying above the English countryside. Four hundred years of history spanned in a single cut.

If the description of that scene rings a bell it's because Stanley Kubrick used the same trick in the famous bone-to-spacecraft transition in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Coincidence, homage or blatant rip-off? It's a question that's been debated for fifty years, and will probably be debated for fifty more. In the meantime, the kestrel continues to soar above fields, along cliff-tops, and across marshes - hovering, observing, sometimes descending for prey, and then moving on, seeing colours that no human eye can see as it patiently constructs its daily map of the world.

Effortlessly at height hangs his still eye.
His wings hold all creation in a weightless quiet,
Steady as a hallucination in the streaming air. 

Ted Hughes, The Hawk in the Rain (1957)

See also:
More of my Kestrel photos on Flickr
Kestrel (RSPB)
Kestrel (Birdforum)
Kestrel (Birdguides)

2017 in Pictures

I normally leave end-of-year round-ups to the more prolific bloggers, but this year I've taken a lot more photos that usual, partly because I bought a new camera, and also to serve as a welcome distraction from the daily hourly news maelstrom generated by Brexit and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Retweeted. It's reassuring to know that there are still some quiet corners of the world where wagtails still wag, kingfishers still fish, and kestrels still hover, unconcerned by the sound and fury of angry old men who never stop to listen.

But enough of all that; here are some highlights.

January
Photographers often rhapsodise about the "golden hour" just before sunset, and it doesn't get much more golden than this:

February
A Water Rail breaks from cover at Grove Ferry:

March
This colourful Pheasant took it upon himself to greet visitors to the Stodmarsh car park:

 

April
A smart Shelduck flies overhead at North Foreland:

May
A dull and drizzly May Day at Grove Ferry was livened up by this magnificent Kingfisher (one dive, one fish caught, one lucky photographer):

Later in the month, a decent view (for a change) of a Cuckoo:

June
The dragonflies at Grove Ferry / Stodmarsh attracted lots of visitors, including this dashing Red-footed Falcon:

July
Fortunately there were still plenty of dragonflies left after the Red-footed Falcon departed, including this Norfolk Hawker (aka the Green-eyed Hawker):

August
Lots to see in North Yorkshire, including Red Grouse:

...and the famous Gannets of Bempton Cliffs:

Back in Kent, a relative newcomer to Grove Ferry, a Willow Emerald Damselfly:

September
Some drastic Photoshopping saved this image from the bin. The Marsh Harrier changed direction so suddenly I cut off half of the upper wing and had to clone it from the other one. I wouldn't normally do this much work to an image, but I think in this case it was worth it:

October
Fortunately my reflexes were a little better when this Kestrel made a quick getaway:

November
After seeing a Red-throated Diver in 2014 and a Great Northern Diver in 2015, I wondered how many years I'd have to wait to see a Black-throated Diver in Ramsgate Harbour. Turns out it was only two:

December
Another new visitor to Ramsgate Harbour, an Iceland Gull:

The year started with a Little Egret against a golden backdrop, so it seems fitting to end it with its larger cousin, a Great White Egret, looking for fish in front of the golden reeds of Grove Ferry:

No autofocus was used in the making of these pictures.