500 Birds in 365 Days

Making Bird Watching Fun!

2013-05-04T13:37:00.001-07:00

Big Garden Bird Watch - RSPB

2013-01-27T11:51:00.003-08:00

The Big Garden Bird Watch is a great way to peek an insight into how the British Birds are fairing. All participants choose an area (e.g. garden, park or local place of natural interest) and for one hour over a selected weekend, count the most of each species seen at one time.
For this #BirdWatch, I made myself comfortable at my kitchen window, in my house in west London, at 3pm on the 27th of January 2013, and watched.
I counted:
2 Blackbirds
2 Blue Tits
1 Carrion Crow
1 Great Tit
3 House Sparrows
2 Long-tailed Tit
1 Magpie
1 Robin
3 Starlings
1 Woodpigeon

To make sure you on't count the same bird twice, you only count the most number of one species you see. So, I saw quite a few starlings, but I only saw a maximum of 3 at any one time. So three is my tally. I was hoping to see my dear Collard Dove and Blackcap, but they were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, they were elsewhere fed and counted. After the count, I registered my results with the RSPB. Register and login to the RSPB to keep up to date with the results and to find out when the next Big Garden Bird Watch is!

Happy Birding!
Love Beau~Jensen
xXx~oOo!

My Twitter: @BeauJensen
RSPB Main Twitter: @Natures_Voice

End of Year!

2012-02-02T14:30:00.000-08:00

So... that's it. One year and the number is in. I've meandered over moors and shuffled along the shores. I've hiked o'er hills, blacked my eye and got the chills. I've sat hunched in hides and trod the tides. Cantered from courtyard to copse, faced forests and dangered drops. Talked to Thrushes, Terns and Tits, I've ate in odd places and got the runs.

And I have loved every tweeting, talking, whistling, squaking minute of it!

I've spent the week Scraping together my uttering, unruly and incomprehensible field notes that lay in the 'I'll do it tomorrow' pile file and I came up with quite a nice number, over 400! Smashing. Very close to the ideal of the blog. But then, I went through the entire birding list and omitted the, far too, many doubles and (eek) triples. Which brought the total down to just 367. Then, of course, I took away all the 'enclosed' birds that I'd taken note of and added out of interest in sanctuaries and such. This brought me to 251. HALF WAY! Sweet. In fact, ONE OVER HALF WAY! Yet ho, for you toughies out there, if I take away the birds from 'roaming collections' (e.g. living a nearly wild life, but maybe fed and/or housed and were placed where they flit, skip or waddle) then my actual, bone fide, non-contestable (apart from one or two possible misidentifications - but hey, we're all friends here) grand total is... 208. Still chuffed.
I probably wont keep a list again and there were times that I felt that the list would get in the way of the joy, but that was the list and the year that was. And 208 was the number. And I tell you what, I couldn't be more proud. Not because I didn't achieve the impossible, but because of what this 208 represents. Not the list, this was never really about a list or a score or a total. It means so much more:
208 is the number that took me to see the beauty of the highlands for the first time.
208 is the number that introduced me to the darling Wincey Willis.
208 is the number that began with a much appreciated push by Stephen Fry.
208 is the number that expanded my love and knowledge of British birds farther in one year, than I had in all of mine.
208 is the number that showed me Britain. Every beautiful corner of it.
208 is the number that bought me close to someone very special, and showed just how much of my shenanigans he would put up with.
208 is the number that people gave their time, houses, cooking skills and support for.
208 is the number that made me more like minded friends this year than any parties and such.
And 208 is the number that will continue this blog. Listless, I shall continue to post posts about my birding and would love to hear about yours. Over the next few weeks, I'll share more photo's of my travels and, thereafter, shall proceed to bird.
Thank you all so much for your support this year. It has truly amazed me what people were willing to offer to, and to do for, a boy with a laptop and an awkward manner with his misbehaving binoculars. The warmth and readiness of, literally, 100's of people have made this a very special year in my life. You are all my 208.

Much love and smile always,
Beau~Jensen.
xXx~oOo!

p.s. Some of my favourite photo's of the year. Have a go at naming them all...

xXx~oOo!

From Kew to Richmond - a short Thames walk.

2012-01-27T07:58:00.000-08:00

The Thames has a number, a large one, of walks – and last weekend I went on one, with a definitive start middle and end.

But, on the other side of a rather chaotic morning (I built a fricken’ bed!!!), our start wasn’t as early as we had hoped. Well, it was early afternoon at least. My two favourite places in SOUTH London are Kew and the London Wetlands centre. And they are conveniently placed in the humps of a stretch of the Thames that I call ‘The Bactrian Walk’ (which makes me chuckle in a distastefully ego-manic way. So we got the District Line to Kew Station, took the short walk to the National Archives and started our belated walk.

The weather was fair to farty, but the mood far more relaxed from when I’ve been in the area before. In the past year I’ve visited Barnes WWT, Kew Gardens and Richmond Park, all on separate occasions and all for the benefit of this blog. Whilst I’ve enjoyed it immensely and it’s given me a reason to roam around, I know precisely why this visit was more relaxed. As this blog, as it is, is coming to an end. Before the blog, I was a birder who treated himself to days out and walks and enjoyed whatever the moment had to offer. This blog, by its sheer purpose, has made me into a temporary twitcher of sorts, which has put a tad of pressure on things. I’ve always recorded stuff and obsessively obsessed over the obsessable, but I fear there was a touch of the ‘mixing work with pleasure’ to it all with an added pinch of duty. Whilst I shant complain about what I’ve learnt this year, where I’ve been, what opportunities have opened up to me, the gorgeous people I have met and what I’ve seen... I can’t wait and shall be glad to get back to good ol’ birding (I’m sure I wont be able to shift the urge to write about it though, so stay tuned!) and no sodding list!

Anyhow, the walk was lovely. Avoiding bicyclists and dog walkers throwing – what seemed like - fallen trees for their pooches to fetch, the walk delivered lots to enjoy. Robins followed us along the route with Wood Pigeons and Crows keeping the canopy occupied, along with the odd squirrel. There was plenty of birdsong and the river proffered up many-a-mallard, moorhen, coot, Tufted Duck and the occasional Heron. All polished off by the intermittent but steady supply of cormorants taking the helicopter route.

I noted:

Blackbird

Magpie

Woodpigeon

Robin

Blue Tit

Carrion Crow

House Sparrow

Ring-necked parakeet

Starling

Chaffinch

Herring Gull

Cormorant

Heron

Cetti’s Warbler? With a flock of tits.

Blue Tit

Herring Gull

Greater Black-Backed Gull

Feral Pigeon

Mallard

Tufted Duck

Moorhen

Coot

Mute Swans

It was a relaxing, rewarding and sweet walk, but we had to cut it short as we were losing light (and I wanted to get rid of the bag of goodies for the charity shop, before it closed, that I’d been trogging around all day), so we made our way to Richmond centre, bought some chippy-chips and got the bus home.

We couldn't have walked mopre than a mile or so (on the actual walk 'walk'), but it was certainly a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon in winter.

I’m still putting together all my notes and such, and in this the last week of my 365 days of birding – I will be popping lots of information up.

Many thanks and my warmest regards,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

My Mandarin

2012-01-16T11:43:00.000-08:00

What’s your favourite colour? Favourite number? Drink? Season? Singer? Movie? Bahhhhhh! All questions I tend to squaff at, and I rarely squaff. I just find them odd questions. Why do I have to favour one over the others? Can I not like them all? They all have their good points. The variables are endless.

"What’s your favourite food?"

What? What, like now? For breakfast or supper? Summer or spring? Sweet or savory? Snack or meal? Hot or cold? Last meal or if I could only eat that one thing forever?

Granted, one may I argue that I over analyse things to the point of pain (argue away, as I will come up with ten intricate and compelling reasons why I do not over analyse), but if I don’t bore you enough for you to walk away, I just might come to a decision.

A question I’ve been asked a lot over the past year, clearly based on the nature of my blog, is: What is your favourite bird?

"Ummm… winter or summer bird? Native or foreign? Water or woodland?" Guffaw!

But, if you twist my arm behind my back, point a tommy to my temple, threaten me with the prospect of having to touch cotton wool and tell me that you’re about to mess up the order of my stone collection – then I just might be persuaded to say… “MANDARIN! My favourite bird is the Mandarin Duck. Gosh, that was all a little harsh!”

The Mandarin Duck (This fine photo I borrowed from Wikipedia)

I have mentioned before that I have some favourites, based on which best pleases me when I see them. Notably, Birds of Paradise, Flamingoes, Peacocks, Gouldian Finches, Starling and the gorgeous Wood Pigeon… but as you clearly are quite insistent on one answer, it would have to be the Mandarin Duck.

I was talking about this with ‘the boy’ not so long ago and I asked the annoying question, “Do you have a favourite bird?” he replied “Yes, Duck.” As quick as a flash.

“Oh, lovely.” I proffered, “Any particular one?”

He thought about this question for a moment. “Any really, but roast duck is my favourite.”

I wasn’t impressed, and he remains on the naughty step until this very moment.

But yes, the Mandarin Duck is MY FAV! And no one has put my feelings down better about the mandarin duck than my Grandad:

Come tell me,

Feathered Little friend.

Which great artist

Brushed your lines?

And for whom,

But your lady’s ardour?

Such beauty

‘tis By desire or design

My exquisite mandarin

As mentioned in the ‘Bunny Park’ previous blog, it was my Grandad who seeded my passion for all things fauna.

Whilst they are an invasive species in Britain, nominally having escaped from collections, there’s nothing quite like watching a Mandarin glide through the mist of a still lake during the tranquility of the crack of dawn. Bliss.

I’m quite fortunate in the fact the in the two places I spend a majority of my time, London and Norfolk, happen to be strong holds of Britain’s Mandarin Duck population – a population of an estimated 8000 strong.

It’s not only their incredibly over-zealously decorated plumage that, so obviously, helps them stand out – it’s also their behavior. Pairs are often committed to one-another and a drake will stand by and even assist the hen when it comes to bringing up the kids – whom the eggs of which are hatched in tree crevices, that makes for a comical and daring ‘fledge’ for the young ducklings. I’m yet to witness this fledging behavior for myself, but for a few clips in documentaries, but for now I am content with simply watching them majestically be majestic. Indeed, I have an entire file of photographs of the Mandarin, snapped each time I spy one. You cannot help but fall superficially in love with such a darling thing.

My Pair from Brent River

When in a collection of birds, the Mandarin, whilst seemingly regal and domineering, will often retire into the background. So I often avoid watching them in ponds in lakes full of stroppy swans and greedy geese, instead opting for a secluded, you-are-going-to-get-muddy, bank along the Brent River in Ealing. An odd site, with a little tree climbing involved, to get to – which I found when I was a child. Embarrassingly, I even defaced a tree which still reads “BJ woz ere 9T6’. Once you’ve negotiated the Nettles, the Buddleia, the Ash, the steep muddy bank and the odd tin can washed down from upstream, you’re there. With the inaudible muffle of the playing grounds faded away, you’re in my spot. Which I, GENEROUSLY, share with a couple of Mandarin Ducks (Donald and Daphne if you must know). Whose domain must be much larger than I can imagine, as they are only there around 50% of the time. Despite being secluded, they are still timid and take a little warming up each time to brave getting to about ten feet of me, never any closer. They will sit on the adjacent bank and preen, swim a little and often dip their heads in the water followed by a ‘Because I’m Worth It’ head shake. They will humour me by eating a smattering of my seed offered with an animated and speedy dabble, but never more than a few pieces. After about 15 minutes, they tire of me and, inappropriately, swan off. But, I love them all the same. So here lie a few reasons why the Mandarin Duck is my favourite bird. Well... my favourite duck, at least!

Not long now, at all, until my ‘500 birds in 365 Days’ comes to an end. I have a few more places to visit and a few notes to sort through, so stay tuned!

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

Ah, now I’ve had time to mull it over – I would have to say that vegetarian buffet’s are my favourite food. As so I can have a little bit of everything. There. I answered it. Didn’t take that long. Just don’t ask me what my star sign is, as I DO NOT HAVE ONE! I have two actually, being born on the July Cupse and all, but I shall still protest to being zodiacless!

How to Feed the Birds

2012-01-15T14:41:00.000-08:00

Hi!
Just a short video to show how simple and affordable it is to feed the birds. Something that may bring great pleasure to you. Not to mention, an important port of call to our feathered friends during the bleak winter.
Please do feel free to chat in the comments below!
Only a few weeks to go! Eek!

Much love and smile always,
Beau~Jensen
xXx~oOo!

Chelsea Bird

2012-01-05T16:54:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year.

One of a long list of resolutions of mine is to be a tad more organised and delegate the deserved amount of time to my commitments. That said, apologies for the silence and I shall get everything in order. I’ve got a few additions to add to the list, which I will be working on this week.

The most notable and exciting was a Slovenian Grebe I spotted on the Thames from a bar on Imperial Wharf in Chelsea. A colleague and I were on lunch when I hastily demanded she finish her hot chocolate and follow me down towards the water. Whilst trying to get a decent photo, we must of travelled 3 or 4 hundred metres down the way. The dear thing would dive and reappear a good 15 metres away from where he started, but not surfacing long enough for me to fiddle with zoom and focus. Guffaw. So this is my measly offering:

At least I got my pick, as I was most proud of this spot. Spotting a bird when one's birding is rewarding, but spotting one I wasn’t expecting to see whilst I was not bird watching at a time when additions to my list is getting most difficult – is glorious. So, I got my photo and my colleague got a burnt tongue.

I have one month left!!! Can you believe it! How fast the past 11 months have flown (*Chortling at my unexpected pun*).

Watch this space as posts will (hopefully) be coming thick and fast!

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

Regents park

2011-11-29T08:17:00.001-08:00

(A little tied up at moment. This was written a few weeks ago)

I’ve written about it before, and I shall write about it again; Regent’s Park truly is a wonderful place. For recreation, for socialising, for exercising, for taking in lunch, for relaxing and – of course – for bird watching. You’ll be treated any time you go. I go often and, in turn, am always treated and the past weekend was of no exception. The Gulls were out in force. The Black-headed Gulls – with their white winter heads – were making a fuss at any hand wealding a morsel, the lesser blacked backed gulls were trying to make an impression and a plethora of 1^st years were doing their best a taxing my identification skills. I had my new camera with me and was trying my dandest to snap the many dives and aqua take offs they were performing, but I’m afraid I am just as good with a camera as I am with binoculars when it comes to my subjects moving. I have asked and asked again and many have given their advice and lent a helping hand, but I just can’t seem to work binoculars as well as other people can. In one bipolar moment, which are few and far between, I even went as far to blame my asian eyes. Which, when naked, function perfectly at 20:20, better than most. But with an optical instrument...

I uttered “The viewers are round and my eyes are slanty, THAT’S THE PROBLEM.” Which, of course, is nonsense. But, Even when using the same pair – others can follow and focus with far greater accuracy than I feel possible. I truly hope this is just something that comes with time, I’ve certainly improved since February, just not as much as I wish to have (perhaps that says more about my patience than my ability). I always manage to see what I want to see... eventually.

The same goes with the camera – I can see what photograph I want to take, but when you through in zoom and movement, I lose perspective. I fear my restless and excitable hands may be too cumbersome for such delicate and intricate moments. I’m fine with a microscope, which is massively zoomed in and requires the slightest of slight adjustments, so perhaps my assumption was that I would take to it like a... duck to water (sorry), but no. Ho hum, I’m sure I’ll get the knack.

But anyway, this wasn’t going to be about my daftness, but the regal regents park. The number of geese have increased and the whooping swans were out in force.

The increase of geese can be put down to the autumn migration, but the swans may be part of the parks collection. I shall endeavour to find out!

This time of year is exciting for two reasons. Not only is it great as migration is in full swing. But my dear and darling water fowl are starting to don their winter plumage, in all of it’s glory! Many members of the Anatidae family moult into an ‘eclipse plumage’ during the, sexually inactive, summer months. They have no females to impress, therefore no territory to dominate, therefore no need for an attention grabbing guise. Those who submit to a less garish summer coat are favoured by natural selection as they are more camouflaged and less likely to be picked out by an opportunistic fox who might take advantage of the longer days. And those whose genes allow them to shine, and that they do, during the humping months are most likely to spread them.

Buffle heads, Red-crested pochards and mandarins are all proudly donning there finery, but belie there beauty by raucously squabbling over their patch and their women.

I’m into the final quarter of this search now and I am finding it increasingly harder to reach my targets (and, of course, ultimate target). I did notice, however, that some of the birds I have marked as ‘Collection’ or ‘Roaming’ on the list, I have since seen in the wild (e.g. Canada goose, Mandarin Duck, Golden Pheasant and Egyptian Goose – among a few others), so I will be deleting them from the list and adding them to the bottom with the relevant information.

With under three months to go, I hope to visit a few more places and hopefully reach a nice number – albeit far from the over-ambitious 500...

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

Birder or Twitcher?

2011-10-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

For me, this time of year is full of mixed emotions when it comes to watching birds. As we welcome home all our fall feathery friends, like redwings and fieldfares who have spent their summer in the north of Europe. We have to say goodbye for those seeking warmer climes. It’s sad enough that the days are getting shorter, but the thought of what we have left of the day lit skies not holding the satisfying sight of a swift skilfully somersaulting, makes me want o flick on the SAD lamp. So, being left ambiguous about the balance, you can be elated by the fact that you might just catch sight of a rare vagrant whose lost his way (and as regular readers of this blog will know, for me at least, losing ones way is quite easily done!!!) and get to observe a bird you have never observed before.

So, as I type this, I am enjoying an autumnal hour or two in the back garden, just before dusk, and enjoying a hot chocolate in a mug that needs two hands to lift, the colours, the peace and – of course – the birds. But something has changed. Not just the weather or the types of avian associates. It’s me.

As someone who has adored nature all my life, with ‘zoo’ being my first (conflicting) word, this year has changed my passion (but not irreversibly) for birds. Whilst I’ve always watched birds, I’ve done so for pleasure. But, as this task demanded, I jumped ship from Birder to Twitcher. This holds one definitive complication, one that I’m not criticising (each to their own), but one I’m not entirely comfortable with, that, as far as I’ve read and been told, changes not only the objective, but also the nature of one’s pastime.

As far as I can muster, the differences between them are loosely thus;

A ‘Bird Watcher’ is someone who watches birds out of interest in their locality or a set area. Perhaps in their back garden with a mug of hot chocolate in their hands.

A ‘Birder’ is someone who waits for and watches birds with a little more comprehension in more specific grounds, e.g. a bird reserve, with some binoculars in their hands.

A ‘Twitcher’ is someone who travels great lengths, at the drop of a hat, to chase a previously reported rarity to tick off of one's list with a notepad in their hands.

But as far as I’m concerned, the guidelines are blurred at best. I’ve always watched birds. I can’t help it. They’re lovely. And I suppose I crossed the line into ‘birding’ when my Grandpa would take me out from the age of about six to go and specifically watch birds, or to ‘Bird’ if you will. And then this year, being the first time I’ve kept a comprehensive list with an aim – though I’ve always kind of kept a journal of species and behaviour - I think I’ve become a ‘Twitcher’, of sorts, as I will occasionally go and see a rare bird that I have heard about. Although, when I was a ‘Birder’ (I trust you’re as fully confused as I am now) and heard about a bird ((Sayyyyy whaaaat?) or butterfly or bat or fungus for that matter) that’s a rarity and was within my reach and means of seeing, I would go.

But I still feel I fall on the ‘Birder’ side of the feeding table (If it, at all, matters), albeit with my list. To both those in and out of the know, ‘Twitchers’ may seem more interested in their ticked box, than in the bird whose name resides beside said box. And, from experience, they are competitive. Plus, there are a few who I’ve had the misfortune to come across who are so protective over their competition (a spade is a spade) that they become aggressive. I’ve received actual hate mail about this blog, as surprising as it seems, from people – who supposedly share my passions – that simply disparage and despise what I am doing. In the sense that I have set an unreasonable goal (something I am aware of) or for being naive or not knowing as much as others and need to be told off for it all. Shame. As all I wanted to do was share a diary of my journey, not step on any toes, and to give my journey a narrative and objective, I decided to keep a list. My list.

I’ve always refrained from joining a proper and official list table, despite the fact that I’m highly competitive (just spend one Christmas day with me playing Monopoly and I will suck the festive right out of your candy cane!), as ‘Twitching’, as it were, does not interest me. Even though I know that’s exactly what I’m doing this year, kind of. I don’t want to be better than anyone else, I simply want a record of what I’ve done.

But I suppose you’re always going to have those grumpy grumps in any walk of life and they are overshadowed by the number of incredibly helpful and delightful people I have met on the way. And nothing could possible poo poo on how much fun I am having going to so many lovely places and seeing what I do.

The difference, for some, of the terms ‘Bird Watcher’, ‘Birder’ and ‘Twitcher’ is highly guarded, it would seem. For me, they aren’t too dissimilar, as long as the birds are at the heart of it – after all, Footballers and Football fans are very different beasts who share one common love. Yes, this year, I have travelled great distances to see birds whilst ticking them of a list, but it is very much my love that drives me. This list is something that is structuring my birding this year, facilitates this blog and feeds my hunger for organisation. If I fail to see a desired specimen or, indeed, if I fail to reach the target of 500 (something that I have always known was and is still ebbing on the impossible) I will be without disappointment. I am enjoying this blog and where it is encouraging me to go. But the list will always sit second to my love for birds.

This evening (18/10/2011), I saw:

Blackbird x2

Magpie x3

Woodpigeon x2

Swift, what I fear is the last of the x10

Robin x1

Blue Tit x1

Carrion Crow x 5

House Sparrow x 5

Ring-necked parakeet circa 40

Starling x7

Chaffinch x1

Herring Gull x 7

Nothing new on the list. So the part of me that wishes to spot something that remains unchecked on the list, was not satisfied. But this is outweighed by the part of me just enjoying the birds that care to show.

Until next time,
much love and smile always -
Beau~Jensen.
xXx~oOo!

Cley Marshes

2011-10-11T15:10:00.000-07:00

15/08/2011. 8am. Weary from a weekend wedding, the boy and I made our way to Cley Next The Sea.

“It takes half an hour to get there.” I assured him, as he made it clear that he was not in the mood for one of my all day treks. Plus, I always find a wee bribe never falls on deaf ears: “We’ll get some chip-shop-chips by the seaside, yeah?”

Now, whilst I wasn’t knowingly fibbing, the former didn’t turn out to be exactly true. I have no idea what I was reading or what language it was in, at the time, that gave me that information - but it was completely wrong!

Mute Swan

Leaving our lovely B&B in Winterton (Burleigh House, Go there! The landlady, Jo, was lovely!), we went to Hemsby to say our farewells and were driven to Great Yarmouth by 9am with my Granparents, we all trained it in to Norwich where my grandparents’ train was delayed. We waited with them, taking in a small amount of hot chocolate which could be found under a mountain of whipped cream – despite saying “Eurgh, no!” when I was asked if I wanted some. Once their train arrived, ours came shortly after and we made the picturesque journey to Cromer. We circled around Cromer and headed towards the most likely looking area that would accommodate a bus station. We were wrong. But luckily, it was right next to it! I berated the town planners for a few moments for my thirty seconds of inconvenience, all the while being quite aware that I was simply covering up my appaling planning. Although, a pinch of common sense, a dash of luck and a generous helping of well informed locals have got us this far – so why change my ways now? Whilst waiting for a bus, deciding not to delay ourselves further by wandering off for chips, “We’ll get some later.” I proffered, a local took it upon herself to talk to us about spirituality and mentioned that a “...couple of young lads like you two want to be chasing a different sort of bird I suppose.” Completely missing the target on both counts, but we are always more than happy to have a chat with strangers about the local area. You learn lots from this. THE BEST ONES GIVE YOU SWEETS!

Little Egret

Meadow Pipit

The Bus journey was beautiful, but uneventful, and out of the corner of my eye I spied the odd twitch of the wrist as his watched was being checked. And then we got there. At 12:46. Oops. I bought lunch at the refectory, no chips, and fluttered my lashes in an attempt to tamper the judgment my judgement was receiving. Whilst I’m meticulous in planning (a case one may argue), unforeseen forces (you know, like time, space, geography and/or my attention span, for example ...) always seem to hamper things.

But anyway, anyway, anyway. We were here... Weren’t we? How do we get there? The reservations centre was on one side of the road, where we were, and the reservation was on the other. “So? Just cross the road.” Sarcastically and patronisingly said the voice in my head. But it seemed so wrong. We’ve just come in, paid, had lunch and now we have to leave... to enter? WITCHCRAFT! Even paradoxes leave me feeling odd when they arrive.

So, we left to enter. We walk a while. Slowly, we start to realise how amazing this place is. It was, by far, the most extraordinary place I have visited for this task. Sure, not as vast as Scotland, or as breathtaking as Hertfordshire, or as obvious as Bempton – but, extraordinary. After perusing the map and taking in 5 minutes in one of the hides, you knew this place was special. Within those special five minutes, I had already noted five birds I had yet to see this year (a feat that’s proving harder and harder) with the spoonbill being an exhilarating spot. Adding to the paradoxes, they were elegant, in clumsy manner. Exotic and homely. Busy, yet still.

Barn Swallow

The hide itself was of interest with the comings and goings of two barn swallows who would occasionally stop to pose for a photograph during taking mouthfuls of unfortunate insects to there brood – merely feet above ones head. Possibly testament to the fact that NWT Cley Marshes, purchased in 1926, is the oldest wildlife reserve in Britain was the how close everything was to the hide. Waders....

Upon leaving the hide, a Sedge Warbler posed proudly in some reeds – not 5 feet away. If you’ve read my other entries that involve Warblers, you’ll know the difficulty they give me when it comes to identification. I always have to resort to asking a nearby fellow birder or posting a photograph online. But this warbler, though I’m still not 100% comfortable with identifying them, sat readily to be analysed. Never have I been so close to a perched warbler. And I comfortably identified it as such (after confirmation from the nine year old who was snapping photo’s next to me.)

Sedge Warbler

It was not only the fact that there were numbers of species in a certain area, my joy came from the number of habitats in such close proximaty. All different. Scrub, marsh, saline lagoon, shingle beach, hedge row, meadow...

It was incredible. Well worth a visit, any time of year!

Despite losing ourselves, our bus timetable and achy feet told us it was time to go. All the way back to London. And despite having an hour stop of in Norwich – we never managed to get those chips.

Until next time,

much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

n.b. don't forget to check out the list and other photo's!!!

Cairnbaan and West Scotland

2011-09-05T14:04:00.000-07:00

(Continued…) Thoroughly exhausted from a very long – but wonderful – day at Bempton Cliffs, we made our way to Glasgow. Around 260 miles, making stop offs in Seamer as well as a sweet little visit to York. Upon arriving in Glasgow we, the increasingly obliging and sweet boy and I, plopperly found our hotel, immediately collapsed and got as much sleep as we could.

Swallow in Cairnbaan

Thursday 28th July: After a spot of shopping (which was great in Glasgow), we made our way to Glasgow Airport where we were being picked up by our friends Claire and Alex, and meeting Claire’s Mum Helen who had just flown in.

The journey to Cairnbaan was incredible. Awesome even. Whilst I’ve been to Scotland a lot, it’s always been to cities, so I had never seen such scenery. And photographs and video footage that I would have seen over the years did not do it justice – it did not even skim the surface. It was out of this world. Rolling green hills rolled, as they tend to do, out effortlessly – I didn’t even know my city eyes could see that far. The hills and mountains made our skyscrapers look like bungalows, and when I was at a point of significant height – I swear I could see the horizon curve.

Hooded Crow

We made several stops, including Loch Fyne and Inveraray. I was most pleased to see, as I would be throughout the trip, Hooded Crow and Oystercatcher. They lovingly littered the area like our Starlings and Pigeons of London. Well, ok… I suppose they’re’nt that numerous, but you would be very hard pressed to miss them!

One sad aspect was the amount of logging. Now, whilst I know it’s sustainable, it’s replanted and I am quite happy to use Scottish Pine – it’s still very sad to see. Especially on such a scale as I saw. Where I live, space is a commodity and one can walk for miles without once stepping on a blade of grass or be able to further oneself the distance between two Starbucks or MacDonalds' from a lampost. The awe I was in reminded me of when I visited Symonds Yat Rock a few months ago with the Dear Wincey Willis. My sense of scale was thrown. I would at once be able to grasp the enormity of an area, just for my understanding to be thwarted by a distant recognisable object (albeit a bird, a car or a person) and I would, therefore, have to size up what I’m looking at all over again and try to comprehend its (even greater, now) size. Just to be foiled for the nth time when a glider would, as they tend to do, glide IN FRONT of a mountain when one would bet a life that it would obviously disappear behind it.

Oyster Catcher

We arrived in Cairnbaan, where we would be staying for the next few days, which was picturesque and saturated in sunshine. Absolutely wonderful.

Our dear and excellent hosts had a gracious and jam-packed itinerary planned for us, therefore the main time I got to bird watch was very early in the morning. This suited me fine, as I am very much a morning person and, luckily, so are most birds.

Loch in Cairnbaan

Friday 29th. After planning to be up at the crack of dawn, I only managed to venture out - exhausted as I was - by the time dawn was ajar. Despite, to my standards, being in the middle of nowhere - there were plenty of people about. Dog walkers, service men, and more yachts with more flags on than one might feel comfortable with, squeezed onto the canal. I was later to learn that an international boat gala (or something, I really should pay more attention) was starting that weekend. So I tried to distance myself as far from this unexpected bustle as possible. I spotted a distant hill and made a b-line for it. And a wise decision it was.

View from Dunardry onto Cairnbaan

I came upon a lake, or a loch - more fittingly. The stillness and sheer blackness of the water drew you in. Only to be broken by the startling shimmer of a Kingfisher. The electric blue and burnt orange looked positively gaudy amongst it's surroundings. I froze momentarily and in a split second, I thought how wonderful it would be to see it feed. It was not to be. That very special moment was cut short by my clumsy attempts at a closer look. So I continued.

My fellow birder - Deja

My luck was both helped and hindered by my companion... my friends sweet flat coat retriever, Deja. Deja will investigate everything! Any flutter, flurry or feint disturbance. Which is masterful when flushing out an otherwise inconspicuous feathery friend, but a nightmare at trying to see what it is as it hurries away in a panick. One such occasion was brought about when some noise attracted Deja to a tree some 50 yards from me. In turn, a bird of prey flew westwards. Sadly, the thick canopy denied me a good enough view to make any firm identification on it. We trundled on.
It occured to me to turn around when I saw a sign post which informed me that Cairnbaan was now 4km in the opposite direction. Easy as it was to lose track of time in such a beautiful place, time demanded to be kept and I made my way back.

On the second morning in Cairnbaan, I paid a visit to my Kingfisher and after the brief few seconds we spent with one another, I headed in the oppostire direction - up Dunardry. A beautiful mountain. Now, others would call it, and many have corrected me, a hill. LIES! It is a mountain! A bloody big one. But trudging, which is what I do now as long gone are the days that I was a soft footed dancer, up its slopes was a joy. Each turn showed something magnificent. A Crossbill, a dramatic view, stunning carpets of dewey ferns, roaring waterfalls, a Willow Warbler, all of which were well worth the tiring trek up.

Ben Nevis from a Distance

On the Saturday, we ventured off to Oban. I managed to spot a Shag from the coast, so we all eagerly boarded a boat to take a closer look. From the boat, we could see the peak of Ben Nevis, which was a welcomed addition to our sight seeing. We got a good close look at the Shags on some interspersed rocks, as well as some lazy seals and not so lazy salmon in a sad and far too small offshore farm.

Shag in Oban (careful!)

As we had so much to pack in, a day trip from Glasgow to the Cairngorms proved far too ambitious. So Capercallie, Scottish Crossbills and Crested Tits remain absent from my list. But, as with most trips, unexpected additions pop up when I'm not looking for them. As we drove from Cairnbaan back to Glasgow, but before we all said our goodbyes, through half asleep eyes - yet as clear as day - I spied a Red Grouse in a field. I smiled, and fell asleep.

Anemone at Skipness

After travelling around 1100 miles, I found myself at home once more. In need of another break. Since Scotland, I have visited many places - most of note being Cley Next The Sea - but have been positively stretched for time. So, please accept my apologies for the lack of posts - but be assured that I will get right on it!

Blenny in a rockpool at Skipness

Until next time, much love and smile always.

Beau

xXx~oOo!

Bempton Cliffs - Yorkshire

2011-08-04T13:25:00.000-07:00

After a stupidly early start, the boy and I set out on an equally stupid epic journey - traveling thousands of miles in just a few days. We started by traveling the 10 miles (16km) to Kings Cross and then stocked up on magazines and

nommies for the trip. Through bleary eyes, we made our way to platform ‘0’ (we didn’t understand that either) and made the trek of just short of 4 hours to Bempton Railway Station (approximately 230 miles – 370km). Laden with luggage for our week away, I was immediately reprimanded for my particularly poor judgement on the distance between Bempton Railway Station and the RSPB Reserve. Oops. A mile and a half later (about 2.5km), after walking along a road by a terribly smelly farm (I shall forever use the term, “It’s not as smelly as Bempton") made worse by the heat and – most likely – my mood, we reached the reserve. My proffering of “See, that wasn’t too bad” was met with cool silence and an icy, I-am-not-impressed, stare. I asked a kindly lady where we pay to get in and she informed us we only need to pay for parking. She was surprised to learn

that we had walked, something I quickly shoo-shooed over as to not wind up the boy any further, and rather sweetly she offered to take our bags from us whilst we were there. A welcomed and eagerly snapped up gesture. Upon entering the reserve and after a couple of exaggerated stretches, we soon forgot about the bothers and was greeted

with such a beautiful place.

First of all, I was impressed by the numbers of Tree Sparrows. It took a moment

to be impressed mind, as where I live we are blessed with the darty comings and

goings of around 40 House Sparrows, but once I noticed the differential grey cap was absent, I was most pleased to see so many of them.

Making our way down to the cliffs edge and… wow. Just wonderful. You could not turn for birds, and not 50m away back at the reserve centre, I did not hear or see any sign of them. Majestic Gannet’s rode the updraft and moved effortlessly all around. Kittiwake mingled in between and the cliffs were covered in their seemingly precariously placed and fragile nests. Each home to a calling chick. On a lower level to these were the much smaller – in mass, number and by the fact the they were much lower down – Puffins. Their unmistakable bill, silhouette and energetic flight, by comparison, contrast completely with all the other birds. I really wanted to see if I could spy beakfuls of sand eels, but my wee binoculars couldn’t quite manage it.

The reserve was very busy, and the pathways seemed restrictive – but at no point did we feel over-crowded. As we meandered towards Jubilee corner – taking in each designated, and a few spontaeneous, viewpoints along the way – I tried to explain how the Kittiwake (Rissa Tridactyla) came by its name. For a while, he couldn’t quite hear its onomatapoeic call. After I made a few clumsy attempts at mimicking the bird – he came to his own conclusion. He suredly poo-pooed the ‘kittee-wa-aaake’, and instead insisted they were wailing ‘Hattie Jacques’, with a few ‘Credit-Caard’s’ thrown in for good measure. We laughed about this for a while and were intermittently reminded why we were there when a Gannet would appear all of a sudden. As if from

no where. They would rise from beneath the edge of the cliff, riding the updrafts on a wingspan that nearly reached an awing 2 metres. This was eerily magical. At points, both the Gannets and Kittiwakes would float, motionless. Despite the metropolitan busyness, noise and overcrowding of all the birds, and the strong – yet luckily warm – sea breeze blustering facewards – the birds could effortlessly pause in a suspended animation – with no strings. 'Twas smashing.

Another pleasant surprise was the juvenile Gannets. Having never seen them before, and perplexed by the fact that photographs and depictions all exist in my reference books and I had clearly negated to notice. I was charmed by their appearance. They had mottled markings on their backs and wings. Haphazardly presented and no two the same. A far cry from the adults sleek and ‘near perfect’ looks.

Sadly, we only had a few hours there and once we had navigated around for about two and a half miles (4km) we had to walk back to the station to catch the train to Glasgow (via a few other places). So, we collected our bags, trudged down the smelly lane, took our time to appreciate how cute the actual village was, and watched the numerous House Martins' acrobatics as they took food to their nests - 3 of which could be seen on the Station House. We caught our train and continued our journey, just as I will continue writing about it next time…

Mileage so far: Approximately 250 Miles / 400 kilometres.

Notable Species:

Gannet

Kittiwake

Puffin

Sandwich Tern

Skylark

Linnet

Tree Sparrow

House Martin

Didn’t see any Guillemot or Razorbills, a little too late in the year.

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

The Birds of The Regent's Park

2011-07-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

It’s oh so often heard in the city that people long for the tranquility of the country. And quite rightly so. Massive skies, fresh air, lush greenery, peace. I love it. Everything about being in the countryadore - my particular penchant being for Oxford. From rambling, village life and mucking out the Alpacas on my friends

farm to climbing trees that I’m probably too old to. But when you think about it, there are so many places in cities, and for the sake of this blog – London, that you can match or at least get close to this.

ALL HAIL THE ROYAL PARKS!

There’s:

Hyde Park

Richmond Park

Kensington Gardens

Greenwich Park

St. James’ Park

Bushy park

Green park

Mais, my sanctuary, my haven, my oasis, my shangila – is Regents Park. 410 acres of loveliness.

Granted I don’t climb the trees or indeed muck anything out there, but it truly is a wonderful place.With the exception of a few loved ones houses – Regents Park is place in London where I love to be the most. A gem.

And I go all the time. A few times a week if I can manage it. For birding, you’d be hard pressed to find anywhere better in the area. It is an absolute hot-spot. Not only is it a plentiful environment in itself, it also serves as a green oasis for migrating birds and a hub for residential ones.

I follow a blog [click here], which I suggest you do too, written by Tony Duckett.

It’s a brilliant daily blog about the birds of The Regents Park. Not only is it a good read, but I use it to follow the comings and goings of some wonderful species. The information is flawless and priceless, and the photo’s are

incredible. A wonderful guide to the park’s birds. I’ve used the information and the map provided a few times to spot some things I might have never of had the foresight to. Notably, the Little Owl and Common Tern. Also, follow the links on the Blog and find their list. A massively incredible list of 210, especially when you consider that this is a small area in the middle of the biggest city in Europe. This is absolute testament to those who look after the area, their dedication and it’s inhabitants.

As mentioned, I have been there plenty of times this year, and will continue to go. For the meantime, here are a few lines about my time there on the 10^th of July 2011.

By a cordoned off section by the wetland pen, I cheerily watched a few Corn Bunting who seemed to be teasing the Jays. In the same area, Woodpeckers complacently fed from the ground – occasionally looking up in a panick, but as quick as they did they went back to hopping around the tufty grass.

Gosh, it’s so hard to write about the best bits – as I saw so much that day (as I do each day I go), but a thrilling sight was that of some energetic House Martins, swooping down, close to the waters surface on the boating lake catching midges and such. Another nice sight was a lone cormorant, basking on a post at the back of the lake. The Heron's are always a favourite of mine, and the Little Owls and the Kestrel family are always lovely things to spy. I shall of course, write a few more blogs on this park, especially come the autumn - where migrating birds use it at a pit stop.

On the 10^th of July, I saw over 60 species. I’m still sketchy on the warblers and I spotted a duck (too far away for my feeble camera to pick up) which I assume was a hybrid, but I fear I couldn’t even possibly begin to even hazard a guess as to what between. Also, I’ve added ‘bufflehead’ – I think it was a female Bufflehead, but again I am not 100% sure - so I will be going back to check.

Bahama Pintail	Little Owl
Bar-headed Goose	Long-tailed Tit
Blackbird	Magpie
Black-headed Gulls	Mallard
Bufflehead?	Mandarin Duck
Canada Goose	Meadow Pipit
Chaffinch	Mistle Thrush
Chiffchaff	Moorhen
Common Tern	Mute Swan
Coot	Pied Wagtail
Cormorant	Pochard
Corn Bunting	Red-breasted Goose
Crow	Red-crested Pochard
Egyptian Goose	Ringed Teal
European Robin	Ring-necked parakeet
Feral Pigeon	Robin
Goldfinch	Ross' Goose
Grebe	Rosybill
Green Woodpecker	Shelduck
Grey Heron	Shoveler
Greylag Goose	Smew
House Martin	Starling
House Sparrow	Stock dove
Jackdaw	Swift
Jay	Tufted duck
Kestrel	Warblers…
Lesser Black-backed Gull	Whooper Swan
Lesser Scaup	Wood Duck
Lesser Spotted Woodpecker	Woodpigeon
Lesser Whitethroat	Wren
Little Grebe

I am a very lucky boy, indeed, to live so close to such a smashing place.

Next week, I am off on a short tour of Scotland after a stop off at Bempton Cliffs.

So, I shall have lots to write about.

Until then, have a smashing weekend!

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

Photo's:

1) Feeding the Pigeons

2) Bar-headed Goose and chick

3) Red-billed Teal

4) Grey Heron

5) Kestrel

My Garden Birds

2011-07-04T11:51:00.000-07:00

Having an extension built has not seemed to have deterred some of my garden birds from doing what they do. If I softly pop aside my soft spot for the exotic for just a moment, I would have to say that garden birds are my favourite – and of course, luckily, that includes the darling Starling and the wonderful Woodpigeon – for whom I would not have to pop anyone aside, as they are firm favourites of mine.

That said, garden birds are simply that… birds of the garden. Any bird. Any garden. Your garden! They are the birds that live with us. So whether you inhabit the Cornish coast and are chuffed that the cough is a frequent visitor, or newly giddy at your New Guinean abode abiding those Superb Birds of Paradise parading wishingly upon your washing line or if you reside beside the seaside in south New Zealand and have King Penguins pop up a few times a century – garden birds are never quite, ultimately, universally taxonomically definable. But, in other ways, they are…

Of course, as we’ve covered, Garden Birds are those Aves that frequent your yard.

They are the birds whose song greets you at dawn, alerts you of a cats presence or sings the sun a lullaby.

They are the birds that share your immediate eco-system, that poo on your parked car and that eagerly dine at your bird table.

They are the birds that we see daily, that tell us the season and are the first birds we learn about as a child.

They are sometimes the birds that we see whilst washing up after dinner, that some people would travel hundred – even thousands – of miles to see.

And I love them.

They’re accessible and anyone can watch them from the comfort of their own home! This is why they are dear to me, and so many others.

So, this is the first of a few notes I shall write on my garden.

This Thursday, 30^th of June, within around an hour or so as I bothered my courgettes and impatiently wondered whether they were still too small to harvest (size isn’t everything), I managed to spot the following. And with the exception of the swift, they are here all year round.

Swift x 7

Crow circa 20

Jackdaw x 2

Magpie x 3

Woodpigeon x 2

Feral pigeon x 1

Stock dove x 2

Rock dove x 2

Greater Black-backed Gull circa 5 (One who I’ve named Terry. Distinctive as he is the size of a bloomin’ hang-glider!)

Chaffinch x 1

Goldfinch circa 5 – This is the first year I have ever seen them in the area, let alone my garden.

House Sparrow circa 20

Starling circa 40

Ring-necked Parakeet – circa 10

Tawny owl x 1 – whooo I hear all the time, but caught a glimpse of for the first time this week.

Blackbird x 3

Around 124 birds. Not bad for a built up and busy London suburb.

Tell me, what is your favourite feathery visitor to your garden?

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

Oxford - Summer

2011-06-07T11:47:00.001-07:00

Often, on the weekend, I retreat to my friends farm in Oxford. This past weekend, was quadruple the treat as not only did I get to bird watch and relax - the Alpaca’s where due for their annual haircut and we also threw a baby shower for another of ours.

I arrived in the village, Duns Tew, under a blue sky of so many fluttering things. The Alpaca shearing is always quite an experience, with the well looked after animals always grateful for having their thick coats removed under such a hot June sun. With the day spent within the picturesque farm, I noted quite a few birds each time I stopped to put more sun-screen on – who were only too happy to swoop by to see what the commotion made by the Alpacas was about.

That afternoon (4^th of June 2011), I noted:

House Sparrows, Chaffinch, Goldfinch, Blue Tit, Great Tit, Starling, Wood Pigeon, Collard Dove, Crow, Jackdaw, Swallow, House Martin, and quite a raucous pair of Red Kites, the sight of whom I’ve grown quite accustomed to down those parts. All very concentrated compared to the vast amount of room they have.

After a hard days work, a few beers were in order and I can’t seem to recall whether I saw any other birds that day…

On Sunday the 5^th we had the baby shower, so much of the morning my friends and I spent hanging dummies from the chandelier and seeing who could decorate the prettiest cup-cake or blow up the biggest balloon without it popping in your face. After a fun party of playing games (one of which being a baby food tasting game where I let my competitiveness streak have its way and accidentally ruined 17 years of vegetarianism on a spontaneous and stupid mouthful of goo), cooing over tiny clothes and talk of mortgages, marriage and the ‘best schools’ (which seemed to age us all), I decided to escape with what youth I had left and took the pair of black flat-coat retrievers, a pair of binoculars, slid into a pair of wellington’s and headed wood-wards.

I would have taken out my brand new über posh pair of binoculars, but they are out of action already. I was recently walking in a different wood with them fixed just under my brow, trying to focus and then proceeded to walk into a tree. After sitting up, checking for bleeding and realising I hadn’t been hit by a meteor (as I had thought), I spent one small glance at my new ‘bins’ which was all it took to know that they had come to the end of their, albeit, very short life. My face was fine though. Bittersweet. Maybe.

Over the weekend, I had been hearing a cuckoo and was determined to track it down in during my walk. After I said hello to a few neighbours, their dogs and a new foal on the adjacent farm, danced down the bridal path to my i-pod, swished the wheat with my palms, trundled from side to side of the central grassy bit of a rural road way, skipped up the hill, raced the dogs down the other side, bridged over the stream, wiped the swamp-crap from my face as the dogs decided to go through the stream and shake right in front of me, negotiated through a hedgerow, waved to a deer, manoeuvred through a tall, hayfever-sneeze-snot-tear-and-cough inducing meadow, avoided stepping on an orchid and boyishly bounding over fallen trees hoping not to put my back out, I found myself in a cops.

“Kookoo.”

Came the soft and quick call from somewhere or other. I thought it best to turn off my i-pod at this point. ;o)

“Kookoo.”

Ah. Definitely-maybe (?) it came from that, whichever ‘that’ was, direction. Let’s just say left. So I went left.

“Kookoo.”

Came the tease from behind me. By now I’m half expecting to see a ghost of a Native American in full regalia playing tricks on me with his pan-pipes.

“Kookoo.”

The fourth one, I’m pretty sure it came from under ground…

“Coo.” Mocked a Collard Dove.

“Shut-up Pigeon.” I reverted, still doing really well on not growing up.

“Kookoo.”

I stood silent.

“Kookoo.”

My breathing Shallowed.

“Kookoo.”

I definitely knew the direction that call came from so I turned.

“Kookoo.”

I lifted my binoculars and scanned the canopy.

“Kookoo.”

Still scanning.

“Bbbbringa, bbbbringa.”

Startled by both my telephones ring and its vibrating in my trousers which were far too tight for rambling, I forgot myself and snapped many-a-twig underfoot. In that fraction, I heard flapping and looked up just in time to see the back of a Cuckoo, around 30 metres ‘that-way’. Its mimic-flacon like grey body, everso silhouetted by the clouded sun, flying away. The phonecall was from my friend Helen Hamilton CBE (a very clever and kind lady), inquired as to whether I had seen my Cuckoo yet and wondered if I wanted to go shopping with her. I had seen it. Sure, it was its backside, but I saw it all the same. And quite lucky too - as when I have the dogs with me, the birds make themselves scarce. That said, this came into use when, on my way back, the girls caused a flock of Grey Partridgeto take flight and flap low over the wheat before disappearing again. Smashing. There was also a lone Spotted Flycather resting on a telephone wire just before I got back to the stables, so a rather successful couple of hours all in all.

On top of what I saw in the garden the day before, this outing included sights of;

Pheasant, Coal Tits, Kestrel, Mallards, Stock Doves,

I’ll be returning to Oxford a few more times this year, for no other reason than for the love of it, but am concentrating on my imminent trips to Norfolk, Yorkshire and a chunk of Scotland. News of which I’ll pop on my Twitter. There seems to be something wrong with the photograph uploader, so I put some here!

Until next time…

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

Hereford with Wincey Willis

2011-05-25T11:24:00.001-07:00

I have had many kind offers from fellow enthusiasts for days out and short trips to help me reach my target. So many in fact that I’ve had to

politely turn quite a few down.The kindness of strangers with this project has amazed me. After the initial burst of interest and support, and criticism,

I received after the dear Stephen Fry tweeted about it, I have been blessed and inundated with messages from perfect strangers. Perfect. With no personal gain, people have offered up help with my aim of spotting 500 different bird species in one year and even accommodation and such. So kind. Sadly, but necessarily, I am dubious, cautious and ever so choosy when agreeing to meet up with people, but as long as I am careful, I can go through new doors and see and do things I wouldn’t be able to by myself. One such offer was from Wincey Willis, who I met up with this past weekend.

I found myself in a windswept and sunny Hereford to be greeted by a smiling Wincey who had come to meet me at the station. When we arrived at her warm home, which is tucked away in a charming rural area, she showed me where I would be staying and I unwound from a long journey with a nice cup of tea. We got to know each other whilst looking out of her French windows, which looked through her garden and onto rolling fields and a biscuit tin village.

As we chatted, I was amazed at the plethora of wildlife that casually paraded on her doorstep. I’m only really used to city wildlife which, whilst beautiful and amazing in it’s own right, is limited and familiar – although I

constantly remind myself not to take it for granted. Also, I spend a lot of time on my friends Alpaca farm in Oxford, which always provides an array of fauna to gawk at, but never so close to where I am sat - sipping my tea. This was an obvious testament to how comfortable the fluffy, furry and feathery folk felt here. With several feeding stations and a bird table which was a full size table, it was truly a haven for birds who have come to rely on Wincey’s generosity. During the time spent gazing at the pretty panoramic views out of her windows, I was able to spy a number of:

Wood Pigeon, Stock Dove, Collard Dove, Yellowhammer, Greenfinch, Chaffinch, Blue Tit,

Great Tit, Black Bird, House Sparrow, Pheasant, Crow, Magpie, Jackdaw, Jay, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Kestrel, Buzzard, Swift, Starling, Robin, and Greater Black-backed Gull as well as cheeky grey squirrels, a herd of cattle and the sweetest little bunnies – all at close range.

Wincey, amongst a varied career in broadcasting, has so much experience with wildlife and conservation. She indulged me with stories of her work in the Americas, Madagascar and India, her caring for homeless and injured animals and other fascinating (mainly hilarious) stories of her career so far. I also got to look at some of her published work, which showed a personable and warm look at nature.

When our original plans went waywards and the weather started to look unhealthy, Wincey suggested we go to a Hereford Nature Trust. A sweet place, but unfortunately when we arrived we were informed it was closed for the day as everyone was out on a staff training course. Just my luck. But a busy handyman said we could go into his work shed as some Swallows had set up nest there. And within minutes, a pair of sweeping Swallows were

masterfully ribboning just feet above out heads.

We walked the short perimeter of the area and then got back into the car. Unsure of what to do next, Wincey mentioned that perhaps we should go to somewhere called Symond’s Yat Rock (in the Wye Valley and Forest of Dean) in hope of spotting a Peregrine Falcon. Having never heard of it, always willing

to please and super excited of the prospect of seeing a Peregrine, I said yes and off we went.

Winding through beautiful countryside, we made the steady climb, parked and set off on foot. On a balcony, atop a cliffs edge, stood a temporary RSPB set-up with a little stall and a row of telescopes all honed and focused in on one spot. Before settling in and waiting for the Falcon to show, I looked down… It was spectacular! Without any hint of a doubt, it was one of the most breathtaking views I have seen in England. Incredible. And just when

I thought I had taken in the enormity of it all, I saw a couple walking by a horse-shoe of the river Wye as it meandered through the valley. The sight of this couple walking by the bank quadrupled the size of what I was looking at

as my perception was originally thrown by it’s sheer scale. AWEsome!

Within arms length, a next box - housing the least timid Nuthatches I have ever seen – sat proudly above the canyon with its adult inhabitants busying themselves feeding their young.

It wasn’t long before excitable people did what they do best and all eyes were hidden by binoculars and pointed toward the cliff face, which I was told was a third of a mile away. So I, ever the sheep, did the same. Nothing. “Wow.” Said one spectator. Nothing. “Isn’t he magnificent?” Said a second. Nothing. “So beautiful.” Added a third. Still, I saw nothing. Catching wind of this, one of the ever so helpful volunteers suggested I “…look just below the pink flowers.” PINK FLOWERS? What frickin’ pink flowers? I saw no pink flowers! I saw no flowers of any colour! And I saw no Peregrine. I didn’t lose heart and I was quickly gestured towards the telescopes. After deciding which eye I should use (decisions, decisions! I choose the right one as my left was tickly with hayfever and did not deserve the treat!), I peered through. A wall, not visible through my binoculars, of pink flowers materialized behind a bare parasitic branch that grew from the face of the rock. And just underneath a Jackdaw, sat the Peregrine Falcon. In all it’s own glory. Absolutely wonderful! His steely blue-grey plumage both stood out from and mirrored the cool rock. His white breast stood up proud and bold. His piercing eyes, framed with dreamy sunflower yellow, almost seemed to know he was being watched. And he loved it. And so did we. All present were elated by his presence. A spectacular spectacle that shall stay with me for a while. I was so preoccupied with being pleased with myself, that I completely forgot to donate a little money into the collection box sat on the stall. Something I shall remedy next time I’m at an RSPB reserve.

A wonderful and unforgettable experience. The whole weekend. It was smashing. And I am ever so grateful to Wincey Willis for her wonderful hosting, great conversation and unwavering generosity. Thank you. Without you, my list would not now house the Yellowhammer, the Swallow and the PEREGRINE FALCON! Woot! Still on cloud nine, which is a few levels down from where the peak of Yat’s Rock is!!!

So I had a wonderful weekend, I didn’t miss a train, bumps and scraps were kept to a minimum and An excting tour around Scotland is immenent, so be sure to come and say hi on Twitter for more updates.

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

You can see more of my photo's from Hereford by clicking here!

Sandwell Valley

2011-05-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

On the 5^th of May, I finished up a business trip to Birmingham early, and managed to pop to the RSPB reserve in Sandwell for an hour. It only took me a total of 15 minutes to get to from Birmingham New Street Station, by train and foot, door to door. I was greeted by a sprightly and ever so helpful member of staff who explained the layout of the reserve, the route I might like to take and a little about the reserve itself. All from a sweet little porta-cabin as, from reading on their website, the visitor centre suffered fire damage in March 2010 - but a new one is currently having the finishing touches put to it.

As you make your way through to the reserve, you quickly forget how close to a major city you are. The droves of drivers in traffic are replaced by the milling of several tit’s and finch’s and warblers and their accompanying song.

Unfortunately, I arrived just in time to learn the hide had been closed for the day, but nevertheless I was treated to a lovely walk and could spy the lake from many other view points and giddily ticking off the Dunlin and Little Ringer Plover. On one of the viewpoints sat two young girls and their grandparents. After exchanging nods, then pleasantries, we all spoke about the lake. From the lone Cormorant posing regally on a perch, to the zig-zagging blue Damsel Flies. I pointed out Lapwings, Tufted ducks, a Mistle Thrush and a Hobby. I was hoping to list the oystercatchers that have been spotted on the lake island, but I was not successful. In turn, the Grandfather divulged me with some local history and I even got treated to a cookie. Nommy. All of this was rather pleasant. So much so, I barely noticed a whole 60 minutes pass. My time here was being very much dictated to by my train schedule, so I was unable to complete a full circuit and had to bid my farewells and thanks and head back to the train station.

On my way to the exit, a darty young bird hopped from the hedges onto the dirt track in front of me where it was only visible from the corner of my eye. It was far too quick for me and within the nano seconds it took for me to glance in its direction, it was back in flight and through the bushes on the other side. Now, remembering that I barely saw the flighty thing, I’m not sure how much of the following is true or how much of it I have simply fabricated and convinced myself to be true, but this is how I perceived it… a finch – in both shape and size… and two toned. Bottom half from Shoulders down; buff brown, neck up; grey with a paler cap, tinted blue and the flight feathers of a darker hue than body.My betting is that it was a small sparrow, momentarily caught between strong sunlight and the dappling of the foliage shadows. No more, no less. Either way, I can’t claim to know what it was, so it has no place on the list. But, if you have any ideas, they would be interesting to know.

A smashing, albeit short, visit to the RSPB in Sandwell. So, if you’re from the area or find yourself within it – go! It’s free and made for a lovely afternoon walk. Click here to visit their webpage!

I am busy planning trips to Norfolk, Scotland and Wales. All very exciting and you shall be updated duly.

So far on my quest to spot 500 wild and roaming birds in Britain in 365 days, I have noted 282 birds in total, 168 of which count on the list.. I Recently scruntinised the list and noted and amended several duplications. This may have thrown some older posts out of sync, numerically, but I shall endeavour to update those soon. So, yes... 168 birds down!

This leaves me with 332 birds and 9 months to go!..

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

No Rain at Rainham

2011-04-29T09:11:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, after feeding a cat and catching several trains, my ever patient other half and I arrived at the RSPB’s ‘Rainham Marshes’ reserve which is sweetly tucked away in Essex by the A13 and just within the M25. After a short introduction from a very diligent and friendly staff member, we set off on the 2.2 mile walk around the entirety of the reserve. We’ve been spoilt with good weather lately, so it might be a tad unfair for me to say the weather wasn’t great… it was dry and warm, and that is good enough. Straight away, I was able to start ticking cute and feathery friends off from the list. Walking clockwise around the park, many a warbler warbled and winged their way between the reeds. However, once you’re finally able to spot one, you then have the difficulty of deciding which species it is. Warblers, I find and I’m sure others may do too, are particularly difficult to identify - but a kindly fellow birder directed me into the

right area of classification. Thankies fankus fanx! I'm always learning, and will gladly be taught.

I’ve also come to rely on my partner for his help. Whilst my eyes never fail me, and I often put aside my binoculars which sometimes get in the way (I find them sometimes challenging to use, which I blame them for entirely and has

nothing to do with my inability to judge direction...), my ears are less useful. Partially deaf on my left side and generally ignorant on the right - I’ve come to use him for his keen and well tuned-in jugs. “We haven’t heard that song before.” he will say and I will focus on the general area and reply “Oh yes, well done love. That’s a Whitethroat.” (see right) And despite bird watching not quite being ‘his thing’, we’ve become quite the team.

We leisurely meandered under, as the literature quite proudly and rightly announces,

one of the biggest skies I’ve seen in London and - as always - enjoyed the activities intended for

children. Another lovely aspect of the reserve is that it was once a military firing range

and remnants of those days gone by still remained and nestled effortlessly into the very tranquil and pleasing marsh. The lack of handrails on some of the boardwalks was pleasing as they often mar views, but as I am particularly clumsy at the best of times, I had to take extra care. Only a few minor wobbles and I didn’t end up all boggy, so a success by any means!

The large skies framed some lovely sights. Hobbies and Kestrels were keenly noted and quickly jotted onto the list. Swifts swooped about as ducks in flight took a more leisurely pace and, as dusk dawned upon us, large murmations of starlings, around 200 strong, danced around the buzzing pylons.

My favourite sighting of the day was a lone Redshank (Tringa Totanus). Well spotted by a lady in the ‘Ken Barret’ hide, it wandered nearly invisibly sorting for a meal. This darling, dear bird now sits as number 170 on my list! I happily noted 27 new additions during my visit to Rainham marshes which was a wonderful day out, fully accessible and well maintained. A must if you’re in the area. For more on Rainham Marshes, click here!

My next excursion will be to a zoo. No doubt I wont be able to tick many from my list, but do remember that the aim of this project is not only to try and spot 500 wild and roaming birds in Britain - but also to note other species that one can spy.

So, until next time - happy birding one and all!

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

A diving Coot by her young at Rainham Marshes.

For more photo's of Rainham and other places I've visited, click here!

London's Parrots!

2011-04-12T12:47:00.000-07:00

The Indian Ring-necked Parakeet (Psittacula Krameri Manillensis) is a one of the four noted sub-species of the Rose-ringed Parakeet (Psittacula Krameri), and has become a rather common sight in London, one of the 15^th most numerous in fact.

The origins of these non-native and feral colonies are uncertain. Ideas ranging from pets that have escaped or released individuals or duos, to suggestions of the present flocks descending from Shepperton Studio escapees, in Surrey, during filming of the 1951 movie The African Queen or from a pair that Jimi Hendrix released in Carnaby Street sometime in the 1960’s as a symbol of peace. However their presence came about, the fact is they have established themselves boldly – with no signs of their numbers declining. These numbers are estimated to be circa 40,000 as of the start of 2011 and growing. Their breeding season is rather early in the year, which gives them free reign on the choice of nesting holes, favouring to hijack an existing domicile. For this reason, among others, this beautiful alien species has now come under fire. And it might not be long until this is literal. The fact that they inhabit nesting sights that are also well suited for native species and compete for the same nuts,

berries, fruits and seeds – has, by some, hailed on a call for a cull. However, evidence of interference with native species is yet to arise. They can also prove to be rather destructive in their manner, but again, are yet to show themselves as a viable or costly problem, with only minimal reports of swarm like behaviour. So would a cull be

useful/necessary/justifiable? As a strict vegetarian, anti-vivisectionist and animal rights supporter, I can not fully support a cull. But on the contrary, I do see the importance of culls in general. I am not a fan of sacrifice, but I can’t deny the need of maintaining a sustainability within ecological systems. For instance, many deer culls exist to prevent over population. If we allow deer to overpopulate an area, there is a chance they all will suffer as a result. So, by culling, one is maintaining a healthy population, whereas if we were to let them get on with it – fatal disasters such as famine for all the deer could ensue. But I can’t help but go back to the point that the presence of the parakeets is yet to pose a problem. Yes, prevention is better than cure – but is culling the way to go?

Recently, the RSPB released it’s ‘Big Garden Birdwatch’ figures, and while the numbers of smaller species are on the rise, birds such as the Starling – whilst numerous – struggle to reach the numbers they did in the eighties. Starlings, by nature, are in direct competition with the parakeet and whilst I’m not suggesting that their laboured survival is a result of the ever increasing parakeet population, their participation - or potential participation - to the problem cannot be ignored.

Might I suggest more humane, ethically viable and simply darn right more pleasing and favourable ways that one can help with the ‘issue’?

Bird feeders: Meshed bird feeders that you can buy at most pet and hardware stores are designed for British seed eaters. The parakeets, whilst taking full advantage of our beloved feeding tables, tend to steer away from these feeders as their beaks are not as delicate, and far more suited for crushing nuts.

Nest boxes: The main competitors, for nesting sights, of the Indian Ring-necked Parrot are Starlings and Woodpeckers. By providing nest boxes specifically for these considerably smaller species, the parrots monopoly on abodes would be disjointed by proxy. Better still, any additional nest boxes would be beneficial.

Any devices used to spook and/or deter crows from damaging property or devouring crops – would be just as suitable for the parakeets. Scare crows, noise makers etc. These preventative methods not only give our native birds a fighting chance, but also may make a cull avoidable. Surely a better solution to a problem that is yet to make an impact?

Also, whilst gregarious with each other and seemingly brazen, I am yet to see the parakeets be as bold as

pigeons, starlings or indeed a number of our more friendly species. This surely bodes well in our favour. So, perhaps a bi-law on the direct feeding of this species in public areas? Or at least trying to avoid where possible. This will keep them timid, plus – we all know what happened once we stopped feeding the sweet and dearly missed (at least by me anyway) pigeons of Trafalgar square. I just hope the dear parakeet keeps itself out of trouble and gets to stay.

EVERYWHERE I have visited so far on this task to spot 500 different bird species in Britain, there have been only two species present at every single sight. The Crow and the Ring-necked Parakeet. But I am always pleased to see them.

Upon visiting Richmond Park on the 9^th of April, I noted that you could not turn for seeing Crows, Jackdaws and Ring-necked Parakeets. Richmond Park is wonderful place and a true gift to Londoners. It is possible to find yourself in a position where all you can see is park and no buildings or traffic. Bliss. Plus, the mini heatwave we enjoyed, made the day extra special. I didn't manage to see the parks famous Red or Fallow Deer herds, but I did get to see lots of birds.

Species noted:

Wood Pigeon - Mallard - Tufted Duck - Grey Heron - Egyptian Goose - Mandarin Duck - Blue Tit - Great Tit - Long-tailed Tit - Mute Swan - Green Finch - Magpie - Wren - Starling - Blackbird - Willow (or Marsh) Tit - Nuthatch - Pied Wagtail - Moorhen - Coot - Canada Goose - Lesser Spotted Woodpecker -

All of which are already on my list! Guffaw! So no change to my number. Oh well, onwards and upwards!

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

Photograph's taken by Beau~Jensen in Richmond Park on the 9th of April 2011 - Click here to see more!

References:

http://www.rspb.org.uk/birdwatch/results.aspx

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose-ringed_Parakeet

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/3869815.stm

Cull-

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/news/article-23389796-cull-of-the-parakeets.do

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1217403/Open-season-parakeets-Exotic-birds-shot-licence-new-regulations.html

A Waxwing and a Prayer

2011-04-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

Despite most modes of transport having it in for me on the 24th, I started the trip off to a good start, when a Little Egret flew over Denham Station, just as I was boarding my 18:33 train to High Wycombe - en route to Oxford. I happily made a note of it and made my way.

On a bit of a high after being able to unexpectedly tick off the Little Egret from my list, the following day a few of us took in Chipping Norton on a half thought out plan to try and spot the, now, famous Oriental (Rufous) Turtle Dove, Streptopelia Orientalis. Our mission was, unfortunately, futile and we came away fruitless. Hopefully, our rare visitor will stick around for the summer and I'll have another opportunity to see it - albeit with more planning on my part!

Many a ramble followed through field and forest, by brook and bridal path and a wonderful weekend was had.

I enjoyed the company of wonderful friends, good food and wine, slept in one day (an absolute rarity) and spent some quality time with my ever forbearing other half. Along the way, I would be able to spot a bird not yet on my list, but was hindered by my friends flat coat retrievers who always seemed to be stuck by my side unless they wanted to chase something away. Nonetheless, I spotted just over 40 different species in the beautiful surrounding countryside, most of which I have already listed.

I had done all the bird watching I was going to do by Saturday evening, but as we got out of the car after a spot of very late lunch, I saw an odd silhouette in a tree outside the neighbours house in front of a bright setting Sun. Two odd silhouettes in fact. Small passerines, with a crest. I grabbed my camera and gently stepped forward, pondering what they could be. We had all been planning a trip to Scotland over lunch, so the Crested Tit was fresh in my mind - but it couldn't be. But what else could it be? Perhaps, just as daft... waxwings? Is it not too late in the season, or - indeed - too far west for Waxwings? The two silhouettes preened themselves, and I was

confident I could pass under the tree and to the other side, as so could have the Sun on my back and get a better gawk.

And there they were. As clear as day and far more confident than I would imagine them to be - were, indeed, a pair of Waxwings, Bohemian Waxwings, Bombycilla Garrulus. The first I've seen. A wee bit lucky, I must say!

The Waxwing is a beautiful bird and not so common in Britain, but migrate from their native Northern Europe during the winter months. Their irruptive migration is determined by the abundance, or lack, of food. Berries, particularly Rowan Berries, make up a large

proportion of their diet which is supplemented by insects. A beautiful characteristic that these charming

birds attain can be seen during courtship. Part of their ritual

involves the passing, back and forth, of a berry from beak to loving beak. Truly sweet. And an absolute pleasure to tick off my list - which now sits at 145.

The goal of seeing 500 birds in one year, although I've managed 145 in two months, is seeming less and less achievable. But the sheer joy of executing such a task, is getting grander and grander.

Next on the agenda is Richmond Park. Then a few more places until I start going further afield.

Be sure to share your current experiences with me - I always love to hear your stories. You can take a look at my other photographs and say hi on Twitter by clicking the links!

Until next time - enjoy yourselves!!

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

Short update - 27/03/2011

2011-03-27T08:58:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update:

Recent walks in places like Cassiobury Park, Brent Lodge park and along the River Brent have brought up a couple of new birds and some old favourites too. In the Chelsea and Kensington Cemetery in Hanwell , there were a number of Green Woodpeckers and Lesser Spotted woodpeckers darting around the headstones and, still, leaf bare trees in the unusual peace and calm for Hanwell. Quite a moment came, when I was treated to a close up (well, around 20 feet - but that's close for a woodpecker) view of a very regal Green Woodpecker who perched on a tombstone for about thirty seconds. More of a treat still was to observe him, what seemed like, cleaning himself with his very long tongue. The cemetery is only a short walk from my fella's house, so I shall go back and be sure to take my camera next time.

Sightings are getting rather thin on the ground - and in the trees and up in the air for that matter - so further a field I must tread. I'm not yet two months into the project, so there is plenty of time, all of the seasons, and so many places to go. So far, on my rough itinerary, I have these places pencilled in - with many more to come.

Within the next few weeks: Oxfordshire

April/May? Hereford and possibly Wales

June: Hampshire

July: Scotland

August: Norfolk

September: Cornwall

If you have any 'must see' suggestions, please feel free to contact me. Click here for my Twitter. And click here to see The List so far.

Until next time, when I hope to have spotted the Oriental Turtle Dove, much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

Bitten by a swan at Osterly

2011-03-08T13:09:00.001-08:00

04.03.2011

A hidden and quaint and beautiful part of West London, Osterly park nestles nicely in the suburbs in Isleworth. I used to live not far from Osterly as a child and only have fond memories of it. Not having been there for a few years, it was a lovely and welcomed and nostalgic part of my weekend.

A sweet day, with a charming flock of Chaffinches, plenty of tufted ducks and a flighty flock of Blue and Great Tits to take in. Not to mention 8 Mandarin ducks, a firm favourite of mine.

Also, there were two Egyptian Geese. Always a pleasure to see. But something I have never seen; an Egyptian Gosling. So I was most pleased to meet this little fellow. A singular gosling, trundling around trying to keep up with his proud parents. Precious.

On the end of the path of the North entrance, by the stable, was a flock of Long-tailed Tits – dancing and darting around the, still, naked Horse Chestnut trees.

They didn't seem to want to pose for a photo, but I managed to snap one as he caught his breath on the shrubbery.

So, apart from many birds that are already on my list, I noted Long-tailed Tits, Chaffinches, a Jackdaw, a Nuthatch, a Dunnock and, #123, a Greenfinch. Only 377 to go!!! :o)

A most pleasant afternoon stroll. Apart from, that is, getting nipped by a Mute Swan. Completely my fault, mind!

N.b. I was feeding them a mix of cereals and seeds. I never feed birds bread. It’s of little nutritional value to them, and therefore a waste of their resources when digesting it. Not to mention, it could lead to all sorts of complications for them.

And when feeding Swans, try throwing it in the water, not feeding by hand! Te he! TOP TIP!

You can see all my photographs of the day, and other days, by clicking on the link at the top right of this page under 'Useful Links'. Along with links to 'the list' and my Twitter, which is updated daily.

Until next time...

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

The Bittern

2011-03-05T05:23:00.000-08:00

The Bittern. The Great Bittern. The Eurasian Bittern. Botaurus Stellaris. The Bitter-bump. The Bog Blutter. The Bull of the Bog. The Bog Boomer. My Bittern! The Bog Bumper. The Butter Bump.

Or however you may know it, the Bittern is a beautiful and iconic bird of great British wildlife – but sadly, it’s scarce. Upon mentioning the exciting fact that I saw my first ever Bittern the other day, at the London Wetland Centre, to a few friends, I was surprised to learn that all but one of them had never heard of them.

Before the 1850’s, the Bittern was not an uncommon sight in Britain, and in Fenland areas it was not an uncommon sight on dinner tables. But their number fell. There are many contributing factors to the Bitterns decline. In the mid 1800’s, hunters and egg collectors succeeded in forcing the breeding Bittern into extinction in Britain. It wasn’t until 1911 that migrant birds from the continent decided to stay and breed in the Norfolk broads. A peak of 80 booming (the sound of the birds courtship call) males were recorded in 1954, but the introduction of pesticides took their toll and the numbers started to fall once again. The huge reduction in the demand for roof thatching also contributed to their drop in numbers. As fewer and fewer reedbeds were being tended to, the habitat the Bittern enjoys was slowly being lost. Increased tourism, the neglect of the reedbeds and the draining of fens and marshes have all had their part to play in making Britain a less desirable place for the Bittern.

But, happily this story has a silver lining. With organisations such as the Wildfowl and Wetland Trust, landscapes are being maintained that best suit the British species of birds that are most in need,. With this much needed help, it is hoped that the number of booming males will reach a more sustainable 100 by 2020.

The best places to see a bittern is at a reserve. You will have more chances of seeing one from a public viewing hide and this also offers protection for the birds who should not be disturbed in any way.

As mentioned before, I was most privileged when I saw my first bittern at the London Wetland Centre. I recently spoke to Jamie Wyver, the PR and Events Executive at the Centre and asked him a few questions.

How many bitterns have been noted this season at the centre?

"We had 6, possibly 7 on one day. One notable visitor was the bittern who was rescued from a road in Enfield by the Swan Sanctuary, and released here on Christmas Eve!"

How endangered are they?

"They are one of the UK's rarest breeding birds. The loss of their habitat from the 19th century onwards led to a severe decline in their population."

How important are wetland reservations to the Bittern?

"Bitterns need large reedbeds - they're adapted for skulking among the reeds, perfectly camouflaged, to hunt for fish and amphibians. There aren't many big reedbeds left in the UK so protecting the remaining ones, or creating new reedbeds, like ours here in Barnes, is essential for their survival."

Best time of day/year to see them?

"We usually see them here from November - March, but I don't think there's a particular time of day that you're likely to see one."

What can people do to help?

"Visit us or become a member of WWT - you'll be funding our vital conservation work maintaining habitats for bitterns and all manner of wetland wildlife!"

What's your favourite bird on the reserve?

"Water rail. Another shy wetland species and a very pretty bird. They don't spend much time out in the open - when you do see them they'll be running from one clump of vegetation to another - so seeing one feels like a real privilege."

For more details on the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust, click here:

It’s important to support such organisations, who are tirelessly striving to preserve habitats and their inhabitants for us all to enjoy.

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

With kind thanks to Jamie Wyver.

Photograph from wikipedia under the Gnu free documentation license.

London Wetland Centre - 26.02.2011

2011-03-01T11:22:00.000-08:00

Not discouraged by what turned out to be a spot on and fitting weather report,

my very understanding fella and I made out way to the London Wetland Centre in Barnes.

Not discouraged by And wet it was. However, 'twas perfect weather for ducks - as they say, and they say it for a reason. So, apart from regretting wearing wool, I was most satisfied and felt truly in

dulged by the number of beautiful birds, splashing around and

making the most of wet winter weather.

Thinking it best to head straight for cover, we meandered and dallied our way - whilst constantly being distracted by whistles and woots and waddles in the World Wetlands - to the

Wild Side hide. After wringing out all that was wringable and clearing the fog from my binoculars and camera lens, I settled down marshward. Poised and in waiting for one thing and one thing only.

A bittern.

As I was in it for the long haul, I was floppingly ecstatic when I saw one after a few moments. An ecstasy that went as quickly as it came, for I think I was mistaken. No-one else in the room seemed to notice or care. Was I the only one who could see it? Or was I just hoping so much to see one, that I made myself see what I wanted? Hmm. Not sure. I didn't count it.

Mildly disheartened, I moved seats with my wet bag, wet coat, wet clipboard, wet book, camera and binoculars - of which now had a fresh coat of fog on them. I sat myself next to one particular gentleman who had the biggest lens in the room. (Now, now, behave!) I figured, if anyone was going to see MY bittern, it would be him. And as everyone was so friendly and chatty, he didn't mind a bit and was very much orchestrating the room as to where to look. As soon as I squelched into position, the room became a furore of muted gasps, as our master (I named him this in my head) pointed through the hatch with his eyebrows.

And there, within full view, strutted out a very demure and sexy bittern. My bittern. The first I had ever seen. All thoughts of what I had seen not five minutes before hand were quite gone at this point. In awe, I forgot to bother with my binoculars or camera. For around 7 massively long seconds - he skulked up to the bank, flirtatiously took an over energetic sip of water and then... wait, what?

A frickin' crow, who was just as beautiful - but he knew as well as I did that today was not about him, gestured territ

orially towards MY BITTERN. In that instant, the crow spooked him and snapped me out of my daze. Accompanied by the sound of shutters from everyone else's cameras, I fiddled with mine and hastily took a few shots. Then he was gone. Two shots "came out", if you can call it that. Unfocused and misty. And I've studied them hard. Really hard! And cannot for the life of my make out My Bittern. But I saw him and I could not have been happier. I will, of course, dedicate more time before next February on seeing another and hopefully getting a photograph - but for now, here's to #39 on the list! The Bittern. Botaurus Stellaris. My Bittern.

Despite this obvious high, the rest of the day was not an anti-climax. Treats all around. I took in a few warblers, some lapwing, a colony of cormorant, and a menagerie or avian goodies. Including

as many moorhens, a personal favourite of mine for an odd reason that I shant bother you with, as you could shake a furled umbrella at. Two very playful woodpeckers danced around the feeding station, which was another first for me. I also got to see a Caspian, a Herring and a Yellow-footed gull. Which I doubt I would have been able to do by myself - so thanks to those who helped me with the identification, it was much appreciated. We also found time to play on the children's interactive educational games, an essential and much enjoyed pastime of ours.

Jamie, the Wildfowl and wetland PR & Events Executive, had generously agreed to meet up with me and help me a little. But due to poor communication (on my part!) we missed one another. But I'll be back and we'll, as long as I'm organised) catch up then. I've asked him some questions over e-mail - and hopefully get them in a blog in a few days for a deeper look at the Bittern and the WWT.

Overall, a rather good day. The Wildfowl and Wetland Centre in London, comes very highly recommended for a wonderful day out - whatever the weather!

THE LIST - at the top of the right hand column of this blog along with updated photographs - is totting up nicely. Now, I have counted all of the non-native species purposely kept at the WWT as a 'Roaming collection'. You may agree or disagree, it's completely your prerogative. Which is why, with the list, there is a tally of 100% wild birds I have seen. You can decide which total counts, but for now - I'm classing my total as 116.

This may seem like a large amount to get in less than a month, and maybe it is. I'm certainly proud of all the amazing things I have seen so far. But, the task is getting progressively harder as all the common ones are being ticked off - the illusive ones are posing themselves as a challenge of their own. So, I had better carry on...

Much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen

xXx~oOo!

My Starling

2011-02-21T11:45:00.000-08:00

One doesn't have to tread far to view and enjoy wildlife. From Doves to Sparrows, from blackbirds to Parrots - my small

garden in West London is a hive of activity throughout the year. Amongst the variety of birds that often frequent these parts, I have a clear favourite. It's not the rarest or the largest or, in some people’s eyes, it is not the prettiest - but it is my favourite garden bird. The European Starling, Sturnus Vulgaris. Unfortunate scientific name... from any angle. Meaning, 'ordinary' or 'common'. Common, yes. Ordinary? Not at all. Where I live, they are everywhere. In the trees, in the nest boxes and even in the roofs. And I can't get enough of them. There calls are loud and various. A mixed and gloriously messy cacophony of whistles and wails and shrieks and shrills. Their endearing song drones out the dull murmur of the M40, which is not far from me, and puts me somewhere far from the city.

There plumage is just as magnificent. It’s a plumage that most disregard. At a glance, they are simply yet another mutely toned passerine. But, no. Take one more moment and you will see that their deep dark tones are flushed with glossy purples and iridescent greens. Their bodies are decorated with creamy spots and their wings highlighted with rich browns. A truly beautiful bird that, in my humble opinion, rivals any plumage given to us by exotic parrots or, indeed, by the Europeans Starlings more celebrated cousins.

Then there are the murmations. A spectacle if you ever did see one! Beautiful, aerial, acrobatic displays where flocks of up to a million dance and dart in formation. Quite the scene. We get small murmations here. Mainly in the autumn months, but I hope to travel to Somerset this fall where Britain’s largest recorded shows take place.

Also of note is their parenting. Oh so often, throughout spring, we get many fallen fledglings. This often isn’t too much of a problem, as the young soon find their wings and take to higher levels. However, here in suburbia we have many cats and the young are often picked off rather quickly. It’s sad, but it’s nature. One of the most chilling aspects of this sadder time of spring is the noise the parents make. No longer does their song seem haphazard and care free, it becomes haunting. Their screams show their compassion, their anguish, their loss. As there are so many where I live, for a few months each year, a day barely goes by without hearing this tale telling siren. But one morning last April at my parents house, the calls seemed louder. Loud enough for me to take notice of what has become background noise. I made my way into the kitchen where I found the cause of the chaos. A fledging had found its way into, and to this day I have no idea how, the cavity of a wall. So, after some poorly stylised hammering, I got it out. I caught the rest on camera, below.

I also just read on Wikipedia, that the male sings whilst making his next. He whistles while he works!!! I don’t think I could adore this bird more. So here’s to number 34 on my list. My beloved Starling.

Also this week, I visited Cassiobury Park in Watford. A short walk from my office. This proved to be a very productive lunch hour. Not only was I able to tick 10 more species off from my list, one of them was the Hawfinch. The first time I have ever seen one! Most exciting!

You will find a link to 'My List' on the top of this page, in the right hand column, under the heading ‘Useful Links’.

Until next time, much love and smile always,

Beau~Jensen.

xXx~oOo!

(All photo's are mine, except the Starling and Hawfinch. Taken from Wikipedia under Creative Commons License. I shall replace them with my own when I get decent ones to use. )

A Moorhen in Watford High Street Pond

A Crow In Cassiobury Park

A Hawfinch (not the one I saw, but just as beautiful!)