I cycled 41 km mapping corn buntings today. We are now up to 207 territories after 17 days. It was windy today and detectability wasn’t great, but little by little the territories get mapped. Many birds haven’t committed to a territory yet, although I had my first female nest building today. She popped up out of some vegetation beside a fence with a big beakful of dried grass, dropping it immediately when she saw me watching. Some birds are very cautious or this one might not have got going yet. Travelling so far through farmland it was perhaps not surprising I came across a quail – singing near Dunino. And also a raven. A carrion crow flew up to mob it and escort out of the area, looking small next to the buzzard sized raven.
And then a nice end to the busy day – the weather finally delivered. There were at least four red-backed shrikes around Balcomie this evening, with a new bird being found about every half an hour. There was another found at Boarhills, suggesting that all along the East Neuk coast there are tens of red-backed shrikes right now. It’s a nice evening so some might not stay around, but even if half leave, there are a lot of shrikes to be found tomorrow. I cycled out last thing to connect with one around Balcomie cottages. A really handsome male, glowing in the evening sunshine.
The male red-backed shrike at Balcomie cottages this evening
I’m not entirely sure where the week has gone. Some of it has been waiting for migrants to appear – putting off writing something because I was sure that tomorrow was going to bring something really worth talking about. We have had a favourable south-easterly airflow for the last few days, and even some rain overnight – all good conditions for migrant falls. But Kilminning and Balcomie and Denburn have stubbornly remained quiet with just willow warblers and the occasional lesser whitethroat. I’m still optimistic about tomorrow, of course, but that is the way of it in the spring around Crail. More hope than delivery. We seem to only get about two good goes of spring migrants (and we have already had one of them) even when we have good easterly winds. At least the swifts are fully here now. They have been in small numbers since the 10th and probably all back by the 12th. They are now doing their screaming and chasing act around the High Street.
Regardless of the migrants the spring season is progressing at last, with temperatures above ten degrees all week. There have been holly blue butterflies in my garden and one reported from Denburn. Any blue butterfly around in April or early May in Crail will be a holly blue – common blues start mid-May at the earliest. But one way of identifying a holly blue from a common blue is to chase them – well, approach them. Holly blues are tame and don’t fuss as you approach whereas common blues head for the horizon. Holly blues are recent climate change arrivals for us, and I have only recorded them in Crail for the last three years. Other nice looking butterflies this week – a small copper (tiny and bright copper!) on the coastal path at Kilminning and an orange tip (orange tipped white wings – you really do have to appreciate butterfly names in terms of their identification cues!) at Coal Farm, St Monans.
Holly blue butterfly – on a holly leaf, and letting me get close to it, so definitely a holly blue. The thick black border on the wings is the truly distinctive character though – unique to a female holly blue.
Airdrie farm’s excellent record with breeding lapwings continues. One of the fields next to the Secret Bunker, deliberately kept bare for April, has about six nesting pairs in it. Some on eggs and some already with chicks. No corn bunting territories, but then life’s a tradeoff. In the 200 km2 that I survey for corn buntings there are only perhaps 20 pairs of lapwings, and a lot of these are on Airdrie Farm. Lapwings need to nest in colonies so there is enough of them to chase the crows and buzzards away. Single pairs of lapwings don’t have much of a chance, and as lapwings get scarcer this is the only option. A positive feedback loop of things getting worse and worse (although not really a positive result). But not today at Airdrie.
One of the lapwing chicks I encountered at Airdrie Farm this morning, although fairly hard to spot when they crouch down. Ironically the alarm calling adults give them away.
In the excitement of the yellow wagtail reappearing (for their 10th year now!), I forgot the other big news of yesterday. I saw my first swift back in Crail. A single bird cruising over my house and the High Street. With the warm weather finally arriving today I was expecting more back this evening but not so far. As I reported last year, swift arrival dates are getting later, not earlier, and May 7th is another moderately late arrival. I also saw a harbour porpoise just off Caiplie yesterday – they are much rarer than the bottle-nose dolphins (in fact harbour porpoises avoid bottlenose dolphins which are often aggressive to smaller cetaceans).
After another morning of mapping corn bunting territories I am fairly convinced that they are late this year and many birds are not even close to committing to a territory. I had a flock of more than 16 up at Kippo Farm: I hope they all convert into territories and bolster the border of the current range. But we have already had a territory at Kinkell Byre and two north of Dunino, which represents a range increase of about half a kilometer beyond last year’s extreme edge territories.
A male corn bunting that has committed to a territory between Crail and Hammer Inn – although it didn’t sing much this lunchtimeMany corn buntings today were doing this – just sitting very quietly and watching what was happening. This might be a female watching what the males are doing and listening to them singing before committing to a nesting territory. Or this might be a young male doing the same, but before committing to establishing its own territory in the cracks between the existing ones.
I spent the morning working my way through the fields between Crail and Kilrenny, and then through the Kilrenny plains (the huge, uninterrupted fields north of the village). Lots of corn bunting territories, although they weren’t inclined to sing much. Some days they sit as if they are going to sing but then they just sit. It takes twenty minutes or more in a territory to get the crucial bit of evidence to record a new territory. It might be the weather – ten degrees and dull? But with a slow cycle through each area and frequent stops the territories accumulated. As I came back into Crail passing Oldbarns a yellow wagtail finally flew over calling – just when I was accepting that they were a no show this year. I followed the bird (finding another skulking corn bunting territory on the way). It looks like we have missed them for the last two weeks – a male yellow wagtail (re)appeared and started mobbing my dog as if it had a nest nearby. When this happens the mobbing bird returns to the nest area every now and then, and this bird hovered around a particular corner of the field, increasing its response as I walked towards the area. I wouldn’t bet my house on it, but if a pair arrived a couple of weeks ago (which would not even be early), then a female could be on eggs by now. The possible nest is adjacent to the usual field where they have started nesting in almost every year for the last eight, and over the road, so I think I have been looking the wrong way for the last three weeks. Anyway, the yellow wagtails are back in Crail for another year.
Yellow wagtail breeding near Crail again
The red-breasted flycatcher is still at Lower Kilminning. It looks turbo charged. Moving through the bushes as if speeded up. Its rate of feeding over the last five days must surely have got it ready for its next migration leg. Red-breasted flycatchers breed in Eastern Europe – the closest place to Crail being perhaps Southern Sweden or Poland – this would be a less than a 24 hour flight; but if it is from further east – Russia perhaps – then it might need a full fat load to get there. The weather is better for migration tonight – I think the red-breasted flycatcher will be on its way east. Migrants go, migrants come. There was a new bird in at Lower Kilminning, a whinchat. As always, along the fence line from the green shed to the golf course. A really bright, summer plumage male. I never see whinchats this handsome in Africa.
Heavy rain this morning put pay to corn bunting survey. I went out after lunch – never the best time – and headed up to Wormiston. There are surprisingly few corn buntings between Crail and Wormiston: last year there were 7 territories, but there is only one so far. Areas rise and areas fall, and on the scale of a kilometer there is a lot of change over the years. I did have a corn bunting singing next to the new meadow at Kilminning! It is being as optimistic as I am considering the very slow germination of the meadow. I think it is the bird from the adjacent fallow field between the golf club and Kilminning, so not its “real” territory. But encouraging nonetheless. The corn bunting also made my stop at Kilminning legitimate in terms of work – the red-breasted flycatcher is still present but the redstarts and blackcaps have moved on. There are still lesser whitethroats – two or three at Lower Kilminning – and a lot of willow warblers.
Lesser whitethroat next to the new wetland at Kilminning this afternoon contemplating changing its classification from warbler to flycatcher
There was nothing new in today except some bramblings, a fieldfare and perhaps more lesser whitethroats and blackcaps – although there were plenty yesterday, so perhaps they were just more detected as we searched more extensively. Everything that was about yesterday stayed overnight. The flycatchers and the common redstarts were still around at Kilminning. There was a fly emergence today so staying was a good decision. The bare sides of the new wetland at Kilminning were covered with tiny flies and the redstart, a brambling, and a lot of other residents (meadow pipits, reed buntings, pied wagtails) were feeding on the banks above the water all day. Occasionally the red-breasted flycatcher would drop down from the bushes to join them. And lots of swallows overhead. Today was the first day that the new wetland was humming with insects and birds – still very early days but a complete contrast from the few meadow pipits that used to use the grass that the pond has replaced.
One of the bramblings in today at Upper Kilminning – a male, not quite in full summer plumage. The head should be jet black. The photo is a bit dark, but it was foggy this morning until lunchtimeA swallow using the sentinel stone in the middle of the pond as a song perch this morning
The May waders are appearing now. Today was the best of the season so far for whimbrels. There were small flocks passing along the coast, heading north, all day. Some tantalizing close to landing at the Kilminning wetland, but it was a little bit busy with people for that. Along the shore at Balcomie there were more whimbrels among the rocks, the first group of summer plumage turnstone and a single black-tailed godwit. Always a good bird for the Crail patch, and usually a flyby as they move along the coast, but today the bird stopped at Stinky Pool. It was another tame bird like the golden plover of last week. A good thing considering the bank holiday traffic on the golf course. I could sit right at the edge of the pool and watch it closely, and although a herring gull made it nervous, it seemed completely indifferent to me.
The black-tailed godwit on Stinky Pool this afternoon. It’s a bit hard to tell because it is not in full summer plumage but I think this is an Icelandic bird (the flanks are getting rufous and the back is on the way to being mostly rufous).
It has been a busy day at Kilminning. The easterlies brought in some good numbers of the scarcer migrants, with the best bird being a red-breasted flycatcher. There were several common redstarts, with quite a bright male (or two) moving around much of Lower Kilminning in the morning. There were lesser whitethroats – four were caught and ringed in the patch today – and I saw one as my first bird when I arrived at Kilminning first thing this morning. This afternoon there was a handsome male pied flycatcher at Upper Kilminning, with occasional flybys from a spotted flycatcher. A three flycatcher day. The red-breasted flycatcher was initially hard to see, with brief glimpses of the bird low within the bushes between the ruined toilet block and wetland. But later in the afternoon it began feeding along the edge of the new meadow, flycatching out in the open, regardless of people just a few meters away. Red-breasted flycatchers are often difficult, skulking in dense cover and moving rapidly, but this bird was as easy they ever get. A photographer’s dream and there were a lot of happy people at Kilminning today. There were some other migrants – blackcaps, willow warblers, a few northern wheatear (and two feeding along the edge of the new pond), chiffchaffs and common whitethroats. And lots of barn swallows. I was also going to go to the May Island this afternoon – but the strong easterlies meant the boat was cancelled. There was a crane, a wryneck, a nightingale, a bluethroat and a grey-headed wagtail on the island today – the irony being that they were only there because of the easterlies, which meant I couldn’t get to the island. But it didn’t feel like second place on the mainland today – flycatchers and redstarts are some of my favourite birds so it was a very good day. And tomorrow may well be better as more birders head our way for the weekend, inevitably finding more birds.
Red-breasted flycatcher, out in the open in the late afternoon sunshineMale pied flycatcher – probably born last year, because of its brownish flight feathers – at Upper Kilminning this afternoonOne of the male common redstarts at Kilminning today, with the new wetland just behind it
May 1st. First day of the corn bunting season. Singing males count as territories from now until August. I kicked off at Boarhills in less than promising weather – a thick haar, damp and fairly cool. Despite this about 30% of the territories in the area had singing males, with a couple in unexpected places. At this stage in the season and with the weather I would only expect about 30% detectability for a 10-15 minute visit to a territory, so it all seems good. I am hopeful that the Boarhill birds finally extend past Fairmont this year and reach Kinkell. Amongst the corn buntings I also bumped into my first sedge warbler of the year singing at Boarhill’s pond, my first common whitethroat of the year and my first blackcap for the Crail year list. More swallows and house martins too, and at least 4, maybe 6 northern wheatears in a loose flock at Lower Kenly. The winds are easterly just now (hence the haar) and with a bit of rain we might expect some more (perhaps more exotic as well) migrants in over the next few days.
A newly arrived northern wheatear putting on a brave face for our spring weather (John Anderson). It will have been experiencing 45 degrees centigrade just ten days ago in the Sahel.
This week there have been flocks of migrant golden plover passing through. We have golden plovers here with us all winter, with a flock of 200-300 regularly roosting on the rocky shore at Sauchope or on the old airfield. They tend to drift away during March, suggesting they might be UK breeders. In April the golden plovers that breed in the Highlands are either back on the tops of the hills, or in flocks in the pasture fields below them, waiting for the weather to get a bit better. But in April we then get golden plovers passing through to the northern breeding grounds in Iceland, Scandinavia or Russia. These birds are much more striking than the UK breeding birds, with not just black bellies, but a thick black front to their neck and a completely black face. Much more black and contrasting, so that it is obvious even in a flock flying over at this time of year. I have been seeing flocks of northern golden plovers this week on the airfield next to Kilminning, at Balcomie, and today at Boghall Farm in the big sheep field that runs down to Red Sands. These “goldies” were also uncharacteristically tame – not a thing I associate with our wintering golden plovers – staying put, although alert, in the field as I walked along the coastal path forty meters away. If these birds have been wintering in a quiet part of North Africa, and breed in an equally quiet part of Iceland or Norway, then perhaps they are not worried by people. Golden plover are still legally hunted in the UK and parts of Europe (France, Spain, Italy…) so have a lot to be wary of. Regardless of how many birds are shot and whether this makes no difference to the overall population in the long run – shooting makes birds wary and avoid people. It’s equivalent to a massive reduction in habitat: hunters confine their prey to the margins. A golden plover that has been shot at during its life is not going to be distinguishing between “bad” and “good” humans – they will follow the precautionary principle. The result is inevitably populations with fewer options, and greater energy demands as they keep out of the way of people (and we are more or less everywhere). And of course, not so much fun for those of us that might like to see the birds close up, unworried and on our doorsteps.
Two northern golden plovers at Boghall this morning. These two are still moulting into their full black underparts, but still have their characteristic very black facesThe one on the left is more like a British breeding golden plover, but I think this is just less advanced on its moult and also perhaps a female, that have less black faces
The wind was south-easterly for most of the day, although still cool. I had five swallows before I even left Crail this morning; this evening some of the house martins were back at Roome Bay Avenue. I did the Wormiston – Balcomie – Fife Ness loop this morning: joining the oystercatchers on the beach were a flock of five bar-tailed godwits. Not a hint of summer plumage – their high Arctic breeding season won’t start for another two months. But they were clearly already on their way somewhere. There were also a couple of whimbrel. I had my first northern wheatear of the year at Balcomie. My first arrival dates this year aren’t very significant because of my two week absence, even so early season wheatears are unusual through Crail. They are much more common passage birds in May. Fife Ness was all gannets, kittiwakes, guillemots and razorbills, with the occasional puffin now with them. The breeding season on the Bass Rock and the May Island has started. A single Arctic tern – another first for the year – passed heading north, moving quickly with the wind behind it. I hope this year they will breed successfully on the May Island after the likely bird flu desertion of the colony last year.
Four of the five bar-tailed godwits stopping at Balcomie Beach this morning. The right hand bird is a male and the second to right bird a female – they have longer bills and are bit bigger.
There were more migrants in today. The month is getting on and even with the chill easterly today, there is a certain momentum that will bring the birds north regardless. I am now seeing barn swallows lots of places, with breeders back in Crail and at the airfield. I had some sand martins passing high over Lower Kilminning this morning. I could hear them singing their scratchy song although I barely saw them. And my first willow warbler of the year, singing beautifully from the still leafless trees at Upper Kilminning.
Willow warbler – fresh in this year (John Anderson)
The cold weather has continued but at least the sun has appeared in the last two days. I finally had some barn swallows today – although I went down to Balcomie this morning in search of them, they came to me. I had three passing through my garden this afternoon – hurrying north in the same frantic fashion as they did in Nigeria last week. Despite the swallows appearance it is still very quiet. No other migrants today, except for a couple of whimbrel on Balcomie Beach. They really stood out – the only waders around apart from the ever present oystercatchers. Late April is the emptiest time on the shore around Crail. Even the curlews and redshanks have gone off to breed somewhere in Scotland or Iceland. The far north breeding waders that have been wintering in Africa will pass through later in May and even early June, but at the moment the shore is relatively quiet.
One of the two whimbrels on Balcomie Beach this morning. After a winter of curlews the first whimbrel stands out as a much stockier, compact bird
I have been away in Nigeria. I swopped 40 degrees on Friday afternoon in Abuja with 6 degrees in Crail this morning. I have been surrounded by migrants on their way north to Europe for the last two weeks, but today I could only manage a sandwich tern passing Kilminning and three white wagtails with the pieds on the driving range at Balcomie. No sign of any sand martins at Balcomie, and no barn swallows. It has been unremittingly cold since I left with my weather station in Crail reporting less than ten degrees most days, so most migration up here has slowed down. In contrast, it was very busy in Africa, with flocks of barn swallows and European bee-eaters passing over every day; pied and spotted flycatchers everywhere; willow, wood, common whitethroat and icterine warblers passing through, with occasional pulses of whinchats, common redstarts and tree pipits; and every so often something a bit more unusual: a honey buzzard, European hobby and early one morning a purple heron perched in a 40 meter gallery forest tree, roosting safely between migration legs, kilometers from any water. And these were just the species heading for Europe, aiming to get to their final breeding site by the start of May. Mid-April is the onset of the rains in central Nigeria, and so intra-African migrants were on the move too, to time their arrival at their breeding grounds with the first flush of insects, just as the European migrants do, although they follow temperature rise rather than rainfall. Several species of African cuckoo, and Africa’s rain bird, Abdim’s stork, appeared during my stay after a burst of heavy rain, followed by a huge flush of termites. They joined pallid and common swifts, house martins and swallows, that stopped migrating for the day, to fuel up at an incredible rate. The next morning they were all gone. The distinction between European and African migrants is a false one: they are all African migrants tracking seasonal resources at a continental level, just some cross the Mediterranean and join us. Well, when the temperature gets high enough.
Two African migrant species – top, European bee-eaters taking a break on their journey from somewhere like Angola to somewhere like France, following the temperature, and bottom a violet-backed starling on its way from southern Nigeria to northern Nigeria, following the rains.
Small beginnings of the meadow on the tarmac at Kilminning
The low temperatures here have also been inhibiting plant growth – the new wildflower meadow we seeded at Kilminning on the 31st March has just started to germinate. This morning, there were very tiny plants everywhere, pushing out of the still very bare looking soil. I am glad I have been away – I would have lost faith if I had been checking every day. But it is starting to happen now, and with just a few warm days it should start to take off. With the swallows coming back as well I hope.
I just received this drone photo of Kilminning from Harry Bell. Puts it all into perspective. This will be what the waders see as they fly over Fife Ness now. Hopefully it will tempt them down. From this angle and without the vegetation yet it looks a lot like an African dry season water hole. This is just the kind of muddy pool where you find a whole range of waders such as wood sandpipers, little or temmincks stints, little ringed plovers, greenshanks, ruff and so on all over Africa. There would also be a hippo and a corcodile or two – but I suspect that is being a little optimistic for the East Neuk.
A bird’s eye view of the new Kilminning today (Harry Bell)
I was hoping for a barn swallow or a sand martin this morning as I did the Wormiston – Balcomie – Kilminning loop this morning. Migration was certainly happening. There was a small flock of goldcrests busily feeding on the ground at Upper Kilminning, fueling up for their next migration leg, and flocks of meadow pipits in most of the fields, doing the same. There was a chiffchaff singing. But no swallows as yet. There were a few red throated divers on the sea from Fife Ness, occasionally a new bird passing would spot them and drop down to join them. Some in summer plumage, with their red throats looking dark and blackish unless seen well. A single great northern diver flew past Crail at lunchtime, also in (or nearly in) summer plumage. It was heading east and then I suppose North after it rounded Fife Ness, heading up to the sub-Arctic to breed. There are lots of ways great northerns stand out, but today my attention was initially drawn by the bird looking like an odd cormorant, and then through binoculars that it was a big diver with a dark and heavy head. But no sign of big feet, which usually stick out behind as prominently as the head does in front. I took some photos and when blown up, the big feet were there, just not obvious in many of the photos because of the angle of view put them in front of the dark wings. A good lesson in using a variety of characters to identify something – the big feet usually clinch a great northern diver for me, but not so much today.
One of the migrant goldcrests fueling up at Kilminning this morning
This afternoon I was walking down my garden when I saw two waders flying fast along the coast, high above the gardens of Nethergate. Very long straight bills, big white wing bars – black-tailed godwits. Always a good species to get on the Crail year list and now number 144 on my garden list. There were curlews passing over Crail on migration as well this afternoon.
Yesterday and overnight we had 17mm of rain. A lot of rain. There was a barn owl reported in daylight just outside of Crail this morning. They can’t hunt during wet nights so this bird must have been a very hungry bird, having to brave the buzzards. We are over 50mm for the month making it less wet than the last 6 months, but still a lot of rain. The trend is down though – April should be dryer and then that is the end of the wet season. Well, we shall see. I was worried about the possible water levels and overtopping at Kilminning, but this afternoon there was just a gentle flow into the new marsh and burn. I lowered the final water level by about 12cm anyway so that we can strengthen the overspill area on Sunday. A (the) pair of mallards flew in to land on the new pond as I left it. There were a couple of chiffchaffs calling at Kilminning, but otherwise it was cold and very unspring like.
Still the only waterbirds I have seen on the new pond at Kilminning – probably the same pair of mallards as two weeks ago
I had my first chiffchaffs on the Crail patch this morning. Two along the lower bit of the Kenly Burn and then a third in the middle of Kingsbarns. I have had them all week in St Andrews with my first on the 18th. This is reasonably early, or extremely early compared to forty year ago. Mid-March rather than late March is now the norm for their arrival. I was walking the loop from Kingsbarns to Kenly Water along the coast and then back inland via Pitmilly. I was hoping to connect with a snow bunting reported from the 21st in the sheep field between the Drony Road and Red Sands. Looking for a snow bunting in a big field of half-eaten brown and white turnip fragments was a tricky ask and I didn’t succeed. There were a lot of skylarks and starlings among the sheep though. At Lower Kenly there were the usual ducks – a few teal, mallard, wigeon and a red-breasted merganser – and the usual greenshank.
Teal at Kenly Water (the bay where the burn meets the sea, just south of Boarhills). There are two mallards back left, showing well just how small teal are
As the proper spring approaches, I have been thinking about the coming corn bunting season. This morning I had a walk around Kingsbarns to show some students, who will also be working on them, how the research works. Perhaps not the best day for an induction – the corn buntings were keeping their heads down in the light drizzle. We had a couple of singing birds – but the desultory, quiet kind of singing that they do when their heart is not in it. They do this early in the season or when they are sitting watching their nests with females sitting on eggs, with not much to do. One bird gave up after a bit and flew from where there is normally a territory, just to the west of Kingsbarns, all the way over to the Drony Road or even Boghall farm a couple of kilometers away. It summed up the situation for corn buntings in March. Some birds will make a small effort to stake out their territories, but breeding is at least two months away, so they are easily distracted back into the wintering feeding flocks. Watching these birds does give an idea of their mobility. They may be stay at homes with tiny territories in the summer, but in winter they easily range over kilometers, and probably all over the East Neuk. This winter I have no idea where the big winter flocks are. I haven’t bumped into any larger than about 50. Perhaps they haven’t clustered so much because the wet weather has made foraging in such large flocks unprofitable? But the 200 square kilometers of their current range is a big area to hide in. It would be great to cover the ground during the winter as well as the summer and find out what makes corn buntings tick then. I wouldn’t have any time to do anything else though. Even if the corn buntings weren’t singing, the earlier nesting skylarks and the yellowhammers were singing a lot, and the whole walk felt birdy. There was also at least one twite in the sheep field next to the Drony Road.
Corn bunting singing along the Drony Road at Kingsbarns
I lowered the water level a bit in the pond at Kilminning on the 17th to see what happens with the over topping. Although restoring the water flow above the ground to reinstate the burn is intended, the rate of bank erosion is probably unsustainable (over the decades of life I hope for it before any major intervention might be needed). A simple bit of clay piping on the lowest bit of the pond rim will do the job. It is still very wet of course, with March being unusually rainy – March is usually one of our dryest months – so adjusting levels for the summer is a bit of a guess. The pond scored some new wildlife this week – a practicing fly fisherman (surely the most optimistic fisherman in Fife), and a wild swimmer (who reported it as not a great place to swim unless you are a duck).
Restoring the burn to Kilminning and creating a wetland downstream from the pond. The brown matting on the spillway, visible in the top of the photo is put there to allow the water to leave the pond with minimal erosion, before vegetation establishes itself to do the job properly. When the new burn is established we can put decent stepping stones across, or a bridge.
There have been chiffchaffs popping up in Fife over the last week with quite a few reported today. The weather is getting milder and the winds are light south-easterly. Perfect for spring migrants. That said, there were no chiffchaffs today in Denburn, upper and lower Kilminning or The Patch, in the morning or later in the afternoon. And the black redstart was nowhere to be seen around Roome Bay. It is not always 100% reliable but I had a good go – I think it has finally gone, off to breed somewhere in central Europe. The grey wagtails have gone from the beach too, and I haven’t seen one around Crail for ten days. They won’t have gone to Europe, but will have moved inland to breed. They might be able to make do with Crail rooftops, but our local burns, that they need for breeding, are all mostly underground. Chiffchaffs notwithstanding, spring is cranking on. The gannets are back in good numbers now. You can count double figures at any one time when scanning the sea. All week there has been a steady passage of kittiwakes, razorbills and common gulls heading north (although kittiwakes often south) to their breeding grounds. And I have got frog spawn in my pond now. I counted 21 clumps. There will be more under the water, which is a bit cloudy not helping detectability. 21 clumps is roughly equivalent to 21 laying females – and perhaps double what I had last year.
Not the world’s most interesting photo to look at, but the 11 or so clumps of frog spawn here are definitely exciting. Hundreds of tadpoles to come.
Wild Crail 