Thank heavens for Orchids! Given two recent days respite from what must be the most dismal mild, wet late-winter and early-spring in living memory, I have ventured out again to observe local wildlife that doesn’t involve the same old, same old. And this botanical interest appears to have appreciated the relentless wet weather rather more than myself. I didn’t include the renowned site of this post in my debut Orchid agenda last year as I had been there in the past and everything else was new. But when I read the local specialty was blooming, for the sake of evolution in this second season I went to take another look.

Nationally scarce Lady and Monkey Orchids both occurred on a chalk hilltop above the north bank of the Oxon Thames until 2006 (see here), at which time they hybridised. Nowadays the prize is to identify pure specimens of each species amongst the great majority of continually developing hybrid forms. In 2023 there were just two pure Lady Orchids here and around 10 of the smaller, later Monkey Orchid. These images (below) are my only past records of each, from Provence in 2016 (left) and Hartslock itself a year later (right).

The two species readily hybridise when they coincide, as I also experienced in les Cévennes, France in May 2016 (see here). On what became a pleasant, sunny morning on 1st I walked out a mile or so from Goring-on-Thames along Gatehampton Road to the Hartslock Reserve entrance (RG8 0EP, SU 616796 – see here). There is no parking there. Continuing steeply uphill and through the right hand gate of two, upon reaching a taped-off enclosure I gasped out loud. There was a profusion of fine looking Orchids on the slope above, that by their size had clearly enjoyed recent soggy conditions. Almost all, as far as I could tell were hybrids, such as occur only at this place nationally.

The darker red item (left and centre) in the pictures below was the one true Lady Orchid I picked out. The right hand picture (courtesy of Ian Lewington) is from the site two years ago, for comparison. This is a distinctive and stately plant, from 30 – 80 cm tall, in which up to 200 deep red and white flowers per spike resemble a little figure wearing an old fashioned lady’s bonnet and polka-dotted ball gown. It favours short grassland on woodland edges, as at this location, and sometimes grows in open woodland. The species has now vanished from most of it’s historic British range. It is now confined to just a few sites in Kent and here.

The one or two of this rarity that remain at Hartslock do not self-pollinate and so struggle to produce more of their own kind. Some of the hybrids, also known as “Lankey Orchids” in the following sequence were more ladylike than others, but the true difference is in the colouring. That is to say the bonnets might be there but they are pink rather than wine-coloured. These plants are much larger than either of the pure forms, and some of the flower stems were very densely packed. All these subjects were close enough to record with my 300mm telefoto from outside the enclosure. There is no need to step inside, as visitors are requested not to do.

Lady x Monkey Orchids (all images)

Going into more detail now, to quote the Hartslock warden’s own web site (see here), these Lady x Monkey hybrids have the following mix of features:

• the lip shape is like Monkey orchid but the legs are thicker
• the hood is strongly speckled (like Lady Orchid) with a deep purple colour (like the lip colour of a Monkey Orchid). The hood of both Monkey and Military Orchids is most often very pale (almost white) with streaks of purple scattered sparsely across the surface
• flowering period was 5 days after the Lady Orchids and 1 week before the bulk of the Monkeys
• the hybrids are much larger and more vigorous than the normal Monkey Orchid and much closer in form to the Lady Orchid
• flowers open from the bottom up as in Lady Orchid – not top down like the Monkey Orchid
• foliage is lush and bushy, like the Lady Orchid but is a grey-green, like the Monkey Orchid

Hartslock is one of only three British Monkey Orchid sites. I am hoping the blurry image below is an emergent specimen, and will be back to check that out soon.

To be continued …

I have heard of this post’s subject all my life. It was listed in the first books on British wildlife I read as a child, as in all such guides ever since; but how does one go about actually setting eyes upon Natterjack Toad? Great Britain’s scarcest amphibian is said to occur currently at up to 60 sites, mostly coastal sand dune systems, grazing marshes and sandy heaths; many of which are not generally accessible. It is largely nocturnal, concealing itself in shallow burrows through the daylight hours. Spawning occurs in April, when starting at dusk males maintain a night-long rasping chorus to attract females, and only the loudest succeed. And as a highly protected species, disturbing them in any way and unlicensed picture taking are illegal.

Given all those constraints, the only reliable way of connecting is by joining a licensed, guided walk. These are at present offered by Cheshire Wildlife Trust on the Dee Estuary (see here), the National Trust at this post’s location (here) and the RSPB at it’s Mersehead reserve in Dumfries and Galloway (here). All are expertly led, and the responsible use of torches and cameras is permitted. Of those north-western options the second most suited my own current part-time working schedule. It would be a long way to go, but this is something that had to be done if I am to record the remaining difficult Herpetora amongst other national wildlife I still need.

My locale of choice supports one fifth of the British Natterjack population at five different sites on Cumbria’s Duddon estuary. Sandscale Haws NNR (LA14 4QJ – SD 200756 see here) is an outstanding sand dune habitat (pictured above) containing around 40 shallow, seasonal breeding pools. In the event the logistics and expense of this exercise proved to be favourable. With searching online the return rail fare from Banbury to Lancaster was a mere £70 (surely less than the petrol cost), and from there an hourly local service runs to Barrow. Parking in Banbury, a £50 room to put my head down in overnight, and a local taxi fulfilled the trip agenda for less than £175. What was there not to like?

Hence the appointed evening found me striding out from Dalton-in-Furness rail station, around three miles to my destination. By some time after 7:30 pm a dozen participants had gathered to be briefed by our NT ranger hosts. Then we were led out into the 3000 year old dune system, and its dynamics were explained to us. For myself, in the failing light the setting seemed both that primeval and evocative in equal measure, and I felt glad to have taken the opportunity to be here. This was an interesting experience.

At what was cited as a likely dune slack pool we were shown spawn and tiny black tadpoles. Spawn is laid in 1 – 2 metre long strings, with just one row of eggs per string. Then we waited for the fabled Natterjack chorus to commence … and waited longer … but it didn’t happen. There was just the sound of drumming Snipe and occasional quacks of Mallard, and I began to feel disheartened. Males can be quite mobile between different pools, depending on where the females might go. So the decision was taken to check two other locations, and on we all tramped, torches in hand in the dark.

On the way to the first stop a faint though intermittent chorus became audible from the pool ahead, and one of the rangers went in to look things over. She emerged again a little further on to say she had found one male toad, and in we all went. Scanning again by flashlight our guide relocated it, which seemed quite amazing to me, though she was well practiced. Proof perhaps of the likely futility of searching for such things unaided. I was one of the first to reach the specimen in question.

This male Natterjack Toad (pictured above) seemed small to me but was apparently an adult. They are indeed somewhat smaller and shorter-limbed than Common Toads, normally around 6-8 cm in length. There is a prominent bright yellow stripe down the centre of the back, and males have a bluish or purple throat. Colouring is otherwise brownish, grey or olive-green, and the skin is covered in red and yellow warts. The lead ranger then lifted our quest from the pool edge to present it to the group. Both of our hosts are licensed to do that. It is strictly forbidden for the general public to handle or otherwise disturb these creatures in any way, and visitors to Sandscale Haws are requested not to enter the pools.

The sighting gained was mission accomplished. We next moved on to the nearest pool to the reserve entrance (pictured above), from within which a louder chorus was rising. When we got there it stopped and we could not locate any more subjects. Things it seemed were quite fickle on this evening of my intent. It was now 10:15 pm and mindful of the booked taxi to take me into Barrow for the night, I left the group at this point. Two other torches had also been searching out the collective quest from other points around the pool.

The most notable British Natterjack populations now range from Merseyside through the Cumbrian coast to the Solway Firth, but this amphibian was formerly resident on Surrey and Hampshire heaths, and also around the coast of East Anglia. In each of those southern locations very few colonies now remain, though re-introduction schemes are in progress. My original plan had focused on Norfolk, within which Winterton Dunes NNR (TG496201) held a major colony, but no breeding has occurred since 2018. Just two individuals were recorded there in 2022 and none at all in 2023. At NWT Holme Dunes (PE36 6LQ – TF714449), where they were introduced in the 1970s, the local chorus is said to be audible from the sea wall at Thornham harbour; but there is no guided access. That left the inland site of Syderstone Common (PE31 8SE – TF834318) near King’s Lynn, but when the time came the nocturnal task seemed just too daunting.

The eventual longer-range exercise I opted for, described herein was far more difficult even than I had imagined. I am a little disappointed the occasion yielded just a single sighting, and more so with the chorus itself. Having read in advance that it starts at dusk and continues all night, being audible up to 2 km away, it actually began much later at around 9:30 pm, seeming fainter and sporadic. But hey, I have now done Natterjacks and a lifetime’s wildlife ambition has been realised.

The reserve of this post is one of the best locations in Spain for observing the endangered (BirdLife International 2004) White-headed Duck. I had recorded just three of these previously, two females in Turkey (July 2019) and a lone drake, briefly elsewhere in Spain (Sep 2022). For this first foreign trip of 2024, gaining a better experience of the strange looking Stifftail was thus the top birding priority.

There are three lagoons, all overlooked by viewing screens at this major wetland that lies just south of the city of Málaga. The best for birding, especially in passage seasons is Laguna Grande, at which on the morning of 21st I was told several of my quest were showing on the smaller Laguna Escondida a little to the north. When I got there a female was positioned fairly close to the screen, then I picked out three drake White-headed Duck in bright light at the far end of the lagoon. These moved gradually down towards the female and all became attentive upon her, though on receiving no encouragement drifted away again. I had thus connected at just the right time for the picture opportunity that follows. A day later on 22nd I counted seven drakes at the far end of the same lagoon.

WHD has a fragmented distribution, with small, resident clusters in Spain, Algeria and Tunisia; and a larger, mainly migratory population in the eastern Mediterranean and Asia. By the 1970s, the Spanish contingent was close to extinction due to habitat destruction and degradation, and particularly hunting. In1977 just 22 individuals remained at a single site in Córdoba province. Then from 1979, crucially following the prohibition of hunting in WHD’s Andalucían strongholds, a highly successful conservation programme was initiated. Other significant measures included removal of introduced fish, control of pollution and sedimentation, and regeneration of fringing vegetation.

Hence WHD’s presence began to recover, and the species gradually expanded into the adjoining Andalucían provinces of Sevilla, Cádiz and Huelva. By 1988, numbers exceeded 400 birds, and breeding spread further into the provinces of Almería and Toledo. Then with effective protection from illegal hunting the chief threat to WHD’s long-term survival was deemed to be hybridization with introduced north American Ruddy Duck.

It was the British feral Ruddy Duck population’s predilection for steaming down here on lads’ weekends, to convert the newly available White-headed females after their own fashion, that prompted the highly controversial culling of the former nationally. To put things more accurately, Ruddy Duck began to appear in Spain and hybridize with the closely related native Stifftail in the early 1990s. At that time the British population, descended from birds first introduced in the 1940s, was expanding rapidly to peak at around 6000 in the early noughties.

EU research supported by the UK and Dutch governments deemed it necessary to eradicate the alien to ensure WHD’s survival as a distinct species in Europe (see here). In Great Britain, where most of the former occurred, that process was 95% completed by 2010. France followed suit and very few Ruddy Duck now remain in Belgium and Holland too. On 1 January 2015 EU Invasive Alien Species (IAS) regulation 1143/214 came into force whereby Ruddy Duck cannot be imported, kept, bred, transported, sold or exchanged, allowed to reproduce, or released into the environment in Europe.

This remains a very emotive issue amongst British birders. I myself am not a great IAS advocate and prefer not to judge. Spanish White-headed Duck numbers have continued to grow to around 2500. In its home range of north America Ruddy Duck maintains a stable population of around half a million birds, compared with 10,000 White-headed worldwide.

From Laguna Escondida I moved on to the third lagoon where I was initially excited to self-find two Marbled Duck (pictured above). This second item of conservation concern had until recently been cited as Spain’s rarest duck. It was once abundant in Mediterranean coastal wetlands, and especially in Doñana where I first failed to find it in 2012. But by 2020 Spain had become the only remaining refuge in Europe, with just 74 breeding pairs and falling. Habitat loss and degradation were once more the greatest threats as wetlands suffered the impacts of drainage for agriculture, pollution, proliferation of artificial barriers and other man-made threats. Re-introduction schemes at wetlands such as GRMNP are now reversing the decline.

On attempting to get closer I stumbled upon what was clearly one such project, administered by Life Cerceta Pardilla (see here). I then noticed a way down to a hiding place at the water’s edge, large enough for just one person, where the following pictures were taken. I felt sure I should not really be there, but there was plenty of evidence that people do go when the park rangers’ backs are turned. The birds, if aware of my presence were completely unconcerned by it, swimming up and down repeatedly at close quarters without taking fright.

Marbled Duck (all images)

Checking with a patch worker back at Laguna Grande, I was told the spot I had just found was common knowledge amongst informed local birders. Then on reading things up I learned that 25 ducklings were released here in 2022. On today’s evidence the resultant local population is thriving. These birds are all fitted with GPS collars to track their movements, as the final picture shows. Re-introduced colonies are never as exciting as those such as WHD that have recovered by conservation measures alone.

Black-winged Stilt

Where other birding was concerned, I can never recall having observed so many Black-winged Stilt at one site as here, and at the Laguna Grande screen I was able to add some reasonable pictures (above) to my collection. I have always found them difficult birds to capture well. On 26th I also took an opportunity to gain some studies of Cattle Egret on horseback (below).

Cattle Egret

The only lifer gained was the ubiquitous Monk Parakeet. There are huge numbers of this South American IAS in Spain, especially in cities, and they are well established along the Costa del Sol. I actually rather liked them and find them more attractive than the Ring-necked Parakeets that now roost nightly in East Oxford. But I can imagine for people living amongst them, and especially if there might be one of their large communal nests outside an apartment window, their constant screeching must become irritating. Indeed the national colonisation is attributed to 1970s pet owners becoming sick of the sound of their imported Parrots and so releasing them into the outdoors. Cue an estimated current population of around 200,000.

Monk Parakeets (above) and Whiskered Tern (below)

(click to enlarge)

The bird list for this trip in so far as I paid attention (with notables in bold) was: Little Grebe, Cormorant, Little Egret, Cattle Egret, Grey Heron, Glossy Ibis, White Stork, Spoonbill, Greater Flamingo, Mallard, Garganey, Shoveler, Marbled Duck, Shelduck, Pochard, White-headed Duck, Osprey, Kestrel, Moorhen, Common Coot, Ringed Plover, Kentish Plover, Dunlin, Sanderling, Common Sandpiper, Green Sandpiper, Greenshank, Redshank, Avocet, Black-winged Stilt, Collared Pratincole, Yellow-legged Gull, Mediterranean Gull, Slender-billed Gull, Black-headed Gull, Whiskered Tern, Sandwich Tern, Feral Pigeon, Collared Dove, Monk Parakeet*, Woodlark, Swallow, Pied Wagtail, Spotless Starling, Cetti’s Warbler, Zitting Cisticola, Sardinian Warbler, Blackbird, Greenfinch, Goldfinch, Spanish Sparrow and hybrids.

Seven Collared Pratincole are hidden in this one (click to enlarge)

I was in no way attempting to build a bird list, these were just what I noticed without looking too hard. That is because my motivation for this trip arose out of wishing to experience one of the earliest butterflies of any Mediterranean season. Despite the name and my own liking for its region of southern France, my research suggested Provence Hairstreak is actually much more likely within the Iberian peninsula, and especially around Málaga.

They are also said to fly within the Guadalhorce Park, but things were not to be and so I have concluded converting them must be far more difficult than I had imagined. I would never normally have gone to Spain in March to do butterflies, but that is when this must-see lifer flies. There was an untold quantity of habitat in which they might be concealed, and on the three days out of six that produced partial butterfly-friendly weather I just could not locate any. Others of any kind were very few and far between.

The second reason for the three day gap in this post’s title is that on Saturday morning (23rd) I was struck down by a viral condition. The “two bob bits” Spanish style is no fun at all and I would not wish to meet El Montezuma again any time soon. So this otherwise not proper trip was saved by the quite reasonable Mediterranean birding recounted above, which had always been the contingency plan.

My motivation for local birding is currently at an all time low, unless something new and different thrusts itself outward, but it would hardly be credible to have gone through the current winter without observing any Waxwings. The well-documented, national Scandinavian berry bandit invasion took its time to reach my home county (see here), but there have been frequent and widespread sightings through this year’s first two months. I myself dipped them three times until this morning, when I was at last successful.

The issue with these birds in my view is they are difficult to twitch, being most usually mobile around wide feeding circuits. In other words, once you get there they’ve gone. I have been occupied with other interests and extra work shifts recently, and so have not found the time or urge to wait around in residential settings for them to come round again. With the hopefully more reliable groups I carefully selected, first I failed to connect in January with one just outside Thame; then another in north Oxford, close by Port Meadow. More recently a nine-strong flock has been reported fairly regularly by my birding colleague Andy and others in two locations in north Abingdon. I failed to find them again at the first attempt, but somehow felt lucky on this cold and clear morning.

My hunch about today proved to be not unfounded. Walking away from my car at the junction of Dunmore Road and Parsons Mead, close to where I lived for 14 years between 1986 and 2000, I saw a photographer on the far side of what had then been Abingdon’s northern outer ring road. His lens was trained upon a Poplar tree top by a football pitch, where a second local colleague, Sally had connected with the Waxwings a day earlier. He was clearly onto my quest and I went over to join him. Soon the birds flew back to another tree top at that road junction where they had been reported most often.

Cue WhatsApps or calls to Oxon Birding administrator Badger, Andy, Sally and Ewan. For around 30 minutes I then watched these birds descend at intervals onto Hawthorn hedges on the opposite side of Dunmore Road. This was clearly by now a diminishing food source, which explains why at this late stage of winter Waxwings are so much more difficult to locate in one place. All the while these delightful visitors’ distinctive and evocative trills would emanate from the air overhead.

During the previous comparable Waxwing winter just over 10 years ago I was still doing mail order deliveries, and being out and about around Oxford each day, such trills would reveal Waxwings here and there without my having to go out specifically to look for them. My possibly most satisfying past encounter of all was in 2003 when the same sound announced a single bird in the south Oxford village suburb of Kennington, again whilst delivering parcels during what was not a Waxwing winter at all. Today’s birds at length moved on and I relocated to the nearby Aldi for this morning’s second purpose.

Having acquired a completely up-to-date computer with part of my albeit modest recent income from investments and part-time employment, I am now starting to find my way around, amongst other things Nikon’s current, free NX Studio picture editing download. It is much more advanced than what came on disc with the old technology SLRs I prefer. I never could get my head around Adobe Photoshop.

On reviewing my pictorial results, I found I had gained the type of berry in beak study (lead picture, above) that photographers prefer. I am not a photographer, preferring to style myself a wildlife enthusiast who takes pictures, but that one is still pleasing. The others posted herein are not close-ups, given my own equipment, but I feel they have context in conveying how I encountered these very attractive, visiting birds of the moment today. And my own sought experience for this English ‘Waxwing winter’ was thus complete.

February has been an exceptionally mild weather month this year in Blighty. Narcissi and Primroses are currently resplendent in my park home garden, alongside the usual earliest season Snowdrops and Crocuses. And when I was tipped off that the only Giant Orchid colony nationally is now viewable in my home county, I at once accepted the invitation to be guided there again.

I am not authorised to reveal this site’s location herein, but understand it is now generally known within informed Orchid circles. On 20th we found two plants in bloom and three more that were either on their way or blind. A year ago (see here) early spring was especially wet, not that current conditions are much less so. I had hoped this second, earlier experience might produce larger subjects, but that was not how things turned out. Here (below) are the pictorial results from my first visit.

The site is dangerously steep, and being asthmatic I found clambering around it more difficult than a year ago, even though my own condition has improved since then. Perhaps I am just getting a bit too old for all this. That day’s probably fitter companion, four years my senior, might possibly endorse the sentiment. But still we had to be there, to the puzzled glances and occasional attempts to engage of walkers along the top of the perilous slope. With mission accomplished we agreed it to be, however strenuous still easier than trying to connect with winter Waxwings around our county; since Orchids keep still, always show well when in bloom, and do not after being reported then absent themselves for much of the day.

Having made a first reconnoitre we left feeling these rare Orchids were some way from their peak, and might stand some waiting before warranting a second visit. I returned on 28th alone, since Ewan had sustained an injury. This time I was joined in the nearest car park by fellow Oxon naturalist David Hastings, who was visiting here for the first time. I felt glad of company given the treacherous nature of our destination.

When we reached it I edged down the slope on my backside, having come equipped with waterproof over-trousers for that purpose. About two-thirds of the way down there were now four Giant Orchid either in bloom or bud. The first specimen from eight days earlier (above left) was perhaps a little better developed, while the second was still largely as we had recorded it then. And away to one side were two more, both in bud, the newest of which (above right) was as yet uncaged. Once again and as last winter, these non-native plants all appeared to be receiving quite a battering from the English winter elements.

Getting back up the slope was not easy, and I pretty much crawled on my hands and knees. I prefer to take things slowly and ultra-cautiously like that rather than trying to keep upright, with the risk of slipping and getting injured. Once again I felt the newer specimens would repay inspection after another interval, but in the event could not summon the enthusiasm to make a third visit here.

I will admit to knowing nothing of the first of these two birds prior to one announcing itself in a residential area of the Blackwater port of Maldon six days ago. Being only the third mainland British record and a huge local mega, my first reaction was typically to wait for things to calm down a bit before deciding whether to go. But having worked several extra shifts over the festive period, during which the weather was very wet, I rather wished to hit the road for some welcome spirit cleansing going into the current cold and sunny midwinter week. And with this item’s reliability growing as the frenzy around it lessened over the weekend, it became at just over 100 miles from home the best candidate.

My quest though nominally a “Thrush” is actually a north American Warbler, common within its home range, that to my untrained eye resembles a miniature Redwing without the red bits, or perhaps a larger Pipit. I’ve never been one for plumage topography after all! Recent reports suggested early morning would be the best time to connect, so I headed off shortly before 6am, arriving on site just over two hours later. Viewing was said to have become easier once people learned not to approach the bird’s favoured spot too closely. This being a short distance away from the housing estate of the initial reports, in which visiting twitchers have been urged constantly not to park, my prior concerns over residential birding had dissipated.

Plenty of roadside space was available in a neighbouring industrial area, from where it was a short walk down one side of Heybridge Creek (TL858076), then over a bridge and back up to the twitch site. On my joining one end of the line, the first man there put me onto the Northern Waterthrush (pictured below) foraging busily on one side of the creek before us. So this was an immediate connect. Further along, as expected was Adam (see here) who had stayed overnight locally, not being one for pre-dawn journeys himself, amongst a sizeable gathering of near exclusively male birders.

The object of our attention had been showing well since first light, and continued to do so for around 20 minutes more, working both sides of the creek (pictured below), before flying over our heads into small trees a couple of times, then back in amongst the adjacent houses. Such an early routine had become established over the previous few days, and I along with all those present now had clearly timed things correctly. The habitat and poses in which I observed the Waterthrush were just like in Richard’s excellent image from a day earlier, that he has very kindly allowed me to use. Yesterday the bird re-appeared at roughly two hour intervals through the rest of the morning, but then not again until late afternoon. Today that scenario was largely repeated, plus an early afternoon cameo.

There is some speculation over how long this Nearctic vagrant may have been here unnoticed before visiting the president of the Essex Birdwatching Society’s garden and being announced to the wider green clad optics carrying community. It could have arrived with last September’s un-precedented fall of north American passerines and stayed to over-winter, and there have been more trans-Atlantic storms since.

Northern Waterthrush is largely a ground dwelling species, usually seen near still or stagnant water as today, feeding on insects and other small invertebrates at stream or pond edges. The jizz is characterised by walking not hopping, and constant bobbing of the tail. Warblers such as this spending the winter in the British Isles is by no means without precedent, if they can find suitable habitat with a food source such as the site pictured above must provide.

From Heybridge it was just 12 miles to Abberton Reservoir, where a Nearctic Canvasback duck of unknown provenance has been present since early December. I had not bothered previously due to its likely plasticity, but now attempting the insurance tick made sense to fill more of the day. Things were never going to be as easy as that earlier success. This was one slightly different individual amongst a large and mobile flock of Eurasian Pochard that is now mostly viewed distantly, given the water body’s vastness.

Enquiring in the visitor centre I was advised; with strong, freezing winds blowing east to west through the complex, to check two of it’s more sheltered areas. I drew blank in both, before being informed by a local birder at one end that the carrier Pochards were massed at the other, too far offshore to reliably pick out the interloper. Persisting wasn’t my idea of enjoyment, so I headed home ahead of the evening M25 peak.

Birding is now very much a diminishing return for me, given my self-punishing need for the new and different – or “evolution” – within a distance range and financial constraints. But quality episodes such as the early morning raid of this post, that still at intervals arise, may remain the most motivating wildlife experiences of all. They do keep on coming from time to time. I had never heard of Northern Waterthrush before, it being my 383rd national and 519th WestPal bird … I have now!

Footnote: The Northern Waterthrush remained faithful to the routine described herein until 22nd January. The Canvasback, having last been identified two days prior to my visit, was not reported again until 27th.

Normally I talk about long-term wildlife targets “falling” upon conversion, but that doesn’t seem the most apt phrase in the first instance that follows. I spent this morning in a churchyard that has a reputation in my neighbouring county of Bucks for its variety and scarcity of fungi, especially wishing to observe the site speciality Scarlet Waxcap. Others of that genus were apparent immediately upon walking in, then I noticed something black and white and fairly large close to a boundary hedge.

Walking over and realising what it was I exclaimed: “Oh, you beauty” upon beholding a prime Common Stinkhorn (Phallus impudicus). I keep an eye open for these must-sees every late autumn, and just three previous records to date were gone over, broken and puny in that order. This one (pictured below) was rather more the ticket. And there it was: brooding, moody and almost magnificent in the subdued light of its chosen surroundings.

I say “almost” because maybe nothing conveys the fragility of newly emerged mushrooms and their immediate attack by slugs more than the expanded polystyrene-textured stems of this small group. In that regard today’s around 14 cm tall specimen looks less striking now herein than it did in the field. But the dark olive, slime-covered tip shows it is still young. The partially buried, egg-like ball from which the erect stipe thrust upward was impressive indeed, being at perhaps 8 cm in diameter much more substantial than those of Dog (see here) and Devil’s Fingers (here) stinkhorns I have observed in the past.

This is a not uncommon fungus throughout the British Isles, continental Europe and parts of north America; but being so short lived they are difficult to locate at the pictured stage. Unfortunately, this late in the season there were no flies in attendance to attack and thereby pollinate today’s mildly smelly item as they quickly do, which could explain why the slime or gleba was still intact while the stem was already deteriorating. Dawn is said to be the best time at which to locate Stinkhorns that have burst from their eggs overnight in pristine condition, before either flies or slugs get to work, if you might know where to look for them. Once the gleba has been dispersed the white stipes may persist for several days.

I was very pleased to have stumbled upon this much sought item today. After walking on from the encounter I was engaged with by the vicar, who knows his mushrooms and is well used to mycologists being around the place. The location is Holy Trinity churchyard, Prestwood (HP16 0HJ – SU 874996) where fungi and wild plants survive that occur nowhere else in the region (see here). The site represents a rare remnant of original acid grass heath that was once prevalent on ancient Chiltern commons but almost all destroyed when enclosed in the mid-19th century. Here the combination of no agri-chemical fertiliser or pesticide use, regular mowing and removal of cuttings, creates ideal conditions for what is known as a “Waxcap grassland” in which that group of often diminutive mushrooms flourish. The number of species recorded here puts it amongst the best known sites.

Scarlet Waxcaps, a colourful churchyard speciality

My host now showed me a cluster of Scarlet Waxcap (above left), my original reason for visiting, but they had unfortunately been run over, carelessly by something that had left a tyre mark in the turf. I nonetheless located a few intact specimens here amongst more Waxcap species and other habitat specialists that I do not feel experienced enough to discuss. Scarlet Waxcap (Hygrocybe coccinea), also known as Scarlet Hood is most usually found from September to November on cropped grassland, old lawns, parkland and churchyards with plenty of moss. The caps are 2 to 5cm in diameter and slimy when young, fading from blood red through orange to yellowish from the edge as they age. The stems and gills are similarly brightly toned.

My top target for today had thus been converted, and with the bonus of a truly stonking Stinkhorn this was a memorable foray in an environment that quite literally seemed from a former age. I will definitely be paying more attention to other churchyards and their fungi in the future.

The posts herein on the fruiting cycles of Magpie and Shaggy Inkcaps have both had multiple referrals through the current fungi season. Since the former played its part in stimulating my initial interest in mycology back in 2020 (see here) I have encountered those iconic items year on year, needing to resist the temptation to take more pictures than the many I have already. But I had only recorded the latter once previously when I managed to capture the entire fruiting cycle amongst one cluster in October 2021 (see here).

Alternative common names for this post’s subject are “Shaggy Mane” and “Lawyer’s Wig”. This year I have realised those must apply most aptly to stage three fruits when they are beginning to go over. Things began earlier this autumn when I found a darkly alluring duo (pictured below, centre) at Highmoor Common, Oxon that quite fired my imagination. Then this week on Wednesday (15th), visiting Lane End churchyard (SU 805915) to look for something else, I stumbled upon several Shaggies instead. Three were in the critical stage (outer items) but most were first day fruits, so this could clearly become an opportunity to gain further images of the more striking “barrister’s bad hair day” phase.

I returned to track the group on Thursday afternoon (16th), finding two items with black lower rims to their dissolving caps (below, left and right), but without the more wig-like quality of the Highmoor Common pair. The two barristers on the right of the first sequence were by now part way through summing up their cases (centre below). Some younger fruits had reached prime stage two condition, while more were emerging.

On Friday morning (17th) there was nothing new to record so I made a repeat visit in the afternoon that was very productive. Several Shaggies in the cluster of various sizes had by then reached their third stage that I most wanted to record (top row below and lead picture), while more dissolving fruits offered attractive studies (bottom row below, left and right). In this first serious workout, my new Nikkor all-in-one camera lens with its superior autofocus was performing much better than it’s predecessor.

Stage 3 (above) and 4 (below) Shaggy Inkcaps and a fine stage 2 in Mousells Wood

On 15th I had also found a large stage two specimen in nearby Mousells Wood (SU 789912). Checking things out on my way home on 16th it was still in that prime condition so this was my first port of call on Friday morning (17th). It appeared to be in no hurry, having barely progressed over the two days so far. By late afternoon it was just beginning to turn (second row, centre above). I now wondered if Shaggy’s fruiting cycle might be slower than Magpie, hoping so as I work all day on Saturdays. Alas on Sunday morning (19th) it and a second previously unseen specimen nearby (pictured below) had both collapsed.

The complete fruiting cycle of a quite beguiling, even dramatic mushroom had thus been recorded more graphically than first time around. Mission had likewise been accomplished and this was indeed a quite rewarding repeat visit exercise. As barristers on a bad hair day or otherwise might say: “I rest my case”.

At 48 miles from home this was an obvious British list addition to go for. I had recorded the bird just once before, it being one of my more memorable solo self-finds abroad at a remote location in western Cyprus in April 2012. But when news of one at a permit only reserve in Milton Keynes broke overnight on Tuesday (7th) I chose to wait for things to calm down a bit.

The hide in question would clearly be rammed for the first couple of days, which is not a situation I enjoy. Limited access times for non-members, with a queuing and rota system for viewing were off-putting constraints I didn’t want to deal with. When I twitched two of several available national Spotted Crake in the autumn of 2018 (see here) it was said migratory juveniles if in moult were likely to stick around for a while, so I hoped that would be the case again here.

By Thursday (9th) access had reverted to permit only that were purchasable online. This struck me as very sensible as it might serve to favour serious birders and deter more casual interest, quite apart from generating revenue for reserve upkeep and the work of the Parks Trust (see here) that manages it and other MK open spaces. So I decided to visit on Friday, needing to get out after a week spent mainly at home decorating. Linford Lakes NR (SP842428 – MK14 5AH) is a 37 hectare former gravel pit complex that was established as a wildlife research centre in 1970, and is described as the most bio-diverse site in the area.

I arrived just after 3pm to be greeted by friendly and helpful volunteer stewards, one of whom took me down to the Otter Hide. As we approached some birders came out who said my quest was showing close in. It seemed strange they should be leaving but that of course meant there would be more room inside. All seats were taken, with a few people standing behind and everyone was straining towards a spot in the lakeside vegetation where the Little Crake was said to be. I managed to secure a standing position with a clear view right in the corner of the hide, but couldn’t yet connect.

Amongst the seated birders I picked out Ewan, who had been in place since 7am, and some other familiar faces. Within 15 minutes the bird was called again moving back into view and now I saw it clearly. Then it rose in the air, almost hovering as it flew quite slowly to one side in a very Crake-like pose with legs dangling. This item was thus well and truly ticked for Blighty. Given such a quick conversion and my previous experience in Cyprus it must be a lucky species for me. All Crakes are of course skulkers and there had been long intervals between other observers in the hide getting their pictures.

With the light fading people now began to drift away, while I stayed until 4pm obtaining another brief and more distant sighting. The lateness of this day’s excursion was due to having waited in for delivery of a new camera lens. The 18 – 250mm Sigma baby zoom I have relied on since my previous Nikkor telefoto expired had followed suit earlier in the week. Now for a very reasonable £385 I have acquired a vgc used Nikkor 18 – 300mm all-in-one that should be a superior product. I find such entry level equipment very suitable for gaining this journal’s close-up images of insects, wild plants and fungi; but take it along on bird twitches too and see if I can get anything half decent. The previous three lenses of the last 13 years all jammed eventually, which seems to be their fate.

Little Crake breeds in freshwater wetlands across much of eastern Europe and into western Asia, wintering in north and north-eastern Africa. At 17 – 19cm they are smaller than the more frequent Spotted Crake, with a short greenish bill showing a red base and long wings, green legs with long toes, and a short tail that is barred black and white underneath. Adults have mainly brown upperparts and plain flanks, and juveniles barred flanks compared to the similar Baillon’s Crake. Face and underparts are plain slate grey in males, and buff to whitish in females and juveniles.

This is a scarce vagrant to the British Isles. The Milton Keynes bird, a county first for Bucks also offered a rare opportunity at an inland location. Having bought the permit it would clearly be sensible to come back for more and stay for longer if the Crake lingered. But it was not reported again so as things turned out I was doubly lucky. With this record, my 382nd British bird, I have now observed nationally all three of the wetland Crakes listed in Collins, and also have Corncrake as a heard only record.

Footnote: This twitch raised £3855 for the Parks Trust (see here), £2820 from 141 new site permits and £1035 in cash donations from visiting birders.

I have featured several Amantitae fungi previously in this journal and here is another one. Why such a bias? This genus comprises large, sometimes stately mushrooms that are often easy to recognise and hence I can present them with confidence. The subject of this latest post is no exception.

Back in August I speculated the fungi season might be underway early after such a wet July (see here), but not so as things turned out. There followed an exceptionally mild and dry “Indian summer”, succeeded by a wet late autumn. The result, moving into November is a luxuriant profusion of mushrooms wherever we go to seek them out. Everywhere that is but the Fly Agaric spectacle at North Leigh Common (see here), that for a second year running was wiped out at its peak by West Oxon District Council contractors; I suppose when the job sheet says bracken has to be cut … absolutely mindless!!!

After tracking the Verdigris Agaric through its fruiting cycle in south-east Oxon (see previous post), I switched attention to Oakley Wood (SP612118) in the Bernwood Forest complex of butterfly fame that lies just across the county border around 20 minutes from my home. Here, amongst quantities of Milkcaps, Brittlegills and other unidentified mushrooms stood out even greater numbers of False Deathcap (Amanita citrina – see here). There were dozens of them in the areas closest to the Forestry England car park that I searched, perhaps hundreds or even thousands across the site as a whole.

A frequent Amanita from August to November across much of the British Isles and continental Europe, the Latin name signifies the citreous yellow tinge of the caps. That quality is not easy to capture pictorially in subdued light given the paleness of the subject, but in the field readily distinguishes this mushroom from Parasols (see here) that they superficially resemble. Rather than go into descriptive detail, herewith is more of the fruiting cycle.

As the name suggests this is not an edible mushroom but neither is it seriously toxic like the Deathcap (Amanita phaloides) itself (pictured below), one of my favourite finds when fungi hunting. Simply put if you should be unwise enough to consume one of the latter (see here) you are a goner … end of story … kaput! But the two are readily distinguishable in the field, the dangerous one being slimy and without universal veil fragments on the cap.

Potentially even more alarming is the aptly named Destroying Angel (see here) that a white form of A citrina is also said to resemble. The toxins both the above mentioned beasts contain at first cause severe diarrhoea, nausea and stomach pains. Cruelly the symptoms are said to fade away for a while, tricking the victim into thinking they are recovering. Then they return with a vengeance by when it is almost certainly too late. Kidney and liver failure are already advancing. These ultimate Amanitae have no known antidote, so coma and eventual death are pretty inevitable.

Fortunately the Destroying Angel is mostly found in upland regions so is unlikely to occur in Oxfordshire. I myself have yet to find one anywhere, though there were some similar looking items in Oakley Wood on these two days. Not to worry. I would in any case never consider eating a white wild mushroom. Identifying them as previously noted is an imprecise art. All of the fungi fruiting cycle posts herein have received greatly increased referrals this autumn.