A combination of post Costa Rica adventure hangover and the feeling that I’m going to get wet rot every time I leave the house in this truly vile weather has made UK birding feel like a real slog so far this year. A sodden trip to the New Forest on Wednesday did nothing to lift my spirits. I did see my main target species, Firecrest, but they were wisely keeping as dry as they possibly could within their favoured Holly habitat making views less satisfactory than on previous visits. The rest of the day was pretty much a sodden write off with most birds hiding from the cold downpours.
There has been a rare American Bufflehead hanging around the Welsh coast for a few weeks which I had toyed with going to see. My experience of twitching rare ducks somewhere on a vast blank sea canvas is, to say the least, a depressing one so I had decided this one was not for me. When presumably the same bird relocated to a small lake on Anglesey the prospect of twitching it became far more attractive. So, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I set off on the 380 mile round trip to deepest Wales after it was reported on Thursday. I looked at the forecast which indicated a break in the rain for a few hours that afternoon but why I bother with even looking at the forecast I simply don’t know as it is more often wrong that right, force of habit I suppose.
My spirits sank even lower as it poured down all the way up the motorway and on to Bangor, why was I putting myself through this again? Remarkably, and is if by magic, it stopped raining when I got to the Mendi straights and stayed that way until it started again when I crossed the bridge back onto mainland Wales some three hours later.
After a couple of wrong turns I found the lake called Llyn Coron. My map indicated footpaths on both sides of the lake. The Bufflehead had been reported as being on the south side so I found a small layby and made my way down towards the southern path. The footpath seemed to end at a small stone cottage but the owner appeared and helpfully pointed me in the right direction past a rusty gate. I soon had a clear view over the lake and set my scope up. There were small flocks of Goosander, a few Goldeneye, and a large flock of winter wildfowl on the lake but no sign of the Bufflehead. I walked along the lakeside path but the views were always obscured so I made my way back to the original viewing spot and there, low and behold, was the Bufflehead in the middle of the lake. It was spending a lot of time underwater which is presumably why I did not pick it up on my first attempt scanning the lake.
I’ve discussed the authenticity of truly wild rare birds visa v escapes from captivity many times before. This issue is perhaps at its greatest with attractive ducks such as the Bufflehead which is widely kept in ornamental collections. In essence, the only way of knowing the origin of such a bird with one hundred percent certainly is if it was either ringed within its wild distribution range or an isotopic analysis of a sample indicates that it has been there. After that you are into some further objective criteria, has it a collectors ring, does it show signs of being wing clipped, or much more subjective criteria, is it confiding, is its location consistent with a vagrant, is it associating with known carrier species etc.
I checked and to the end of 2022 there are 19 records accepted as true wild birds by the powers to be. I’m guessing that this one, given its location and lack of signs of a captive origin, stands as good chance as any of being accepted so I was happy to tick it as my 432nd UK bird.
The Bufflehead is a small sea duck which breeds in Alaska and Canada migrating to the southern states of the USA for the winter. Adult males are striking black and white, with iridescent green and purple heads and a large white patch behind the eye. Females are grey toned with a smaller white patch behind the eye and a light underside. The Welsh bird was a very attractive male.
Now there is an effect that I like to call the Farmoor effect. When you view a bird distantly on inland water it always appears to be closer to the opposite shore but In truth it rarely is! After taking a few record shots and getting good scope views , I hence relocated to the opposite bank where it actually was a little closer. It was still spending much of its time underwater feeding but, as the light started to fade, it took to the wing giving me some excellent scope flight views before it disappeared to the far end of the lake. This seemed an appropriate time to leave in an infinity better and upbeat state of mind than when I left home. Good views and a Uk tick of a rare bird never fails to do that for me, so much better and more effective than prescription antidepressants!
Footnote – my blogs are posted with sometimes rather imaginative spelling and grammar due to my extreme dyslexia!
Comments
Post a Comment