Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus)

Island inhabitant

Hamadryas baboon

(Papio hamadryas)

On Monday 3rd June, as the evening gave in to the shadows, my attention was drawn to the Sanctuary's island, where one of the moorhens travelled the surrounding water, emitting a repetitive single-note call. Usually a bird that shies to the grass curtained banks, it swam into the open, seemingly unconcerned about the unwelcome interest its rowdiness could attract. Its behaviour was sufficiently different for me to conclude that it must have had chicks that had now gone missing. Encouraged by a comparable pair of moorhens I'd seen swimming along the canal with their recently hatched chicks, I had been hoping that the sanctuary-based birds would find similar success. But now it appeared that something was wrong, as the moorhen's call continued with unrelenting desperation.

  The second moorhen emerged from the Island's nearside arc. Lacking the vocal distress of its partner, it too searched the reeds for signs of their young. There are foxes and American mink in the area, as well as buzzards, kites, and grey herons, all of which would gratefully take the chicks as a meal, while there are doubtless many more species of mammals and birds who would not turn away from opportunity.

 Sudden movement in the reeds prompted the vocal moorhen to concentrate its attention on the outer-rim of the water. For a while it seemed there was nothing much to see. The Island draws a lot of activity, with the swallows currently descending on the various invertebrate the water provides. The disturbance could be anything, but then I see it, a moorhen chick reluctant to move from its cover.

  

  It takes a while, but the adult moorhen finally encourages the chick away from the verge, and they swim into the centre of the water together. 

  The relief from distress is momentary, and quickly replaced by the need to keep searching. There are clearly more chicks out there that need finding, and it isn't long before the other adult moorhen encourages a second from the opposite bank.

  The family huddled together. I could not see the birds allowing the chicks to wander from their sides, but it proves to be the parents who again move away, the pull to find more chicks seemingly too strong. The two found chicks are left taking comfort from each other, and this is how I must leave them. They evoke a confused reaction from the senses, as it is their scrawny ugliness that makes them so adorably cute. I am delighted to see them on Baboon Island, and I really hope they make it. For now, the adults will continue their search. As I walk away, the call is disappearing, and I hope this is not a metaphor of their chances. Only time will tell if more than two will progress to the next stage of survival. 

 

The flycatchers return

  The spotted flycatcher is another of those birds I first came across at the Sanctuary. It was perched on a riverside branch, ready to launch itself at any invertebrate that dared take to the air. There was something stylish about its appearance, the stripes across its crown and breast, as if it had taken the dullness of colour that nature had granted, and defied it into a fashion. More than attitude, it suggested respectability. On a day when wrens, wagtails and dippers were scurrying from the camera lens, it returned a look that questioned my actions. It was hunting for life-meaning food, while I was playing with a box. Patiently, like an adult humouring a child, or a star indulging a fan, it allowed me to exhaust my photographic needs, and watched as I trundled away, somewhat embarrassed for causing such a fuss.

  Spotted flycatcher (Muscicapa striata)

   Once again beside the river, this particular flycatcher will have recently arrived from its annual African winter. As with its fellow migratory birds, it has travelled thousands of gruelling miles, losing many of its species along the way. While here, it will welcome in a new generation, before returning to Africa in September.

  The spotted flycatcher has been given a red conservation status because of the decline to its breeding population (BTO). Monitoring this and similarly troubled species is important for the ecological balance of the area. Changes to a species population can have far reaching consequences for the natural environment. Last week saw the publication of a collaborative report by several conservation agencies, which suggests that 60% of the studied native species are in decline (RSPB). That is a hugely significant figure and a worrying trend for UK wildlife.

  Given such news, it was nice to see some local mallards and moorhens with their new arrivals, though neither group belonged to the those who have taken up residency around Baboon Island. The moorhens, including four chicks, slipped into the canal from the towpath. As they made their way along the water, close to the cover of the grassy sides, one of the adults took the lead while the other brought up the rear, trying to keep the chicks between them. I cannot say whether the adults were aware, but one of their chicks had lost the formation and appeared to be lagging dangerously behind. Not wanting my presence to cause them unnecessary distress, I removed myself to allow them to regroup.

Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus)

Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos)

  The mallards were travelling along the River Tawe. Unlike the more regimented moorhens, the seven ducklings appeared to be venturing anywhere and everywhere they wanted. Along with the mother, a male mallard was in attendance, which is unusual behaviour as the father has frequently returned to its bachelor lifestyle before the birds have even hatched.

  The new arrivals were not restricted to the water, with this long tailed tit returning to the nest with food for its young.  In no time at all it was gone again, searching for much needed nutrition, with flying invertebrate its choice of food. Although it kept returning to the nest, I did not see a second long tailed tit, which made me think that it was possibly inside the nest, brooding.

Long tailed tit (Aegithalos caudatus)

  Although the long tailed tit is a relatively common bird, I never tire of seeing this small fluffy spectacle. As cute as any mammal, it makes the most incredible domed nest, which is almost elastic to the touch (obviously only when the bird has long since left residency). Feathered for comfort, it is the perfect place to raise any family.