Barry Madden, NWT Volunteer
It surely is an ill wind that blows no good. The winter storms
that resulted in the devastating sea surge during December 2013 caused extensive
damage to the North Norfolk coast, and Cley Marshes suffered too. And yet...
There is more shingle now, piles of it; powered 100 metres inland
by the uncontested might of the rampant North Sea. This mass of eroded rock
fragments has covered some grassland where skylarks used to sing their sweet
song and has smothered small pools where starlet anemones once dwelled. But it
has also created opportunities for those birds that love to nest on these
exposed expanses, as well as allowing NWT reserve staff to fence off tracts of
the extended habitat to safeguard these pioneers. And the carpets of yellow
horned-poppies sprouting from seeds dispersed by the flood are to die for.
New pools have been created on the area where East bank adjoins
the coast road. These were dug on an area of reed smashed flat by the floods
and which didn't seem in any hurry to regenerate. Almost instantly black-tailed
godwits, ruff and redshank exploited the shallow water which they obviously
found much to their liking. Herons use the area in their prenuptial gatherings
and little egrets are regular visitors. Already new reed has enveloped the
margins and the islands which will no doubt prove attractive nesting areas for
a variety of wildfowl and warblers as it develops further.
The cinnabar moth colony that once festooned the thistles and
ragwort along the south side of the raised shingle ridge was eradicated at
Cley, but at Salthouse they thrive to still decorate the flowers of both
plants. When I visited the area a couple of weeks ago every flower head had
insects supping nectar, some had multiple visitors jostling for position. A joy
to see. It was also heartening to see
many Essex skippers enjoying the wealth of pale purple thistle flower on offer
all along the East Bank.
But for me the most fascinating bonus from the storm damage can
be seen at Gramborough Hill, just east of the Salthouse beach road. Here the
sea has sliced a chunk off the north face of the small hillock to create a low
sandy cliff which has been chosen as a nesting site by a colony of sand
martins.
I spent a happy hour there watching the adults hawking insects
over the grass clad slopes atop the recently formed cliff and cavorting
together over the beach.
Some newly fledged birds were also honing their aerial
skills whilst younger nestlings gathered at the entrance to nesting burrows
waiting for the next mouthful of juicy fodder. I snapped away at these
incredibly fast moving hirundines trying to capture them in pursuit of flying
insects invisible to me. My hit rate was ridiculously low, but a few shots bore
fruit and showed some fascinating postures, attitudes and habits. Some images captured
birds preening mid-flight with their heads turned upside down to facilitate
easy access to their tiny sharp claws. Several caught birds with throat pouches
crammed full with insects showing what wealth of prey items are available to
them within 100 metres of their summer homes. Others simply illustrated what
graceful masters of the air these diminutive migrants are. There is no way I
would have been able to properly observe these nuances without being able to
freeze the action at 1/5000 of a second. Even then their movements were so
swift that only a handful of images were acceptably sharp. Lovely birds, sadly
one we seldom get a chance to look at closely nowadays. However these plucky
ones have quickly exploited a new resource and hopefully will be a feature here
for many years to come.
An ill wind indeed blew 18 months ago, but it has, in unforeseen
ways, blown much good.
The Monday group work alongside me to do the bulk of the practical conservation
work from scrub clearing to reed bed conservation to hedge planting (and a
whole load more). I generally find a generous supply of cakes does the trick for keeping energy levels and morale high even on the wettest of days. 
