Species of the month: marsh harrier

Ed Parnell, Norfolk Wildlife Trust

With its impressive four-foot wingspan the marsh harrier is one of the largest and most spectacular birds of prey to be found in Norfolk. 

Marsh harrier, photo by Mark Ollett

The male has distinctive black and grey upperwings, which contrast with their chestnut back; females and young birds are a more uniform chocolate brown, with a creamy head and face. In flight they have a distinctive silhouette, holding their wings in a shallow, streamlined ‘V’.

Winter is an excellent time to see these magnificent birds as they drift languidly across the marshes and reed beds of the coast and Broads, scaring up flocks of waders and ducks in the process. However, given their chequered history, the species’ current relative abundance shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Marsh harriers were widespread in the UK prior to the eighteenth century, but extensive wetland drainage, egg collecting and persecution meant that their numbers fell dramatically and, by the end of the nineteenth century, the species no longer bred in England. Hopes were raised in the 1920s as the Broads were recolonised, but despite spreading into surrounding areas the species declined once again during the 1960s, as a result of poisoning by pesticides such as DDT. By 1971, only one pair remained in the whole of the UK.

Today, the species has made a remarkable comeback with around 450 pairs found across the UK. Around 75 of those are found in Norfolk, many of which are thought to have made their way over from the burgeoning Dutch population. The species now also over-winters in the county in sizeable numbers with the largest gatherings found roosting at NWT Hickling Broad, viewable from a special raised bank at Stubb Mill. Other birds of prey occurring at this site include the smaller and sleeker hen harrier and the merlin (the UK’s smallest falcon), along with almost the entire UK population of common cranes – on a fine winter’s afternoon the Hickling roost offers a spectacular wildlife spectacle. 

Marsh harrier in the Norfolk broads, photo by Mali Halls

To watch marsh harriers in cosier surroundings you could also head to NWT Cley Marshes, where you can usually enjoy great views of the birds gliding low over the reeds from the comfort of the reserve’s panoramic café.

Marsh harriers start to come in to roost from mid-afternoon at Hickling. Park in the NWT Hickling Broad nature reserve car park (NR12 0BW) and follow directions to Stubb Mill. A small charge applies to non-NWT members. NWT Cley Marshes is found just east of Cley village on the A149 coast road (NR25 7SA). There is free parking and entrance to the visitor centre and café, though a small charge applies to adult non-members for entry on to the reserve.

For more stunning images of marsh harriers, please visit our online gallery

Wake up to birdsong

David North, Head of People and Wildlife

Song thrush, photo by Alan Price

Do you have difficulty getting out of bed on these cold, dark winter mornings? Well it may be cold and grey but I’m sure you’ve noticed that its getting just a bit lighter each morning and with the lengthening days comes a natural wonder worth celebrating – bird song. I may still be struggling out of bed in the dark but now there’s a song thrush singing when it’s still pretty much night, at least to my sleepy eyes at 6am. The merest hint of a lightening in the eastern sky and the full-throated voice of a male song thrush – the sound of life, pure notes each repeated two or three times, is a clear sign that a new day is dawning. In my rural garden he is the first bird to greet the morning. What a lust for life. What passion. While I’m still half-awake, cleaning my teeth, he is singing his heart out, staking his claim to life, to territory, and reminding me that the dance of a New Year is there to be joined.

In my nearest wood the snowdrops have already pushed their way through leaf litter up into the light. Most are still small, sharp white spikes, unfurled, slowly swelling, but a few are already open, white flowers dangling, each with its inner script of green markings. 

Snowdrops, photo by Neville Yardy

 Above them yellow ‘lambs’ tail’ catkins of hazel are hanging pendulous, swaying in the winter wind and just waiting for a touch of sun to release their individual dust-clouds of yellow pollen. Next time I visit I must look more closely to see if any of the red star-like female hazel flowers, tiny but exquisite, have appeared. In the early morning great tits make voice with piercing disyllabic ‘teacher, teacher, teacher’ calls, though each male has a subtle variation on this theme. Robins are singing their quiet, sweet songs from song perches high in branches above me, a trickle of notes like water running over stones. Dunnocks are also beginning to provide an unassuming background of quiet but rapid warbling from the undergrowth – often singing from ground level and never loud, strident and repetitive like the great tits.

Today in Norwich I heard my first chaffinch of the year sing, hesitant as if not quite sure of its voice yet. On Castle Mound, in the heart of the city, collared doves were ‘coola cooing’. The doves have been at it all year of course but now there’s just a bit more verve and passion about their coos.

Jackdaw, photo by Dave Kilbey

There are other signs of activity to look for in the natural world – rooks are rebuilding nests and busy raucously complaining about stolen twigs and noisy neighbours in their highly social worlds. On my local village green there’s a glint in jackdaws eyes (yes, I know they always glint a bit) but it could be love as they all seem to be in twos and that pair on the chimney pot are attentively grooming each other’s neck feathers. Wood pigeons in my garden are like-wise sidling up along the bare apple tree branches, to end up as pairs, and with apparent affection indulging in a spot of mutual preening.

You don’t have to travel anywhere special to see these signs that the world’s still turning. The season quietly moving forward in the up-thrust of a daffodil here and a woodpecker’s drumming there. In the first crazy chase of a hare in my local fields, now greening with winter sown barley, or the simple fluty voice of a blackbird in your garden.

Open your ears and enjoy the sound of nature waking up to new beginnings in a new year.

Beyond Blackbirds and Blue Tits: unusual garden birds to look out for this winter

Ed Parnell, Norfolk Wildlife Trust

House sparrow by Liz Dack

The results of various garden bird surveys highlight the birds we should all be seeing. But reading these lists can be disheartening – in the unpredictable world of birds it's dangerous to assume that the most commonly-recorded visitors will occur to order in everyone's garden. For example, in almost eight years living at my current Norfolk home (a semi-rural, edge of town setting) I have only seen a House Sparrow in my garden once – a fleeting event which caused great excitement despite the fact that the species can commonly be encountered a five minute walk away. Yet, during the same period a number of other species that many people would love to record on their properties have dropped in regularly to my tiny patch of lawn and its bordering jumble of overgrown willows. These birds – like the Green Woodpeckers that can regularly be seen hopping around – are always a joy, but that solitary sparrow caused my heart to race just that little bit faster. And that, I suppose, is one of the joys of watching for birds out of our kitchen windows; context is everything, and nothing is entirely predictable.

With that in mind, let's look at some of the scarcer candidates that might just be visiting your garden over the next few months. I don't mean the ultra rare – birds like the White-crowned Sparrow, a lost soul from North America that frequented a small strip of gravel driveway at Cley next the Sea in north Norfolk a few years back. No, I mean those species that can reasonably be expected to grace the average garden every now and then – depending of course on where you live, what trees and plants are in your garden, and above all sheer chance and luck.

The main contenders

Gold finch by Nick Appleton

Among the Chaffinches and Greenfinches that will visit most of our feeders this winter, there are a few other members of this delightful family liable to put in an appearance. Perhaps the most frequent to expect is the Goldfinch, now a top 10 visitor to many gardens, lured in by the promise of nyger seed and sunflower hearts. However commonplace this little finch becomes though, it should never be taken for granted – not with that stunning scarlet face and the patch of pure sunlight in its wing.

Other winter finches include the Brambling – the Scandinavian and central European cousin of the Chaffinch (think of a Chaffinch repainted in Autumnal orange shades); or the Siskin, a miniature Greenfinch with added yellows and blacks, a real scarcity for most gardens, unfortunately, but in some years and in some parts of the country (such as the southeast) a top 20 bird. Neither of these have quite made it into my own garden, though the incomparable bullfinch is always welcome in spring, even when it does feast on apple blossom. Occasionally it puts in a winter appearance too when times are tough; almost always in pairs: the vivid rouge male followed closely to the feeder by the drabber female.

Marsh tit by Bob Carpenter

 Other common visitors are Blue and Great Tits, two species with stunning plumages better suited to a tropical rainforest, a fact it's easy to forget given their familiarity. Less frequent is the Coal Tit, though most people (particularly those with conifers in close proximity to their garden) will manage to attract in this miniscule black-capped gem with a little persistence (and a lot of seed). More unusual still is the Marsh Tit, slightly larger and plainer than the Coal Tit and lacking its white central crown stripe. Its near-identical relative, the Willow Tit, is a theoretical possibility depending on geography, but Willow Tits are declining at an alarming rate across the country, making Marsh Tit the default identification choice (to be really sure listen out for the Marsh Tit's double-barrelled 'pitchou' call, rather than the buzzing scolding of the Willow – good luck with getting the birds to call when you want them to though).

What else could drop in? Well the list is long and varied... Green Woodpeckers, as mentioned earlier (Bagpuss's Professor Yaffle) are an increasingly common garden visitor, as of course are Great Spotteds – though the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, the sparrow-sized equivalent of the Great, is another species suffering a worrying nationwide decline and a very unlikely garden visitor to all but a privileged few...

10 more garden greats

 

Goldcrest, by Mali Halls

Goldcrest – the UK's smallest bird. Easily overlooked but always possible, particularly where conifers are present.

Treecreeper by Liz Dack

Treecreeper – another easy-to-miss bird due to its cryptic plumage and unobtrusive habits. It won't come to feeders, you'll have to keep watching those tree trunks...

Jay by Liz Dack

 Jay – a loud and raucous member of the crow family. Unmistakeable and often very obvious in the autumn and early winter when they're busy retrieving cached stores of acorns from lawns.

Redwing by Robert Powell

Redwing– cold winter weather is always likely to bring this pretty Scandinavian thrush into urban areas. Plant berry bushes and look out for the distinctive cream stripe above the eye and rather less obvious dab of orange-red on the side of its breast.

Fieldfare by Duncan Macnab

Fieldfare – another Scandinavian thrush. Bigger and darker than a Redwing, with lots of grey in its plumage. Loves windfall apples.

Tawny owl by Julian Thomas

Tawny Owl – by far the most likely owl to occur in gardens, though really you need mature trees nearby. Truly nocturnal and far more likely to be heard than seen: listen out for the familiar 'tu-whit, tu-whoo', as well as the more-commonly given 'ke-wick'.  

Blackcap by Ray Jones

Blackcap – a summer migrant that now winters in increasing numbers. Males have the black cap, though it's chestnut-brown in the female.

Pheasant by Liz Dack

Pheasant – a familiar bird of farmland which increasingly visit gardens, particularly those on the edge of rural areas. Embrace their vast appetite for ground-strewn seed and admire the male's stupendous plumage.

Grey wagtail by Julian Thomas

Grey Wagtail – a wild card this one, I could have equally have chosen the black and white Pied Wagtail. Just remember: any wagtail in your garden in winter that has a dash of yellow in its plumage is a Grey Wagtail. Common bird names can be so misleading...

Waxwings by Colin Coupland

Waxwing – the holy grail for garden birdwatchers. Varies enormously in numbers as a UK visitor from one year to the next (depending on the state of its food supply in Europe): some years there's a glut, some virtually none. To have any chance of getting one in your garden get planting berry trees – Guelder Roses always seem to prove very popular with these wavy-crested visitors.