Mediterranean Pyrenees
  • Home
  • About
  • Galleries
    • Birds of the Mediterranean Pyrenees >
      • Common Birds of the Mediterranean Pyrenees by Isobel
    • Weather in the Mediterranean Pyrenees >
      • Weather: skies and storms in the Mediterranean Pyrenees
      • Clouds above the Mediterranean Pyrenees by Isobel
      • The summer of 2015 by Isobel
    • Bruce's Pix >
      • Beetles, Bugs and other insects
      • Birds
      • Butterflies
      • Butterflies of La Batère
      • Canigou
      • Castles
      • Dragonflies
      • Flowers
      • Pyrenees Landscapes
      • TGV
      • UK photos
    • Isobel's Images >
      • Isobel's favourite images
      • Springtime in an Alberes garden
      • In the garden
      • Tour de Batere, spring 2015 with Robin Noble
    • Lesley's Snaps >
      • Insects & Arachnids
      • Bees
      • Birds
      • Les Albères
      • Elsewhere in the region
    • Robin's Photos
    • Martine's Photos
    • GUESTS' Gallery
  • Birdsong
  • Blog
  • Resources
  • Contact

April Blog

20/4/2015

0 Comments

 
Picture
by Robin Noble (photos by Isobel Mackintosh)

Well, we are into the fourth week of April, and it is definitely spring, despite the unusually variable weather. The warmth and the extra rain have meant a real explosion of growth, trees and bushes bursting into bloom, and an amazing array of greens, from the softest to the most vivid. It also means a lot of birdsong, sometimes, as in the case of my local blackbirds, almost deafening, at other times very frustrating as I look to find who is responsible for this new song which I do not know.

In the garden of the house across the road and below ours, there is a tall thin conifer which the birds like to perch on, and there at least I can often get a good view. Having lived so far north, in the Highlands of Scotland, I missed out on quite a number of birds which you may see elsewhere in Britain, like the nuthatch, and it is fun for me to catch up slowly with others, now that I am living so much further south. Recently, one such bird used the conifer in question precisely while I was having a coffee in the sun, and I was able to study it at leisure. In fact, its song was very dull, described as "monotonous" in my favourite book- and quite accurately! But the male cirl bunting, who was responsible for the "repetition of a single sharp note" is rather handsome, with varied, rich brown plumage on his back, a black-and-yellow-striped face, with a good deal of yellow on the breast and underparts. Females and juveniles are far less distinct, and I think I may often have seen them without knowing it.

The most frustrating thing about this time of year is, however, hearing bee-eaters flying overhead, but seeing nothing at all! I have always been obsessed by them, and, of course, only ever had the chance to see them on occasional holidays - during which I quickly learnt that while hearing them is one thing, actually seeing them is quite another, generally a real stroke of luck!

Recently, I took Isobel and Ann up to the Tour de Batere, on an incredibly beautiful day. There was enough snow left on Canigou for the near peaks to be rearing impressively above us, and distant views were clear and sharp. You may often get such days with a really cool or cold breeze, but the air was warm and soft and the day delightful. We did not see any really big birds, there just seemed to be ravens and, far in the distance, a flock of the alpine choughs, but when I went for a stroll along the track and briefly followed a small burn (which normally hardly flows), I saw another bird for the first time in my life - although most of you reading this will know it well! This was a yellow wagtail, far more subtle in colouring than the grossly misnamed "grey" wagtail, which is so smart in its black , dove grey, white and vivid yellow. This was a male, but far more delicate in colour than the grey, with a soft yellow-to-pink on its chest. It was very much aware of me, but fairly tame, and I had excellent views of it, in this very typical waterside habitat. Nicely, too, there were some early marsh marigolds, and some type of primula, like a small, delicate oxlip, very much the same colour as an "ordinary" primrose; I have not succeeded in identifying this one yet. Meantime, Isobel was fascinated by the amazing "stemless" thistles, large composite flowers flush with the ground ("carline acaule" in the Alberes book) and with the wonderful lichens growing on the tough metamorphic rocks of this wonderful high country.


More of Isobel's photos from that day below - and in her gallery.

Picture
0 Comments

Spring Blog 2015

8/4/2015

0 Comments

 
by Robin Noble

There is a lot happening just now, and it is hard to know what you should be doing, or where you should be, except that it is clear that your binoculars should always be at hand! Just recapping a bit: when Isobel and Lesley alerted us to the migration, we duly headed off that same day to the Étang, where it was certainly windy in the early afternoon. We stopped first at the Fishermen's Huts I have previously talked about, where a dozen grey herons were hiding from the blusters and buffets in the shelter of the embankment which carries the road along the coast. Shortly after we arrived, a female marsh harrier used the same, slightly quieter air- space and gave us some lovely views.

By the time we reached the other side, and found the (by now) famous "hillock", the wind had reduced, but so, clearly, had the passing migrants, as there were only a couple of guys waiting around. You get a good view northwards from there, over a large marshy area and part of the Étang, where the flamingos looked beautifully pink in the sun. Below us an egret, presumably male, was energetically displaying to another, while swallows flew fast and low over a channel in the foreground. I had a very brief view of a large bird disappearing into the distance, but never saw it again. My impression was of a sizeable raptor, rich brown on the back, with black tips to the wings; my usual bird-books have not been much help with this, but the cover of the guide to the Emporda Nature Reserve over the border in Spain, shows a male Marsh Harrier with exactly such black wingtips, and as Lesley had been seeing them there, I am inclined to the view that this must be what I saw.

A day or so later, we headed into Spain and went to the very extensive wetland of the reserve. It was a really beautiful spring day, and we spent longer there than we had before, exploring a bit more widely. The place was wetter than we have seen it, reflecting the comparatively rainy winter and spring, and, as usual, there were plenty of birds, including lots of storks. There were several waders; a good group of glossy ibis just in front of one hide, and a real mix in the flooded corner of a field. Among them were several of the improbable stilts, with their long pink legs, and one redshank. Between these in size, perhaps just a bit larger than the redshank, were many, largely speckled brownish waders, which we have not yet confidently identified. They were not large enough, nor their beaks long enough, to be godwit, and they were not as colourful. Some had whitish heads, but otherwise looked rather like the rest. Some had greenish legs, others darkish brown. I am inclined to the view that they were all Marsh Sandpiper, on migration from their wintering grounds just over the Strait of Gibraltar, heading for somewhere north of the Black Sea, which is where they breed-but that might be nonsense!

While we were walking around the reserve, just as last year, we were occasionally startled by a sudden, clear and loud call from the undergrowth close to us. As last year, we could see nothing, and vaguely assumed: "warbler", until there was another of these calls, and a bird burst through the vegetation and perched briefly in front of us on a fence. We had a quick impression of its rich brown plumage, then, with a flick of a long, rounded tail, it was gone. This had to be a Cetti's warbler, and we were pleased to have identified it at last; my book refers to its "startlingly explosive burst of song".

At home, sitting on the terrace with a good view of one of our pine trees has proved quite productive lately. The crested tits, as I have remarked before, are very fond of them, and are becoming quite tame; recently one was in the grass just about four feet in front of us – a lovely sight. One day I was watching the acrobatics of a tiny goldcrest, when I followed it to the righthand edge of the tree, and realised there was something much larger passing in the distance, but of course, quite out of focus. Rapidly twirling knobs, I just had time to see the rear view of – quite definitely – a common crane. Now I do realise this would be unusual, but it may have been the last of a small group, which passed out of sight while I was following the goldcrest, or perhaps one which had become separated from others in the recent gusty winds. Whatever the cause, I am sure that a common crane was proceeding down Vallespir just the other day!

It has been interesting, too, to note how birds change their appearance in the brilliant sun of recent days. The blackcaps have been quite visible, especially the male, who still looks rather fluffed up and round as though feeling the cold; when he flew into a sunny patch of the pine, all you were aware of was white, grey, and the black of his cap. You could see none of the "olive brown" mentioned in my book, and yet I am totally sure of the identification; I saw him very clearly, and the eye was certainly not red- this was not a sardinian. Similarly, a male serin flew into the sun on the same tree, and instantly resembled a canary – all you could take in was an explosion of yellow, with some white. He sang, too, making his resemblance to the canary all the stronger.

Larger birds have been using the same pines, and the air is at times musical with rhythmic calls; in the distance, we frequently hear the sharpish call of the wryneck, but lately, much closer to, we have had the woodwind note of the hoopoe. He uses prominent trees, presumably to advertise for a mate, and I have noticed that each time he calls, he bows his head; sometimes this is repeated for quite a while, and the regular soft call carries a surprising distance. When this amazing bird raises its crest, or flies, showing the dazzling patterns on its broad wings, I truly realise how wonderful this area is and how lucky we are to live here.

0 Comments

Dawn - at The Hillock

4/4/2015

0 Comments

 
by Lesley McLaren

According to the Migraction website, migrants sighted yesterday from the hillock by the lagoon at Canet St Nazaire included a bonelli's eagle, booted eagle, night heron, and dozens of other interesting things. So this morning, not wishing to miss out on the action, I headed out at dawn.

The sky was beautifully pink when I arrived, and Yves, the GOR member already in situ, confirmed that the call I could hear from the lagoon (similar to - but clearly not - the kee-wick made by tawny owls) came from a pair of marsh harriers.

Picture
At just gone 7 o'clock, the sun rises above Canet
I rubbed my hands, not only in anticipation of eagles, but also because I'd forgotten my gloves! Fooled by the weather forecast for Laroque, I'd come out with far too few layers of clothing. The micro-climates around here are incredible - at home, only twenty-five minutes away by car, there had been no wind and it was fairly warm. Here, out on the Roussillon plain, the tramontane was still blowing - not nearly as hard as the last few days, but it was still fresher than I'd expected.

And so, as more watchers trickled in, we waited.

Pains au chocolat
were handed round. And we waited ... One guy's black lab padded among us, hoovering up crumbs. And we waited... Flasks were opened ... Café, thé? The dog offered me a stick and a warming game of tug. I was tempted - by now the back of my neck and shoulders were stiffening up.

After an hour or so I was thinking of leaving, but surely something other than flocks of mistle thrushes, wood pigeons, serins and chaffinches would fly by in a minute? I was probably missing a few smaller birds, but couldn't always hear the names of everything the others were calling out (woolly hat and anorak hood didn't help with hearing!) and many names I didn't recognise.
Picture
Canigou in the pink

Hardly any raptors showed up. The odd marsh harrier and black kite (I was getting blase about those now) ... finally a red kite ... and someone spotted an osprey, but too far away for me to make out what it was. There was speculation of un blocage in Spain. Then, as the sun gained height and the air warmed up a tiny bit, flocks of alpine swifts began to come through. Followed by a red rumped swallow (some of these breed around the Laroque area, I was told). I only caught a fleeting glimpse of this, without binos. With the naked eye, its rump looked more white than red and I was struck by how it looked more like a house martin but with that long forked tail of a swallow.

Finally, it seemed there was more activity around us, but still very few raptors apart from kestrels and sparrowhawks. A small aeroplane didn't help matters - flying backwards and forwards low over the lagoon (mosquito-spraying) and putting up all the water birds. At one point, though, the sky turned pink again, as a a huge flock of flamingos took flight.

As I repeatedly scanned the mountains I occasionally heard the marsh harriers again - and then a very strange rattling sound, away to my right. For a moment I wasn't at all sure if it was a bird or something mechanical over by the houses and car park. I hesitated to ask anyone because no one else seemed to have noticed. And these guys miss nothing, so I was reluctant to make a fool of myself. A few minutes later, however, a biggish something flew into a bush only a few feet away. And rattled. Thirteen telescopes and one pair of binoculars turned, and focused on a great spotted cuckoo. I was the only person surprised by the sighting, and blamed my headgear for not picking up on conversation about it.

Kind of cuckoo shaped, but so much lovelier than our normal cuckoo. Between the size of a jay and a magpie, it has a long tail, white-spotted grey upperparts, white underparts, and a creamy neck and chin topped by a grey head with a slight crest. It perched there for some minutes, rattling, and posing for photographs (my camera was in my rucksack, and I didn't dare move), before flying to a tree a little further off - where there was another one! I knew these birds were supposed to be in our region, but had never seen one, so this impressive creature was truly the highlight of my morning.

Now my trip had been worthwhile and I could head back to the car. As I slid behind the wheel I glimpsed through the windscreen, in the distance, a couple of big raptors heading this way, teasing me to stay. Was one of them pale underneath? Booted eagle? Short-toed eagle? Osprey? Had the blocage unblocked? I was in two minds to return to the group but in the end the greater temptations of warmth and breakfast won.

Post-script: I should have stayed. All of those eagles - and another bonelli's - were to fly by later in the day.
0 Comments

Life and Death in the Albères

1/4/2015

0 Comments

 
by Lesley McLaren

The almond and cherry blossom is long over, nectarine and apricot aren't far behind; in the vineyards the first leaves are bursting open, and trees are beginning to show green. The blackthorn is in flower and, after the recent wet spell, everything's growing like crazy - especially the weeds in my garden.


Picture
First vine leaves

As the cycle of life begins all over again, this is a time to savour and celebrate. Dandelions in our grass are reflecting the sun, our red robin hedge is living up to its name; animals and birds are pairing up.

Some blackbirds might already be incubating eggs, and one pair of collared doves has been nesting in our palm tree for some time. Unsuccessfully. They tried late last year too, but haven't managed to raise a chick so far as I know. After the last storm and gales, I found the soggy remains of what might have been a young chick on the paving beneath the nest. Our dog has been very interested, sniffing around, or barking at one or both birds that like to sit on our neighbour's chimney, checking it's safe, before returning to the nest.

At least, that was the routine until yesterday evening.

I was in the living room, watching television, when a kerfuffle caught my eye in the far corner of our garden. Those doves, I thought, getting frisky again. They often like to cuddle up and preen each other on our pergola, prior to mating. At first glance, I presumed they were at it again, except on the ground this time, which was unusual. And then it dawned on me that I was watching something far more violent. The bird on top was a hawk.

Sparrowhawk, I assumed.

I was surprised when it didn't fly off immediately but gave me time to not only get the binos on it, but also to film it. It was nervous, but seemed not to see me approach the window. After a few minutes it flew off, prey in talons, to dine somewhere more private.

Only when I looked back at the clip did I begin to wonder if, in fact, it was a sparrowhawk. Clearly not a male (they don't have that distinctive white stripe above the eye, and their faces and chests are orange), but I always thought the larger females were brown-backed. This one looked totally grey to me - with a very pale front, finely barred. And two white patches on the back of its head. Were those identifiers, or peculiar to that particular bird? Evidently, I don't know my sparrowhawks well enough. This is the longest I've probably ever watched a hawk at close quarters. Identification of so many birds is often made primarily via silhouettes, flight patterns and behaviour (kestrels hover and drop onto prey on the ground, sparrowhawks will dash into a thicket in a high speed chase...).
Television programme and dinner were interrupted (to my husband's amusement) while I combed both bird book and internet for answers. For some time I wondered if we'd been visited by a male goshawk. The overall shape, stance and colouring made it the spit of a male goshawk in one internet clip. If I was right, it would be the first I'd ever seen. They're supposed to be in this region all year round, and more might be migrating through the area, so it was possible - just possible - and tremendously exciting. A goshawk! In my garden! Wow!

But it's so easy to convince yourself you're seeing what you want to see.

In the end I reluctantly concluded it was a female sparrowhawk after all. What swung it was the size (I think even a male goshawk - smaller than females - would have looked bigger in comparison to the size of the dove), and also the behaviour (sparrowhawks typically take prey in gardens, whereas this would be extremely unusual for the shy goshawk). In addition, her eye was very bright yellow (goshawks' are more orange), and it seems female sparrowhawks can be grey-brown.

Something of an anti-climax? Yes and no. It was still wonderful, in a rather macabre way, to have been able to capture her on film at such a dramatic moment (albeit through a grubby window, with inferior equipment).

I can't help but feel sorry for the poor dove, and her mate who must now find another partner to preen. But at least this was nature at work, and the death of one bird has helped the life of another. The cycle continues.
0 Comments

    Authors

    Bruce Hyde
    Isobel Mackintosh
    Lesley McLaren
    Robin Noble

    Archives

    August 2020
    May 2020
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    January 2018
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    December 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013

    Categories

    All
    Amphibians
    Arachnids
    Birds
    Bruce Hyde
    Dragonfly Differences
    Insects
    Isobel Mackintosh
    Lesley McLaren
    Mammals
    Marine Life
    Misc
    Mushrooms & Fungi
    Plants
    Reptiles
    Robin Noble
    Sea & Coast
    Tracks/Traces
    Weather

    Click icon for notification of new posts
    Subscribe
Lesley McLaren, Bruce Hyde, Isobel Mackintosh, Robin Noble, Martine Howard, mediterraneanpyrenees.com associates and affiliates do not warrant or assume any legal liability or responsibility for the accuracy, completeness or usefulness of any information, product or process disclosed. Lesley McLaren, Bruce Hyde, Isobel Mackintosh, Robin Noble, Martine Howard, mediterraneanpyrenees.com and affiliates do not endorse or recommend any commercial products, processes or services and cannot be held liable for any result of the use of such information, products, processes or services discussed on this website.