Exe Estuary

Another cold, wet, windy day (is there any other kind of day in this country?) saw me take a trip to the Bowling Green Marsh on the Exe estuary. Living where I do, it's hard to be a frequent visitor to any one nature reserve and so my previous record of interesting sightings at RSPB reserves, with the exception of Bempton Cliffs, has been sketchy to say the least.

The wife and her growing bump resigned themselves to another windswept and disappointing day by the coast, but as we rounded the first corner at the edge of the reserve, we were amazed. The grass was packed beak to rump with canada geese, godwits and wigeons. After a while, we continued on to the hide (not much to report other than a robin who was quite happy landing on the window ledge of the hide) and then out to the viewing platform where we discovered redshanks, lapwings, oystercatchers and more dunlins than you could shake a stick at.

Flocks of brent geese flew overhead in a noisy, honking v-formation and a shelduck periodically took to the sky to survey the fast rising tide. Unfortunately, even though we timed our visit for about two hours before high tide, most of the wading birds were either already knee deep in water or on the opposite side of the estuary on the few remaining bits of exposed mud were.

Walking back to the marshes start of the reserve, we were treated to the finest views of the birds we'd seen. Now we could pick out teal and pintails in amongst the wigeons, several barnacle geese, a couple of little egrets and then, best of all, an incoming flock of around sixty avocets, the bird I'd made the trip especially to see.

It's a bit of a tedious drive from home, but being so close to the bottom of the M5, accessible enough for me to visit again. And soon. I just hope the weather is a little less inclement next time!

Donna Nook

Several months ago, we booked a few days in Lincolnshire with the intention of visiting the seals at Donna Nook. Then doing the research AFTER booking the holiday cottage, I was slightly disappointed to find that during the week, you can't venture onto the beach to take pictures.

Having resigned myself to looking at seals from afar, I was amazed to walk a few yards out of the car park to see a mother tenderly nursing her newborn pup. A few yards further along and another family group presented themselves to us. And the further we walked, the more seals we saw.

We were also very blessed with the weather. Whilst the rest of the country was suffering from gales and exceptional downpours, Donna Nook was bathed in beautiful November sunlight (and the wind was mostly kept at bay by the sand dunes).

The newborns were so inquisitive that my 500mm was often of no use because they just 'flumped' right up to the fence to look at the mad people with the funny equipment. At the time we visited, there were 500 babies with around another 800 expected before the end of the season. I'm hoping to go back in a few weekends time to brave walking amongst the warring bull seals to add a few more pictures to my collection. It's a trip I can highly recommend to anyone.

Check out the latest images section for some of my favourite shots.

RSPB Frampton Marsh

We spent a few days on the Lincolnshire coast -- ostensibly to see the seals at Donna Nook (see forthcoming blog!) but also to take in some of the migrating birds that past along the eastern seaboard of the UK at this time of year.

So in the pouring rain, we set off for Frampton Marsh near Boston. As always, I'm keen to protect my equipment from the elements so despite a break in the clouds and lots of protesting from the wife, I left all my kit safely locked in the boot of my car and set off for the hide. And as always, when I'm camera-less, I ended up having to kick myself quite firmly. A seemingly empty landscape of saltmarsh and freshwater scrape yielded the following: several hundred lapwings, lots of teal, a hen harrier, a little grebe, an avocet, a flock of goldfinches perched photogenically on teasel heds, around 500 brent geese and three whooper swans who flew past the hide in perfect formation.

A lesson learned. I will never set foot on an RSPB reserve without my camera again...probably.

Shooting Deer in Richmond Park

With a camera of course! A few years ago, I used to live just round the corner from Richmond Park but only really got back into wildlife photography when I decamped to the countryside. So now, it's a 4.30am start and a long, dark drive up the M4 if I want to witness the famous deer rutting season.

And like all of Mother Nature's spectaculars, you have to be lucky when you're there. And yesterday wasn't one of those lucky days. Although the dominant stag at Richmond did a lot of bellowing, he wasn't getting much action from the ladies and his competitors were giving him a wide birth yesterday. A couple of youngsters had a short battle in amongst the bracken, but I have a feeling the full antics of rutting season is still a little way off.

The grey, misty morning was brightened by the presence of some of my fellow photographers from the Nature Photographers Forums and I was privileged enough to meet the head of photography for the Natural History Museum. The infamous Richmond Park parakeets also added a splash of colour to the day, with twenty five of them trying to do battle with a resident heron. And now I finally understand why people complain about the parakeets. I had previously thought there were only a handful until I was treated to the cacophony of hundreds of them singing over head. Amazing that all of them came from a single pair released there forty years ago.

Farne and away

Another day in the North of this fair island, another tick in the box as I board Billy Shiel's boat trip to the Farne Islands to get the ubiquitous shot of Puffin avec Sand Eels. But of course, this is the UK and the promised "barbecue summer" finished several months ago. So after a very choppy crossing to Staple Island (narrowly avoiding several seals), it turned out to be too rough to dock so we dejectedly returned to Seahouses to wait for clearer weather.

A second attempt an hour later saw us sucessfully land on Inner Farne, only to be attacked by the infamous Tern colony. For once, I was prepared and had my camoflage beanie for protection, but some of my fellow travellers weren't quite so fortunate and provided plentiful supply of nesting material to the birds.

Over the course of two hours, I was lucky enough to see shags, oyster catchers, kittiwakes and more puffins than you can shake a stick at. Okay so there wasn't a full platoon of the little clown-faced auks as it was nearly the end of the season, but they were so much easier to see than waiting for one to stick its head over the parapet at Bempton.

I'm already planning my trip back there next year in the middle of the season in the hope of catching sight of some babies in their burrows before fledging. Well worth the trip!

Gannet Glastonbury

Bass Rock. Described by Sir David Attenborough as "one of the Twelve Wildlife Wonders of the World". Who could not be tempted to go somewhere with an endorsement like that. So yet again, I head up north (I should probably just move up there for the amount of time I spend going up and down the M6) and despite the terrible weather, arrive in North Berwick to see a beautiful sunrise over the Bass and thousands of birds circling in the sky.

Typically, the British weather didn't hold out and with a prediction of high seas, we set off for the rock, first pausing to enjoy the spectacle of 'Chumming', where the fisherman throws fish to attract the gannets for a diving display. As a photographer, this was one of the few times I wished I had my camcorder with me because nothing can portray the spectacle of a 3kg seabird plunging arrow-like from the sky into the sea, narrowly missing the boat and about thirty other gannets crowded round it. In fact one of my shots captured a gannet landing on the "life raft" formation of four other gannets who were waiting for a free feed.

Nothing can prepare you for the sight of the colony on the Bass. I thought I'd seen a lot of gannets at Bempton, but this is truly in another league. After clambering precariously from the boat (onto a sheer cliff face) you trek upwards through mud and three-inch thick gannet guano to a small area no more than a few metres square and come face to face (quite literally) with the gannets.

Provided you move slowly, the gannets seem to accept your presence and you can really get quite close to them. Although it's always best to stay out of pecking distance, given their tendancy towards aggressive behaviour. Woe betide any gannet foolish enough to crash land on another's nest (check out the gallery!). In fact one nearly crash landed on me, coming to a halt only inches from my rear end. Thankfully after a little game of steely blue eyed staring, he blinked first and left me in peace to continue my photography.

I was astounded by the way the parents continue to try to protect their chicks from the elements. It's most amusing seeing an adult gannet sitting on top of its chick which is actually bigger than its parent in vain attempt to keep the chick dry. But such was the weather that the poor bedraggled babies ended up looking like they were at a gannet version of Glastonbury! Equally entertaining was the feeding ritual where the adult appears to be trying to swallow their baby whole when in fact they are regurgitating a very unpleasant fishy stew for dinner.

My only gripe about the whole trip were the people who didn't realise that being perched on a rock in the middle of the North Sea in the pouring rain without any wet weather gear might make them a little bit sodden and even more grumpy. Such short-sightedness meant the visit was cut short for those of us who are a little more used to photographing in the 'glorious' British summer. I'd've happily stayed there all day given half a chance.

Take a look at my gallery for some of the trip highlights.

Gone Fishin'

After visiting the Rothiemurcius fishery last year and being treated to my first ever osprey sighting, I decided to undertake a 1,200 mile plus round trip this weekend, armed with my cameras to capture that famous shot of the osprey swooping from the sky and catching a fish. As always, nothing went quite to plan.

The session started at 4.45, a time that normally only registers on my consciousness when suffixed with pm, but this was 0445h! Typically for Scotland it was pouring with rain, which in itself shouldn't deter an osprey, but isn't great for photography. Poor light meant a high ISO was required and a host of grainy pictures ensued.

Next, my previous illusion that ospreys swooped in, picked up the fish and then swooped off was shattered. They actually hover awkwardly at height before suddenly divebombing down into the water, catching their prey and then shooting off back to their nest. And, for some reason, despite the rich pickings, the three ospreys only managed to catch five fish between them in five hours. Luckily though, I managed to get a few shots off so please check out my latest images gallery.

Woody Woodpecker

Having purchased an annual pass for the Wetlands and Wildlife trust (WWT), we took a trip to their site in Lanelli, Wales. Wopandering along, a double flash made my wife jump and suddenly we were treated to the sight of two lesser spotted woodpeckers hopping their way up and down a tree. Typically, by the time I'd got my camera set up for the light conditions, they decided to take flight.

A little later we bumped into some fellow photographers who said the woodpeckers were often seen at the bird feeders so we looped back around and lo and behold, we saw a baby woodpecker creeping up and down a nearby tree. This time, I was better prepared and managed to reel of several shots of his antics. He then flew towards the bird table with us in hot pursuit. The wife had her binoculars trained sniper-like on the table and let out a yelp. Not only was the woodpecker swinging merrily from a nut feeder, but there was a pair of bullfinches, something I'd hoped to see for many years, strutting around the table top. Unfortunately, these shy little birds were scared away by a couple of errant children and didn't return for the rest of the afternoon. But sometimes, seeing something with my own eyes is enough. Life isn't always best viewed through a lens.

Bempton Cliffs

After several aborted attempts to view sea birds at Skomer and around the Scottish Isles, I finally settled for a trip to Bempton Cliffs, which plays host to one of only two Gannet colonies on the UK mainland. Basing myself near Scarborough for a week, I planned to spend a few hours puffin-spotting with the wife before being left alone for some serious photography time.

Little did we know how addictive watching the antics of sea birds could be. From the huge, beautiful snow-white gannets performing their courtship routine (although we later found out that all gannet behaviour is actually an expression of agression!) to the tiny puffins and razor bills who compete for the best nooks and crannies in the cliff face for nesting, it's non-stop action from dawn to dusk.

Over the course of the week, we racked up around 24 hours of observation, the wife (who's only a happy snapper) managed 722 frames while I clocked up 32GB of pictures (just shy of 3,000 frames - which I now have to process!) and we can't wait to visit again. In fact, we're tempted to abandon our summer holiday in Antigua next year to visit Farne and Bass Rock instead.

We were privileged enough to share this spectacle with some very friendly and knowledgeable people who helped us to appreciate the slight vagaries of the different species - and that not all the middle-sized white birds are seagulls (there were herring gulls, kittiwakes, fulmars and lesser black-backed gulls); the best places to observe - such as on the day we were about to give up because of rain, we were pointed to a patch of cliff-top where the gannets systematically stripped every blade of grass and stem of red campion for their nest building activites (and provided much amusement with their less than gracious landing technique); and finally that seeing a puffin is just a matter of patience and rather than getting over-excited, hanging precariously over a cliff-top fence, D3 and telephoto lens your around neck in a force four gale is not always necessary because if you're patient enough, one of the little blighters will happily perch on a small, flowery outcrop for you while you fire off another few hundred frames. If only I'd been told that on day one because my wife's hair is much greyer since we came back!



Please check out my latest images gallery and keep any eye out for the Bempton gallery which will appear once I've had a moment to wade through a few of those pictures.

Now I'm a WWT member, I thought I'd pop to Slimbridge to check out their new kingfisher hide. Apparently, the best time to see kingfishers is around May time when they have young to feed as each chick can pack away an astonishing fifteen fish per day! I informed the wife that if she wanted to join me, she should be prepared for sitting for up to five hours in the hide as I was keen to get that elusive shot of the bird plummeting river-wards for a fish or two.

Unfortunately, as is often the case in the UK, the weather had other ideas and a force ten, baltic gale was blowing directly towards the hide which is not particularly helpful if you're having to constantly have contact with a steel-bodied camera. Of course, the official reason is that as I was only on a recce to see the new hide, I didn't want to cart my massive 300-800mm lens and its associated paraphernalia around with me all day. Whichever option you choose to believe, we only stayed for forty-five minutes. Plenty of kingfisher activity going on, but without the big lens, all I got was the equivalent of a holiday snap. Ah, well, another time, another lens maybe.

So back to the main reserve for the wife to dispense food to the goose population. I spent time photographing rooks and coots with my trusty D3 and 300mm lens, after all it's not every day you get to see these creatures! * One of my favourite action shots is currently in the latest images gallery, showing two territorial coots who were determined to fight almost to the death. In amongst all the kung-fu fighting, you'll see the one on the left actually managed to get a beakful of the other one's plumage. Ouch!

Then we discovered the reason why. One battle-scarred coot returned to see his mate who happened to be nesting. As she shifted to tend to his wounds, we were privileged enough to witness the birth of their first-born who wrestled his way from the shell to pose for this touching portrait of mother and baby. One for their family album perhaps. And this explains the old saying "As bald as a coot".


*Please note my tongue is firmly in my cheek whilst writing this blog :o)

A spot of "Baaaa-rilliant" luck

With my trip to Bempton Cliffs looming large on the calendar and Spring having rapidly sprung a multitude of baby birds, I decided to spend Friday evening at my local nature reserve catching up with the heron chicks and checking to see if the swans had had their cygnets yet. Despite the balmy weather, there was very little action on the bird front - the herons appearing to have fledged already and the swans were busy napping on their nest in the twilight. There was not a gosling to be goggled at and even the otter obviously had better things to do than perform for my D3.

Though I was prepared to be patient to get my pictures, the sun decided to call it a night too so I packed up my kit and trudged dejectedly back to the car. Just as everything was stowed safely in the boot, a family of sheep wandered into view, the sun decided to give me one last chance and streamed deliciously upon them (delicious in the cute sense, I wasn't quite at the stage of thinking of them in the "mint sauce" sense) and I was lucky enough to capture some endearing shots of the lambs and their mum. Hope ewe like the picture!

Welcome to my world!

A few years back, the wife tired of me complaining I was bored and told me to find myself a hobby.  Little did she know that that seemingly throw away statement, made in a moment of exasperation would consume every spare minute of both our lives.

Wildlife is my other passion in life so I now while away most of my time photographing at our local nature reserve or travelling round the country to track down whichever bird happens to take my fancy this week.

My favourite of my most recent shots, however, is the humble wood pigeon who frequents the bird table in our back garden.  Most people see them as vermin, but when the elements combine at just the right time, something simple can look amazing.

Please check back regularly :o)