Unfettered Horizons of Blue Sky and Multicoloured Marsh

It was my last day in Norfolk. Three days here is clearly nowhere near enough to explore the wonders of the North Coast but I was determined to cram in as much as I could to every available minute.

Having explored Cley and Wiveton, my last day was to venture further afield. Titchwell is one of the gems dotted along the coast and managed by the RSPB. I set off early, missing the traffic and managing to be one of the first to arrive at the nature reserve.

The visitor centre was still closed but you are able to walk into the reserve unhindered.
 I walked up the western side past the reedbeds and up to the Island hide that overlooks the freshwater marsh. As with this time of season there were many juvenile birds around. A female Mallard and her brood fed in the corner of the scrape. She had at least a dozen ducklings. I feared for their safety however.

Especially with Marsh Harriers gliding around so near.





































I kept walking with the beach as my first destination.
The tide was receding and many waders were feeding on the exposed sand.
Bar Tailed Godwits, Sanderling and Grey Plover all in their summer plumage along with scattered Oystercatchers. I feared to venture nearer in case of frightening them away, so I made do with distant shots and retreated to the nearest hide.

The Parrinder Hide was a state of the art building just a few years ago with fancy wind down windows and commanding views of the freshwater marsh to the South and the tidal lagoon to the North looking beachwards. Many of the mechanisms on the windows were not working. It could do with a little TLC.

Directly in front of me I could see two Ruff coming into Summer plumage. Dark and light phase birds. Normally the lighter bird is what is known as a 'Satellite' male. The dominant darker males vie for position in the heirarchy when it comes to mating the females in the display ground or 'Lek', whilst less dominant lighter males wait to grab their turn on the periphery. There are also males that imitate female plumage and sneak in for a surreptitious coupling when the other males backs are turned. It gets very complicated in the Ruff breeding world !

A group of Dark Bellied Brent flew in to the marsh. Being mid May these birds have normally left on migration in my neck of the woods in Hampshire but I suppose being further north here there were many still around, feeding up for the long journey back to their Russian breeding grounds.

Then a pleasant flypast. A juvenile Spoonbill flew across the reserve into the saltmarsh beyond. The black tips to the wings being the indicator to it's age.

A rare and breeding bird here is the Red Crested Pochard. These have become established from escapes. Occasionally there are wild birds that come from the continent but these are almost certainly feral individuals. Around 10 -21 pairs breed here in the UK. Mainly in Southern and Eastern parts and up to 500 birds can overwinter here. There were two males and two females on the reserve.

Avocets were here in numbers as is the norm these days which is great to see.
They are feisty characters and constantly bicker and banter to one another performing what seems to be some heirarchical posturing. Then they split up and feed or bother some other species that might threaten their territory.

In the marsh to the left of the hide two Pink Footed Geese strode around. Another species that spend the Winter here but should be leaving any day.

Along with the smallest wader, the Dunlin. It's black breast and belly in Summer plumage and another soon to leave.

Definitely staying put were the Greylag Geese and her offspring. Everyone loves a fluffy gosling and they were in with a shout for the cutest so far...

The Pink Footed Goose was unconcerned as it floated past the window.

Sandwich Terns perform a rather elegant mating ritual. After much submissive badgering of the male by the female, he mates her.

Wings down and crest up, they can mirror each other in what can be best described as regal strutting. Although she was happy to play submissive all the time I saw them.

 The Little Gull is, as the name suggests, just that and the smallest gull to visit these shores but only on migration. A few hundred pass through in Spring and under a thousand over winter here.

I've been lucky to see a few on my travels. Most recent was at Minsmere a few days previous.
In Summer they had black hoods. By the looks of this bird it is a first winter juvenile. The wing pattern like the Spoonbill being the giveaway.
Such a dainty thing and one of my favourite Gulls.

Time to move on and venture down the East Trail past the reedbeds and ponds.
Marsh Harriers were never too far away.

Some of the woodland birds are so used to humans here it's possible to get close. This male Chaffinch happily fed on the Willow buds just in front of me along the path.

On the East pond a family of Coot were going about their business.
Now this chick isn't winning any contests on beauty here I don't think, it's head has a reptilian air about it but I'll let you be the judge. I'm sure it's parents love them, which they were proving as they were constantly fed vegetation on demand.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder as they say and the Greylag chick next to them was cuteness personified.

It's parents wouldn't let it out of their sight.

Having reached the end of the path I headed back and decided on another walk up the West side to the beach.
Birdsong was all around the reserve and being in such a compact place full of natural life it's a great opportunity to link the song with the bird.
Male Reed Buntings sit in small trees expelling their jangling tune and quite often go unnoticed by a lot of people.   

Common Terns 'Keeyaked' their way as they scour the pools for small fish.

Even when they have caught a fish they are still able to call out. I'm sure this is done with satisfaction of landing their catch as they zig zag back to their mate.

On reaching the sea once more the tide was even further out. This is the place of endless wide beaches and enormous skies.

One last glance at this engaging expanse and I was off back towards the car park.

Common Toads were dotted along the pathway and so easy to step on one if you were distracted by the happenings all around.

As I neared the visitor centre a group of people were staring at the reed bed. Bearded Tits could be seen flying back and forth. Either nest building or feeding young. They were just too far away to manage a closer view to determine either way.

Unmistakable calls of Swifts screamed out across the marsh.

The wind could be heard through their stiff wingbeats as they hurtled past me, low over the raised path where I stood.

More birdsong rang out on the opposite side of the path, deep in the reeds. I couldn't see the bird at first but I knew from the scratchy warble that it emanated from a Sedge Warbler.
Sometimes it literally can be like finding a Warbler in a reed bed, rather than a needle in a haystack! 

Once located it gave some decent views.

A pleasing way to end my time here.

It was still only early afternoon and as I arrived back at base in good time I thought one last walk was in order around the patch.

Seeing as I missed out on the full walk the day before due to rain, I cut across from Wiveton and picked up the shore path from Cley to Blakeney.

As I meandered through the back roads before reaching Cley, Marsh Harriers circled above me.

A male and female performed a dual mid air. I couldn't ascertain if this was friendly or not.
Whatever it was, it didn't last long.

As I arrived at the sea wall path looking across into Cley, the slight layer of cloud left to the East and I was suddenly bathed in warm bright light.

Cow Parsley edged the path.

I glanced in the direction of my destination. Blakeney seemed quite a way to walk in the heat.

The river here is tidal, separating me from the gargantuan shingle spit that is the beginning of Blakeney Point. This is constantly growing longer and moving Westwards with the gradual motion of the sea. It currently stands at around three miles in length.

Avocet weren't too far away. One landed before me to feed in the shallow water.

Brent Geese still numbered in their hundreds. This is a regular sight and more on a Winters day here.

I turned the corner, Blakeney was dead ahead which was fortuitous as I was in need of shade, and some refreshment as my water bottle was empty.

I was unaware until reaching this sign that the River Glaven that feeds into the North Sea from Blakeney is the starting point of the 4000 mile journey of the Eel to the Sargasso Sea near Bermuda to spawn and then the return journey by the young to the river. A quite astonishing journey.  

The river front at Blakeney feels like stepping back in time.

And strangely enough, there is a pond to the left of the path that is home to a myriad of ducks.
This belongs to the Wildfowlers Association and is fenced off. Essentially a Zoo as the birds wings are clipped so they don't fly away.
Not my bag really but it was interesting to see the different species on display.

Garganey, which I have seen wild recently in Hampshire,

Pochard

A Blue Winged Teal and Cinnamon Teal that both live in North America, the Cinnamon Teal in South America also,

Hooded Mergansers, another North American Duck and part of the Sawbill family.

Pintail, which overwinter in this country

And North American Wood Duck which can be occasionally seen in the wild as escapes from collections.

All very pleasing to the eye but give me wild birds any day.

I sauntered off to find a hostelry..

By my reckoning, a quarter past five was exactly beer o'clock !

An excellent pub, great ale plus the landlord was very welcoming.

My route back was through the village picking up the back roads through the fields.

Garlic Mustard was plentiful, growing along the roadside verges. The leaves emitting the pungent smell when crushed.

 

Passing Sheila's way I hooked a right turn past Wiveton Church,

The road leads out into arable fields. At the top of one I could see two brown blobs. They were Hares keeping a low profile..

Green Alkanet was another common flower along the paths and verges, flowering from April to June.

Horse Chestnuts were in full bloom too. I've never really allowed myself such a close view of the pyramidal flower stalks, well not since a kid when we used to play in the fields at the end of the road. There were many beside the railway line there but we were more interested in Autumn when the conkers fell to the ground.

They are quite beautiful.
Horse Chestnuts have had infestations occurring since the mid eighties. You may have noticed in mid to late Summer the leaves browning very early. This is due to the Leaf Miner which is a small Moth laying eggs on the leaves. The larvae 'mine' through the leaf slowly turning it brown as though an early Autumn has beset the tree.
There is no evidence this has any long term detrimental health to the tree other than reduced size of fruit (conkers) or photosynthetic storage or reproductive capacity. The tree always grows normally the following year but may be infected in subsequent Summer seasons.

I was back at the flat for the last evening.
The Rabbits were as chilled out and nonchalant as ever as I opened the window to the bedroom.

I walked to the kitchen and then returned, my camera was just on the table next to the window. I glanced out and not four feet away my gaze met one of a Muntjac Deer. We were both so shocked to see each other unexpectedly that there seemed an age before one of us flinched. I went for my camera as quickly and as silently as I could but before I could raise my lens it bolted, Damn! I exclaimed, what a shot that would have been. Luckily I waited and it appeared again but further down the field from the hawthorns on the right.

An excellent way to finish my time here in East Anglia. My accommodation in Suffolk and Norfolk had been top notch, the wildlife as unpredictable and enthralling as ever, the people I met so warm and welcoming and the weather virtually perfect the whole time. I couldn't really ask for more. Well maybe a better view of a Bittern, and an Otter and a close up shot of that Muntjac but I'm splitting hairs. It had been a fantastic break ! 

My intent of a 9.30am departure the next day was met, which was good as I had a stop over planned in my head nearer to home if I managed to get there in good time.
My arrival at 2pm at Noar Hill in the Meon Valley in Hampshire is a yearly pilgrimage to meet a Duke and Duchess and bow to their exaltedness.
I parked in the lane amid the fields and walked up to this special little nature reserve deep in the heart of Hampshire which is managed by The Hampshire and Isle of Wight Wildlife Trust.
I opened the gate onto the old medieval chalk quarry and entered into a carpet of Cowslips. They cover the whole place so much so it's difficult not to step on one or two. 

Orchids are also a speciality here. Early Purple were out in force.

My first butterfly was a Dingy Skipper. I've always thought the name a little degrading. True, it's not the most garish of Lepidoptera and can been confused with a small brown moth but it has delicate understated features.

There were several around darting quickly through the yellow Cowslips but I was after something of similar size but of opposite ends of the spectrum.

Eventually I found one. The Duke of Burgundy ! It was a male too, so definitely a Duke!

This a perfect site for them. They thrive on chalk or limestone downland but have declined by nearly 50% in just over 20 years.

Their main colonies are predominately in central southern England with only a couple in the Lake District and on the Eastern side of Northern Britain.

Their caterpillars foodplant are Primulas, especially Cowslips, so they don't go without here.

Their decline has been linked to intensive farming and loss of habitat plus the cessation of coppicing in woodland sites and the resurgence of rabbits, as they crop the sward too low and destroy the foodplants.

What a little beauty though. I'm so lucky to live near colonies in the valley so I spent what time I could here to appreciate them before they die out for another year towards the end of June - early July.

Other species taking advantage of the Cowslips were Bee Flies. Their long proboscis delving deep into the trumpet shaped flowers.

I eventually and reluctantly dragged myself away and trudged off happy down the hillside.
On my way down I almost trod on a Slow Worm as it crossed the path before me.

It wasn't in a hurry so I took some time to get up close.
Such lovely blue markings on it's body.

It's actually a legless Lizard and not a worm or part of the Snake family at all. It has evolved and lost it's limbs thousands of years ago.

A great postscript to my holiday and always a joy to catchup with true royalty !

The title of this post is a line taken from the poem 'Blakeney to Cley Beach' by James Tipp
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blackeny-to-cley-beach/