Mid January in England should be in the grip of Winters' fist but our definition of Winter comes in bursts of a few days rather than a prolonged seasonal onslaught these days and very localised. It had been so mild thus far.
This was a Sunday sojourn back in the old haunt of Pennington and Keyhaven on the south coast of the New Forest. A treasure trove of goodies..
The sun had just risen. I was champing at the bit to record this daily feat but had missed it by ten minutes as I drew up in the van at Keyhaven harbour.
It was ok really, the low cloud had obscured the sun's initial rays so I caught the aftermath along the harbour. It was a weird light too. Dark clouds behind producing a calm ethereal scene. The lack of wind helped as well.
Reports over the last few days of a Red Throated Diver entering the harbour to feed among the boats was the initial reason to start my walk from here. It was high tide, so I thought the perfect conditions for a close encounter of a normally shy and distant bird that usually inhabits the open ocean.
Having chatted to a passing birder who had drawn a blank, my hopes took a dive themselves..(pun intended)
Still, I had a nice walk along the coastline to enjoy which can throw up any manner of unexpected sights and maybe it would show up later in the day upon my return.
Turnstones were the ever present waders on the shore as I started out along the coast path.
The strange light enhanced the photographic opportunities out on the marsh. High tide helped too.
Lots of ducks, geese and waders were feeding in the shallows. Here was a Curlew, very wary of me as I passed by.
Brent Geese visit these shores in winter from their home in Iceland. A tad warmer here without doubt.
As the Brent glided through, the reflection of light in the water enhanced their silhouettes. Their subtle gargling contact calls are the sound of winter here, along with whistling Wigeon and the bubbling call of the Curlew.
On my right was the marsh with The Solent beyond, framed by the huge length of curving shingle spit that ends with Hurst Castle to the West, The Isle of Wight is South within touching distance across the narrow channel. I was plodding East all the while.
To my left there are a succession of lagoons that link all the way up to Lymington to the East, these usually provide great views of all sorts of things, each with varying depths and differing vegetation creating all manner of living and feeding opportunities for all sorts of species.
As I reached Keyhaven Lagoon a bird flew a few feet above my head across and out towards the marsh, from it's shape, speed and flap - flap - glide flight pattern, I knew immediately it was a Peregrine Falcon. These wonderful raptors always draw out a sense of wonder and awe in me. Powerful, fast predators. They inhabit these shores in winter for obvious reasons.
I fumbled for my camera slung by my side, completely inadequate reflexes to do real justice to this aerobatic master. It was gone in a few seconds, I had barely enough time for a few cursory shots as it wound down to it's post out in the centre of the marsh a few hundred metres away.
And there it sat, plotting it's next move for a meal..
I glanced to it's left. There was a second bird sat on the large block out on the salt marsh.
Many people walked on past, oblivious to these mighty creatures sat nonchalantly before us.
I had my eye out for a rare duck too. A male Scaup had been around for a few days, traversing the whole area so it was toss up where it would turn up next.
I passed Fishtail and Butts Lagoons without success, although these were populated by many other ducks such as Teal, Pintail, Wigeon, and Gadwall, plus Brent and Canada Geese.
Next up was Jetty Lagoon. No Scaup there but out on the disused jetty itself some Dunlin were roosting, waiting for the tide to recede and begin feeding again.
Pennington Lagoon was next up. This long and narrow stretch of water usually throws up a sighting of Spotted Redshank. I was to be rewarded with some great sights of one of my favourite waders which was feeding alone. I managed to capture it eating what looks like a tiny fish or mollusc.
They have a characteristic belly deep way of feeding which helps with identification, often head down and tail up. Plus a subtle speckled winter plumage. In summer they have a wonderful black covering although they do not breed in Britain or Ireland but in Russia and Scandinavia.
A not too dissimilar bird although slightly larger with longer legs and bill, the Black Tailed Godwit sat preening while the Redshank fed.
Rather than walking the whole sea wall path to Normandy Marsh at Lymington - bearing in mind the length of walk back that was ahead - I cut across diagonally to Moses Lock, missing out a hefty chunk.
At the aforementioned marsh the Avocets were pinging around in alarm. Something must have upset them. Quite possibly a raptor. Merlins and Peregrines regularly patrol this patch.
Even the larger Brent Geese were nervous too.
One lone Avocet seemed oblivious to the supposed threat.
I soon found the possible perpetrator. A third Peregrine sat out on a post on the island opposite Normandy. Again, easy to miss if you haven't got a decent lens with you.
The Isle of Wight is in the background and the sailing club was in full force on The Solent as the Peregrine sat brooding in the centre of the shot.
Lapwing, the most nervous of all the waders were still to be calmed enough to descend to earth.
The marsh was pretty busy today. Sometimes the walk all the way here can yield very little but today was a very good one and seemed to be building all the while.
I began the long slog back to Keyhaven harbour but my route was blocked by a couple of curious photographers pointing their lenses across the ditch just back from the marsh.
I had to be instructed to the position of the whereabouts of their concentration, not ten feet from the path across the ditch to a small oak tree, hiding the Fisher King...so well camouflaged.
And so began some thirty minutes of Kingfisher ping pong...
Although just a few feet stood between us, with runners, cyclists, dogs, children and noisy ignorant humans speeding past us. This little gem wasn't bothered in the slightest. Clearly used to the hubbub before it, it carried on about it's daily business of trying to stay alive.
In amongst this furore of fishing, another shy creature popped out from amongst the reeds - it's usual place of comfort - as we were trying to capture the Kingfisher. This Water Rail sauntered before us with a minnow in it's bill.
Having been distracted by the Rail, we found the Kingfisher roosting under the gorse bordering the ditch. She (Having the lower mandible orange is the sign she is a she ) sat for ages not bothered at all about fishing, or the people walking past so close by.
We waited for what seemed like forever, ready for the strike into the water. Always just missing that initial burst and splash...
I managed a half hearted shot of her plunge with success. She took off with her prize around the corner to consume it.
I thanked my colleagues for their help and wandered off satisfied from my sightings and shots. I wondered what else was in store?
I decided on the longer route back. Heaven knows why?
Wigeon on the Salterns Pool past the boating lake made for some great views in the light.
As did another Spotted Redshank
And it's cousin the Common Redshank
Which wasn't at all bothered with the attention I was giving it..
Past Moses Dock once more but out South along the longer sea wall path now, looking back across to Normandy with the masts of Lymington Marina in the background.
The tide was fast receding now. As I stood atop the sea wall - some ten feet above sea level - I spotted some lovely Goldeneye ducks out on the sea. For a better close up picture I had the notion to get lower down to sea level, gaining a much better photographic shot, much better on their level I thought.
The wall itself is a jigsaw of interlinking bricks. At the top there are mainly short grasses and vegetation with the concrete bricks the stand out strata.
At the lower end by the emerging beach is a couple of feet of algae which the tide laps against.
Now I know this is like walking on sheet ice but for enough time I seemed to forget this eventuality, blindly carrying on into the abyss whilst having the dangling carrot of elegant ducks before me.
One step on the green and I was turned ass over tip, my coccyx smashed against the rock solid floor.
It was one of those times where life seemed to go in slow motion. My thoughts ranged from, 'Opps, how can I stop this from really hurting' passing through 'can I save my new camera and jacket from serious damage?' to 'fuck me, that really hurt, have I broken anything?!! '
I staggered to my feet in searing pain, shock and rushing adrenaline. Definitely not a good move. Yet incredibly, I got up and managed to rattle off these shots
Having managed to climb the sea wall, very gingerly I might add, I gathered my thoughts and my dignity, what was left of it - thankfully nobody witnessed my pratfall - and I carried on walking, all the while rubbing my back, knowing I had another two miles to walk yet !
Then I got word on the internet. The elusive Red Throated Diver had been seen close in at Keyhaven Harbour. My head said run, my body - with camera, binoculars and telescope slung around my neck said after that fall, no way mate! I kind of met those thoughts halfway and walked at a purposeful rate.
Halfway back to Keyhaven and the solace of my van, I spoke to a couple of birders looking for things and general chat about what has been about.
'Have you seen the Scaup' they asked .My reply was in the negative.
'Let us know if you see it' they asked again. My reply was in the positive this time.
I said I was off to try to see the Diver, although the tide was such, it had probably gone out to sea.
Not 50 metres on I saw a chap with a telescope and camera pointed on a sleeping duck on Fishtail Lagoon.
I stood nearby and set up mine in that general direction. There was the aforementioned Scaup. Thanks for the heads up mate, as I asked him if that was that rare duck. He agreed sheepishly... I signalled to the birders I had passed by, they were not too far distant. 'It was here' I motioned...
It gradually awoke enough to capture this lovely drake...Quite possibly a first winter male.
I carried on, happy with the rare sight of bird that breeds in the higher northern hemisphere in summer and certainly never this far south.
My new friends had now tagged along. One was intent on seeing the Diver as he had never seen one before.
Passing Keyhaven Lagoon for the last time, the outflow from it was spitting out all manner of delights to feed the waders gathering there.
Another Spotted Redshank..
and Grey Plover too. Normally so reticent when it comes to close human contact.
Not so when food was all abundant.
And so to the last leg of my walk. We had reached Keyhaven harbour but the tide was so low that all was left were beached boats and a snaking river leading out to the Solent, long distant. Surely the Red Throated had long gone I muttered in desperation. 'Good grief such a beautiful bird, I should never have spent so long with that Kingfisher' I thought.?
To rub salt into the wounds, we passed several people out for a Sunday stroll remarking on the fabulous Diver really close by in the harbour.
The closer we got the more my heart literally sank. Still people remarked on the fact it was there a few minutes ago !!
We got to the last southerly viewpoint and set up our scopes, scanning the winding water through the boats. Nothing....
Then I got sight of it. Unmistakable upturned beak with a dart shaped head. Boom!!
Another one of those birds that sends a shiver through my body. Don't know why exactly. Probably because it's so elusive a lot of the time. Their winter plumage is pretty dull in comparison to the summer too. Another bird that breeds in the far north of Europe yet elicits a thrill on sighting here in winter. It might be the least favourable season to some but there can be some fabulous things to see here.
It continued to feed along the narrow stretches. Sometimes in company with the darker Cormorants. It never came too close however. I was happy to see it though, how could I complain?
The sun was almost close to setting by now. My back was minging with pain but my new found colleagues where so pleased at the sight of the Diver, they offered to buy me a pint at the adjacent pub. I agreed thankfully. I needed a decent painkiller. My doctor has always told me, alcohol is the best pain relief. So it was real shame to discover the pub was closed !
Nevermind, I had a comfortable seat in my van for the journey home with some good music and a wonderful sunset as I reached my journeys end. Well, just missing it by ten minutes as I had done some eight hours previously, but still pretty good as I watched a car carrier slip up Southampton Water.
It just happened to be a full moon too. In fact it was a lunar eclipse and blood red moon in a couple of hours.
I'm afraid I was so exhausted from the long day and upturn in my equilibrium I was needing my bed, so I missed it's totality, but I sure felt it...
The title of this post is a line taken from the poem ' The Moon and the Sun' by Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/90534/the-moon-and-the-sun/
