Kittiwakes and growing chicks

This afternoon I have time to relax; with a full round of sites completed yesterday I only needed to check a few Guillemots and Razorbills whose chicks have reached the 15 day 'success' mark; it is a satisfying time when I can begin to reduce the number of birds I am watching, leaving the large chicks, now smart and mostly down-free, to make their final jump into the sea under the guidance of their parents.  One evening I intend to head down to High Cliff to see this fledging event; in calm conditions the chicks are cojoled from the ledge, by nudges from their mothers, and calls from their fathers on the water far below.  Photos and description to follow when they begin to jump in large numbers!

Kittiwake with small chick at South Stream

Around the island the dead heads of the Bluebell swathes have long since been obliterated by a rising tide of bracken.  This is getting tall in some areas, despite being burnt off in others by the frequent high winds and cold temperatures we have experienced this year.  There is a humid almost jungle-like feel to the South Stream research path, with Water Dropwort, campion, bracken and the occasional Common Male fern providing luxuriant cover, and hiding rabbit burrows from the unwary walker.

The Kittiwake ringing group at South Stream

A couple of days ago I joined Dave, Annette, Phil and Lewis on a trip to ring Kittiwakes at South Stream Cliffs; the birds are taken from the cliff by a noose on a pole (which they appear oblivious to until it descends over them and they are lifted from their ledge).  The noose (which is painless to them through their thick white plumage) is quickly removed, and they are held in soft bags for ringing before being released.  They soon return to their nests, unperturbed by their experience.  It is an interesting and skilful operation to observe, and also a chance to clamber over the rocks below the cliffs, where the Kittiwakes, Guillemots and Razorbills stare down at you from their tiered ledges.




Waiting for birds to come within reach

Kittiwakes on all the cliffs now have broods of small downy chicks, grey-white with stubby wings, up to three to a nest.  Although these families appear well, my surveys so far have revealed many breeding failures, some as a result of stormy seas washing nests off the cliff-face, others where nests were never completed.  It is unclear whether the inclement weather or some other factor is to blame for this apparently poor performance.

A heavy swell endangers Kittiwakes nests at the Wick

Evening social life on the island has been revolving around the Euros, with Dave and Phil joining us from North Haven to enjoy the games, and the entertainment of trying to get cans into the recycling box without moving (which is a very hit-and-miss enterprise!).  The mood was somewhat punctured by England's exit on penalties; I am now free from the Birdlog/football clash - the usual outcome of which you can probably guess! We have also been joined by Ali, the new long term volunteer, who seems enthusiastic about her stay, and enjoyed her first reptile transect (we saw a new record of 57 slow worms!)... I will attempt some reptile photos in the coming days...

Dawn on Skomer

The main track, looking south. Below, north valley in mist

This morning I set my alarm for half four, so that I could head down to the Harold Stone for sunrise.  The stone is a prehistoric monument, and there are a number of theories about its original use.  I was curious to see where the solstice sun would rise relative to it, and given that tomorrow (the longest day) is likely to be overcast, I took the opportunity to see the sunrise a day early.

As the dark of night receded I walked down the track to North Haven, mist drifting about me low over the ground, North Valley swathed in the fog to my left, and the sea silver smooth; there was barely a breath of wind.  The air was fresh, the flowers and vegetation damp with dew, and the sky was streaked pink and grey, with a plume of steam rising from the refinery at Milford.

Low over St David's peninsular a bank of grey cloud prevented me seeing the sun break the horizon, and in the end I had to guess at where it had initially risen.  But the island and the view out over the bay were stunning; well worth the early start!

Above, sunrise from the Harold Stone, below, the stone at dawn

Update: The Myth of the Individual

19/06/12: I've just put a new essay on my 'Thoughts and Comments' page, about the individual and society - if you are interested, just follow the tab above to reach the right page...

Creative Writing Update: The Bond

I've just added a poem called ''The Bond' to my Creative Writing page, which came to me during a walk out to the coast on a stormy evening a couple of days ago - you can find it via the tabs above...

More storms

For a second week, the days before the weekend are windblown and wet.  I am sitting in the library at North Haven, after a lunchtime meeting and several cups of tea.  Out over St Brides a tanker rolls on the swell, and thousands of Shearwaters criss cross, just above the grey waves. 

Breakers hit the Mew Stone, with Skokholm beyond

Today my first Razorbill chick reached its official fledging date: the day where I can count its parents as successful.  Its fate on jumping from the cliff is, of course, yet to be decided, but for my figures it is the success of rearing offspring that counts.  This evening we have a party (after the football!) to mark the end of Molly's stay, and to say goodbye to this week's volunteers (although they are unlikely to be able to leave until Sunday given the weather...) Hopefully I will be able to visit my sites again tomorrow afternoon (if the wind lessens) and tick off some more successful chicks!

I have added a short descriptive piece to my Creative Writing page, so check it out if you like...

Hatching eggs and a swim with Puffins

12/06/12

Today a heavy sea mist rolled in over the Wick and High Cliff, and despite the sunshine I cannot survey for now.  Over the last few days I have been busy watching eggs hatching; many Guillemots have fluffy grey chicks, their tiny beaks poking out momentarily between wing and back, the chicks themselves safely tucked into soft-feathered brood patches.  The Puffins have been in relaxed and inquisitive mood, yesterday pecking at my feet as I watched the cliffs, and pulling at my boot laces, which obviously looked like good nesting material!

I swam over to the other side of North Haven on one particularly calm evening, and they let me in amongst one of their gatherings, swimming gently with the birds all around me, their gentle calls mixing with the sound of the water, and the cries of gulls overhead.  Then one took fright, and they were gone in an explosion of beating wings and a spray of water.  Before I turned for home, a final treat; a Fulmar swept low above me and landed only a couple of metres away; much bigger than the Puffins, the tubes on the top of their beaks are used to excrete excess salt - the birds spend long periods at sea, without access to fresh water.  He regarded me quizzically for a while, before taking flight; his large, flat feet pattering over the water as he took to the air.

Update: I have recently added to my Creative Writing page, just follow the link at the top of this page to take a look...

Nature and Fear: New 'Thoughts and Comments' Post

Just updated the 'Thoughts and Comments' page of the blog, with a short piece on 'Nature and Fear' - enjoy!

A party and a new team member

Yesterday morning I took the new long-term volunteer (Molly) to Bull Hole to show her the Guillemot and Razorbill sites. She is taking over from Aaron, who left on Friday to start a new job in the Brecons. On Thursday night another BBQ marked the end of his stay.  With fog drifting over the island we sheltered in the old farm - long ruined, but with Perspex canopies providing protection from the elements. We also used the occasion to draw our Euro 2012 sweepstake, which Sarah (the assistant warden) enthusiastically organised, writing out teams and collecting money from even the most reluctant football followers.

The farm, with the ruined farmhouse on the right

Of course, being the most interested in the tournament, myself and Dave ended up with two of the teams least likely to win - Sweden and Poland respectively - and my attempt to swap with Tom for Ireland was quickly stopped - teams and people were already matched up in Sarah's notebook! The night grew later, the jokes more inappropriate and the drinks stronger - in the end I turned in at three, leaving the others chatting by candlelight in the mist-swathed farmhouse. So Aaron left before a Guillemot had hatched (although he saw a Razorbill chick on his last survey); when I got to Bull Hole on Friday a Guillemot chick was inevitably the first thing I saw, just outside the survey plot.



The farm from the west

The upshot of all this is that Molly is taking over Aaron's sites at Bull Hole at a time which is both rewarding (watching new hatchlings never fails to bring a smile to your face) and challenging (daily visits are needed to get accurate hatch dates, so that chick ages can be monitored properly). She seems enthusiastic, and was lucky enough to see two new chicks almost immediately as I showed her the sites. Having spent the last month or so on Skokholm, there is a lot for her to get used to - there are many more people on Skomer, and a different set of jobs, including giving introductory talks and dealing with day visitors.

Razorbills at Bull Hole through the telescope (a bit blurry!)

With Molly settled in at the hide I made my way round to the Wick, passing a family of Ravens near Skomer Head, cronking and spiralling acrobatically in the rising wind. The sea surged around the land below the spot from which I view the cliffs, and the Razorbills were sitting tight in the cold. Puffins lined the cliff tops and flew in off the sea, many with gleaming silver sand eels for their young, sometimes almost stationary where they tried to progress against the wind. In the end I gave up - the conditions were just too blustery to get a clear view of the cliffs through my 'scope - and I returned to a hot cup of tea and the BBC coverage of the Jubilee celebrations (with additional and entertaining commentary from the volunteers who joined us for the occasion).

English Stonecrop in flower at the Wick

This evening I had my first swim for a week or so, and with rain and high winds forecasted for the rest of the week perhaps the last for a while; the Razorbills close to the landing stage watched my progress with interest, and it was enjoyable to be back in the water, albeit in a fairly heavy swell!

Thrift in flower near the steps, and (below) Razorbills on the cliffs