Kites, Storms & Little Auk

From a lit kitchen, early mornings look black. Stepping outside, pitted lane, stone walls and sky are shades of grey; only owl haunted woods loom black. Robins signal daybreak with ‘tic, tic’ calls from lane-side shrubs and trees or flit up from the track, scarcely discernible grey flakes from almost underfoot. A single Song Thrush is practising a few bars of its part in the dawn chorus: just a taste of the sweetly rendered couplets ringing throughout the valley by March.

Red Kites are evident this past week: two separate birds flapping raggedly between ridge and woods in cold, descending, early morning air; a pair quartering stone walled improved pasture the windward side of the same ridge; another high over the coast road, utilising up-draughts from onshore breezes.

On the coast, high tides and heavy seas brought waves crashing over the breakwater, spraying white across choppy brown waters of the tidal lagoon. Boulders and pebbles rattle and grind in the surge and back swash of heavy waves.

On a calmer day, a party of black Scoter, totally absorbed in chasing, jousting and jockeying for status and mates, drifted right on shore, an opportunity to watch proceedings at close quarters. A wader flew directly down the beach, just offshore, dark head contrasted with white under-parts suggesting Turnstone, but wing beat suggesting smaller bird. As it approached, lack of characteristic bold flight pattern became apparent along with the realisation that this was not a wader but one of the Auk family comprising Puffins, Guillemots and Razorbills: too small even for Puffin and with tiny bill now clear in profile, this could only be Little Auk. Breeding in the high Arctic, this diminutive seabird is occasionally seen off north-east coasts with occasional ‘wrecks’ after Atlantic storms; a West coast sighting is a privilege.

Wildlife Wales Activities: www.wildlife-wales.co.uk