October Wings

On a wet week in October, goldcrests were the dominant feature of my discover wildlife holiday in North Devon.  They flocked over woodland, salt-marshes and moorland.  Some of my companions were unimpressed, claiming they were constant visitors to bird tables in their gardens - pfuf - not me. 

I loved watching their feathers radiate different colours as the sun caught their underbellies and then outstretched wings to glide up and away in the wind, before making the adjustment to swoop and change direction.

October is a good time to catch these birds congregating, having disposed of the breeding season.  Some flock together in readiness to migrate to warmer climes, but not the goldcrest.  For this tiny resident, it provides protection from predators; the changing light on a myriad of feathers confuses the raptors, and an extra pair of eyes help.  The bird parties pass through individual territories and some of these incumbents join the congregation, dropping out as the flock leaves their patch.

In woodland, flocks of long-tailed tits and their cousins could be heard above the canopy.  The easiest way to catch sight of them and study their numbers is to wait at a break in the tree cover.

Identifying their territories is easier during the breeding season, when it is possible to stand in one place and listen to their song.  This gives an idea of the size of each pairings domain and the exuberance of foodstuffs.

Redstarts were just arriving and I saw them flocking in the woodland below Dunkery Hill.  They come from Scandinavia.  For them, we are the warmer climes.  They hang back for favourable winds to make the journey, and whilst its damp and mild, are happy to feed and wait.  If head-on winds persist, a more hazardous journey has to be made and exhaustion makes them easy prey for Skewers, which knock them into the water.

Sustained rainfall held sway for the five days of my holiday, and as the groups minibus drove down a narrow lane on the last day, a farmer tried to move his sheep from a sodden field, but water gushed through the gateway as if from a pump.  The sheep would have none of it.

"What's happening?" our driver asked him.  "Do you think it'll rain?"

Kevin, leader of the discover wildlife campaign predicted the environmental agencies would be monitoring the situation in preparation for the kind of disaster that hit Lynmouth in 1952.

I donned my rainwear yet again and braved the mists of Exmoor.  In the fast flowing streams, Dippers fed on aquatic insects and their larvae.  Being shy creatures, they moved along the waterway as soon as we arrived.  Many would migrate downstream as the season hardened.

Our group did that later in the day, arriving in Lynmouth to view the gushing river.  Sure enough, a pair of dippers flitted onto rocks, scooted around them and dived after their prey.  Sturdy wings guided them through the water, before resuming their perch for an instant.  These birds cared nothing for the presence of people moving around on the pavement above them.

That evening, I heard on the news that flash floods had unexpectedly devastated Clovelly in North Devon.