View From The Shed by Shaun Finnie - THE AGE OF PLASTIC

THE AGE OF PLASTIC

I know what you're thinking. You've read the title and thought, “Oh no, this is going to be one of those worthy but accusatory finger-pointing pieces where he bangs on about how we, mankind, have ruined the planet and how we're drowning in plastic and won't somebody please do something to save us?”

Well yes, we have and yes we are and yes I wish that somebody could as well... but no, that's not the main thrust of this particular blog. Keep reading future editions of VIEW FROM THE SHED though, I'm sure I'll get around to that depressingly important subject soon enough.

This week I left the comfort of my shiny new shed and took a walk around Worsbrough Mill Country Park. It's very near where I live and just six miles away from Old Moor. If you've never been I'd urge you to give it a go. Take the kids when they've got the waterwheel turning to mill flour, it's a great half-day out. And there's also a reservoir surrounded by woodland. That provides excellent habitat for birds which in turn provide excellent views for birders. When I visited there were Tree Sparrows and Willow Tits to be seen, and a pair of Great Crested Grebes doing their beautiful courtship display dance. Completely spellbinding.

But the bird that especially caught my eye was one that we don't usually get in these parts of Barnsley. In fact they're not usually seen in the UK at all. In among the usual collection of Mallards, Moorhen and Coots was an unusual duck that seemed to have been painted from the last dregs of some Celestial Artist's many paint pots. Mostly brown underneath, a bit of a green head like a Mallard, white chunks here and there, and a black back and wings. Oh, and I almost forgot the intricate white striping like he'd been thrashed with twigs dipped in Tipp-Ex. It's either gorgeous or a total and utter mess, depending on your point of view. Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. In this case, the eye would be most appreciative if owned by a female CHILOE WIGEON, for that's what this little stranger was.

No, I'd never heard of it either. He's a South American cousin of our own dear Eurasian Wigeon, the one with the rusty head and the yellow splodge on its forehead. There are loads of these at Old Moor at present, should you need to check. And he's also related to the Gadwall, a most understated duck and also resident of these parts. They're all dabbling ducks of the genus Mareca, for those who like these scientific details. For the rest of us, they're little ducks and they all look the same in the dark. And, like all Wigeons, I have named him Bradley, after the cyclist. Yes, they're all Bradley Wigeons...

So I saw this Chiloe Wigeon, marvelled at his weird beauty for a while, took some identification photos and ticked him off on my list of 'Bird Species That I've Seen This Year' (84 and counting). I also added him to my 'Bird Species That I've Seen Ever Ever Anywhere Ever' list (314) when I got home. But should I have? Many other, maybe most other, serious birders would have rejected this pretty bird as a legitimate sighting. “Yeah, it's pretty and all but it doesn't count.” Why not? “Because it's a plastic”.

This birdwatching lark can get really difficult sometimes, can't it? A plastic bird is defined as one that has escaped or been deliberately released from a zoo, breeding program or some other captive bird collection. It wasn't born and/or raised in the wild so, to some, it doesn't count as a wild bird. Therefore it cannot count towards any lists that I may be keeping.

It's true to say that this particular duck is indeed very used to humans. So much so in fact that it was almost eating seed out of my hand. If I'd opened the bag for him he'd have probably jumped right in and happily munched away as I carried him to the car. There's no way that you could call him timid. And the big ring around his leg was another indicator that he might not have flown all the way from Uruguay. The furthest they migrate in winter is usually just over the border north to Brazil. Flying all the way here to dear old Blighty would be a bit much for him. He's only got little wings, bless. So I'm willing to accept that this bird hasn't lived his entire life in the wilds of South Yorkshire. But as of right now he's not a captive bird. He's not like a Harris's Hawk who's done a runner from a country fair display because he fancies a day off from work. Those birds are so used to being hand fed that they'll turn up at home as soon as they get the tummy rumbles. This Chiloe Wigeon has gone feral now. He's fending for himself, sleeping rough and jostling with the other ducks for the best life he can make for himself – just like a wild bird would.

Some will disagree. Once a plastic, always a plastic. That's fine, that's their view. One of the delights of birding is that they can keep their own lists in their own way and I can keep mine how I wish too. If you think I'm wrong, come and have a chat at the Old Moor Welcome Shed. We'll have a friendly discussion and a laugh. And we can definitely agree that a Chiloe Wigeon is a very unusual and pretty duck. May little Bradley of Worsbrough have a long and happy life.

Who cares how he's classified. Plastic? Fantastic! But please, make sure that you recycle. We have a planet to save, one bottle at a time.

Oh, and in case you were wondering who writes up our sightings board on the Welcome Hut, that will be Kylie, our South African Membership Queen. We could write a whole blog about her...