Nothing here?! You're joking!

I always find it a bit odd when visitors tell me they have seen nothing after a walk round the reserve, because I can't remember an occasion when there was nothing here (i.e. no birds, no dragonflies, no mammals, no fish, etc). Only last weekend, some visitors told me that the reserve has a reputation for being a pretty place where one doesn't see anything. Mind you, the same visitors had just seen an otter catch a fish a few metres in front of them, so their own opinion has changed.

Anyway, after a day of office work, dentist, and more office work, I popped down to the reserve yesterday at 5.30pm, intending to stay for half an hour or so. Three hours later...

 As I walked into the reserve from the East Gate, I was greeted by the familiar sounds of reed warblers in the reedbed behind Spring Hide, a chiffchaff calling from some willows, and a water rail squealing not far away. There are plenty of these 'bread and butter' species still around. I stopped briefly on the path to Reedbed Hide to watch several chiffchaffs and reed warblers in the elder bushes, feeding on insects in the evening sun. Now that the elder berries are ripening, they are very popular with the Sylvia species such as blackcap, garden warbler, whitethroat and lesser whitethroat, as well as blackbirds and song thrushes. At this time of year, one of the best places for these species is the car park when the morning sun warms the bushes facing east.

As I walked towards Reedbed Hide, I became aware of lots of small birds in the tops of all the tall trees as they launched themselves into the air, apparently fly-catching. They turned out to be chaffinches, perhaps half a dozen on each tree top, totalling at least 50 in all. There must have been an emergence of a particular species of insect, of which they were taking advantage.

Arriving at Reedbed Hide, the usual suspects were going about their business - mallards dabbling, a tufted duck diving, two herons stalking, and moorhens picking their way round the muddy margins where we cut the reeds last week. Two young lads told me what they had seen earlier in the day - a pair of teal and a marsh harrier. Their descriptions of the head pattern of the male teal, and the plumage and behaviour of the harrier, left me in no doubt of their identification. Of course, it helped to know that both these species are regular visitors to Fowlmere in the autumn. As we talked, a young water rail dashed in and out of the reeds into the cut area by the mere, and about 20 swallows flitted over the water, alternately drinking and catching flies. Small flocks of swallows and house martins can often be seen flying over the mere, especially at this time of year when they are migrating, and are sometimes accompanied by one or two sand martins.

After half an hour, I walked back to the nature trail to check the owl nestbox. This was strategically placed a few years ago so that it is clearly visible from the path but not easily disturbed by the casual visitor. Sure enough, a well-feathered barn owl was visible in the entrance, looking rather drowsy. I thought it was one of the adults because we had been thinking that their breeding attempt had failed, but in the light of later observations I suspect this is actually a young bird that is almost ready to fledge.

Satisfied with what I had seen, I started to retrace my steps towards Spring Hide when I heard the distinctive call of a green sandpiper as it flew towards the mere. Not having seen one for a month, I decided to return to Reedbed Hide for a view, but before I could move a barn owl appeared in front of me, hunting over the long grass. I watched it as it got closer until suddenly it spotted me only ten yards away, and veered off sharply with that characteristic expression of surprise at being seen.

Back at Reedbed Hide, a Dutch visitor informed me that the sandpiper had departed westwards, but I decided to stay for a few more minutes anyway. Cue the barn owl, hunting over the reedbed and grassy tracks and passing within a few yards of the hide, before suddenly dropping down to catch some unsuspecting rodent. Prey in talons, the owl made a beeline for the nestbox, which is when I started to think that perhaps there were young in the nest after all. Shortly afterwards, a barn owl appeared over the reedbed again, but this one was different, with darker markings on its flight feathers (the first bird's primaries and secondaries had been almost pure white). Over the course of the next hour, I saw these birds carrying prey towards the box five times. Note to self: now is the time to start checking the young owls as they take their first steps outside the box and start climbing the tree.

Meanwhile, two kingfishers had appeared over the mere, each selecting a post from which to fish. Eventually one caught something which it took back to its post, and proceeded to bash its brains out (figure of speech). Unlike other fishers such as herons and cormorants, kingfishers obviously prefer their food dead rather than alive. The fish was big enough to be identified - a kingfisher eating a perch on a perch!

 While all this was going on, flocks of swallows kept reappearing, then disappearing, but slightly more each time. As the light started to fail it became clear that they were going to roost in the reedbed, but they didn't come right down until it was almost too dark to see them as they shot past the hide, skimming the tops of the reeds just a few feet away. I reckon there were about 200 at the end.

There was just about enough light for me to make my way back to the van, accompanied by two noisy tawny owls presumably having an argument. And the bird I didn't see - a male redstart on the edge of the reserve, discovered by one of the regular birders who visits the reserve several times each week.

I realise this blog post is much longer than usual, but I really wanted to tell the sceptics what Fowlmere can be like if you visit at the right time and have the patience to watch and wait. It is such a shame that I saw only eight other people with whom to share the birds that evening.