In these past 3 weeks there has been an eruption of birds out on the fen to say the least. All the way from bitterns and cranes to swallows and little gulls, spring has certainly not disappointed! In this article I'll dive into the secretive lives of some of the rare marshland species slinking into the spotlight this month.
Let's begin with what is clearly the unchallengeable champion of the Broads: one revered and awe-inspiring species that cannot be forgotten by those who've been lucky enough to see it. The common crane has made a remarkable comeback after becoming extinct in the UK.
They were refound in Norfolk when a breeding attempt was recorded at Horsey (only a few miles from Strumpshaw) in 1981. Since then, the population has continued to grow and expand to new locations, a heartwarming return to our rich Norfolk landscape. I am way too excited to say, that cranes fledged a chick last year on the reserve. It's a huge success, giving testimony to why conservation is always worth it. The continued careful management of the fen and reedbed to maintain good quality habitat, has allowed this species to set up a breeding territory and thrive.
If you want to help create habitat for this icon of Strumpshaw's ecosystem, you can provide a hand volunteering in a variety of roles. Keep an eye out for any opportunities on the RSPB website. This also offers the opportunity to see a wealth of the fen's wildlife: I've seen drinker moths, bitterns, green sandpipers and a whole host more working there in the summer, and it's of course a fulfilling cause to work towards.
The Common Crane holds the grand title of Britain's tallest, measuring up at an astonishing 115 centimetres! It's adorned with an erect, messy bustle of tail feathers, black-shrouded neck as if dipped in dark chocolate, and a subtle smidge of shimmering scarlet on the nape. In flight it is the height of avian grace: slow, controlled beats of ashy wings, glossy black legs trailing and gangly neck extended to its fullest (a feature distinguishing it from heron species).
Up to 13 cranes have been seen on the reserve this year, although many are passing through presumably on their way to traditional breeding grounds on the east coast. However, last year's breeding pair are seemingly sticking around: in my experience they can be rather elusive, but a walk along the Fen Trail or near Lackford Run could allow you to hear their distinctive trumpeting call. Fen Hide can also provide a good watchpoint: scan the cleared channels of shallow water about 300 meters from the viewing spot, and they may emerge from the dense vegetation. This tactic can also produce another, much more secretive wading bird, which at this time of year creeps from the shadows and tends to be much easier to see...
Of course I'm talking about the bittern. This is an enigmatic species of the Broads and another symbol of conservation success. Although a difficult species to survey and only counted by the number of booming males each year, it was clear that by 1977 the population had crashed to an all-time low. Only 11 males were counted that year, but due to preservation and creation of their key habitat (extensive reedbed with ditches, channels and clearfell), that figure has increased to a colossal 234 as of the 2023 survey results, from the Bittern Monitoring Programme co-ordinated by the RSPB. You can clearly see that the species has skyrocketed since its period of devastatingly low numbers, but even in those drastic days the stronghold remained the Norfolk Broads. This gem of a natural park has always been a safe haven for the birds, and now they have clawed their way back up to stability, they can be seen relatively easily in the right spots.
Although the colours are seemingly mismatched for this family, this is actually a species of heron. It feeds on eels, sticklebacks and amphibians lurking in the darkness of densely vegetated marshes and reedbeds, which it stalks masterfully with slow, deliberate movements. The bittern's plumage is an intricately camouflage blend of tawny-browns and inky-blacks, woven together in a tapestry of streaks, bars and trails. They can, without any effort, disappear into their jungle of dead reeds and stems despite being in plain sight. I can't overstate this. They are masters of hide-and-seek, backed up by the fact that so many of the best young birders I know seem to be abjectly eluded every time they search. Well, recently I managed to beat this trend of them being impossible to photograph so I'm VERY relieved to say I actually have a shot to use in this article…
Anyway, I'm becoming vastly sidetracked. There are a couple of tactics for seeing bitterns on the reserve. Usually waiting in Fen Hide for several hours at any time of year should produce a sighting, but in June bitterns are feeding chicks, and take flight much more regularly to move between feeding areas and the nest.
The same thing goes for Tower Hide, which can be the better option when the birds are nesting. Sometimes, if you're very lucky and there's an "a" in the month, you might even get to watch one performing its magnificent booming song. When my ears were first graced with that guttural croak, I was sure that I was listening to a particularly dodgy broken drain, and was half considering saying something to the visitor centre (this was at Hickling). But all of a sudden I spotted the source of this noise; silently gliding over the swaying reeds, swooping powerfully on low arched wingbeats; I had no idea what I was looking at given my young age, but it was so impressive.
In the case of both of these Broads icons, it is always worth the wait to clap eyes on them. They take a lot of time, effort, and often many return trips to see, but there is nowhere better than Strumpshaw Fen to bask in the glowing glory of bitterns and cranes.