The alarm went off seemingly five minutes
after I went to sleep. "But it’s Saturday" my brain screamed! Saturday or not,
today was a day to be up and out as soon as possible. On my way home from work
on Friday, a five minute walk through Wanstead Village netted 200 Swallows all
streaming steadily north. Deskbound all day, I’d been hearing reports of
stunning numbers of hirundines over the patch, and was glad I’d managed to see
just a part of it. Nonetheless I felt that there was a real possibility of the
passage continuing on Saturday – a quick look out of the study window showed
leaden skies with heavy black clouds, potentially ideal weather for pushing
birds down and keeping them low. So it was that I hurridly dressed, picked up my
trusty bins and nipped out into the pre-dawn to head over to what we call the
“VizMig point” on Wanstead Flats.
It was pretty quiet at first, but at around
seven somebody turned on the Swallow tap. Birds began to pass me at anywhere
from knee height to a couple hundred metres up. A trickle became a steady flow,
and then they started coming in waves, predominantly heading north-west. I
attempted to count the birds, as the team had done the previous day, but quickly
conceded defeat. Sand Martins were coming through in small numbers, and
gradually the House Martins began to increase in number, although often higher
up than the bulk of the Swallows.
The next hour was a real highlight of the
decade I’ve now spent watching the patch here in Wanstead. Tony was also out,
and has written about his feelings here, and he has it spot on. It was birding
of the highest quality. Visible migration is always exciting as you get a real
sense of the seasons and the inexorable approach of a change, but this was the
best I’ve ever encountered. That includes Falsterbo so I guess the patch always
elevates itself above other places - getting up early on this particular day was
perhaps the best decision I’ve recently made. The sky was full of birds – a scan
with bins into the far distance revealed thousands, like swarms of west coast
midges. You know when you look up at the sky at night with the naked eye and see
hundreds upon hundreds of stars, and then look up through binoculars and see the
hundreds transform to into hundreds of thousands? It was like that – I could see
tons of birds over the copses, but then through bins I realized this was just a
fraction of the activity. The threatening skies seemed to push them ever towards me,
and facing south east I had a spectacular view of more birds than I think I have
ever seen (Hornoya cliffs perhaps being the only real contender) moving steadily
through at all heights. As the hour progressed the numbers of House Martin rose,
and although I made no attempt to record numbers, it too had to be in the
thousands. Whether this was a localized front, or was occurring over the whole
of the south-east I have no way of knowing, but my assessment having witnessed
this mass movement is that Swallows and House Martins are doing OK in at least
some places. I am hoping that one of these places in future will be my house, as
I’ve just bought a few Martin ”cups” for my eaves which will be in place next
season.
By eight it was mostly over. A few trickles,
but as it began to brighten up the birds disappeared as quickly as they had
arrived. Hopefully they graced a few more patches as the day progressed, but the
likelihood is that as the fronts dissipated the birds got higher and higher
until they were lost from view. But while it lasted it was bloody brilliant.
Magical. And sublimely conveyed. These are special times that cannot be twitched, they are bestowed upon you by the birding gods.
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