The rain had nearly ceased, so we decided to make the most of it. We pulled on our boots, grabbed the binoculars and off we went. We were at stover country park, one of my favourite places to be while we were in lockdown. The rain then had just about ceased, but then there was the odd drop left on the trees. We had the lake in our sight as we crept closer along the damp path. Always, the croaks and quacks of mallards were in our ears and soon we saw them. All sat on the banks, stabbing at some seed with their large bills. For a moment, the whir of wings drowned out everything else and then stopped, as abruptly as it had began. In a channel swam two gorgeous male mandarin ducks. Their brilliant orange plumage almost shone in the evening light and their green glossy crests met in contrast with their bright, rusty red crowns. What brilliant birds.
About 15 tufted ducks were wondering around in the shallows, diving for what ever they could find. At a distance they look simply black and white, but at close range, they’re much more. The black turns out to be glossy, oily green and it meets with a white area on each side. The long, wispy crest flows from the crown and curves down towards the back.
Another 6 birds gathered round in some spindly trees, staring at a pile of seed. Then, one took the great leap and landed, decided we weren’t a threat and started scoffing. But only one more joined him. The first bird had an odd green shade in with his plumage and the green-yellow wingbar said it all. A juvenile greenfinch. The second bird however, had a brown upper back and its wingbar was white. This one was a female chaffinch. Some of you reading might know that mixed finch flocks are quite abundant this time of year.
Through the binoculars, I noticed a large, white speck on the horizon. I focused in and saw an incredible sight. A male goosander. The sleek, oily head met at the lores [the area between a bird’s beak and eye] with the pinky-red, jagged ended bill. They’re not called sawbill ducks for nothing! On the other side of the head stretched a lengthy bright white back. Moving left from the male, two crazy haired females bobbed. The shade of rusty red was similar to the crown of the mandarin but that definitely doesn’t compare with the female goosander’s odd, spiky crest.
We began to wander slowly on the meandering path. A moorhen caught my eye, nestled under an overhang made of a tree and some twigs. The smooth, subtle mix of blue and black goes perfect with the white flash across its side. If you move up from the back, up the nape and down to the lores, you’ll notice a bright red forehead patch, which then extends down to a small beak tipped with the finest egg yolk-yellow. For now the bird looked quite comical as it jerked its head as it swam.
A similar species that always shows itself here in large numbers is the coot. Its overall colour isn’t glossy but black and instead of a red forehead patch, they have a white. But what strings both species together as rails is their toes! The coot’s toes are each made up of large white sacks that are strung together. The moorhen’s toes are a bit different. They don’t have the white sacks but they have a bit more expected type of feet. First of all, they’re yellow, not white and secondly, they’re a bit more like bird toes but are a bit larger. But whatever characteristics they both have, both of these sets of feet are perfectly adapted to walk through deep mud.
As we walked on, I thought about how lucky I had been so far. But the best was yet to come. We rounded a corner and had a good view of some reeds in the centre of a miniature pond fed by a compact channel. There was a small bird clinging to a reed, having an everlasting conflict with a coot. A wave of shock took over my body and suddenly I could only watch. A kingfisher. The vivid, intense blue on the back shined in the evening light. A sharpened, dagger-like bill jutted from the head and a small, black eye stared at me, gleaming with concentration. The orange belly was rich in colour like a tangerine held up to the sun. My word.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get long to enjoy it. A large heron darted in, causing the kingfisher to scatter out to the reedbed. We didn’t see him again. But still, the heron stood in the shallows, majestic and regal. The polished grey met in perfect contrast with its white belly stripe and the black eyebrowed face glared at me. I struggled to take this all in. The gigantic legs projected from the hunched underparts as the heron stood dead still, waiting for its moment to strike.
Swerving around the lake, we reached the bird feeding area. A wide, wooden plated boardwalk led up into the mixed woodland. Slim stilts jutted from the forest floor as we headed up silently. Two female pheasants stood, stabbing at seed left on the floor by the passerines. A gang of long tailed tits waited, scattered high and low in enormous oaks and slim silver birches. Suddenly, they all darted onto the feeder at once, stuffing their stubby bills into the feeder ports. Their long, slender tails extended from the ball shaped body and drooped down. Long tailed tits were always one of my favourite birds, mainly because they’re so sociable. They always turn up in groups of at least three and I guess I admire that. One of the true tits, the blue tit scouted out the black sunflower and then fluttered up with the long tailed tits.
What brilliant birds.
There’s also one more thing. I use a birding platform called Ebird to record my sightings and be part of a birding community. When I submitted this list to ebird, I then became second in number of species at this location. My stover life list now numbers 51 species and counting!
The Bovey Birder 