K is for Kingfisher

KINGFISHER (ALCEDO ATTHIS)

The kingfisher is undoubtedly one of Britain’s most beautiful birds. Though usually seen as a metallic blue flash as it whizzes away, this is enough to bring joy to a riverside walk.

The kingfisher’s glimmering plumage is unrivalled amongst British birds.  The contrasting glittering, deep blue-green upperside, orange chest and smart white dashes make this living jewel.  The silvery-turqouise back provides the distinctive gleam from behind. The secret to the kingfisher’s glowing colours is the way their  feather structure reflects light, known as ‘structural colour’, creating their metallic sheen. Without this effect, they would simply be dark brown¹!
Males and females can be told apart by their beak colour. Females have an orange lower jaw, whilst the male’s is completely black.

The kingfisher is fairly common on rivers, streams and lakes, though is rarely seen by most people. Its habit of perching in waterside trees obscures it from the banks and it is more easily seen from the water .  During my time in Worcester with the rowing club, I used to see several kingfishers with each practice, yet I only saw one from the banks.

Appearances aside, the kingfisher certainly lives up to its name with its predatory skill.  They hunt from a perch on a branch or stem(sometimes even a fisherman’s rod!), or sometimes by hovering, over the water.  Seeing into water presents challenges, but the kingfisher overcomes these with eyes which polarize light to neutralise the reflection of the surface, and the mental ability to calculate refraction effect (the bending of light through the water)¹.  Once focussed, the bird dives in like a harpoon up to 25cm deep, locates and grabs its quarry by touch, bobs to the surface and pushes off with its wings back to the perch all in a split second (See this stunning  slow-motion BBC footage of a kingfisher strike).  The kingfisher then bashes its prey against the perch to stun it into submission before swallowing it whole. Their main prey is, of course, small fish though shellfish such as small crustaceans, water beetles and insect larvae are also on the menu ².

Unsurprisingly for such a beautiful bird, the kingfisher has a history of human admiration.
The Ancient Greek Moon Goddess, Alcyone was believed to protect sailors from storms and to be responsible for the yearly resurrection of Zeus. When Zeus defied her power and killed her husband Ceyx at sea with a lightning bolt, Alcyone plunged into the water and the couple were turned into kingfishers. It is from their names that the scientific genus name ‘Alcedo’ derives³.

Alcyone could still control the sea in her feathered form. This gave us the poetic expression ‘Halcyon days’, applying to the real phenomenon of the calming of the Mediterranean sea during midwinter, when it was believed that the kingfisher bred on a floating nest made of fish bones³.

The kingfisher’s real nest is less romantic, but still an incredible feat. Like their relatives, the woodpeckers, kingfishers dig out a nest hole.  They choose a spot of soft exposed river bank, and then fly at it and literally ram it with their beak! Once they have created a hollow, the pair excavates a tunnel about 60–90 cm (24–36 in) long ending in a nest chamber, inclined upwards to protect the nest from rising water levels⁴.
 For such a beautiful bird, the nest is rather sordid, being lined with fish bones and pellets of other indigestible, hard parts of prey engorged by the adults and young ⁴(So at least the Greeks were partly right!). The offspring poo out into the chamber, creating a harsh smell which may deter predators.

Kingfishers are very fecund, producing 2-3 broods a year⁴. To support these families they must maintain a fishing territory, and fights are aggressive to the point of drowning one another!

In Britain, kingfishers were hunted by the Victorians to for ornamental stuffed birds and feather hat decorations, and later water pollution from industrial and agricultural waste caused further declines.  Fortunately, improved water quality means kingfishers are now recovering. Their greatest natural threat is freezing winters, when many migrate to saltier estuaries and coasts.

So next time you walk along a British river, look for this living jewel, perhaps even watch it fishing, and be grateful that this Goddess on the river is rising again.

References

1-BBC Nature (No date). Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Common_Kingfisher

 2-Hilary Fry, Kathie Fry and  Alan Harris. (1999) Kingfishers, Bee-eaters and Rollers. London: Christopher Helm. Cited by Wikipedia (2013). Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Kingfisher

3- Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

4-Jeannine Miesle and Avianweb. (No date) Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://www.avianweb.com/commonkingfishers.html

I is for Icterine Warbler

Icterine warbler (Hippolais icterina).

The icterine warbler only just about classifies as a British Bird, but there is a severe shortage of natives beginning with ‘I’. It is a passage visitor (stops off on migration) and scarce migrant breeder in Britain.  It is usually found on the mainland in Western, Central and Northern Europe, all the way up to subarctic Russia. It is therefore surprising that Icterine warblers do not breed on our temperate isles more regularly. Perhaps crossing the waters of  the channel and the North Sea are just a little too much of a stretch on their exhausting  migration.  Although like many of our migrants the icterine warbler winters in sub-saharan Africa, it is excluded from the Mediterranean by its close and similar relative, the Melodious warbler (Hippolais polyglotta), which is also an occasional visitor to Britain.

Icterine warblers look as if they have been completely washed with yellow, including their greyish-green back.  The clue is in the name, as The name icterine means “yellowish’. This distinguishes them from our more common phylloscopid or leaf warblers, the Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita), Willow  warbler (P. trochilus)and Wood warbler (P.sibilatrix), which are more greeny brown and only partly yellowed.
But icterine warblers don’t just have pretty looks, they also have a great voice. Their long, loud,  babbling, eclectic and almost electric song seems to carry on forever. To add to the song’s complexity, it sometimes also incorporates mimicry of other bird calls.

Otherwise, ‘Ickies’* have rather typical warbler habits. They are shy and spend their time skulking in vegetation, usually only  given away by their voice. They forage amongst the leaves for insects and summer berries.

Icterine warblers settle in habitats with dense hideaways such as woodlands, scrub and the edges of forestry plantations, preferably in river valleys.  They have only been confirmed breeding five times in Britain, all of which were in the Scottish Highlands. The first record was in 1992 and the latest in 2009, when two pairs bred. The young successfully fledged from at least two of these attempts, including four young raised in Orkney in 2002¹.

They use Britain more regularly as a hotel than as a nursery. An average of 137 drop in per year making them one of our most common rarities ². Such visits often occur as crowds of birds rather than the occasional lost soul, and bigger crowds are thought to be related to breeding years . In the summer of 2009, 50 individuals were reported whereas a record 175 appeared in the first breeding year.

The detection of British breeding icterine warblers is thought to be a testament to the efforts of modern bird recording schemes. Britain is one of the great birdwatching nations, and the recent attempts to survey every square kilometre of the islands , in ‘tetrads’ mean even our wilderness areas miles from the nearest bird hide do not go unchecked. Thus the activity of such elusive birds gets noticed, and protective measures can be put in place.

It is interesting to think of this attractive visitor becoming more common in Britain. Perhaps it might follow the example of the Collared dove (Streptopelia decaocto), once a rarity from the mainland that had birdwatchers flocking, and now a staple garden bird. Only time will tell.

*I didn’t make it up. This is a common term used by birdwatchers.

References

1- Alan Tilmouth. (2009) BTO Atlas work produces Icky results. Available from: http://www.birdguides.com/webzine/article.asp?a=1764

2- Robert A Robinson. (2013)Profiles of birds occurring in Britain and Ireland-Icterine warbler Hippolais icterina   [Vieillot, 1817]. Available from:  http://blx1.bto.org/birdfacts/results/bob12590.htm

H is for House Sparrow

House Sparrow (Passer domesticus)

If I could pick a bird that means the most to me, it would be the house sparrow. Part of daily life at home was  to wake up to the discordant chirrups of the clan in the hedgerow, watch  them streaming to and from the feeder in the chicken  coup (never mind the bird table!) ,see them take dust baths on the garden path and hear them tumble shouting through the bushes in a dominance squabble .  Sparrows were the mainstay of our garden before the fancy finches arrived when sunflower hearts were provided, and thankfully it continues to support a strong population.

The house sparrow is a typical “little brown job” for birdwatchers, particularly the more uniform female. But look closer and you will see intricacy in their plumage with a surprisingly rich palette of browns and greys.  The male sports a grey cap trimmed with reddish brown, and a black beak and eye surround which give him a haughty expression. His most distinctive feature is a scruffy black bib. The size of this correlates with his fighting ability, so signals his dominance to other males and prospective mates. The female is a more modest dusty brown with a dark eye stripe and pale brow and her beak is yellowish. Juveniles are similar to females, but dumpier and with yellow “lips” around the bill that disappear with age.

Though they have a strong beak designed for seed-eating, sparrows are omnivorous (feeding off plant and animal matter) and take a variety of foods. They will nip the buds and flowers of plants, but also pick off insects such as ants, aphids and caterpillars. Sometimes they dart out of bushes, or comically hop along rooftops after flying insects. Importantly, young sparrows require protein-rich insect food in their early life.

The sparrow’s prolific breeding habits are part of their success. They may have 3 broods a year, and may show their uglier side in order to achieve this. Affairs, infanticide (by both males and females) and even eviction of other bird species, such as house martins, swallows and tits from their nests are all common practice.  Whilst such behaviour clashes with human values, it is simply a part of the sparrow’s ecology. They have also been helped in their world conquest by humans, who introduced them to America and New Zealand making them the World’s most widespread bird.

Few other British birds have such an intimate association with humans. It is difficult to imagine this species existing without us, occurring as it does around farms, industrial buildings and of course houses and residential areas whilst being largely absent from the wider countryside*. Their name ‘domesticus’ refers to their association with houses. They are such a part of British life that this line-up wouldn’t be complete without them.  It is therefore surprising the sparrow is not doing so well in modern times.

The sparrow’s history is thus intertwined with our own. As a flocking bird with a taste for grain, it was arable farmer’s enemy number one . A price was put on their heads and they were heavily persecuted. They were even eaten, especially their eggs which provided a free, to people who placed nest boxes on their home fronts to harvest them.

Then, in the 1800’s when farmhands moved to the cities in search of work, the sparrow was there too.  Feeding off spilt grain in horse fodder, the insects in their manure and human scraps and sharing the tenements as roosts and nests, they provided little reminders of home to many, whose attitudes changed towards these common birds.

The movement towards feeding wild birds in the Victorian era was eagerly received by the sparrow. They became a fixture of urban parks, where they grew tame and delighted visitors by feeding straight from their hands, a pastime within living memory.

House sparrows continued as a constant among the British public, but then, in the 1990’s a drastic  decline of this super-common bird raised surprise and alarm. In 2002, the RSPB declared it a red status species due to this rapid drop in numbers.

This was part of a decline in several phases since the 1920’s, caused by different factors in urban and rural areas. Rural sparrows became a victim of increased agricultural efficiency during and after the Second World War which affected all farmland wildlife. The reduction in arable weeds, intensified grazing and shift from ecologically diverse hay meadows to plain, grassy silage reduced the natural seed and insect foods in summer, whilst improvements in harvesting and storage meant less spilt grain as a winter food source. Hedgerows were removed, taking with them the sparrow’s roosts and shelter. Cities provided some refuge from these impacts, but the changes in transport and in urban planning, increased tidiness of gardens, and even blocking up of building eaves to discourage them all had their impacts.

But there is still hope for the house sparrow. They aren’t declining in all British cities, and numbers are actually increasing in Wales and Scotland. So perhaps the homage to J.J. Audobon’s illustration of the now extinct Carolina parakeet ( Conuropsis carolinensis) isn’t so appropriate. 

You can help conserve house sparrows in your garden by providing plenty of bushes or a hedgerow (preferably a native species) as cover habitat, putting up sparrow nest boxes (preferably several individual boxes close together, as they dislike the disturbance caused by commonly marketed multi-chamber boxes)  and of course feeding and watering the birds. They are not fussy. Mixed seed, sunflower hearts, peanuts and suet will all be appreciated.  

With the help of ordinary townspeople, the sparrow may still cling on. I hope it does.  Britain would be a much poorer place without this common and characterful bird.

House sparrows are not the only sparrow in the British Isles. Their rarer, more strictly rural cousin, the Tree sparrow (Passer montanus), has an entirely chestnut cap, a black cheek patch and near-white (as opposed to grey) underparts. Confusingly, the dunnock (Prunella modularis) is commonly called the ‘hedge sparrow’, and though the plumage is remarkably similar to the female house sparrow, they are unrelated. Their name is a relic from a time when ‘sparrow’ applied to any small, brown bird. In relation to this, in the sparrow’s scientific name passer we see the origin of ‘passerines’, the entire group of perching birds.

To find out more about the great house sparrow decline, visit http://www.ndoc.org.uk/articles/Decline%20of%20the%20House%20Sparrow.pdf

*Specifically, more than 60% of the population live in built up areas, with more than half of these occurring in suburban areas, according to the BTO’s Breeding Bird Survey.

F is for Fulmar/Fulmarus

Fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

At first glance, the fulmar appears to be a gull. It’s wide grey wings, white body and yellow bill and general behaviour are certainly very similar, but it is a tube-nose, related to shearwaters, petrels and the famous albatross. On closer inspection the fulmar glides on stiff, straight wings with occasional rapid wing-beats, unlike the graceful tapering, swooping wings of a gull, and has a charmingly dumpy body, round head and stubby bill. And of course, the bill has a tube nostril, which excretes salt from its diet and the seawater it drinks.  Like gulls, fulmars also have a ‘furrowed brow’ look, which helps protect their eyes from the sea’s reflective glare.

The fulmars name is a corruption of the Norse ‘Foul Maa’ meaning foul gull¹, from their infamous defence strategy of projectile vomiting  fish oil onto their attacker, apparently up to five feet away! Unsurprisingly, this sticky, smelly defence is an effective deterrent against any predator with a sense of smell or cleanliness.  If you really want to see it in more detail, go here. Unbelievably, the people of St Kilda island, Scotland, once used ‘fulmar oil’ as a medicine²!

For good or for bad, fulmars are full of character. Once, at pendennis castle, Cornwall, I witnessed their excellent flying abilities as a pair were gliding backwards and forwards on the wind  next to the ruins. At the last second  they would switch direction or push off with their feet, narrowly avoiding being dashed against the stones.  Whether it was for pure joy or flying practice, it certainly looked like they were having fun!  I witnessed this again with friends on the cliffs of the Pembrokeshire coast, and we almost suffered a fulmar to the face as we watched from the ledge.
On a very different side to their character, the fulmar is surprisingly high in the pecking order for its size, possibly due to it’s defense. On a sea fishing trip being trailed by a fulmar and several gulls, even the great black backed gull gave way to the fulmar when offal was thrown overboard, despite the gull being almost twice the fulmar’s weight.  They have also been photographed fighting off skuas for food.

Asides from oily fish fulmars also feed on squid, crustaceans and carrion, either from the surface or by diving to a depth of 3 meters in the open sea³. Hence they are mainly pelagic (open ocean) birds though they may be found along the coast most of the year. They are not fussy nesters, favouring cliffs but also using burrows, walls, roofs and even open ground, sometimes a little inland from the coast. Here they will raise just a single chick in a bare nest. This breeding strategy pays off as fulmars are one of the longest-living birds, reaching 30-50 years, though they only start breeding at around 10 years old³.

The fulmar has an interesting history in Britain. In 1870, the only British breeding fulmars were on the remote North-west Scottish islands of St Kilda. Here they were a staple food for the islanders. By the 1970’s they were breeding over almost the entire British coastline ^1,3,4! Oddly enough, this wasn’t a spread of st Kildan birds, but a population explosion of the more adaptable Icelandic fulmars. Increased food resources from fishing vessels and whaling is likely a major cause of this spread, but the warming of the North-East Atlantic and even genetics have been suggested as other factors. So next time you’re holidaying on the coast, look out for this pugnacious yet playful bird among the gulls.

D is for Dunlin

Dunlin (Calidris alpina)

The dunlin is one of our commonest waders in both freshwater and saltwater habitats. It is a callidriid sandpiper, meaning it has the short legs and bill and dumpy body which characterise this group. This, combined with its skittering gait make it frankly adorable. The dunlins diminutive nature is well illustrated by some of its local names; the sea mouse (Lancashire and Dumfries) and the Sand mouse (Westmorland)¹.

This small wader is quite distinctive in its bright summer plumage, with golden-brown wings flecked with black “V’s” and a smart black patch on its pale belly. In winter, however it becomes the delicate grey of most wintering sandpipers and is more difficult to distinguish. If you want to confound yourself even further, there are several races of dunlin which visit Britain, each with slightly different markings and body proportions. The race C.a.arctica simply passes through Britain in autumn on migration to West Africa; The race C.a.shinzii breeds here;  whilst the race C.a. alpina overwinters^2,3.

Dunlins spend a lot of their time frantically feeding to fuel their high metabolisms, plucking insects, curstaceans and other small invertebrates on or near the surface of sand, mud and shallow water. My wonderful first experience of a dunlin was watching it dodge the surf along a sandy beach in Cornwall, almost at our feet and completely focused on feeding.
When resting they huddle together, often with other waders for safety in numbers and to conserve body heat. Indeed, another local name, ‘the plover’s page’ refers to their habit of following flocks of golden plover Pluvialis apricaria, especially during the breeding season¹.

Despite being so common most of the year, the dunlin is very restricted in its breeding habitats, nesting only in sphagnum peat bogs and machair grassland, both rare habitats in the UK which have suffered historical declines due to changes in man’s land use. As a result, the majority of Britain’s dunlins are migrants from mainland Europe.

Perhaps surprisingly for a wader, breeding dunlins ‘sing’, with a scratchy, almost croaking character (recordings of which can be heard here ), and they join in the dawn chorus on their breeding grounds.

So there you have it, a whistlestop tour of the dunlin. A common, unassuming, yet quirky little wader skittering across our shorelines.

References

1-Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

2-Dave Appleton. (no date) Dunlin Calidris alpine. Available from: http://www.gobirding.eu/Photos/Dunlin.php

3- Robert A Robinson. (2013) Profiles of birds occurring in Britain and Ireland-Dunlin Calidris alpina   [Linnaeus, 1758]. Available from: http://blx1.bto.org/birdfacts/results/bob5120.htm

B is for Buzzard/Buteo

Buzzard (Buteo Buteo)

The buzzard is commonly known as the ‘tourist eagle’ by birdwatchers, because people holidaying in the mountain wildernesses of the UK in search of our largest raptors are often fooled by the buzzard’s appearance. To the informed birdwatcher the buzzard used to be exciting in itself as they once occurred in only a few rural areas in the UK, a victim of the accidental and deliberate persecution of all of Britain’s raptors. I was always excited to see them on my holidays to Cornwall.

Thankfully you don’t have to go out on a limb to see buzzards any more. In fact they’re one of the UK’s greatest conservation success stories, being our most common raptor,  but they have largely been eclipsed by their more enigmatic cousin, the Red Kite Milvus milvus . Nicely for me, it is one of the changes I’ve seen happen within my lifetime. Their broad frame can soar into view even in the middle of towns and agricultural fields across the nation.

The buzzard’s success is largely because they are not fussy eaters. They’re not too proud to pass up carrion, worms and beetles, alongside reptiles, frogs, small mammals and birds. They are often thought of as ‘lazy’ or mostly scavengers (possibly why Americans named vultures after them). In fact they are capable and powerful predators, taking down woodpigeons and rabbits, comparatively large prey and are even recorded preying on kestrels¹. Anyway, even the ‘proud’ eagle is an avid scavenger, as are most other large predators. Being such a generalist is a winning strategy, because it means that buzzards don’t have to be territorial to find enough food (except during the breeding season, when they also have to feed chicks), and as a result you can see gatherings of buzzards in some places, gliding on thermals or, as reported by one of my university friends, searching for worms in ploughed fields.

Buzzards even show a kind of “lekking” behaviour when courting, as several individuals from nearby areas come together in a flock to display to each other (I was astounded to see 18 buzzards doing this over my University campus!).

It also turns out that being common gets you lots of friends. Buzzards became famous in the news this year as plans to control them on pheasant shooting estates were proposed by our wise (irony!) Environment Secretary. The plan was to make it legal to destroy buzzard nests and take them into captivity if they were thought to be causing a problem by eating young pheasants which the gamekeepers released into their forests. This was shocking, since a) “control” by gamekeepers was a major reason that most British raptor species declined in the first place and b) all UK raptors are equally legally protected from such “control” by the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 (the tourist eagle has the same protection as real eagles*). Not to mention that c) independent research found that raptors in general were only responsible for around 3% of pheasant deaths, how much of this is buzzards is unknown².

Fortunately for the buzzards, they were well-known and loved by Joe public, who rallied an appalled and vociferous opposition against the plans, and won their case, hands-down only a few days after the press release. Thank God for democracy!**
So let us celebrate the buzzard. The common raptor for the common people. Long may they circle our skies!

There are two other “Buzzards” in the UK. These are the rough-leeged buzzard (Buteo lagopus), an occasional visitor from the arctic which has a white, black-tipped tail and feathered legs, and the honey buzzard (Pernis apivorous), a summer visitor from Africa which is not a true buzzard and prefers wasp larvae to bee’s honey.

*Except, importantly it is illegal to destroy an eagle or osprey’s nest at any time of year since they use them annually. Buzzards do not, so their unused nests are not protected.

**AN UPDATE -Since the time of writing it has surfaced that Natural England issued licenses to destroy 4 buzzard nests. This was conducted in secrecy, but fortunately has recieved media attention and started further public outcry

References

¹ Darren Naish. (2012) Raptor vs Raptor. Available from: http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/tetrapod-zoology/2012/04/26/raptor-vs-raptor/

² BASC (no date) Birds of Prey and Pheasants at Release Pens. A Practical Guide for Game Managers and Gamekeepers. Available from: http://www.basc.org.uk/en/utilities/document-summary.cfm/docid/0ED97AE3-2C65-4B50-B6976A55717073D2

A is for Apus

                 Common Swift (Apus apus)

This bird is such an accomplished flier it has earned the adjective “Swift” as its common name and Apus apus , greek for “no foot” as its scientific one, since it does not land from the day it fledges. It is often confused with the swallow but is in fact completely unrelated, being closer to nightjars and  owls *and so are a great example of convergent evolution.  Not to mention the swallow’s aerial abilities pale in comparison. No self-respecting swift would be seen perching on a telephone line. They eat, drink, sleep and mate in the skies, spending most of their life far above in the open air but also moving at incredible speed  kamakazi-style between buildings and other obstacles ( I even witnessed one vertically-slaloming telephone wires!) . They are the peak of avian adaptation to the skies. Healthy adult swifts are so un-catchable they only have two predators in the British Isles, both falcons; The hobby Falco subbuteo, swift-like in itself and a famed dragonfly catcher, and the peregrine Falco peregrinus, which includes swifts as a significant part of its diet in urban areas¹. For some footage of a hobby catching a swift, see this video. The catch is at 04:15.

The swift’s body is well adapted for life on the wing, with stiff sickle-shaped wings making them resemble little, dark aeroplanes and forked tails giving them great steering. Their wide mouths simply scoop up the ‘aerial plankton’ of tiny flies, beetles, wasps, aphids, thrips and money spiders ^ᵻ as they speed along. They do have tiny feet which tuck under their feathers like a plane’s undercarriage, but with sharp curved claws for gripping onto the vertical surfaces such as walls and cliffs where they nest. Their four toes are oriented with one pair facing forward and the other backward(known as zygodactyly), a feature which they share with their hummingbird, nightjar, and owl relatives.

As a late migrant to Britain, the coming of swifts (for me at least) epitomises the summer.  The screeching of males in high-speed chase of a female and their mass flocks around gluts of insects like flying ants are familiar sights and easily observable in urban areas where they temporarily fill the skies with activity.

You might think that such a master of the air, which has adapted to our urban habitats, would be unaffected by people. Unfortunately the swift’s Achilles heel is the need to nest in high, inaccessible crevices which are decreasing as old buildings are levelled or repaired, whilst new buildings often have no suitable nest sites. Coupled with this are the unknown problems in Africa facing many of our summer migrants, perhaps caused by climate change. You can help solve the former problem simply by installing a ‘swift box’ on your property, which can be bought or made from instructions which are available online. In addition, try and encourage authorities  to install them on existing and/or planned buildings in your area. Whatever you do, be sure to visit Swift Conservation for more information and/or to donate to the noble cause of saving Britain’s swifts.

I hope that this unorthodox entry for the letter ‘A’ has boosted your appreciation of this amazing British bird and inspired you to gaze up at the skies this summer.

*In fact, hummingbirds evolved from a swift-like ancestor, becoming accomplished fliers in a very different way.  The resemblance is clear if you compare them and think about the hummingbird with the beak trimmed. They were probably originally attracted to flowers by feeding on pollinating insects, which they still do alongside nectar-drinking.

^ᵻ  Those tiny black ones that inextricably get caught in your hair, actually parachute through the air on long lines of silk.

References

¹Edward J. A. Drewitt and Nick Dixon (2008). Diet and prey selection of urban-dwelling Peregrine Falcons in southwest England. British Birds Available from: http://media.wix.com/ugd//1ab07f_c7e226ec23e479a8218b52c35f7c39bb.pdf

About this blog

About this blog

The articles

The aim of this blog is to  produce short, informative and entertaining articles on British Wildlife, based on scientific fact and personal experience. The aim is to offer interesting and inspirational little insights into the natural world within our islands for people of all levels of expertise.  The articles will appear twice weekly on WEDNESDAYS and FRIDAYS.

Since this is mostly stuff I’ve picked up as I went along, the articles are mainly informal and unreferenced. Where I have done recent research and/or a reference is really required I have done it with an easy to follow numerical system, like this: Bullfinches fed on hempseed turn black ¹

¹ Gilbert White. (1768) In: The Natural History of Selbourne.

This avoids it becoming a drag for me (I' ve enough research and referencing to do at uni before my summer break!), and hopefully makes easier reading for you.

Half the fun of this blog are the accompanying pictures.I do not claim to be an artist, I just like sketching, and the pictures will simply be pencil and fineliner pen but hopefully they will keep you amused. Many of them may be confusing without reading the accompanying article.

I assure you all articles will be safe for work (depending on your bosses attitude to naturalists), and child-safe if they're interested too.

The content

First-off, I'm not interested in the "cute and cuddly" at heart. Though I appreciate all wildlife, I am a lover of the “weirder” things in nature (aka creepy-crawlies),particularly reptiles and amphibians.

BUT, as an experiment, I have decided to go with birds first  A- Because there are so many British species, and B- Because they are so popular.

So, for a bit of fun and structure, I have decided to present:

 An Avian Alphabet of the British Isles.

26 Posts over  13 weeks- Wednesdays and Fridays

As you can probably tell, the articles will be in alphabetical order, focusing on one species This may be by common name or by scientific name where they are the only member of their genus in the UK. For example, the Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) could be K or A. 

So, I hope you will enjoy this blog as much as I enjoyed creating it.