My jynx is finally over

 

There has been a species of bird on my wish list practically forever - the Eurasian Wryneck (Jynx torquilla). Since Wednesday, there have been reports and pictures of a Wryneck that has been showing very well at all of the places it could decide to so - Goldcliff Lagoons, my favourite reserve and what I consider to be my patch.

With considerable envy, I have been following the daily bird community intelligence with passion and yearning for Friday to come quickly, as my working week would be over. Finally, I would have an opportunity to visit the reserve.

I prayed to all the birding gods and pleaded for it to stay for me. I told my wife of my plans to attend Goldcliff really yearly on Friday, and she rolled her eyes and teased me with one of her favourite comments, " Yes, Blair, I am sure it will be waiting there for you tomorrow".

Well, I certainly hoped so. I went to bed like an excited child on Christmas Eve, closing my eyes tightly for sleep and wishing for Friday morning to come quickly.

I awoke Friday morning at silly o'clock, five minutes even before my alarm went off. I bounded out of bed into my man-cave to kit up and move out - I felt like Batman suiting up with his crime-fighting gear and jumping into the Batmobile as I drove away from my street heading for Goldcliff Lagoons.

I arrived at Goldcliff Lagoons thirty minutes before sunrise. I was the only person there. The air had the autumn chill to it, and there was a gossamer-thin mist hanging in the air just above my head. Above it, the sky was remarkably clear, and many constellations were shining brightly to the naked eye.

Excitedly, I headed into the reserve. Any stress or worries were banished to the very far reaches of my consciousness as I focused on hunting for the Wryneck. I had never seen one of these enigmatic members of the Woodpecker family, whilst you can see other people's pictures, watch videos and read books about them, nothing is better than seeing birds yourself with your own eyes to appreciate their size, colours and jizz ( the way they move, feed, call and fly).

As I progressed through the reserve, my heart rate increased as I heard the distinctive sounds of Ringed Plovers, Curlews, Lapwings and geese calling.

I poked my head into the first hide and was overjoyed to see that there was water. The reserve has been desperate for rain to fill the pools.

It was too dark for any bird photography, but I sat there with my spotting scope and scanned Monks Lagoon.

The Wryneck was last seen in the vicinity of Hide 2 along the path near the Hawthorn Berry bushes.

I headed there and set up my tripod with my landscape camera to grab some pictures of the impending sunrise. The eastern horizon has a lovely orange glow, and as my readers will know, if there is one thing that I do love other than my birds, it is a good sunrise.

I met up with one of the Goldcliff Gang, Terry, who appeared out of the darkness. He was also searching for the Wryneck.

Both of us had the same idea, arrive early and try to beat the 10am birding brigade - we would not be the only people keen to see the rarely seen Wryneck.

We did a scout of the reserve, walking along to the seawall and back, but had no luck. As the sun rose, the light was getting better, and more birds were waking up and being active - there was hope still. I said my goodbyes to Terry, who had to get home for something really important - it was his wedding anniversary - congrats from me to you and the Mrs.

More birders arrived at the reserve, keen to see the Wryneck. It was like a police search party with people scanning the bushes, trees, grass and fenceposts with bins, scopes and cameras.s

Eventually, I joined the line of birders walking over to where the seawall hide used to exist and where it had been proclaimed that if it's not at the hide,2 it will be over there.

As things would turn out, the chap who said this ( and I believe was the sharp-eyed birder who spotted the Wryneck on Wednesday) was right, well after a patient wait.

I was standing with a spread-out search party later that morning near the foundations of where the seawall hide used to be ( and hopefully will be rebuilt soon), when a birder with bins and what I can only imagine was some sort of laser target system built into his brain spotted the Wryneck in a bush. He called me over, waving his arm frantically and in that moment, my jinx of not seeing a Wryneck was banished forever.

"Tick" is the word that Twitchers use to declare they have seen a lifer species, and can then proudly tick it off their species list.

The Wryneck was very mobile and did not perch for long before it flew off further down the line of fence posts until it got to the out-of-bounds metal gate at the end of the path.

By now, a posse of birders had gathered, and we all followed after where the Wryneck had gone. With lots of eyes now present, it was not long before the Wyneck was picked up again, and it showed really well.

The birds get their name from a characteristic they have of twisting their neck like a snake when alarmed to ward off predators.

Eurasian Wrynecks are strange birds. They are members of the Woodpecker family, but they behave and look quite differently. They are quite small - Blackbird-sized and have incredible cryptic plumage which acts as excellent camouflage. Rather than climbing trees and drilling holes for grubs, these birds specialise in eating ants ( similar to Green Woodpeckers), and they have long, dexterous tongues for picking out little insects. As a consequence, Wrynecks spend a lot of time on the ground foraging for good sources of ground-living insects such as anthills and exposed earth.

When the Wryneck was on the ground, it was hard to spot, even from a short distance. The birds' general jizz gave me more traits associated with a Pipit than a Woodpecker. In fact, the Wryneck at Goldcliff was never far from Meadow Pipits when I observed it.

On a few occasions, the Wryneck took flight and landed on a fence post, rarely settling for long to pose, so you had to be quick with the camera.

Fortunately, I managed to get a couple of pictures that I was happy with.

After some time of posing for the birding paparazzi, the feathered diva moved back behind the lines of people with lenses and headed back towards the farm along the fencline, dropping to feed as it did so. There was a sort of Mexican standoff at one point, as ahead of us, another line of people lay further along the path.

We had to breach the standoff as several of us needed to head home, so we followed the bird, and it got spooked and flew away, dropping on and off fence posts ahead of us all the way to another spot it liked to hang out at, hide 2 near a sloe berry bush and Hawthorn.

It finally posed for me, and dare I forget to mention my fellow amigo Nicola Johns before we headed off out of the reserve.

I must admit seeing the Wryneck was a wonderful encounter and one that will live long in my memory.

I wish the bird safe passage as it continues on its long migration all the way to its wintering grounds in Africa, and thank it for taking a pit stop at Goldcliff Lagoons and making many birders very happy.