Sunrise, Waders and Raptors at Goldcliff Lagoons

 

There is something rather special about arriving at Goldcliff Lagoons at sunrise.

On Friday morning I made an early visit to my beloved reserve, walking in beneath skies that looked anything but promising. A heavy rain cloud was moving steadily across the landscape and, for a while, it appeared that sunrise might be hidden completely.

Nature, however, had other ideas.

As the sun began to rise it found gaps beneath the dark clouds, sending warm light across the horizon and creating a wonderfully dramatic sunrise. The contrast between the brooding sky and the glowing light was spectacular, and for a few moments I simply stood and watched the morning unfold over the reserve.

Not a bad way to begin the day.

Searching for a Wryneck

My first stop was Hide 1.

A Wryneck had been reported recently, so naturally it seemed worth spending a little time looking for it. Wrynecks are one of those birds that can be remarkably difficult to locate even when you know one is present, their intricate plumage making them almost disappear against branches, bark and vegetation.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of it during my visit.

That is birding though.

Sometimes the bird appears exactly where you hope it will and sometimes you are left staring at an apparently empty patch of habitat wondering whether it is quietly watching you from somewhere nearby.

I continued towards Hide 2.

Pebbles on Monks Lagoon

Looking out across Monks Lagoon was quite a sight.

The lagoon was bone dry, its surface reduced to sun-baked mud, but scattered across it was a sizeable gathering of small waders.

Ringed Plovers, Dunlins and Sanderlings were feeding and resting across the exposed ground.

From a distance they looked remarkably like small pebbles scattered over the mud.

It was a wonderful demonstration of just how effective wader camouflage can be. Stand still for a moment and what initially appears to be an empty stretch of mud suddenly begins to move.

A Familiar Face at Priors Lagoon

When I reached the Snipe Platform overlooking Priors Lagoon I was greeted by my friend Steve Bool.

Steve is a very good birder and is also becoming increasingly well known for the excellent videos he records through his telescope. He has an exceptional eye for picking out birds at distance, eyes like lasers and very little seems to escape his attention.

There is one bird, however, for which Steve has developed something of a reputation.

The Cuckoo.

Steve can imitate the call of a Cuckoo astonishingly well.

So well, in fact, that I have probably helped make him slightly famous on Facebook after recording one of his performances and posting it online.

Personally, I think Britain's Got Talent should be considering an audition.

Failing that, surely Springwatch could find him a slot.

Perhaps somewhere hidden in a woodland while unsuspecting presenters attempt to locate the mysterious Cuckoo calling from the trees.

Steve is always good company and, more importantly on a birding morning, he doesn't miss much.

Priors Lagoon Full of Waders

There was plenty to see across Priors Lagoon.

A good collection of waders had gathered on the lagoon, including two flocks of Black-tailed Godwits along with Lapwings, Ruff, Avocets and Redshank.

It was one of those scenes that makes Goldcliff such a wonderful reserve.

Birds scattered across the lagoon, constantly feeding, calling and shifting position while the light changed across the wetlands.

Eventually Steve had to shoot off, so we said our goodbyes and I continued towards the Marsh Platform where I hoped to get a better view of the Black-tailed Godwits.

It turned out to be a very good decision.

The Godwits Take Flight

The Black-tailed Godwits were incredibly close to the Marsh Platform.

For a while they fed peacefully, but tranquillity rarely lasts for long when large numbers of waders are gathered together.

A Marsh Harrier appeared.

Almost instantly the feathered residents of the lagoon reacted.

The Godwits erupted into the air in a mass of wings.

Hundreds of birds twisted and turned together above the lagoon, changing direction almost simultaneously as the Marsh Harrier passed through the reserve.

There is always something extraordinary about watching a flock of waders responding to a predator.

One moment the birds appear to be a chaotic cloud.

The next they turn as one.

Dark backs become pale underwings.

The flock stretches, contracts and folds back upon itself before sweeping across the sky again.

Eventually the Marsh Harrier moved away and calm slowly returned.

The Godwits descended towards the lagoon and, rather conveniently for me, formed one large flock that settled directly in front of the Marsh Platform.

Amongst them was a small group of Knot and a single Bar-tailed Godwit.

With so many Black-tailed Godwits packed closely together, finding the Bar-tailed Godwit became an enjoyable little challenge — picking through the flock and comparing shapes, structure and plumage until the bird revealed itself.

Enter the Peregrine

Later in the morning the peace was shattered once again.

This time the culprit was a Peregrine Falcon.

Few birds create quite the same reaction amongst waders.

The lagoon exploded.

Birds poured into the air and began performing breathtaking synchronised manoeuvres above the reserve.

Thousands of wings seemed to move as one as the flock twisted, climbed and swept across the sky attempting to avoid the Peregrine.

The display was extraordinary.

The synchronised aerobatics would have given the Red Arrows a run for their money.

Perhaps even put them to shame.

Watching waders in flight like this is one of the great spectacles of wetland birding. Their coordination seems almost impossible, yet somehow every bird reacts instantly to those around it.

There are no rehearsals.

No flight plan.

Just instinct.

Back Where I Belong

Eventually things settled down again and I spent some time simply enjoying being back at Goldcliff.

There are many wonderful places to watch wildlife, but certain reserves become more than just birding locations.

They become familiar landscapes.

Places where you recognise individual viewpoints, trees, pools and distant skylines.

Places filled with memories of previous encounters.

Goldcliff Lagoons is one of those places for me.

And after watching a dramatic sunrise, searching for a Wryneck, seeing the mud covered with perfectly camouflaged waders, meeting Steve, watching Black-tailed Godwits at close range and witnessing both Marsh Harrier and Peregrine send the lagoon into chaos, it felt wonderful to be back.

There was also one rather obvious new addition to the reserve.

The new Phoenix Hide has now been erected.

But that deserves a story of its own.

More on that in a separate blog.