Monday, January 18, 2010
THE TALK in the pub was all about birds and everybody, nature watchers and gunmen alike had sympathy with the Redwings.
Arriving on the cold south coast of Ireland this January, they were almost as numerous as the Painted Lady butterflies that arrived from Morocco in the halcyon days of June. Small, brightly coloured thrushes with the profiles of robin redbreasts – and not much bigger – they had flown over the North Sea from frozen Scandinavia and Russia only to find the fields of Britain whited-out, and so they pressed on. By the time they hit the still-green land of Ireland, many were so depleted they literally couldn’t rise from the road and died under the wheels of cars. Those that survived stalked the fields in voracious ranks, scratching for sustenance. But then, came the snow.
In the pub, a man told us how his cat had brought in six Redwings and one Fieldfare that morning; it was a stray cat he’d saved from starvation, and he was almost sorry now. "Hobble her for the duration!" was one citizen’s advice. Belling would never do – a half-dead thrush would never hear the bell nor have the energy to lift off and fly; those that did fly, flew low, never rising more than a few feet above the ground. The man said he’d seen his cat catch one in mid-air.
On the Sunday, Michael O’Clery, illustrator of The Complete Guide to Ireland’s Birds and Finding Birds in Ireland reported that at Bolus Head in Kerry in the morning sunshine, he watched thousands of Redwings flying in low over the sea and dropping onto the first field they came to, while others arrived high and fast, and flew on inland. Fieldfares, Song Thrushes and Blackbirds were in every acre, along with Lapwings, some Golden Plover and Woodcock. Flocks of Snipe were arriving too, and some were feeding on the road verges, oblivious to traffic. Virtually every field toward Ballinskelligs and Waterville had Redwing, Fieldfare and Snipe. At Bolus, the day’s totals, recorded by serious watchers, were 15,000-20,000 Redwing, 5,000-6,000 Fieldfare, 1,000-2,000 Blackbirds and Song Thrushes, 1,200 Snipe, 22 Woodcock, 200 Lapwing, 2 Jack Snipe and 1 Water Rail. Many birds were exhausted and just sat on the ditches. It was the same at Hog’s Head and Derrynane, huge influxes of exhausted birds.
At Galley Head, in West Cork, 30,000 thrushes were counted in the course of three hours. Michael O’Clery noted that there were dozens of Redwing and Song Thrush corpses along roads near Caherciveen. Lately arrived migrants were even foraging in the streets in Killorglin, and he was able to pick up several emaciated birds in a short walk. He said: "With snow now falling in Kerry, conditions for these unfortunate birds is worsening, and I’m sure many thousands will succumb in the next 24 hours."
And succumb they did. The saddest sight I saw was a photo of a Redwing which had at last reached the Irish coast but was so weak that it had drowned in a rock pool. Its fires – the rust-red plumage beneath the wings and the cadmium yellow under-beak – were still bright, but the corpse was wet and bedraggled.
My wife, out walking, saw a crab tree with many windfall apples and a haw tree alongside, all red with haws. The thrushes, hadn’t yet found it; hopefully they soon did.
Meanwhile, in these iced-up economic times, charity for our fellow creatures was never more in evidence, with every second garden festooned with peanut feeders.
Up to 90% of wrens die in harsh winters, and there are reports of Little Egrets – our new, exotic residents – found dead in Wexford, perhaps due to hard weather. These days, none are seen on Courtmacsherry Bay, which has a nesting population and usually holds some 30 birds. However, on the plus side, the invasive green algae that carpeted the estuary is also gone, the result of storms and cold.
It would be a bitter trade-off, no egrets in return for no weed. But spring will, likely, bring back both.
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