Barging in on a waterhen
As we eased it from the bank we revealed a floating nest in the reeds, a waterhen huddled down over four or five eggs.
This presented us with a problem. Up to now the nest had been well concealed by the tall, steel side of the barge. But the nest was now very conspicuous —- open to view for all predatory birds, animals or humans.
This would be the second brood of the season. Waterhens normally have a large brood in the spring and a smaller one in the summer. Both parents incubate the eggs and feed the young and there was no way of telling whether the bird sticking so determinedly to the eggs was the male or the female.
But they’re charming birds that do no harm whatsoever and ornament our waterways with their jerky swimming, ridiculously large feet and range of guttural calls. And they’ve been under pressure in recent times because they’re vulnerable to predation from mink, particularly during the breeding season.
In the last few seasons I’ve got the impression that some sort of uneasy ecological balance was being achieved and that waterhen numbers were increasing. Rather surprisingly they like to roost in trees or bushes and some of them have started building nests in trees rather than reed beds. Mink are not particularly good at tree climbing so this has given the nests some protection.
They are related to the shy water rail and the rare corncrake and have extremely long, green toes. These have evolved to spread their body weight when they walk on floating aquatic vegetation such as water lily pads. But when they try to walk on dry land the long toes are a nuisance and they have to lift their feet ridiculously high with each step. Presumably the toes are useful when it comes to gripping branches when they roost in trees.
Males will lash out with their feet when they’re fighting other males for a choice patch. They dive well and can stay under water for some time. But they normally do this to escape danger and, unlike diving ducks, do not feed under water. They’re largely vegetarian but will take insects, small fish or amphibians.
They’re also called moorhens, particularly in Britain, and that’s the name you’ll have to look up in many bird books. Moor is an old English name for a marsh but it gives the impression that the bird is found on heaths, or moors in the modern sense of the word, which it isn’t. So I prefer the name waterhen.
We cut leafy willow twigs and built a protective bower over the nest. I hope the brood is successful.
