Breckland to Birdland

11 December 2015

Just before you get to Downham Market the flat lands give way to a much more natural looking landscape - The Brecks. This is the top end of a  400 square mile area of sandy and chalky soil spanning Norfolk and Suffolk. It's the driest part of Britain (one of the reasons I'm here), the most flinty and it has the biggest lowland forest at Thetford. Brecks were temporary fields in soil too unfertile to grow crops every year. The area was once a veritable rabbit factory with dozens of guarded warrens sending up to 20,000 rabbits each to market for meat,  and supporting a fur industry.

Much of the old heathland has been "improved" of course with commercial forests and arable farming, but this northern part is an undulating mix of pine trees and small fields. Most of the old houses in north Norfolk seem to be made of round flints set in frames of mellow brick. Clearly the planning authorities insist on this vernacular style for new buildings too:

The grandeur of the church in the little village of Cley suggests a long history of prosperity, perhaps partly based on wind power:

Fascinating though it is I'm not here for the history. This trip is strictly for the birds, and Cley is Birdland Central - the legendary heartland of the twitcher, the place with a longer list of rarities than anywhere else except possibly the next village along the coast - or the next. Cley Marshes nature reserve dates back to 1926 and was the blueprint for many later establishments.

I spent the afternoon and the next morning on the reserve, mostly standing or sitting in hides, festooned with optical  gear, and waiting. At the most distant hide late in the afternoon - that's 3pm at this time of year - I met Carl Chapman, one of those fortunate people who make a living from nature watching. He told me where to find a bird I hardly knew existed - a red-necked grebe. I said I wasn't really a twitcher  - "Ah, no it's not just for the sake of seeing it, but it is easy to photograph - just hangs around the harbour at Brancaster Staithe."  He mentioned a rough-legged buzzard too, but I was not confident I would be able to identify that one. There was little to see from the hide but we had an interesting conversation before it became too gloomy. He runs wildlife tours and has a blog about Norfolk birds.

There were plenty of Marsh Harriers patrolling up and down, but none came near enough to improve on the pictures I took the day before:

I decided to come back at first light  (8am) the next day. It was dull and cold. An occasional harrier would be seen in the distance but the only break in a long 2 hours was when a flock of Brent Geese flew over.

I'd had enough of Cley so decided to go to the RSPB reserve at Titchwell. The road went through Brancaster Staithe so I drove down to the harbour to see if the grebe was there. The man with the tripod and telescope had to be a bird man so I asked him if the grebe was there.

"Oh yes, just over there - but it's just dived."

I went back to the van, got the camera and tripod out and set up near where he was. Bird watchers don't attract much curiosity round here - they're part of the scenery. I focus on the patch of water where the grebe went down and hey presto - there is it, bang in my sights. Because my lens has no image stabilisation I usually have it set on 1/500 second to freeze most of the movement, but with a tripod I can try at lower speed. I also fit the x1.4 extender to the lens which gives it a bit more reach but on a gloomy day also cuts down the amount of light reaching the sensor. With the bird too far away and with poor light none of the images I take are really clear, but for the record this undistinguished looking creature is the rare Red Necked Grebe - in its drab winter colours:

 

The only other rarity I saw  was a Water Pipet which had turned up at Titchwell Marsh, further north-west along the coast. There was a small group looking intently across a lagoon when I arrived at the screen. I asked them what was there - "The Water Pipet - here have a look." I peered through the telescope and there was a little bird a long way off looking just like any other pipet. I had to try and photograph it but by the time I got the tripod assembled it had disappeared and I missed a nice shot of a godwit in flight. Lesson - it's a good picture I'm after whatever the subject may be. Rarities are only of interest to me if they are in their natural habitat.