Written by There is a wood in a glen that holds a big surprise, but if you were to go down to the wood today you definitely wouldn’t find a teddy bear’s picnic. What you may find is a crazy capercaillie that owns this patch and, in order to defend it, is prepared to take on all-comers regardless of size, threat or risk of personal injury.
This rogue* bird is something of a local legend and has even been featured on TV. Even so, capercaillies aren’t the most well known birds, they are usually difficult to see and don’t have a place in the psyche of everyday folk, unlike more symbolic birds. I’m thinking here of birds such as the dove (a sign of peace), the puffin (clown of the sea) or a robin (the gardener’s friend) for example. However, after each of the few occasions that I’ve tried to photograph this crazy ‘caper’, I have come away with a symbolic association of my own – that a fully charged up male is akin to a psychotic nightclub doorman looking for an excuse to prove how tough he is.
Personal space is also an alien concept to this fella’ and once aware of an ‘intruder’ he is prone to charge in frighteningly close. When that happened I was more than willing to back off and try to keep a respectful distance between us, which was more difficult than I expected it to be (let me tell you, photographing this bird was no easy picnic). I was driven by an instinct no more altruistic than my own survival. Why? Because I have seen this particular bird come nightclub bouncer draw blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t mine.
* Rogue is a term often used to refer to birds that exhibit unusual or exaggerated characteristics, in this case aggressive behaviour that would normally only be expected at a spring lek being evident throughout the year and without restraint.
I’ve been a belligerent swan’s victim before. As a 7-year old boy standing alongside a park lake, with a fishing rod in my hand and a box of maggots for bait at my feet, I was mugged by a frighteningly aggressive swan. It enjoyed a free meal at my expense, I ran home crying. It’s an experience that I’ve never forgotten.
However, after a summer of keeping a low profile, red grouse are becoming very active, at least in the early mornings. Male birds are beginning to ‘strut their stuff’ and stake their claims to moorland territories. This involves a lot of calling and flying to and fro. Their russet plumage responds well to warm light and I’m working on trying to catch them in among what little good heather remains. It’s not easy. First I need a compliant grouse in a photographable position, then some warm light (within an hour or so of sun up), a patch of heather that still looks nice and some sort of activity to finish things off.
It’s hard to predict exactly when these seasonal changes will take place and the final details can only truly be assessed by going and having a look. Every year is a little bit different. It isn’t so much a case of one door being slammed shut and another one ripped open, it’s more like an endlessly revolving door that allows constant minute changes, which build to a noticeable difference over time. Nonetheless, fast or slow, the end result is still the same; heather out – grouse in.
This species has been seen visiting the UK for a while now, but have never managed to breed here. Slowly, as egrets spread north from their more classical Mainland Europe marshes, hopes rose that these elegant birds would do more than just look. Finally, hopes have been realised with the hatching of several chicks.
Is this a blip or is it the start of a new breeding trend? Great white egrets tend to return to the same nest site from year to year, so I’ve no doubt that there will be a lot of interested parties excitedly watching next spring, earnestly hoping for a repeat performance, including those who are eager for a chance to photograph this stylish bird.
Being a wearer of spectacles, my eyes are set back when I’m looking through a viewfinder, which means that even when looking forward I still have some peripheral vision. Because of this I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, movement. There it was again. At first I thought it was a chaffinch, but no. It was a hawfinch. A hawfinch! I’ve had never even seen one of these birds before, let alone photographed one.
My patience paid off. He came and went a few times, never staying for very long, but long enough for me to rattle off a few decent pictures each time. Later, Mrs. Hawfinch dropped in for a brief visit, shortly followed by Junior. Result!
This occasional blog is a tasty serving of nature and wildlife photography, with a side dish of my experiences out in the field and lightly seasoned with any random thoughts that occur to me along the way.
