Going to the seaside always provides good bird-spotting
opportunities, and earlier this month I am pleased to report that Southwold was
no exception.
Gulls tend to come first when talking about seaside birds,
mainly (I suspect) due to the fact that they are both ubiquitous and noisy – if
anything’s going to wake you up at six in the morning on a seaside holiday, you
can bet it’s going to be the gulls.
To me, they can be confusing sometimes. In Britain, the
common gull isn’t really that common, while the black-headed gull does not
actually have a black head (it’s brown, but only in the summer). Throw in the
problems of identifying the juveniles, which all look the same for the most
part, and the birdwatcher who sees a lot of gulls can be in for an interesting
time. On more than one occasion I have sat in a crowded hide and heard someone
ask if a gull expert is present so that some identifications can be made.
The most abundant gulls at Southwold were the two I expected
to be the most abundant – those of the black-headed and herring varieties.
The herring
gull is, I suspect, what most peoples’ idea of a gull is; a big,
powerful-looking beast with grey wings a red tip on its beak. Its ‘kyow’ call
is truly one of the sounds of the seaside (they’re the alarm clock ones). These
are the ones who will try to take your chips if you should happen to want to
eat them while walking along the prom.
The black-headed
gulls had, for the most part, already reverted to their winter plumages.
They’re among the smallest of British gulls, and are the ones you’re most
likely to find inland. They’ll eat practically anything, and as they tend to go
around in groups their harsh-sounding ‘kree-aaa’ call is fairly ubiquitous, albeit not as piercing as the call of the afore-mentioned herring gull.
I did get to see one other gull on the beach when I went for
a walk shortly before dusk. It was a tidy-looking thing, the size of a black-headed gull but its
yellow beak and lack of any dark markings on its head told me this was something different; after consulting my
field guide I concluded that it was a common gull.
Elsewhere, I saw a family of swans – partly obscured by
reeds it must be said – and a solitary pied wagtail trying not to get blown
away by the wind. House martins flew overheard down at the harbour, where crows
and magpies could be seen fighting with the gulls over scraps.
But the best sighting of them all occurred just after we
arrived in Southwold. We parked the car behind the hotel, and there in the roof
of the carpark was a family of swallows – five babies waiting patiently for
their parents to arrive with insects that they’d caught. My field guide tells
me that a brood of swallows eats around 6,000 insects a day, and these little
ones were getting fed by mum and dad every few minutes! The arrival of one of
their parents was the cue for much noise as they all tried to get parental
attention and the feed that went with it. They must have been almost ready to
fly.
The following morning, I went down to look at them again and
found just one there, looking rather forlorn it must be said. After breakfast, I went back and found that he’d been
rejoined by his brothers and sisters, who’d moved a few rafters down. Later on, they’d all gone out flying.
It is hard to think that, within a month, these little birds
will be flying all the way to Africa for the
winter.