Bird Cruising

There are many times in life when I wish I was in any way cool or trendy. But I am in fact a geek, and rarely does it hit home as much as when I go bird cruising. When people ask me how I'm spending my weekend, the reply 'bird cruising' leaves many people dumbfounded. It shouldn't do, as it is pretty much exactly as it sounds, but folks who don't know about my passion for birds assume it means something completely different, give me a knowing nod, and wish me luck. This weekend I went bird cruising in Plymouth.

The stunning Tamar Bridge backdrop to the river

An ex-colleague and good friend of mine, Bruce, runs a series of boat trips up the River Tamar each winter, with his better half Chris. When I lived in Cornwall, my job was to wear something with an RSPB logo on it, wave at the crowd when I was introduced, and then freeze my extremities off for three hours whilst we travelled up and down the river. In theory I should be spotting birds to help Bruce with his commentary, but with so many avid spotters on board this rarely happens. Or if I do see something, I ask someone more qualified than me to determine it's identity. In practice my role is really to furnish Chris with the latest gossip to keep her entertained, and to ask Bruce unfairly complex bird-related questions to make sure he is on the ball (he never could pronounce the Latin name for Oystercatcher - a hilarious joke amongst us bird geeks!).

The Oystercatcher - Haematopus ostralegus

As a visitor returning for a one-time only tour of duty, I was delighted to find out that the early forecasts of snow and strong winds turned out to be relatively inaccurate, with stunning clear skies overhead. However, the plunging temperatures did necessitate a lengthy discussion about how many layers would be needed, and no matter how many were taken they were still not enough. The river is obviously quite an exposed place to be, and the boat lacks obvious opportunities for warming up through any form of rigorous exercise on board.

The River Tamar on a slightly warmer and calmer day!

The boat we usually use was in dry dock for repairs, and the replacement lacked the same capacity. This could have been beneficial if we had adopted the survival strategy of emperor penguins, rotating to the sides periodically to have our turn on the cold edge. Sadly this does not lend itself to suitable bird watching conditions, as people tend to want to see the birds that are spotted, which means a clear line of sight for binoculars to be pointed through. The new boat also had different technical arrangements to the old one, which meant the first ten minutes was spent fiddling with microphones in an attempt to make Bruce audible. First there was feedback, then there was nothing, then the volume was too low and finally the sound would inexplicably cut out part way through a sentence. It was like listening to an Eminem song on the radio with the explicit lyrics blanked out. This had a pretty disastrous effect, as sentences would end just as they got interesting: 'the bird on the left is a...' or 'curlews will mostly be eating...'. Hardly a cliff-hanger ending, I admit, but inconvenient nonetheless. The problem was eventually resolved with the use of a cable, which restricted Bruce's movements to a small area of the top deck like a bulldog on a chain. 

Leading ornithologist and part-time Madonna impersonator, Bruce Taggart

Once this was resolved we hit a steady stream of birds and associated commentary. We saw curlews attended by crows, learnt the difference between stabber and snipper oystercatcher foraging techniques, and were accompanied for at least half an hour by our own personal common gull (which is, incidentally, the least common type of gull in the area). A rare duck had been spotted in the area lately, and we had to double check every duck that we passed to be certain not to miss out. The main highlights of the cruise are the avocets and spoonbills.

The surprisingly uncommon Common Gull

Avocets are the beautiful and elegant black and white waders with an upturned bill that feature on the RSPB logo. The fact that avocets returned to breed in the UK is largely thanks to Hitler. To counter the threat of invasion from German forces on our Eastern seaboard, vulnerable areas of low lying coastal land were flooded. The resulting habitat, along with little disturbance during the war years, provided ideal conditions for the birds. Although they don't breed in the south-west, our rivers and estuaries provide suitably mild winter feeding grounds for them, and there can be a couple of hundred found around the Tamar Estuary each winter, usually in several flocks. After an hour or so heading up the Tamar, we still hadn't found any avocets in the areas we usually see them, and were starting to get concerned when an eagle-eyed spotter, another RSPB colleague Stuart, located about 200 in a flock at the river's edge. Conveniently by this point in the river the edge was very close to the boat as the channel narrowed, and we had fantastic views of the flock moving along the edge and also circling around the boat and landing back on the mud.

Avocet flypast

The spoonbills are usually found on the River Lynher, a tributary of the Tamar which we also navigate our way up. Spoonbills are imaginatively named birds, having as they do a spoon shaped bill. They have only recently started breeding in the UK, and relatively few birds are found in the country - the Lynher is one of the best places to see them. They are the size of herons, and bright white, so it would be easy to assume that this makes them stand out. Sadly not. When feeding along the shore they blend neatly into the reflective water and mud surface. We often encounter them roosting on rat island at the mouth of the Tamar. As we approached the island, the gathered band of spotters (what is the collective noun for a group of birdwatchers; a flock? A geekdom? A twitch?!) started poking their eyes onto telescopes and jostling for position in an attempt to be the first to locate a spoonbill. But none were to be seen on the island. Fearing failure (and these trips never fail to turn up a spoonbill!) we started up river, only to hear the call that the birds had cunningly tucked themselves onto the back of the island, on the shallow side where the boat could not go. They had also tucked their spoons (at least the size of a wooden spoon) under their wings and gone to sleep, which leaves 100 or so eager birdwatchers staring at three white immobile blobs.

Spoonbills in happier, more active times

Although we were slightly disappointed not to see them wing in wing attempting to conga around rat island, thus is the way of things in nature. You can never be certain what you will or won't see, and most of us who enjoy bird watching will have as many and more failures as successes. Doing guided tours and commentaries can be a frustrating experience when you don't want people to leave disappointed, but there were many other species to be seen, and Bruce's knowledge of the wildlife and history of the area kept the commentary going throughout, as well as his 'show and tell' highlights - the lugworms, ragworms and hydrobia snails that he brings along in Tupperware containers like the remnants of a bad takeaway. We saw mergansers, grebes, godwits, shelduck, and a personal best four foxes, all of which I picked out in fields bordering the river. These stunning russet creatures shone in the winter light, although Bruce was convinced that one was a rusty oil barrel. Then again he has previously been convinced that a plastic bag was a little egret. So often the way when wildlife watching.

Great-crested Grebe in winter plumage

With the cruise at an end we tried to recover some form of circulation and promptly headed off for a carvery. This has long been a tradition of the cruises, with plates piled high with steaming vegetables and thick cuts of meat, smothered in gravy. One of my previous colleagues, a larger than life character who, for the purposed of the blog, I shall call Roland Digby, was famous for his appetite and ability to load up his plate to an alarming degree (he once told me that the tactic was to use some of the sticky veg like grouting, using their natural adhesive qualities to stick other items to the plate). At this point I pity the poor birds that have to forage all day for a few worms and snails to keep themselves alive in freezing conditions, whilst we tuck into a prepared meal in the comfort of a warm room with fine company and a pint of Tribute to boot. A thoroughly satisfying way to round off a great trip.

At the time of writing, there were still a few spaces available on a Tamar cruise on Tuesday 17th Feb. For more information click here.