Bird Watching In The Hills

by W. P. B. Stonehouse

The true bird watcher tends to be a bit of a fanatic.  His hobby slowly grows upon him until it possesses him entirely, so that he can think and talk of nothing else.  When he has reached this state he may be considered a fully Hedged bird watcher, and he is certainly completely happy because he is extracting the maximum amount of interest and pleasure from his curious pursuit.

Now the mountaineer is usually an obsessionalist in his own right.  He also has an interest which is completely absorbing, and since it is difficult to serve two masters it is easy to see why so few climbers have any knowledge of bird life.  Nevertheless, I believe that the mountaineer can obtain a great deal of additional pleasure by taking an interest in the bird life of the hills, without in any way interfering with his sport.

The only equipment needed is a good pair of field glasses, which need not be very heavy, a magnification of X7 or x8 being quite sufficient.  They should have a wide field of vision, a central focussing screw and a high light gathering power.

A good pocket book for the identification of birds is “A Field Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe” by Peterson, Mountford and Hollam, which is equally helpful in this country and on the continent.

Before considering the individual birds likely to be seen in the mountains it is worth while noting that comparatively few species nest above the 1,000 feet level in Britain and fewer still reside there throughout the year.

Fortunately, although the number of birds is small it includes some of our most interesting species, and the lack of cover makes their presence obvious to an observer.

What birds are most likely to be seen on the hills?  Probably the most conspicuous and the most exciting are the larger birds of prey, together with the raven, which make themselves obvious to the least observant by their habit of soaring across vast tracks of countryside.  The Golden Eagle is a true mountain bird, breeding in the hills and resident there throughout the year.  Its stronghold is the Scottish Highlands, but very occasionally immature birds penetrate further south, even to Yorkshire, the last fully authenti­cated occasion being on the 17th November, 1902, at Kettlewell, when the bird was killed.  The last occasion when Golden Eagles actually nested in Yorkshire was in 1753 or 1754, when a pair nested on Ravenstones in Saddleworth.  It is a magnificent bird, rather like an enormous buzzard, but the neck, wings and tail are relatively long, and the occasional slow downward beat of the wings interrupting the soaring flight give an impression of enormous power even at a considerable distance, so that confusion between the two is not really justifiable.  Immature birds have white tails, and should not on that account be confused with the white-tailed eagle.

A very vivid personal memory is an encounter that I and a friend had with a pair whilst walking on An Teallach during August, 1950.  We had stopped for lunch on Bidein a’Ghlass Thuill and had found a conveniently sheltered spot just below the summit.  The weather was glorious and we lazed about there for some time, basking in the sun and idly viewing the tangled hills of the mainland.  Suddenly, an outcry arose amongst the meadow pipits and I looked up just in time to see two golden eagles about to land on the summit; only a few feet above my head.  The great wings were already fully extended to act as brakes, and the legs, feathered to the claws, were outstretched to make the touch down.  The birds caught sight of us, wheeled gracefully, and flew rapidly away towards the East.

In the Lake District and North Wales, the buzzard takes the place of the eagle.  It is a beautiful bird with a wing span of four to five feet, and is usually seen soaring in magnificent wide spirals, making its plaintive mewing call.  The nest is usually on a rocky ledge and there is considerable competition for suitable sites between buzzards and ravens, so that aerial battles between the two species are common and can be very fascinating to watch.

The raven is rather more common than the buzzard and makes itself equally conspicuous by soaring.  It looks rather like a crow, but is much larger and has a tail which is much more wedge shaped.

The call is very characteristic, a deep “Pruk, Pruk,” and so is its soaring flight, broken by all sorts of curious dives and turns.  Frequently it turns completely over, and glides upside-down for a short distance, or it may suddenly make a nose-dive with half-closed wings.  Apart from its “Pruk, Pruk” it has many other calls, a favourite one being a noise remarkably like a cork being withdrawn from a bottle, called, appropriately enough, “cork-popping.”  Usually a solitary bird, it sometimes collects in parties, and numbers of 100 or more are said to be not uncommon in the Outer Hebrides.

I have seen seven ravens cavorting together along the cliffs of Helvellyn and Lower Man, indulging in all sorts of aerobatics.  That was in mid-March and as the breeding season starts in February, I imagine that they were probably a flock of non-breeding adults or yearlings.  Their courtship is rather charming, and it is an extraordinary thing to see two such sinister looking birds standing side by side, gently rubbing each others necks and making curious soft calls.

The peregrine falcon is another bird that may be met with in the hills, though it is much rarer and less conspicuous than the buzzard or raven.  It resembles a large Kestrel in shape, with sharp pointed wings, but the flight is quite different, incredibly fast with winnowing beats alternating with long glides on extended wings.  When it has outflown its quarry it makes the famous “stoop,” diving with half closed wings and at such speed that a rushing sound is produced.  The glimpse of a scimitar winged bird flying with grim purpose and great speed is all that is normally granted to the casual observer.

Some years ago I was watching the ungainly and rather comic antics of a family party of five ravens on a crag overlooking a Pennine Valley, when their activities were rudely interrupted by an indignant peregrine falcon which appeared from across the dale at tremendous speed and made a stoop towards them.  In an instant all was confusion but before the ravens were fairly air­borne the peregrine was well on its way back to the fells on the other side of the valley.  A few peregrines still breed in Yorkshire, and others may be seen in the course of their winter migration from Scandinavia.

Two other birds of prey are not uncommon on the moors, the merlin, and the short eared owl.  The merlin is our smallest falcon, the male being about the same size as a mistle thrush.  It is usually seen flying fast, rather close to the ground with rapid wing beats and frequent changes of direction.  The short eared owl is a somewhat eccentric member of its family.  It nests on the ground and is quite prepared to go hunting in full daylight, although it prefers the dusk.  It is a magnificent bird, about the same size as a tawny owl and has a most curious flight, typically owl like one minute, and resembling a hawk the next.

But the hills have much to offer apart from birds of prey.  In the Scottish Highlands, the Ptarmigan is reasonably common in rocky places at heights of over 2,000 feet, looking something like a white grouse as it creeps over the rocks, and at higher levels still we may have the great good fortune to see the two rarest of our mountain breeders, the snow bunting and the dotterel.

The snow bunting likes screes, its range being from Sutherland down to Perthshire and it breeds usually at the height of 3,500 feet or above.  It is a smallish bird, attractively got up in black and white.  The dotterel is to be found on stony ridges and also on tussocky ground in the Cairngorms and the Monadhliath where it breeds down to the 3,000 feet contour.  It is an attractive plump wader and is normally ridiculously tame.  There are still a few breeding in the Pennines at heights of over 2,600 feet, but it has been exterminated in Yorkshire, where one of its last strongholds was probably Mickle Fell.

At lower levels on the moors are the golden plovers and curlews, with their beautiful melancholy calls, and less commonly other waders such as dunlin, common redshank and, on some of the wilder moors of the highlands, the greenshank.  A list of moor­land birds would also include meadow pipit, twite, whinchat and many others.

Moorland streams have their own bird life, such as the common sandpiper with its habit of perching on low rocks and bobbing up and down, the white chested dipper, the graceful grey wagtail and the white collared ring-ousel.

In the winter the hills are largely deserted, but upland sheets of water such as tarns and moorland reservoirs are often visited by wildfowl including many that have come south from Scandinavian and Arctic breeding grounds.  Mallard, teal, tufted duck, wigeon, pochard, golden eye, scaup, merganser, goosander, may all be seen at one time or another on such waters, especially during the autumn and spring migrations.

Sometimes a visit to a familiar water may be rewarded by the unexpected sight of a party of wild swans.  These are usually whoopers, rather talkative visitors from Iceland, which are easily recognised by their upright necks and their lemon yellow bills which lack the mute swan’s black knob.

In recent years whoopers have wintered with increasing frequency on certain Lake District meres, including Elterwater in Great Langdale, and they are also fairly regular visitors to Gowthwaite reservoir and Semerwater in Yorkshire.

 

This is a very brief and incomplete account of bird life in the hills.  No mention has been made of any of the extreme rarities, nor of those birds that can be seen more commonly and conveniently at lower altitudes.  Nearly all the birds mentioned, with the exception of the snow bunting and the dotterel, are either fairly common or else very conspicuous.

I would like to add a word of warning.  The mountains represent the last refuge for many of our most magnificent birds of prey.  They have been relentlessly persecuted elsewhere and are only just managing to hold their own in the very wildest parts of our country.

The climber can help to preserve them by avoiding their breeding ledges when possible and above all, by refraining from talking in public about any eyries he may happen to come across.