This Birding Life (12 page)

The nice thing about my local patch is that it provides an oasis of peace and quiet in the midst of city life. Apart from the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional whiff of hops from the nearby Mortlake brewery,
it's hard to believe that you're just a few miles from London's West End.

Bordered by housing estates on one side and the River Thames on the other, the patch also provides a welcome haven for birds, where they can feed, rest and spend the winter months in comfort. Until, that is, the weather intervenes. The cold snap around the New Year brought some noticeable changes to the birdlife here. As the water began to freeze for the first time since I began my visits, I awaited the outcome with keen interest. I certainly wasn't disappointed.

The most conspicuous new arrivals are the ducks. One early morning, at the height of the freeze-up, I counted 130 Tufted Ducks and more than 180 Shovelers, huddled together on the narrow strip of ice-free water in the centre of the lake. Shovelers are a regular autumn and winter sight here, living up to their name by ploughing their massive bills through the surface of the water to find their tiny invertebrate prey. As the waters froze, concentrating so many birds in such a small area, they looked almost like a single organism, moving in unison across the water in search of food.

The hard weather brought some unexpected new arrivals. Small flocks of Reed Buntings now haunt the patches of reeds around the lake, and a Grey Wagtail spends the early mornings searching for insect food along the concrete banks. Few birds are so badly named as this species, one of the most beautiful of all British birds. More slender and graceful than the commoner Pied Wagtail, the Grey Wagtail's slate-grey and yellow plumage and high-pitched call are guaranteed to draw attention – and not just from birdwatchers. This particular bird's arrival has given rise to territorial jealousy, with the resident Pied Wagtail chasing it away as soon as it dares to alight.

The cold weather has made the wintering flocks of Great, Blue and Long-tailed Tits even more confiding, and they can often be watched without binoculars as they feed just a couple of feet in front of my eyes. With them one day was a male Blackcap, a robust, greyish-brown warbler. Until recently the Blackcap was almost unknown in winter in
the British Isles. In the last few years, however, birds from central Europe have begun to change their migratory habits. Like their close relative, the Chiffchaff, some Blackcaps have discovered that it pays to forgo the long and dangerous migratory journey south in favour of a shorter movement westwards, to the relatively mild winter climate of the British Isles.

So instead of heading south-west towards Spain or North Africa, each autumn they hop across the Channel to spend the winter closer to home. Blackcaps are now regular visitors to birdtables, and a female bird (with a brown, rather than black, cap) spent Christmas in and around my own garden. If the present run of mild winters continues, especially in south-east England, we may even begin to see other summer visitors staying on here. Even that familiar proverb, ‘one swallow doesn't make a summer', may eventually become redundant.

In the meantime, as the cold snap recedes, life on the patch is getting back to normal. Soon the courtship rituals which mark the beginning of the breeding season will begin. In the middle of winter it's a cheering thought to consider another familiar proverb: ‘If winter comes, can spring be far behind?'

The aliens are here. No, not little green men, but big, green parakeets. Originally imported as cagebirds, then released back in the 1960s and 1970s, flocks of this Indian invader are now a regular sight around the south-west London suburbs. There, they find rich pickings among the ornamental parks and gardens.

So I wasn't surprised on a sunny morning last month when I heard a foreign but familiar screeching in the trees above my head. Looking up, I saw a lone Ring-necked Parakeet, an elegant, lime-green bird with
a ludicrously long tail. This first bird was obviously on a recce: taking a look around my local patch to see if there were any holes suitable for nesting. Despite attracting the hostility of a Magpie, he soon found one – then with a series of high-pitched calls, flew off across the River Thames.

A week or so later he was back with his mates – flying around their new territory like the birding equivalent of lager louts. Now up to five parakeets have taken up residence – much to the astonishment of the local crows, who frequently mob these unwelcome upstarts as they pass overhead.

Introduced species such as the Ring-necked Parakeet are often highly successful, mainly because they have several advantages over natives. First, they can exploit a vacant ecological niche, thus avoiding competition with other species. Second, they don't have any natural predators, so their populations often increase geometrically. Recently almost 700 parakeets were counted as they went to roost at a site by the River Thames at Walton.

In fact, alien species make up a substantial proportion of the birds seen at the patch. Of the sixty or so species I've recorded so far, no fewer than six are aliens – a ratio of one in ten. This is perhaps because introduced species tend to thrive in man-made habitats, and close to large areas of population, where food is more easily obtainable. This is certainly true of the most populous species: the Canada Goose, and also appears to hold for two more recent invaders, the parakeet and the Ruddy Duck.

Of course, most birds on the patch are still pukka, native British species. These include two welcome returners, a regular pair of Kestrels. They have taken to sitting on a branch just above the footpath, giving tremendous views, and neatly illustrating their difference in size – the female being appreciably bulkier than her mate. Together with a more elusive pair of Sparrowhawks, they seem likely to settle down to breed at Lonsdale Road.

And they're not the only ones. Mild, spring weather has encouraged
all the local birds to start forming pairs and defending territories for the breeding season to come. March gives the resident species a chance to get a head start on their migrant counterparts, and by the end of the month the first chicks should have begun to fledge. Early spring is a great time to practise your skills at identifying birdsong, especially while the foliage isn't yet fully grown, so you can still see the singing birds. If you're really keen, then you can get hold of tapes or CDs to help you practise.

But if you want to learn the call of the Ring-necked Parakeet, you won't find it on any of the usual recordings. Fortunately, that's not really a problem – like everything else about this new arrival, its high-pitched screeching is, quite simply, unforgettable.

Last month, after ten days birdwatching in Hungary, I passed over south-west London on the approach to Heathrow. Looking down, I caught sight of my local patch, hugging the bank of the River Thames alongside the Boat Race course between Hammersmith and Chiswick. For a moment I had, quite literally, a bird's-eye view of the place. A little strip of fresh water, surrounded by the lush greenery of spring. If I'd been a passing bird, instead of an airline passenger, I think I would have been tempted to drop in and see what was on offer.

But if it hadn't been for a small group of dedicated people and a far-sighted local council, all I would have seen would have been a housing estate or playing fields. A few years ago this disused reservoir was derelict, vandalised and under threat from development. Fortunately the local people got together with Richmond Council and created a nature reserve, preserving the site for newcomers like me to enjoy.

On most visits, I come across one of the people who campaigned for the reserve. For almost 30 years, Violet Hoare has taken a daily walk around the banks of Lonsdale Road Reservoir. She feeds the ducks, picks up litter and, despite failing eyesight, still manages to see most of the local birdlife. Violet regards the birds as ‘hers' and protects them with a fierce determination.

Fortunately for Violet and the rest of the regular visitors, it's been a good breeding season. Despite the usual disturbance from the kids who use the place as an adventure playground, a pair of Mute Swans has once again managed to raise young – five well-grown cygnets. Two Common Terns have returned from Africa, and with luck will breed on one of the artificial islands in the middle of the lake. Meanwhile Coots, Moorhens and Mallards are producing chicks like they're going out of fashion.

Britain is full of wonderful places like this: surrounded by suburban sprawl or what passes for ‘countryside' in these days of intensive agriculture. Sadly, many of them are now under threat of development. Not far away in south London, the former sewage farm at Beddington faces destruction, because of Thames Water's plans to turn it into a waste landfill site.

It's not only the human residents who are concerned about this. For years Beddington has been a welcome haven for migrating and wintering birds, especially waders, ducks and the declining Tree Sparrow. Even as you read this, localised breeding species such as Yellow Wagtail and Lapwing are raising their young there.

Of course in a decade or two, when the site is full of rubbish and has been landscaped, there will still be birds at Beddington. But they'll be those species that thrive in the company of humans, such as gulls and crows. The variety of species, which is what makes Beddington so special, will have gone, never to return. Another local patch will have been lost forever.

A more sympathetic development is going on elsewhere in the capital, at Barn Elms Reservoirs, near Hammersmith. There, on the site of
four disused reservoirs, the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust is creating its first urban wildlife centre. By the turn of the new century west London will hopefully have a site to rival anywhere in southern England, with purpose-built wetland habitats to attract a variety of breeding, migrating and wintering birds. It doesn't take much to see the educational possibilities of somewhere like that in the very heart of the city – a place for birds and people alike.