Trevor the Honking Heron

Sometimes you see something, you're not quite sure what's happening, but you take a couple of snaps just in case it turns out to be interesting or unusual. That - more by luck than judgement - is what has occurred in this instance.

I saw the Heron crossing the lake, it's head was down and bill open, so I assumed it was carrying something and took a couple of photos.

When I examined the pictures I realised it was not carrying anything - but was in fact, ejecting the indigestible elements of earlier meals in the form of a large pellet.

Better out than in

I know many birds bring up pellets comprising of varying combinations of fur, feather, bones, claws and even fish scales depending on their dining habits.

Over the last few years, I have had the opportunity to poke around in the undissolved  bits of owl, raptor and even kingfisher meals, usually found in the form of small round or oblong pellets, but  it had never occurred to me that Grey Herons also have a need to get rid of the bits their digestive juices can't manage.

The Heron is well know for it's catholic tastes when it comes to shovelling things down it capacious bill. If you consider that, along with fish, it will also glup down, amphibians, reptiles, small birds and rodents, I suppose it should come as no surprise, there must be some fairly solid material to be disposed off in the less than conventional manner. 

I don't know if ejecting pellets on the wing is a common occurrence, but I guess it would make sense that many birds might want to leave this material away from the nest or roost so as not to attract predators. Having said that, I suspect that there are not many hunters who fancy taking on a pretty evil looking bird with a 12 inch spear for a mouth.

Fatal Assumption

I rarely mention the wildlife in my back garden, for the very good reason that like the garden it's pretty small and generally uninteresting.

Despite the above, I have at least, up to this winter, enjoyed the company of between six and ten house sparrows which regularly came to the seed and peanut feeders which hang on the back of the garage wall.

Me Old Cock Sparrow on the garage wall

Occasionally I might spot a blue, great or long-tailed tit on the feeders and maybe the odd blackbird, dunnock or robin bouncing round on the ground, but, I'm afraid most days it was just house sparrows that came to enjoy the free food. And that was fine with me - they are a very active and in their own way, pretty little bird. Also, given the sad decline in numbers over the last twenty years, it was good to know that they were successfully breeding locally.

Unfortunately, over the last few months, I have only seen occasional glimpses of these formally constant visitors.

The long-tailed tit - one of my occasional visitors

and the bird with the saddest eyes in featherdom

 

Many of my friends, who regularly put out food, have also been reporting a marked lack of birds in their gardens this winter and there seems to have been general agreement, that this mild weather has resulted in plenty of natural food being accessible and so the birds did not need to visit our feeders.

I can't help but think that maybe there is flaw in this argument, in so much that; if the birds were happy to avail themselves of an easy meal in summer and autumn when natural food was really plentiful, why would they stop in winter, even if it is much milder than normal.

I'm not sure I have truly bottomed out the reason for the missing sparrows, but I have now definitely found at least one factor:

Sparrow or anti-sparrow? - hawk

The roof on which this raptor is perched is the same garage off which the feeders hang, so by keeping close to the wall, he is trying to stay out of sight long enough to get a dart at anything coming to the food about 10 feet below him.

The eyes have it

Like many wildlife observers I now find myself in the paradoxical situation of caring for the house sparrows and worrying about their future, but at the same time loving the chance to see the sparrowhawk at such close quarters.

I suspect my quandary pales to insignificance, compared to that facing the house sparrows!