Accidental lifer

During my Cranberry Fritillary expedition to the Hautes Fagnes, and since I knew the area was also good for dragonflies, I made a conscious effort to photograph any odonata that would sit still long enough.  There were very few about, however, and this was one of just two species I managed to photograph, the other being a Four-spotted Chaser.  I fully expected this to be yet another common species and tentatively uploaded it to iNaturalist as an Azure Bluet, a species which I see pretty much everywhere, Brussels included.  My identification was soon corrected, however, as this is actually a female Spearhead Bluet or Northern Damselfly, a species which has disappeared from much of its former range and is now very rare in Belgium. 
Now I'm fast running out of new butterfly species to find in Belgium, I should perhaps start working on my odonata list!

Cranberry craziness

I finally managed to connect with my first Cranberry Fritillaries last weekend.  In Belgium, this species is restricted to peat bogs in the Ardennes and I have made several trips to try and find one over the years but only twice seen a distant fritillary in flight which may or may not have been another species.  This time, the reserve seemed very quiet at first but I soon spotted a fritillary feeding on a thistle and managed to fire off a few record shots.

I was, however, standing on a boardwalk in the middle of a bog so couldn't get any closer and the butterfly quickly dropped down into the grasses and disappeared.  I thus decided to try the cycle path surrounding the reserve since the verges had a lot more flowers than the bog itself plus my movements would be less restricted there.  This was a wise move since I soon saw another Cranberry Fritillary, then two more, and eventually counted around 20 individuals over the next hour or two!

Another eagle!

Earlier this month, I guided a small group in the Ardennes.  The excessive rainfall of the preceding weeks meant we failed to find Dipper and we didn't have any luck with Nutcrackers either but, just like my guided tour in May, we got to see an eagle instead!  We had climbed up the observation tower near Trois-Ponts and were admiring the aerial antics of a couple of Ravens when an immature Short-toed Eagle came down the valley and passed the tower at eye level.  This is only my second Short-toed Eagle in Belgium, the first being fifteen years ago. 
Other than that, a brief visit to the Hautes-Fagnes once again failing to find my nemesis Belgian butterfly, Cranberry Fritillary, did provide some other species.  I was admiring this beautifully fresh Small Copper (I've never seen one with such pronounced lilac spots) when a Small Pearl-bordered Fritillary obligingly landed on the same patch of thistles!

Uphill struggle

The title of this post could easily relate to my recent progress trying to add species to my Belgian year list but, in fact, sums up the antics of the Nutcrackers I saw during my annual, autumnal hike in the Ardennes last week.  As soon as I got to the Nutcracker capital of Logbiermé, one bird flew past me on its way downhill, only to return around five minutes later with a crop full of acorns.  This repeated itself several times over the next hour or so, with the uphill, return flights to their territories within the spruce forest looking very laboured since the birds were so heavy with acorns, they kept having to stop in a tree to rest every 100m or so!  Yesterday, it was me who struggled to locate this half-hidden, adult Night Heron, despite it sitting in exactly the same place as the immature I saw last summer.

It is surely the same individual, therefore, now in full breeding plumage, including a ridiculously long head-plume. 
This Comma butterfly, on the other hand, was much less shy, and seemed desperate to demonstrate how it got its name.

BE #216 (Nutcracker, Night Heron)

BRU #112

Bye bye winter

Within one week of me standing in the snow watching Woodcocks, our daytime temperatures had increased by a ridiculous twenty degrees. 
The cranes reacted immediately, with plenty of northbound migration as a result.  I thus did the long hike in the Ardennes I usually do each autumn, seeing around 900 cranes in total, plus several Red Kites.

Other new birds for the year included Lesser Redpoll, Bullfinch, lots of Crossbills, and a pair of Dippers I managed to find along the River Salm during my 20-minute wait at Trois-Ponts train station.

Before our winter visitors all disappear, I decided to try and add Bewick's Swan to my year list yesterday evening by visiting their roost on the Kalmthoutse Heide after work.  It was a beautiful evening as you can see below but the swans didn't arrive until 19:17, by which time it was almost dark and I was already on my way back.  They flew right over me calling, however, so I at least heard them, taking my list to 130 species by the end of February.

V is for Vielsalm

Crane migration really got underway last week, with a phenomenal 11,399 being counted along the German border in just a few hours on Thursday evening.  I thus decided yesterday was a good day to go down to the Ardennes in the hope of intercepting some.  Vielsalm station is nestled in a steep-sided river valley which dominates the landscape for miles around and acts as a funnel for migrating birds, so I thought that was my best bet and I wasn't wrong!  I already spotted 12 low-flying Cranes from the train as we were pulling into the station and, an hour later, I had counted 1,884 of them, with several of the groups passing directly overhead.

I still hadn't moved more than 100m from the train station, though, so I eventually pulled myself away and went for a walk in the surrounding forest, with a few more, large groups of high-flying cranes taking my day's tally to 2262.

A single Red Kite also joined in the migration and it was strange to see groups of Woodpigeons accompanying the cranes, whilst a group of migrating Fieldfares were doing their own thing.  The forest was rather quiet although I did locate a group of around 30 Common Crossbills, some of which were singing, which I don't get to hear very often.

Black-winged conquerors

Back in 2017, a very thorough paper appeared in Dutch Birding detailing the extraordinary range expansion of Black-winged Kites in both Israel (from 1 to 150 breeding pairs in less than five years) and France (a threefold increase between 2010 and 2014), accompanied by a strong increase in vagrancy elsewhere, especially in Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany and Switzerland.  The authors of that paper concluded that we could "expect a further expansion of the breeding population's range...to eastern and northern France" but not even they predicted breeding in Belgium.  Well, the unthinkable has happened and, last week, a pair were found nesting in the Hautes Fagnes!  Above is a habitat shot of the area but, if you look closely, you can just about see a white blob at the top of the two conifers on either side of the photo.  They are nesting at the centre of a nature reserve with no access but the path around the periphery allows for good, albeit distant views, and I got to see them mating, hunting, and taking turns on the nest.  In this heavily cropped image, you can even make out the black wings and mask on one of the birds.

They are known to breed all year, but this is exceptionally late so fingers crossed it doesn't get too cold for them too soon. 
Having got my fill of my 316th species in Belgium, I continued the lovely walk around the nature reserve, seeing my first Great Grey Shrike of the year as well as several Red Kites and two late Swifts, while this pair of Black Darters were also busy ensuring the next generation.

Incidental birding

As you may have noticed from my recent posts, it's that time of the year when butterflying tends to take over from birding but travelling to far flung corners of Belgium does have some birding rewards even if I am looking more down than up.  On Friday, I visited the Fagne de Malchamps, south of Spa, spotting a Black Stork from the train on the way.  Once there, the biggest surprise by far was a heard-only Wryneck calling from a dense thicket, with more Red-backed Shrikes and a nice Woodlark.  It was, however, the butterflies I'd come for with Cranberry Fritillary being my main target.  I did see one fritillary flying low over the fen but, despite following it for over 100 metres, it showed no signs of stopping.  I thought that was probably the only species likely to be seen in that habitat, so was happy to count it as a 'probable' Cranberry, until I then found some Small Pearl-bordered Fritillaries in some bushes nearby.

My first of the year and a nice species I've only ever seen in one other location, but not what I'd come all this way to see.  There was a second potential new species for my Belgian list, though, and that one did play ball.  I first saw it buzzing around some buttercups and then noticed just two flowering spikes of its hostplant, Common Bistort, so sat down and waited.

I'd never really understood why it was called Purple-edged Copper, the purplish leading edge to the forewing not really showing well in the fieldguides, so I was very happy with the above photo of my first one in Belgium, having only seen it once before in the Alps.

Wot, no birds?

Earlier this week, I did my annual hike across the rolling hills of the Reuland Plateau in Belgian Luxembourg in the hope of seeing Nutcracker.  It was a bit early for them, however, and I didn't get to see any although I did hear what was possibly one calling way off in the distance.  The only migration I saw was a single Marsh Harrier and a group of six Barn Swallows right at the end of the day, and there were very few passerine migrants around too.  The only birds of note were the ones I typically have to go to this part of Belgium for; Tree Sparrow, Red Kite, Eurasian Treecreeper, Common Crossbill and a heard-only Raven.  Thankfully, though, there were still a few butterflies around to liven up the 20km walk.  Some Pale Clouded Yellows took me a while to identify as they just wouldn't sit still, in stark contrast to this Peacock, which is always a pleasure to see, even when part of its wing is missing.

Back to the birds

I've been digressing quite a lot lately, with butterflies, orchids, dragonflies and even the owlfly of my last post.  Last weekend, however, news broke of a Greenish Warbler, a potential lifer, singing near the German border so I've had a tense week hoping it would stay.  Greenish Warblers overshoot most springs but very rarely stay for more than a couple of days and are usually in hopelessly inaccessible places.  After lots of juggling with bus and train timetables, I eventually found a bus stop only 5km's walk from the bird, which was still singing Friday, and so, yesterday being my first free day since it was found, I gave it a try.  Once there, it didn't take long to hear it sing twice from the other side of the river but then it shut up completely for the next half hour.  This scenario repeated itself several times over the next two hours with the bird giving just one brief burst of song and then remaining slient, making itself impossible to locate.  Four other birders were there with me and no-one managed to see it at all so Greenish Warbler now joins Corncrake, Dupont's Lark and Great Snipe on my unwanted list of heard-only species.  Very frustrating, therefore, although the long wait was livened up by three passing Black Storks, a male Goshawk and a Raven.  On the way there, I found a pair of Whinchat, a scarce breeding bird in Belgium and probably the first time I've seen them on their breeding grounds.  There were also lots of Violet Coppers and Bog Fritillaries flying around, which I pretty much ignored in my hurry to get to the warbler, but had time to photograph after I'd given up.  I particularly like this one where my butterfly portrait was photobombed by a hoverfly!

February wash out

The first half of this month was so horribly wet and windy that I only managed a few short outings to my Brussels patch as well as a brief twitch to the first-winter Iceland Gull along the canal.  I made the most of a rare, sunny day mid-month by treating myself to a day at the coast, seeing two Short-eared Owls hunting in broad daylight, a flock of around 500 Barnacle Geese, and even bigger numbers of Curlew and Lapwing.  Most interesting, however, was a small group of White-fronted Geese which contained two orange-beaked individuals.  They were not of the Greenlandic race but regular albifrons and both were juveniles, so it would seem beak colouration may be more variable than is generally thought, or at least developing with age.

The weather had improved by the third week so I had a day in the Ardennes where a heavy layer of snow had fallen, producing a magical winter wonderland.  Unfortunately, though, most of the birds seemed to have retreated to lower elevations as we saw very litttle all day long and, after an hour-long walk in the forest, had only managed to find two Coal Tits, two Crested Tits, plus a Goldcrest!

Reuland wanderings

Yesterday, I did my annual, autumnal hike across the Reuland plateau, together with a visiting birder who wanted to see Nutcracker.  It was a beautiful day as you can see above but much quieter birdwise than this time last year, with very few migrants around.  Nevertheless, we managed to see both Short-toed and Eurasian Treecreepers well and got great looks at Marsh, Willow, Crested and Coal Tits, the latter of which we watched bathing in a puddle.  There was no sign of any Nutcrackers anywhere so we arrived a little disheartened into Stavelot, where a big group of at least 150 Fieldfares were pretty much the only birds we'd seen all afternoon.  As we were waiting for the bus, however, I noticed a big line of Cranes in the distance which contained at least 650 birds.  The same group was spotted almost an hour later, 65km to the south, meaning that they were flying at 60km per hour at least, although it is unlikely they were flying in a straight line.  No sooner had they disappeared, I noticed what I thought was going to be our umpteenth Jay of the day flying over the road but, at first glance, it seemed rather dark.  It then circled around, revealing the shorter tail, broader wings and distinctive bill shape of a Nutcracker, giving my visitor a brief but convincing view before it, too, flew off out of sight.  Phew!

Frustrating fritillaries

Today, I visited the Holzwarchetal nature reserve in the very east of Belgium for a spot of butterflying.   I first discovered this reserve thanks to a fellow birder+butterflier last spring, when we spent the whole day photographing Violet Coppers.  Today, though, I was hoping to find some fritillaries as two different species had been reported there recently.  Fritillaries have to be my favourite group of European butterflies due to their intricate patterns and often highly localised distributions, which also make them some of the most difficult ones to see.  There are at least sixteen different species in Belgium, of which I have only seen two so far.  My field guide mentions that they need a lot of nectar and groups of them can often be found on flowers, where they are easy to observe and photograph.  Well, the fritillaries in the Holzwarche valley have not read the instructions manual!  I kept seeing them fluttering around but they steadfastly refused to land on anything and some of them looked like they might be migrating as they hurried past me up the valley side and out of sight into the trees.  Those that were hanging around, were sticking low in the vegetation in an area which was fenced off so I couldn't even get close to them, not that identifying one in flight would have been possible anyway.  The first hour and a half was very frustrating, therefore, until one finally landed not too far away and just long enough for me to take a single picture.  Amazingly, that one photograph turned out not only to be in focus, but also to show the characteristic, light-centred rings of the rare Bog Fritillary!

There may have been another species present but this was the only one which stopped long enough for me to identify.  Nevertheless, the day's butterfly list totalled 11 species, including a few more Violet Coppers and the even scarcer Woodland Ringlet.  I did remember to look up every now and again, though, as two Red Kites kept making their plaintive whistling call as they circled overhead (this one looks like a juvenile).

I also saw two male Red-backed Shrikes, another species only to be found in the south and east of Belgium, several singing Marsh Warblers, Beautiful Demoiselle and Large Red Damselfly, plus this Spotted Orchid.

Eureka!

I decided to spend last night in the Ardennes in the hope of finally adding Tengmalm's Owl to my Belgian list.  Not long after I started my night-time walk, I heard what I thought was one in the distance but it was very faint and too brief to be sure.  Despite heading in the general direction of where it seemed to come from, I never heard it again, so unfortunately had to leave it as unconfirmed.  Some time later, though, I did get to listen to a Long-eared Owl singing, so my nocturnal wanderings were not in vain. 
This morning, I had a walk around the area to see which diurnal birds were around.  A singing Blackcap greeted me, seeming rather out of place with the thick, overnight, frost around.  There were lots of Fieldfares, Dippers displaying, Willow Tits singing, some bright Yellowhammers, and even a Muskrat gathering nesting material in the river.  Right at the end of the walk, I noticed a tortoiseshell butterfly sunning itself on the path.  My instant reaction now is to take a photo of these, as you can't really differentiate between them in general field conditions and, sure enough, this one turned out to be my first Large Tortoiseshell.  I've been wanting to see this species for several years and have even made a couple of trips especially to no avail so I was not expecting to find one of these, albeit a very worn individual presumably just out of hibernation.  Eureka!

Wot, no Chiffchaffs?

Despite the prediction I made in my last post, the first half of this month has been strangely lacking in Chiffchaffs.  A long walk around my Brussels patch last week didn't turn up any at all but did provide a welcome surprise when I looked up to try to locate a calling Hawfinch and noticed 14 Cranes passing silently overhead!  A full day hiking in the Ardennes last weekend didn't turn up any cranes but did give us several sightings of both Red Kite and Raven, as well as my first Tree Sparrows and Bramblings of the year.  The latter were feeding together with Chaffinches and Crossbills in an area which was teeming with Siskins, their calls reverberating all around us.  It was amazing to listen to and, judging from the noise they were making, I reckon there were possibly several hundred of them even if we only saw a few dozen.
Back on my patch this afternoon, about a week behind schedule, I finally connected with two Chiffchaffs feeding quietly in some waterside trees but I'm still waiting to hear that repetitive chiff-chaff song so typical of spring.  The resident birds are in full song, however, including Marsh Tit (below) and even a Firecrest today, whilst other species are busy nesting and the first Egyptian goslings have already hatched!

Nutcracker sweet

Such was the view during a 16-km hike across the Reuland plateau on Monday.  This is the best place in Belgium I know to see Nutcrackers and the three of us were not disappointed, with eight different sightings of these shy birds flying back and forth, and another perched at close range for us to admire.  The day started off very promisingly indeed with both Hawfinch and Bullfinch almost as soon as we stepped out of the train, and the first half hour was rather overwhelming, with groups of Fieldfares flying in all directions and quite a bit of visible migration, mostly Chaffinches and Starlings, as well as four Rook.  We kept hearing and catching glimpses of Common Crossbills in flight and eventually found a dozen or so feeding atop a spruce tree as another sang its melodious, almost Woodlark-like song in the distance.  Having enjoyed the Nutcracker feast, we continued down into Stavelot, where I heard a call I didn't recognise and looked up to see a long-tailed passerine fly quickly past us.  The call didn't fit any of the pipits and it was too big for a wagtail so I was stumped until I got home and thumbed through the field guide for potential solutions, this flight call of Great Grey Shrike perfectly matching what I heard.  This brought our very successful day's total to 50 species, which, considering the total lack of gulls and shorebirds and only Mallard and Mute Swan representing the waterfowl, is amazing for this time of year.