It’s been good
for hen harriers of late, and they’ve been seen far and wide on the peninsula
this winter; perhaps the severe weather has driven more of them further
west. There’s a roost on the south
side of the Burry Inlet, but numbers vary. It needs lots of evening visits to get a good idea of the
number of individuals involved, but even then it’s not easy to be sure how
many are there.
Arriving in
late afternoon well before the light fades is best. The salt marsh at this time of day is quiet and not much
moves. With the tide out, I can see
for miles and find only two males and a ringtail. An hour passes before they finally drop
out of sight into the rank vegetation. I’ve heard that a male marsh harrier was seen here recently. Most migrate south in the
autumn, but some stay, especially in the east of England, and we’ve had them on Gower
in previous winters. No luck this
evening and my hope of a short-eared owl also brings no joy; they too are
unpredictable, but in some winters can be guaranteed here at dusk.
The light
fades and I drive slowly along the deserted marsh road. A silhouetted kestrel hovers away to my
right; it’s far too dim to say male or female, but a merlin makes up for
everything. Sitting obligingly on
a fence post only a few yards away, he tears away at a meadow pipit, or is it a linnet? The light
disappears as invisible tawny owls appear in the woods. These are much easier to count,
especially at this time of year, when vocal males ready themselves for the
breeding season just round the corner.
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