For the last two nights it has been so cold that the gas has frozen in the bottle, so we renamed the province 'Freezeland'. We can't have toast or coffee for breakfast until the sun warms the van through. Geese are now arriving in large numbers but the bitter north wind is hampering our ability to watch and enjoy them. It's time to start our own southward migration.
The eastern side of the Lauwersmeer has more extensive reedbeds than the west, and there are areas designated as 'open access', being laid out with parking spaces, picnic tables and footpaths through scrub and woodland. The scrub includes sea buckthorn heavy with bright orange berries, but there was little in the way of bird‑life, only magpies, fieldfares and twites seem to be braving the cold.
On the Meer itself there are small numbers of whooper swans and other waterfowl, plus a dozen or so dunlin and three snipe. I take a photo of the latter and they start getting suspicious, eyeing us up then running one at a time into cover. Further out in open water a small party of black‑headed gulls and goldeneye engage in a feeding frenzy ‑ the water appears to boil as the birds repeatedly dive and squabble over a concentrated food supply.
A low scrubby area looks just right for raptors, and buzzards are particularly well accounted for. With both common and rough-legged buzzards present, we have ample opportunity to study them in flight, confirming the differences described in the books. But, like telling shag from cormorant, separating these two needs a bit of practice.
North of the town of Holwerd, the main road goes out across the saltmarsh and mudflats of the Waddensee to the ferry terminal for Ameland, another of the Friesland Isles. The tide is out and the sight is spectacular. As far as the eye can see there are curlew and oystercatchers, thousands of them, with lesser numbers of redshank and dunlin. A few grey plovers run and peck the mud surface, while a single turnstone works its way along the base of the causeway. A half-dozen godwit come in, showing off their spidery flight silhouettes.
Fifty or so avocets feed at the water's edge. Groups of ten to fifteen fly in at intervals until there are about a hundred in all. Sometimes a small group feed in unison, their heads underwater and their up-turned rear ends looking rather like a miniature Sydney Opera House.
There are a few duck around too, and a couple of eider catch our attention as they waddle along the top of a breakwater and settle to roost on the highest point ‑ from where we stand they are well camouflaged against the background of mud and seaweed.
On the Meer itself there are small numbers of whooper swans and other waterfowl, plus a dozen or so dunlin and three snipe. I take a photo of the latter and they start getting suspicious, eyeing us up then running one at a time into cover. Further out in open water a small party of black‑headed gulls and goldeneye engage in a feeding frenzy ‑ the water appears to boil as the birds repeatedly dive and squabble over a concentrated food supply.A low scrubby area looks just right for raptors, and buzzards are particularly well accounted for. With both common and rough-legged buzzards present, we have ample opportunity to study them in flight, confirming the differences described in the books. But, like telling shag from cormorant, separating these two needs a bit of practice.
North of the town of Holwerd, the main road goes out across the saltmarsh and mudflats of the Waddensee to the ferry terminal for Ameland, another of the Friesland Isles. The tide is out and the sight is spectacular. As far as the eye can see there are curlew and oystercatchers, thousands of them, with lesser numbers of redshank and dunlin. A few grey plovers run and peck the mud surface, while a single turnstone works its way along the base of the causeway. A half-dozen godwit come in, showing off their spidery flight silhouettes.
Fifty or so avocets feed at the water's edge. Groups of ten to fifteen fly in at intervals until there are about a hundred in all. Sometimes a small group feed in unison, their heads underwater and their up-turned rear ends looking rather like a miniature Sydney Opera House.
There are a few duck around too, and a couple of eider catch our attention as they waddle along the top of a breakwater and settle to roost on the highest point ‑ from where we stand they are well camouflaged against the background of mud and seaweed.
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