Splendid Isolation: Birding through Covid-19
These are surreal times. These are uncertain times too as Governments across the globe assess the spread of the Coronavirus (Covid-19) on an almost hourly basis. Across Europe the spread of the, at times, fatal illness has be met with a multitude of responses, from the lockdown of entire countries to a “let’s see what happens”, all together more fluid scenario.
The political, economic and social ramifications of this unprecedented and total unique global situation will be felt for years to come. For how long, no one really knows, no one has the answer yet. Rational thought has been overtaken by the wholly irrational thought as hearsay is spun as fact on social media and, here in Britain at least, spin is leaked to journalists before the Government officially announces its next tottering steps.
As 2019 drew to a close, the World Health Organisation was made aware of a cluster of cases within Wuhan, the capital city of China’s Central Province Hubei which shared some similarities with influenza or pneumonia-like virus. Within just two days, travellers were being tested for symptoms and within a week, the Chinese authorities had identified the virus as Coronavirus.
Quickly cases spread outside of China, the first fatalities were reported within a fortnight and now, in the third week of March, billions of people globally are facing “lockdowns”, travel restrictions, panic buying and financial meltdown as the struggle to combat the pandemic falters.
As yet, here in Britain, we’ve yet to see any firm implementation of a total Italian style “lockdown” and, for the time being at least, engaging with open space is still being actively encouraged at senior levels of Government, as long as necessary precautions are employed.
For all of us who thrive, both physically and mentally, on cherished birdwatching time there are currently any number of ways to still make the most of the freedom we crave. It’s almost a “life goes on as normal” routine when you’re in the field. But the changes are coming and they are coming quickly.
In recent days, many birding groups across the country have postponed or cancelled both indoor and outdoor events as its become ever-more apparent that the very best way to avoid contracting or spreading Covid-19 is to become isolated, to one degree or another.
Conservation organisations within the Wildlife Trust umbrella, along with the RSPB and others, have taken some tough decisions within the last few days to close not only their financially lucrative visitor centres but also many hides within their reserves too. This, of course, makes perfect sense in the current climate of uncertainty, the desire to try and ensure that the risk of contact with a potential carrier of Covid-19 is kept to a minimum has become paramount.
Whether birders should modify their individual and collective behaviour is the topic of much discussion across social media. There are many viewpoints and this isn’t the article to debate those as it would take all night, most of tomorrow and the following night too to get anywhere with it and the disagreements will rage on anyway.
But what are the options to those who find themselves in situations they may not have encountered before now.
Well, let’s have a think…
Window Birding
For those who are unfortunate enough to contract Covid-19, self isolation is an automatic requirement, for at least two to three weeks. That would be torture for so many birdwatchers, but the first port of call for those who find themselves in that unforeseen and unfortunate situation is to bird from your window in earnest.
Over the last 30 years or so of living in Cley, at the back end of the village (not the front bit overlooking the marsh), I have had a couple of brutal bouts of influenza and, more recently one awful gastric bug that knocked me out for almost a month (*note to self, don’t pick up manky bits of dead Bonxies and Arctic Terns on Shetland…).
When I began to recover form all those health events but still didn’t have the wherewithal to venture outside, I sought solace in hours of window-watching. Birding from the window I found to be incredibly therapeutic as I nursed myself back to wellness. It really is so straightforward and so easy to do and, as so many birders can’t help but be drawn to a list, it is remarkable at just how quickly you might begin to establish your own “local patch” list from the various windows around your house.
Living on the edge of a famous birding village, in a terrific part of the country gives me an instant bonus I know that; depending on the time of year, the chance of something slightly more out-of-the-ordinary than suburban or urban birders may encounter can be that much higher (although the assorted flyways across the UK pass through and over many of our great cities and conurbations and one or two hours spent glancing at the Rare Bird Alert database will confirm just how many fine birds, some of them very rare indeed have been recorded from built-up areas).
My favoured window here, one I staked out in those ‘flu and gastric days looks due south towards the Glaven Valley (generally hidden by St. Margaret’s Church) and inland towards the Bayfield Estate, Hammer Hills and off towards the Cley-Holt road. Ahead of writing this (in mid-March) I spent an hour gazing out from the front room, remaining in place in the red office chair, the one concession being a window being slightly ajar so as to log anything that maybe calling or singing close by. I’d forgotten how interesting it could be. Despite the murk, the drizzle and low cloud, it didn’t take long to see three raptor species (on a nicer day, Red Kite would have been a shoe-in fourth), hear the first singing Chiffchaff along the lane this spring, see a number of Meadow Pipits and Chaffinches trek west into the gloom, as a couple of Grey Herons and a Little Egret made their respective ways to the damp meadows of the valley.
Productive for sure, but quite how long my enjoyment and tolerance of being encased within four walls would last is anyone’s guess but connecting with the outside, even in self-isolation, seems like a vital piece of cognitive therapy. Birdwatchers are nothing if not resourceful and there will be untold ingenious ideas cropping up as bored, self-isolating birdwatchers devise new ways to make 14 days of confinement pass by as swiftly as they possibly can.
In Italy, #BWKM0 has been trending amongst the country’s widespread birding community as spirits are kept high and the enforced isolation of millions of people means that zero kilometere birding is the only outlet. Gardens, balconies, windows all utilised as our Italian birding friends dig in to “lockdown”. If it comes to us, let’s hope the same spirit captures our large birding community too.
Leading the way here, the ever resourceful @YOLOBirder has developed a brilliant (and bonkers) bit of fun ~ a Fantasy Birding online event for isolated birders. Go to the Twitter feed ~ its taking off and it could be a brilliant release valve as and when we get shut down. Some of the folk who’ve joined in are already letting their imaginations run wild. If it makes you bird from the window or out in the garden and it makes you smile and relives the boredom and stress, then it is, undoubtedly, a win/win for all those taking part.
The Crex & Ducks & Rook’n’Roller pin badge will rapidly become as sought after as the fabled Blue Peter badge at this rate…
Patch Birding
Once again, I’ll pop the caveat in here, right from the get-go; that being that I’m incredibly lucky to live within the famous 10km square of Cley. Anyone who lives in a rural environment should consider themselves exceptionally fortunate as, for the time being at least, there are no draconian rules and regulations in place to prevent us engaging with our countryside (compare Covid-19 2020 with the virtual closedown of the whole rural environment during the fearsome outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease that shutdown every corner of the green space we held so dear in 2001).
There’s no doubt that it pays to be prepared to become exploratorial. Over the years, I have turned much of my day-to-day focus away from the always busy Cley reserve. Many years ago I chose to be an isolationist-birder. I have developed many different routes through the confines of the 10 km square. Footpaths abound and I make use of them all. If you are lucky enough to be in a rural environment, it becomes a thoroughly enjoyable process to figure out where the most productive “new” areas maybe. Take a step away from the norm and see if you can find a new area to test you skills.
I did the same when I was growing in west Devon, never a hotbed of unusual avian activity bar the occasional Hoopoe or a couple of late Yellow-browed Warblers. I employed the same tactics here at Cley as I did in Devon. Work out the best looking spots, away from the roads, off the beaten track and get in amongst it and explore. In Norfolk, I quickly worked out the primary flight-lines of raptors (and Cranes too) as well as VizMig passerines. In Devon, quite by chance, I did the same (minus the Grus…). When you crack a code, however small it seems, it’s a mini-triumph. Undoubtedly you feel good. And right now, that feel-good factor is paramount.
Perhaps the most important thing to remember, be it in the back of the north Norfolk coastal countryside (surprisingly to many, a relatively quiet few square miles) or in any suburban or urban location, is “keep it relative”. I have gained huge amounts of pleasure at finding all my own Ring Ouzels “out the back” across the last decade and a half, far more than I have from travelling to see one. I make a point of actually not doing that. The same goes for, as a for instance, spring arrivals, the first Wheatears (I’ll find them), Swallow (I’ll find them too) maybe even species like Black Redstarts (ditto; funnily enough I’ve found several of them “window-listing” in the past five or six years) and whatever else may be moving. I’m not trying to dent the fun of the annual “1st of the year” thing, I’m just trying to see things at a slightly angle.
The overwhelming joy of patchworking is the surprise element. It really isn’t the rarity value, it’s the “well, that’s a cracker for here” moment that makes the most impact. A couple of years ago, I was wandering the very southern edge of the square and heard a series of calls that seemed wholly out of place for open farmland, garnished by the fulsome hedgerows and verdant woodlands nearby ~ a bubbling, slightly rolling, drawn-out squeak. And there was more than one of them coming too. Soon my ears drew my eyes to the sound, an early May flock of 7 Red Knot were flying over. I was ecstatic! What a bird for the back end of the square. I was thrilled, genuinely happy, to see such an out of context species, slightly surreal against the backdrop of pigfields, flint quarry and pine trees.
I’m sure that the few local birders that look around Cley on a daily basis will miss their evenings in the hides, looking through the gulls and, (for me, the godwits). Routines can be hard to break, as lost sheep drift from one car park to another, chatting to others, a metre and a half apart…
People will have to try and be inventive in their birding. Be brave and be adventurous if at all possible. This is the perfect time to break the habits that are part and parcel of everyday birding life.
It doesn’t have to be about Cley or Spurn, Portland or Dungeness, Minsmere or Titchwell. What it is all about is trying to establish that new zest for a patch, urban or rural, town or country, and finding the motivation to formulate a plan as to just how to garner the most from the site that you choose.
When that “Knot moment” comes along, it will make your efforts so much sweeter.
Mark Golley
20 March 2020
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