February 2013.

1-4 February. Hackett Takes a Dip

Veteran of trips to the Baltics, it was time for British digiscoper Paul Hackett  to pay another trip, the quest being to see and photograph seven species of woodpecker over a single weekend, the most desired being Three-toed Woodpecker.

Mid-winter in Lithuania is often an unforgiving climate, temperatures plunging to minus 20 and below, snows sometimes drifting to depths that hinder woodland strolls.  Indeed, a week prior to our intrepid visitor’s visit, the temperatures were just that and a fair blanket of snow carpeted all. By arrival however, conditions were almost pleasant, a mere degree or two below freezing. 

Day One

And so he arrived, a late Friday afternoon touchdown at Vilnius airport, insufficient time to hit the forests, but enough to take a quick trip out to my garden – chirping Tree Sparrows, a churr of Crested Tits, Marsh Tits flitting in and out, one Willow Tit too, the birds to welcome Paul in.

Day Two

Seven species of woodpecker would normally be no mean feat, few localities in the country guaranteeing even five, let alone seven. And as for Three-toed Woodpecker, it is truly a species difficult to locate in the southern Baltics, localities few and far between. However, through careful management of habitat, restriction of general access and the provision of an active feeding station, I am fortunate indeed an absolute bonanza of woodpeckers on my land, the numbers and variety of which have steadily increased over the years. A total of eight species occur, six of which are resident and visit my feeding station, one of which (Wryneck) is a summer visitor and one (Three-toed Woodpecker) is a rare winter visitor. The latter species is the real jewel, with single males wintering on three occasions, fortunately including this year.

Under a sky promising more of the white stuff, dawn saw us arriving on my land, a kilometre or so of snow separating us from the potential awards waiting. Turfed Paul out of the car to get a little extra clearance, then after a few failed runs at the snow, got the car moving and ploughed all the way to the forest, a few uncomfortable moments as I bounced through small drifts collecting in furrows created by Wild Boars. Parked up and waited the arrival of Paul, his trudging figure marching through the snow. And then to my cabin to stoke up the heating, top up the feeders outside and settle down for the treats to follow. 

Ravens gronking overhead, Great Tits and Blue Tits buzzing about, Marsh Tits dropping to the table to snatch sunflower seeds, Paul was in his element before even the stars of the show were to appear. And then the desired woodpeckers began to descend – Great Spotted Woodpeckers onto some feeders, smart White-backed Woodpeckers onto others, an occasional Middle Spotted Woodpecker edging down to a peanut feeder just adjacent. With a screen dropped down the veranda of the cabin, a photo hide was immediately created, the birds frequently too close for Paul. Over the next hour or so, it was a near constant squabble of White-backed Woodpeckers and Jays, Great Spots pushing them off, birds flitting from feeder to feeder. Engaging Bank Voles scrambled up onto snow-decked logs to share in the sunflower seeds, a Treecreeper scurried up trunks for dropped titbits, a Nuthatch called adjacent. Grey-headed Woodpecker joined the fray, a male swooping in to land above a feeder, a careful perusal of the landscape thereafter followed by a cautious approach to a middle distance feeder.

After a while, with Paul undoubtedly having filled quite an amount of memory card, I suggested a stroll to seek out additional species of woodpecker – a simple case of walking across frozen flood forest to favoured areas for the relevant species. Beneath our feet, 30 cm of snow, hopefully 20 cm of ice, then about one to two metres of water. Following the tap tap taps that echoed from various quarters, the tones and patterns identifying the species, we were soon looking at additional White-backed Woodpeckers and then a male Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. Ahead, the sound of a hammer drill was smashing into a rotting alder, the culprit one of my two wintering Black Woodpeckers. We spotted the bird, low down on a trunk, quite intent on extracting lunch. A few photographs and then I wandered on, leaving Paul to savour the bird. Ahead, I could hear a quiet steady tap tap tap, often the identifier of my Three-toed Woodpecker. A glance back and I could see Paul edging towards a Beaver lodge, the Black Woodpecker just beyond.  I walked onward, a White-backed Woodpecker on an alder, a Middle Spotted Woodpecker on oaks nearby, a tap tap tap continued ahead, almost certainly the Three-toed Woodpecker I thought, the bird somewhere just beyond an area of reeds. 

Then I heard a low wail, ‘Jos, Jos!’ echoing through the trees!  Oo, it was Paul calling, I guessed he had found a bird of interest, maybe even a Pygmy Owl. I backtracked and found him standing under trees looking most forlorn, dripping from chest down, sadly trying to shake water and ice from assorted optics and cameras!!! Jeepers, he had gone through the ice! A metre from the Beaver lodge, a suspicious looking hole gaped in the ice, a gash of blackish water bobbing with ice. “Ah”, I said, clearly a little late, “it is better to avoid that exact spot, the ice is often thinner there”. One second, Paul had been feasting his eyes on a Black Woodpecker, the next second he, tripod and optics were plunging downwards to a cod wet resting place, water lapping at his chest, a no doubt surprised expression on the face that peeked out from the ice hole. Pity he didn’t shout from there, that would have a classic photo indeed! Instead, he had struggled to get out, unable to clamber onto the slippery ice until he finally looped the tripod around a nearby tree and hauled himself free. 
Back to the cabin we hurried and slammed the heater onto full. Water steamed off Paul, the dripping clothes creating pools on my floor. Soggy banknotes strategically  laid out in front of the fire, then an assessment of equipment - his phone was a write-off, at least one camera was looking much the same, various optics had misted up and all was looking a little sad. 

Fortunately, we a spare pair of clothes in my car, boots too, so a half hour later or so, we were ready for birding again. Limping one of the cameras back into action, the day thereafter concluded with another hour at the feeders – a male and female Grey-headed Woodpeckers hogging the feeders, an assortment of others providing plenty of added entertainment.

It began to snow, the light flurries slowly evolving into a much heavier deal. We departed and drove a few kilometres to a country hotel, a well-deserved supper following, end of day one, six species of woodpecker on the list, Three-toed Woodpecker thwarted by unplanned dips in water. Outside, the snow was becoming ever heavier, a near blizzard now transforming the landscape.

Day Three

A bucketload of snow overnight, access onto my land required some creative driving, pretty much ram raiding into the snow, minus the theft! Feeders were absolutely buzzing, the extra layer of snow giving that added little push to the local birds, Marsh and Willow Tits landing to within a metre, ranks of woodpeckers already gathering for the day's action.

First job was to analyse action on the trip cam left overnight – a few oos and arrs at the cracking Pine Marten hogging the bait (video viewable HERE), a pretty impressive Raven joining the action at dawn.

Then, after a little session with White-backed Woodpeckers bouncing off the feeders and Middle Spots in and out, I suggested another wander across the ice … a Three-toed Woodpecker was still lurking out yonder, what further incentive is required. So off we plodded, listening to gentle creaks in the ice (air temperatures were a mere pathetic degree or two below freezing). Black Woodpecker duly appeared. A cautious Paul got some snaps.

"Hmm, hey look at that hole by the Beaver lodge, some idiot must have fallen in!"

We sneaked in to photograph the fateful spot, then struck on to search out our quarry. No Three-toed Woodpecker in its favoured areas, so I zigzagged a little further to an area I rarely visit – lair of the dodgy ice I term it, a spring emerges in that area.

A careful stomp across to the far reaches of my land followed, another Black Woodpecker bashing the smithereens out of a stump low in reeds, then a White-backed Woodpecker again. Almost at the point of turning back, a quietish tap tap tap floated across from a birch. I almost ignored it. Fortunately, we decided to check it out … there he was, my Mr Three-toed Woodpecker tapping away to his heart content. Paul was struggling with optics still screaming complaints regarding their cold plunge through the ice, but a few photographs he got. And then a White-backed Woodpecker zipped over, a red flag to the Three-toed Woodpecker, up he went and set off in persuit, the two zooming round in a big arc, eventually vanishing beyong reeds into another area of the forest.

Well that was nice. 'Let's go back this way', I suggested, 'I want to check out one tree'. As we cut through a patch of reeds, I mentioned that the ice is somewhat questionable in this area too. Paul requested a backtrack. 'Na' said I, 'the water is shallow here anyhow'. Got to a tricky patch of clambering through broken branches and buckled reeds. Crash, bugger, my feet were wet! I looked back at Paul. Crash, eek, his feet were wet too!

Oops. At the tree I wished to check, not a sausage to compensate the second dip in two days, but hey, at least I got a photo of Paul suffering this time!

The rest of the day passed most uneventfully, sedate photography from the cabin, no less than three Bank Voles feeding under the feeders, a bevy of woodpeckers to keep the spirits up.

End of day two, seven woodpecker species under the belt, two unplanned splashes into the water by Paul, one phone dead, one camera comatose, various optics misting something chronic.