The Woodcock and the Goldcrest

Martin Roper

The Travelling Birder

Wildlife and Travel Photography

maroper@sky.com

www.wildlifeandtravel.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Reggie the Goldcrest....................................................................................................... 4

Chapter 2: Rusti the Woodcock....................................................................................................... 6

Chapter 3: When Reggie Met Rusti................................................................................................. 8

Chapter 4: Nebulus the Wise.......................................................................................................... 12

Chapter 5: The Journey................................................................................................................... 14

Chapter 6: The Baba Yaga................................................................................................................ 20

Chapter 7: God's Own County....................................................................................................... 24

Chapter 1 Reggie the Goldcrest.

Our journey begins 1,500 miles away, far north in the vast wilderness of the boreal taiga forest, deep in the freezing Arctic region of Finnish Lapland, near the place known as Korvatunturi fell. A wild and unspoilt land set beneath ear shaped snow-capped mountain peaks, where the grip of winter can last for seven months. Korvatunturi fell is also the home of Santa Clause, but that’s a story for another time, our story is about a Goldcrest (Regulus regulus), let's just call him Reggie.

            Reggie hatched in the fell during spring, with eight siblings and started to fledge the nest a few weeks later. The nest, high in a Norway spruce, was hidden in thick foliage and made from moss and lichens delicately woven together using spider webs that stretched to accommodate the growing brood, soft feathers lined the nest providing warmth and comfort. The fledglings mother had already left and was sitting on their second clutch of eggs nearby while their father continued providing a constant supply of spiders, moth eggs and caterpillars. After a few weeks Reggie and his siblings became fully independent, and their father left to feed his second brood of six chicks. Spring turned into summer and Reggie was almost fully grown at 9 cm tall and about 5 grams in weight, the same as a heaped teaspoon full of sugar. Some of his siblings had not been as lucky predated by a Pygmy owl after fledging. Reggie himself had narrowly escaped an attack from a Northern goshawk, and the encounter had left the Goldcrest with a damaged wing, he could fly,

but only short distances. Life in the boreal forest is difficult, and many birds wouldn’t survive the extreme winters, choosing to migrate south over the North Sea to the warmer climate of the UK. Reggie knew this was going to be a problem, flying south with a damaged wing was impossible, but staying in the boreal forest through the winter would be certain death for the little Goldcrest. Goldcrest (Regulus regulus)

Chapter 2 Rusti the Woodcock.

Our Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola), let's just call her Rusti, hatched in the forest during spring with three siblings and fledged her nest the moment she hatched, quickly becoming independent. Several months passed and Rusti, now fully grown, had a long slender bill and was covered from head to foot in camouflaged plumage. Rusti was much bigger than Reggie, in fact most birds are, she was 35 cm in length and weighed around 300 grams, 60 times the weight of a tiny Goldcrest.

Like all the other Woodcock, Rusti was nocturnal, much preferring the cover of darkness to forage the ground for earthworms, her favourite snack, she was most active at dusk and dawn. Lately this had become confusing for the Woodcock, the sun was setting later and later and now was hardly setting at all, Rusti didn’t realise it was a midnight sun which takes place at this time of year and was mixing up night with day, this eventually passed making foraging a little easier. Woodcock are specialist feeders and Rusti could easily eat her own bodyweight during the night. Using her long slender bill, she probed through the soft earth, sometimes shaking one of her legs to encourage worms to the surface. And while probing soft ground was all well and good during summer, in winter the frozen ground would become impenetrable, so like all other wading birds, Rusti would have to migrate south to find softer feeding grounds. For generations her family had crossed the North Sea to winter in the UK, but the prospect of migration was daunting for Rusti, this would be her first time out of the fell, and she didn’t know her way. Fearing she would soon become lost on her own, the apprehensive Woodcock was hoping to find some friends, willing to join her on the epic journey that lay ahead. Little did she know that fate was about to intervene. Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola)

Chapter 3 when Reggie met Rusti.

Early morning in the fell, and Reggie awoke from his overnight roost in a sturdy old Scots pine, stretching out his tiny wings he yawned, shaking uncontrollably from beak to claw before setting out to find breakfast. Reggie found a birch tree and began to hang upside down under the leaves looking for aphids, next he hovered with his beak near the tree bark, picking out several spiders. Further down the fell, Rusti had returned from a night feeding in the soft ground around a fresh water spring and was now beginning to settle down for the day underneath the nearby shrubbery.

The spring was a popular meeting place for all the animals living in the fell, to gather and drink the fresh water, unfortunately as a consequence, this attracted birds of prey who would lie in wait, ready to attack their unsuspecting quarry. Reggie was well aware of the danger, this was the place where his wing was damaged a few weeks earlier, but the need to quench his thirst was too great, and he cautiously approached the spring. The flowing water from the spring formed a small wetland area with a shallow stream, several partially submerged flat rocks were being used by a small mixed flock of Siskin and Redpoll, the birds, drinking and bathing in the clear water. Next a noisy flock of twelve Bohemian waxwings dropped down into the wetland and joined the growing number of birds drinking and bathing, the Waxwing gracefully scooped up the water in their sturdy bills and raising their head displayed their very impressive head crests in the process. This looked like a suitable place, and Reggie flew down to join them, the water gently cascaded rippling over the flat rocks as the little Goldcrest settled down and began to quench his thirst surrounded by the birds, he thought there would be safety in numbers, he was mistaken. Waxwing (Bombycilla garrulus).

Oblivious to any unfolding danger, the birds hadn’t noticed a male Sparrowhawk watching their every move like a silent assassin from under the cover of a nearby tree. The Sparrowhawk edged slowly to the end of his perch, Reggie and his newly found friends still blissfully unaware of the large raptors presence, continued drinking from the stream. Reggie, thirst quenched, was taking a refreshing bath as the Sparrowhawk made his move, swooping at speed with his claws extended. 

Reggie jumped onto a rock to shake himself dry as the raptor hit the water with a mighty splash, the birds quickly dispersed, pursued by the Sparrowhawk, Reggie shot under a nearby shrubs along with several Siskin, all this commotion woke Rusti, who had been fast asleep in the same shrubs. The Sparrowhawk tried to fish out the birds from under the thick leaves using his claws, but Reggie and the Siskin moved further under escaping the raptors' razor sharp talons. Suddenly a slender bill grabbed Reggie by the nape of his neck, guiding him gently under a large soft wing like a shepherd's crook, it was Rusti, she slowly began moving both of them to safety. The Sparrowhawk continued to fish his claws through the thick foliage until eventually his talons grabbed a Siskin which he quickly dispatched. Reggie knew he’d had a lucky escape, nature can be very cruel sometimes, but the bird of prey had four chicks of his own to feed in a nearby nest. The raptor had left to feed his chicks by the time the Woodcock lifted her wing and released the Goldcrest, this was the first time Reggie met Rusti and he owed her his life, he was very grateful. Rusti and Reggie soon became best friends and were practically inseparable, regularly meeting at first light and dusk to chat. Reggie told Rusti about the Northern goshawk that damaged his wing and Rusti told Reggie about the freezing ground in winter stopping her from finding earthworms. Between them they knew they had to come up with a plan to help them on their migration south. Summer progressed to autumn and the nights were getting colder, snow began falling in the fell and Reggie and Rusti knew that time was running out to find a solution to both their problems. Male Sparrowhawk (Accipiter nisus).

Chapter 4 Nebulus the wise.

Most evenings a wise owl would swoop from an old abandoned Ravens nest in a nearby tree and perch on a pine stump in the fell, listening for the sound of voles. His name was Nebulus and he was a Great grey owl (Strix nebulosa), like all Great grey owls, Nebulus had a large round facial disc which he used together with his acute hearing to find his prey. His hearing was so good he was able to detect the heartbeat of a mouse hiding deep under the leaf litter. Nebulus wasn’t the heaviest owl in the forest at 1 kg, but he definitely was the tallest, measuring 84 cm, ten times longer than a Goldcrest. Some of the animals in the fell would also say that Nebulus was one of the most entertaining, unless you happen to be a rodent of course.

All the birds in the fell would gather around Nebulus on his old stump and listen to the tales he told about the mystical creatures which lived in the forest. Tales about a spiritual healer, the shaman, who gave Santa Clause the formula for creating his magic dust, used on the reindeer. Rusti suggested this could help Reggie fly south, but Nebulus had told them about the elves who made Christmas tree decorations from small bird feathers and the Cuckoo which was turned into wood and imprisoned inside a clock, frightening the life out of the curious pair.

On another visit he told the story of shapeshifters that morphed into Bears and Wolves and terrorised the wildlife, followed by tales of the little people, small gnome-like creatures of mischief, dwelling in caves. Reggie would tremble with fear as Nebulus embellished his nightmarish stories, retreating to his scots pine for safety while Rusti would hide deep beneath the undergrowth until the wise owl had finished telling the attentive gathering his tale, and returned back to roost in his old Ravens nest. Great grey owl (Strix nebulosa).

Chapter 5 the Journey

Then one night Nebulus began to tell the story of the Baba Yaga, a powerful sorceress living in a cabin in the forest raised on a pair of giant bird legs surrounded by a fence of her victims bones. The Baba Yaga, feared by all intruders, was said to help the wildlife of the forest, she would cast a spell bestowing them with magical powers if she deemed them worthy, the unworthy would be instantly turned to bones, Reggie and Rusti knew this was the solution they had been looking for. Nebulus elaborated, telling the mesmerised crowd, the witch lived in the fell beyond Rock falls, Reggie knew this was going to be a long and dangerous journey, but Rusti would be by his side,  so the pair headed off to roost, deciding to start their journey to find the Baba Yaga at first light.

            The next morning Reggie woke and yawned, shook uncontrollably from beak to claw as he did most mornings, before leaving his roost. Rusti was already waiting for the little Goldcrest and the pair set off. Reggie’s plan was to start at the fresh water spring in the fell, he knew that the spring became a stream, and the stream would become a river, and the river would lead them eventually to Rock falls. Following the stream and only stopping occasionally for refreshments, the pair continued until dark. Rusti settled for the night under a carpet of moss and Reggie found a Scots pine tucking himself deep inside the stiff needles.

A pack of Wolves were howling in the distance as the sky began to light up in vivid colours, it was the aurora borealis and Reggie was amazed, he’d never seen anything like it, then he remembered the story of the Fox’s fire Nebulus had told them, about an Arctic fox who brushed his tail against rocks and bushes running through the mountains sending sparks into the night sky, and Reggie drifted off under the northern Lights. 

The next morning Rusti was woken by the noise rustling of leaf litter and came face to face with a voracious Wolverine, the carnivore was foraging in the undergrowth, using his large paws and impressive claws to dig for carrion. Rusti wasn’t taking any chances and flew off, landing a safe distance away, while Reggie, woken by all the commotion, remained still and quiet, he knew that Wolverines are partial to bird eggs and birds for that matter, they’re really not that fussy when it comes to scavenging. After several more minutes of foraging the Wolverines keen sense of smell picked up the scent of a decaying Elk carcass and took off to find it, Rusti returned to Reggie and the pair sighed with relief, before continuing their quest, heading deeper inside the boreal forest.  Wolverine (Gulu gulu).

By now the stream was wider and a little faster flowing, but not quite the river they were looking for. A Black woodpecker called out from the trees as Red crossbills dropped down from the canopy to drink the water followed by Brambling and a pair of Grosbeak. Reggie and Rusti kept a safe distance away after their recent altercation with the male Sparrowhawk by the spring.

The pair continued until darkness fell once more, pausing their adventure, they both found a spot to roost for the night and settled down. Sometime later Reggie was disturbed by a Flying squirrel rooting in the canopy above him. The nocturnal Flying squirrel was hunting for fungi and seeds but would prey on a small bird such as a Goldcrest if given the chance. The foraging was getting closer and Reggie braced himself as the omnivore leaped out from the trees, spread out his wing-like membrane and started gliding towards him, when out of nowhere the Squirrel was snatched in mid-air by an adult Eagle owl, the most feared bird in the whole of the boreal forest, Reggie stayed quiet, he knew the owl was too big and powerful to be tempted by a tiny morsel such as a Goldcrest, nevertheless he wasn’t going to test his theory, but Woodcock on the other hand, was a different proposition altogether and Rusti remained silent until the huge Eagle owl, now on the ground and close to Rusti, took off with the Flying squirrel in its talons. Eagle owl (Bubu bubu).  

Early morning birdsong woke Rusti who opened her large eyes, tilted back her head and yawned with her long slender bill agape. Reggie joined her after his usual morning routine and the birds, still shaken by last night’s Eagle owl encounter, continued on their journey. Several hours passed and the stream opened up and became a river, further downstream submerged rocks in the water formed whitewater rapids. A Raven circled above the river calling while a large Brown bear was catching fish by the shoreline. In the distance a large rock formation was surrounded by a heavy mist rising upwards from the water, and Reggie and Rusti were finally in sight of the Rock falls.

The travelling birds passed the rocky outcrop as the thundering sound of cascading water became louder and louder. High up on the rock face, Reggie could see a large cave, and above a billowing plume of smoke in the sky. Beyond Rock falls a beautiful lake had formed in the fell, and the river was gently meandering through a clearing. The weary pair paused for refreshments, taking a drink from the calmer waters when Rusti heard a whooshing sound, followed by another not quite sure what it was, the pair hastily retreated behind a boulder. This time a cracking sound, followed by a muted splashes, the pair were being attacked and the assailants were firing arrows. Rusti tucked Reggie under her wing and slowly backed into the surrounding flora, the pair could now hear mutterings of a strange voice. It was the little people, the small mischievous goblin-like creatures of the forest which Nebulus had warned them about, and they were looking for a tasty Woodcock for their huge cooking pot, the source of the thick, acrid smoke rising from the cave. Rusti backed deeper into the foliage, accidentally drawing the little imps attention, who began to surround the undergrowth in an attempt to flush the pair out, suddenly the figure of an old lady appeared, cloaked and carrying a long staff. She pointed the staff at the assailants and a flash of light shot from the end like a bolt of thunder, followed by a cloud of smoke. The smoke cleared and all that remained of the little people was a pile of bones, the old lady was the Baba Yaga. Brown bear (Ursus arctos).

Chapter 6 The Baba Yaga.

The Baba Yaga collected the skulls of the little people in a large hessian sack, Reggie and Rusti, stunned by what they’d just seen, stayed quiet. Slinging the sack of skulls over her shoulder and using her long staff for balance, the Baba Yaga gestured to the frightened birds to follow her and started to walk through the fell. Reggie and Rusti obliged, following closely behind the sorceress until they reached her cabin in the forest surrounded by a fence of skulls, the door slowly creaked open and the witch, the Goldcrest and the Woodcock entered before the door banged loudly shut.

A dim candle lit the cabin while an open fire provided welcome heat from the biting cold as night began to fall in the forest. The Baba Yaga rocked back and forth in her rickety old chair rubbing her hands together for warmth as she listened to the Goldcrest tell his story. Next it was the turn of the Woodcock to tell the Baba Yaga her story while the witch, still rubbing her hands and rocking on her chair, listened attentively. Reggie and Rusti were sure that a magic spell from the witch would solve their problems, but the Baba Yaga wasn’t convinced and abruptly stopped rocking on her chair and started cackling. Reggie and Rusti huddled together, shaking from the fear of being turned to bones. The sorceress banged her staff on the floor and a bright flash lit the cabin, frozen with fear the birds thought they had been incinerated, but as the smoke cleared, Rusti was wearing a leather saddle and Reggie was wearing goggles and a leather flying helmet. Baba Yaga explained “you don’t need magic, you just need each other”. Reggie knew his way but wasn’t strong enough, Rusti was strong enough but didn’t know the way, working together they both had the strength and knowledge to migrate south for the winter. The Baba Yaga.

Reggie and Rusti joined the Baba Yaga laughing and dancing, happy she had solved their quandary and even happier they had not been turned into bones. The little Goldcrest was going to pilot the Woodcock all the way south to overwinter in the UK and the two birds stayed up all night making plans for their migration. The next morning at first light Reggie climbed on Rusti’s back and the pair took off for home. Rusti was soon soaring high above the forest canopy and the pair of intrepid travellers could see the fell thanks to Reggie’s expert navigation.

Circling around, they gently landed, the amazing spectacle began drawing a large crowd, Redwing, Fieldfare and Blackbird joined, followed by Siskin, Redpoll and Brambling. Whooper swan and Mallard came along with Curlew from the wetland followed by Starling and Bohemian waxwing. Rusti jumped onto the stump used by Nebulus with Reggie still on her back and the pair started to tell the huge crowd about their adventure through the boreal forest. Nebulus opened one eye and listened from his roost in the old Ravens nest as the two birds continued telling the growing audience their tale. To their amazement all the Goldcrest were worried about crossing over the North Sea and all the Woodcock were worried they would get lost. Many of the birds in the crowd had their concerns, Rusti suggested leaving together in one huge flock and Reggie suggested flying south along the East Atlantic Flyway, like millions of birds every year, reaching the east coast of England. Reggie told the gathering that this part of England was called Yorkshire and was so beautiful it was as if the County had been created by God. All the birds agreed this would be the plan. By now it was the end of September and winter was drawing near. The birds spent the next few days preparing for their epic journey, Goldcrest paired up with Woodcock and all the birds spent as much time foraging for food as they could to build up their energy reserves for their upcoming mass migration south, taking place at dusk on the first night of October. Flying at night the Goldcrests would navigate using the night sky and the cooler temperatures would make the journey easier, they were all set. Arctic Redpoll (Acanthis hornemanni).

Chapter 7 Gods own County.

A large flock of birds gathered in the fell as dusk approached, Woodcock and Goldcrest as far as the eye could see were joined by hundreds of thrushes, finches, waxwings, waders and wildfowl. Rusti and Reggie sat on the stump used by Nebulus and looked on in awe at the sight of so many birds gathered together. Reggie hopped on Rusti, and all the other Goldcrest followed, mounting their Woodcock, and with that the birds began to take off. Wave after wave of birds passed over until eventually the night sky was clear, the stars shining ever so brightly as if to guide their path.

            Night turned to day as the avian armada flew through Scandinavia, away from the Arctic region and continued south through Europe, stopping every 500 miles or so to rest. Day turned to night and the huge flock continued, all the while Goldcrest pilots, including Reggie, were leading the way. Several days passed by the time the flock reached the North Sea and cautiously began to make their way over the vast open water. Some birds, completely exhausted, had to land on ships halfway over, while others sadly didn’t make it on their crossing and were lost in the open water. Then as dawn broke on the fourth day Reggie spotted landfall and gesturing to Rusti they began to steer the flock towards it, passing a lighthouse on a long thin peninsular they reached dry land, the birds were at a place called Kilnsea, along the Humber estuary, they had made it to the UK.

Thrushes headed for the hedgerows and bushes heavily laden with hawthorn berries while all the waders and wildfowl landed on the vast mud estuary joining the thousands of birds already there. Waxwings, being particular about their diet, split into small flocks and went looking for rowan tree berries, their favourite, and ended up at nearby Hessle, in a local supermarket car park. Rusti with Reggie the first Woodcock pilot.

All the Goldcrest pilots dismounted their Woodcock in the fields at Kilnsea, including Reggie and Rusti. The Goldcrest headed for the trees, looking for spiders, caterpillars and aphids while the Woodcock found dense moist undergrowth in the woods and began to probe for earthworms. Reggie and Rusti said goodbye to the rest of the birds, the pair had already made their mind up they were staying together through the winter, the bond between them was too strong and their journey was by no means over. The next few weeks passed quickly as they travelled inland until they reached the most beautiful woodland they had ever seen, with Scots pines, oaks, birch and thick dense leaf litter. Yorkshire truly was God's own County and the Woodcock and Goldcrest had found their idyllic home for the winter.         

Reggie settled down to roost deep in the thick needles of his sturdy Scots pine after a hectic day in the woodland, Gazing up at the clear night sky brightly lit with stars, he noticed a bright light flash across the sky, could it be the Fox’s fire, was it the Baba Yaga, he looked again and he was sure he could see the outline of Santa Clause on his sleigh passing overhead and waving with his reindeers pulling him along, but that’s a story for another time. And Reggie drifted off to sleep.

THE END