Green Woodpecker

Reprint of an article that appeared in the Summer 2011 Edition of Common Ground.

By Bettina Cassidy.

I’ve been threatening the Editor with crows for quite some time, but so far I’ve been dissuaded on the grounds that they’re black, and not very interesting to colour in. In the quest to escape crows for yet another issue, I was taken for a walk on the Common to investigate possible alternatives. “Have you done woodpeckers yet?” he asked hopefully. “I’ve done Great Spotted; you don’t get the green ones here,” I confidently replied. No sooner had the words left my lips, than that unmistakeable mocking laugh rang out from the trees – right on cue!

Green woodpeckers are one of those species which are more likely to be heard and not seen. A pity, because there are few birds which could claim to match them in the beauty stakes – if you spy an exotic-looking bird and think someone’s pet parrot’s escaped, chances are it’s a green woodpecker. Whoever coined the phrase “red and green should never be seen,” obviously wasn’t much of an ornithologist.

Unlike all the other woodpecker species, the Green Woodpecker won’t be heard drumming on a tree trunk, because he has a comparatively weak beak. He prefers to stay on the ground, stabbing his beak into an anthill, and if you want to find him on the Common, you’ll be most likely to spot him lurking around the anthills near Wellington Rocks. But not for long – you’re only likely to catch a brief glimpse of his bright yellow rump, swooping for cover into a tree in his characteristic undulating fashion.

Our fascination with the woodpecker goes back a long way, it’s said that a woodpecker ruled the world until Zeus took the sceptre from him. Picus – its Latin name – was the ancient god of fertility. In Britain, he has a strong association with our ancient orchards, which is why Bulmer’s used his image for their famous cider after it.

Another of our celebrity Green Woodpeckers is, of course, the wonderful Professor Yaffle from Bagpuss. Yaffle is in fact the woodpecker’s old English folk name, an onomatopoeic reference to its laughing call. There have been recorded no fewer than 400 Olde English names for the woodpecker, but few have survived down the ages. Some people, however, will still use the term “rainbird”, stemming from their supposed ability to bring on rain. This alleged talent is not just limited to our British birds, as the French name Pluie-pluie-pluie would suggest.

Birding Journal – Redwing

Latin name: Turdus Iliacus
Size: Slightly littler than a song thrush
Sound: High, thin seesee

The heavy snow we’ve experienced has forced many birds who normally would be too shy to show themselves to be a bit bolder in their quest for food. The bad news is that this puts them at greater risk from predators, but the good news for birdwatchers is that it’s been bonanza season, with many of us seizing the opportunity to spot some usually tricky species with increased ease. Even Bitterns have been reported spotted out in the open, which is usually unheard of. Sadly I can’t report that I’ve seen anything that rare on the common, but I have seen an unusual amount of usually timid redwings. I’m sure if you’re familiar with this bird you’ll agree that this is a pleasant treat.

The redwing is a regular winter visitor to the common. They fly in from Scandinavia – few pairs actually breed in the UK. They are the smallest and – give or take a fieldfare or two – prettiest of the thrush family. The first time we saw one scrabbling around in the undergrowth my husband did indeed think it was a song thrush, but a flash of it’s chestnut-red underwing and beautiful yellow striped eye showed that this was something rather more special.

A good place to see them is the grass outside the front of the Spa Hotel where you can see gangs of them feeding on the ground. First time I saw them there, there were so many of them, and their behaviour so uncharacteristically bold, that for a split second I thought I was looking at a flock of starlings.

As long as we keep them well fed during these bleaker days, 2010 should prove to be a great year for our birds. The cold snap is good for killing off viruses and Spring shouldn’t come too early this year, so we’re hopefully back to “proper” seasons, with birds being born at the right time, rather than being lured into the world early with nothing suitable to eat. So make sure whilst we’re in this cold snap, to dangle those fat balls with gay abandon!

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Birding Journal – Tawny Owl

Latin name: Strix aluco
Size: Large and chunky
Sound: Classic owl twit-twoo/hoo hoo-o-o

As I mentioned in a previous column, ornithology is as much about using your ears as your eyes, and in order to illustrate this, I’m going to talk about a bird which I have in fact never seen on the Common, despite many desperate hours spent scanning the trees, hunting the ground for pellets, or the tell-tale mobbing of overhead passerines. Knowing my luck, I’ve probably been staring right at him, but his mottled feathers provide such a masterful disguise that I probably thought he was a piece of bark. But I do know for certain that the Tawny Owl does inhabit the Common, because on a still night I can his twit-twoos ringing out. Or his twitting, to be more precise: his prospective squeeze provides the twoos to his twits.

I know for sure that the owl I hear is a Tawny Owl, because all other owls are strictly screechers. His flat, satellite dish of a face has black eyes which signify that he’s a night hunter rather than an amber-eyed day hunter. If our eye-to-face ratio was the same as a Tawny Owl, we’d have eyes the size of grapefruits! He has a pair of assymetrical ears which aid in directional hearing, and believe it or not, he’s a relatively teeny bird under all that luxurious upholstery. His abundant feathers are soft and round-tipped rather than streamlined like most birds, as this is a creature of stealth rather than speed.

The various myths surrounding owls are fascinating, but sadly seldom true. For one thing, the myth of the wise old owl is just that – apparently they are the least intelligent bird species. And all birds, not just the owl, can rotate their heads 360degrees; but because the owl is unable to move his eyeballs in their sockets, and he has his eyes on the front of his head rather than the side, he’s the only one who needs to do this. And is the owl really a harbinger of doom? I don’t think so – I’d feel very lucky if I managed to see one!

Owls have suffered greatly due to their sinister reputation, and numbers have declined due to persecution, coupled with that old chestnut of loss of habitat. Interestingly, the Tawny Owl is the one species whose numbers have not been affected, partly due to his catholic tastes in food, which adapt to any environment change accordingly. Frogs, fish, rodents, stoats, bats, birds, even smaller members of the owl family would make a very nice meal. But the main reason for his success is, of course, simply that he’s so hard to spot. And I can vouch for that!

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