Purple Sandpipers

We used to see Purple Sandpipers regularly at Troon on the Ballast Bank, our main place for the species, back in the day before the invasion by the Troon Tadpoles. Backwoodsman had taken a few pictures there but was stranded short of enough material for a post, and had begun to despair of seeing these pretty little waders again. The odd bird would turn up at Stevenston or Saltcoats but they were always distant. For example, this shot is a long range effort taken at Stevenston Point; the size contrast with the Redshank is quite striking.

A recent trip solved the problem. On a Saturday in mid-April, we had taken an early train from Glasgow Central to Gourock and boarded the ferry to Dunoon. It was a brilliant morning, and flat calm. The crew member collecting fares took note of the camera and spoke of dolphins on the inbound voyage. Backwoodsman scanned the middle distance; there were no cetaceans to be seen but small groups of Guillemots were flying low across the water, heading east and further into the mouth of the Clyde. This is a long-range shot made more difficult by the speed of the vessel in one direction and the birds in the other.

The vessel docked, the handful of passengers disembarked, and a larger group of gaudily-clad racegoers heading for the Scottish Grand National in Ayr boarded the empty vessel.  We looked around the pier, initially hearing, and then seeing Black Guillemots courting.

We enjoyed watching the birds for a while before heading north east along the Esplanade into Kirn. Familiar sounds made their way to us across the water, the “yah-roo!”calls of displaying Eiders. We usual hear this call from a distance but it is even more pleasing at close quarters.  Backwoodsman had recorded this video at WWT Martin Mere on the recent visit and was wondering if it would ever be useful for anything – here are some loud Eider calls.

The group of Dunoon birds came in quite close – they were too busy courting to be upset by figures on the shore.

We could see up to ten drakes and one duck at a time; they would sail about and call, and then the whole group would dive. The colours looked vibrant in the excellent light, particularly that incongruous botanical green on the back of the neck.

Herring Gulls watched them too.

We moved along, finding Turnstones, and then, oh joy, Purple Sandpipers. It was almost high tide by now but the Purple Sands were still foraging.

Summers et al. investigated the diet of these birds. At high tide, they feed on Kelp Fly up in banks of drying weed, and eat small shellfish when the water is lower and more of the shore accessible. Females have longer bills which allow them to take larger shellfish, Summers et al. referring to this as sexual size dimorphism.

According to the BTO, Purple Sandpipers do not breed regularly in the UK; their data for 2013-2017 has one pair breeding in northern Scotland, with of the order of ten thousand birds spending the winter with us.

Summers et al. also studied Purple Sandpiper migration making use of tracking devices. This seemed interesting:

“Purple Sandpipers winter at relatively high latitudes compared to other waders. It is suspected that the majority that winter in Britain and Ireland originate from Canada, but there is no primary evidence of their breeding grounds and migratory routes. These birds, characterised by their long bills, start to arrive in Britain and Ireland in late October/early November, after completing their post-nuptial moult at an unknown location. Fifty geolocators were attached to Purple Sandpipers in northern Scotland and southwest Ireland and we established for the first time their Canadian origin (Baffin Island and Devon Island), migration routes and post-nuptial moulting areas. Spring departure from Scotland and Ireland took place mainly in late May, followed by staging in Iceland and/or southwest Greenland before reaching the breeding grounds. Those that staged in Iceland departed earlier than those that flew directly to Greenland. Post-nuptial moulting areas were in southern Baffin Island, northern Quebec/Labrador (the Hudson Strait), and southwest Greenland. Migration from Baffin Island and Labrador took place during late October – early November, and during mid to late December from Greenland, usually in a single trans-Atlantic flight. Therefore, this migration was scheduled at a time when most other wader species are already on their wintering grounds. No birds staged in Iceland on the return trip. The flight from Baffin Island to Scotland and Ireland was accomplished in about 2.5 days at an average speed of about 1400 km per day. Freezing of coastal waters may be the reason for the eventual departure from the Hudson Strait. The more northerly route via Iceland, taken in spring by most birds, and the more southerly route in early winter were associated with seasonal shifts in the Atlantic low pressure systems (depressions) whose anti-clockwise wind-flows would have assisted flights.”

This material comes from an open access journal and the title page features a charming pencil sketch of Purple Sandpipers on the wing.

The birds do not look remotely purple in the strong morning light but a greyer sky and lower colour temperature bring out the effect for which they are named.

This image from Troon in early May shows a bird starting to develop some chestnut colour in the plumage below the neck in preparation for the long flight north and breeding.

At the highest point in the tide in Dunoon, we found birds in repose.

The light had gone by now and we headed back to the ferry.  It had been a very enjoyable and productive morning. Perhaps there would be dolphins to see on the return trip? Alas, there were not, but the Purple Sands had delighted and now there was enough material for a post. Yah-roo!

Eiders

I’m resisting the seasonal temptation to do a post about Robins. The BBC Your pictures of Scotland page has a couple of nice Robin images and we’ve some lovely Robin cards, but I’m going to keep my stock back for a future occasion. Instead, I’d like to look back in this short post to images made in May, a warmer time of year, even on the west coast. The winter connection arises from my first sightings of Eiders or I should say, hearings. The breeding call of the male Eider, commonly rendered as yar-oooo, begins to be sounded in the winter – once heard, never forgotten.

But my best sightings and photographic opportunities have occurred in the spring and summer months when the birds are close to the shore with young. I’m posting images from Troon (May), Cardross (June) and Stevenston (June). Ducklings in general are such a worry but the Eiders seem to make very promising crèching arrangements with good numbers of adult birds around the young ones. A walk from Ardmore Point to Cardross disturbed one of these groups (four young, three females and three males) which moved smoothly away from the tideline across a mussel bed.

My shallow dives into the literature tell me that there can be conflict between commercial shellfish producers and Eiders (great consumers of mussels). I’ve one image (from Montrose) of a female about to swallow a large shelled mollusc whole. The avian gizzard is a thing of mystery and wonder.

At Troon, the family group or crèche was extremely close inshore, near the old Lido; I lay on top of the sea wall in sniper position, shooting away while the young practised their Eider repertoire. I don’t think these images require much comment from me apart from an expression of my enthusiasm for their spectacular plumage.

Both sexes are beautifully marked and I can’t think of any other species which displays that strange shade of green found on the back of the drake’s neck. I think I’ve got the colour right but I prefer a dark print because the texture in the white feathers becomes visible. The water droplets also look more interesting when the image is slightly underexposed – there is a gradient of tone across them which I like. I found some really nice images at Birdfact and I think we have the same shade of green.

The image from Stevenston seems to contain a group of females but I thought there were significant differences in the sizes of the individuals, and in the patterns of white on the wing feathers. This suggests that some of them might have been juveniles; could there have been time for a brood to have grown to such a size? Perhaps someone will put me right. It seems that male Eiders take a few years to develop their spectacular formal dress.

Eiders seem to be very well studied by ecologists – I would definitely pick something big and easy to see and count if I was interested in populations (so definitely not little brown jobs). I found Vital rate estimates for the common eider Somateria mollissima, a data-rich exemplar of the seaduck tribe and I attempted to read it only to be confounded by the statistical nature of the analysis (I failed statistics in my first year at university, just can’t do it). I was hoping it would tell me how many young Eiders need to be produced every year per breeding pair to ensure a healthy population but I couldn’t find what I was looking for, alas. Eiders are monogamous and long-lived. Once the trains start up again, I’ll be back to the seaside listening out for yar-oooo…