Tag: prey

#365daysofbiking Ready to strike

August 22nd – I got just two photos today, before the camera I’d absent-mindedly not charged for days went flat. Both were of this splendid heron, totally aware of me but studiously ignoring my presence, at least while breakfast was in prospect.

As herons often do, it pondered in the striking pose for some time: Alert, taut, ready. Then, either it’s prey swan away, or it just decided not to bother. The bird visibly relaxed, remembered I was there, cast me a contemptuous glance and flew off.

I know of few birds as oddly human in their habits as Herons are.

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June 11th – On a post repair test ride, bad news.

The Watermead swan family are now down to five from the original six. The remaining cygnets looked healthy and well though.

Most likely the victim of a hungry fox, it’s normal to lose a cygnet or two to predators in every urban clutch – we’ve been lucky in recent years to be relatively unscathed, but one has to remember the prodigious clutch sizes of these birds and consider that maybe some population control is natural.

When the youngsters start ground roosting separately as opposed to in a protective huddle, they are easy prey to Reynard and hopeful, the loss has been a warning to the remaining five.

Sad, so very sad – but it’s nature, red in tooth and claw.

April 11th – I spotted him near the Bentley Mill Way Aqueduct, perched in a tree. I haven’t seen many herons of late, so it was nice to see this neat, healthy looking specimen looking for a meal. This was very near where the swans are currently nesting and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was hoping to bag a cygnet for lunch.

As is usual with these wonderful birds, I scared him and he flew 30 metres or so down the canal, landing well away from me.

I love these wonderful, eccentric-seeming birds.

May 13th – The Walsall Canal swans at Pleck had hatchlings when I passed them midday; I was very pleased to count four, and I suspected she was hatching more. The cob patrolled on the open water, and the scene was tranquil.

I returned the same way that evening on my way home, to find a drama unfolding. An elderly heron was perched on the rear rail, his beady eye making unfailing eye contact with the cob, who was perched on the nest with his mate. There was clearly deadlock – the heron obviously had spotted an opportunity, but the swans were having none of it.

In a couple of days when grown, they’ll be safe from the herons and other predators, but it’ll be a tense few days for mum and dad as they guard their precious charges.

Nature, red in tooth and claw.

September 17th – Recently on Facebook there was some concern over a swan that was found dead in Pelsall. The bird had been decapitated, and many were accusing vandals. The truth is less controversial, but sadly a little more gory.

The swan was, in all probability, killed by a fox. Anyone who’s seen the aftermath of a fox in a henhouse will know that Reynard goes for the neck.

At this time of year, this year’s cubs are driven out of the den by their parents to seek their own territories – that’s why we often see foxes sleeping on roofs and in quiet but open spots in late summer. Quite frankly, these canines are homeless.

The young, inexperienced adolescents are forced to fend for themselves – that includes finding food – and many will attempt kills that are well above them. So it probably was with the Pelsall swan.

Swans are not bright birds. As I came home along the canal, I spotted this usually aggressive lone bird fast asleep, drifting on the water. It had floated into the bank around the overflow, at Clayhanger Bridge, and the thicket nearby is usually host to a den of Brer Fox.

It would be fairly trivial for the fox to sneak up to the bird unseen, and go straight for the neck, which is about the only bit the fox can attack without the risk of being ferociously pecked. The kill, to an experienced fox, would be fast and efficient and lead to food for a week or more.

The fox that attacked the Pelsall bird was probably scared off, or attacked by other swans roused by the commotion, leaving their kill behind.

I couldn’t knowingly leave this swan to a similar fate, so after taking a few pictures, I gently woke it by speaking. I was greeted by wing-flapping, honking and hissing, and the white bird swam away from me.

Job done.