November floods lure seabirds

Although the recent North Sea surge spared coastal communities, it did break through the sea defences near Salthouse, bringing flooding to the marshes west of Kelling. It was quite a sight to see this new expanse of water stretching away from the east bank at Cley. Sodden paths, now free from surface water, were covered with hundreds of worms, presumably killed by the saline conditions. A large pike lay dying on the edge of the one the drains and a tide-line of vegetation revealed the level achieved by the now subsiding waters.

This new waterscape appeared calm; sheltered from the northerly winds by the shingle bank, many waders and wildfowl took advantage of the new feeding opportunities. Small groups of brent geese, teal and wigeon, mixed with curlew, redshank and a solitary ruff. Many were feeding within feet of the coast road, providing good viewing for those brave enough to venture out under such threatening skies. One of the birds feeding in a newly formed roadside pool caught our eye as we followed the road east; a small pale grey and white wader, feeding in the water with a buoyant, almost clockwork, manner. This was a grey phalarope, a dainty bird which has been wonderfully misnamed. The species should be celebrated for the vibrant terracotta finery displayed during its short northerly breeding season and not the drab grey of its winter plumage.

The phalarope was picking tiny insects from the surface of the floodwater, moving forward and then rotating from side to side with the smooth transition of a mechanical toy on the top of a childhood music box. Each movement was so delicate that I found it hard to comprehend that this diminutive bird would spend the winter far out at sea, feeding in the waters off West Africa. That it was here, on the North Norfolk coast, was a result of the storms that had also pushed other seabirds close inshore. The phalarope would have been on its autumn migration, a very protracted affair given that the females may leave their breeding grounds in Iceland, Greenland and North America as early as mid-July. The males follow a few weeks later, once their dutiful role as single parent is complete. This was an adult, the plain grey back and wings showing no sign of the darker feathers that would signal a young bird. By now a crowd of birdwatchers had gathered to take in this aquatic ballet, the feeding phalarope occasionally rising into the air when spooked by other birds but always dropping back down into the same section of pool. The storms had provided it with a good feeding opportunity and given us a real treat.