An exceptionally early nest

The run of cold days, with a bitter wind and freezing temperatures, have brought with them growing numbers of wildfowl. Along with the Tufted Duck and the first of the winter’s Goosander are dozens of Coot, all making the most of the small amount of water that remains free from ice in the corner of this old gravel pit. Out on the ice itself is a small gathering of Black-headed Gulls, accompanied by a few Common Gulls that have, perhaps, been pushed inland by the poor weather. It is a complicated picture, with individuals of many different species forced together on the tiny expanse of open water, and I take my time to count them, adding my totals to the regular notes that I keep of the birds seen on this particular site. The counting is made easier by the small electronic tally counter that I carry with me these days when I go out birdwatching. I no longer need to keep a running total in my head; all that I need to do is click the button each time I see an individual of the species I happen to be counting. Once I have worked carefully across the lake, I look at the digital screen which informs me that I have just counted 94 Coot – a fair total given the weather.

It is as I am working through my count of Canada Geese that I am distracted by a rustling in the vegetation near my feet. Pulling my head back from the telescope I look down to see a female Mallard leaving a nest of 13 eggs. I almost do a double-take – those are eggs and that is a Mallard’s nest, and that is a semi-frozen lake in the middle of January! Even by Mallard standards, this is an exceptionally early nesting attempt and one that is, given the weather conditions, almost certainly doomed to failure. Before the Mallard can reach the water I retreat in the hope that she will quickly return to her task of incubating the eggs and protecting them from the freezing temperatures. Once back by the fence I turn around; she is not on the water so must be back on the eggs, though out of sight within the dead vegetation that affords a modicum of shelter.

Returning a week later, I make a careful approach to the nest. The female is nowhere to be seen but the eggs are still there, covered in vegetation and somewhat dirty. They are cool (but not cold) to the touch and it seems likely that the female has deserted, no doubt beaten by the continuing poor weather. I will make a final visit in a few days, just to be sure.