The wind

It is not so much the rain of June and early July that has caused the problems for our reed warbler project but the wind. The seemingly relentless run of windy days that hit during the second half of June tipped the contents from nests as the reeds bent and shifted. Weekly visits to the reed bed revealed an all too familiar picture; nests that had eggs or young chicks were now empty or gone altogether.

Reed warblers are, however, robust birds and quick to replace a nest with eggs that has been lost. In fact, some of the nests that disappear (leaving behind the tiny marker tape placed beneath the nest) are dismantled by the birds themselves, the material reused for the new nest placed just a few feet away. It was during our first field season that we first noticed this tendency to dismantle a failed nest and on occasion it caught us out. During that first season we only marked the location of a nest with a piece of tape placed on the track that we used to move through the beds. The nest itself would be unmarked but located within a few feet and easy enough to spot. Sometimes, however, you would arrive at the tape, recall the location of the nest and then adopt a puzzled expression at either your failure to refind it or to find that it had moved by a few feet. The addition of that second piece of tape leaves no doubt that a nest has been dismantled and moved.

Those nests placed in the most sheltered parts of the reed beds seem to have done alright, the birds rearing their young to fledging before probably making a second breeding attempt. Others may have lost their clutch to a cuckoo, the cuckoo chick typically hatching first and quickly jettisoning its hosts’ eggs over the side of the nest. The cuckoo chicks have not had it all their own way though, the windy conditions have taken their toll on them as well. So far, just one of the cuckoo chicks has fledged, others have only just hatched and others were lost to the weather.

Working so closely alongside these birds generates a degree of affection and you feel for the reed warbler pair in whose nest you spot a cuckoo egg. You know that this breeding attempt will be a failure for the warblers but the sadness is countered by the hope that a young cuckoo will fledge. After all, it is the cuckoo that is in decline while the reed warbler remains one of the few African migrants that seems to be flourishing. Lets hope the weather gives them both a fair crack over what is left of the season. 

The reedbed

I have always found reedbeds to be an enticing habitat; lush and green at the height of summer, brown and brittle in winter but seemingly always in motion and prompted to ‘whisper’ by the softest breeze. There is an apparent contrast between the reedbed in these two seasons – packed with life in summer and seemingly empty during the bleak days of midwinter. While it is certainly true that many of the reedbed’s summer creatures are gone (think of the Reed and Sedge Warblers now wintering in Africa) others remain. Most of the latter are insects and other invertebrates, some of which will have fed on the reeds themselves while others, notably the spiders, will have made a living from their fellow inhabitants. These small creatures will be tucked away, sitting out the worst of the weather either as eggs, larvae, pupae or adults. They are there and can be found if you venture into the reeds with a beating tray and a stout stick.

The winter reedbed does hold some larger creatures as well; the secretive Water Rail, which may only reveal its presence through its unusual (for a bird) grunts and squeals. These are more commonly heard in summer than winter, so catching up with this skulking reedbed denizen can require a degree of patient watching. Water Rails have a very wide diet, feeding on a range of invertebrates, vegetative matter, frogs and newts. When the weather conditions deteriorate then the rails may resort to feeding on carrion, sometimes even attacking small birds or visiting garden feeding stations. The winter reedbed may also hold an equally secretive visitor, the Bittern, whose winter numbers here in the UK may be swelled by birds arriving from further east if waterbodies there freeze over.

Other birds also make use of the reedbed during the winter months, with Pied Wagtails, Reed Buntings and even Starlings using the reeds as an overnight roost, secure from predators. One of my local reedbeds has been well-used by wagtails and buntings, the birds arriving just before dusk and leaving quietly, soon after dawn. The reeds also attract parties of Bearded Tits, whose chattering calls echo the bright personality of these delightful little birds.

Many of our reedbeds are fairly small but the larger expanses found in some parts of the county provide a substantial amount of habitat. Many of these larger beds are managed, either to halt the incursion of scrub or to supply reeds as thatch, and it is uplifting to see reeds being cut by hand, tied and stacked. This form of harvesting seems more in touch with the wider natural world and our place within its annual cycle. Long may it continue.