Norfolk Wildlife Trust: Wetland birds are counting on us

The trouble with birds is that they don’t stay still; their ability to fly, swim, dive and form constantly moving flocks seems a punishment meted out to those of us tasked with counting them.

Add to this, standing in a bobbing boat facing a biting north-easterly wind, streaming eyes, chilled hands and dew-drop nose; it often feels more like an endurance sport then birdwatching.

Despite these occasional discomforts, one designated Sunday every month, Norfolk Wildlife Trust staff and volunteers carry out a tradition that runs back over seventy years.

Wetland Birds Survey carried out at NWT reserves (Image: Lee Wright)

The Wetland Birds Survey is a nationwide count carried out by both individuals and wildlife conservation bodies on the same day, across over two thousand sites.

In the Broads all the main NWT reserves are covered.

My personal favourites are Barton and Cockshoot Broads, ending the day at Ranworth Broad.

Varieties of wildfowl are identified and counted, and in winter this can run to many hundreds, of a dozen or more species.

We leave Ranworth shortly after sunset, having witnessed the impressive numbers of cormorants and gulls that come to roost here.

After the Second World War (and the lifting of security around reservoirs and coastal areas) many amateur birdwatchers, understandably desiring the tranquillity of the countryside, took up their hobby again.

Many, anecdotally, concluded that wildfowl numbers had dropped sharply.

This prompted, in 1947, a government-funded scheme run by the British section of the International Wildfowl Research Institute based at the Natural History Museum.

It was tasked with surveying several bodies of water, in the London and Birmingham area.

Carried out, overwhelmingly, by an army of volunteers, the scheme continued to grow from strength to strength.

Brent geese at Norfolk Wildlife Trusts Cley Marshes (Image: Elizabeth Dack)

By the winter of 1951-52 the National Wildfowl Count (NWC) had risen to over 500 census sites.

At this time the NWC was jointly run by The Wildfowl Trust and the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) and continued to focus on ducks and geese.

During the 1960s, development pressure on our larger estuaries grew.

There were proposals for tidal barriers, barrages, marinas and even an airport in the Thames Estuary on Maplin sands.

In 1969, the Birds of Estuaries Enquiry was launched, focusing on birds that relied on our mudflats and then widened to include wading birds.

Although it was understood that a great number of waders passed through or wintered on our estuarine mudflats, it was this study that highlighted, on a global scale, the importance to so many species.

What was viewed as ‘just mud’ was now seen as a special and irreplaceable habitat.

In 1993, an integrated scheme managed by the BTO was launched.

The Wetland Bird Survey, commonly referred to as ‘WeBs’, not only included ducks, geese and waders, but also divers, grebes, herons, gulls, terns and any other bird that choses to hangout in wet places.

The gathering of this hard data is the backbone of the science that is essential when influencing decision makers concerning wildlife protection.

It is most likely to be a volunteer collecting the data, with the obligatory stumpy pencil and scrappy notebook, staring out at a near empty lake.

Two mallards of questionable heritage bobbing between wind-induced waves, can tease a short-lived twitch from the freezing birdwatcher, but even a nil result is still important data.

With perseverance comes pleasure and there is of course the self-righteous knowledge that one is adding to our understanding of wetland birds and their protection.

A male smew at Blakeney (Image: Andy Taylor)

Just as importantly, the WeBS survey has led to many personal and wonderful wildlife experiences.

Otters and kingfishers of course, but also spectacles such as beautiful whooper swan flocks, pure white like clean sheets, stretched out against a leaden grey December sky.

Or thousands of wild geese whiffling through the air to land on a sodden marsh.

Then there is the rarity, a precious jewel sparkling amongst the gadwall and teal, a male smew perhaps.

A reward for the hardy during the inevitable spell of Arctic weather that brought it here.

So yes, wetland birds are counting on us.