For me, Spoonbill have been a mythical creature, like a Unicorn. Several times I have packed up my gear and headed off to a site where a Spoonbill was reported to be flaunting itself lasciviously to all and sundry . . . until I arrived, when suddenly it adopted the demure, shy and retiring nature of Boo Radley. Recently, one was reported in Lady’s Island Lake, and I hit the road in the hope that this time would be different.
As you approach Lady’s Island Lake from Tagoat, there’s a lay-by overlooking the west end of the Lake. I pulled up here and set up my scope, scanning for the Great White Egret that had been reported. There were a couple of Little Egret, some Common Sandpiper, and also a couple of Ringed Plover. They were too far away to identify whether they were the Little Ringed Plover that were also in the area.
At that point a white van sped down the road and pulled up sharply across the road from me. A shaven headed man, smoking a cigarette, jumped out of the van and crossed the road towards me. Being from Dublin, I presumed that he was going to rob my scope, steal my wallet and phone, and mock my dress-sense, which is what apparently happens on Bull Island causeway all the time. I could smell the cigarette smoke, and hear his footsteps behind me, as I braced myself for the jack handle reverberating across my skull. But . . . he kept walking past me, picked up several pieces of litter with a tutting sound, and hopped back into his van, leaving me angst ridden for judging somebody on their appearance.
Although Tacumshin is probably better for rarities, Lady’s Island Lake is my favourite birding spot in Wexford. This is primarily because it has, not one, but TWO well maintained public toilets!! Bliss for a birder after a long car journey. It also has a convenience store. A few years ago, I decided that I would try and bring my children birdwatching with me, and brought them down to Wexford. It was a stupid idea. After five minutes in Tacumshin they started with the bored chorus, and no promise of Bearded Reedlings could quiet them. I then tried to placate them with chicken fillet rolls and fizzy drinks from the deli in Lady’s Island Lake. We aborted the birdwatching trip and headed home. Passing through Gorey, one of them said “Dad, I think I’m going to be . . .”, before vomiting like a water cannon all over the back of the (new!!) car. But anyway, back to the Spoonbill.
I moved on to Island, driving over the causeway, past the leaning castle tower and past, for some reason, a lady in a furry dressing gown who seemed to be lecturing some children. There’s a magnificent scots pine in the car park, encased in lichen and moss. Goldfinch and chaffinch lined the branches, and House Martins swooped just over the topmost boughs. I walked through the trees to the east side of the causeway. It was still early morning and the sun low in the sky was reflecting off the water and the exposed mud, creating quite a glare. But, more in hope than in expectation, I set up the scope. There, amid the Godwits and Lapwing and Dunlin, I focused directly on a large white bird, with hunched over shoulders, who seemed to be sweeping through the mud with two large spatulas instead of a beak! This was my first Spoonbill, and it’s a bird that has intrigued me for some time. When I was starting secondary school, and had just started birdwatching, I read Coot Club by Arthur Ransome. Part of the story involves searching the Norfolk Broads for an elusive Spoonbill. I used to curse growing up in rural Ireland, where we didn’t have exotic birds like Bittern, Avocet and Spoonbill, but now finally I got to see one in Ireland.
I soaked in the views of the Spoonbill, who seemed to be gobbling up morsels in an ungainly manner, before taking a stroll around the peninsula, with its multiple altars, stations of the cross, and loudspeakers. There is a real contemplative, restful atmosphere on the site, and you can see why it’s a pilgrimage site. At the end of the peninsula, the restful silence is broken by the cacophony of hundreds of terns – the adults being pestered by their young for food (don’t give them a chicken fillet roll whatever you do!). Roseate, Arctic, Common and Sandwich Terns – it’s the perfect place to develop your ID skills on this tricky species.
After a celebratory Danish and Coffee from the store, I headed home happy with a new tick.
BirdBrain 