(Following
on from CalCun Rock)
I’m still
reeling from the direct hit of Knot dropping, I look around to see what has
caused the panic, but I already know. I’m just after confirmation.
Peregrine.
I have
watched Knots long enough both at home and abroad to recognise this reaction
from the flock.
It balloons
up from the flats, it looks like someone has inflated the flock.
Scant
seconds earlier it was flat on the floor. There it looked two dimensional, it
only had depth and width. Now it is 3D, it rolls around the fjord like a
tornado. The noise is breathtaking, wing beats and alarm calls mix to a cacophony.
I look away
to find the predator, its first dive was unsuccessful so it has wheeled around
for another go. I locate it as it winds itself up for another dive from above
the flock.
It stoops
into the flock, the Knot dive for the floor and twist into a long stringy flock
a few feet from the rocks. The Peregrine is bearing down on them with all the
intent of a starving migrant freshly arrived on its breeding grounds, it is
feet from the terrified waders now.
Then it is
on them, I lose it amongst the birds, their alarm calls getting shriller, their
manoeuvres ever more desperate. (Looking back after the event I notice that the
Peregrine is amongst the flock in the following picture, a third of the way in
from the left and two thirds up the flock)
Again it
misses, the flock comes around and flies towards then over me...
...before
making a sharp right turn the Peregrine can’t follow. Instead it gains height,
resets itself and goes again. This time it clatters into the heart of the flock
and knocks four birds into the water below.
The main
flock wheels off left but the Peregrine is only interested in the ones it has
separated from the retreating mass. I can see them struggling in the shallow
water. Two get airborne and sneak off low towards the head of the fjord. The
Peregrine darts at one that is swimming in a blind panic but it won’t take it
from the surface of the water, it obviously is concerned about getting its
plumage wet.
It zooms up
50 feet above the 2 stricken Knots to consider its next move. I have lost sight
of the remainder of the flock, I am transfixed by the struggle in front of me.
Then the Knot on the right makes a fatal error, I can see it come to the wrong
decision. A few feet in front of it there is a seaweed covered rock protruding
several centimetres from the water. It starts to swim towards what it thinks is
safety, it looks injured or perhaps waterlogged from the crash into the water.
I’m looking at it thinking “not the rock, stay in the water” but I can see what
it is going to do, its mind is made up and the inevitable is going to happen.
The Peregrine anticipates this too and prepares to strike.
The Knot
splashes its way to the rock and hauls itself out. Less than a second later
there is its last splash as the falcon swoops and takes it. A swift twist of the
neck and it is all over.
The
Peregrine takes its meal off to the side of the fjord, out of sight.
Silence descends across the mudflats. The atmosphere is strange, a little
subdued. I stop and think about what has just happened. Fair enough the
Peregrine has to eat, but I was struck by the palpable terror that I could
sense from the flock. It was an amazing thing to witness at such close
quarters. Eventually the Knots return to the flats and start to feed.
We collect
a bit more data but it is tricky as the birds are very restless. We trudge back
towards the bank, crossing a grassy plateau in the mud. Here we come across the
place the Peregrine ate its dinner.
We all
stand around in a circle, like mourners at a funeral. There isn’t much left.
Both legs, some feathers and a breast bone is all we find. A few feathers and a
leg are taken for DNA analysis then we wander off leaving the odd downy feather
quivering in the breeze.
The more
time I spend with these birds the more I love them.
Next time, a guest
blogger on From the Muddy Banks of the Dee....
























































