Nightingales in November (33 page)

Close to six weeks after hatching, and some 78 days since the first egg was laid, early June should see Peregrine chicks lifting off, as all their practice flapping enables them finally to defy gravity for the first time. Due to the elevated temperatures in towns and cities caused by the heat island effect, urban-nesting Peregrines may fledge a week or so earlier than their countryside cousins. As some of the chicks' feathers are still in pin, they will often be a touch overweight on leaving the nest, meaning that their first flights can be clumsy and haphazard. Certainly any ecclesiastically-bred birds that don't manage to flutter to a nearby spire or gargoyle on their maiden flight could easily become grounded in the graveyard below or even further afield. Often the smaller and lighter males tend to fledge marginally before the bulkier females, and those lucky enough to have grasped a suitable perch close to the nest will then be content to stay there for a few hours while noisily haranguing their parents into rewarding their efforts with something edible. Within the space of just a few days the young should have both strengthened their flight muscles sufficiently and lost enough weight to make flying much more straightforward, but it will be far longer before they will manage to master the dark arts of catching moving prey!

Also taking to the air for the first time, any surviving Lapwing chicks able to simply airlift themselves away from
danger will have suddenly and massively boosted their chances of making it to adulthood. It has been calculated that Lapwings only need to rear between 0.8 and 1 chick each season to sustain their numbers, and the very fact that the British breeding population has fallen by over 50% in the last 25 years shows how a combination of agricultural intensification and increased predation levels are severely impacting the survival levels of this wonderful wader. Even after the young have begun flying they will remain dependent on their parents for at least another week, and can still be clearly picked out by their shorter crest, less well-marked face, scaly backs and incomplete breast-band. By the time their youngsters have begun to fledge, the adults will have already started their annual moult. But needing to remain airborne, in order to track down widely dispersed feeding opportunities throughout in the summer, it is likely the moulting process will not be completed until later in the autumn.

In the nest for a grand total of no more than 13 days, the Nightingale chicks will need to grow quickly on their non-stop diet of invertebrate food. As fledging approaches the feathered youngsters will suddenly become much more aware of their surroundings and crouch down if danger threatens. As a last line of defence they will have also developed the ability to gape in a threatening manner if any predator stumbles across the nest. The parents will be only too aware that the success of their entire breeding season will be riding on this one precious brood of chicks and so will give excited alarm calls and mob any potential predator zeroing in on the location of the nest. As a last resort the adults will also attempt a distraction lure, where they will try to distract the predator by feigning injury, such as a broken wing, while fluttering around on the ground in a seemingly
hopeless fashion. The predator – thinking an easy meal has presented itself – will be drawn towards the adult and away from the chicks, only then to see the adult Nightingale make a miraculous recovery at the last second.

Leaving the nest, the spotty and brown young Nightingales look superficially similar to fledgling Robins, and being still unable to fly for a further three or four days, will need to be quickly led away by their parents into the comparative safety of the surrounding undergrowth. Unlike the majority of their continental cousins, British Nightingales are only thought to have one brood, so with both the adults freed from any further breeding constraints they're able to devote themselves to looking after their young for at least the next fortnight. Still reliant on their parents to find them food for at least the first week out of the nest, it's thought that the brood may often be separated between parents, giving each youngster a better level of attention and more personal tuition in the ways of finding food. Dividing the chicks will also split the risk, thereby maximising the chance that at least some fledglings will make it through to autumn migration.

His duties suitably discharged when his first brood disperses into the surrounding countryside, the male Robin will waste little time in turning his attention back to his mate, who should by now already be sitting on clutch number two. As the male doesn't generally feed the female while she incubates, this will give him a little time to catch his breath before the second brood begins demanding food. He will of course not abandon his responsibilities entirely during this down-time, and be on hand to safely whistle her off the eggs if and when she needs to feed. If his mate is tucked away on a nest with minimal visibility of her surroundings and a mammalian predator (such as a human)
is observed too close, the male will often make a ‘
tic-tic
' alarm to warn her, which once learnt is easily recognised. Birds such as Sparrowhawks are treated differently, as these represent not just a very real threat to the female herself, but also to the entire clutch if she were to be predated. If a Sparrowhawk is spotted close by then the male will make a ‘
see-eep
' call, warning her to keep her head down and stay still. If all goes according to plan, and after only two weeks hunkered down on the nest and a mere seven weeks since her first brood hatched, the Robin's second batch of chicks should then begin to emerge into the nest. Upon hatching they won't immediately need feeding while they use up the last of their yolk reserves, but the removal of the broken eggshells from the nest will surely serve as a clear statement to the male that his relaxing break has just come to a shuddering halt.

Still with their first brood, the river can be a noisy place as the Kingfisher parents mercilessly force their young out of the family's territory. Armed with little more than just a few days spent watching their parents catch fish with unerring accuracy and effortless skill, the evicted youngsters will have little choice other than to quickly spread out along the artery of waterways surrounding what was temporarily their home. With no knowledge as to where each watercourse leads, or which territories are already occupied, these can be incredibly testing times for the young naive birds. Usually within the first day of being chased away the young birds could be at least 300 metres away, and may have moved as far as a few kilometres from their parents' territory in the space of just a few days. Those sites with plenty of fish and many potential nesting locations may see territories very close to one another, and so any youngster fishing on
another pair's patch will need to keep very quiet if it's to avoid being spotted and subsequently driven out. However, if the young bird's presence goes unchallenged, it may have landed in a vacant lot, and so proceed to staking an ownership claim. Any territories secured early by young Kingfishers will enhance their survival prospects no end, as catching sufficient food will only become more difficult as summer fades into autumn. The stark reality is that as few as 20% of all fledging Kingfishers will survive long enough to see their first birthday. But if they do survive this first tough year then the odds will start to improve, although not by much, as the BTO estimates that the typical lifespan of a Kingfisher is little more than a paltry two years. In fact the oldest Kingfisher recorded in Britain was four years, six months and 13 days when re-trapped, and while older birds undoubtedly exist, the Kingfisher is certainly in the ‘live fast, die young' category.

Being such short-lived birds means it certainly pays to try and rear as many young each season as possible, which in the case of the Kingfishers can be achieved by attempting a second, and even very occasionally, a third brood. Those pairs successfully managing to fledge their first brood according to plan will be keen to nest again with all possible haste. Faced with this scenario, their first decision will then be whether to reuse the previous tunnel or attempt the time-costly, but more sanitary option of digging a fresh tunnel and chamber. If the pair decides the first tunnel is still fit for purpose, then the female will obviously need to wait until the first brood has fledged before giving the nest a spring clean. But if the adults do decide a fresh start might be better after the fledging of their first brood, then some time can be saved if the first brood's diving lessons are delegated to her mate. Additionally, the second nest invariably seems to be excavated more quickly, possibly as the pair will by now have gained a good understanding of
how to work with the particular soil type, which should enable them to dig more effectively.

Unlike Robins and Kingfishers, the long incubation period and extended adolescence of the Tawny Owl youngsters mean that their parents will never be able to rear more than a single brood each year. Despite a month having passed since the young first ventured out of the nest and into the trees, they will still be haranguing their parents to bring them food each night, behaviour that will in all likelihood continue right the way through the summer. With their breeding season now over, and in spite of the extra demands placed on them by their needy offspring, the adult Tawny Owls will by now have begun their annual moult. Keen to keep flying and yet not compromise their hunting ability throughout this energetically costly process, the shedding and replacement of particularly the flight feathers will be carried out in a slow and methodical fashion, possibly not being completed until early autumn.