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Good news and bad news often come in stages until you finally get the full picture.
First, there was the good news:
Fri 07 Nov (Roy Harvey): A' probable' Steppe Grey Shrike was found today at Grainthorpe Haven. It was just after 4.00pm when we arrived. The bird was still present when we left. Hmmn - only a 'probable'.
Sat 08 Nov (Russell Hayes): Nearly stepped on the Steppe Grey Shrike - it was so close. (unintentional steppe-ing?)
Great - ID confirmed. Plus regular daily reports of its presence up to and including Wed 26 Nov. Then, came the bad news:
Thu 27 Nov (16.48) ('Birdguides'): No news either way so far today. Hmmn - could be no-one has bothered to report it.
Thu 27 Nov (21.48) ('Birdguides'): No sign of the 1st winter today!
Fri 28 Nov (Roy Harvey): Pager message this morning that feathers have been found at the site indicating that the Steppe Grey Shrike has probably been taken by a predator (later: info pointing towards a Sparrowhawk). Sounds pretty final! Indeed, "Mother Nature giveth and Mother Nature taketh away". It used to be said that if you lived by the sword, you may well die by the sword. The Shrike lived by beak and claw and so in a way it was fitting that it should perish by the beak and claw of a presumed Sparrowhawk. However, it could just be possible the bird isn't dead, but is lying low somewhere.
The Shrike's journey to Lincolnshire was in itself something of a miracle flight. It didn't reach us by just flitting across the Channel or the North Sea. This is a 1st winter bird which was hatched only a few months ago in the wilds of Central Asia - Uzbekistan, Turkestan, Afghanistan - thousands of miles away. We can only marvel at its incredible flight to Lincolnshire. One can easily forget the migratory feats of these avian long distance travellers. Perhaps the following poem encapsulates the readily accepted apathy to them. It was written after Louis Bleriot, an early French aviator, had become the first man to fly a plane across the English Channel in 1909. The Poem had particular reference to the Little Stint but the long migratory journey could well apply to our Shrike, though in a different direction.
When Bleriot the Channel flew
The people made a great to-do;
They came in thousands just to stare
At the great Conqueror of the Air
Who crossed from France to England's Shore
A flight of Twenty miles or more.
"How great an aeroplane!" they said;
"And what a noise the engine made!
"And how could Bleriot know that he
Would find his way across the sea,
Which none had ever flown before?"
And so they wonder more and more,
Until at last their hats they raise
And cheer to their great hero's praise.
Yet I, when called to make my flight,
Have slipped off in an Arctic night
And lightly flown o'er land and sea,
The only engine carrying me
My heart, no bigger than a shilling,
Which for twelve thousand miles is willing.
Less than two ounces is my weight,
No petrol cans increase my freight;
No chart nor compass 'neath my eyes
To mark the track through trackless skies-
and still untiring to the verge
Of Australasian ocean's surge
From North Siberia's coast I fly,
Spanning the globe unerringly.
No cheering thousands when I land,
No startling posters in the Strand;
No wondering word, no praise is heard.
But then - I only am a bird.
I believe the Shrike provided us with a new dimension in birding - An equality of participation. Not for the Shrike to flit furtively in the depths of some thick Hawthorn bush or to appear for a few fleeting seconds some 300 yards away. Oh, no! It came to inspect us, to examine OUR diagnostic features. It even seemed to interact. On one occasion, as it landed in a bush a few feet in front of me, it fixed its beady eyes on me and by a stretch of one's imagination it seemed to be communicating - "Who are you, then? What no camera! Get a life!"
The bird certainly had attitude and it not only had character - it WAS a character. It was a bird which made even the hardest nosed birder's heart beat a little faster when in contact.
The Shrike could well set a new trend in logos. The shot by Dean Eades of the birder with the Shrike on his cap could spawn a whole new range of birding logos directly linking birds to man. Forget the classic Rough-legged Buzzard shot in flight, forget the classic Waxwing on a branch. Now we could have a Robin on a garden fork, a Great-spotted Woodpecker on a nut feeder or .... a Steppe Grey Shrike on a cap. If the birder in that iconic shot is, or ever is, thin on top he can always claim to be one of the few birders in the world to have had a full head of Steppe Grey Shrike.
Every so often when we visit the countryside on a trip there will be a special event - the memory of which stays with us. It might be a spectacular sunset, a murmuration of thousands of Starlings, even a 'host of golden daffodils' as for William Wordsworth.
For many of us, the memory of the Steppe Grey Shrike will remain for some time. To paraphrase Wordsworth:
'I gazed-and gazed - but little thought
what wealth the bird to me had brought:
For oft, when on my bed I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
It'll flash upon that inward eye
which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my thoughts with pleasure strike
And wander with the Steppe Grey Shrike'.
To detract from the birding kudos that the Shrike's presence has given to Lincolnshire, some small-minded visitors from outside the County have emphasized that it is only a 'form' not a 'full separate species' However, for Lincs birders it is totally irrelevant that it was only a 'form'. After all, golfer Tiger Woods and footballer Cristiano Ronaldo are only 'forms' of homo sapiens and not full separate species, But I think we all agree that they are different and very special. Our bird transcends the dark overtones of taxonomy on this occasion.
Some of my non-birding friends have commented - "It's only a bird, you know; nothing more!" Indeed, it was a bird but WHAT A BIRD!
Even those Lincs birders who for whatever reason were unable to connect with it have been able to share in some way in its Lincolnshire sojourn. For the lucky ones, they can say, "I was there. I saw it. I photographed it. I experienced it".
For many of us, it may well become the 'bird of the year' and even 'the bird of the decade'.
We bid farewell to a bird that for a few hours banished our dark thoughts of the credit crunch, international terrorism, etc.
Yes, the Shrike has disappeared but may the pleasurable memories of it live long in our memories.
As Mandy West has so eloquently observed:
"So sad to hear of the Shrike's demise and I'm sure lots of people who witnessed
the beauty and trust of the bird will be left feeling heavy hearted at its sad
end. As many times before, what Mother Nature gives with one hand, She takes
away with the other.
I'm sure that it will live on in the hearts and minds of many of us and I shall
certainly remember it fondly. It put smiles of joy on everyone's face who shared
a moment with it, raised pounds for the local church and will certainly be a
talking point in the years to come.
Gone but not forgotten".
And so,
Lanius meridionalis pallidirostris
The LINCOLNSHIRE Steppe Grey Shrike
Grainthorpe Haven 07 11 08 - 26 11 08
We salute you
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