Although
the Broad is effectively dead; devoid of any submerged aquatic vegetation,
without invertebrates and their attendant fish, untroubled by mass hatching of
dragonflies and minus any floating, flowering plants such as lilies, it does
have a surprising number of great crested grebes. There is something like a
dozen pairs of these streamlined, dagger-billed water birds scattered around
the fringes of the clouded waters each setting up territory, there hoping to
raise this year’s brood. They feast on the bream, perch and silverfish fry that
teem in the shallows, bottom feeders not dependent on clear water for their
livelihood. In the early morning of an April day, a scan across the gently
rippling water will show a scattering of courting pairs, head shaking, down
preening, deep orange frills spread; with head tufts raised, red eyes staring
intently at their mate they will perform their graceful mating dance.
Invigorating, mesmerising and beautiful.
Anchorage
points for their flimsy nests are few and far between so competition is keen
for any prime spot, one such area being close to the Visitor Centre thus
allowing a chance to observe their behaviour up close. Three pairs are busy
sorting out housing rights here, one seems to be quite settled but the other
two pairs are playing a game of cat and mouse to determine dominance over a
particular patch of partly submerged tree stumps and drooping branches of
sinking sallow. One of these pairs did have a nest partly built and tucked away
behind the Centre, but this was flooded out shortly after completion; they have
set eyes on a more stable nest site. The pair in residence are none too happy
with this intrusion. During the course of my shift last week I watched the
displaced pair try on numerous occasions to usurp the other. They would wait
until the coast was clear and then swim quietly to the favoured nest site,
loafing around waiting to see whether they would get away with the trespass.
Sometimes they had the place to themselves for a few minutes, but mostly were
met with lowered posturing, loud growling and a head on assault. They always
escaped by either skittering away ungainly across the water or diving back to a
safe distance across, what is to us, an invisible territorial boundary, there
to loiter until they judged it safe to try again.
Whenever the victors saw off their
rivals, they would approach one another and with keen grunts of excitement
treat us to their fabled display; once rearing out of the water to perform what
should be the incredible weed dance, only here there is no weed so a beak full
of detritus has to suffice. Wonderful to observe never the less; what better
way could nature devise to reinforce the pair bond?
These
birds will sort themselves out before too long. It seems the dominant pair of
this trio may well be the pair that had many misfortunes last year (see 30 Days Wild - Daylight Robbery ). They appear to have learned from their
mistakes and are attempting to build their nest in the V of a tree stump,
several inches above the normal water level. If they manage this without the
ever attendant gulls and predatory otter spoiling the party they have a good
chance of a successful hatching. We will see.
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