Terns are good

 

“Which is your favourite bird?” Was the question I was asked by my daughter the day before my birthday.  Aware that she was asking in the secretive way that an 8 year old with a surprise in mind asks, I weighed the question up and played for time.  A single favourite bird?  A difficult question at any time, let alone when thinking of a bird that, preferably, can be drawn in a sweet hand made card by a child in single figure years.  

My mind went to eagles - but a friend recently said to me that all men choose birds of prey when they’re asked their favourite bird, and that made me shy away from eagles and falcons; I don’t want to be predictable, or conform to a stereotype… I thought of ducks, and the colours and elegance of winter flocks, but the yearning for summer made me look again.  

In hindsight, it was obvious that I would pick terns.  What’s not to love?  Contrasting bold colours along with soft transitional plumage; the twisting flight of marsh terns butterflying across a pool in comparison with the dynamic and powerful flight of the larger terns over the sea; an array of bill colours and body postures that add to the character of colonies of these noisy birds.  The way they spear into water and the way they sweep and glide effortlessly - they’re masters of air and wave, and I love their return every year.

2024 has been a year of terns so far for me.  The first Common Terns on inland pools giving me that thrill of migration are always the spring bird I look forward to with most excitement.  Finding the aerobatic Arctic Tern moving through to their colonies at the coast and hoping to see Black Tern (this year at Frampton) brings me as much joy as the tiny Little Terns and the comparatively bulky Sandwich along the coast on a sunny late spring day.  Spending time along the coast of Northumberland this spring means that I’ve caught up with good numbers of Roseate Terns, the pink wash and the dark bill on those pale and fluttering birds making them stand out even amongst the company of other terns.  

But even beyond these, there have been stunning birds that made me catch my breath and revel in the joy of observation.  The Forster’s Tern at Arne stood out in early spring as it drifted high across the south coast and though the view was brief it was exhilarating.  Finding those birds that are just a little bit different to what I usually see adds a note of novelty, of learning in a deeper way to an experience I already love.  That’s why the American Black Tern at Long Nanny has drawn so many people to view what is, currently, a subspecies of Black Tern.  Her beauty is in the curiosity of her attempt to breed with an Arctic Tern as much as in the delight of her plumage and the elegance of her movement.  People respond to that - she can’t be “ticked” but this is a bird worth watching in its own right, simply for the experience.

And yet, this is still not the pinnacle of my tern year.  The Whiskered Tern that played hide and seek across two ponds in Lincolnshire this last week was a subtle and grey-shaded bird that evaded easy sightings, playing hard to get and very much being worth the effort.  The contrast of the white cheek with the dark cap is hard to top in my opinion. 

 Yet the final tern of my week manages to out-perform all of the others, and by some distance.  The Bridled Tern, my second in two years, that hawked and bullied the Arctics into dropping their catch across Coquet Island is a study in sheer aerodynamic brilliance; the long wings, the smoked black upper side and brilliant contrasting white underparts; the central tail streamer making flight identification easier… is there a more beautiful bird?  I don’t think so.  In many ways summer is the quietest time for birds in the UK, but it’s still my favourite time because, simply, terns are good.

So I said to my daughter that my favourite birds were terns, and she laughed knowingly, and the following day handed me my card in which she had painstakingly drawn a beautiful bird that lives near water and dives headfirst for fish.  Well, Kingfishers are everyone’s favourites, really, aren’t they?