As soon as the summer days begin to shorten, I start anticipating the return of our winter visitors. I’ve always had a love for waders and wildfowl; some of my earliest birding memories are learning to identify species like wigeon and teal.
More than a decade later, after studying wildlife conservation and ecology on the south coast, I live in Poole on the Dorset coast. The wide expanse of Poole Harbour is the main draw for birders and wildlife lovers, but one of the harbour’s best sites is Holes Bay, slightly inland, in sight of the centre of Poole, and beside a busy retail park.
As the tide falls, the mudflats are exposed – an all-you-can-eat buffet for waders. Teeming with invertebrates and molluscs, these rich feeding grounds require specialised tools. A long, probing bill lined with sensitive nerve endings allows waders to sense prey hidden beneath the surface.
One of the harbour’s most significant visitors is the Icelandic subspecies of black-tailed godwit (Limosa limosa islandica). It is aptly named: Limosa translates as “muddy”. The harbour hosts more than 3,400 individuals from this subspecies each winter – that’s about 8% of the entire global population. They breed in Iceland and migrate south to overwinter in parts of western Europe including the UK.
As the temperature drops, I pull on gloves and a woolly hat. The hide I’m in offers some shelter and overlooks the north-west section of the bay. In the distance, I can see the centre of Poole, and the drone of traffic along the A350 drifts in on the wind.
Black-tailed godwits are scattered across the mud. Some emerge from the tidal channels, taking their time – one step forward, one very deliberate probe into the silt. Holes Bay, with its sheltered, shallow waters, provides perfect conditions for them.
Waders can be tricky to identify, but black-tailed godwits are relatively straightforward. Their long, straight bills and plain brown-grey upperparts are distinctive. They can be separated from bar-tailed godwits by their broad white wing bars, black tail bands and plainer plumage.
As the tide begins to rise again, the godwits gather, lifting into the air in a shimmering flock. They never fail to brighten up a murky autumn day.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
