Silver-studded Blue
Hide for shooting songbirds I just spent a week in South–East Tuscany, checking out routes for our Birdsong and Music walking tour next May. The walking was glorious: old Franciscan pilgrimage paths winding through steep wooded hills opening out onto glorious vistas over the Tiber valley. The weather was perfect apart from (or perhaps including) one biblical thunderstorm. Previously I visited the same area in spring, when you could shut your eyes and create a virtual map of songbirds singing their hearts out in the scrubby fields surrounding Le Fontanelle. Last week there were still plenty of songbirds, but most were silent apart from the odd contact call. The only songs cutting through the stillness were a few descending scales from woodlarks and the occasional dry rattle of a cirl bunting.
In Autumn small birds seem even shier in Tuscany than in the UK, maybe a legacy of the old Mediterranean habit of shooting and eating anything that flies at this time of year. However this practice is less in vogue than before and is now frowned upon by most Italians, even in the countryside. We heard fewer gunshots that we would have a few years ago, but still occasionally came upon hides with evidence of elaborate decoys and perching posts carefully bent to be within range. The upside of this tradition is that scrubby margins have always been left to encourage the production of young warblers and finches for the pot. I hope these rich pockets of habitat will not be grubbed up in the name of agricultural improvement as their sporting value diminishes.
In Autumn small birds seem even shier in Tuscany than in the UK, maybe a legacy of the old Mediterranean habit of shooting and eating anything that flies at this time of year. However this practice is less in vogue than before and is now frowned upon by most Italians, even in the countryside. We heard fewer gunshots that we would have a few years ago, but still occasionally came upon hides with evidence of elaborate decoys and perching posts carefully bent to be within range. The upside of this tradition is that scrubby margins have always been left to encourage the production of young warblers and finches for the pot. I hope these rich pockets of habitat will not be grubbed up in the name of agricultural improvement as their sporting value diminishes.
Last week the best time to see birds was soon after sunrise, when they were busy feeding. An early morning climb to the summit of the ancient fort behind the house revealed a fall of redstarts that had arrived during the night, while chiffchaffs exchanged their locations with shrill calls and loose flocks of local great, blue, coal and marsh tits chattered away as they foraged, while charms of goldfinches tinkled in the tops of bushes. A pair of migrating crag martins flew low over my head, then spiralled up and disappeared high over the ridge to the south.
| Later in the day the silence was broken only by the screeching of jays, and occasional calls of nuthatches, short-toed treecreepers, green, great spotted and lesser-spotted woodpeckers. These tree-huggers may have been less vulnerable to hunters than the songbirds in scrub, and therefore could afford to make more noise. In autumn Lesser-spotted woodpeckers are some of the most secretive birds in the UK, but to my surprise last week in Tuscany they were among most evident, and with patience I got some good views. |  Great spotted Woodpecker |
Field Cricket In spring nightingales are the undisputed lords of the Tuscan acoustic world, bubbling and sobbing ubiquitously above a supporting cast of warblers and exotic golden orioles. In autumn the real stars are not birds at all, but big-headed, awkward-looking male field crickets which call incessantly from afternoon until the small hours whenever the temperature exceeds 13 degrees. If you tune in and focus inside their their narrow pitch range their calls are subtle and varied, each transmitting information about age, fitness, and diet to females who cruise around in search of the best vocalist. When a female makes her choice and approaches, the male softens his tone and sings a brief courtship song before they disappear into his burrow together.
Adonis Blue After midnight the cricket chorus dies down and the night is punctuated only by the occasional calls of female and male tawny owls (tu-whit and tu-whoo respectively). One night I was woken by the unearthly sound of two distant groups of wolves howling exquisitely across the valley, a vivid reminder that this is a truly wild landscape with predators of all sizes.
A highlight of these autumn walks was a wonderful variety of butterflies including silver-studded and adonis blues, spectacular great-banded graylings, woodland graylings, pearl-bordered and silver-washed fritillaries, common and Berger's clouded yellows, wood whites. Insects, (and therefore bird food) were everywhere, butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, bees, mantises. Many of them settled photogenically on eryngium amethystinum (below), a cousin of sea holly whose amethyst blooms light up the dry september grassland.
A highlight of these autumn walks was a wonderful variety of butterflies including silver-studded and adonis blues, spectacular great-banded graylings, woodland graylings, pearl-bordered and silver-washed fritillaries, common and Berger's clouded yellows, wood whites. Insects, (and therefore bird food) were everywhere, butterflies, beetles, grasshoppers, bees, mantises. Many of them settled photogenically on eryngium amethystinum (below), a cousin of sea holly whose amethyst blooms light up the dry september grassland.
Eryngium Amethystinum
Come and join us at Le Fontanelle next May to explore this richly biodiverse tapestry, enriched by its glorious songbird chorus.
Lizzie Wingfield, our host at Le Fontanelle, and my sister and co-leader Liz enjoy a well earned rest and enjoy the view from the top of Monte Verde on an ancient pilgrimage route
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