This is a short walk (about 4-5 km) around the southern end of the Pfrunger-Burgweiler Ried. If you don't know, this is a large rewetted lowland moor in the middle of some pretty intensively-farmed countryside in upper Swabia.
About 40 minutes drive north of Friedrichshafen you'll find the town of Wilhelmsdorf, where we start out today. Park up at the visitor centre, make sure you have optics and good boots on. It's grey and spitting with rain today: very early-spring-feeling. The centre has a bunch of nestboxes on the wall, mainly occupied by House Sparrows, but there are always some Tree Sparrows among them too. A pair of Kestrels use the roof space and are often hunting in the little meadow on the east side of the road. The woods directly adjacent to the centre are not massively exciting, but there's a representative bird fauna to be heard: today Woodpigeons and Collared Doves, Song Thrush, Robin, Blackbird, Carrion Crow, Blue and Great Tits all make themselves heard. A flock of Starlings - only back within the last couple of weeks - pile in to the top of a pine, only to head off again immediately.
We head off left along the road and turn immediately right towards the ponds, taking the second path through the complex. A pair of Coot are busily diving for plant food directly in front of us, several pairs of Mallard are swimming around further back on the pool. A lone male farm duck ditches on the pool and tries it on with one of the female Mallards, who responds with intense loud quacks and swims off with her preferred (standard-coloured) mate. Tough being the odd-looking bird. Some Teal are skulking at the back of the pool, the males 'pleep' and head-bob to attract the females, who don't seem any more impressed than Ms. Mallard.
A Short-toed Treecreeper belts out a couple of rounds of song from the birches next to us. We pass some intensive beaver action - gnawed poplars are lying on the deck - and admire a Muskrat paddling across the water; tail waving serpentines at the surface gives away that it can't possibly be a juvenile beaver.
Crossing the watershed between the Rhine and Danube (bet you didn't notice that!), we head left towards the road again. The first Yellowhammer of the morning is chinking in the hedge, a Blackbird busy hauling worms out of the grass on the path-side. A Wren blasts us with song suddenly and then darts off into the undergrowth.
We walk back to the road, turn right and follow along the side of the 'overgrown lake', now hidden below willows and reed. Another Yellowhammer sits on top of a dead tree and sings, below him are Long-tailed Tits working their way through the scrub with shrill cries. A Reed Bunting sits, half-hidden, near the top of a dead birch sapling and sings his three-phrase song. Maybe we stop for a little too long and he loses his nerve, flying away from the road. Fieldfares are calling from the birches on the other side of the road - maybe they're back setting up territory already, but I suspect these are just passing through. As we walk on, first one, then three Roe Deer appear in the meadows to the right, staring nervously at us before bounding wildly away into the distance, white rumps bobbing. Finally they feel safe and stop, turning heads back to watch us but ever-ready to bounce off further the moment we turn towards them.
We take the second track on the left, remains of tarmac surfacing still keeping the vegetation at bay. Passing low willow scrub on the right we approach some ponds neatly created by more of the many beavers living here - the first one has no more than a pair each of Mallard and Coot. The scrub behind had one or two Chaffinches tuning up, a mixed flock of tits includes a Marsh Tit sneezing indignantly at us. Great Spotted Woodpeckers are now drumming in the background, staccato rolls echoing across the meadows from every patch of woodland. The next pond holds another small flock of Teal, who completely lose it and rocket into the air as we stop to listen for birdsong. Almost lost among the Great Spotted Woodpeckers, a Lesser Spotted is also drumming - longer, steadier and ever-so-slightly slower than their larger cousin. It's a way off though, somewhere in the poplars behind the next pool.
As we walk on, a Buzzard lifts heavily out of a tree near the pond and flops across to the next line of trees, accompanied by raucous cries of complain from a pair of crows. The next woodpecker makes itself known: a Green Woodpecker laughing its socks off at us (so it seems). The Lesser Spot is drumming again, and this time it's visible, albeit distantly: a stumpy blob at the top of a broken-off poplar patiently drumming, listening, drumming again. Good thing the telescope came! A bit of zoom and it's clear enough, despite the grey day. A solitary male Goosander speeds overhead, aiming for the nearby fishing lake. Unexpectedly, a Sparrowhawk bursts out of the tree next to us and slips away through the scrub. Shame we didn't pick it up before it flew... The Jays certainly noticed when it headed off though!
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| On a sunnier day... |
Out of the trees and across what used to be a grazed meadow - now being altered to keep people (and dogs) and cattle apart to prevent any misunderstandings. The ground is squashy peat under out feet, water oozing to the surface with every step. A pair of Greylags eye us as suspiciously as the deer did earlier: they also move away, though with far less speed and elegance. A silvery warble gives away the presence of Stonechats in the field - hardly a common bird generally in this overmanaged landscape, but fortunately quite abundant at this site. A female perches up nicely for us, flitting from vantage point to vantage point across the field, dropping occasionally onto some tasty morsel in the plants. A couple of Cormorants flap southwards over us, away from the fishing lake. Just behind the line of the trees, a group of crows have found something they really don't like: they circle and divebomb the canopy just where we can't see, shouting insults - or maybe calling attention to their compatriots. Whatever it is (likely a Goshawk) moves off without our ever being able to see it. Disappointing...
Turn left again and follow the ditch and hedge southwards. More Yellowhammers and Fieldfare, and finally our first Willow Tits of the day - a pair of them working their way northwards along the hedge, bleating at us for being in their territory. Another Green Woodpecker calls, then flies along the treeline to our left; just for the sake of comparison, it seems, a Grey-headed Woodpecker pipes a sad-sounding series of whistles at the same time from the woods behind us. We join the gravel track leading down along the west edge of the woods, a young mix of pine, spruce, oak and willows with hazel and dogwood scrub between. Goldcrests twitter through the low scrub, Crested Tits purr from the middle of the spruces and Coal Tits seesaw their way through the canopy. Song Thrushes are belting their hearts out everywhere now, Robins dash on and off, and across the path, snatching invertebrates from the gravel.
As we leave the woods at their southern end, a Kestrel rises off the rough meadow and sits at the top of a nearby tree. We turn left once more, through a stand of older trees on the fringe of the town, where Nuthatch and Hawfinch are lurking in the canopy - the former far easier to see than the latter! At the end of this track, the carpark is visible on our left, but there's a final treat to enjoy: a pair of White Storks have their nest on top of the telephone pole across the road. One bird stands on the nest, its mate on the neighbouring rooftop, both carefully preening their plumage with those long red bills. For the first of March, it's not a bad day - grey and occasionally spotting with rain, but still over 40 bird species on a short walk.
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