Little Terns

On a hot and sultry June afternoon, we walk for a half mile along the wide, largely deserted sea shore. Flanked to the west by a 15-foot-high dune wall, and to the east by an unusually calm North Sea; on this day a vast shimmer of Caribbean blue.  Indeed, if it wasn’t for the absence of palm trees, it would be easy to think you were strolling around one of those sun kissed islands. We’ve come to see the Little Terns.

A few people are using the beach for recreational purposes, but are glued to the area around the access path. None seem aware, or interested, in venturing a short distance to inquire why part of the beach has been fenced off, and why a small portacabin and portable loo have been positioned on the edge of the barrier. Do any read the signs informing them of how this area of an East Norfolk beach is playing host to one of our rarest sea birds? Only a couple, although in total fairness all the dog owners we notice comply with the request to keep their canine pals on a lead. Very heartening to see that.

But it is still only June, before the schools close for summer holidays and before the beach becomes the realm of picnicking families, kite flyers, B-B-Q parties, off road vehicles, boisterous ball games and uncontrolled dogs. Hopefully, by then the birds will have managed to nurture their chicks to a reasonable size. That is if they don’t get harassed or killed by large gulls, foxes, hedgehogs, kestrels, and if the adults can evade marauding hobbies. Hopefully the weather will stay warm and sunny, and the sea remain calm. A summer storm with easterly winds will prove disastrous.  And if the chicks do fledge, they will have to run the gauntlet of the long journey to African wintering grounds, and back again in 2 years’ time for a breeding attempt of their own.

The reason for the portacabin, the loo, the small group of uniformed RSPB people keeping a 24-hour watch over the colony, and indeed for our visit, is to revel in the spectacle of being close to the Little Terns, something like 300 pairs of them. These diminutive sea birds are amongst our rarest, measuring only 10 inches and weighing just a few ounces. They choose to visit a small number of beaches around the UK every summer to raise their young. They are very vulnerable to disturbance, often deserting a colony entirely if something upsets them. We East Anglian are fortunate to be able to host colonies of this yellow-billed sea swallow, but human protection is vital for their long-term survival.

We stand away from the colony to watch the adults fishing for sand eels in the shallow inshore waters. Many birds are hunting very close to the shoreline, hovering a few yards above the water looking for the silvery flash of prey below. Once they spot something, their wings fold as they dive arrowlike onto their prey. Some are successful in catching small fish just offshore, an efficient way of feeding your prodigy; others elect to try their luck further out, many returning with a sizeable catch firmly wedged in their bright beaks.

We watch some birds engaging in courtship on the beach, whereby the male will offer a glimmering, freshly caught fish to its mate. Overhead, others are engaging in aerial chases of amazing speed and agility. As the tide recedes, a group gather on an exposed sand bank to bathe and preen, and all around the pure white elegance and pleasant calls of the adult birds add vitality to the scene.  

Without warning, a large group of birds silently take to the air, shimmering light and dark as they twist and turn over the sea. This phenomenon known as a ‘dread’ seems to happen for no discernible reason, certainly no predator seems to be the cause. The sudden silence is quite eerie, making us realise how much background calling and screeching accompanies our visit. The birds return after a short flight to resume their activities, the colony none the worse for this invisible interruption.

It’s not just the terns that are using the beach and shoreline as a summer home. Ringed Plovers forlornly pipe an alarm from the edge of the colony. They are difficult to pick up against the expanse of uniform sand, especially when the strong sunlight reflects into our eyes. Their movement gives them away, scurrying around us from a safe distance. They must have chicks lying motionless amongst the pebbles, we watch out step until out of range.

Young grey seals, no doubt part of the large breeding colony favouring this part of the coast during winter, are still present in the shallows, their inquisitive nature bringing them close to shore. Stranger, and least expected, is the appearance of a rather ragged immature male Eider preening himself on the beach. He is apparently a fixture of this summer and is looking quite the worse for wear as he moults. This bird has become quite tolerant of people, but will understandably take to the water when dogs approach too close. Just another character that makes this experience so enjoyable.

Little Terns are a Schedule 1 species under the Wildlife and Countryside Act, which affords them special protection. Essentially, it is illegal to deliberately disturb them, something of a dichotomy on a public beach. Rejoice then that a nationwide partnership project has been set up to protect these feisty birds around our shores. Putting a fence around the colony, scaring off predatory gulls and having excellent folk on hand to look after them around the clock has proven so valuable. These dedicated nature lovers also perform an essential role of providing the public with information about the birds. By engaging in this way, slowly people will begin to understand just how fragile existence is for these creatures, and how the simple act of controlling dogs and keeping your distance can make all the difference to their wellbeing.

Wardened Little Tern colonies can be found around the country. If you are lucky enough to live close to one of these, I urge you to make a visit. The colony we are lucky enough to have on our doorstep is at Winterton in Norfolk, but there are others scattered around the UK. Some useful information can be found here. The colonies are active from May through to the August, and if you go make sure you respect the needs of the birds, don’t approach too closely and stay outside any barriers. Most importantly keep your dogs on a short lead. Make time to speak to the volunteers on duty, they will be all too willing to provide you with information and if possible allow you to gaze through their telescopes so as to get a real close up view of the birds. Watch the graceful flight of these streamlined migrants, observe them fishing within yards of where you stand. Above all, be grateful that caring people allow such wonders of nature to continue to share our beaches and our consciousness every summer.