Colin Rees and Derek Thomas
Colin Rees is a biodiversity specialist with a life-long passion for birds, beginning his career on the faculty at the University of Maryland. He then returned to the UK before joining the Asian Development Bank, Manila, as its first environment specialist. Subsequently, he was a Division Chief in the Department of Environment at the World Bank in Washington DC. Since retirement, he has consulted for the World Bank, the Inter-American Development Bank and the African Development Bank in supporting conservation efforts in their member countries.
In Manila, he helped found the Haribon Foundation for the Conservation of Natural Resources and co-authored Birds of the Philippines. Currently, he is President of the Anne Arundel Bird Club and works closely with the Maryland Ornithological Society helping promote conservation in the State of Maryland. He lives in Annapolis with his wife Valerie and dog Zorba and retires often to their retreat in the Cotswolds.
Derek Thomas was educated at Imperial College London and spent his professional life as a mathematician, but has also had a lifelong interest and involvement in natural history. Now retired, he is fully occupied as a nature conservationist. He has served at a local and national level in many guises with a variety of organization including The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, The British Trust for Ornithology and The Royal Society of Wildlife Trusts. Recently retired as Chairman of Wildlife Trusts Wales and as a trustee of the Royal Society of Wildlife Trusts, he continues to work at a national level in the UK. Passionate about rainforests, Derek is presently the UK representative for the Smithsonian Institutions Bird Friendly Coffee Program and is engaged in an educational campaign to promote shade-grown coffee in the UK.
Derek has also worked in the USA, spending a sabbatical year at the University of Maryland in the early 1970s where his interest in North American birds began. He visits the USA frequently. He lives on the Gower peninsula in Wales with his wife Pranee.
Author news
The first two entries.
1st January
Light, Lighthouse, and Waterfowl
Dawn is breaking, the fog is slowly lifting in the eerie light of the rising sun, and the mildness of the morning is a welcome relief from the icy conditions of last week. Canada geese cackle from our creek and the calls of American crows echo in the woodland neighboring the house. I hear American robins calling in the holly trees, and from afar, a Carolina wren sings a cheery tea-kettle, tea-kettle, tea-kettle. Its a heartening start to the New Year.
I visit Thomas Point, a wooded spit of land protruding out into the Chesapeake Bay just south of Annapolis. Offshore stands the historic Thomas Point Shoal Light, the most recognized lighthouse in Maryland. Its the only screw-pile lighthouse remaining in the Bay, and its hexagonal wooden cottage is hauntingly reflected in the glassy water. Ships large and small glide by, and gulls cry out in the mist merging sky into water. On the Point, a few yellow-rumped warblers invade an oak tree, and a yellow-bellied sapsucker teases food from the bark.
At midday the winter sun casts vague shadows, and offshore a brown pelican flies effortlessly, close to the water, and disappears to the south. I scour the distant water for more and discover a few hundred surf scoters swimming and bobbing in tight flocks. Known as skunkhead-duck, their heavy, sloping bills make them seem front-heavy. In a small cove several dozen canvasbacks circle between piers; some dive, others call in the fashion of a strangled crow. A few redheads circle with them, but remain silent. Unlike the vertical dives of the canvasbacks, to search for food they adopt a forward lurch and sometimes dabble in shallower water. Joining them are greater and lesser scaup, bufflehead, common goldeneye, and a single, elegant, long-tailed duck (oldsquaw). The long-tailed duck is very vocal providing a melodious yodeling. Without warning, the ducks suddenly patter, run along the surface, and take flight for a neighboring cove.
In the evening, I sit before a log fire peering at activities around the birdfeeders. A few northern cardinal pipe up with a what-cheer cheer cheer. The cries of Canada geese echo along the creek and continue throughout much of the evening as a foggy blanket returns and cloaks the first night of the year.
New Years Day Bird Race
For many years its been a New Years Day tradition of the Gower Ornithological Society to hold a fun competition to see who can log up the most birds during the day. Sadly, this seems to have lapsed in recent years and we couldnt muster up enough enthusiasts to hold it again this year. Traditionally we would enter in teams of four, enough to each fill a car, head off at dawn, and finish at dusk. Boundaries where strictly defined, and each team was encouraged to minimize the distance travelled. The meeting in the pub afterwards to gloat, commiserate, or congratulate was often the best part.
This year, I manage to persuade three friends to join in a one-team race. With the certain knowledge of victory, we set out at first light to see what we can find, knowing that this years event will spend minimal carbon. As we head off for the foreshore, a tawny owl calling by the meeting point is a great start. Waders quickly get the list moving, and as the sun rises, woodland and urban species are easily picked up. The rules allow sounds as well as sightings to be counted, and so in no time at all most of the common birds are accounted for. The real challenge is to find the scarce ones.
In the small wintering flock of sanderlings on Oxwich Beach, one is color ringed. Bright red and yellow bands on each leg, with a green flag on the right leg, make the little white wader stand out amongst the 20 or so others scurrying about the sand. The local birding grapevine will no doubt soon find out the origin of this very special bird.
Common scoters offshore remind me of much colder, but happy, winter days at Ocean City in Delaware, where white-winged scoters and flocks of common loons fed in the breakwater by the harbor wall. Im also reminded of a pair of harlequin ducks there too, a bird until then I had only dreamed of.
The day progresses and were proud of our great northern diver, purple sandpipers, woodcock, and hen harrier, but search as we may theres not a hint of a grey wagtail or dipper. As dusk approaches, we gradually realize that luxuries such as short-eared and little owls are too much to ask for and we retire to lick our wounds inside the warmth of a local watering house and tot up the not-bad total of 89 species.
It was a day of no real conservation value, but one of fellowship, fun, and enthusiasm for the New Year ahead.
