Norfolk is known as a birdwatchers’ paradise, with some people describing it as the birding capital of Britain. The county gets this reputation due to the variety and sheer numbers of species that you can see in the area – both resident and migrants – and the rare birds that often arrive.
And if Norfolk is a hotspot for birders, it makes sense that photographers flock (pun intended) to its nature reserves and diverse habitats to point their lenses at the wildlife.
So, while spending a week celebrating family birthdays in nearby Brancaster, I jumped at the opportunity to spend a couple of hours at the RSPB’s Titchwell Marsh Nature Reserve. Well, after lugging the camera down from Glasgow on the train, it would have been rude not to.
Meandering alongside the marshes
Titchwell Marsh is nestled between two villages on the north Norfolk coast. The unassuming car park surrounded by trees doesn’t prepare you for the huge variety of habitats and wildlife that await you when you step out onto the reserve. Walking as slowly as possible along the West Bank path from the Visitor Centre to the beach, I tried to take in the assault on my senses. Reedbeds gave way to the freshwater marsh, then out to the saltwater marshes, and finally, at the end of the path, we reached the sands of the windswept beach. The path is also bordered by Thornham Marsh, where hundreds of geese and gulls fed while a pair of buzzards wheeled in the distance.
My partner commented he’d never seen a nature reserve so busy. It was the first week of the Easter school holidays, and there was a constant stream of people walking the path. Some stopping off at the hides, others, like us, simply enjoying being in the wide open space and spotting birds as we walked. Uniting everyone’s stroll was the soundtrack: the constant clamour of black-headed gulls.
The weather was perfect for a walk – bright and breezy with hardly a cloud in the sky. For photography, however, the harsh sunlight reflected off the water, the vegetation waving in the wind, and the heat haze made life trickier. I spent a few minutes watching what I thought was a redshank, to find out when I processed the image and reduced some of the effects of the glare that it was, in fact, my first ruff. Only a few pairs of this wading bird breed in the UK, but some are present year-round. The bird I saw was quite different to the images I’d seen of the males during the breeding season – displaying dramatically with puffed-up ruffs of brightly coloured feathers around their necks. In comparison, this was a plain-looking wader, with a longish neck and small head – which is why I mistook it for a redshank.
I also mistakenly identified a ringed plover, until I checked the screen of my camera and noticed the distinctive yellow eye-ring that confirmed it was a little ringed plover that I spotted feeding in the mud. These little waders forage like other plovers. Their approach for catching invertebrates and crustaceans is to stand and watch, run forward, peck, then stand still again. Little ringed plovers arrive in England and Wales in mid-March and leave again in July, so I felt lucky to see one.
The avocets were much easier to identify from a distance. I’ve wanted to photograph these birds for many years. And while my photos and footage won’t be winning any awards, it was a delight to witness their “scything” feeding technique, sweeping their distinctive upturned bills side-to-side through shallow water to capture prey. This method helps them sieve for small invertebrates in the mud or water.
Wander for a gander
We headed back to the reedbeds as flocks of brent geese flew overhead. These winter visitors from the high-Arctic arrive on Norfolk’s marshes and coasts in their thousands. The smallest of our geese – they are only slightly bigger than mallard ducks – they are also our most coastal goose species with seaweed and eel-grass their main source of food. Again, it wasn’t easy to photograph them flying into bright sunlight as they made their way over to graze on the marsh.
The Fen Trail and the hides that overlooked the reedbeds were quieter and we were serenaded by an unusually confiding chiffchaff. I’m familiar with trying to find and photograph these birds when they are singing loudly while being hidden from view in vegetation, that it was quite a shock when this individual posed in an exposed spot for longer than a split second.
An all-too brief sighting of a distant marsh harrier was a Titchwell Marsh highlight, but I had to settle with a pair of gadwalls when it came to capturing images over the gloriously peaceful Patsy’s reedbed. The stillness in the sun only momentarily disturbed by a fighter jet passing overhead. And, with that, it was time to leave the reserve.
Oh, deer!
Being ready to shoot is critical, particularly when you’re at a new location and not sure of where and when your next subject will pop up. This is advice I share often in my posts, so I was infuriated with myself when I committed the sin of putting my camera back in the bag as we headed up the path away from the reserve buildings towards the car park. My eagle-eyed partner spotted the chestnut coloured body moving in the undergrowth a short distance away.
A muntjac deer, perfectly camouflaged in the shadows away from the harsh sunlight, moved in and out of view as she browsed amongst the vegetation. All the while moving away from us as I fumbled to get my camera back out of the bag as quickly and quietly as possible while trying to shadow her steps. While I silently cursed, the doe disappeared behind a large log as I was finally ready to shoot, and it seemed that the moment had slipped away. Then, her head popped up, ears pricked. She had caught the scent of a couple walking a dog on the lead along the path behind us. And with that, she was gone, but not before I captured one frame of her looking into the lens.
Our muntjac moment was the perfect end to this introduction to the wildlife of north Norfolk. We only spent a couple of hours at Titchwell Marsh but I imagine you could spend every day there and never get bored. I was certainly spoilt for choice for subjects to point my lens at and, like the many migrant species that land there every year, I hope to find my way back to the north Norfolk coast soon.
Looking for a local guide?
If you’re looking for a guided trip to photograph Norfolk’s wildlife, there are plenty of options. Having done an online course with him previously, I would recommend David Tipling’s teaching if you want someone with a vast knowledge of the area who can also advise you on how to capture something a bit different.