Corncrake returns to Dooega

The return of the corncrake to Dooega


Edwin McGreal

In national school in Breaffy our principal Tom Higgins was passionate about birds and nature. Any child who passed through his hands will recall his nature walks. He would bring us to the woods on the grounds of Breaffy House or to various fields around the village.
The walks were fascinating as Tom introduced us to every conceivable bird, tree and fauna imaginable.
There was one bird we were never personally introduced to, however. Tom often talked about the corncrake and lamented the slow demise of the species. Farming practices, he told us, saw its number dwindle as its natural habitat in the centre of fields was vulnerable to increased hay cutting.
Tom often told us of the distinctive sound of the male corncrake, described as a loud ‘kerrx-kerrx’ sound. Birdwatch Ireland say it’s monotonous sound ‘qualify the bird as the world’s worst singer (and hence Eurovision song contest candidate)’.
But the call has been a welcome sign of summer for countless generations, as the cornkrake only ‘sings’ during the mating season, which runs from May to early August.
Once widespread throughout Ireland, numbers dwindled from tens of thousands in the early 1900s to only 129 recorded corncrake males in the country in 2012. In a welcome development that number grew to 185 last year.
These shy, secretive birds of hay meadows are now only found in small numbers in the Shannon Callows, north Donegal and western parts of Connacht.
Down in Dooega, on Achill Island the corncrake hadn’t been heard for decades. Last year it made a welcome return and on Sunday night I had the pleasure of hearing its distinctive sound for the first time ever.
It was coming up on midnight when I got a phonecall from my girlfriend’s brother-in-law to get down the road quick.
So I hopped in the car and headed down to a field overlooking the beach in Dooega and, despite the lashing waves nearby, we could distinctly make out the ‘kerrx-kerrx’ sound.
We moved into the field and the famous mating call stayed constant. As we got closer, it got louder, possibly due to our proximity, so we backed away.
We both recorded the noise on our iPhones and headed home, delighted with our night’s work.
But upon pulling up at my girlfriend’s house I heard the noise again. Surely it couldn’t be carrying from the same field, some 400 metres away? It wasn’t. There was a second corncrake in the field beside us.
Tom Higgins would have loved it. We definitely did. A magical encounter.