From a distance, the Ingleborough massif appears monolithic, a lump of limestone with a gritstone cap, looming above Ribblesdale and Chapel-le-Dale like some vast lion petrified in the act of waking. Up close and personal, it’s a complex mosaic of habitats, and it’s this complexity that could support three breeding birds we’re targeting for help: black grouse, ring ouzel and curlew.

Black grouse

The black grouse (Tetrao tetrix), although nominally a grouse, is more closely related to the capercaillie than the far more common red grouse. It is larger than the red and much more striking. The male is black all over (an especially blue-black around the neck) except for blossoms of white on his undertail and shoulders, and a vivid splash of red over his eyes. This plumage is the reason for the alternate name, black cock. A long, lyre-shaped tail is raised to attract mates and intimidate rivals, and puts that contrasting white undertail on striking display; the show is accompanied by a soft, bubbling croon. This mating behaviour is known as the lekking and takes place in the spring at long-established lek sites.

The female, also known as the grey or brown hen, is more subtle, demure, less striking but arguably more elegant. She is smaller, with cryptic grey-brown plumage, to help conceal her on the nest, and a blunt fork to her tail. The hens gather to watch the cocks display and fight, vying for the females’ attention.

These are moorland fringe birds; their populations are greatest where moorland and  woodland meet. Their long decline can be traced to loss of habitat, where upland forest has been cleared for grazing. Sadly, I have never seen a black grouse – I hope this will change with my involvement in Wild Ingleborough.

Ring ouzel

Surely the handsomest of the thrush family, the ring ouzel (Turdus torquatus) replaces the blackbird in the uplands. Indeed, many of its regional names reflect this – mountain blackbird (across the North Riding), crag ouzel (Craven), tor ouzel (Devon) and, in Orkney, hill chack. This last is a reference to its alarm call, which is similar to that of the blackbird itself and that other large thrush, the fieldfare. Ouzel itself is derived from the Old English name for the blackbird osle.At the risk of overusing the word “striking”, the adult male is a striking fellow and echoes the monochrome theme of the black grouse. His plumage is black, with silver grey edges to the feathers on his breast and underwing coverts giving him an almost scaled appearance. Below his bright yellow beak, he has a distinctive white crescent around his throat like an armoured gorget of old.

The female echoes this but in brown and white rather than black and white. For me, it’s always been a great thrill to see these flashing across the moor, perhaps after my attention has been drawn by the rattling tac-tac-tac of that alarm call.

Curlew

Another summer visit (albeit only to the uplands, rather than the UK; they overwinter at our coast), the curlew is our largest wader. Its liquid, bubbling call is somehow joyous and melancholic at the same time; how do they do that? Even with that mournful hint, the call of the curlew (Numenius arquata) is a welcome counterpoint, for our Yorkshire Peat Partnership colleagues, to the endless, one-note lament of the golden plover. And this call is issued by both male and females throughout the year, rippling out across the moors and shores, and is absolutely one of my favourite sounds of Yorkshire’s uplands.

In English folklore, the curlew often featured as the bird in the flight of the seven whistlers: a spectral night-flight of seven birds whose eerie song was considered a harbinger of death. Once you’ve actually seen a curlew, this seems frankly daft. As distinctive as the curlew’s call is, its bill is a long, graceful curve, drooping out from its face towards the ground. It’s faintly comedic, elegant in its way, but difficult to take seriously as portent of doom. It is used to probe deep into boggy soil to extract invertebrates so I suppose for a cranefly larva, it is a portent of doom?

How our interventions will help these species

Our colleagues from Yorkshire Peat Partnership are restoring the blanket bog around Ingleborough, blocking off drainage to bring the water table close to the surface and re-wet the bog and over the next two years will be overseeing peatland restoration work on Ingleborough National Nature Reserve. This will improve foraging for curlew as the insect larvae on which they feed require wet ground conditions.

The main reason for curlew decline, though, is low breeding success, loss of breeding habitat, chick predation and nest destruction. We hope to tackle this through providing that mixed vegetation cover to give protection from predators, and changes in grazing and farm activities (i.e. timing of cutting) to reduce chances of nests being trampled and/or destroyed.

Heather and bilberry are staples for black grouse but they also need berry-bearing shrubs and trees for winter feeding; black grouse chicks mainly eat spiders and insects so we need to provide cover for these invertebrates.

Ring ouzel tend to breed on steeper sloping areas with a mix of heather, grassland and scree, typically nesting under mature heather, bilberry or bracken. For ring ouzel recovery, we want to promote tall mature heath on slopes, gullies and rocky areas, allowing natural regeneration to create a mosaic of vegetation types.

Ingleborough's diverse habitats are a lifeline for rare birds like the black grouse, ring ouzel, and curlew. Through dedicated conservation efforts, we aim to restore and protect these environments, ensuring these species thrive for generations to come. Join us in preserving this unique landscape and its incredible wildlife.