Things lekking up for the majestic black grouse in Teesdale

Teesdale’s population of black grouse is back from the brink and on the march. Trevor Brookes went along to experience the lek – a colourful mating ritual now being seen in mid-Teesdale for the first time in years


WHEN Phil Warren started working for the Game and Wildlife Conservation Trust, the black grouse was almost a goner in this country.

The iconic species was close to extinction during the mid-1990s when there were just 773 males left in England. The harsh winter of 2010 took its toll even further and the following spring conservationists could only find 500 on the fells and hillsides.
However, two years ago 1,437 males were counted at lekking sites in northern England. At these remote locations on the edges of moorland, the birds perform an early-morning elaborate courtship every spring. It’s often described as being like an operatic experience with the champion male holding his ground in the centre, puffing out his feathers and marching around in an effort to attract his hens. The lek has taken place at Langdon Beck for as long as anyone can remember but back in the mid-1990s, there were just a handful of birds to be seen each morning in April.
Not anymore. The distinctive burbling sound made by the males can be heard at a number of sites, even so far down the dale that Mickleton looms large in the zoom lenses of photographers sat by the roadside.
“These weren’t hear when I first started,” says Phil as he peers through his binoculars and marks down the numbers of black grouse on his sheet. Sitting in his 4x4 on the roadside between Eggleston and Middleton-in-Teesdale, he explains the vital importance of Teesdale in the black grouse story.
“150 years ago, they were present in every county in England. You could see them on people’s doorstep but now if you want to see them, you have to come to places like Teesdale,” says Phil, a research scientist. “If you went back in time in lowland Britain, you wouldn’t recognise the place, but in upper Teesdale things on whole haven’t changed that much. That’s the difference.”
Where Bournemouth town hall now stands there was once one of the best black grouse lek sites in the country.
It’s all down to the loss of their habitat, which fortunately for Teesdale locals is still present in traditional farming areas seen in the North Pennines, Yorkshire Dales, Cumbria and Scotland. The birds need heather, a small clump of trees here and there and rough grassland – the sort of environment seen frequently in the uplands.
However, much of the heather of lowland Britain has been lost. That’s in contrast to Teesdale where it survives because of the interest of shooting estates, Phil says. Predator control undertaken by gamekeepers also aids them.
“The low input, low output farming on the hills are perfect for black grouse,” he adds.
And what’s good for the grouse, is good for the gander, so to speak. The black grouse is seen as an indicator species, meaning that if it’s doing well, the chances are other rare wildlife will be in a healthy state.
“Curlew, snipe and redwing are all on the ‘red list’ but they’re doing well in Teesdale. The stability of black grouse in this area is very valuable in showing that things are pretty stable here,” Phil says.
“This place is very important nationally. The numbers in the upper dale are the highest since when we started in the 1990s.”
Work undertaken in recent years includes planting pockets of woodland, improving habitat and transferring males to other areas. It’s still not 7am and the lek is still in full swing as we head over to a rough pasture near Langdon Beck. The site acts as a natural amphitheatre, allowing the males’ calls to be heard for up to two kilometres away.
There are now so many birds that a splinter group has started a lek across the road in the hope of attracting stray hens. On this occasion, their luck was out – the female’s interest in the champion male was unwavering.
Each male defends a territory about the size of a large pick-up truck, Phil says.
He adds: “Their main aim in life is to occupy that central position on the lek. The females watch the lek and ignore the males on the outside.”
The males have such a strong attachment to their lek – they fly in at the cusp of dark and take their position.”
But today they were beaten by a lone photographer who, with permission from the farmer, set up his hide just yards away from the lek in the middle of the field when it was still dark.
The rest of us had to make do with a wound-down window about 300 yards away. And we weren’t alone because lek tourism is a growing attraction.
Tours arranged by Natural England are always sold out, says Phil, who is based at Eggleston Hall.
“Part of the reason we do it is for education but it’s also a way of telling people how to watch the lek,” he explains.
If those who turn up get out of the vehicle, the females will most likely fly away. The males will then soon give up and make their exit.
Unlike the red grouse, the black grouse isn’t shot for sport. The numbers are too few for that.
Phil has been up before dawn most mornings since the first week in April to check on population so he can report on their survival rate over the winter. He believes numbers will be a little down on 2016 but not by a huge amount.
“Black grouse is a species we should be proud off,” he says. Thanks to the work of him and his team’s work, there’s a good chance that the next generation will also be able to enjoy this bird’s odd but loveable ways for years to come.