Flamborough Head | Calumsblog

Exploring Flamborough Head

On the 20th April 2022, during the Easter break, I decided to travel by train to Flamborough Head on the Yorkshire Coast, south of Scarborough to see the nesting seabirds on the cliffs here. I took my tent and wild-camped, giving me time to explore more of the headland than just Bempton Cliffs, including some gorgeous bluebell woodlands. Now I'm going to take you along on that journey.

Rather than disembarking the train at Bempton to go straight to the cliffs, I instead arrived at the earlier stop of Bridlington, just to the south of Flamborough Head. My train arrived at 3pm, and I hiked to the coast and then northward across the headland towards Bempton Cliffs.

Bridlington is a coastal town in Yorkshire, which was evidently quite a touristy spot when I arrived in the middle of a sunny day. I can see why, it's very pretty at the front, with a beautiful beach down to the sea, and a promenade including a ferris wheel and lots of shops.

I was in no rush, so took my time meandering northwards along the beach at the side of town, taking in the views and seeing what I could find.

I hadn't even gotten to the cliffs before I saw my first seabirds!

Between two piers towards the south end of Bridlington Beach is the outflow of Gypsey Race, a winterbourne stream (one that is mostly dry throughout summer) that flows here from its source around the Great Wold Valley. While there wasn't much flow to be seen in summer, its outflow area on the beach was noticeably more estuarine than elsewhere, forming a rocky, muddy habitat in which coastal invertebrates could thrive. Of course, this attracted wading seabirds, which also seemed to enjoy foraging close to the shelter of the two piers.

While I did spot a common redshank (Tringa totanus) probing the mud a bit further out, the stars of the show were foraging immediately around me, often less than 5m away from where I was standing on the beach. These are turnstones (Arenaria interpres), a wide-ranging bird species that spends the summers in northern Europe, Asia, and North America, and migrates south, often over vast distance in winter, being found in coastal regions as far as New Zealand at that time of year. Turnstones are seabirds which like to hunt, as the name suggests, by flipping over stones on the beach to get to the invertebrates hiding underneath, foraging in small flocks for increased vigilance among them to warn each other of predators. Often small periwinkles and amphipods are their prey, though they may also find and raid the nests of other birds to feast on their eggs.

Here in Bridlington, the turnstones seemed used to people and weren't much bothered by me crouching right down nearly against the mud to get some photos while they foraged around me, though the people up on the promenade seemed a bit confused.

Continuing north along the coast from Bridlington, I came up from the beach to walk along the growing clifftops as the land extended eastward towards Flamborough Head. I hiked via the golf course at Sewerby, with great views back to Bridglington before coming round to Dykes End.

Approaching Dykes End, I noticed a flurry of birds around the cliffs here. The fast and agile movements of sand martins (Riparia riparia) added a lot of energy and movement to the scenery. These birds are summer visitors to the UK, migrating all the way to the other side of the Sahara in Africa to spend the winter. Sand martins build tunnels in cliffsides to nest in, usually riverbanks as these are formed of easily excavated sediment, but oceanic cliffs such as here can be used when they're workable. On the cliffs here their nests were near the top, above the rock on the upper soily parts.

Also on the upper sediment of these cliffs, nesting on ledges stabilised by grass, fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis) were looking up at me curiously. These birds appear somewhat gull-like at first, especially in plumage colouration, but have a very different wing shape evident in flight, and unusual beaks. While gulls have an arch to their wings in flight, hence the common shape for drawing distance birds on artwork, fulmars hold their wings very straight, to a degree which looks almost unnatural, making them surprisingly easy to recognise even at some distance. Fulmars also have a very specialised bill: they are a member of the Procellariiformes bird order, along with others such as albatrosses and petrels, and are all sometimes collectively known as tubenoses due to their shared trait of specialised naricorns (basically nostrils), which form a nasal passage attached to the upper bill. Along with this, their defensive behaviour is quite unusual, as I found out once when accidentally finding a fulmar breeding colony on Lindisfarne. Fulmars can produce a stomach oil made of wax esters and triglycerides, and this can be sprayed out of their mouths as a deterrence for predators (though it can also be a food source for chicks). It is the spray that actually gives fulmars their name, deriving from the Old Norse 'Fúlmár', roughly translating to 'foul gull' due to their gull-like appearance and ability to fire this foul-smelling oil at people. Luckily these ones on Flamborough Head looked more curious than defensive, and were likely used to people peering over the well-walked clifftop path here.

At Dykes End I was able to head back down to the beach via a small bay formed by a stream which was currently dried up. This is where I got my first views of the awesome geology of this part of Yorkshire, which is very unusual for northern England. The UK's geology is somewhat striped, with bands of similar types and ages of rock running roughly southwest-northeast, with the southeast having the youngest bands and the northwest having the oldest, a result of erosion of upper (younger) layers being eroded away more as the northwest was uplifted in orogenic events, more affected by the geological activity in the formation of the Atlantic Ocean, and more affected by glaciation. However, this trend isn't a rule. The famous chalk of the White cliffs of Dover in Dorset continue as a band of chalk formations inland to the northeast, hence the chalk streams around Cambridgeshire, reaching the east coast around Norfolk, but then the band hooks around a little to include the southern parts of Yorkshire, such as Flamborough Head's gorgeous white chalk cliffs. Flamborough Head is mostly formed from the Burnham Chalk Formation, with some outcrops of the Welton Chalk Formation on its north-western coast. These are Cretaceous chalks, formed in warm and shallow seas when the Earth's climate was warmer and the UK was located further south; a perfect habitat for phytoplankton, particularly coccolithophores, to thrive. Coccolithophores are single-celled organisms which cover themselves in a calcium carbonate shell called a coccosphere, and they can live in such high abundances in the sea that, in places, their remains can build up and fossilise to form the masses of calcium carbonate-based chalk we find today.

From Dykes End I headed northward, going inland and across the headland to the other side along a feature known as Dane's Dyke, which unsurprisingly ends at Dykes End in the south, and traverses the whole headland, meeting the north coast at the clifftops by Cat Nab. Despite being named for the Danes, Dane's Dyke is an earthwork across Flamborough Head that is actually thought to be Bronze Age in origin due to finds such as worked flint flakes. This dyke would have helped in defence of Flamborough Head to the west, while every other side is well-protected by sea cliffs, making any settlements on this headland very defensible. The dyke would have been such a useful feature that it is thought to have been reused throughout the ages well into the Iron Age and possibly beyond, being used to help defend, for example, nearby Roman Forts.

The southern stretch of Dane's Dyke is also within a nature reserve named after it, which largely includes a little woodland in a stream valley which the dyke clings to the eastern side of. When I went through this woodland in April, in the late afternoon sun, the woodland floor was vibrant and blooming with a variety of gorgeous woodland wildflowers including primroses (Primula vulgaris), bluebells (Hyacinthoides non-scripta), wild garlic (Allium ursinum), red campion (Silene dioica), early purple orchid (Orchis mascula), and even introduced Londonpride saxifrage (Saxifraga × urbium), along with some gorgeous unfurling fronds of lady fern (Athyrium filix-femina). I could talk about each of these individually, but I think the photos of these amazing flower patches mostly speak for themselves. I would, though, like to point out the white and pinkish varieties of bluebells, a genetic mutation that can occur naturally, although it is also often a sign of hybridisation with the invasive Spanish bluebell (Hyacinthoides hispanica). Also, lady fern's name is an unusual one: it's name comes about due to its apparently stereotypically 'feminine' features, such as its reproductive structures being concealed and inconspicuous on the fronds, along with its elegant and graceful appearance compared to the much more robust male fern (Dryopteris filix-mas). Trust people to include even plants in their human stereotypes.

Further north along Dane's Dyke, on either side of Flamborough Road, I saw a total of three roe deer (Capreolus capreolus). There was a pair on the south side of the road, though the doe was a little too skittish for a photo, and a lone buck north of the road who I managed to snap a photo of between the trees. Unlike red deer (Cervus elaphus) renowned for their huge antlers, roe deer don't grow antlers more than 30cm long which usually only branch into about three or four points, though they are still used for competitive duels between males in rut.

The further north I headed along Dane's Dyke, the less it felt like an ancient defensive structure in a nature-filled woodland and the more it became just a linear mound and hedge at the edge of farmers' fields. Due to this, at around 6:30pm, I decided to come away from the dyke though a small field in order to come out on Bempton Lane. It was barely 100m to do this, but I still managed to spot a pair of curlews (Numenius arquata) in this field, with their distinctive curved beaks for probing the ground (normally coastal mudflats) for invertebrates to eat. They were silhouetted in the evening light among shining blades of grass, and looked very majestic from my low position beneath a hedge.

From the road, I headed to Bempton Village, spotting more deer in the fields as I went, and then turned northwards again along Cliff Lane to Bempton Cliffs.

Along the way on Cliff Lane, with beautiful sunlight colours imbuing everything with warmth, I also spotted quite a few songbirds, including one of the best sightings I've ever had of a yellowhammer (Emberiza citrinella). Yellowhammers are in a family of passerine birds more well-known as buntings (Emerizidae), with this species in particular being famous for its bright yellow plumage and bold, characteristic song, inspiring tunes on Beethoven's music and appearing in a Robbie Burns poem, though my favourite yellowhammer poem is by John Clare:

'In early spring, when winds blow chilly cold,

The yellowhammer, trailing grass, will come

To fix a place and choose an early home,

With yellow breast and head of solid gold.'

By the time I reached the north coast of Flamborough Head, at Bempton Cliffs, it was 7:40pm. The sun was setting in the west, and the kittiwakes were settling in for sleep. Kittiwakes (Rissa tridactyla) are gull-like seabirds, and, unlike fulmars, are closely related to gulls, being in the gull family - Laridae. They appear a lot more delicate than other gulls, being small and somewhat more timid than the gulls of seaside, and even inland towns and settlements. They are instead more pelagic then other gulls, the true 'seagull', spending almost all their time out over the open ocean hunting for fish, only coming ashore to nest on shear sea cliffs such as here at Bempton. Kittiwakes are particularly known for their typical call, after which they are named (it supposedly sounds like 'kit-ti-wake'), although they also have different calls during courtship and when warning each other about predators. They also stand out among gulls for their agile and playful flight, with fast wing beats and many flips and loops as though playing with the wind, unlike the much broader and more steady flight of other gulls.

However, not everyone was ready for bed yet, and the cliffs were still bustling with activity, and a cacophony of seabird calls. Gannets were still finding materials to buld their nests, gillemots squabbled on the cliffside, and puffins... well the puffins were just sort-of chilling out.

After the sun had set and night was setting in, I wandered east along the clifftop path to the place where Dane's Dyke meets the northern edge of Flamborough Head at Dykes End (north). On the way, at dusk, I found a little reed bunting (Emberiza schoeniclus) among the long grass. A close relative of the yellowhammer, both being in the bunting family, reed buntings aren't as strikingly coloured, but the black head with contrasting white collar of this species' males make it quite distinctive. It's genus name (Emberiza), which in turn gives its name to the whole bunting family (Emberizidae), was given by Carl Linnaeus, though he originally placed reed buntings in the same genus as chaffinches (Fringilla) as all buntings were originally thought to be more closely associated with finches than currently known. This word is a Latinised version of the Old German word 'embritz', meaning 'bunting' which in turn is thought to be derived from even older form of High German such as 'emmer' and 'amari', referring to a variety of wheat, possibly from the Latin 'amylum' - starch/gruel, in reference to buntings' tendency for feeding on corn.

After this sighting, I pitched my tent in a nearby woodland and spent the night with distant sounds of the seabirds at the cliffs, and the occasional fox 'bark' (more like a weird yell).

I got up and packed my tent away for 5:30am the next morning in order to watch sunrise over the North Sea, and it was one of the most gorgeous sunrises I have ever seen.

The razorbills were already up at this point, carrying out their... uh... morning activities. Razorbills (Alca torda) are in the auk bird family: Alcidae, which includes puffins and guillemots too. Birds in this family are superficially penguin-like, with an upright posture, dark back and pale front, but they are not closely related to penguins and have just convergently evolved similarly to penguins due to their shared marine fish hunting lifestyle, though most auks (excluding the extinct great auk) have retained the ability to fly, enabling cliff nesting as seen here, unlike penguins. Razorbills in particular are my favourite auk, even above puffins, due to their smart black-and-white plumage (in comparison, the black on common guillemot is more like a dark grey), and detailed beaks with a distinctive line from eye to bill-tip, and a white line across the beak. Even the inside of their mouths looks pretty, being a bright yellow colour that can be seen when they open their mouths to call.

Meanwhile the gannets (Morus bassanus) were busy preening themselves and collecting nesting materials. It's amazing how close they will come when gathering vegetation from the tops of the cliffs, sometimes right beside where I'm standing. These birds may seem gull-like at first glance, but are quite evidently not gulls, and are in fact more closely related to cormorants. Gannets are among the largest birds on these cliffs (though an albatross was spotted here around the time I was there, I just didn't find it), with a wingspan of nearly 2m. They have long and slender white wings with black tips (though juveniles have darker plumage), and a distinctive yellowish head and pale blue-grey eyes and beak. This species also have an interesting form of sexual dimorphism (differences between males and females due to courtship behaviour, e.g. male deer with antlers to fight over mates, or peacocks with colourful tails to impress females) whereby the males have yellow-green lines running down the front of their legs and along their toes, while females' foot-lines are more bluish. It is thought these have some role in courtship and mating, but the behaviour surrounding it isn't currently fully known.

After sunrise, and some amazing views over the bird colonies on the cliffs towards the arch at Scale Nab, I headed westward for a while, taking in everything I could find along the way. Despite the sunny start to the day, it had become much misty by 7am, but that just made my sighting of a linnet (Linaria cannabina) on a nearby fence look that much cooler. Through the haze I could also see over to the old disused RAF station at Bempton, where a pheasant (Phasianus colchicus) stood surprisingly majestically on top.

As I headed north, I also spotted a whitethroat (Curruca communis) in the gloom, and also a tree sparrow (Passer montanus),distinguished from the much more common house sparrows due to their chestnut-brown cap rather than grey. The mist here also made the clifftop flowers look especially good, retaining water droplets as seen in my photos of red deadnettle (Lamium purpureum), though there was also some very pretty red campion (Silene dioica) and common scurveygrass (Cochlearia officinalis) flowers on the clifftops too.

Looking over the cliffs along this route, it was very evident that the most abundant cliff-nesting bird here was the common guillemot (Uria aalge), another auk similar to razorbills but much plainer. Like razorbills, these birds are found feeding on fish in oceans at northern latitudes, only coming ashore to nest on cliffsides.

While looking higher up near the tops of the cliffs, I also noticed a fair few puffins (Fratercula arctica) too, though with much less abundance than the other seabirds here. Puffins are the most famous of the auks, renowned for their large and colourful beak which can hold multiple fish at a time. In order to do this, puffins also have a muscular and grooved tongue to hold the first fish in place as it catches more, and a specialised hinge to its mandibles in order to hold them open parallel (otherwise each fish would have to be sequentially larger to fit in the triangular gape). Because puffins' bill colours are involved in mate selection, they can actually moult away the bill coating and also their orange eye ornamentation outside of the breeding season and grow them back the next spring, though puffins are rarely seen this way as they live solitary lives hunting out at sea when not nesting. Puffins stay higher up on the cliffs as they don't make nests on ledges like the other auks on Flamborough Head, but rather actually dig burrow in the banks at the tops of the cliffs, nesting below ground.

Not only did I spot puffins on the high cliffs walking west along Bempton Cliffs, I also saw them swimming on the sea in Thornwick Bay to the east, which I arrived at what felt like much later in the day (it actually wasn't even 10am at this point).

Walking along from Bempton Cliffs to Thornwick Bay, I also saw more roe deer and a variety of passerine birds too; but I want to point out two excellent examples I found of the UK's most abundant convergently evolved roly-polies:

Roly-poly is a more American term for what we would call pill bugs, specifically referring to the Armadilliidae family of isopods (woodlice). However, roly-poly is often used more broadly to refer to a paraphyletic grouping of similar species that have evolved to roll into a ball for protection similarly to pill bugs. In the UK, this includes the pill millipedes too, which are millipedes in the superorder Oniscomorpha (Oniscus is a genus of woodlouse isopod, so this pretty much translates to the woodlouse-shaped millipedes). These two unrelated groups of isopods (woodlice) and myriapods (millipedes and centipedes [think: myriad - many, pods - legs]) have convergently evolved similar morphology allowing them to be capable of volvation (rolling into a ball) for defence, and also live similar lifestyles - being detritivores on dead plant material.

On Flamborough Head I came across the UK's two most common roly-polies, one from the woodlice and the other from the millipedes. I find these both frequently, but thought it was worth sharing from this trip as the pill millipede was out this time, while they often roll into balls and stay that way as soon as I find them, unlike the more confident pill woodlice. These two species are, unsurprisingly, common pill millipede (Glomeris marginata), and common pill woodlouse (Armadillidium vulgare), which can easily be distinguished between for a variety of features, but especially the pill millipede's much darker black exoskeleton compared to pill woodlouse's greys, in parallel to my comparison of razorbill and guillemot plumage earlier.

By around 10am I was already heading back along the cliffs, arriving at the station at Bempton for the train at roughly 12pm. Along the way back I took my time, watching the seabirds some more and finding a few more passerine birds: greenfinch, wren, meadow pipit, etc, and also found a drinker moth caterpillar. However the highlight of the walk back to the station was even smaller than that:

Just as I was turning away from the coastal clifftops to start walking into Bempton, which is a little way inland, I noticed a little red beetle crawling on the ground. It was very ladybird-like, but not a ladybird I had seen before. This is a 24-spot ladybird (Subcoccinella vigintiquatuorpunctata), a species whose spot-count can actually vary from 20-26, and often have merged spots. The one I found actually had 20 spots, with the largest pair on each side also being merged into a large black splodge. Despite not always living up to its 24-spot namesake, this ladybird is still quite recognisable, with a slightly more elongate, less-rounded body than more common ladybirds, and a coating of short pale hairs on the elytra (shell) making it appear less shiny than many other ladybirds too. Unlike more typical ladybirds, Subcoccinella vigintiquatuorpunctata is also a vegetarian species rather than an aphid-eater; its larvae feed on fungal mycelia and the adults on vegetation.

That was my trip to Flamborough Head, hope the read was interesting and enjoyable.