Test Tube Ticking

6th November 2018

A 'Sibe' stonechat had been present in Norfolk for a couple of weeks and mooted extensively as a possible/probable Stejneger's Stonechat - a recent split. As is currently the way, definite identification was not possible without DNA samples, which had been collected and sent off for analysis. Most birders still needed to see a 'Stej', so over the last couple of weeks many made the insurance trek. I was otherwise occupied with major personal life changes, so had put this to the back of my mind to concentrate on far more important things.

However, the bird lingered and Andy was due a visit to the office, or at least to see me, so we hatched the idea of a day's birding in Norfolk. And so it transpired. Andy came down on Monday afternoon and we managed to get just beyond Stoke before opting for a few beers and night in a Premiere Inn. Norfolk could wait just a little longer.

Next morning, slightly sore of head, we were up and out early, stopping only to briefly string a rough-legged Buzzard and then for a much needed fry-up before arriving at Salthouse at the crack of 10.30am.

The Stejneger's Stonechat was straightforward enough to see and fortuitously close (many had seen it only distantly). ID was not resolved at this stage, but the consensus was this was 'the business', which was confirmed by Doc Collinson a couple of weeks later. A full fat tick then. It was actually a rather lovely bird, somewhat whinchat like in character and often flycatching.

Steve Gantlett's much better efforts @cleybirds

Steve Gantlett's much better efforts @cleybirds

After the quick success we popped over to nearby Kelling where 5 Waxwings were looking dapper as ever.

Waxwing

We then opted to spend the rest of the day doing some gentle birding along the north Norfolk Coast, taking in Stiffkey Fen and the always wonderful Titchwell RSPB reserve. Highlights included a ringtail Hen Harrier, Red Kite, multiple Marsh Harriers, Barn Owl and a multitude of waterfowl waders including a single Purple Sandpiper, also Ruffs, Avocet, both Godwit species and so on. But the real joy is in the abundance of birds here, just magic.

Brent Geese. They make a lovely sound too.

Grey Plover, Titchwell

Common Redshank, Titchwell

Little Egret, Titchwell

Common Teal, Titchwell

Barn Owl, Titchwell. Why do Norfolk birds fly around in daylight whereas at home they're so nocturnal?

And so we headed homewards, happy with our hall and having both provided the other with much needed therapy in a difficult time. I'll forever be grateful to Andy for his support in recent weeks.

There was, however, a post script. News from Cheshire, yes I did say Cheshire, changed plans for tomorrow and so we again found ourselves in a Premiere Inn and a bar....

Flying Scilly

Wednesday 17th to Saturday 20th October 2018

Scilly has a special place in my heart. I first visited in 1986 and have returned perhaps 30 times. Hopefully I always will. Basking in the glow if the catbird success, and knowing there were both decent birds and good friends on Scilly made it a complete no brainer for Andy and I to make the short hop over from Lands End and stay for a few days. Sadly it wasn't feasible to stay on St Agnes, so we made do with Mary's.

It was to be a very odd few days, life changing in fact. However that is not the subject of this blog and I'll leave it there. That at least explains why we did less birding than intended. Socially, however, it was really good to catch up with old and valued friends Laurence Pitcher, Graham Gordon and - very briefly Lee Amery. I really need to be better at staying in touch.

Birding highlights were very brief views of the Grey-cheeked Thrush on St Agnes (found by Loz and Graham the day we arrived) and a rather splendid Melodious Warbler (my first in 10+ years, probably longer). We have a brief flyover Red-throated Pipit whilst eating soup on Agnes too, seen better by GG minutes later. That aside it was the usual combination of Yellow-browed Warblers, Black Redstarts and a scattering of commoner migrants. Pleasant although not exceptional bird-wise, but an unending pleasure to be back on the islands.

Saturday Symmetry

Tuesday 16th October, 2018

Another pre-dawn again emergence from a Premier Inn, this time at Hayle. We drove in the dark to Land's End, joining an increasing number of cars in a field next to Treve Common, almost at the very tip of the country. I'll admit to feeling far more excited about the possibility of this grip back than the previous days swift, but that comes at an emotional cost as the fear of dipping increases exponentially.

Familiar faces emerged, most of whom we'd seen the day before in sodden Hornsea. Conditions were dry and relatively mild, if a little grey.

There was a lot riding on this one. The only UK previous record of a catbird was the famous Anglesey bird in 2011. Famous for all the wrong reasons. Most of us dipped (I heard it on the Thursday, but couldn't return on Friday). Some people claimed to have seen it on the Saturday, but the debate raged on as to whether it was actually there and it depends on who you believe. Personally I believe it was there, entirely because our old friend, the utterly sincere (and much missed) Pete Antrobus saw it, and that's certainly good enough for me. However, the legend of 'Saturday Catbird' was born, and poor Pete and others never heard the end of it. It was mostly good-natured ribbing, but we birders are a sensitive lot so no doubt any pleasure derived from scoring on that fateful Saturday must have quickly dissipated with the relentlessly unbelieving by the masses.

Remarkably, today would have been Pete's birthday. Sometimes birds throw us a little poetry.

So, fatigued from another night at the wheel, Andy and I had joined a growing crown and the dawn mega vigil began. It was rather cool and birds were generally inactive, but time was starting to pass. It got lighter, and tension began to take hold. Surely not a fourth consecutive dip? 8am came. Then 9. It was looking bleak.

Then, mercifully, the cry went up and he GREY CATBIRD showed really well off and on over the next hour or two in improving weather. A marvelous bird and thoroughly enjoyable encounter. Hallelujah!

First glimpses of a proper mega! Palpable relief.

There's always something special about seeing an American landbird on this side of the Atlantic. How these tiny birds manage to survive crossing an ocean whilst being tossed around in a storm is nothing short of incredible.

On a more personal level, American passerines always send me reminiscing about my Cape May days. Catbirds were common enough as breeding birds and migrants there, so it still surprises me how much I enjoy seeing birds that I've seen so many times before. Perhaps it's just like seeing an old friend after too long an absence.

Dennis Morrison's much better effort. I love this photo (@denmor77)

We went on the spend a relaxed couple of hours with the bird and socialising, most of us exchanging tales of Anglesey ghosts and lamenting the sad loss of Pete, already two years ago.

Andy and I were somewhat exhausted after the last two days, so we ambled around Cot Valley in the now glorious Cornish sunshine, but only managed a few common migrants before fatigue took hold.

Carroll in the Cot.

It was time to celebrate, so we booked into a hotel at St Just and relaxed in the late afternoon sun with a well earned pint. Inevitably that turned into more erstwhile drinking for Andy and I. The world was put to right and plans to head over to Scilly after all were made.  

Fair Isle Unfolds - October 12th to 19th 2018

As has become a recent annual event, I was booked onto Fair Isle for a week from 12th with Andy Carroll, Phil Woollen, Mark Payne and Jase Atkinson. Despite knowing what folly it was, we (I) inevitably started watching the long range forecast and counting down the days and dreaming of magic easterlies and Siberian waifs. The closer we got to departure, the better the conditions looked. the endless recently westerly's were going to change on the very day of our arrival and the whole of our week looked pretty good. This was getting exciting. This could be the year we score big.

Then, of course, two days before departure the forecast changed spectacularly. A former hurricane (Storm Callum no less) threw the conditions completely. the westerly wind brought by Callum was so strong that we knew we wouldn't;t get across to Fair Isle on our allotted Friday. This being winter timetable meant it would be at least Monday. Or Tuesday. Things rapidly deteriorated further - Loganair advised we wouldn't make it to Shetland at all. The forecast was for strong and relentless westerly's continued and our shrinking time on the northern isles seemed increasingly pointless.

So, in just a few days we went from high expectations to cancelling altogether. Gutting, but none of us wanted to be on Shetland in high winds and lashing rain with no birds. It was the right choice; Shetland ended up with it's worst autumn in 30 years (as I write on 7th November it seems unlikely to recover, but it's not quite over). Inevitably, Fair Isle did get one bird and I knew as we cancelled this would appear - my nemesis species, White's Thrush, was present on 13th. Absolutely typical, but I wouldn't have been there anyway so it made me smile rather than gnash my teeth.

So roll on to Saturday 12th October. Andy came down, we had a skin full and decided to head to the south west and probably hop over to Scilly for a few days. We had a week off and wanted to see some birds.

So on the Sunday morning, with heads pounding at first, we set off down the M6. as we approached the M5 we did discuss heading to Spurn instead, which would have been fortuitous, but we decided to stick to the plan and go and see a shrike.

We arrived at Thurlaston in South Devon with about 1.5 hours of light remaining. just as we got out of the car news from Yorkshire - near Spurn, came through; there was a Pacific Swift over Hornsea Mere. Birding social media was immediately in overdrive, with many speculating over the identitiy given the date and recent southerly weather. They were right, photos of the bird quickly came to light and the bird was in fact Britain's first White-rumped Swift. Shit. To Andy's delight, we were heading back north that night.

But in the meantime we could at least enjoy the Daurian Shrike which was lingering in clifftop scrub next to the golf course. A really confiding and thoroughly lovely bird.

 

 

Enjoyable as the shrike was, we had miles to cover. Once we'd filled our phonesope memory cards, it was time to hit the road and head north. We eventually arrived at a Beverley Premier Inn around 12.30, and set the alarm early to be there before dawn..

 

Monday 15th October

 

Leaving the hotel in the dark under heavy rain, hopes of seeing the swift were low, despite it being present until dusk the night before. And so it proved to be. We joined a large crowd of familiar faces in the gloom as dawn did it's best. The rain at least abated, but the bird predictably failed to appear. Only 5 House Martins were present, but apparently there were many more the day before. So the event quickly turned into a social outing (followed by a full fry up), and that made three dips on the bounce.

 

It made sense to head down to Spurn on the off chance the swift would head that way, but it was a long shot. We managed brief and unsatisfactory view of Yellow-browed Warbler and Olive-backed Pipit, and were stood at the latter in the 'Triangle' area when the Spurn radios crackled that there was a swift with a white rump heading sough over Numpty's. Despite frantic scoping we saw nothing, but reports then came through it had headed north. Best linger at Numpties - all birds end up passing over there. But as we arrived it quickly became apparent that there was uncertainty. Others had seen the bird and were confident it was just a House Martin. It appeared to have been an over exuberant mistake. Oh well, the forecast looked ok for tomorrow. We'd stay and do some birding tomorrow. Time for cake, followed by a quick Brambling and then look for a hotel for beers and a proper sleep. Or so we thought, news from Lands End came through around 4.30pm. Instead we had to travel all the way back down the M5 and on to the very tip of the country. The birding gods were toying with our OCD souls.   

 

 

Twitching mileage madness.