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.