LAMMERGEIER!!!!! 11th July 2020

The appearance of a young lammergeier in Gwent in summer 2016 came as a shock to Brit birders. For a few weeks it made sporadic appearances over Devon and Cornwall, and many of us made attempts to chase it down. Almost no one connected before it headed back over the Channel. Most of us assumed a reappearance anytime soon was unlikely. 

It seems incredible to think of a wild vulture on our shores, but nevertheless there are several old records. I remember reading about them as a kid birder, in particular a famous Black Vulture in mid Wales in the 1970s which had been put down as an escapee. Some remained unconvinced by the escape ruling, citing the ancient records of other vulture species. It’s clear that, historically at least, vultures  have occurred in the UK. A recurrence always seemed fanciful in my younger days; we live in an impoverished continent and populations had crashed. But conservation efforts begun in the mid eighties had started to pay off, and by the early 2000s Griffin Vultures begun to occur with increasing frequency just across the Channel. By the mid 2010s they were an annual occurrence and flock sizes numbered in the tens. Sometimes the regular Griffins were joined by a Black (now Cinereous) vulture. It was certainly on the cards. 

Adding to the success of European vulture conservation, Lammergeiers were beginning to re-establish in the Alps after extirpation in the early 1900s. This massive and magnificent species has clung on in the Pyrenees, but elsewhere across the mountain ranges of Europe has fared very badly for the last century. As the 20th century progressed, scientists and ecologists begun to understand how vultures played a vital role in healthy montane ecosystems. Efforts to conserve and increase all species were commenced, which meant the start of a reintroduction programme to the Alps in 1986. Re-establishing such a large, slow breeding species is a gargantuan task. It was always going to take decades, but its worked and now the species is firmly back in the Alps. There’s lots of excellent information on the Vulture Foundation website (here). I’ve seen them whilst snowboarding, and also whilst on summer holiday in the Alps. As numbers continued to grow, wandering young lammergeiers have started to appear well away from the mountains across Northern Europe. These included released and wild born birds.  Just as with the other vulture species, the appearances in Northern Europe were unexpected; was this a consequence merely of increasing populations and the natural wandering of youngsters, a reflection of changing climate, food shortages in our tidier environment or something else? No one knows.

In May 2020 a young lammergeier was photographed over the Channel Isles. It was even seen to head north into the Channel and there was brief hope that it would soon be in southern England, but shortly after it was back in France and moved eastwards and was seen in Germany and Belgium. It was photographed over Ghent on 20th June. Then, completely out of the blue, it was photographed over a garden in the West Midlands. Luckily the photographer realised it was something unusual and posted images on Twitter and broadcast to an astonished birding community. A few hours later it was seen heading north over the A50 in Staffordshire - surely it was headed to the South Peaks? Over the next few weeks it was reported sporadically, but the weather was poor and there were few eyes searching. 

In the first week of July the net started to close in, tempting birders to put some time in, but efforts were scuppered by the Portland Shearwater. Then on Friday 11th July,  with the appearance of some gripping images from near Derwent Reservoir and a reasonable forecast, a number of birders coordinated efforts in the area. After being off work on Wednesday I’d been unable to go. In the afternoon Dan Pointon, who else, picked it up across the reservoir. A few more connected, the rest of us watched with envy. Those on site thought it may have dropped in a remote clough, but couldn’t be sure. Despite having reasonable distant views, to their enormous credit, Dan and two others drove several miles round and then speculatively hiked up to the Abbey Brook clough and - remarkably - found the bird roosting on a cliff.

This was the opportunity we’d been waiting for. It remained on the rock until dusk. A dawn assault was required. So Malc, Mark, Phil and I met up at 2am, arriving in Strines an hour later to start the 1hr 45m steep uphill walk in the dark. Nightjars churred on the edge, grouse called from the keepered moor. It was a slog, but I really enjoyed the experience. The last few hundred meters meant leaving the track and crossing bog. Despite our early start it was well light by the time we arrived and around 30 people were already there. Just as we reached the group someone shouted - the Lammergeier was flying! 

It's impossible not to be blown away by such an enormous bird. It was mobbed by tiny kestrels, just to add a little perspective. It drifted away down the valley, but thankfully was ever lost to view and it turned back, making a superb close pass before alighting on it's favoured ledge where it remained for the next hour or so and giving ridiculous views. It regurgitated some bones and flesh and proceeded to pick at these; Lammergiers are the only species on the planet with stomach acid sufficiently strong to dissolve bones. Once adults, bones form their exclusive diet, but young birds like this one are not yet able to do so, and scavenge instead.

This bird has, understandably, led to a great deal of interest from birds and the public alike. It settled in to the area and was visited by many hundreds over its lengthy stay. Naturally, there are very many images of this bird, almost all of which are better than mine! 

Aside from the kestrels and the occasional buzzard, there were few birds up on the moor, although a Red Kite flew over at one point. 

The long walk down was made in buoyant mood. In the end the walk wasn't needed. The bird moved to the Woodhead Pass area, east of Manchester, and I saw it another 3 times in the coming months.

It's a year old bird, but the lack of rings or wing-bleaching shows it to be a wild-born bird. At least one of its parents is very likely to have been released, and so this becomes a complicated matter for the BOU to decide which list the record sits on. Given the 2016 bird was added to Category E, it is unlikely to make the grade. Personally, I feel this is a strange stance - at the end of the day it is a wild-born bird from the species' natural range. The Vulture Foundation consider the Alps population to be self-sustaining, but it seems there are multiple ways to define self-sustaining. Of course I'd like it to be 'countable', but for once I don't really care. It is a wild vulture and a truly magnificent bird and a thoroughly enjoyable and unique encounter. 

Shear Madness 8th July 2020

The continued intermittent sightings of the now famous, yet still elusive, Lammergeier had many of us trying to second-guess its next appearances. It seemed relatively settled in the South Peaks, but pinning it down was another matter entirely. In the preceding days there had been tantalising photographs and reports from the Stanage Edge, Frogart and Curbar Edge area. Yet the recent poor weather and paucity of confirmed sightings scuppered any serious attempts by birders to connect, despite valiant efforts by a few. It was videod at Curbar again on 7th July and the weather for the following day was passable, if not ideal. Worthy of an attempt and hopefully the poor weather beforehand had kept it local. 

Birders agreed to spread out across the area for the day and hopefully between us we could finally nail it down. Except birding never works that way. Just as myself, Malc and Paul Baker were arriving news started to come through that a Yelkouan Shearwater, initially photographed the previous day, was still lingering off Portland Bill in Dorset. We put it to the back of our minds; we were here for the vulture and shearwaters don’t linger anyway. For the next hour or so we watched half-heartedly from Curbar. The hoped-for clearance of weather didn’t materialise. The shearwater was still there. We probably all knew where this was headed. I cracked first and suggested we headed south. The others didn’t need persuading and that was that. A convoy of vehicles set off from the Peaks to Portland. 

When I was a kid there was just Manx Shearwater, although to be fair the ‘Mediterranean race’ birds were always markedly different. As taxonomic understanding progressed ‘Meds’ were split from Manx. Then, more recently, Meds from the western part of the range were split again into Balearic Shearwaters, with birds from the eastern Mediterranean now becoming Yelkouan Shearwaters. They are all, by seabird standards, reasonably distinct given the right views, although today’s events would prove those views need to be exemplary. To add a final spanner in the works, there has been a very recent discovery of a new, small population of breeding Balearic x Yelkouans on Menorca. These birds tend to look like Yelkouans and are probably indistinguishable in the field, but are known as Menorcan shearwaters and for now are considered hybrids. Whether the Dorset bird could be confidently identified as a pure Yelk was another matter. 

So, five hours after leaving the murky hills, we arrived on the south coast on a sunny but blustery day. It seems that there are increasing numbers of Balearic Shearwaters each summer in Lyme Bay, attracted to shoals of whitebait - this was why the rarer bird was lingering. On arrival there were about 30 Balearic shearwaters immediately on view, mostly sat on the water at remarkably close range. But the light wasn’t great as we were on the western side (the Pulpet), and the swell and wind meant separating Balearics from the Yelkouan type wasn’t initially straightforward. To add to the confusion there appeared to be more than one Yelk, and a few Manx in there too. 

Thankfully it wasn’t too difficult to determine the Yelk types once you got your eye in, and it/they were distinctively smaller than the Balearics. But it remained confusing whether there were really two and which of these was the bird photographed yesterday. It was a case of waiting until the birds flew and then trying to get the underwing pattern. Easier said than done when the birds tended to only fly short bursts or in a feeding melee. Still, I was soon reasonably satisfied that I’d seen at least one Yelkouan Shearwater type and managed to get reasonable views of the underwing pattern too.

After about 45 minutes the Shearwater flock shifted a little east, congregating off the Obelisk. This small shift vastly improved viewing conditions. The shearwaters sat and fed close inshore for the next hour or so, every so often dispersing then returning shortly after. One of the Yelk types was on constant view, albeit mostly sat and stubbornly difficult to see well in flight. But over the duration of our stay we managed some excellent flight views too. One of the Yelk types had a far more distinctive underwing bar than the other and so was presumably yesterdays bird. Personally I’m of the opinion both of these birds were Yelkouan types as they certainly weren’t Manx or Balearics. Whether one or both could be Menorcan birds is impossible to know, but the BOU / BBRC position on hybrids is straightforward - unless a bird shows visible hybrid features then hybrids are discounted. In other words this bird (birds!?) has to be accepted or Yelkouan should be re over from the British list. 

So from a listing perspective, job done. Despite the challenges I really enjoyed the experience. It’s rare I get to see Shearwaters well from land and it had been instructive. Back home around midnight - the vulture would have to wait.

Photos below are all nabbed from the WhatsApp group and I’m afraid I don’t know whose they are - apologies if that sort of thing offends you (although does anyone really care?).