Indigo no go. 27th October 2020

The relentless autumn of 2020 will be remembered for many years, so it was hardly a surprise that it is not all over.

Others had predicted a US arrival following a fast moving Atlantic weather system. I had predicted nothing and so was about to show how little I know (again).

On Saturday 24th the storm ripped through SW England.  Almost immediately, in the afternoon, Jamie P (who else) found a Rose-breasted Grosbeak on St Agnes (well, Gugh). A great bird and find, but a relatively expected American passerine on Scilly. The next morning Red-eyed Vireos were found on Gugh and Bryher. Great stuff, it's always exciting to hear of Yank waifs making it over the pond, but why is it always the same species on Scilly? Andy, Jonno and I mused over that on Whatsapp as the kids carved pumpkins on a lazy Sunday.  But I had spoked too soon - the next message was more arresting. 

INDIGO BUNTING, St Agnes. Darn it. I didn't really want to travel all the way back to Aggie given how much I've been away recently and how much work I had to do. I tried to resist, but somewhere deep down knew I was going. Monday was impossible as I had to wait for the arrival of my new car, but I mused possibilities for Tuesday. The weather was predicted to be stormy and the Scillonian had now moved to it's winter schedule. Twitching Scilly isn't as simple as it should be. 

I have seen an Indigo Bunting in the UK. In fact I came off Scilly for one way back in 1998. The bird was in the unusual east coast location of Wells Wood, although we now know east coast American birds are not so unusual. The Norfolk bird appeared on the same day three other east coast Yanks (Cliff Swallow, Northern Warterthrush and Red-eyed Vireo), so it was widely assumed to be a wild bird and subsequently first for the UK. Alas the BOU decided otherwise - it turned out to be in an unusual moult sequence which was considered more typical of captive birds. The records was placed in the bin (Category D). Over time new evidence came to light on the moult, but a recent (2019) review by BOU concluded that the record should remain in the sin bin.

Since 1998 there have been two more UK records. The first was a widely twitched bird on Ramsey Island in South Wales in 1996. I had declined to go for this, having just returned from my first season in Cape May.  A spring male photographed in an Anglesey garden in 2013 was also accepted (bizarrely in my opinion). there is one Irish records, from way back in 1985. Given how frequent this species is on the Azores another was overdue.

Cutting back to the current bird, it was still present early on the Monday (26th), and people were on their way. The weather and Monday timing meant that no-one could arrive until well in to the afternoon though. Meanwhile the option of a day trip flight from Lands End appeared and it was twitch-on for Phil Woollen and me. 

Cruelly the bird disappeared at 2pm, so pretty much everyone who twitched it that day missed it (aside from a very fortunate few). They would have to stay overnight. By this stage we were committed too, and had to role out the old mantra of 'we won't see it by staying at home'. It was a long shot but there was surely a decent chance it would reappear. 

Phil collected me at 10pm, and it was good to catch up so the miles flew by. By 4am we were at Lands End, taking in a few hours sleep before waking to fog and the possibility of not flying. Sure enough the planes were delayed, and so the small airport slowly filled with birders and tourists alike. Early negative news led to a dampened mood amongst birders, but I was feeling buoyant and determined to be philosophical.  Over the years I've become much more relaxed about dipping. There's no point in letting them get to you, just enjoy the day as best you can.

We were in the air around 9.30 and made the 10.15 Osprey crossing to St Agnes. Strange to return so soon after leaving. The weather was good, if a little breezy, and we headed towards the Big Pool / Threshing Mill area where the bunting had been present. Still no sign, and so it was set to continue.

Most people headed to see the nearby Red-eyed Vireo, but I arrived too late to see it well. I did manage brief views a couple of hours later, but these were restricted to the 'arse end' of the bird and therefore disappointing - I even dipped on the compensation! The only other bird of note I saw was a Firecrest.

We departed on the 2.15 boat and loitered outside the Cavorna (cheese and onion btw). Our taxi took us back up to the airport at 3.45 and as we gathered outside someone picked up a distant Glossy Ibis in a nearby pig field and then flying. Probably bird of the day! 

Photo by Kriss Webb (aka Spider)

And that was pretty much that. We were back on the mainland and in the car by 5.00pm and home by 10.15. 

Until the next time!

Shrike Insurance

On Sunday 18th, whilst I was tearing along the M1, a Brown Shrike was found inland in West Yorkshire. A remarkable record inland, and another species that has gone from mega to annual in just a few years. 

I'd seen two before (at Flamborough in September 2008, and a wintering bird at Staines in Surrey in late 2009), but it had been a long time and this bird was a smart adult type so I was immediately tempted. But having been away and done an awful lot of driving, decided to leave it a few days.

On Monday 19th there was a good deal of debate over the birds' identity. Was it in fact a Turkestan (aka Red-tailed) Shrike? In yesteryear  these shrikes were not too difficult to identify, but the old 'Isabelline' shrike has recently been split into two (Turkestan and Daurian), both of which occur in the UK. Identification of many individuals is tricky as there is much overlap in features and many hybrid types have been recorded. Even adult birds, like this one, are far from straightforward. I've seen a clear Daurian in Cornwall (October 2013), which conveniently was found just as Jonno and I arrived at St Just airport with time to kill. I've also seen what most regarded as an identifiable Turkestan; a bird at Buckton in Yorkshire in October 2007 (seen by most people twitching the nearby Brown Flycatcher), but that one didn't make it past the BBRC. None of the other Issy shrikes I've seen have been identifiable to species (or sub-species as it was then). Subsequently the current bird became more interesting and worthy of a trip from a listing perspective, as well as aesthetics.

The bird was showing well when I arrived, but unfortunately soon retired to a more awkward spot looking in to the sun. To me the bird felt very much more like a Brown Shrike than an Issy-type, but I'll admit that was based on little more than gut feeling. It looked pretty much exactly as I would expect a Brown to look, and certainty would have called it as such had I found it. Consensus from everyone I spoke to was the same, and as photos improved and were circulated it seemed that most were of the same view in the wider world. The long, narrow tail and blunt bill, combined with the lack of any colour contrast between the crown and mantle and absence of a white base to the primaries all point towards Brown, but I'll let the experts decide (if it is even possible to be certain). 

A smart bird, regardless of the ID. Some birds are just ace, and shrikes definitely fall in to that category.

Photos below by Phil Jones and Pete Garrity.

Old School Twitching.

Despite the arduous drive from Cornwall, it took a long while for sleep to grab me. Maybe I’m just too soft to sleep in a car these day; the days of four of us trying to snooze in the same car are thankfully long past. Eventually I fell into a slumber and managed some much-needed rest. 

By 6.30 I was awake again and the car park had started to fill with arriving birders. This reminded me of old school twitches, way before the advent of real time news. The familiar clunk of car doors, people getting their gear together and speaking in hushed tones. A sense of anticipation in the half-light. I readied myself, but was far from optimistic. The tide was rising rapidly and it was clear that the saltmarsh was going to flood-out as the tide peaked. Others shared my pessimism and we made a forlorn group, stood on a gloomy morning. 

Whilst initially found yesterday on the coastal path next to where we now stood, the bird had soon moved out onto the saltmarsh and spent the remainder of the day in the sueda bushes. The trouble was that the tide would have risen overnight and more or less flooded-out the sueda; hardly a suitable place for any passerine to spend the night.  At dawn the tide was rising again, and it was due to peak around 8.30. It was only just after 7.00 and the water was already high, so no chance of searching the sueda for a couple of hours at least. There was at least some hope that the bird had relocated to the eminently more suitable coastal patch area, so I waited for the light to improve.

The view at dawn as the tide rose. Surely no chance it would be out there... 

John Gregory soon appeared. His house is just a few hundred yards away and he had been one of the first to connect. We shared similar views on the likelihood of relocation today, but as we chatted and looked out to the rising water John picked up a small bird flying our way “What’s this? Get on this! That’s it!!!” No way. Despite the near complete saturation of the sueda, the bird must have clung on until it could last no longer, and headed in from the marsh. Incredibly, it alighted right next to a small group of birders and sat up in a hawthorn. The mythical RUFOUS BUSH-CHAT, picked up (almost!) on a seawatch. An incredible moment.

Rufous Buschat (by the excellent Chris Griffin)

The bird soon relocated to the adjacent stubble field and put on a cracking show to the relatively small but growing crowd. Thankfully we could space out in the field, so there were no real issues with Covid-19 restrictions (the police soon arrived, as they had the day before, but were very relaxed and helpful).

The bird continued to feed on the ground, almost constantly on view. It sparred with a couple of robins briefly and occasionally sat up in the scrub, showing off it's rufous tail.

Bush-chat is one of those legendary species. No-one has seen one in modern times. The last was a one day bird in 1980 (in Devon), and the last one seen by anyone other than the finder was way back in 1963 (famously dipped by the original twitchers, who went on news delivered by postcard). Everyone needed this species. I will, however, admit to being a little underwhelmed. Perhaps the legend was too large, or maybe it’s just that it was looking a little scruffy. 

There are two races of Bushchat (a future split no doubt), and this one belongs to the duller, shorter-tailed Eastern syriaca subspecies. 

Mega rare yes, but it won’t make it into my personal top ten. Still, I’d definitely rather have seen it than not, and the unlikely circumstances and lengthy twitch from Scilly will go down as a classic twitch.

The day was far from over though. Whilst on Scilly I’d managed to ignore the news of another tick, way up in the north east. It was only 8.30 and I’d filled my boots with the views of the chat. News from South Shields was positive. Why not?

So another long drive commenced. This obsession truly is mental. By 08.40 I was on the road, and by 13.30 I was at Trow Quarry, South Shields in Durham (or is it Tyne and Wear?). I’d been here before, for Britain’s first Eastern Crowned Warbler in 2009 (was it really that long ago?!). Simon Nichols was making the same journey, en route to a work commitment in Scotland. We arrived more or less the same time and were straight on to the target bird.

TAIGA FLYCATCHER had previously managed to elude me, despite a couple of gettable birds. The first, a spring male at Flamborough in 2003, came at a time I was unable to go. Back then it was still considered a race of Red-breasted Flycatcher and at the time I wasn’t unduly worried as I had assumed there would be many more. It was soon split, yet remained a surprisingly rare bird. The next gettable one was in 2009 on Fetlar, Shetland. I had been for that bird (with Malc Curtin), but we dipped. Frustratingly we also dipped a Veery that weekend, and the flycatcher was refound on Yell after we left. So it was an unfinished business species and one I was glad to put to rest.

Happy exhausted twitchers. Good so see Mr Nicholls!

Like most splits, it is a subtle species. However it has enough features to look for – the colder tones, all black bill, clean white orbital ring and well-defined tertial fringing all indicate Taiga over Red-breasted. It has been sound recorded and the identification was beyond doubt given the clear difference in call (unfortunately it didn’t call whist I was there). Job done, and a pleasing bird to see. 

Incredibly it had been a two-tick day, and both birds seen less than 24 hours after leaving St Agnes. Hard-core twitching lunacy. Add this to the recent Tennessee Warbler / White's Thrush combo (on consecutive days) and it's been a classic autumn.

Yards away from the flycatcher, on the next quarry face, a Pallas’s Warbler had been found earlier in the day and continued to show. These are real crowd pleasers, even though they are not particularly rare anymore. It’s been a few years since I’d seen one of these Sibe waifs and I thoroughly enjoyed this one for an hour or so.

I had one final destination, Whitley Bay cemetery. Along with Pallas’s warblers, there had been an influx of Red-flanked Bluetail along the east coast in the preceding days and I was keen to see one. This species is another crowd pleaser and, despite it’s greatly increased occurrence on our shores, will always be enjoyable. In fact there was a lovely symmetry here. In September 1993 I had flown on a charter to Fair Isle where we dipped the then mythically rare bluetail. The following month, in October 1993 I had twitched Stiffkey in Norfolk to see a Western Black-eared Wheater (in fact my first twitch with Jonno). It has been in the exact same fields as today’s bushchat. On return home that day the earth shattering news of a bluetail at Winspit in Dorset greeted me. I travelled alone the next day, and arrived in the afternoon to get pretty unsatisfactory views. At the time it was one of the biggest rarities of the decade. Twenty seven years later bluetails are so frequent in the UK that it is no longer a rarity, but it will always retain its value for many of us however many we see. I’ve even found one with Andy on Fair Isle in 2017. The Whitely Bay bird showed well, but remained high in the trees on an appalling grey day. Still it was a joy to watch.

Red-flanked Bluetail, Whitley Bay (Colin Bradshaw).

I left the north east around 5pm, arriving back home just before 9. It would take me two days to recover, but it had been a great fun day of twitching, albeit one I am not keen on happening too often

St Agnes 15 - 17 October 2020

The trip continued to be more about the people and the place than any avian excitement, but that’s Scilly these days. This was mainly a much-needed opportunity to recharge and spend some relaxed time with Andy after what has been (another) trying year for us both. Good friends don't come easy, and I'm thankful for those I have (we just needed Jonno here!).

There was a small arrival of Black Redstarts and an increase in common migrants, particularly Fieldfares and Redwings, but also a few Siskins and Chaffinches, and I happened across a typically confiding Lapland Bunting and a handful of ever enjoyable YBW. It was slow going.

Male Black Redstart 

Lapland Bunting

The American Buff-bellied Pipit was exceptionally showy and I enjoyed some point blank one on one time with it.

The only other arrival of note was an ‘Eastern’ Stonechat on Gugh. Given the general paleness it seems likely to have been a Siberian / maurus, same as our local bird from the winter.

Eastern Stonechat, Gugh (Scott Reid & Richard Stonier)

Friday 16th was chippy night in the Turks, which is open limited hours this year due to Covid. The evening turned in to a great session, which is perhaps where Aggie comes in to its own, and we clanked our way back across the island carrying take out bottles of beer to continue back at the digs. 

Saturday 17th. I awoke feeling distinctly groggy after a booze hampered restless sleep and casually browsed the web on my phone. It as 07.27 when one of those heart-stopping messages popped up.  

This was one of the mythical birds of yesteryear, with the last one over 40 years ago. No question of whether to go. I knew it was impossible to make it today, so I’d be one day behind pretty much everyone on the mainland and back home. Endless messages about lifts and logistics appeared, and I felt like I was a very long way from where I needed to be. It was Saturday morning the Skybus office wouldn’t open until 10.30, so I couldn’t call to change my flight. Equally, after today there would be no exit from Scilly until Monday, meaning a Tuesday arrival in Norfolk. Sod that. I booked one of the few remaining flights for later that day and would have to sort every else later. Twitch on and logistics organised, I was able to have a relatively chilled day with Andy before taking the 15:15 island boat back to St Mary’s. The bushchat had continued to show to the masses, but bizarrely chosen to move to the salt marsh where it fed on sueda which was due to be inundated later in the evening. Not good news for anyone who couldn’t get there that day. Regardless, it was time to leave.

Adios St Agnes. I'll be back of course.

My flight was at 17:40. It was a beautiful evening and a lovely flight, but I had a long long drive ahead. I was in the car for 18:15 - Norfolk here I come. Thankfully the rental Skoda I’m currently in is equipped with adaptive cruise control, which makes for a much more relaxing drive. I didn’t stop at all until Peterborough, and was in the Stifkey car park by 01.30 for a few hours rest. It’s been a long time since I’d slept in a car for a bird, but needs must.

It's fair to say the prospect of a solo drive was daunting. The last time I left Scilly for a bird was the 1990 Red-breasted Nuthatch - also in Norfolk. But the miles chugged by in my trusty rental Skoda and I didn't even pause for a break until I reached Peterborough, sometime around midnight.

St Agnes 12-14th October 2020

Another year has passed, way too quickly, but once again I find myself on St Agnes. Expectations for good birds are pretty low these days, but a much needed break and time with friends, in particular Andy Carroll, who generously had allowed me to stay with him in the very comfortable Croft at the Troy Town end.

12/10

I flew over to the islands mid afternoon on 12th, getting across to Agnes around 5pm. It was pretty cold and wet, with a relentless north westerly wind, and as a consequence little to look at just yet. I met Andy and we were just heading off to do some birding when news of a Red-breasted Flycatcher on the rocks by Wingletang reached us. Given the lack of birds it was a promising sign and worthy of a look. It was remarkably elusive in the rocks but we saw it well enough. That was pretty much it bird-wise.

13/10

Another day of relentless north westerlies. Birding was slow but we managed a few bits and pieces - Whinchat, a smart male Lapland Bunting and a single Yellow-browed warbler were the highlights. Common migrants were far from that, with only a couple of Redwings and Chiffchaff. We were in the pub for 3pm and the remainder of the day degenerated into an excellent session. 

14/10

After the previous night we weren’t out until the afternoon. The weather had turned and the wind was switching east, always a good omen. It slowly became a glorious day. 

Whilst we were eating a very late breakfast, proper birders found an American Buff-bellied Pipit at Horse Point. Perhaps the least inspiring of any American vagrant landbird, nevertheless it is a great find and a properly rare bird. I’ve seen two previously on Scilly; the first modern times record in 1988 and a second in 1996 that Lee and I found together. Since then the species has become much more regular, with multiple records annually. In fact it’s probably the commonest American passerine to reach our shores these days, a dive even seen one in Cheshire. Still, it was worth seeing even if we set off with only limited enthusiasm. But it was a cracking bird, showing very well in glorious sunshine as it fed on short turf between the rocks with Rock Pipits and Meadow Pipits. I think I’d forgotten how distinctive this species is, and it called frequently too. 

Heading back across the island and casually birding, it was apparent there were more birds arriving. The magic east wind was working. Fieldfares and Redwings were around, and there were lots of Swallows too. Birds were moving.

Next was news of a Bluethroat by the Coastguards Cafe. We’d initially ignored this and assumed it was a typically brief and elusive bird, but as we walked past the Parsonage we were told it was showing well. And so it was. A really lovely 1st winter male, with plenty of colour and bags of character. It fed unconcerned on the path, approaching to about 20 feet a couple of times. A considerable upgrade on the bird I saw on Shetland last week.

The sunset was truly spectacular this evening too. The wind is set to stay in the east so there are certainly grounds for optimism for the rest of our stay.

In the wider world it was amazing to hear that the lammergeier had found its way to the south coast and old mate Laurence Pitcher was watching it on his Beachey Head patch. Safe travels back to the Alps.

Cattle Egret - Long Overdue Patch Tick 9th October 2020

The rise of three egret species across the UK has been nothing short of mercurial. First Little Egrets, then Great Egrets and now Cattle Egrets. All three are species I twitched many years ago when rare, and all three are now breeding in Cheshire. 

Whilst Little Egrets are now expected on patch, and Great's are an increasingly regular visitor, Cattle Egret has so far remained rare. The first was a brief bird last summer, but only the finder saw that one. However it was inevitable that another would soon appear, so the news of a bird on Neumann's on 27th September was hardly a surprise. I would normally dash down for any patch tick, but am currently not feeling overly enthused about the patch, and the inevitability of this species (and increasing records) didn't add any sense of urgency. The bird settled in to a routine of feeding on Dairy House Meadows, feeding amongst the cattle, and roosting on Neumann's.

I eventually found time and enthusiasm on 9th October, and in the end found myself rather enjoying this bird. There is still a touch of the exotic about an egret, and watching this bird took me back to one of my very first twitches; in January 1987 my dad drove me to New Mills in Derbyshire to see my first. If I recall correctly we had to wait some time for it to appear on a cold day, but I was suitably delighted to see it. I guess I was already destined to be a twitcher even at 16.

Impromptu Shetland Double Whammy

It’s that time of the year when we birder check the weather forecasts to an almost obsessive level. Not to see whether it’s going to be nice or not outside, but to check the weather systems on a much larger scale. Atlantic charts and various apps now allow us to see what will conditions can even deliver from both longitudes at the same time. 

Over recent days systems had favoured American arrivals. After the Tiree flycatcher, news of American birds in Norway and Iceland showed the storms had delivered, but nothing was found in the UK. Given that finding a tiny number of American waifs makes searching haystacks for needles look easy, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything, just that it may not have been found. 

Meanwhile, the forecast of a deep low pressure sitting over France and drawing winds from the east looked more than a little promising for a bit of a Sibe-fest up north. On Monday 30th September I sat at work, half concentrating on a report and half watching the Windy app (a birders addiction). The latter part of the week and weekend looked so good that I began to consider a long weekend on Shetland. But given the cost and logistics of work and personal life it seemed fanciful. Still I floated the idea to Karen in the evening and all was good. Work was clear-ish too. I checked flight options. But still, it’s a long way for a few days on spec. 

Then at 10.59 a WhatsApp message on the Mega Chasers group made the decision for me. Despite the forecast turning thoughts to eastern birds, It was a mega Yank. Dougie Preston had found a Tennessee Warbler on his patch at Burravoe, on Yell. Shetland then! With commitments for Wednesday I booked Thursday to Sunday flights from Glasgow, bringing my previously fanciful plan to life. It would be a nervous couple of days - American wood warblers on Shetland have a habit of short stays. And this bird had been found on easterlies, suggesting it may have made initial landfall elsewhere before arriving on Shetland. 

There was no early news on Wednesday 1st October and so it seemed the kid from Tennessee had moved on. But around 9.30 it was reported; news was patchy and it soon was apparent most people hadn’t seen it. The sighting was very brief and the weather was reportedly atrocious. The day ticked on with no further news. Many doubted, some had only seen it in flight and could add little to the required certainty. Only Paul Ellis stuck to his guns. He’d seen it and was fully confident. I know Paul well. He’s a great birder and a good bloke, I didn’t for a moment think he would string or persist with his confidence if there was any doubt in his mind. Still it was bizarre how it wasn’t seen again by anyone else. Many dipped and had to fly home on pre-booked flights. 

I did briefly consider cancelling my Shetland weekend. It felt rather self indulgent. Yet the weather still looked so so good for eastern birds. How would I ever dismiss my (almost) 30 year nemesis Mr White if I didn’t ever chase the weather? I was booked, so I was going. 

Thursday 1st October

Up early and drove to Glasgow, with enough time to call in and see Andy and Caroline for a brew (in the garden and socially distanced of course). I had a pre-arranged work Teams call at 10, so sat in the car outside Andy’s house readying myself to speak to clients. Five minutes before the allotted time news of the Tennessee showing back on Yell took me by surprise and didn’t help me concentrate on work. Just a couple of minutes later, just as I needed to log-in to the call, news of a White’s Thrush showing on Mainland Shetland appeared on my screen. Holy crap. The work call was a bit of a blur (something to do with hen harriers and wind turbines), but I think it went well enough. Call done, I drove the last 40 minutes to Glasgow airport, parked-up and checked-in. I wasn’t due on Shetland until 14.40 and it is an hours drive to the Yell ferry. I couldn’t possibly get to both birds before dark, and the weather was forecast to deteriorate to 45mph winds and rain. I reckoned I would have about 1.5 hours on Yell before dark. The warbler was the much rarer bird, but the thrush was the one I really wanted to see. I initially resolved to go for the thrush, banking on the weather keeping the warbler in situ overnight and allowing me more time to connect. But the thrush disappeared mid morning and seemed to have done what White’s Thrushes normally do - disappeared. Ok Yell then. But the plane was delayed, and we spent an infuriating half hour on Kirkwall airport runway. I couldn’t now make the 4pm Yell ferry and so lost a valuable 30 minutes. 

Eventually, at 3.25, I was on Shetland and mobile. Well just about in mobile in a Fiat 500. The weather followed the forecast and it was lashing it down and blowing a gale. I nearly bailed on Yell given the weather, surely it was pointless? I called Mike Edgecombe and Gregsy, who had offered to wait on Yell. They had been watching the bird regularly but had understandably wandered off for a while. They would head back soon and have another look as I sped to Toft for the 4.30 ferry. I arrived with about 15 minutes to spare and waited. Gregsy called me - the warbler was still there and conditions weren’t as bad as earlier. Hope! The wait for the ferry and subsequent journey was agonisingly slow. I was acutely aware that the bird had eluded 50 people all day yesterday in better weather than this. 

I arrived around 4.50pm and Mike and John were waiting in their car. At least the rain had eased. We set about searching but it was tough in the high winds. Then a shout from Mike at around 5.15. He’d found it in the next garden and moments later it was in front of me, low in a rose bush. 

TENNESSEE WARBLER OML. It remained for only a few seconds before flying back to its favoured sycamore where it perched up for another 30 seconds or so. Massive relief, and huge thanks to Mike and John who left at that point after being there all day. I lingered for another hour or so but only saw it once, albeit nice and close. Hopefully I would have a chance to return for photos and more prolonged views. A couple of Yellow-browed Warblers, a Spotted Flycatcher and a Willow Warbler were the only other migrants, but always a pleasure to see your first YBW of the season.

Time to return to my Lerwick Airbnb for a curry and a celebratory beer. Now for that White’s...

Friday 2nd October

There was only one option - Quendale. The thrush had not been seen since mid morning yesterday and most are famously short stayers. But the weather overnight had been appalling and it seemed unlikely to have gone too far. It was certainly worth a check in the original garden at dawn, and I felt reasonably optimistic for once (no doubt buoyed by yesterday's American addition).

I woke early and drove the half-hour south in the murk. It was still blowing hard, and there were frequent heavy showers. By the time I got out of the car the rain had abated, temporarily at least. I was the only birder there, which felt encouraging. I peered in to the tiny sunken garden that I’ve visited so many times. Nothing, although a cassowary could probably hide in there so it was far from certain. As it hadn’t been seen for so long I decided to try walking the Quendale Burn. This only revealed a few Redwings and Siskins, so I headed back to the garden. The rain set in again and I made for the shelter if the barn wall next to the sunken garden. For no reason in particular l leaned over the wall and immediately flushed a giant thrush. It was like a small rhino with wings. It had to be the bird, but it made straight away from me up the burn, and the combination of rain and misted bins meant I saw absolutely nothing on it before it veered left behind a hillside. Shit! I immediately headed back up the burn and made several sweeps without seeing anything. Knowing how skulking they can be I decided that I needed help to flush the burns properly, but thought it may head back to the garden. It was time to alert others and ask for help, which I did via WhatsApp before returning to the garden to wait. I again positioned myself by the barn and waited, before being joined by Kev Kelly who’d found the bird yesterday. I told him that I’d flushed it from the garden and he too was confident that it would return. We chatted for a few minutes before Chris Bell arrived and joined me. The wind and rain had  mercifully abated. Kev headed off round the other side of the garden. Minutes later, there was a sudden flash of black and white, and quite suddenly there was the WHITE’S THRUSH, sat on the wall not 30 feet in front of me. It was brief, dropping immediately back in to the cover of the garden, but it was glorious. I was in shock. A joyous moment. Finally, my most wanted bird, my nemesis, bogey bird and tart’s tick (what will I do now?!). But more importantly, a fantastic beast of a bird. The giant spangles of joy thrush. The sort of bird and moment that I'd dreamed of as a kid. 

Mike Edgecombe's stunning image. 

Naturally I wanted more views. Shortly after we flushed it from the garden and it landed on a gate for about a minute, although a little distant. Soon it returned to the garden and hid. We managed a few glimpses before it flushed again, this time landing on a wall at about 50m range. It then settled in to a routine, mostly in the garden. Over the next 3 hours I saw it regularly and managed spectacular views both on the ground and in flight. It spent a good 20 minutes feeding in view, giving crippling views as it performed it’s strange body shake. At one point it flew up to the farm, landed on the gutter and sat in the open before dropping under a lone sycamore. A couple of us made our way up there but couldn’t see in to the dense undergrowth, so I edged forward. It popped up into the tree about 10 feet from me and paused for around 30 seconds before flying along the barn and landing, perched in full view for well over a minute. It really could not have performed better and I made to leave, but then couldn’t resist a little longer. One last look as it fed briefly in the open. 

The long wait was over, and this was turning in to one heck of a trip and my grin reflected my home county.

Around that point Dan got in touch. He was birding on foot just up the road, so we decided to team up. He’d found a Red-backed Shrike earlier, so we called in so I could see it. Just as we’d refound it, news came through of a rare Locustella at Sumburgh. Whist keen to go birding, it was impossible to ignore and we headed south. We arrived at the head and there were birds all over, mostly Goldcrests and Robins, but undoubtedly freshly arrived. After a brief disappearance, the LANCEOLATED WARBLER appeared on the cliff rocks and sat out in the open. What a backdrop to see such a cracking bird. It was my fifth Shetland lancie, and I’ve seen them all well (one in the hand only though), but this one was truly exceptional. It soon returned to the base of a stone wall and gave what can only be described as ridiculous views. 

Time to move on. Dan and I searched a few gardens and there was a steady trickle of common migrants. Mainly Yellow-broweds, Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs, with the odd Willow Warbler. Five Brambling were splendid, as ever. Late in the day we headed to burn and nettle field by Scousburgh, a favourite of Dans. It was getting late now, but there were loads of birds in there. In addition to the usual suspects a Reed Warbler appeared, but having checked it we were confident it was a Eurasian. A few more steps and a pipit exploded out of the nettles at our feet and called a loud and familiar ‘spizz’. Maybe a little hastily but I called “OLIVE-BACKED PIPIT” as it landed on a post and thankfully stayed for a couple of minutes. Dan was initially and correctly cautious in ruling out Tree Pipit, but it was really never anything but an OBP.  A nice find to end the day on, and maybe the fifth I’ve found on Shetland (would be nice to find something else, but today wasn’t a day for complaint).

It had been a superb day. Moreover, it seems I'd been very lucky with the Tennessee as it was seen only briefly by a few people in the morning. Most had dipped and there was an air of accusation. After a mass dip for the first day twitchers on Wednesday, it was proving to be a very tough bird to catch up with so far. 

We headed back to the digs via Tesco. Time for a beer and a catch up with Dan and John Bell before passing out into blissful slumber.

Saturday 3rd October

Enthused by the numbers of birds and incredibly promising conditions, Dan, John Bell and I set off early and worked various villages and burns. The weather switched between grim and atrocious, but we kept at it. There were decent numbers of birds, although our own highlights were restricted to a Common  Rosefinch, Redstart, Whinchat, Tree Pipit and Bramblings. We decided to head out West for the afternoon, but whilst in the cars news that the Tennessee was again showing came through, so I headed north back to Yell instead, arriving mid afternoon as part of a convoy of birders.

It was still blowing hard and the bird proved elusive at first, but after maybe 30 minutes it came in to a relatively open tree and showed at close range for around 5 minutes. Photos were tough in the conditions, but I managed a few and the views were excellent. It soon moved back to the original garden where it showed a couple more times, then back again and calling as it flew.

Ex Cheshire birder Rich Bonser was in need of a place to crash after his second trip up from London, so I offered him a floor. Chippy and a couple of beers, and it was good to catch up.

Sunday 4th

Given I was flying off in the afternoon, it made sense to stick to the southern part of Mainland.  There were some willows just along the road from the digs on the outskirts of Lerwick that seemed worth a look. First bird was a Great-spotted Woodpecker (a Shetland rarity I think), then one each of YBW and Chiffchaff, then (yet again) that familiar ‘spizz’ call - another OLIVE-BACKED PIPIT exploded from the trees. FFS. 

After that I tried various spots as I slowly headed south. Nothing new of my own, but I also called in to see a Red-breasted Flycatcher and a showy Bluethroat before it was time to head home. That was some trip!