Tern-Central Strikes Again. Cemlyn Bay, Anglesey, 8th July 2021

I can't remember when I first went to Cemlyn Bay on Anglesey. I suspect it was a Haloe Ornithologists Club trip in the mid eighties. I certainly first twitched a bird there in 1988. Since then I've visited many times. It's a beautiful, magical place. Sitting on the shingle beach by the lagoon watching terns zoom overhead carrying food to their youngsters on the two islands is a joyful experience. 

Perhaps more than any other tern colony in the UK, the Cemlyn tern colony seems to attract rarer species. My first (and only UK) Bridled Tern was here in 1988, then in 2005 Sooty Tern (although that was first seen on the nearby Skerries) and a putative Cabot's Tern in 2006. In wider Anglesey I've also seen Forster's Tern and American Royal Tern, and in neighbouring Gwynnedd another Royal Tern sp (possibly an African Crested and my 500th UK species in 2009). Then there was the Elegant Tern, with the UK's first record at Porthmadog in 2002 (although I'd also dipped in in Devon earlier in the year). There's nowhere like North Wales for rare terns, and Cemlyn is the epicentre.

These-days Cemlyn also forms part of old friend Mark Sutton's patch. Mark has worked the area hard recently and turned in to something of  a rarity finder there and elsewhere. Fair play to him for putting the effort in. Mark struck gold (or orange) again on Sunday 4th July with an 'orange-billed tern' in the Sandwich Tern colony. 

It was rapidly identified as an Elegant Tern. Only the fifth UK record but nowadays the most expected of the various orange-billed species, which is truly remarkable for a species with a normal range of the eastern Pacific Ocean; the nearest breeding birds should be in California. Early European records of this species were considered so unlikely that it eventually took DNA sampling to prove the birds were indeed Elegant Terns and not some form of hybrid. It was only possible to collect DNA as a pair settled to breed in eastern Spain in 2009. Since then there have been one or two pairs breeding annually, no increasing the number of birds in Europe gradually, and this year a pair has also settled on the Atlantic coast of France and is currently raising two young. A third adult was reported with the French pair recently and it is perhaps this bird that has moved to Anglesey. How this modest colonisation has happened is hard to fathom, the species remains rare on the eastern seaboard of the USA let alone crossing the Atlantic. 

Elegant tern normal distribution. How on earth have they colonised Europe?!

It was Thursday 8th July before I was free to make the familiar journey to Anglesey, joined by Mark Payne. It was a glorious sunny evening as we parked up, then waked the short distance down the shingle ridge to join the one other birder present. All the terns here spend long periods out at sea fishing, so there's always the possibility of a long-wait. This time we were fortunate thought, the splendid ELEGANT TERN was immediately on view and remained so for most of the next couple of hours, usually sat on top of a wooden tern nesting box. It spent most of it's time vigorously displaying with a Sandwich Tern, so presumably they are pairing up. It seems too late for a breeding attempt this year, but there's a distinct possibility it will return next year and the UK's first nesting attempt (albeit a mixed pair) could be on the cards.

There's plenty of other interest at Cemlyn, watching the comings and goings of Arctic Terns and Common Terns as well as the Sandwich's provided entertainment and an opportunity to rattle of endless flight shots. A single adult Roseate Tern was eventually found, but mostly stayed hidden; my first of this beautiful species for several years. There were numerous fledglings around, and both they and their accompanying adults could be remarkably tame. Offshore at least 3 Black Guillemots were in the bay, and Little Egrets fed on the lagoon. A lovely evening out. 

ALBATROSS!!!! Bempton Cliffs, Yorkshire, 5th July 2021

There are few birds that inspire birders as much as albatrosses. They are the majestic giants of the harsh southern oceans, very long-lived and somehow wise, almost mythical beasts. Very few are seen in the northern hemisphere and a trip to New Zealand to see some of these behemoths is high on my to do list. One day.

We do, however, get one species in the UK from time to time. Like any rare seabird, many records are flypasts for a diligent seawatcher. But unlike other rare seabirds, there have been a handful of individuals that have lingered in gannet colonies in the UK, no doubt hoping to attract a mate and returning annually to the wrong end of their oceanic world. Most famously, 'Albert' spent most summers from 1972 to 1995 on the cliffs of Hermaness, Unst (Shetland). Before that a bird, or perhaps Albert, spent a few summers in the late 60s on the Bass Rock in Lothian. More recently, one spent two summers on the extremely remote island of Sula Sgeir in the mid noughties. These had been successfully twitched in their time, and I had made the pilgrimage to see Albert on Unst way back in March 1991. I'd not seen an albatross since.

In 2014 a bird appeared in Germany and became regular on the island of Sylt (nowhere near a seabird colony - it chose to hang out with mute swans there instead), but periodically appeared in Scandinavia and then put in a few brief appearances in the UK - at Minsmere (Suffolk) and slowly became annual at the Bempton (Yorkshire) seabird city. However despite it's annual visits it never lingered.

In 2020 it finally stayed a couple of days at Bempton, but other commitments stopped me from making the trip. I was truly gripped by the photos and vowed to make haste if it did the same in 2021. But in spring (around April) it was reported in Denmark being chased and attacked by up to nine white-tailed eagles. That must have been some sight; it was lost to view but the observers unsurprisingly thought it had probably perished. It seemed to be game over for this particular bird and to my aspirations to see another UK albatross.

Then, almost exactly a year after last years visit (28th June), it reappeared back at Bempton. Albert (they are always Albert) was resurrected! Some birds are made of stern stuff. 

But unfortunately I again couldn't travel; missing my own 50th celebrations would be more than a little selfish so I put Albert out of my mind and enjoyed a really lovely birthday. He stayed two days again and disappeared once more. Ah well, there was hope for 2022 at least. The photos we're once again absolutely stunning and I was definitely a little miffed at his timing again.

Thankfully the new Albert had other ideas, and reappeared a few days later before finally settling in to a semi-regular pattern. Luck was needed, but if you timed it right he was there for the taking and looking set to become a more regular fixture on the Yorkshire coast. 

News that he was on the cliffs late in the evening on Sunday 4th July had me shifting work arrangements around. I couldn't miss this opportunity, work would have to wait again.

An early-ish morning start saw me arrive at Bempton at 7.30 and by 7.45 I was positioned at the New Roll-up viewpoint looking east. A few others were already there and had recently seen the bird soaring  further to the east. Within minutes it appeared, briefly flying out before heading back in to an unseen bay. Finally, BLACK-BROWED ALBATROSS.  Phew. The pattern was repeated before he finally came our way and soared over the cliffs, trying repeatedly but unsuccessfully to land amongst the gannet throng. This pattern was repeated all morning and the views were excellent (if not as close as some had enjoyed). What a glorious bird to watch. Breathtaking stuff.. The photos below are all shamelessly 'borrowed' from more accomplished photographers (mostly Graham Catley) than I will ever be.

The cliffs of course teamed with Gannets, Guillemots, Razorbills, Puffins, Kittiwakes and Fulmars, but if I'm honest I paid them little notice today. Above the cliffs the farmland is managed by RSPB for birds and teemed with Tree Sparrows and Corn Buntings sang in the background. I had to drag myself away to get back to work. Hopefully I'll meet Albert again soon, he's worth the return.