Vagrant raptors records are tough to prove. Birds typically are seen briefly by just one or two people, almost never photographed, and some species are difficult to identify. That latter point is especially true of falcons, with hybrid falconers birds often escaping. Some species are common in captivity too, so there's the added issue of escapees even where identification is proven (I made a pointless insurance twitch for an escaped American Kestrel in Norfolk, way back in October 2005).
Of all the raptors that could, or has, occurred in the UK, Eleonora's Falcon has been the one most plagued by claims, rejections and general cynicism. There are claims annually, yet there have been just eight accepted records. It's almost become an annual joke ('the Eleonora's season'). Of those eight records only one, way back in the seventies, has lingered beyond the initial sighting. From a twitchers' perspective, this one is up there on the top shelf - possible but just our of reach.
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| Distribution Map for Eleonora's Falcon (from Birdlife). It's normal breeding range is restricted to the Mediterranean, with populations then migrating down the Red Sea to wintering grounds in Madagascar. |
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| Previous records - not a species prone to lingering in the UK. Who wouldn't rather be in the Med? |
Yet there is always hope; surely some of the unsubstantiated claims were genuine Ele's? There are recent records on the near continent too. I always assumed that seeing a UK Eleonora's would likely involve hours, if not days, of scouring a vast area after a confirmed sighting, as any vagrant bird seemed unlikely to linger long and raptors are so mobile. That turned out to be entirely not the case.
On Thursday May 26th a Kent photographer posted photos on Twitter of a Hobby, near Sandwich. Except, of course it wasn't a Hobby. Within minutes the ID had been confirmed, we had a 'real deal' Eleonora's. Nevertheless I wasn't initially optimistic about seeing it, despite being booked-off from work for a week for some impromptu destination birding. But they just don't stay, so it probably didn't matter. It was then reported again later in the day, ten miles to the west at Stodmarsh. Perhaps? There were calls to arms on the Whatsapp groups - birders needed to scour the area. Despite my lack of faith, I lamented not being able to head down on the Friday to search, and was committed on the Saturday morning. Still I wasn't overly concerned.
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| The finder's first tweet. We can only expect more and more rarities to be identified from photos on social media. Which is nice. |
On the Friday morning, I was knee-deep in trying to finish work before my imminent week off, when news came through it was at Worth, just a mile or so from the original location. Arghhh!! Those searching the Stodmarsh area were quickly there, meaning those who'd gambled connected very quickly (and deservedly so). But when twitchers start to connect is always the point of maximum pain. I was stuck whilst the twitching battalions mobilised and descended on Kent. They even found a Red-footed Falcon there too. This was the twitchers' equivalent of Chinese water torture. More and more people connected on the Friday, trophy photographs started to appear, and those unable to get there that day made their overnight plans for Saturday. It lingered until dusk, meaning a dawn raid was likely to be successful, yet I couldn't set-off from Cheshire until 9am. I quietly consoled myself. I was, after all, off the next week and with no particular plans in place. Even prior to this birds appearance I had been considering a trip to the south-east to see friends and take in some birds I very rarely have the chance to see. It's the hope that kills you.
Naturally I was awake very early on Saturday 28th and, of course, news of the falcon's continued presence came through at dawn's crack. It was now just a matter of hoping it stayed until the middle of the afternoon, which at this point still felt like a long shot.
I hit the road around 8.45am. The solo journey - M6 / M6 Toll / M1 / M25 / M2 was long and typically slow due to traffic volumes (I hate travelling to the south east). It wasn't helped by the time of day I was journeying, nor the various sporting events scheduled that day, nor that it was the start of a short working week (something to do with the queen). Andy Carroll kept me good verbal company for a large part of the trip, but the last hour or so though Kent was particularly tedious. But the bird was still there, Malc and co. had connected mid morning. I was optimistic until a final message, received about 45 minutes before I arrived, read that the bird had flown high. I hoped this meant it was simply feeding at height, rather than a departure, but my blood pressure still rose a little and my heart sank.
Eventually, at around 2.30, I arrived in the RSPB's hastily arranged parking field and made my way to the southern edge of Great Wood, the bird's favoured area. The wood is set within marshes now managed by RSPB, with a series of scrapes supporting breeding waders. I paid scant attention, and was despondent to hear that it hadn't been seen for over an hour.
Several Hobbies hunted the area. A single Red Kite, Marsh Harrier, Sparrowhawk and Kestrel added more raptors, but no other falcons. I chatted to other birders whilst continuously scanning. Hope combined with dread. My FOMO was turned up to the max. As is always the way, those who'd seen it assured me it was still likely to be about. Much easier to be confident once it's safely in the bag.
Then, after about 45 minutes, there was word, albeit confused Chinese-whispers style, that the bird was visible from the road on the opposite (northern) side of the rectangular wood. We marched all the way around, but the few birders there knew nothing. Then word it may actually have been on the eastern side. The Benny Hill sketch was getting ridiculous now as a gaggle of birders frog-marched in a giant circle. We passed the female Red-footed Falcon, which was perched on wires around 300m away. I paused briefly to admire it (who doesn't love a red-foot?), but word of the Ele's continued presence meant it was the briefest of stops. I would hopefully return.
Five minutes later I rounded the corner and a kind birder had it in his scope. I opted for the brief obligatory 'whap it on' look and took the immediate pressure off (bursting the ticking boil). Relief. A minute or so later and I had made the final couple of hundred meters along the Pinock Wall trail to the nearest point of viewing. And there it was, sat on the edge of the wood at about 200m distance. ELEONORA'S FALCON. I grinned with a combination of relief and satisfaction. It was a lovely bird (aren't all falcons?) to behold. In the subsequent days it was aged as a second-summer female. This one was a pale morph - like many falcons there are dark birds and pale birds that are incredibly variable. My only experience of this species before was in May 2007 on a short holiday to Majorca.
But the best was yet to come. After perhaps 20 minutes of inactivity it was airborne. It dropped low out of the woods and headed straight towards us. Incredibly it landed in a willow right next to the path, and sat there at no more than 10m from the happy hoard. She then commenced a series of hunting sallies, returning repeatedly to the small bushes by the path. In flight it was a spectacular bird, noticeably larger and broader winged / longer tailed than the accompanying Hobbies. It was also incredibly agile, twisting and turning as it pursued dragonflies, sometime returning to the perch with prey. Breath-taking stuff.
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| Apparently the English name of Eleonora's Falcon was to commemorate Eleanora of Arborea, queen of Sardinia who - in 1392 - was the first ruler in history to grant protection to hawk and falcon nests against hunters. The very birth of bird protection. |
I loved watching this bird and it was hard to tear myself away, but for once there was plenty of time to enjoy it; I had no need to hurry back and had already decided to linger in Kent. I watched transfixed for around 3 hours, occasionally turning my attention to the many Hobbies also hunting the area. As this is not a species I see well very often, these too were a treat. Two
Cuckoo's called and one flew past and
Marsh Frogs croaked from the ditches. It felt like a long way from home.
Ex Cheshire birder Rich Bonser, who now resides in Kent, had returned for seconds (naturally he'd seen it the day before), and we chatted as we took in the sights. Our mutual friend Jamie Partridge had today found a singing Sardinian Warbler on the coast not too far away, so we opted to both drive down and give it a go (in full knowledge it had been nigh on impossible to see). Rich offered to give me a lift to my car as he'd parked nearby, which turned out to be fortuitous as we happened on the lovely female Red-footed Falcon in a bush right by the road. It was incredible that this bird had turned up at the same time - red-foots are an annual vagrant to the UK, but originate from well east (the Ukraine eastwards) and so a different area to Ele's. There was just enough time for a few digi-scope shots and to briefly take-in another great bird before it shot off towards Great Wood to join the other insectivorous falcons. It had been a festival of falcons today.
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1st summer female Red-footed Falcon. Another rare falcon in the same location; remarkable!
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On to North Foreland, above the fabled white cliffs of Dover. The views were great, with France within touching distance, but there was neither sight nor sound of the Sardinian Warbler. Not that either of us was too concerned. It had been an excellent day.
I'd been a bit casual about digs, naively assuming I'd find somewhere but stupidly leaving it until the last minute. The car was an option, but let's face it I like to be comfortable if I can. And it was a works trip after all... I tried and failed at various places but ended up luckily dropping on to a cancellation in a B&B in Sandwich. The owner was generous to a fault, and I grabbed a few beers and a chippy before joining him and his pals to watch the Champions League final. Liverpool were taking on Real Madrid in Paris. Naturally my allegiances were Spanish. I won't linger on the result, but will end by saying it was a Carlsberg kind of day.
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