BAY-BREASTED WARBLER (with added Maple Syrup) Saturday 23rd September 2023

The excitement of the previous days' Magnolia Warbler had quickly turned to trepidation. Those of us afflicted with compulsive twitching rarely bask in the glory of a success, it’s all about the next one (or the one that got away). The Ramsay Bay-breasted Warbler had remained on  Friday 22nd. We now has 24 hours to go before a possible American warbler double-whammy, but by now there was a deluge of American birds across the west of the UK and Ireland. What on earth would be next. And where. Twitcher tensions and FOMO meltdown abounded. This was a truly remarkable deluge of rarities but I doubt many of us were enjoying it, or at least not those of us attempting to balance family and work too. With lots going on at home it was hardly ideal that I could be away on Saturday, but I was still going. Sometimes you just have to. 

Our boat was a 10am, but we wanted to get there nice and early so we were parked-up in the scenic lifeboat station near St David's not long after dawn. Familiar faces were assembling. In the end there were 3 boats organised, 9.30, 10 and 12. We were on the first that had been announced, but not the first of the day. But we were booked and that’s all that mattered. 

Ramsay is only just across a narrow sound and we knew the bird would be searched for at dawn. We chatted and scanned across longingly at the island. I was my usual pessimistic self. Surely two new American warblers in a week was far too much to hope for? 

A Wryneck was found by the path and gave fabulous views early on. A welcome distraction and a bird I see too rarely. 

Wryneck

It wasn't long after 7 when the wardens could be seen on the island, clearly searching for the Bay-breast. After no more than a few minutes the distant searcher returned to the house. Surely that was a good sign - would anyone give up that quickly? There was no signal down by the quay, so I wandered uphill only to be met by an animated Steve Gantlett headed the other way. The news was indeed good - game on. It was now a case of waiting for our turn on the boat. Everyone pushed a little closer towards the slipway, as if that made a difference. There were only 3 boats today and lots of people had failed to get tickets. There had been stark warnings not to turn up without one. Us paranoid ticket holding twitchers feared less scrupulous individuals may try to sneak through, leaving us high and dry. The 9.30 boat departed on cue, and it was our turn to head down the steps. Security was surprisingly tight - we went through no less than four separate role calls, a security brief before boarding, another on embarkment and a third on arrival. That said, the main drive was safety and biosecurity, so I have no complaints about it. 

As we waited, there was another incredible birding occurrence. News of the UKs first Canada Warbler came through. Not only that, it was just up the road close to the Magnolia warbler (which was still there) and had been found by the same birder. What the actual hell?!?! Having seen the one previous Irish record (in 2006), I was able to be calm as others lost their heads, but the whole place went in to headless chicken meltdown. My hopes of a rapid return home post-Ramsay had clearly just gone sideways, but it was fantastic to be part of what was evidently turning in to an all-time classic twitch. 

Once on the boat, the crossing of Ramsay Sound was lovely, but constantly interrupted by more and more American bird news. Nothing like this has ever happened before (and it’s impossible to explain to a non birder). We were in unchartered birding waters.

But that could wait. On Ramsay some 15 minutes later, we were met at the quay by RSPB wardens and - somewhat bizarrely - two police officers. We were treated to another briefing before being allowed to head up the steps to the nearby willow and scrub favoured by the target bird. Just like it's Magnolian cousin on Thursday, it showed immediately and very well. BAY-BREASTED WARBLER - OML. 

Above two my shots. 

Simon Slade's photo

Steve Gantlett's shots above and below (@cleybirds)

                              

Having seen more than my share, I can say this bird was a cracker, a class individual. They're not always as clean and bright as this one, and it showed a treat in the willows and bracken alongside a few Goldcrests, a female Blackcap and a couple of Chiffchaffs. It was a a real pleasure to watch in a relaxed mood and in a stunning location, with Choughs overhead, a Peregrine and a Great Egret briefly taking attention away from the bird of the day. Unsurprisingly the twitch had gone well and fair play to RSPB for their friendly assistance. Apparently the police presence was down to a kayaker accessing the island without permission the day before, which was a risk to pupping seals and biosecurity. I don't know if he was a twitcher, but it seemed unlikely that a flotilla of kayak-owning twitchers would descend onto the island. Still if it helped then it's just fine with me.

Two new American warblers in three days. And two of the rarest. Dreamland stuff for us listers. Of the 20 species of American wood warbler on the combined UK and Ireland lists, as at today18 species have been twitchable during my time. I've managed 17 of those (so far) and hold out hope for another Blue-winged Warbler to make up for not being around for the sole record (Ireland, 2000, when I lived in the US). The other two species, Chestnut-sided and Hooded, are yet to appear for the masses but we remain ever hopeful. And there are quite a few more other possibilities.  

As we stood in the sunshine the American arrival news kept coming. Parula on Scilly. Philadelphia Vireo on Barra. Ovenbird on Rhum. Tennessee Warbler in Ireland. Bobolinks. Red eyed Vireos en masse, Baltimore Oriole. Black and white warbler in Gwynedd. Mind-bending stuff, and total panic for the younger generation. Part of me wanted to make it stop. But of course there was the pressing matter of a Canada Warbler to address, and my carload were understandably twitchy. I’d have normally been the same. 

We got the boat back at 12.30, and were in the car half an hour later. Despite the short distance, it was a longer than anticipated drive back to St Govan's Head from here - about an hour and a quarter along winding roads with an excessive amount of Sunday drivers. 

When we arrived it was complete chaos - a far cry from the calm of Ramsay Island. Cars were dumped on the narrow road verge, with people inside the roadside mass of willow scrub. The bird had been elusive and the atmosphere was tense. Even the weather had become more broody. We joined the throng, with the bird putting in a brief appearance to a handful of people just as we entered the fray. People surged. I went to the far end and waited, but seeing through the crowd in to the low dense cover was difficult. Some climbed trees. I attempted to balance on a log. This was nuts, and not in a fun way. After 45 minutes or so with no sightings I resigned myself to not seeing this bird and thanked my lucky stars for Kilbaha in 2006, as well as the many I've seen abroad. 

As it happened I had edged away at the right moment as it was called right in front of me and where very few people stood. I got about three seconds of it, mostly facing away but clear enough. That wodl be CANADA WARBLER on my UK list. It was immediately gone and I was engulfed in a crowd. I moved, and ten minutes later had another 10 seconds of views, an improvement on the previous ones, before it flew up over the crowd and back towards it's original location. At this point a lot of people hadn’t seen it at all, or just flight views of a ‘bird sp.’. Panic was now widespread. 

Canada Warbler. Both photos by Graham Jepson (@GrahamJepson1)

I moved again and found myself in the right place about ten minutes later; this time I managed about thirty seconds of views and saw it well. That would do me, but I had no idea if my car team had seen it. I found Malc and Simon and was relieved to hear they had. We eventually found the dour Welshman and gladly he’d seen it too. It was time to go. I later found out just how many people had failed, some of which had shared cars with people who’d scored. Some stayed over, but next day there was no sign at all. We had been fortunate.

The journey home was long. We should have expected it to be so given that our exit from site down country lane was quickly delayed by a bizarre Mexican stand off with angy crisp eating chap. Rather than following the accepted etiquette of both pausing for an oncoming car, this happy chappy drove nose to nose with us and refused to move, despite us being unable to do so. He then produced a bag of Walkers and set about snacking with exaggeratied actions, waiting for us to concede ground. Stuff that. I took out my phone and started watching videos. The impasse continued for several minutes before Mr point to prove gave in and reversed a full 20 yards to let us pass. What was that about? I exchanged pleasantries as as inched past our new friend. Passing Newtown we paused for impressively good fish and chips, and I was home around 9pm. Knackered but delighted. What next???

MAGNOLIA WARBLER!!!! 21st September 2023

The arrival of American landbirds this week has been on a different magnitude. Many of us had been watching the developing Hurricane Lee on the eastern seaboard of the US, and it definitely looked the business. But no-one anticipated what was to come. We are in unchartered territory.

Really, it's better to read the excellent Birdguides weekly summary than me even attempt to do the events justice, but I will borrow their phrase 'Yankmageddon'. 

In the morning of the 20th September the first clue of what was to come hit. A Blackburnian Warbler on a remote and inaccessible Irish island. Those of us who list Ireland and the UK were thankful of last year's  fabulous bird on Scilly (so much for a one-off). What was next? Over the course of the day the Whatsapp groups has been on fire with speculation and anticipation.

Late in the afternoon, just as I arrived home, a photo appeared on the group. Magnolia Warbler. One of these near-mythical birds that a handful had seen in the early eighties but no-one else. There was a one day bird on Fair Isle in 2012 that me and a few foolish others got as far as Wick for, but those were the only previous records. This was game-on, wherever it was. Moments later the location came through, incredibly it was on the mainland, near Pembroke in South Wales. After that it was a case of making plans, and heading off for the next morning.

I was joined by Malc, Simon Slade and the effervescent Welsh Ed. It's a long drive across country to that part of the world, and we set-off a little later than we ought to have (at 3.30am), so it was light before we arrived and happily positive news had come through quickly. 

We arrived at the car park on St Govan's Head around 8.15am and hastily walked the 500m or so to the valley. The bird showed within moments. MAGNOLIA WARBLER  - OML. There's no better addition to the list than an American warbler, and they are truly rare here. It doesn't matter how many I've seen in the US, this is special. We soaked it in, with the bird showing intermittently but well for the next hour and a half. How easy was that? 

As we watched another photo appeared on the Whatsapp Group. Bay-breasted Warbler on Ramsay, just 20 miles away. WTF - that's even rarer than the Mag!!! Panic amongst the crowd was quickly tempered when it became apparent there was no chance of boats today, or tomorrow, due to swell after the storm. Bugger. As we set-off homeward word of Saturday boats was shared and Simon hastily booked 4 spots on the first one at 10am. We'd have to wait 48 hours, and make the return journey to South Wales if the bird decided to linger. As we drove home more news of American birds came through, nothing overly rare but nevertheless something truly incredible was happening. 

The finder's shared shot. (Toby Phelps). What a fabulous moment that must've been for him.

Steven Windle's superb photo

Boobys Everywhere! Saturday 16th September 2023

The upturn in records of tropical seabirds is nothing short of staggering. And terrifying. The Scilly Red-footed Booby remains atop the Bishop Rock as write this, and was incredibly joined by a Brown Booby for a few days last month: two species on the same rock. It’s been no surprise there have been multiple reports of Brown Booby this summer - the seas around the UK are at record warm temperatures. I’ve lost count of how many reports there have been, but they’ve come mostly from the North Sea with birds simultaneously claimed in Yorkshire, Fife, Moray and Norfolk. So, with the Scilly bird, there be as many as five in coastal waters. But who knows really. As would be expected, most of the reports are fly-pasts, but one off Bempton (where else) was photographed on 4th September and tracked further north before settling in the unlikely location of the River Tees mouth a few days later. It’s spent the last two weeks mostly sat on bouys in the estuary, and no doubt felt comfortable in the record September temperatures.

Seeing the Kyance Cover bird in 2019 had been a disappointing experience, as some twitches can be. A lucky few had enjoyed point blanks views of the adult sat on rocks at St Ives in that same week, but like most birders, mine and Andy’s experience was limited to scope views of a less than impressive immature as it fed offshore. The Teesmouth bird was too tempting to miss, even if there will be more by the looks of it.

From the shore on South Gare it had mostly been distant since first being seen in the estuary on 7th September, but enterprising locals had arranged boats out for some birders and the deluge of point blank photos. I was keen for an upgrade experience, but work prevented me from getting away until Saturday 16th.

The heat wave of the birds initial stay had come to an end midweek, with cooler air and stronger winds now settling in. I’d wondered if this might move the bird on, and reports had become a little less frequent.

In the end the changing weather played in my favour. The birds‘ favoured bouys were no longer stable in the now choppy waters, so the booby took to sitting on the decrepit Pilot’s Pier at South Gare, allowing lovely close views.

However it hadn’t been reported after 1pm on Friday 15th. I decided to set off at 7am on Saturday 16th and see what happened. If the booby was not there I could head elsewhere for a seawatch as the forecast was a favourable northerly.

I stopped halfway at Leeds services and there was still no booby news. It seemed likely the bird had departed. So I had breakfast with a decision to make. News of a fly through Upland Sandpiper at Spurn would have been tempting if it had settled. Shortly after, as I chewed on a hash brown, a report of a southbound Fea’s-type Petrel in the Borders was motivational - maybe I’d do that seawatch at Whitburn. I finished-up eating and made for the car, but as I got in news of the booby’s continued presence on the pier came through. Decision made. Hopefully the booby would linger on the pier long enough for me to enjoy close views before heading off for a seawatch. And so it transpired.

When I arrived at 9.35 the Brown Booby was still sat atop the old dilapidated wooden pier in the company of cormorants and gulls, and remained there until 11.07, when it headed out in to the bay. For that hour and a half it mostly chilled, preened, yawned and occasionally wing flapped. Despite being gannet like and brown, there was something very charming about this bird. Slightly comical and for some reason it reminds me of a muppet. I enjoyed being in its presence very much.

I now know that the name of booby is thought to have derived from the Spanish word bobo - stupid. Early Spanish explorers found colonises of booby’s to be comical and the birds were (and still are) stupidly tame. I wonder just how many were consumed on hoard a frigate?

After asking a local birding pal, I decided to drive around to the north side of the Tees to seawatch for the afternoon from Hartlepool Headland. Despite being able to see it from South Gare; it’s a 40 minute circuit. After stopping for food on the way I was at the headland for 12.30 and gave it a couple of hours with locals.

By all accounts it was quite slow, but I don’t get to do much seawatching so to me it was enjoyable. I logged 3 Sooty Shearwaters, 8 Bonxies, ten or so Arctic Skuas and, best of all, a cracking juvenile Long-tailed Skua. There was a constant trickle of Manx Shearwaters, terns and Common Scoter, and four drake Velvet Scoter passed north. A pod of Bottlenose Dolphins lingered and put on a bit of a show too. It was very enjoyable, and I really should make the effort more.

I set off home, fighting the M62 as I travelled; and arrived back around 5.30. A good day.