Another normal day at the office. Aside from being stressed about deadlines and facing a long day already. Once again the rarities pay no heed to my personal tribulations.
11.30: MEGA. GREEN WARBLER. BUCKTON, NORTH YORKSHIRE
Shit. Shit. Shit. Here we go again. I can't go. Too much to do. Etc etc (sometimes I bore myself with this pantomime of denial). Maybe I could work overnight? I called the client and agreed a slight delay on their vital report - delivering it by tomorrow first thing would be fine (thank you!). We were off then. I slink out of the office with barely a word.
In fact here we go back to Bempton, where the fantastic albatross continues to linger. The route to Yorkshire has been well-trodden this year...
Malc and Al came to the office. Malc kindly drove as I attempted (and failed) to work from the back seat. This one should be straightforward. On site by 4pm. Hopefully home before 9pm. But it's usually the straightforward ones that bite you on the ass, we joked in the car.
And so it proved to be. The bird was incredibly elusive in the small ringing plantation created by Mark Thomas. It was occasionally glimpsed, just as often strung (Willow Warbler), but steadfastly refused to play. Time ticked. Stress levels rose. The sky dulled as the weather slowly started to deteriorate. Recordings were played, to the approval of all.
Then it showed briefly along a ringing ride. Everyone piled-in for a position peering down the run. I grabbed a prime spot lay on the ground near the front and waited. I was immediately surrounded. Covid is not on anyone's minds. We waited. Nothing. It had flicked left, and I thought it was likely to end up in adjacent sycamore tops where it had been seen before our arrival, so I vacated my spot in an attempt to get ahead of the bird. Seconds later it showed back in the ride. Those sat where I had just been scored, albeit very briefly. Al scored. Malc and I despaired.
More waiting. A sense of inevitability took hold. Dip pending. It became too gloomy to see properly, and similarly-minded we trudged back to the car.
It was a long drive home and I still had that report to write. Summing the enthusiasm to start at 11pm whilst in the throws of post-dip misery was no fun at all. Remind me why do we do this again? I made it to bed at 2.30am, then couldn't sleep anyway, too much adrenalin for all the wrong reasons. Tomorrow was another day with plenty to do. I hoped the warbler would depart. Too much to do. Too tired. A little birding self-pity.
Green Warbler was becoming my new White's Thrush. This had been sort of my fourth attempt (of sorts): an aborted charter to Unst in June 2016 (with the bird seen again after we had cancelled), a miserable dip on Lundy in October 2018 (particularly fun boat crossing) and then taunted this summer whilst on Shetland by a bird on Fair Isle, which we could see but not get to despite our efforts. Still, the species has become annual since 2016. Either people know what they are now looking for, aided by the modern phenomenon of quality photos and sound recordings, or the species has gone through a spectacular change in vagrancy patterns in the last few years. The first was way back in October 1983 (on Scilly) and it retained it's monster Blocker status until 2014 with a bird on Foula that was identified using DNA retrospectively. The next was in 2016 and there have now been 6 accepted records (up until the end of 2019), with another 4 since. An amazing upturn and there really will be another, but one so easily accessible is another matter altogether.
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