VARIED THRUSH!!!!!!

Thursday 28th October 2021

I've talked before about dream birds to UK rarity hunters. Certainly the 2019 Tengmalm's Owl fitted the criteria. That brilliant tiny owl was one of an elite list of species who's names are held in reverence by twitchers. There are perhaps half a dozen species on that list, maybe a few more for younger listers. For the most part, the list comprises birds which meet both of two criteria:  a) they are a superb bird and b) there have been no records in a very long time. Wallcreeper. Sapsucker. Hawk Owl. Evening Grosbeak. Bird names that are almost whispered by rarity-finders and twitchers, and if you’ve seen any of them then you’re definitely from the old-guard. These birds are incredibly rare beasts in the UK, although you would hope that most will eventually appear again and give us all a fighting chance (there's no skill to twitching, but living a long-time is definitely a required characteristic). Yet there are a handful of species on that list no-one seriously believes will ever occur again. Implausible birds; Houbara Bustard or Brown Thrasher, for example. The subject of this post was, until now, most definitely in the implausible category.

On the evening of Wednesday 27th we went to visit my mum. Nothing unusual about that, and we decided to collect a take-away en-route. I was sat in the car with the kids as Karen ran inside to collect the pre-ordered Chinese when I glanced at my phone. At that precise moment three words appeared on the Mega Chasers Whatsapp group.

"Varied Thrush Orkney". 

What? Wait? Holy crap! Surely not. 

I mean, they look like this…

Male Varied Thrush, US (not my photo). We saw a couple in California 23 years ago, but the views were mostly disappointing. Not the sort of bird you tire of!

That all too familiar heart-sink gripped me. I re-read the message several times. I had read it correctly, and I could feel the collective weight of a sudden total meltdown of the entire UK twitching community. 

News quickly followed through 'official channels'. Photographs appeared on Twitter. The bird was on Papa Westray, and had been found by the excellent David Roche. There was no doubt. This was a full 'code red' situation and immediate action was the only acceptable option.

I doubt this was the American passerine David considered he might find.

It's probably time to explain why this particular species sits even higher on the list of fabled birds than even that tiny northern mega owl. Varied Thrush is a North American species; it's a short distance migrant with a range restricted to the west coast. It’s barely annual on the east coast of the US and it has absolutely no business making it to European soil. The one previous British record was way back in 1982, in Cornwall, seen by some of the old-guard. Others active at the time didn't even travel, believing it to be an escape as a wild occurrence was thought so unlikely. The species is a stunning combination of orange and subtle powder grey tones; it's a technicolour tangerine dream of a bird. Yet the Cornish one was monochrome, lacking any orange pigmentation. Such aberrant individuals are phenomenally rare in the wild, and a lack of pigment can be associated with cage birds. Due to it's lack of colour, the Cornish record wasn't initially identified correctly, with some thinking it was a Pied Thrush from Asia. Despite this, it was accepted by the BOU as a wild individual. Yet it was always treated with a degree of scepticism. After all the species shouldn't be a vagrant to Europe by virtue of it's range, yet the one individual ever to make it was one sporting an incredibly rare plumage anomaly. Many have scoffed at it's acceptance, probably including me. Of course those that have scoffed didn't see it. Those fortunate enough to have seen the Cornish bird would often cite it as their ultimate blocker. The jewel in their listing crowns. And the rest of us, begrudgingly, probably agreed.

Varied Thrush distribution. The closest breeding birds to the UL must be around 6,000 miles away. 

 

Yet, in May 2004, another bird made it to Europe, albeit the absolute extremity of western Iceland. Hope perhaps? Validation of vagrancy potential to Europe for sure. But still an incredibly unlikely bird to grace our shores again. There a dozens of more likely North American species which are yet to occur, or have done so far less frequently than they perhaps should have. Another UK record seemed pretty much impossible. Thankfully the deity's of avian vagrancy rarely listen to logic; there was one on Papa Westray tonight to prove so.

Back to Wednesday evening when I was sat in the car. I must have looked like I'd been tasered. The phone practically burned the palm of my hand now.  But life goes on. Karen came-back armed with an oriental feast and we headed to my mum's, initially oblivious to my conundrum (although my face may have said otherwise). My mind was only on Orkney. It was simply a case of how and when, with 'immediately' being the preferred option. Thankfully my family is well versed in the routine and recognises the signs with bemused acceptance. We ate the Chinese food. I calmly helped to increase the pressure on my mum's boiler (there's an analogy somewhere in that), then upgraded her iPad, sorted her Amazon returns and even found her a new word game app, although my patience was shredded by the latter. We eventually left, and I arranged to take the kids back to their mum's instead of overnighting with me. The phone kept ringing and messages flooded-in. I'd already agreed to head-up tonight with Malc, Al and Mark Sutton, although plans were fledgling at that stage. We needed to get moving and had arranged to meet up at Cherry Corner at 10.30. I arrived home at 9.30, but still had to go through a new mortgage offer-letter and fill in some forms with Karen. Who knows what I signed. I made it to Malc's just after 10.15 and we met up with Al and Mark on time. Whilst all this was going on, the Mega Chasers collective had sprung in to action and we somehow now had four spaces on an afternoon boat from Kirkwall to Papa Westray. Game on.

Bit of a journey ahead then...

The long overnight drive was uneventful aside from some biblical rain over southern Scotland that made driving hazardous. Thankfully it subsided by the time we reached Glasgow. The journey drifted along, with us each taking it in turn to drive and nap. Conversation was dominated by logistics and the usual fear of dipping, especially as we by now knew the home owners had been watching it for several days. Birds don't stay forever...  

At 6.30am we arrived in Scrabster, on the far north coast of Scotland, and booked ourselves on to the 8.30am ferry across to Mainland Orkney. A local café opened early for us, so we gratefully downed a surprisingly good breakfast and coffee with a few other birders, before heading back to the car. It was just about getting light and we were all conscious that the next hour or so would seriously influence our chances of success. It couldn’t get light fast enough and we desperately wanted that all important positive news. Locals on the island would be searching at dawn and it was barely light when the news came through of the continued presence of the bird; we hadn't even boarded the ferry. As most thrushes migrate at night, our odds were hugely enhanced now. The news was joyously received and spirits were suddenly high despite the lack of sleep. This mythical bird might just happen for us. 

We drove on to the ferry and took our seats, joined by Sam 'the knowledge' Viles and his dad (David, but mostly referred to as ‘Sam's dad’) and the ultimate stealth twitcher that is Adam Wilson (no-one ever sees Adam coming, but he's always there). It was a calm and mild day, we drank more coffee and occasionally ventured outside to admire the scenery. The Old Man of Hoy impressed, as always, and the journey was pleasant. Excitement grew. Reports of the birds continued presence regularly came through. The hoards were descending. 

There was a good deal of discussion about logistics, the charter boat timings, how long the walk was across Papa Westray and whether we could make the return ferry that evening. The latter seemed impossible and an overnight in Kirkwall was on the cards. I would have to deal with the grief that could cause later. It was a Varied Thrush; only that mattered right now. 

By 10am we were in the car and made the 25 minute drive to Kirkwall. Our charter was likely to be here around 12.45, so there was more time to kill. More coffee. Al and I were debating what to eat in a nearby cafe, along with Malcolm Roxby and Rich Stephenson (the Man from Mars) when Sam called. The boat was already there and waiting for us! We scrambled back to the quay, donned the natty lifejackets and boarded the C-Spartan, a rapid response boat normally used for ferrying wind farm workers around.  

The crossing was rapid - we had been told 1.5 hours but in fact in these conditions it was just an hour. This brought us  well ahead of schedule and put the possibility of exiting Orkney today back on the table if everything came together. I messaged David Roach (the birds' finder) via Twitter and he kindly agreed to pick us up, although there were 12 of us on the boat so way more than a carload.

Just after noon we were on Papa Westray. I've been here twice before, for Britain's first Chestnut Bunting in 2015 and the fabulous Steller's Eider twitch with Andy in November 2019. Fond and positive memories of this place. 

We disembarked around noon, with David kindly waiting for us in his pick-up. Everyone jumped on board (without a word of thanks to him, or to me for arranging it). David unsurprisingly wasn't keen to carry 12 passengers, but like the selfish wankers they are no-one would get out. I could have kicked-off, but didn't want twitchers to start squabbling in front of David who was doing us a favour. Four of us got out and started to walk, but thankfully David offered to return and we were all soon on site by 12.20. Handbags stuff.

It's chosen location was an unremarkable area of lawn and a tiny, treeless garden around a bungalow and some farm buildings. Not exactly similar to the giant forests of the Pacific northwest of America. Birds can be very odd like that.

Happily the bird showed within minutes, flying in to land on the garden wall in front of me. That first glimpse of it, all orange and subtle grey stripes, an enormous bill and gangly legs, will stay with me. Just wow. VARIED THRUSH. Too good not to say it again. VARIED THRUSH. Varied f+*king thrush. OML. Around thirty birders had made the effort to get here today. It felt like we we'd been handed the Holy Grail. 

What a bird it was. Utterly exquisite. And it performed in a way befitting of it's splendour; almost constantly on view prancing across a lawn and feeding continuously. It's fair to say the mood was festival-like as we collectively soaked up its orangery under a slowly blueing Orcadian sky. Two-hours flew by with this wonderful creature, and I also caught up with David Roche, along with Don and Sandra Otter (+ Tystie the wonder dog) and Steve Dudley (who all live on adjacent Westray) as well as some old birding pals. Mostly, though, I admired the bird. The views were just stunning.  

Malc togging it.

Classic forest thrush habitat.

Good to see Tystie again. She kindly brought Don and Snadra Otter with her to say hello.

Thoughts eventually turned to departure. It was hard to leave but we had to drag ourselves away. There was a long-shot we could make the 5pm ferry off Orkney. David kindly returned us to the quay, and the C-Spartan soon loomed in to view. By 3pm we were boarded and working-out if we could make it. I emailed the ferry company whilst Mark tired to ring them. We needed to be on board the ferry at 4.30pm and it was a 25 minute drive. So we needed to be in the car in Kirkwall by just after 4 to give us any chance. The C-Spartan tore across the bays and we cruised in towards Kirkwall just before 4pm (pausing for a departing ferry just long enough to increase the stress a little). No time to waste. we jumped in the car at precisely 4pm, whilst Mark firmed up the ferry booking. I drove, exiting the car park at speed whilst Al gave directions as he knew the route. Foot down we should make this. At least until we realised we were heading to the wrong ferry terminal. FFS. We'd lost almost ten minutes heading the wrong way - Al was taking us to the wrong terminal. Google said we had no chance of correcting the mistake and catching up the lost time. I wasn't for accepting that. Hard U-turn. We hit warp speed across the islands, My trusty Skoda stood-up when she was needed, and we skidded in to the terminal at precisely 4.30. How we made that distance in that time I'll never know, but it's fair to say we pushed the boundaries. We were on the ferry.

The journey south was long and tiring, broken only by a stop at a very average chippy in Golspie. Thankfully I managed to get a good few hours shut-eye on the final leg before I walked through the front door at 3.15 am on Friday. Shower. Bed. We'd been gone 29 hours, driven over a thousand miles and taken four boat journeys. But it was well worth it. A memorable twitch and an even more memorable bird. 

PS BOU / IRBC 561. Not that that is important for such an event.