Cattle Egret - Long Overdue Patch Tick 9th October 2020

The rise of three egret species across the UK has been nothing short of mercurial. First Little Egrets, then Great Egrets and now Cattle Egrets. All three are species I twitched many years ago when rare, and all three are now breeding in Cheshire. 

Whilst Little Egrets are now expected on patch, and Great's are an increasingly regular visitor, Cattle Egret has so far remained rare. The first was a brief bird last summer, but only the finder saw that one. However it was inevitable that another would soon appear, so the news of a bird on Neumann's on 27th September was hardly a surprise. I would normally dash down for any patch tick, but am currently not feeling overly enthused about the patch, and the inevitability of this species (and increasing records) didn't add any sense of urgency. The bird settled in to a routine of feeding on Dairy House Meadows, feeding amongst the cattle, and roosting on Neumann's.

I eventually found time and enthusiasm on 9th October, and in the end found myself rather enjoying this bird. There is still a touch of the exotic about an egret, and watching this bird took me back to one of my very first twitches; in January 1987 my dad drove me to New Mills in Derbyshire to see my first. If I recall correctly we had to wait some time for it to appear on a cold day, but I was suitably delighted to see it. I guess I was already destined to be a twitcher even at 16.

Impromptu Shetland Double Whammy

It’s that time of the year when we birder check the weather forecasts to an almost obsessive level. Not to see whether it’s going to be nice or not outside, but to check the weather systems on a much larger scale. Atlantic charts and various apps now allow us to see what will conditions can even deliver from both longitudes at the same time. 

Over recent days systems had favoured American arrivals. After the Tiree flycatcher, news of American birds in Norway and Iceland showed the storms had delivered, but nothing was found in the UK. Given that finding a tiny number of American waifs makes searching haystacks for needles look easy, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything, just that it may not have been found. 

Meanwhile, the forecast of a deep low pressure sitting over France and drawing winds from the east looked more than a little promising for a bit of a Sibe-fest up north. On Monday 30th September I sat at work, half concentrating on a report and half watching the Windy app (a birders addiction). The latter part of the week and weekend looked so good that I began to consider a long weekend on Shetland. But given the cost and logistics of work and personal life it seemed fanciful. Still I floated the idea to Karen in the evening and all was good. Work was clear-ish too. I checked flight options. But still, it’s a long way for a few days on spec. 

Then at 10.59 a WhatsApp message on the Mega Chasers group made the decision for me. Despite the forecast turning thoughts to eastern birds, It was a mega Yank. Dougie Preston had found a Tennessee Warbler on his patch at Burravoe, on Yell. Shetland then! With commitments for Wednesday I booked Thursday to Sunday flights from Glasgow, bringing my previously fanciful plan to life. It would be a nervous couple of days - American wood warblers on Shetland have a habit of short stays. And this bird had been found on easterlies, suggesting it may have made initial landfall elsewhere before arriving on Shetland. 

There was no early news on Wednesday 1st October and so it seemed the kid from Tennessee had moved on. But around 9.30 it was reported; news was patchy and it soon was apparent most people hadn’t seen it. The sighting was very brief and the weather was reportedly atrocious. The day ticked on with no further news. Many doubted, some had only seen it in flight and could add little to the required certainty. Only Paul Ellis stuck to his guns. He’d seen it and was fully confident. I know Paul well. He’s a great birder and a good bloke, I didn’t for a moment think he would string or persist with his confidence if there was any doubt in his mind. Still it was bizarre how it wasn’t seen again by anyone else. Many dipped and had to fly home on pre-booked flights. 

I did briefly consider cancelling my Shetland weekend. It felt rather self indulgent. Yet the weather still looked so so good for eastern birds. How would I ever dismiss my (almost) 30 year nemesis Mr White if I didn’t ever chase the weather? I was booked, so I was going. 

Thursday 1st October

Up early and drove to Glasgow, with enough time to call in and see Andy and Caroline for a brew (in the garden and socially distanced of course). I had a pre-arranged work Teams call at 10, so sat in the car outside Andy’s house readying myself to speak to clients. Five minutes before the allotted time news of the Tennessee showing back on Yell took me by surprise and didn’t help me concentrate on work. Just a couple of minutes later, just as I needed to log-in to the call, news of a White’s Thrush showing on Mainland Shetland appeared on my screen. Holy crap. The work call was a bit of a blur (something to do with hen harriers and wind turbines), but I think it went well enough. Call done, I drove the last 40 minutes to Glasgow airport, parked-up and checked-in. I wasn’t due on Shetland until 14.40 and it is an hours drive to the Yell ferry. I couldn’t possibly get to both birds before dark, and the weather was forecast to deteriorate to 45mph winds and rain. I reckoned I would have about 1.5 hours on Yell before dark. The warbler was the much rarer bird, but the thrush was the one I really wanted to see. I initially resolved to go for the thrush, banking on the weather keeping the warbler in situ overnight and allowing me more time to connect. But the thrush disappeared mid morning and seemed to have done what White’s Thrushes normally do - disappeared. Ok Yell then. But the plane was delayed, and we spent an infuriating half hour on Kirkwall airport runway. I couldn’t now make the 4pm Yell ferry and so lost a valuable 30 minutes. 

Eventually, at 3.25, I was on Shetland and mobile. Well just about in mobile in a Fiat 500. The weather followed the forecast and it was lashing it down and blowing a gale. I nearly bailed on Yell given the weather, surely it was pointless? I called Mike Edgecombe and Gregsy, who had offered to wait on Yell. They had been watching the bird regularly but had understandably wandered off for a while. They would head back soon and have another look as I sped to Toft for the 4.30 ferry. I arrived with about 15 minutes to spare and waited. Gregsy called me - the warbler was still there and conditions weren’t as bad as earlier. Hope! The wait for the ferry and subsequent journey was agonisingly slow. I was acutely aware that the bird had eluded 50 people all day yesterday in better weather than this. 

I arrived around 4.50pm and Mike and John were waiting in their car. At least the rain had eased. We set about searching but it was tough in the high winds. Then a shout from Mike at around 5.15. He’d found it in the next garden and moments later it was in front of me, low in a rose bush. 

TENNESSEE WARBLER OML. It remained for only a few seconds before flying back to its favoured sycamore where it perched up for another 30 seconds or so. Massive relief, and huge thanks to Mike and John who left at that point after being there all day. I lingered for another hour or so but only saw it once, albeit nice and close. Hopefully I would have a chance to return for photos and more prolonged views. A couple of Yellow-browed Warblers, a Spotted Flycatcher and a Willow Warbler were the only other migrants, but always a pleasure to see your first YBW of the season.

Time to return to my Lerwick Airbnb for a curry and a celebratory beer. Now for that White’s...

Friday 2nd October

There was only one option - Quendale. The thrush had not been seen since mid morning yesterday and most are famously short stayers. But the weather overnight had been appalling and it seemed unlikely to have gone too far. It was certainly worth a check in the original garden at dawn, and I felt reasonably optimistic for once (no doubt buoyed by yesterday's American addition).

I woke early and drove the half-hour south in the murk. It was still blowing hard, and there were frequent heavy showers. By the time I got out of the car the rain had abated, temporarily at least. I was the only birder there, which felt encouraging. I peered in to the tiny sunken garden that I’ve visited so many times. Nothing, although a cassowary could probably hide in there so it was far from certain. As it hadn’t been seen for so long I decided to try walking the Quendale Burn. This only revealed a few Redwings and Siskins, so I headed back to the garden. The rain set in again and I made for the shelter if the barn wall next to the sunken garden. For no reason in particular l leaned over the wall and immediately flushed a giant thrush. It was like a small rhino with wings. It had to be the bird, but it made straight away from me up the burn, and the combination of rain and misted bins meant I saw absolutely nothing on it before it veered left behind a hillside. Shit! I immediately headed back up the burn and made several sweeps without seeing anything. Knowing how skulking they can be I decided that I needed help to flush the burns properly, but thought it may head back to the garden. It was time to alert others and ask for help, which I did via WhatsApp before returning to the garden to wait. I again positioned myself by the barn and waited, before being joined by Kev Kelly who’d found the bird yesterday. I told him that I’d flushed it from the garden and he too was confident that it would return. We chatted for a few minutes before Chris Bell arrived and joined me. The wind and rain had  mercifully abated. Kev headed off round the other side of the garden. Minutes later, there was a sudden flash of black and white, and quite suddenly there was the WHITE’S THRUSH, sat on the wall not 30 feet in front of me. It was brief, dropping immediately back in to the cover of the garden, but it was glorious. I was in shock. A joyous moment. Finally, my most wanted bird, my nemesis, bogey bird and tart’s tick (what will I do now?!). But more importantly, a fantastic beast of a bird. The giant spangles of joy thrush. The sort of bird and moment that I'd dreamed of as a kid. 

Mike Edgecombe's stunning image. 

Naturally I wanted more views. Shortly after we flushed it from the garden and it landed on a gate for about a minute, although a little distant. Soon it returned to the garden and hid. We managed a few glimpses before it flushed again, this time landing on a wall at about 50m range. It then settled in to a routine, mostly in the garden. Over the next 3 hours I saw it regularly and managed spectacular views both on the ground and in flight. It spent a good 20 minutes feeding in view, giving crippling views as it performed it’s strange body shake. At one point it flew up to the farm, landed on the gutter and sat in the open before dropping under a lone sycamore. A couple of us made our way up there but couldn’t see in to the dense undergrowth, so I edged forward. It popped up into the tree about 10 feet from me and paused for around 30 seconds before flying along the barn and landing, perched in full view for well over a minute. It really could not have performed better and I made to leave, but then couldn’t resist a little longer. One last look as it fed briefly in the open. 

The long wait was over, and this was turning in to one heck of a trip and my grin reflected my home county.

Around that point Dan got in touch. He was birding on foot just up the road, so we decided to team up. He’d found a Red-backed Shrike earlier, so we called in so I could see it. Just as we’d refound it, news came through of a rare Locustella at Sumburgh. Whist keen to go birding, it was impossible to ignore and we headed south. We arrived at the head and there were birds all over, mostly Goldcrests and Robins, but undoubtedly freshly arrived. After a brief disappearance, the LANCEOLATED WARBLER appeared on the cliff rocks and sat out in the open. What a backdrop to see such a cracking bird. It was my fifth Shetland lancie, and I’ve seen them all well (one in the hand only though), but this one was truly exceptional. It soon returned to the base of a stone wall and gave what can only be described as ridiculous views. 

Time to move on. Dan and I searched a few gardens and there was a steady trickle of common migrants. Mainly Yellow-broweds, Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs, with the odd Willow Warbler. Five Brambling were splendid, as ever. Late in the day we headed to burn and nettle field by Scousburgh, a favourite of Dans. It was getting late now, but there were loads of birds in there. In addition to the usual suspects a Reed Warbler appeared, but having checked it we were confident it was a Eurasian. A few more steps and a pipit exploded out of the nettles at our feet and called a loud and familiar ‘spizz’. Maybe a little hastily but I called “OLIVE-BACKED PIPIT” as it landed on a post and thankfully stayed for a couple of minutes. Dan was initially and correctly cautious in ruling out Tree Pipit, but it was really never anything but an OBP.  A nice find to end the day on, and maybe the fifth I’ve found on Shetland (would be nice to find something else, but today wasn’t a day for complaint).

It had been a superb day. Moreover, it seems I'd been very lucky with the Tennessee as it was seen only briefly by a few people in the morning. Most had dipped and there was an air of accusation. After a mass dip for the first day twitchers on Wednesday, it was proving to be a very tough bird to catch up with so far. 

We headed back to the digs via Tesco. Time for a beer and a catch up with Dan and John Bell before passing out into blissful slumber.

Saturday 3rd October

Enthused by the numbers of birds and incredibly promising conditions, Dan, John Bell and I set off early and worked various villages and burns. The weather switched between grim and atrocious, but we kept at it. There were decent numbers of birds, although our own highlights were restricted to a Common  Rosefinch, Redstart, Whinchat, Tree Pipit and Bramblings. We decided to head out West for the afternoon, but whilst in the cars news that the Tennessee was again showing came through, so I headed north back to Yell instead, arriving mid afternoon as part of a convoy of birders.

It was still blowing hard and the bird proved elusive at first, but after maybe 30 minutes it came in to a relatively open tree and showed at close range for around 5 minutes. Photos were tough in the conditions, but I managed a few and the views were excellent. It soon moved back to the original garden where it showed a couple more times, then back again and calling as it flew.

Ex Cheshire birder Rich Bonser was in need of a place to crash after his second trip up from London, so I offered him a floor. Chippy and a couple of beers, and it was good to catch up.

Sunday 4th

Given I was flying off in the afternoon, it made sense to stick to the southern part of Mainland.  There were some willows just along the road from the digs on the outskirts of Lerwick that seemed worth a look. First bird was a Great-spotted Woodpecker (a Shetland rarity I think), then one each of YBW and Chiffchaff, then (yet again) that familiar ‘spizz’ call - another OLIVE-BACKED PIPIT exploded from the trees. FFS. 

After that I tried various spots as I slowly headed south. Nothing new of my own, but I also called in to see a Red-breasted Flycatcher and a showy Bluethroat before it was time to head home. That was some trip! 

Yellow-bellied Flycatcher! First for WP.

We're all used to rapid news and instant access these days. However there are times when news has to be suppressed from the masses and that's perfectly understandable. Covid-19 was always likely to increase the possibility of news being kept away from the mob, either legitimately or as an easy excuse for the haters. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and so it very nearly transpired.

But if you're going to suppress something then do it properly. Total silence is the only way it can work. Telling anyone, even a single person, always seems to ensure word will be leaked. Those bloody twitchers are always listening....

I was at work as usual on the morning of Tuesday 15th September the rumors started. Whispers of 'something big' on a Scottish island. The Whatsapp groups went into overdrive. It soon became clear there was something going on, there was just too much chat, and the hounds had a scent that they weren't going to back-off from. As the day progressed the chatter did not relent: 'it' was a first for the UK, 'it' was in Argyll, then on Tiree and then - by default - in a very specific garden (one with a history of good birds). There was nothing solid, not even a species-name, but 'it' was real. All lines of investigation were interrogated and picked to death. Rumours of New World warblers began to circulate and after last weekends perfect weather system it seemed a good bet if 'it' was real. But cards were being held very tightly. Then Canada Warbler was mooted. The drums beat louder by the hour, loudly enough for the vanguard - the birding ultras - to book flights to Tiree on the basis of a possible rarity. Fair play, you mad bastards.

Eventually,  well in to the evening, news of a 'first' were indeed confirmed; Yellow-bellied Flycatcher . On Tiree, in the exact garden predicted early in the day. So much for total suppression. It seemed that locals were apparently fearful of a mass invasion in these Covid times, and of course that was understandable. Yet it was also nonsense. Tiree, according to the council website, is open for tourists. In fact September is  their busiest month and there are hordes of surfers there. Why would birders visiting a garden and remaining outdoors be unacceptable? Not only that, there has never been an invasion of birders onto a Scottish island for a rarity, and there was never going to be one for an Empidomax flycatcher, no matter how rare. Eventually it transpired that it wasn't locals, it was RSPB head office who apparently advised their employee (the finder) that he had to suppress the news for fear of damaging local relationships. Allegedly his job was threatened (really?! That would make a fun tribunal). It seems the email correspondence was shared and hence the news slowly seeped out to the ever-listening listers. Locals, in fact, were perfectly happy for birders to visit. So via the excellent Whatsapp listers group ('mega chasers'), we all agreed to go on a charm offensive, to give the many haters no reason to have yet another go at twitchers. Strict covid measures for us all, to follow all rules (even wearing masks outside) and to raise funds. Absolute best behaviour, although it really should always be that way anyway There was never going to be a big crowd by virtue of location, so thankfully it was entirely possible and - to date - has worked very well. Massive positive vibes and words of thanks from locals on Twitter have kept the haters at bay. As predicted in 'Twitching' magazine in 1987, "Rare Birds are Good News".

Anyway, on to my own personal mini adventure...

Accessing an island at short notice is always a challenge, although Tiree is simpler than most. By the time news was confirmed on the Tuesday evening of course there were no available schedule flights for the following day, and work commitments were are issue. Similarly Thursday looked a challenge, but there was a glimmer. I took a punt and opted for a Friday flight in the hope it would remain. Malc did the same. It was only Tuesday though, and these flycatchers don't have a good track record of protracted stays. I didn't like it. Inevitably, when the option of a Thursday charter from Oban was offered we cracked and were in. We could retain the Logain air flights as a backstop or retain the credits. Meanwhile, the Wednesday ultras scored and perhaps a dozen people made it. Fair play to them. Happily they reported a warm welcome and bent over backwards to ensure the locals were reassured and a sensible access procedure was in place. 

With positive news on the Wednesday we were on for Thursday 17th. 

The long drive north began at 2am from the traditional Cherry Corner meeting place, and we steamed up the road in my impressive rental Skoda (an awesome car!). By 8am we were breakfasting in Witherspoons (filth) in Oban and staring anxiously at phones for news. It was light, but there was radio silence.  The first Whatsapp messages were negative.  It looked bad. We had until 9am to cancel the charter plan or incur full costs. At 8.40 there was still no news. We headed to the airport to meet the crew and make a collective decision (surely we had to go over??). At 8.45, whilst driving, the positive news came through. There was a collective cheer in the car. I actually punched the air for an Empidomax flycatcher. Blimey.

Our charter flight with Hebridean Airways was efficient, although a little disappointing that we had to bring bins or a camera, not both. The flight departed at 10.15 (early), and we soared over Mull in beautiful weather, arriving on Tiree at 10.45-ish. A new island for me and very lovely it is too. Our pre-booked taxi (bus) was waiting and by just after 11am we were on site. 

Perhaps 10 birders were there and we waited our turn. Apparently it had last been seen 30 minutes previous and was looking very ill - far less active than yesterday. Had it dropped off it's final perch as we travelled? 

There was an anxious twenty minute wait before a perfectly healthy looking bird popped up at close range Thank the birding gods. The views were stupendous and there were no issues with crowds. The finder was very welcoming and grateful for everyone's consideration. 

Yellow-bellied Flycatcher OML, and probably/possibly my 550th too, depending on which way the BOU/IOC cookie crumbles. And it was a real cracker of a bird too. The ID is pretty straightforward for an empid, with the shape and eyering meaning it's a Least or Yellow-bellied. The yellow tones on the underparts, warmth to the green upperparts and all orange lower mandible mean it's clearly not a Least.

My only regret is the lack of a camera. It showed outrageously well on glorious sunshine, and at one point I watched it alone at about 15 feet range for several minutes. I managed a few phone shots but that was it.

Mark Sutton's were a little better....

And, as ever, Chris Griffin nailed it.

After that we retired to the beach and enjoyed the sunshine for a couple of hours before the flight. It was absolutely stunning, and a real pleasure to see reams of waders; Ringed Plover, Sanderling, Dunlin, and Turnstones on the beach with Curlew, Lapwing  and Golden Plover en masse in the fields. The seaweed jumped with alba wagtails and a few Wheatears. A ringtail Hen Harrier was a nice bonus. 

Back to the airport for 5pm before a breathtaking flight back over Mull to Oban. The weather was so glorious that even the pilot took photos, and descended between the mountains in full 'pleasure flight' mode. Back in the car at 6.15, we stopped only at the famous Green Wellie services and I was home just shy of midnight. Splendid.

Sabine's Gull, Hale, 9th September 2020

A juvenile Sabine's Gull was reported on the Mersey at Hale in the evening of 8th. An amazing record at a relatively inland location, but I hadn't expected it to stay so continued with my plans to pay homage to the vulture. News duly came through that the bird was still present, so I called in on the way back. I was assuming it was loafing distantly on the estuary, as might be expected from a pelagic species originating from the high arctic, but this individual had chosen to forage behind a muck-spraying tractor on the arable fields that I know well from last year's work surveys. A superb wee bird.

Irresistible Vulture 6th and 9th September 2020

The continued residence of the now famous vulture in the Derbyshire Hills, just to the east of Manchester, proved irresistible. I visited a couple more times, mainly in the hope of some of the point blank views that it seemed to allow at times. Whilst I saw the bird each time, and the views were excellent, I never managed to nail the hair-parting photographs. That's not just because of the views though, it's also my photographic ineptitude.

On the 6th September, the vulture showed only distantly, but there was nice compensation in the form of a ringtail hen harrier cruising along the moors. On the 9th, the lammergeier was repeatedly buzzed by a female goshawk, an incredible site. Great to see some other raptors on the moors, and it's hard to know what to make of some of the continual vitriolic debate at times. I have no doubts there is a serious issue with raptor persecution, but that doesn't mean it's all estates. Let's hope enlightenment prevails.

Back to the birds, red grouse were also seen in the valley, as would be expected, but the number of passage ring ouzels was amazing and not something I've witnessed before. My high counts were 13 and 22 on the respective dates and it was a treat to watch them feesting on rowan and moving about in large flocks. 

LAMMERGEIER!!!!! 11th July 2020

The appearance of a young lammergeier in Gwent in summer 2016 came as a shock to Brit birders. For a few weeks it made sporadic appearances over Devon and Cornwall, and many of us made attempts to chase it down. Almost no one connected before it headed back over the Channel. Most of us assumed a reappearance anytime soon was unlikely. 

It seems incredible to think of a wild vulture on our shores, but nevertheless there are several old records. I remember reading about them as a kid birder, in particular a famous Black Vulture in mid Wales in the 1970s which had been put down as an escapee. Some remained unconvinced by the escape ruling, citing the ancient records of other vulture species. It’s clear that, historically at least, vultures  have occurred in the UK. A recurrence always seemed fanciful in my younger days; we live in an impoverished continent and populations had crashed. But conservation efforts begun in the mid eighties had started to pay off, and by the early 2000s Griffin Vultures begun to occur with increasing frequency just across the Channel. By the mid 2010s they were an annual occurrence and flock sizes numbered in the tens. Sometimes the regular Griffins were joined by a Black (now Cinereous) vulture. It was certainly on the cards. 

Adding to the success of European vulture conservation, Lammergeiers were beginning to re-establish in the Alps after extirpation in the early 1900s. This massive and magnificent species has clung on in the Pyrenees, but elsewhere across the mountain ranges of Europe has fared very badly for the last century. As the 20th century progressed, scientists and ecologists begun to understand how vultures played a vital role in healthy montane ecosystems. Efforts to conserve and increase all species were commenced, which meant the start of a reintroduction programme to the Alps in 1986. Re-establishing such a large, slow breeding species is a gargantuan task. It was always going to take decades, but its worked and now the species is firmly back in the Alps. There’s lots of excellent information on the Vulture Foundation website (here). I’ve seen them whilst snowboarding, and also whilst on summer holiday in the Alps. As numbers continued to grow, wandering young lammergeiers have started to appear well away from the mountains across Northern Europe. These included released and wild born birds.  Just as with the other vulture species, the appearances in Northern Europe were unexpected; was this a consequence merely of increasing populations and the natural wandering of youngsters, a reflection of changing climate, food shortages in our tidier environment or something else? No one knows.

In May 2020 a young lammergeier was photographed over the Channel Isles. It was even seen to head north into the Channel and there was brief hope that it would soon be in southern England, but shortly after it was back in France and moved eastwards and was seen in Germany and Belgium. It was photographed over Ghent on 20th June. Then, completely out of the blue, it was photographed over a garden in the West Midlands. Luckily the photographer realised it was something unusual and posted images on Twitter and broadcast to an astonished birding community. A few hours later it was seen heading north over the A50 in Staffordshire - surely it was headed to the South Peaks? Over the next few weeks it was reported sporadically, but the weather was poor and there were few eyes searching. 

In the first week of July the net started to close in, tempting birders to put some time in, but efforts were scuppered by the Portland Shearwater. Then on Friday 11th July,  with the appearance of some gripping images from near Derwent Reservoir and a reasonable forecast, a number of birders coordinated efforts in the area. After being off work on Wednesday I’d been unable to go. In the afternoon Dan Pointon, who else, picked it up across the reservoir. A few more connected, the rest of us watched with envy. Those on site thought it may have dropped in a remote clough, but couldn’t be sure. Despite having reasonable distant views, to their enormous credit, Dan and two others drove several miles round and then speculatively hiked up to the Abbey Brook clough and - remarkably - found the bird roosting on a cliff.

This was the opportunity we’d been waiting for. It remained on the rock until dusk. A dawn assault was required. So Malc, Mark, Phil and I met up at 2am, arriving in Strines an hour later to start the 1hr 45m steep uphill walk in the dark. Nightjars churred on the edge, grouse called from the keepered moor. It was a slog, but I really enjoyed the experience. The last few hundred meters meant leaving the track and crossing bog. Despite our early start it was well light by the time we arrived and around 30 people were already there. Just as we reached the group someone shouted - the Lammergeier was flying! 

It's impossible not to be blown away by such an enormous bird. It was mobbed by tiny kestrels, just to add a little perspective. It drifted away down the valley, but thankfully was ever lost to view and it turned back, making a superb close pass before alighting on it's favoured ledge where it remained for the next hour or so and giving ridiculous views. It regurgitated some bones and flesh and proceeded to pick at these; Lammergiers are the only species on the planet with stomach acid sufficiently strong to dissolve bones. Once adults, bones form their exclusive diet, but young birds like this one are not yet able to do so, and scavenge instead.

This bird has, understandably, led to a great deal of interest from birds and the public alike. It settled in to the area and was visited by many hundreds over its lengthy stay. Naturally, there are very many images of this bird, almost all of which are better than mine! 

Aside from the kestrels and the occasional buzzard, there were few birds up on the moor, although a Red Kite flew over at one point. 

The long walk down was made in buoyant mood. In the end the walk wasn't needed. The bird moved to the Woodhead Pass area, east of Manchester, and I saw it another 3 times in the coming months.

It's a year old bird, but the lack of rings or wing-bleaching shows it to be a wild-born bird. At least one of its parents is very likely to have been released, and so this becomes a complicated matter for the BOU to decide which list the record sits on. Given the 2016 bird was added to Category E, it is unlikely to make the grade. Personally, I feel this is a strange stance - at the end of the day it is a wild-born bird from the species' natural range. The Vulture Foundation consider the Alps population to be self-sustaining, but it seems there are multiple ways to define self-sustaining. Of course I'd like it to be 'countable', but for once I don't really care. It is a wild vulture and a truly magnificent bird and a thoroughly enjoyable and unique encounter. 

Shear Madness 8th July 2020

The continued intermittent sightings of the now famous, yet still elusive, Lammergeier had many of us trying to second-guess its next appearances. It seemed relatively settled in the South Peaks, but pinning it down was another matter entirely. In the preceding days there had been tantalising photographs and reports from the Stanage Edge, Frogart and Curbar Edge area. Yet the recent poor weather and paucity of confirmed sightings scuppered any serious attempts by birders to connect, despite valiant efforts by a few. It was videod at Curbar again on 7th July and the weather for the following day was passable, if not ideal. Worthy of an attempt and hopefully the poor weather beforehand had kept it local. 

Birders agreed to spread out across the area for the day and hopefully between us we could finally nail it down. Except birding never works that way. Just as myself, Malc and Paul Baker were arriving news started to come through that a Yelkouan Shearwater, initially photographed the previous day, was still lingering off Portland Bill in Dorset. We put it to the back of our minds; we were here for the vulture and shearwaters don’t linger anyway. For the next hour or so we watched half-heartedly from Curbar. The hoped-for clearance of weather didn’t materialise. The shearwater was still there. We probably all knew where this was headed. I cracked first and suggested we headed south. The others didn’t need persuading and that was that. A convoy of vehicles set off from the Peaks to Portland. 

When I was a kid there was just Manx Shearwater, although to be fair the ‘Mediterranean race’ birds were always markedly different. As taxonomic understanding progressed ‘Meds’ were split from Manx. Then, more recently, Meds from the western part of the range were split again into Balearic Shearwaters, with birds from the eastern Mediterranean now becoming Yelkouan Shearwaters. They are all, by seabird standards, reasonably distinct given the right views, although today’s events would prove those views need to be exemplary. To add a final spanner in the works, there has been a very recent discovery of a new, small population of breeding Balearic x Yelkouans on Menorca. These birds tend to look like Yelkouans and are probably indistinguishable in the field, but are known as Menorcan shearwaters and for now are considered hybrids. Whether the Dorset bird could be confidently identified as a pure Yelk was another matter. 

So, five hours after leaving the murky hills, we arrived on the south coast on a sunny but blustery day. It seems that there are increasing numbers of Balearic Shearwaters each summer in Lyme Bay, attracted to shoals of whitebait - this was why the rarer bird was lingering. On arrival there were about 30 Balearic shearwaters immediately on view, mostly sat on the water at remarkably close range. But the light wasn’t great as we were on the western side (the Pulpet), and the swell and wind meant separating Balearics from the Yelkouan type wasn’t initially straightforward. To add to the confusion there appeared to be more than one Yelk, and a few Manx in there too. 

Thankfully it wasn’t too difficult to determine the Yelk types once you got your eye in, and it/they were distinctively smaller than the Balearics. But it remained confusing whether there were really two and which of these was the bird photographed yesterday. It was a case of waiting until the birds flew and then trying to get the underwing pattern. Easier said than done when the birds tended to only fly short bursts or in a feeding melee. Still, I was soon reasonably satisfied that I’d seen at least one Yelkouan Shearwater type and managed to get reasonable views of the underwing pattern too.

After about 45 minutes the Shearwater flock shifted a little east, congregating off the Obelisk. This small shift vastly improved viewing conditions. The shearwaters sat and fed close inshore for the next hour or so, every so often dispersing then returning shortly after. One of the Yelk types was on constant view, albeit mostly sat and stubbornly difficult to see well in flight. But over the duration of our stay we managed some excellent flight views too. One of the Yelk types had a far more distinctive underwing bar than the other and so was presumably yesterdays bird. Personally I’m of the opinion both of these birds were Yelkouan types as they certainly weren’t Manx or Balearics. Whether one or both could be Menorcan birds is impossible to know, but the BOU / BBRC position on hybrids is straightforward - unless a bird shows visible hybrid features then hybrids are discounted. In other words this bird (birds!?) has to be accepted or Yelkouan should be re over from the British list. 

So from a listing perspective, job done. Despite the challenges I really enjoyed the experience. It’s rare I get to see Shearwaters well from land and it had been instructive. Back home around midnight - the vulture would have to wait.

Photos below are all nabbed from the WhatsApp group and I’m afraid I don’t know whose they are - apologies if that sort of thing offends you (although does anyone really care?).