If Carlsberg did Twitching...

 Sulphur-bellied Warbler, 8th June 2021

Megas come in various forms - some are long-anticipated firsts, some are historic blockers and others were never on the radar. This was one of the latter, despite there being a single recent Western Palearctic record.

The preceding few days had finally gone 'rare', as late spring can often do.  First a singing River Warbler in Somerset made me realise that I hadn't seen one since 1995 (in Wigan of all places), and before that 1989 (Norfolk). Tempting, but too many commitments to make it for now. Then a couple of days later a spanking breeding adult Red-necked Stint found by old friend Alan Curry on his Northumberland patch. My only UK and only breeding plumage bird was in 1986, so I was keen to see this bird but again couldn't initially go. It's third day was 7th June, so I decided to head up late morning to catch the afternoon tide if it was still present, so was a bit miffed when the early morning news was negative. Drat. Ah well, plenty of work to do right now and so the office beckoned.

At 10.38 on Tuesday 8th June, Birdguides sleuth Sam Viles posted an intriguing photo of an apparent singing Dusky Warbler taken on Lundy earlier in the day on the Mega-chasers group. It was maybe over-exposed, but certainly looked odd. The photo was on Twitter too, and the collective social media ID gurus quickly corrected the identification. It really was the UK's first Sulphur-bellied Warbler. This of course induced wholescale Whatsapp meltdown and my usual pointless and half-hearted attempt at personal restraint. I was, however, fully committed to taking Callum to his first footy training the next day, so resigned myself to the best possible option of Thursday, requiring an unlikely 3 day stay of a mega amongst megas. Hmffff. they'll [sic] be another, as they say. But of course I kept an eye on the relentless messages, most of which were hoping someone else would sort their logistics for them. I will admit to doing little aside from pencilling a place on a Thursday boat, until Andy Lawson posted he was going that evening and prompting me to question how. Dan Pointon saw my message and, most kindly, called to offer me a place on their boat at 6pm. Game on. 

No time to linger, the long drive to Ilfracombe commenced immediately, with only moderate faffing whilst Malc and I tried (failingly) to coordinate travel. We would have to each go separately. I even left £200 cash in the ATM in my panic to get on the road (hopefully this will be returned, otherwise a very expensive trip). I was parked in the quayside carpark at 5.15pm and joined the small band of gathering birders. After the predictable jostling for spaces it all worked out fine and three boats set sail. Two other boatloads had left earlier and were already on the island.

Our boat was a fast rib. Fun and rapid, ideal. We embarked at 6 precisely and arrived on the island just before 7 (it's taken me 2.5 hours before now!). The crew were friendly and helpful, but entirely nonplussed when we vehemently declined to pause for a pod of close by Common Dolphins. We sped on across the flat calm sea in the sunshine. Razorbills and Guillemots were on the water, with a couple of Puffins. Numerous Manx Shearwaters cruised alongside the boat looking stunning in the evening light. But of course our focus was on the rock looming out in front of us.

We disembarked to be met by a few familiar faces, all smiles and full of optimism for our chances. The climb from the key up to Millcombe Valley isn't too far, but it's relentlessly steep. My recent fitness regime paid dividends and my own speed and stamina I surprised me. It's fair to say most birders need to be a fair bit fitter, and I'm usually one of them! 

I'd last visited Lundy in October 2018 for an ill-fated Green Warbler dip in the same place and that  miserable trip was on my mind as we romped up the hill to Millcombe House. The bird had been showing until about 10 minutes before we got there but disappeared in to some pines. The sun was dropping and the valley falling in to shade, it seemed more likely to have moved further down.

After about 15 anxious minutes, it was picked up in a sycamore about 25m away. It showed well enough for around a minute, but at this distance it was little more than a dull phyllosc with a bright super - distinctive but hardly crippling. Then it was lost. SULPHUR-BELLIED WARBLER OML (557), albeit not exactly satisfying views at this stage. 

Another 15 minutes of nothing, so we spread out. I headed further down the valley to the sunlit trees where a Chiffchaff continued to sing. It was well in to the evening and birds were still active, but time was against us as we had to be back at the quay for 8.30pm.

Thankfully the SBW appeared in some close trees and for the next 15 minutes was on show, albeit often flittingly through the tree tops. It eventually dropped down to ground level for a couple of minutes and the views were much better as we looked down on it. Still not the point blank views enjoyed by others, but nice enough and all features visible. Whilst a relatively non descript bird, it was unlike any familiar phyllosc species - dull brownish upperparts contrasting strongly with a bold yellow supercilium which was brightest in front of the eye. I was expecting a more robust, Radde's warbler-like bird but it was more chiffchaff like in structure than I had anticipated and I could see why the finders had initially tentatively identified it as a Dusky. The yellow (sulphur!) underparts were striking when lit as the bird was in the trees, but in duller light not so much. 

Sulphur-Bellied Warbler, Lundy 8th June.
Both photos by Ash Howe (@Ashley_Howe1990)

The better views were a massive relief, and we made our way back to the quay on time. The return boat trip was fun and relaxed, more seabirds but mostly tonking along at speed with the skipper clearly enjoying himself by overtaking the other birders rib and then doing doughnuts. We were back in Ilfracombe in 50 minutes, all smiles. 

Just five boats had made it, carrying 42 birders in all. With negative news the next day, this bird could be set to be a major blocker for years to come. However I really do feel for the dippers, we've all been there and will be again, and it's not a good place to be.

I drove the couple of hours to the RSPB Ham Walls reserve in the Somerset levels to sleep in the car; it would have been too rude to drive right past that River Warbler. 

Eastern Subalpine Warbler, Spurn, 28th May 2021

Subalpine Warblers used to be just that, one species fits all. I've talked about splits and lumps often enough, so won't repeat myself. The long and short of it is that there are now three species: 

- Eastern Subalpine Warbler

- Western Sublapine Warbler

- Moltoni's Warbler.

All three occur in the UK, with the latter the rarest and the other two frequent. I'd twitched a Moltoni's in Norfolk in June 2018, and have doubtless seen multiples of the others given that Subalps are more scarcities than rarities. ID is straightforward for spring males, but far less so for females and autumn  immature birds. Unfortunately in recent years I've only seen autumn immatures and my older records of spring males are mostly not well enough documented to be able to distinguish. 

So for now I've had 'Subalp sp.' on the list (as well as Moltoni's), but for the last few springs I've meant to chase down spring males of the Eastern and Western make. An easy tick opportunity not to be ignored, but one that there was no hurry for.

So when a singing male Eastern bird was found at Spurn on the evening of 27th May I made plans to set-off on news the next day. And so it played out. Simple journey and walk to chalk bank. It took a while to show but eventually showed very well. Super little bird too.

EASTERN SUBALPINE WARBLER OML (556). 

Images by Brian Martin and Karen Jayne

 

St Aiden's RSPB, Leeds, 19th May 2021

The RSPB does a pretty impressive job of creating and managing wetland reserves. St Aiden's, just outside Leeds, was once know as Swillington Ings, back in the heyday of Yorkshire coal mining. The Thatcher years of the 80's famously laid waste to that industry and decimated the dependent communities, leaving an industrial moonscape of former opencast mines in many areas. Nature, of course, has a remarkable way of recovering, and this particular area flooded in 1988 after the collapse of a riverbank. Coal production finally ceased in 2002 and the owners commenced work with the RSPB to create a sparkling new reserve that also provides open space for recreation. It's really impressive too.

I'd recently been talking to the RSPB's Gavin Thomas about habitat management on the patch, and about their work at Woolston Eyes near Warrington. He waxed lyrical about what had been achieved at St Aiden's, so I had intended to visit already.

The appearance of a breeding plumage FRANKLIN'S GULL amongst the huge numbers of breeding gulls proved sufficient motivation to make that visit. After a brief text convo, Phil and Malc decided to join me and we were on the road around 11am.

I've not seen a Franklin's gull since the 1996, when I had pretty poor views of a winter adult soaring over a tip in Gloucestershire. Before that I saw a few in Texas in 1992, but my most memorable one was way back in May 1987 - another spring adult - but this time on my (now) patch of Neumann's Flash. A proper patch mega! That bird had been on a Friday evening, and rather amazingly I saw it again on the Saturday morning at my then patch of Rostherne Mere. 

Back to today's bird, this one spent a bit of time in Yorkshire early in 2020 (then in winter plumage), then was seen in Norway (Jan 2021) and Belgium (April 2021) before returning to Yorkshire. The fact it has one leg makes it somewhat recognisable! 

Arriving late morning, the impressive reserve sprawled out in front of us from the elevated car park, with a brooding darkened sky above. As ever a gaggle of birders was a visible clue to the direction we needed to head. Five minutes walk later we  had pretty much reached the dozen or so birders as we realised the Franklin's Gull was pretty much the closest bird. It showed ridiculously well for the next 30 minutes before flying off in to the middle of the reserve and throng of gull nests.

Phil's flight shot.

A Common Tern sat on a nearby post, being regularly fed by her mate and so presumably about to lay. Swifts darted by at head height as a storm passed by, forked lightning and rumbling thunder but thankfully the rain missed us entirely before the storm cleared away. It was an impressive spectacle, thousands of gulls, nesting Lapwings and waterbirds all over. A Bittern boomed. Reed Warblers chugged.

We then took a relaxed stroll around the reserve, simply enjoying the proliferation of commoner birds. One of the reserves specialties is  Black-necked Grebe; the three breeding pairs here seem to have habituated to people and the views of this stunning species here are wonderful. 

Bearded Tits pinged unseen in the reeds, a Grasshopper Warbler reeled away and breeding Pochards and Shovelers seemed common too. Bird city. A Roe Deer was contented to stay in the open. 

We headed  back to the car, past the gigantic former mining machine (a 1,200 drag line excavator that was once the largest in the world), just as the heavens opened.  

A great day out and a reserve I'll visit again.

A Grand Day Out, 20th April 2021

A rare day off work warranted a change of scene. My recent trip to the Tenby Walrus had been a relative success, but it felt rather like unfinished business; great views of it in the water but it had steadfastly refused to haul out, so we hadn't seen it's full glory.

So another early-ish start, setting off at 5.30 with Paul Baker. It was a glorious morning and the 4 hour journey flew by, lightened by the odd Red Kite, and we arrived without incident at 9.30 and strolled through down the high street to the harbour and now famous RNLI lifeboat station. It was of course immediately apparent and thankfully hauled out. Over the next 1:45hrs we soaked in the spectacular beast as it loafed and lazed, rolling on it's side and back, then shuffling further up the ramp was the rising tide lapped it's substantial rear-end. Compared to photos taken a few weeks ago when it first appeared, he (or she, the jury seems to be out) had clearly put on a substantial amount of weight. In fact he/she looked positively rotund. A good thing for sure and hopefully it will manage the long journey back home, presumably to Greenland.

Footnote - 20th September 2021. The walrus has been photographed in Iceland today, identified as the same animal due to distinctive marks and grazes on each front flipper.

Whilst the walrus napped, scanning offshore on the flat calm sea revealed a handful of feeding Gannets, Manx Shearwaters, Razorbills and Guillemots. It was good to hear and see Sandwich Terns and 5 Whimbrels flew past, my first of either species this year.

By late morning we had filled our boots and it was time to move on the the second part of the day. After a quick stop in the souvenir shop (Walrus mugs all round), we set-off west joining the M4, crossing the Severn Bridge and arriving on Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire around 3.30. The famous Plan is an area I'd never visited and always felt like a hole in my personal experiences of the UKs region. Like many of our rarer habitats, Salisbury Plain has survived the ravages of modern agriculture as it's an MoD training area. Military presence is evident everywhere. 

The reason for our visit was naturally unrelated to tanks, but to witness the fledgling but expanding reintroduced Great Bustards. The https://greatbustard.org/ has done  a superb job and despite numerous set backs and constant financial shortages, there are now roughly 100 bustards living and breeding in the wild. Releases ceased in 2019, having been annual since 2003. It was always going to be a long process to establish a population of this massive bird with a complex social structure. The group now believes that they are now self-sustaining and apparently a paper is in preparation. Many birders remain cynical of this, or the long term viability of the project, and it seems premature to declare success but I sincerely hope the birds flourish. There hasn't been a vagrant Great Bustard in the UK since 1987 (and I still regret missing those Norfolk birds), but many now believe they originated from a German reintroduction project anyway. Regardless, we weren't here to tick, just to enjoy. I suspect it'll be many years before the BOU accepts the self-sustaining argument but hopefully one day this amazing conservation project will also benefit my list. 

Arriving on the Plain we followed the directions down wide dirt tracks, somehow failing to notice the red flags initially, but noone was around. The Plain is spectacularly open, with big skies and massive grasslands creating a sense of an African savannah rather than middle England. 

Corn Buntings rattled everywhere, such a rare site these days watching them sing was a pleasure. Skylarks were also abundant. 

As we neared the lek area, our first Great Bustard flew across the road in front of us, or more lumbered, dropping in the the field we had directions too. More birds were immediately on view, seventeen in total. Adult and sub-adult males strutted in a bare field, with multiple much smaller females mostly remaining in the adjacent Plantain field. Regardless of their current status, they were impressive and fascinating to watch. The males would periodically display, tuning themselves in to giant fluff balls, but the females ignored them. One male in particular seemed larger and more dominant, big daddy bustard no doubt.

Somewhat naively, we had paid no attention to the red flags flying, assuming that here on the public access track we were fine, but apparently not and after an hour or so we were politely moved away by people in uniform. So we decided to head to another spot up the road for another southern grassland specialist; we’d been given an easy site for Stone Curlew and we were soon watching four birds in an area set aside from them. Two Northern Wheatears, Stonechats and Yellowhammers also enriched the experience.

We then headed back for a bit more bustard action, choosing not to see the red flags this time. The birds continued their performance in the evening sunshine and very pleasant it was too.

Brown Hares, Roe Deer and Red Deer all seemed common, and a Barn Owl hunted around a farmyard in the early evening.

A good, if long, day out.

Thermal Jacks

 05th April 2021

A quick dart to the patch to meet up with a passing-through Dan Pointon finally made me try the recent winter's trend of using thermal cameras to locate Jack Snipes. Without the techno aid it's pretty much impossible to find these birds on the ground, but with the camera it could scarcely be easier. It took about a minute to find the first one and very soon we tallied at least 9. They are so confident in their incredible camouflage that you can approach to within a couple of feet. Or at least you can if you don't sink in the marsh like I did. 

Mocker Shocker 10th February 2020

It was bound to happen sooner or later; a major rarity in a garden, during lockdown. In fact after the rarity bonanza of the autumn the lack of wintering rarities has been noteworthy. Perhaps nothing has been found, or maybe we are yet to hear of  more rare birds lingering across the nation, then kept quiet as a consequence of Covid. 

But a midwinter garden rarity happens regularly enough for it to not be a major surprise, even if the species itself is. It turns out this one was not suppressed, quite the opposite in fact. Poor-quality photos Tweeted on Saturday 6th February by a resident of Exmouth hinted at something very rare, but were far from conclusive. Some responded to say they thought it was a grey wagtail, but to me it had a 'New World' feel to it. I wasn't sufficiently convinced to raise my head above the parapet, but I kept a close eye on my phone. In the end it didn't take too long; an hour or so later a clearer photo emerged and showed the birds' identity. It was a NORTHERN MOCKINGBIRD, the third for the UK. The better photo had been taken that very morning, so it was still there. The house owners had been watching the bird for several days and had correctly suspected the ID during the recent RSPB 'Big Garden Birdwatch'. I doubt they fully understood the rarity of the bird though, or that it's presence would cause such a dilemma for so many.

In normal times this would be a straightforward 'twitch-on', but of course these are not normal times. The location had been easily found and shared, but any attempt at twitching it was clearly a breach of current lockdown rules. The social media daggers were out for twitchers immediately; this had the potential to get very messy indeed but to be fair it was entirely understandable with the country in the grip of another Covid lockdown.

Chat on the Whatsapp groups was at least constructive. Clearly some people were going to go anyway. So if you did go, keep it quiet, absolutely no social media, respect the residents, be brief and get out of there quickly, and follow social distancing/face covering rules. Most of us, me included, watched and waited to see what happened next. I struggled with the inner demons and questioned both my sanity and resolve, not to mention my social conscience.

A few bolder individuals went on Sunday morning and quietly reported that it was easy to see from an alleyway to the rear of the garden, and that the locals were so far welcoming. Mockingbirds are thankfully very conspicuous birds, so it was possible to connect quickly and leave. Whilst the police had been informed (via antis on Twitter), they did not attend or appear to be concerned. And so it continued for the next couple of days - the anticipated storm didn't happen, or hadn't yet. The total social media embargo by listers appears to have helped keep the dissenting voices to a minimum. 

Hearing that the bird could be seen easily from a quiet alley tempted others, and quickly there seemed to be a steady trickle of visitors. No one was saying anything, not even on closed Whatsapp groups, but the silence itself was deafening. I spoke to a couple of people that had been and they all reported easy and uncomplicated success. My resolve was - predictably - weakening and I started to convince myself that I could go safely. If I filled-up at home, travelled alone, took my own food and remained entirely away from others there was no risk to anyone. Get there first thing, see the bird and leave in minutes. No build up of people. Why not, well aside from the fact it is against lockdown rules and, legally, not likely to constitute a 'reasonable excuse' for travel? Still, despite the fact that I was confident that there was no risk of increasing Covid transmissions, I wasn't keen on the idea of being stopped by the police on the motorway, or being made subject of trial by social media. A new kind of dilemma for the addiction to twitching.

On Monday 8th February I had cause to travel to Stoke on Trent (legitimately). It was the first time I'd ventured on the motorway since lockdown and I was shocked at just how busy it was with cars and trucks. Fears of being pulled by the police disappeared instantly. The inner voice of temptation was getting louder.

So on Wednesday 10th February I sett off at 4.00 am and drove along a remarkably busy M6 and M5, arriving in Exmouth around 8am and parking in a nearby Co-op carpark. It was a short walk and then a sharp turn down the back alley behind Iona Avenue. Happily there was nobody else there. The stepladder up to the 'viewing wall' that had been kindly out out by a resident was still in place, along with a donations bucket. All it needed was the bird, which appeared within 2 minutes sat in it's favoured holly. It showed well for the next fifteen minutes, mostly in the holly but dropping down out of site a few times. It was that easy. I was back in the car by 8.30, in the office by 12.30. Now it was time for the kangaroo court to begin.... 

Winter Is Coming

We got away with it in October; travel was unrestricted and with a bit of common sense it was both possible and acceptable to twitch rarities. But Covid-19 was never far away, and it came as no surprise that a national lockdown came back in to force on 2nd November. Thank heavens for local birds. 

8/11/20

Amy and I went to see the starling roost at Marbury, and very impressive it was too with arounf 15K birds (apparently) putting on a show. A sparrowhawk successfully hunted, carrying away a screaming bird, and a bittern flew across the reeds too (there are already two present this winter).

15/11/20

After a week of glorious weather whilst I was stuck in the office I finally got out on Sunday afternoon with the hope of improved views of bittern, one of which showed very well as it hoped for a starling-sixed snack. The starling roost was limited to just a few hundred birds this evening and they dropped in quickly. sure enough the bittern stalked off in that direction - I wonder how many they grab at night? Four redhead goosander were on the Mere, but that aside little else. 

One of two bitterns. A bird I never tire of seeing locally.