ALBATROSS!!!! Bempton Cliffs, Yorkshire, 5th July 2021

There are few birds that inspire birders as much as albatrosses. They are the majestic giants of the harsh southern oceans, very long-lived and somehow wise, almost mythical beasts. Very few are seen in the northern hemisphere and a trip to New Zealand to see some of these behemoths is high on my to do list. One day.

We do, however, get one species in the UK from time to time. Like any rare seabird, many records are flypasts for a diligent seawatcher. But unlike other rare seabirds, there have been a handful of individuals that have lingered in gannet colonies in the UK, no doubt hoping to attract a mate and returning annually to the wrong end of their oceanic world. Most famously, 'Albert' spent most summers from 1972 to 1995 on the cliffs of Hermaness, Unst (Shetland). Before that a bird, or perhaps Albert, spent a few summers in the late 60s on the Bass Rock in Lothian. More recently, one spent two summers on the extremely remote island of Sula Sgeir in the mid noughties. These had been successfully twitched in their time, and I had made the pilgrimage to see Albert on Unst way back in March 1991. I'd not seen an albatross since.

In 2014 a bird appeared in Germany and became regular on the island of Sylt (nowhere near a seabird colony - it chose to hang out with mute swans there instead), but periodically appeared in Scandinavia and then put in a few brief appearances in the UK - at Minsmere (Suffolk) and slowly became annual at the Bempton (Yorkshire) seabird city. However despite it's annual visits it never lingered.

In 2020 it finally stayed a couple of days at Bempton, but other commitments stopped me from making the trip. I was truly gripped by the photos and vowed to make haste if it did the same in 2021. But in spring (around April) it was reported in Denmark being chased and attacked by up to nine white-tailed eagles. That must have been some sight; it was lost to view but the observers unsurprisingly thought it had probably perished. It seemed to be game over for this particular bird and to my aspirations to see another UK albatross.

Then, almost exactly a year after last years visit (28th June), it reappeared back at Bempton. Albert (they are always Albert) was resurrected! Some birds are made of stern stuff. 

But unfortunately I again couldn't travel; missing my own 50th celebrations would be more than a little selfish so I put Albert out of my mind and enjoyed a really lovely birthday. He stayed two days again and disappeared once more. Ah well, there was hope for 2022 at least. The photos we're once again absolutely stunning and I was definitely a little miffed at his timing again.

Thankfully the new Albert had other ideas, and reappeared a few days later before finally settling in to a semi-regular pattern. Luck was needed, but if you timed it right he was there for the taking and looking set to become a more regular fixture on the Yorkshire coast. 

News that he was on the cliffs late in the evening on Sunday 4th July had me shifting work arrangements around. I couldn't miss this opportunity, work would have to wait again.

An early-ish morning start saw me arrive at Bempton at 7.30 and by 7.45 I was positioned at the New Roll-up viewpoint looking east. A few others were already there and had recently seen the bird soaring  further to the east. Within minutes it appeared, briefly flying out before heading back in to an unseen bay. Finally, BLACK-BROWED ALBATROSS.  Phew. The pattern was repeated before he finally came our way and soared over the cliffs, trying repeatedly but unsuccessfully to land amongst the gannet throng. This pattern was repeated all morning and the views were excellent (if not as close as some had enjoyed). What a glorious bird to watch. Breathtaking stuff.. The photos below are all shamelessly 'borrowed' from more accomplished photographers (mostly Graham Catley) than I will ever be.

The cliffs of course teamed with Gannets, Guillemots, Razorbills, Puffins, Kittiwakes and Fulmars, but if I'm honest I paid them little notice today. Above the cliffs the farmland is managed by RSPB for birds and teemed with Tree Sparrows and Corn Buntings sang in the background. I had to drag myself away to get back to work. Hopefully I'll meet Albert again soon, he's worth the return.

Shetland, 20th to 25th June 2021

After several failed attempts at a summer trip to Shetland, it was with much anticipation that Malc, Phil and I headed to Glasgow airport for the evening flight to Sumburgh. The prospect of Orca and breeding waders and seabirds was an exciting one, the UK's own Arctic north.  

The trip was smooth enough, well aside from Malc leaving his photo ID at home and news of a Short-toed Eagle on one of our survey sites, and we were met by a newly newly bespectacled Andy Carroll at the airport and went to the Sumburgh Hotel for dinner after pausing in the car park to watch Arctic Terns and Twite on a sunny evening, chatting to a full suite of clan Pointon. After dinner we headed to our digs at the Sumburgh Lighthouse, a spectacular location. Seabirds abounded, with masses of Puffins naturally the stars.

The ever-endearing Atlantic Puffin. Can you ever get bored of them?

We were up and out early on the first day; I spent an hour or so from 4am enjoying the seabird spectacle around our digs before breakfast. As well as the auks, Kittiwakes called and Fulmars soared. Bonxies patrolled both colour phases of Arctic Skua soared. On land there were sinking Shetland Wrens and Starlings amongst the lighthouse buildings.

We soon headed north to Loch Clumlie. Strangely we found neither of the target birds here, but still enjoyed the breeding Red-throated divers and bathing Arctic Terns.  It was bright but a cold north wind made it hard going, and after an hour or so headed north again, stopping at South Nesting Bay where we failed to see the elusive White-billed Diver in a short stop. Our destination was Unst. By the time the we had arrived the wind had eased slightly, so we set off in search of the recently reported female Snowy Owl but again no avail, same with the nearby Rose-coloured Starling. One of those days so far, but still enjoyable to see so many breeding waders and soak up being on these spectacular islands. Our luck slowly started to change - the famous pure albino Great-northern Diver showed (at great distance sadly) and we heard singing Marsh Warblers at Kirk. Opting to search again for the owl, three of us chose to walk the ridge of Muckle Heogh, meeting Andy back at the far end. The owl appeared to have left the area, but the walk was really enjoyable, with breeding Whimbrels, Dunlin, Golden Plover, Ringed Plover and a couple of stunning Arctic Skuas for company.

Whimbrel. A regular spring passage species back home, but it's always interesting to see a different aspect of a familiar species' lifecycle - the first I've ever seen on breeding grounds.

Dunlin. I was surprised to hear that they are locally known as 'plover's apostles' as they apparently associate strongly with breeding Golden Plover. Every day is a learning day.

We retraced our steps and our target failures as we made the long journey south (via the famed chippy in Brae). Beers and sleep.

Day 2. Still too bloody windy. Back to Clumlie where we immediately saw Red-necked Phalaropes and up to five of these charismatic birds showed really well. After an hour or so the summering adult Long-tailed Skua finally appeared, making a couple of close fly-pasts before settling, but frustratingly in the distance. An absolute corker of a bird though. We didn’t have time to linger as we were due in Lerwick for the Shetland Seabird Tours Noss boat, run by friends Phil Harris and Becca Nason. The trip was far better than I’d anticipated, in fact one of the highlights of tour time on Shetland. Viewing the seabird city from a boat puts a wonderfully different perspective on the experience, and the Bonxies taking mackerel from Phil's hand were entertaining. But the Gannets were the stars - using a tube to drop mackerel underwater drives the birds to plunge dive all around, even splashing us as they went in. Awesome!

Female Red-necked Phalarope. Tiny Arctic waders that spend the winter in the Pacific Ocean off the Galapogos. That's an astounding journey of at least 10,000km for a sparrow-sized bird. Unusually, females are brighter than males as the species is polyandrous, i.e. the female mates with multiple mates and lays eggs but does not assist in the raising of the young.

Long-tailed Skua; a species which nests only in the high Arctic and not in the UK. This is the only UK summering bird, now in it's third season in the Clumlie area (both photos by Hugh Harrop). 

After the boat we decided to give the resident  Snowy Owl of Ronas Hill a go. This is a wild part of Mainland, and the drive up became increasingly slow and remote. Phil had told us of the best areas to search, but few seemed to ever connect. To have any chance we would need to undertake a long walk, and Andy had already decided to remain with the car and listen to the Euros. We managed to persuade our hire car up the steep track to the mast, and from there the massive scale of the search area was all too apparent. We started to ready ourselves with layers and water, but Malc spotted a distant white blob on the hillside. Surely not? Scopes out and before you know it Andy was doing a jig - the famously tough-to-see male Snowy Owl had surrendered immediately. Incredible luck! We were joined by a couple of other birders from the boat before walking up the hill for closer views. It was impossible to get close, but the scope views were superb. This is how a Snowy Owl should be seen, in a place that feels like  the edge of the earth. It was my third UK Snowy, and I saw two in the US years, but it’s not a species you tire of. Phil and I tracked further for closer views and it was a thoroughly enjoyable hour or so. Aside from a couple of Golden Plover and Bonxies, the only other signs of life up there were three Mountain Hares. We called in at Rerwick again on the way back, but this time the calling Corncrake was obliging, at least vocally.

Best image I could manage!

Alan Lewis' better image, taken last autumn.

The next and final town full days were hampered by fog then heavy rain, but we still managed to enjoy the birds and good views of a couple of Otters, soaking in the breeding auks, terns, phalaropes (again) and other waders, Whooper Swans and general proliferation of northern wildlife.  News of a Green Warbler on Fair Isle briefly added excitement until we realised it was impossible to get there in the conditions. Orca had been a main target but none were reliably seen during our stay, and the more regular pod was down on Orkney. But despite some frustrations, I thoroughly enjoyed Shetland in summer and will definitely be returning. In fact I can't wait!

Tesco Dip - more Vulture Shenningans - 15th June 2021

Early June had turned in to a tsunami of excellent rarities and so the appearance of something just as mega as last week's Lundy warbler wasn't entirely a surprise, even if the species was.

On the 14th June a non-birder photographed a large raptor on St Marys, Isles of Scilly, which was quickly confirmed to be an adult Egyptian Vulture. Shortly afterwards it was found on Tresco and provided the sort of views and experience that birder dream of for those fortunate enough to be on the islands that day. The photos were truly gripping.

Thoughts of escape likelihood on reintroduction offspring were quickly rebutted, this bird very much seems to be the real deal. It was an un-rung adult and the date fitted neatly with a handful of other  recent northern European records. 

Most definitely twitch on, and I managed to bag Malc and I two spaces on a charter boat from Penzance at 8am the next morning. We were joined by Mark Sutton and Simon Slade for the overnight drive. 

The bird hadn't been seen since mid afternoon but seemed likely to be around and there were very few people looking, so we were hopeful. 

Two boatloads gathered on Penzance quayside, and were naturally delighted when news came through that the bird was present again on Tresco, visible distantly from St  Mary's. Game on and another boat trip.

The boats set-off bang on cue at 8am and we sped across the Atlantic. Shearwaters, auks and dolphins were seen but largely ignored. Messages continued to come through that the vulture was still sat. We were due to arrive directly on Tresco around 9.30. Then at 08.55 the disastrous news that the bird was no longer in the tree, possibly flushed by the first arriving helicopter of the day. Never mind, it was around and we were almost there. Plenty of hope.

As we approached Scilly we had been scanning, but of course it's impossible to do so from a speeding boat. Then after we'd slowed to ease in to the quay, a shout from the other boat. It was back in the tree!!! A white blob was visible, surely that was it....

Except it wasn't. A white branch at an annoying angle. And so the game began, half-baked non-birder sightings and complete string led us a dance all day. Hope repeatedly offered then once again dashed. But the long and the short of it was that we didn't see it. Even the morning's sighting was cast in to doubt for a while, but the distant photos do seem to show it really was there. 

We probably missed it by under an hour. A bewildering dip. Where did it go? How on earth did it slip out without being noticed. A great bird in a beautiful location missed by a whisker. 

We could have done no more to get there, but the ping pong of supposed sightings meant this was a harder one than normal to take. It's definitely the hope that gets you and the journey home was a long one. Unlike Simon, I could at least console myself with last week's successful trip to Lundy, he and plenty of other people dipped both.

Two high speed boats departed from Penzance, the Falcon and the Raptor. We were on the latter, but it proved to be our only raptor of the day sadly.

As a footnote, just a few years ago the idea that vultures could appear in the UK seemed fanciful. The increased number of Griffin vulture records in Northern Europe in recent years has suggested that this species might get here eventually, but other species are much rarer. It's remarkable then that in no time at all we have seen two Lammergeiers and an Egyptian Vulture appear. Hopefully more of these superb beasts are yet to come.

The Morning After

Ham Walls RSPB, 9th June 2021

Arriving around midnight following the previous days success, I soon passed out in the car. Whilst not exactly a perfect sleep, I definitely managed a few hours before the first glimmers of light stirred a Garden Warbler in to relentless song and my cue to fall out of the passenger seat.

Malc, John Pegden, Dan Pointon and I walked the few hundred meters towards the now well worn spot, but the rather loud and unmistakable song of the RIVER WARBLER was audible long before we got there. It was immediately, and pretty much continually, on-show. It may be brown but had bags of character; in fact it barely stopped singing (how do they do that for hours on end?), visibly quivering as it did so. A cracking bird and I was long-overdue another given the 25 years have passed since my last. 

I had hoped for a joyous morning of birding at this famous reserve, one I'd long meant to spend time at. Frustratingly the fens remained shrouded in thick mist and so opportunities for other birding were scuppered as I also needed to go and do some work. Aside from the booming of a Bittern, not much else was noted. Typically, just a few miles away it was a beautiful day. Never mind, I'm sure I'll be back.

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.