Sandbach, 27th January 2022

 A late afternoon visit to Elton Hall Flash yielded adult and 1st winter Iceland Gulls. Before that there were at least 3 Long-eared Owls in the usual roost spot.

January 2022 Local Trips

14th January

Hale Area: no sign of the wintering Firecrest, but a smart male Merlin and several Grey Partridge.

15th January

Delamere Forest: no crossbills, Raven only.

Ince: Cattle Egret x 3, Little Egret x 20.

16th January

Ince Area: Three Russian White-fronted Geese x 3 amongst 250 Pink-footed Geese. 

Marbury: Bittern no-show but Kingfisher. 

20th January 

Little Owl and Brambling at Lostock. Little owls now a local rarity, so nice to spend some time with this one.

22nd January.

Frodsham. Two Short-eared Owls, small flocks of Golden Plover and Black-tailed Godwits over.

Chelford Area 11th Jan 2022

 A couple of hours at the eastern end of my 15km for some high quality local birds:

Great Northern Diver at Mere Farm Quarry, along with 3 Goosander, 2 Goldeneye and commoner wildfowl for the year.

Black-necked Grebe, Great Egret and multiple Mandarin at Acre Nook Sand Quarry.

Two redhead Smew at Lapwing Lane Pool (probably the same two I saw last year here), along with a smart male Peregrine causing havoc to the large gull roost. 

New Year, Slow from the Blocks

Pretty much the last thing that happened in 2021 was testing positive for Covid. Marvellous. New Years Eve was downgraded to a non event, and the first nine days of 2022 spent under house arrest. At least the new garden provided some avian entertainment, after three years in a gardenless rental the open field and mature trees behind the new house have been a lifeline. 

Day ten of isolation was Sunday 9th Jan, and I had to get out. A short jaunt to Frodsham Marsh in the late afternoon proved worthwhile just for the family party of four Bewick’s Swans. Year birds cam aplenty, with the other highlights being two Marsh Harriers, Cetti’s Warbler, Little Egret and 250ish Pink-footed Geese. The 15 mile from the house year list is finally up and running.

King of the Winter Solstice

21st December 2021

Some birds are just special. They have a wow factor. They're not necessarily rare, but always make you look and are always a pleasure to watch. On a local level it might be common kingfisher, firecrest, hawfinch or maybe lesser spotted woodpecker. Most owls and shrikes, waxwing, hoopoe and bee-eaters all have similar effects. Despite having seen lots, you keep looking at them. Perhaps these are the birds that strip back birding to the simple joy of beauty in birds. 

That mantra definitely applies, for me at least, to Belted Kingfisher. I've seen loads abroad, and two this side of the Atlantic, yet when one was found last month just up the road on the River Ribble in Lancashire the urge to see it was irresistible. It was irrelevant that I've seen hundreds abroad in the North America. 

It's still an extremely rare bird in Europe, with just four UK records and five in Ireland. It was one of the birds that inspired my twitching passion as a youngster - I remember being enthralled by Richard Millington's 'Twitcher Diary' book which was an account of his 1980 year list. A Belted Kingfisher wintered in Cornwall in 1979/1980 (in fact staying until August) and featured in the book - that bird more than any struck a chord (although the 'hyper-zonky mega-crippler' Red-eyed Vireo wasn't far behind).

There was a long gap in UK records from 1980. A series of early 80's Irish records (one of which was shot) were all well before my time, and I didn't travel to Ireland in those days. The first 'twitchable' bird of recent times was in 2005, in the unlikely county of Staffordshire and on the even less likely date of 1st April. Naturally the initial report was met with cynicism, which birders posses in abundance. It wasn't helpful that the bird went missing for hours after the initial sighting. Luckily for me it was only an hour from home and worth the punt, so I was already on site when it was relocated at nearby Shugburgh Hall. It showed quite well to a rapidly increasing crowd for just a couple of hours that Friday evening, only to vanish overnight for many more to dip. Incredibly it was relocated in Aberdeenshire just four days later - by the son of the bloke who had found it in Staffs. It then stayed on the River Dee at Peterculter for five days allowing more people to connect. 

Scroll forward seven years to 6th October 2012 and there had been no more records on either side of the Irish Sea. Europe's first Eastern Kingbird had been found on the island of Inshmore in Co Galway, sparking a large twitch from the UK and I headed over with Gregsy, the late Pod and Mark Sutton.  Sadly everyone dipped the kingbird (and I still need it, despite there having been two more since); however a Belted Kingfisher was found just down the road at Lough Fee that day. The views of this bird were stunning - a beautiful day in a gorgeous location with barely anyone else there (most were stuck on Inshmore and failed to get to the kingfisher before it was seen to leave). Definitely adequate compensation for the dip, and remarkably a tick for Mark Sutton (who lives in Staffs but was away for the Shugburgh bird).

So I'd managed two Belted Kingfishers. Fortuitously neither had taken much effort, which for a bird of such rarity and gravitas is remarkable in itself. I've often travelled much further for less spectacular birds. 

The next one was a brief bird on Scilly in spring 2018, which was untwitchable (although some tried and dipped), before a male wintered in County Cork over 2020/2021. The latter stayed for months, but Covid lockdown limited it's appeal. Certainly some diehards went, but the masses don't twitch Ireland and so it was a long sixteen years gap after the Staffordshire bird. A new bird was undoubtedly going to be popular.

This 2021 Lancashire bird was found by a fisherman in mid November, on the River Ribble near Brockholes, where he managed to photograph it with his mobile. It's a good job he did, otherwise I suspect there would have been another bout of birder cynicism. It's a male and so could potentially be the same bird as spent the previous winter in Cork. Plenty went to search up and down the river, but it was two weeks before it reappeared. I delayed heading up there for a couple of hours only to dip, then dip again the following week (a brief Otter was nice though). Viewing on the Ribble was difficult and very restricted. Access was comically treacherous. Some scored, but most dipped. Some had to be rescued by emergency services.  It went missing again, only to reappear briefly a week later, a few miles south on the River Darwen near Roach Bridge, before going missing yet again. Then it was photographed even further south on the Leeds Liverpool canal at Withnell Fold, where I managed to dip for a third time. It was becoming personal, probably as it was just down the road (I wouldn't have made multiple attempts if it was in Cornwall).

In the late afternoon of 20th December news came through that it was back again on the River Darwen on in the same spot near Roach Bridge, and importantly was showing until dusk. Surely it would roost there? Maps showed a private stretch of river with no clear access, but someone was managing to see it. Time for a covert mission. With the help of Whatsapp, a few of us soon had a stealth plan. 

Our small group met at Roach Bridge in the dark at 7.10am. We walked the short stretch of footpath, ducked under one and over another barbed wire fence, and made our way down to the river a little east of where the bird had been reported. It was a cool morning as we waited for the first glimmers of light under a cloudy sky. We were in position by 07.25, but sunrise was not until 08.23. It seemed a long time to stand in the dark, but it was rather nice to be out in the half light at this beautiful location. A woodcock flew over. Then a moorhen called, followed by a few Blackbirds and Redwings. Birds were starting to wake, but it was still far from light when there was a loud rattling call behind us. That was it! Someone said Mistle Thrush, but surely not? At that moment a large bird shot past us along the river just a few feet away. What was that?? It definitely wasn't a common kingfisher (despite the shout). It was surely the bird. Then more loud rattles and there it was, right in front of us! Instant success! The male BELTED KINGFISHER then gave itself up gloriously for the next two hours, mostly perched high as it scanned the river, charismatically bobbing it's head and cocking it's tail. It called frequently. Once again an absolute pleasure of a species to watch, especially so from our privileged position on the riverside. 

Last image by Martin Roper

My third 'BK' in the UK/Ireland, and none involved a long journey to see. I'd never have thought that could happen as I read Mr Millington's 'Twitcher's Diary' as a tick hungry teenager in the eighties.

I dragged myself away and back to the office - today was also Una's last day at Avian Ecology. So a bittersweet day for sure.

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.

Shetland 2021: Day 11

18th October - Homeward Bound    

Departure day, so despite the far more promising conditions Andy and I first dutifully tidied the apartment before readying ourselves for one last half hearted push. Even whilst emptying the bins the sheer numbers of Redwings was a stark contrast to the complete lack of migrants all week. There were birds, but it was wet and windy.

Under the conditions it made sense to head to a sheltered spot, so we settled on Geosetter. As soon as we got out of the car there were lots of birds. The 'tseep' of Redwings and cluck of continental Blackbirds. At last there were Goldcrests in the bushes. There were at least four Ring Ouzels in the valley then Andy dug out our one and only Yellow-browed Warbler of the trip. A fitting bird to finish on and great to have that sense of 'anything could happen' (and the next few days delivered some great birds, but thankfully nothing exceptional).

Beers at airport, then homeward. Not the birdy-est trip, but the Orca more than made up for that and still very enjoyable. Roll on 2022.