Tuesday, 6 October 2026

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# Hudsonian Godwit (Limosa Haemestica), Black-tailed Godwit (Limosa l islandica), Bar-tailed Godwit (Limosa lapponica).

 I have a desire to pit myself against the Hudsonian Godwit. This rare vagrant arrives almost without warning, and I have long suspected that finding one amongst a flock of Black Tails must be one of the sternest tests of knowledge, skill, concentration, and luck.

So here I am, now having seen the long staying bird at Cattawade, and I have some answers...and some questions.

The Cattawade bird turned up in July, first dropping in to Minsmere (via Portugal, it seems, which is interesting in itself) in full breeding plumage. The dark and rich red chestnut underparts contrasting with the pearl grey head and neck, with gold spotted black upperparts and wings like burnt paper, obscured shadows of summer patterns on a few coverts. I don't think there is anything too difficult about a bird in such finery, even if it is worn and lost in a post breeding collection of black scattered ferrous Icelanders trembling in a heat haze.

No. It's the basic plumage of winter that must inevitably pose the biggest problems, and at Cattawade I had not only a perfect opportunity to follow a single bird processing through its moult, but more importantly, a perfect opportunity to familiarise myself with a 'Gray American'. I said 'Gray'.

Across four visits in August, I watched the bird gradually shed the last of its rufous flanks and cloak its back with grey, until all that was left of the summer was the sepia tertials and coverts, and an orange smattering between the legs.
I watched it in bright light and dull, morning haze at distance, close range with the sun overhead, and the soft neutral 'prime' of dawn. 

Ok. So this is a limited case. A study group of one. That's a big caveat. Everything from here on in must be tempered by the question - just how typical is this. for the time being, I'm going to assume that nothing about the bird is out of the ordinary. Until another one comes along, I think it's pointless assuming otherwise. But always, at the back of my mind is the possibility born from years of looking at Black Tails, that this bird is doing something different, atypical or otherwise annoyingly aberrant. 

There are two things to think about when trying to separate this bird from the Black-tailed Godwit. Form and colour. Both categories contain features that vary from the totally subjective and context dependent, to the (tentatively) objective and diagnostic.
The biggest trouble in identifying a Hudsonian Godwit is that the most diagnostic feature is rarely visible.
But having put in the hours, I think I can say that it's possible to be fairly confident without seeing the black underwing, even at distance. 

Dealing with form first, the most striking aspect of the Cattawade Godwit was the proportions of its body. It looked small headed and large bodied in comparison to the surrounded islandica Black Tails. Shorter necked as well. Looking at the data gives a clue as to what's going on. Wing length across the two species is comparable - especially between haemestica and l. islandica. It's the tarsus measurements where the two part ways. The average male islandica has a tarsus measuring 68.7mm (as per BWP, Cramp et al) while even the largest female Hudsonian tarsus is no longer than 60mm (HANZAB) and the male average is a mere 52.3mm. Given their bills are equally long, this difference in leg length translates to a difference in neck length, with the Hudsonian looking more 'dumpy' and less 'svelte' than islandica. From the beginning, I was struck by how close to the structure of Bar-tailed Godwit this bird was. The similarity extended to the shape of the head - with the Cattawade bird showing a subtle peak to the forecrown (compared to the square head with at most a peak well behind the eye on the rear crown in Black-tailed) and bill slightly more upturned than that of Black-tailed, lacking the subtle 'bulb' at the tip shown by that species.

At the other end, the Cattawade bird showed a noticeably longer primary projection, another feature more akin to lapponica.
So that's the key. A bird that looks like a Bar-tailed Godwit, but with Black-tailed Godwit winter plumage.


And this is where it gets more difficult. It's not always easy to see structural details. If a bird is sleeping among a flock in belly deep water, things are going to get very hard.
So there has to be clues in the plumage, doesn't there?
I was lucky to see the Cattawade bird in the company of a few Icelandic Black Tails, and the comparison suggests that in winter plumage, Hudsonian Godwits are slightly (yet noticeably) darker necked. There's a smokiness to their upperparts that extends onto the flanks. In neutral light the foreparts look strikingly brown, made all the more distinct by the pale cheeks and bold supercilium.
In brighter lights the bird does look paler, though retaining the overall brown appearance, but the new scapulars and coverts acquire a blue hue totally unlike the grey seen in limosa. Well, maybe not totally unlike it, but I swear there is a difference. Describing colour is notoriously difficult. It requires a common understanding that is rarely communicated in the brief and poetic lexicon of personal experience. I'm not sure what it means to be smoky brown versus ashy grey, pale slate versus blue umber. Nevertheless, these are the terms I'm sticking to for now. Put simply, if the Black-tailed Godwit is grey, then the Hudsonian is both browner and bluer. That's a description dependent on time and place and I'm either talking nonsense, or I've accidentally unlocked the possibility of a four dimensional definition. It's a tenseless definition that must encompass, as far as possible, the ephemeral effects of natural light.

Even at long range, the pale cheeks stood out on this Cattawade individual. Throughout its stay, this feature was easily the most obvious difference between it and the Black Tails. I'm not sure how diagnostic it is. I've since seen quite a few photographs of Hudsonian Godwits that do not show it.
But....
Some of my photographs and footage don't show it either. 
It seems that, at least on the Cattawade bird, the pale cheeks are sometimes lost in bright light at certain angles. Is this what's going on in these other photographs? Turning to other sources has been of limited help. It seems that there's a dearth of illustrations of Hudsonian Godwits - at least in my own library. Sibley and Hayman do not seem to have noticed the cheeks in any confident way. Both have illustrated them with not much more than a gesture. Lewington seems to see something there in his illustration of a juvenile, but nothing like as obvious as the Cattawade bird. The plumage description in HANZAB does mention it, though suggests it is a feature not observed in all birds. So while it might not be diagnostic, when it is there, I think it pretty much rules out other species. Even looking at the endless variations observed in Black Tails, this pale cheek is something I have not seen - at least not in the same way.

                       


Finally, the colouration of the bill. There's a strong black colouration to the upper mandible (culmen) extending from the base to the tip. Black Tails do often show a dark ridge to the culmen, but it's never as extensive down the sides. In Hudsonian, the effect is of a black upper and pink lower half to the bill, whereas in Black-tailed, the contrast is between black outer half and pink inner half.

So there it is. A foolproof way of identifying a Hudsonian Godwit just before it opens its wings and flies off. Maybe.
It's not smaller than Black Tails, but it is shorter legged and necked. It looks small headed and large bodied.
Structurally like a Bar Tail, coloured like a dark Black Tail with paler cheeks.
One day I hope to test this ID outline on another bird. See if it stands up to scrutiny. Like with many identification problem species, accurate diagnosis depends on a suite of features that add up to a whole. When the most diagnostic of those features are not seen, the question becomes - how few are needed to make a correct interpretation? Structure seems to be the most reliable character, but this of course demands complete familiarity with the structure of Black Tails. Colour seems like it has potential to make things easier, but also the potential to cloud the issue. I can imagine seeing a bird that doesn't look noticeably different in colour to the other birds around it, and at greater distances, any slight difference in tone may be lost anyway.
All this is to say that it's very possible to miss a Hudsonian in a sea of limosa.
But then again, with a bit of luck and application, one might stick out even in winter plumage.
And yes, I realise I put 'shorter bill' in the comparison video - it seems that was a mistake, there is not much difference in bill length between all three species but I'm not going to try to edit the video now.
 


Wednesday, 5 August 2026

Clearing


The early summer is an excellent time to pop out the pheromone lures and see what Clearwings are around.  These day flying moths are tricky to find and observe without the lure but an hour or two with the pheromone out and often one is attracted  - I tend to limit my trapping to once a season in the garden, just to confirm presence and absence.  

Here are some graphic, and ultra contrasty images - they're easy enough to identify with a quick flick through a moth book - Lewington always recommended.

Answers on a postcard........


Friday, 3 July 2026

Less Is More

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-uAhLnIqhU

After a decade or so of local searches, I found a breeding site for Lesser Emperor just a stone's throw or five from my front door, The site at Ben's Yard Reservoir, hasn't been accesible for very long but from late June onwards the site has been excellent for these recent colonists from the continent.  As I have understood a little more of the habits and behaviour of these great dragonflies, I have been hoping to find a confiding individual that didn't immediately fly off or wasn't completely battered and wing damaged.  This one was almost that - certainly a vast improvement on previous efforts.  As I watched the Emperor it dawned on me that I must have been close to a Reed Warblers nest, the birds coming very close, warily as I clicked away.  I did move away swiftly once I realised I was causing a problem for the birds, and they got on with their feeding once I'd stepped back a few paces.








On the walk back, one of several Emperors, themselves still expanding their distribution northwards and further into Scotland, lingered on a stem.  This reminded me of a drive in the Camargue a few years ago where I had to stop within a cloud of Lesser Emperors disturbed from their roadside rest upon reeds and bushes in a damp, woodland meadow.


Not in Stuntney - this Lesser Emperor was in The Camargue



A Forest



It's that long-awaited time of the summer, the hour upon us to head to the woods, a forest or for us folk in the flatlands, a fen.  Iris is on the wing, His Imperial Majesty flies.  

At Woodwalton Fen there's no less flight action than at other sites but attention quickly becomes focused upon the high frequency of alighted indivduals of this beautiful butterfly.  There are many more opportunities to view grounded Purple Emperors at Woodwalton than at almost any other site, as they habitually visit the thatch, window frames and weatherboard of Rothschild's bungalow throughout most mornings.  The bungalow is a historically significant building in it's own right, the original HQ of the British conservation movement, fostered by Charles Rothschild through the late Victorian age and through to the 1920's.  Nestled within a verdant, natural ampitheatre and set beneath a couple of regal oaks, this beguiling building , an oversized summer house on stilts, offers all comers the assurance of a special view of an Emperor, a grounded individual, vertical and at eye level.  A mid-morning visit  on a sunny, still day during the first weeks of the flight period will guarantee a view - often several Emperors frequenting the bungalow at any one time - and keep an eye upwards as more will be glimpsed gliding over the oaks and nearby sallow forest.  

I have accumulated quite a library of digiscoped video of Emperors at Woodwalton, recorded over the past 3 years simply by placing my ancient smartphone lens and telescope eyepiece in alignment.  I've not been sure what to do with the clips - as they became increasingly focused on the detail, zooming in closer and  closer, as the hours of joyous observation drifted by.  For fear of leaving them sitting on a hard drive, all wrapped up neatly in their zeroes and ones, I've done a bit of a dump and edit and made a DIY compilation, a punkish production, on video - in modern metaphor a hybrid love letter/mixtape/visual sonnet to a favourite butterfly.  Some, of the Purple Persuasion, might appreciate the dreaminess and abstraction of the slow-motion and close ups, a different view of iris, this butterfly that evokes obsession - on the other hand others might not like the arty approach one little bit. Horse/Courses.


While at Woodwalton this week there was plenty to look at aside between time with the Emperors - from the lilting heads of the living museum specimen plants, Fen Ragwort, to the vibrant Scarlet Tigers that seem to be everywhere this year, throwing themselves into a colourful flurry of wings as they bumble over and through the vegetation.




Emperors have also been on the wing in Ditton Park Wood, where generally they stick to parachuting around the treetops in sweeping glides.  Also here were fresh Ringlets, a beguiling and pristine scissor-cut Comma and a couple of tangarine-coloured Silver-washed Fritillaries.



Tuesday, 30 June 2026

Homelands



You might be forgiven in thinking the photo above is a fangled AI abberation, Attack of the Killer Hovers, but no it's the result of a photo bombing by a Wicken hoverfly, caught by some camera flash during a DIY photoshoot, trying to get a image to accompany an article for a forthcoming edition of Birdwatch magazine.

June is a great month to stay close to home, everything is kicking off, the flora in full on lusciousness and invertebrate interest reaching a peak.  Down at the Wildspace the Odonata proliferate and it's surely only a matter of time before we realise that getting "hotspot" status with the British Dragonfly Society might be a really good idea - it's a great place for Dragons and Damsels.  Recent colonists Norfolk Hawker were particular noticeable, nudging their way into the reedside domain of the Scarce Chasers and, just emerging, Ruddy Darters.







Four-spotted Chasers have emerged ditchside, almost everywhere, battling in ferocious dogfights for territory and coupling rights.  




Since my first Marbled Whites in the garden last year they've rallied and in a year where they are in abundance across Ely Wildspace, their presence as a fixture around the house, in the little meadow bordering Stuntney Heights, is an absolute pleasure.  Purple Hairstreaks are around the oaks at the back of the house and White-letter Hairstreaks around the elms at the front.  Several Hummingbird Hawkmoths have been around the Lavender bushes most days.  The garden Clearwings will have to wait for a later post, but there's been plenty enough - including some crazy numbers of the, until recently, nationally extirpated Dusky Clearwing.














Tuesday, 9 June 2026

SuperFly

 



Around SE Kent in late May and early June there are loads of orchids to be seen.  Between our searches for Beavers and woodland walks at Blean we visited Park Gate Down and Yockletts Bank.  At Yocklett's Bank we walked through the woodland, expectant of finding a good show of Lady Orchids, whether we missed the key area or whether there had been an early bloom that we had missed we are not sure but sadly we didn't find any.  Neither did we find any evidence of blooms that had gone over, although we did find plenty of long finished Common Twayblade.  Redemption from our flawed hunting prowess came when Steve found a couple of tall and beautiful Fly Orchids alongside the path.  Although more frequent, and widely distributed than Lady Orchid, these were the species I was most keen to see, plenty of time was spent at ground level drinking in this subtle and fantastic plant. 



At Park Gate Down we had a similar experience, the chalk grass land flanking the steep valley side was full of orchid spikes, hundreds upon hundreds, of predominantly Chalk Fragrant and Common Spotted (some with lovely, almost white blooms) and a sprinkle of Pyramidal Orchids.  We found what looked like a few Man Orchids that had gone over but to our surprise what we didn't find were any Monkey Orchids remaining, they must have flowered early and fast following the very hot second half of May, or maybe our eyesight just let us down.  We searched hard but it's always good to have a reason to return.