The Beast

https://rustedrail.bandcamp.com/track/the-beast-2

The forecast didn't look great for very much on the east coast with SW veering W winds and westerly airflows across the continent right out to the Urals.  Jono had the day off work and I was visiting the folks in York so we headed out to Flamborough early doors.  After the ever perilous descent beneath the fog station we settled in to watch the sea for a bit.  There was lots of light, mostly southerly, movement of duck which accumulated into more impressive numbers.  The variety was pleasing, offering good identification practice as sea and freshwater duck, waders, gulls and incoming passerines all presented points of discussion.  

Just shy of 4 hours later we headed up to the cafe for a bacon bap and on checking the bird news saw that there had been 2 White-billed Divers seen flying South at Hartlepool Headland just 30mins earlier.  That changed our plan to walk the headland and we headed back down to seawatch.  Brett Richards had been good to his word "What time are you giving it til Brett?"  "10 minutes after you lads" his deadpan answer.  😂😂

We kept watch and count through till 1.45 - we figured 2 hrs was long enough for a diver to have reached us.  Having scaled the cliff again we headed down to the golf course willows and as Jono walked up the path I stayed on the open side checking for movement.  I had routinely kept my eye on the sea when suddenly a large, brown and white diver appeared flying across the bay just offshore - in my binoculars it looked exactly as my search image for White-billed Diver should, I shouted very loudly to Jono to get on it and got my scope on it - boom.  I worked instantaneously down the bird noting sandy brown colouration, thick neck, no dark collar, no cap, smudgy open face and then the clincher a huge pale banana bill.  I hadn't time to put my tripod legs up and too quickly the scope views were gone and I was left hollering directions to Jono who was running down the path and following the bird in the bins as it flew out of view past the headland.

I wasn't cool over this sighting and froze, stunned, just repeating "I don't know what to do."  Jono took charge, he'd seen the bird but wasn't on the adrenaline hit I was riding.  We did take ourselves back to the fog station to check whether the couple of birders we'd spoken to had seen it and to check if it had landed and put ourselves in a better position if it happened to fly back North for any reason.  After a good search we decided to settle ourselves with a check of old fall which, apart from a dozen or so migrant Blackbirds, was as quiet as we had expected.  Later in the evening news of our diver heading South past Filey at 2pm was welcome.  The bird was described as " a beast of a diver" and I couldn't agree more.

Drive Blind

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=x8W6X8X_ApM

An early October Birdo weekend based on the Norfolk coast began to unravel a little as it became clear that Mark H was going to be too unwell to join us.  The discovery of a Long-toed Stint in Yorkshire had started to wobble Jono's resolve too.  Nonetheless we started out at dawn down the shingle of Blakeney Point with a gentle south easterly whispering in our ears.  The beautiful blue skies didn't nod towards any migrants making landfall but it was gorgeous to be out.

The flat sea was dotted with auks and divers and as the tide rose flocks of Wigeon and Brent Geese filled the shallow bays and creeks.  At the Plantation on the Point there were Brambling, Chaffinch, Meadow Pipits and Reed Buntings picking at the brances and leaves.  A few Blackbird, Song Thrush and Redwing hinted at the migration that typifies many autumnal mornings on the coast.  From Yorkshire news came in that the Long-toed Stint was still present and we headed back with haste as Jono was commited to the twitch.  Long and short I went too.

Next morning we worked the coastal belt from Holkham to Gun Hill.  It was unnervingly quiet and it seems many years since I walked this route without a few Yellow-browed Warblers to brighten the search. There are many worse places to go for a walk but the birding was very sparse.  The only thing to do - go to Titchwell.

There was plenty to see on the seawall walk out to the beach at Titchwell and the Golden Plover were particularly beguiling. 

Jono headed back to York mid-afternoon and I headed to Gypsy Lane, slowly pottering out to Brancaster I was enjoying some close up Curlew when the strident "schweep" of a Richard's Pipit overhead jolted me, thankfully it wasn't too high up and easily located as it called again heading out towards Thornham Point.

I went back to Titchwell to enjoy the late afternoon spectacle - thousands of Starling began to gather and cover the bund pushing off the Golden Plover. There was plenty of interest in these as a young Rose-coloured Starling had been joining the throng.  With lots of eyes checking it wasn't too long before a call went out for the Rosy - I was in luck as the pallid bird popped out at the front of the flock right in front of me, my phone was dead through taking so many wader pictures, so no pics unfortunately. The chattering mass of Starlings swirled over the reedbed and beyond them 70 or more Little Egrets roosted in the pines, 3 Great White's towering over them within the snow flurry of small herons.

On the marsh gulls accumulated and a very smart 1st yr Med Gull was joined by a few Yellow Legged Gulls and 2 adult Caspian types that kept the interest going.  As the sun dropped, huge straggling skeins of Pink-footed Geese made their way to roost on The Wash.  There are few better places to spend an autumn evening.

Hebridean Majesty

 

Hebrides

After a day-long drive we slipped out of Ullapool into the growing darkness, and headed into the deep velvet blue. On waking, the silent loch, flat calm, greeted us in sunlight. Robins and Stonechats pecked and checked from every bush and fencepost, and wrens called from every dark corner.

The rugged coast hid white sandy bays with smoothed rocks piled up as giant shingle. Small waders and pipits searched on the tideline or rested on the flooded slacks. Throughout the week, geese and a few swans began to arrive too, though from a different direction to the one we had taken to get there. Offshore, Gannets, Cormorants and Shag passed by from time to time, lingering on the autumn sea.

One mistful morning, the clearing wind brought with it Redwings in ones and twos, and some Brambling. They didn't linger and soon we were left with the resident Redpolls and Starlings. 

At the Ness, the loch held birds from much further afield. Four Ring Necked Duck bobbed on the open water, drifting past the flock of chestnut coated Wigeon. A Lesser Yellowlegs and three Pectoral Sandpipers spooked from the plover flock and landed on some grassy puddles on the edge of the reserve.

The Golden Plover, Lapwing  and Curlew spread out on the machair while gulls loafed in a white huddle. A Merlin dashed at the Teal, cold white and grey Hen Harriers sped across the view and a male Peregrine exploded among the waders - picking out a Snipe, chasing it down and defying momentum with time stopping turns and breaks.

and then....

 

They're Coming Mr Frodo...

 

Blue

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=NiMbqZqjZFI

During the last week of August and into September I started a bit of a campaign to lure the near mythical Clifden Nonpareil to the garden.  First off Evie made some moth lure from a recipe in her WildTimes (RIP YOC) from the RSPB, I added some red wine and we daubed it across the boughs of the fruit trees.

I then made a seperate concoction of fermenting plums, molasses and red wine which I thought might just increase the chances of bringing a blue underwing to the light.

I was only a few days into my campaign with my light running and the fruity booze lure plated up when the incredible happened.  I routinely go out hourly to the light until I go to bed, my last check at midnght on the 7th Sept had me literally dancing for joy.  There in the torch light on the white sheet I place under the trap was the stone and cobalt form of a Clifden Nonpareil, I was ecstatic and shaking when I popped a tupperware box over the beast and brought it inside.  I kept it in the fridge and a few Ely folk, who could, had a look before it made it's bid for freedom and departrd into the warm Elysian evening air.

It was a week of wonders as the pull of the White Tailed Plover became too much to resist.  Having arrived at my adolescent haunt of Blacktoft Sands, East Yorkshire on the 26th during our monstorous Sheringham seawatch, this fantastic looking bird is still present a month on.  Really enjoyed spending time watching it over a special sunday morning visit.

white rumps

A few weeks ago I took the opportunity to visit Minsmere, where a White-rumped Sandpiper had been found among the flock of Dunlin. They're perhaps the commonest of the American calidrids that find their way across the Atlantic, and over the years I've seen a few around the British Isles. They may not have the bright patterns of Dunlin and Curlew Sandpipers, or the subtle beauty of the Little Stint, but their attenuated elegance and energy make them very watchable, and like all American waders, they're often very approachable. 

Adult Summer plumage - Minsmere Summer

1st Winter plumage - Ballycotton late autumn

   Juvenile plumage - Grafham Water Autumn

Lightning Bolt

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8JpHoAnaPK0

While enjoying the sunshine on the Cornish beaches in light easterlies (but not enjoying any seawatching) I looked to the week ahead and saw a promising push of northerly winds through the North Sea just as I was due to return to the fens.  A few plans put in place and arriving back in Ely about 9 on Wednesday 25th, I got a bit of sleep but was heading out to Sheringham with Mark and Ben by 5am on Thursday morning.  

As we drove over it looked like the wind was not as strong as we had hoped.  However as we walked down to the shelter on the seafront the wind was fierce enough and the waves were pounding the sea defences along the front.  The shelter was pretty full and we'd just missed a Cory's heading East.  It was a solid watch till midday with a steady movement of Arctic Skuas and Bonxies, the odd Sooty Shearwater, a few more Manxies and a good variety of wildfowl and waders - excitement had come in the form of a Black Guillemot charging through the swell, a well spooned adult Pom Skua and a Black Tern but no Long-tailed Skuas or Sabines Gulls which we thought might pass.  Folk started packing up and a family squeezed into the shelter wafting lovely Fish and Chip vapours triggering envy.  I broke cover to get us something to smother in salt and vinegar and on my return joked that if a Pterodroma had passed while I was at the chippy it really would have been taking one for the team.  We gorged and shortly after returned to focus on the sea, a few things got called at the same time, one of which must have been a Manxie.  I was checking a skua that had gone east or something when Mark said "that's not a Manxie" with enough quizzical urgency that I swung back to his midday line and asked "Where?" his direction was good being pretty well straight out and as soon as I got on the bird things went bonkers as, at long range, a bird I immediately recognised as an Albatross broke the horizon. "Stay on it Mark, that's a 'kin albatross" I took a calmer second to be sure I wasn't making a huge blunder while Mark tried to make some sense of what I was suggesting.  On auto-pilot I hollered "Black-browed Albatross, straight out, on the horizon - I am not joking" 

All but one of the remaining seawatchers got on it quickly and we had about 2 minutes worth of this huge winged monster, arcing and towering above the horizon and rolling down on bowed wings.  I lost the bird as the shelter pillar obscured my view but others stayed on it and then, coming up to a boat, it seemingly vanished into the horizon haze.  I looked around into the next booth of the shelter, seasoned seawatchers looked shakey, pale and stunned and then came the congratulatory handshakes, smiles and amazement and discussions about the bird and it's features, jizz and identification.  It was such a surprise, a lighting bolt and a surreal fulfillment of a seawatchers pipe dream.  An Albatross on a UK seawatch - I'm pinching myself just writing it.

Ben's eye view of the Albatross and it's arc

At the range we saw the bird, specific identification of the albatross would be difficult but in all probability this was an adult Black-browed Albatross, the possibility of it being the bird enjoyed by so many of us over the summer, taking a sojourn from the cliffs at Bempton was discussed.  I last saw this bird just a few weeks ago off the cliffs, at quite some distance offshore, and the similarities in flight, proportions and jizz were overwhelming.  I was also transported back to seawatching off the South Island of New Zealand, which I did many times, where Black-browed Albatross was a common bird amongst an array of other Albatross and tubenoses.

It took a bit of time and effort to get back into the flow of the seawatch, the images and thought of the Albatross kept blowing my mind and conversation kept returning to it but then a call for Cory's Shearwater had us in a blur of horizons and directions and I connected with an uncharecteristically speedy bow winged large shear' carving the horizon.  Then the Black Guille came back heading East and Skuas kept coming.  Eventually the hoped for Long-tailed Skuas appeared, 3 singles in total, all juveniles heading East and a fantastic flock of Pale Bellied Brent heading West all adding to the quality of the supporting cast.  We eventually called it a day close to 7pm - a 12hr seawatch of truly epic proportions.  Wowzers.

 

Slight Return

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qFfnlYbFEiE

Mid-holiday we broke from the mainland and headed on the mighty Scillonian, past the iconic Runnel Stone, for my second dose of Scillies magic.  The kids buzzed from spotting dolphins and were even enthused about the Manxie's.  Once visiting the islands we had a great time searching out landmarks and locations from the Micheal Morpurgo book Why the whales came.  Another great Michael Morpurgo short story based on Bryher can be heard here alongside others from the Walking Stories project on Visit Scilly.

I was only able to add one pelagic but it yielded a fly through Wilsons Petrel (or two) and plenty of Stormies but not the show I had been treated to previously.  It was great to be out on the sea again though.  On land I squeezed in a look at the Lesser Yellowlegs on the Abbey Pool on Tresco as the girls munched a late lunch in the gardens cafe.

Returning mid-week to the mainland we had a week based at Pendeen.  With slow south to south westerlies I ended up heading back round to PG for speculative watches that notched up Sooty and Balearic numbers into double figures per 3hr watch.  One Sooty stood out, all dark and lacking any striking contrast in the underwing, this bird had elastic almost arctic tern like wingbeats, limited shearing between spells of active flight - a very distinct and different flight.  In structure, size and shape it was clearly a Sooty but one that is still leaving me scratching my head.

The Choughs performed fantastically and I enjoyed many encounters with them, such engaging and characterful birds, I get a huge sense of their intelligence and sentience despite, or perhaps because of, how clown like they are at times (aren't we all).

There was a hint of promise for a seawatch in a smidgen of NW wind at Pendeen on our first day back on mainland, nothing really came of it beyond a few skuas and the bizarre scene of a Glossy Ibis flying past over the shoreline.  The afternoon was booked with visiting friends when the news of a Rufous Bushchat on The Lizard came out.  I'm not sure what happened but I started to make a decision not to go and see it - something to do with my mixed feelings seeing the Norfolk bird I think.  Loose commitments  were a good but not convincing excuse. A bonus on our walk was a very confiding Common Lizard.

Next morning I got up at 6 to head over but decided to go back to bed (???) - it performed all day but we headed to the beach.  Next morning I broke, self defeated in both going for the bird and not seeing it.  What a Chough I'd been.  There was great recompense that morning in seeing a young Melodious Warbler really well, shortly after it was found. It was at Land's End, where I have missed a few in the recent past.  This lemony beauty is relatively frequent in the UK but with a south western bias - a bird I hoped might turn up near to me sometime but never seemed to oblige,  really I had hoped to find one for myself down a Cornish valley but I was happy to cross paths with this one.

Both images from Steve Rogers twitter