Twenty years Part II

Well well. Am I on a roll or what? For reasons I don't fully understand (although I suspect laziness) I've been spending more time skywatching from the balcony recently. Of course what I should have been doing is getting my arse in gear super early and getting out onto Wanstead Flats at first light but I am finding I can't quite get myself over the line. Instead I've been waking up at around 6am, having a bit of a potter, making a coffee, and then sauntering over to the battlements for a squiz at the sky. All nice and relaxed.

This takes me right back to what I found to be one of the most enjoyable features of lockdown, and which somehow I've dropped along the way. Skywatching. Back then I added 15 new species in two years to my at-that-time 18 year old garden list, but until earlier this year I hadn't added a single new species since May 2021. That changed with the singing Nightingale in April of this year, and last month I reached my 100th species with Great White Egret, as recounted here. Mission accomplished, and part of me thought that was that. Not so!

With news from the less feckless out giving it their all on Wanstead Flats that there was a Nuthatch in Long Wood, a highly unusual occurence, I wondered out loud whether there could be a movement happening and might I finally get one on my garden list? About 15 minutes later that is exactly what happened. As usual the Parakeets were drowning most other things out, but from over towards the southern end of Bush Wood I thought I heard a faint call. Immediately I was on maximum alert, every last percent of my hearing focussed on that one horizon, hands cupped behind my ears. Had I imagined it? I had not! It called again several times, the double chuitt one. GET IN! 

Twenty years. Nearly twenty-one. Nuthatch had been high on my list of possibilities, but I had assumed it would be a foraging bird moving through the gardens in winter. Given James' news from the Flats perhaps this is post-breeding dispersal? Equally the birds are resident there and in many ways I am surprised never to have heard one in all of my many skywatching sessions. Either way it is now on the list. I wonder what will be next?

Nuthatch - probably took this over ten years ago

An ideal day

Of course part of me regrets not going to Norfolk to see the Black-winged Kite. Only a very very small part though. I would have made it, it chilled out in the same dead tree for most of the day, but I couldn't bring myself to bother. The time wasn't right. One day it will be and there will be no stopping me, but yesterday was not that day. 

I went birding in the morning. Slow going, the same birds lingering. A steady stream of Swallows on both Saturday and Sunday perhaps the highlight, we can go months without seeing a single hirundine. The same two Redstarts were in the same Hawthorn, it was perhaps just the Whinchat that had changed over at some point. 

Back home I rushed around doing a million things. Busy busy. The biggest thing on my to-do list involved getting up a ladder and cleaning the inside of the conservatory roof which had been bugging me for a while. Lots of mould, lots of stains, lots of spiders. I only nearly fell off once - it would have been a disaster as an incredibly spiky plant would have broken my fall. As it was it merely pierced my arm in multiple places. What's that red stuff on the window? Oh, my blood. Nice. I cleaned that up too. There are a few places that I've not been able to reach but I'll get there in round two, and it looks ever so much better already and for now I'm pretty happy with my efforts. After that I mowed what is left of the grass, had a shower, and clean and fresh mosied over to the fridge to see what was going on.

Fresh anchovies was what was going on. I gutted them - there is not a great deal within an anchovie - and gave them a light coating of olive oil, nothing more.  Also in the fridge were several bottles of wine, including a Tempier rosé that I'd put in earlier thinking that it might be the last chance this year. In a stroke of genius however I'd also put a bottle of Tempier white in there, and it was this I reached for now. 

I grilled the anchovies over charcoal and we ate outside. Wanstead in the first week of September could have been the South of France in May. Occasionally, just very occasionally, I get things very very right indeed and this was one of those moments. The Tempier white was an inspired choice, the combination was terrific. It had just the right amount of body to go with the white meat and just the right amount of acidity to cut through the oily skin, with a delicious sreak of lemon and something herbal going on. Along with some dolmades and olives, and then a cheese board featuring Rove des Garrigues, we had the most simple and wonderful lunch I can remember for a long time. We were transported. This set me up perfectly for an afternoon nap, after which I relit the barbeque and we did it all over again with some chicken I had marinated during my earlier whirlwind of domesticity. No additions to my British list, but I'll likely remember today for a lot longer.

Officially autumn

I think of September as autumn and not summer. Birds do too, although for them the return journey often starts in July. It has been a great summer, there are lots of detractors but I for one love the warmth. The vast majority of my plants revel in hot weather, and it is also ideal for drinking Rosé. Less ideal for what passes for grass here at Chateau L, and I expect that life is pretty tough for many of the birds I so enjoy. One species of something loses out, another steps in. I had my best ever growing season in terms of my plants putting out new leaves, I saw far fewer breeding Whitethroat. These two things probably have some measure of correlation. Nothing is ever perfect but this is the beauty of having lots of different hobbies. One fades, another gains in prominence.

As summer has waned plants have taken more of a back seat and birding has come back to the fore. I've been out quite a lot and a number of the expected migrants have fallen. I actually found Tree Pipit on the same day I published my last post on local birding, but I'd written it a couple of days earlier when in full unstoppable flow and set it up to go live a bit later. A week or so after that I woke up in the night, full of Syrah, to hear a very vocal Tawny Owl somewhere in the neighbourhood. I've been saving that one. And then more recently than that, this weekend I managed to connect with the Pied Flycatcher found earlier in the week by Nick who is unconstrained by commuting and offices. All going according to plan in other words, though I think I might have been in Germany when Tony found a Sedge Warbler. Getting a little late for those though I did have one last week in Fife so maybe there is still time. The good news is that the weather is now more unsettled, and that means that birds may get dropped in. I am here for a while now and hope to cash in, though not at the expense of getting soaked.

Onwards and upwards. 104. Average is what I am all about.

A Wanstead Pied Flycatcher from yesteryear (2015)

More Fife Seawatching

This is NOT what you want at Fife Ness!

I remained in Fife for the Bank Holiday Monday, part of a three day plan to cash in on a seabird bonanza. The opening salvo, as described here, had gone really rather well, and whilst I spent the Sunday birding locally in mid Fife and just pottering around the house, on Monday I was chomping at the bit again. The weather had other ideas. I had popped into Fife Ness in the morning to find it totally dead - clear and sunny weather, barely a breath of wind. Half an hour was all I gave it before concluding that there was nothing to be gained by hanging around. I had a pootle around Kilminning, a Wheatear and late-ish Swift my reward, before deciding that Largo Bay was in fact the place to be. 

I was not wrong, it was superb. As ever I placed myself on Ruddon's Point which allows you to scope both the expanse of Largo Bay as well as the beach. It was low tide and carpeted in Waders and Gulls - nothing special but I picked out a few Bar-tailed Godwit and enjoyed the Sanderling. The water was almost but not quite like glass, with Auks everywhere and large rafts of Eider. It was shirt sleeves weather and supremely pleasant even if there were no stand out birds, it's still a little early for the Divers and Grebes. Away from the water the best bird was a Treecreeper and a site tick, hanging out in the belt of pines on the way to the point. I went home for lunch a happy man.

As good as the Bridled Tern and Cory's Shearwater were, they were both found by other birders. Of course I do not mind riding on the coat tails of others one little bit, but I don't deny that when it comes to seawatching it is intensely satisfying to work it out for yourself. So in the afternoon I went down to Pettycur Harbour, a very good spot for seawatching in the Fife. It is approximately opposite Leith (indeed you can scope the Royal Yacht Britannia) and juts out towards the island of Inchkeith exactly where the Forth narrows. You're low to the water down at the harbour, but the views out are to where birds feed are excellent, and often you find birds come around the corner between Inchkeith and the viewing spot before heading back out, affording good and close views if you are lucky. The previous days had seen Cory's Shearwater, lots of Skuas, and a Sabine's Gull.

I set up the scope in the lower car park and started scanning, initially hard work in the bright sunshine, but the weather decided to do me a favour and as the afternoon passed the light got better and better. The first Skua I saw was a Bonxie headed east and out, passing in front of the island and disappearing around the point. I never saw it again, but interest soon returned in the form of two pale phase Arctic Skua that came around the corner ridiculously close in and then gave a great show chasing (together) and unfortunate Common Tern that happened to be be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Common Terns are remarkably agile, but so are Skuas, it's just extraordinary to watch. A short while after this a nice gingery juvenile Pom pitched up in exactly the same space. It didn't chase anything at this point, just cruised leisurely around. I don't have a vast amount of experience with this species, but I get better each time, and when it flew directly away I got a real sense of the bulkiness of the body that the Arctic Skuas hadn't shown at all. 

By this time the channel had become much busier with a massive flock of Gannets, Gulls and Terns swirling around to the west of Inchkeith. Feeding was constant, and of course in came the Skuas. They were impossible to keep track of - at one stage I got to eight Arctics, including three pale phase birds that I presumed two of were the same as I'd seen earlier. There could have been more than this though, as birds kept wheeling off and either coming closer to me - including the two pale phase birds that stuck together and at one stage pitched down on the water - or heading further out into the Forth where I lost them. The Pom I spotted only once in the fray but it was extremely busy and it could have been there the whole time. This activity probably continued for well over an hour, but then came a conundrum. In the melee a smaller Skua stood out, not only for it's size versus a Tern versus an Arctic Skua versus a Tern (too many versus?), but because of its flight action and habit of almost hovering on high held fast-beating wings before dipping onto the water briefly. Dainty. In short it felt more like a Tern but was clearly a Skua - a pale belly contrasting with greyish uppers and a very pale head. I only saw it chase other birds perhaps twice, and there were none of the sustained and dogged acrobatics of the Arctic Skuas. Was this a Long-tailed Skua? Everything about it felt different, how I wished that there had been someone competent there to verify it. I made notes as best I could in order to try and work it out later.

And later on I did indeed get some help. The following day another birder reported a juvenile Long-tailed Skua from the same spot and so I got in touch to hear about his experience of this bird and described my own. It sounded good. Later that day I then did some internet research - videos of LTS are very limited as it happens - as well as 'phoned a friend'. Piecing together all of these things has left me feeling quite confident, though whether I have enough to get this accepted I have no idea. I'll try though. All of which means that in my mind at least this was a four Skua seawatch. I've done this before down at Pendeen many years ago, but I expect back then I was put onto most of the birds and so by myself at Pettycur last Monday just felt better and more satisfying. No Sab's or Great Shearwaters, they'll have to wait for another time, but my weekend looking at the sea had been nothing short of amazing.

Played for and got

Another day, another attempt at seawatching from Fife Ness. I had not realised it at the time of planning all my autumn trips but it happened to be the Fife Bird Club's annual 'Big Day' at Fife Ness. Perfect. But what would the weather do? What indeed.

It turned out to be rather benign. As usual I might add. You just can't plan for these things, and even if I could I expect something would happen to prevent me seeing any sea birds. An impenentrable haar the most likely. Whatever. I didn't care, I was going to go anyway, even though it meant getting up at silly o'clock. The ancestral seat is in mid-Fife, and Fife Ness whilst not actually that far away, seems to take forever to get to so I don't go anywhere near as frequently as I would like.

I arrived at Fife Ness just after six in the morning. My luck was in and not only could I park down by the shore, there was also one seat left in the hide. Even luckier than that, the creme de la creme of Fife (and Stirling!) sea-watchers were in the hide. I took my place amongst this stellar crowd and started to get my eye in. Manx Shearwaters were passing frequently, almost all north, with the odd Sooty Shearwater. For a relatively frequently-encountered seabird it still blows my mind where these come from.

The first indication of quality came just pretty quickly, with Jared picking up a Balearic Shearwater slowly tracking north. Despite my best efforts to distract him he was still able to give directions and I managed to get on it at the first turbine. Pretty distant all things considered, and I hope to see a closer one at some point. Skuas were fairly numerous, keeping us all interested - you can't beat a good Skua.

We peaked just before 8am. A bird came in really from the south, really quite close. So close that it passed the hide before we really knew what was happening. Initially called as a Long-tailed Skua on colouration, that changed quite rapidly as the realisation of what was passsing began to take shape. Not for me of course, I was very much a passenger still. Jared corrected himself, still not really quite confident in the words he was blurting out.

Bridled Tern. 

Cue pandemonium. Screams of "is anyone still on it???!!". I was, it was heading north rapidly, I tried to give directions but probably just flapped uselessly. We exploded out of the hide as one, running north, shouting to the other assembled seawatchers as we did. Not sure if anyone outside the hide had been on the initial pick-up, but they ran too, around the pillbox to scan the bay to the north. And there it was, flying around in big circles, dipping occasionally to feed. Back to the hide to fetch scopes, it was still utter chaos with Ken trying to shout directions, put out Whatsapp messages ("BRIRDLEVN TERN FN HANGINFG ABOUT" will go down in history), and phone every birder in Fife simultaneously. Gradually common sense returned and a few of us returned to the hide to get the scopes and start watching the bird properly. Colin came out, features started to get discussed, all the while directions stil being given. Amazingly the bird continued to fly around just offshore, not as close as the initial sighting, but the scope views were excellent. As it drifted a little further out it caught a small fish and appeared to then drop onto the sea. I might have been the only one still on it at this stage as most people were distracted by phones, messages, the first tentative photos and identification features, but I was amazed to find that it had landed on a buoy. 

It was very distant, but soon most people's scopes were back on it and a nice line of optics awaited the first arrivals. Malc fetched a few from Crail who had been en route even before this monumental event had occured, and gradually the numbers swelled. I don't know how many eventually saw it but had you been in Fife and moved even moderately quickly you would have been able to get it. It changed buoys after a while but remained in the area for another three hours before heading away and north-east. A first for mainland Fife following a 2013 record on the Isle of May - the two seemed to be treated quite separately.

To say people were elated would be a huge understatement. Huge. Ken was beside himself, a 25 year wait for this moment. A master-communicator (see above!) his sole aim was getting the news out, "check the underwing" frequently instructed! The only confusion species is Sooty Tern - that's black and this was a greyish-brown. I've seen one before of course, recounted here back when this blog was moderately good, but this was in Fife and counts for so much more. Mostly it's notable for being my first ever decent seawatch here during years of trying to time my visits to coincide with something decent. In the days before I had arrived there had been twitchable Cory's Shearwater and Sabine's Gull in the Forth, and Great Shearwater past Fife Ness. This is completely normal and always happens a few days before I arrive. But this time I actually scored, and whilst it was a big Shearwater that I had really wanted, I'll take a mega Indo-pacific Tern.

People trickled back to the hide, the vigil resumed. It would be hard to top what had just happened, but this was a big day and we needed to stick at it. Manx and Sooty continued to pass, but there were long periods of nothing. Greenshank on the rocks, and a small group of Barwit passsed south. Dum-de-dum..... Puffins.......Gannets.......Common and Sandwich Terns. Should I leave? Oh, another Pomarine Skua north, one of three. Maybe I'll stay, after all it's nearly 4pm, not long to go....

"CORY'S!"

"Close in, coming north!"

A large browny-beige Shearwater hove into view at close range, gliding effortlessly on bowed wings past the hide in lovely light. A magnificent moment. As good as the Tern had been, this was what it was really all about. Played for and got. This was the one I had wanted, the one I had planned for I don't know how many times and always got my timing wrong. Other than birds seen from a boat off Madeira - see below - this was easily the best views of a Cory's Shearwater I'd ever had. Sublime, utterly magical. I have been on cloud nine ever since. 

Cory's off Madeira

What is average anyway?

Regular readers (Hi Alan, hi Seth!) will know that I love a list and a stat. A couple of the last entries here have contained a nice round stat, with a Fife patch and my garden both getting their 100th bird. A long time coming. This post also concerns 100, albeit in a more regular way, and the keen-eyed (unsure if this is Seth or Alan) will notice that this is also my 100th post this year. 

Yes, somehow I have engineered things such that my patch-year list has gone over 100 at the precise moment that I tap out my 100th post, and shortly after Letham Pools and the gardens at Chateau L have also reached 100. Timing is everything.

About half of the time I would reach 100 before August, one year I even managed it in April. As you would expect I keep stats on this kind of thing. Love a list, love a stat. So one of my recreational spreadsheets shows that since I started tracking this stuff my patch average by the end of July is only 99. Only once at that end of August does that average rise to 103, and in fact such is the joy of numbers that if I reach 103 in the next week or so then the average will increase to 104. If I reach my average I remain below average? A bit unfair.

Anyhow, the 100th bird this year was a Spotted Flycatcher in one of the burnt bits on Wanstead Flats. It was followed almost immediately by a Common Redstart in the same place. Whilst it's sad that the patch looks like the interior of a BBQ it does seem to draw in the birds, all of which seem to shine out in constrast to their charcoal background.

There are more birds to come. It is Tree Pipit season for starters, and I would expect Pied Flycatcher too. I need to get my skates on if I'm to see a Common Tern though, it may already be too late - they tend to visit the Park sporadically on feeding trips and the need for those may be diminishing or finished. Other targets include Sedge Warbler which I missed in the spring, and I suppose that one mustn't completely discount Wryneck or Short-eared Owl, both of which have appeared towards the end of August in years gone by. And then of course there is all the winter stuff which I missed earlier in the year due to motivational struggles. Fieldfare...

Here's one I prepared earlier

Game changer

It was my birthday a few months ago and my extended family bought me a Coravin. For the uninitiated this is a device where you can extract a small amount of wine from a bottle without pulling the cork and without impacting the continued aging of the bottle. A thin but very robust needle is inserted through the cork, and inert argon gas is inserted whilst wine is extracted. This means that oxygen never comes in contact with the wine, and thus in theory it continues to age as if it had never been touched. This means that you can taste individual wines by the glass rather than committing to opening an entire bottle. In a house where I'm for the most part the only red drinker this could be supremely useful. Possibly this is why the family bought it for me, so that I drink a glass rather than a bottle. I'm touched.

It took me several months to pluck up the courage to use it. Nearly six in fact. The sacrificial bottle was a 2013 Cavallotto. The cartridges of argon gas are not cheap - think ink cartridges for printers in terms of the equation here - so you need to think reasonably carefully about what you use it on and not waste it on something cheap. It's also not entirely foolproof, there are a reasonable number of stories about wine aging prematurely despite the argon, so it's probably not one to use on that special bottle of Richebourg either. Cavallotto's Bricco Bochis is neither of these things and as I have a couple it seemed like a good candidate. Of course it was totally delicious, this is a producer with whom you cannot really go wrong - incredibly fragrant and tasty. The real test will be the second glass that I extract, will the wine be as if I'd just pulled the cork, or will it show some signs of having been opened? Once you've taken a glass and extracted the needle the cork should then reseal itself. Anyway, it's back in the cellar and so far there does not seem to be any seepage, so let's see how it goes. Could be a game changer.

Twenty years

I've lived in Chateau L for over 20 years. A mere blip in the history of such an esteemed residence of course, and who knows what came before, but in this, my 21st year, an important milestone - perhaps the only possible milestone - has finally been reached. 100 birds.

The full garden list is here, and of course normal rules apply. That is to say that this is birds seen or heard from my garden, rather than birds in my garden. Otherwise the list would be about fifteen. It's an important distinction - if I can see it or hear it from within these four walls turrets then on it goes. So mostly it is flyovers, and some birds have flown past just once in those twenty years, or at least just once when I've been here to see it happen. Then again is Osprey a daily occurence? Likely not.

Gratifyingly the 100th bird was one of my top predictions, a Great White Egret. A southern European species that has been steadfastly moving north, it was only a matter of time in my view. It took 14 years to see one at all, but since 2018 I've now seen nine here. Most of them have been seen whilst I've been out birding on Wanstead Flats, elation as still a rare bird by any standard, but often tinged with disappointment knowing that had I been at home the bird would have easily been visible from the battlements.

Finally, this weekend just gone, the inevitable happened. I was at home, or rather back home, having already returned from a pretty mediocre visit to Wanstead Flats. Minding my own business in the kitchen I noted my phone beeping. It was the local birding WhatsApp group, the ever-alert Tony informing us that a GWE was flying west from Alexandra Lake towards Coronation Copse. West is key, it means the bird is coming towards Chateau L. East and it is already too late. 

I grabbed my bins, still on the side from my recent outing, and charged up the stairs like a man half my age. Gazelle-like, possessed, three at a time. How long had it taken him to type the message, should I look out the back or the front? Would it carry on west, would it veer north? Crucial decisions that I've got wrong before, Oystercatcher remains to this day 'heard only'. I threw open the french doors to the balcony. No, it felt wrong. Back to the front, to the tried and tested method that has in the past netted Osprey and Raven, standing on the toilet with my upper body fully out of the velux and thus able to scan 180 degrees unimpeded.

Boom! Perhaps 30 seconds later it actually flew down the street, or at least over the gardens of the houses opposite. Lazy but deliberate, floppy yet controlled. I drank it in as it disappeared north-west towards Walthamstow. It felt like forever but was probably through and gone in a just a few seconds. No time for the camera but that is always a secondary consideration. That  one view is all you need for a garden tick that will remain for time immemorial. Here's what it looked like (though the bill was black on this one), one of my photos from somewhere else entirely. Clearly it would have been wonderful to have had it with local rooftops in the frame, but I'm not fussy, it was still a 'moment'.

Annual

Well it is that time of year again. Grass fire time. Wanstead Flats is being repeatedly set on fire by either idiots or full-on arsonists. In July the bit to the east of Alex went up again, it had just about recovered from the last fire. We lost about ten acres on Monday in the SSSI, and at some point in the the last few days an area near Angel Pond has disappeared as well as a new part of the SSSI.

Motorcycle Wood

It's annual now. Each year by late July the patch is tinder dry, fires just waiting to happen. This was a major fire. I was coming home on the bus on Monday and could see fire engines and blue lights everywhere, towers of smoke and flame. As you can see above Motorcycle wood has been saved by the monumental efforts of around 70 firefighters, but it has been burned on all four sides. 

Walking around the area a few days later, I came across this:

Is it any wonder? When will these things be banned - they're for sale in shops about two minutes walk from Wanstead Flats, prominently displayed outside on the pavement as you walk towards Forest Gate. This falls into the idiot category of course, but I do wonder if these fires are more sinister. They seem to be so close together, only a day or so apart. The cynic in me thinks about someone looking on in delight as all this goes on, and when that high has diminished creeps out and starts another one. Who knows? As far as I know none of these fires have ever been traced to anyone, including the massive one a few years back that nearly caused my street to be evaculated in case it crossed the road. Those flames were several metres tall, I remember the whole area being in a cloud of smoke, it was like something out of Apocalypse Now.

Angel

This is our future. Annual fires destroying the habitat, more pressure on breeding sites and feeding areas. And it seems only a matter of time before one of these coincides with a hot and very windy day and it becomes more than a grass fire. Let us cross our fingers that never happens. Anyway, that's the news from the patch as autumn begins.

Letham and around

 

Letham north pool

So whilst the sea-watching didn't go especially well I managed to spend a bit of time pottering around my usual sites in mid-Fife. I wasn't able to add anything that other people would consider especially tasty at Letham, it's the right time of year but the water levels remain too high for most waders to pay it much attention. But I did walk down the water treatment compound access lane on the south side on the off-chance that there might be some birds on the sunny sheltered side. This is a dead end leading to the gates and I don't go down here frequently as it's a little awkward to get out again in the car, but I reckon I should as it was a hive of activity with loads of Blue Tit, Great Tit, Willow Warbler, Chiffchaff and Wren, and better still Song Thrush and Treecreeper, both of which were site ticks. I literally could not believe it when I raised my bins and saw the Thrush, it has been a target for ages but I assumed I would hear it from afar and perhaps get a scope view. It positively shone on the branch before flitting deeper and away. The Treecreeper (and it turned out there were two) I heard before I saw it, then the desperation of needing to see it kicked in. I could hear it constantly, and then all of a sudden it was in front of me. Wow! Pure magic - the power of a patch. Further down there was another. This meant that I was now tantalisingly close to the magic 100 mark. 

Before this week I had expected that any new birds would have had to have come from the sky - a passing Osprey or something like that, which would need time and luck - but that lane now seemed to hold the key. All it would take is a Blackcap I mused....

Letham south side, from the lane

The next morning I arrived at Letham just after 7am. This time I pulled straight into the lane. As I got out of the car I various small birds scattered. Was I imagining it but could I hear Blackcap tacking? I could! A family group of three in one of the hedges by the road! 100 species for Letham! Otherwise the lane held broadly the same species as the previous day, albeit no Treecreepers or Song Thrushes. I first went to Letham in 2020 and this was my 51st visit. There is a price though - I worked out that I've driven a minimum of 900 miles as part of those visits which is a little sobering. Then again I've driven 6,000 miles to and from Rainham over the years. The way I see it is that I've driven virtually zero miles whilst birding Wanstead, and if Wanstead Flats were the same distance from my house as Letham is from the ancestral pad I'd have driven 25,000 miles. It makes you think though, how many miles do UK birders collectively drive whilst birding 'locally'?

Elder bush marked on the left, the lane to the gates on the right.

Back on the road between the two pools I pointed my scope back at the water treatment plant and zoomed up. Amazingly one of the first birds I settled on was the/a Song Thrush sat on the edge of the main tank! Right, now here's a challenge! You can guess what I mean by that. It took a while but eventually I picked up a female Blackcap in an elder bush - about 300m distant! It is a moot point as the lane is clearly part of Letham as I see it, but it was still very satisfying to be able to see it from where I normally stand. My standard patch inclusion rules are "on or from", i.e. if I could definitively see a Red Grouse on the East Lomond from where I was stood it would be on my Letham list! Whilst on this detailed scan of the south side I also picked up four Grey Wagtail on the rotating arm, four Magpie on the buildings, three Robin, a Blackbird, multiple Chiffchaff and several bright yellow Willow Warbler. It didn't end there though, the 101st bird arrived very shortly as a Crossbill circled the site and then continued south. I'd heard Crossbill in late July down on the coast at Dalgety Bay, and also that very same morning at Angle Park. They are on the move and on reflection I suppose it wasn't a huge surprise to get one here too, even if wasn't on my immediate radar.

So, Angle Park then. This is rapidly becoming another regular site as it is under two miles from Letham as the Crossbill flies and so is easy to combine into one outing. This is where I found a GWE last year, the vanguard of what amounted to an invasion in Fife over the following weeks. It's next to a landfill and is carpeted with Gulls a lot of the time, but that aside it's pretty decent with a lot more exposed mud than Letham at the moment. This delivered a Ruff which was new for the site and I also added House Martin and Canada Goose. Green and Common Sandpipers were here too. I've given up on The Wilderness, the landowner has made it increasingly difficult and you can barely see the water any more. 

As good as Letham and Angle Park are, they're a few miles from the house and when I'm up here this is where I spend most time. So more than a few hours were spent simply skywatching from the garden. Swallows and House Martins were constant, and the odd group of Swift came through as well. On Saturday afternoon my patience and alertness were rewarded by a distant raptor. I was on the terrace having just finished a family lunch, and as binoculars weren't really appropriate in that setting I had to charge into the house to get them. It turned out be a juvenile Marsh Harrier, fortunately moving slowly enough that a 20 second delay didn't prove fatal, and was a great garden tick. A decent bird in Fife as well, but most of my satisfied glow on this visit came from Letham.

Fife seawatching

I spent a few days in Fife recently, the normal family stuff but at the same time I had hoped to be able to get some time in seawatching. It didn't quite turn out like that and I could only spend one weekend morning out at Fife Ness during which the conditions were some way from being classic. My plan had been to take a weekday off on a better (i.e. worse!) weather day but due to various factors I wasn't able to take the time off from work. Storm Floris thus completely passed me by which is a shame. That said those strong winds on Monday were not ideal for Fife Ness either and whilst there was some movement there wasn't anything spectacular brought in. The day before I arrived there was a twitchable Cory's Shearwater lingering in the Forth.....when booking my trips this year I had picked promising dates, but I went home Cory-less again. One day one of my visits will coincide with the perfect weather pattern and I will experience an unforgettable seawatch, but for now it remains yet another one that got away. One day I'll be free to do whatever I want... 

  

Even though I knew the weather wouldn't deliver anything I went anyway. For a land-locked birder like me the weather is sort of irrelevant - I don't normally get to look at the sea at all and so even on a dull day in Fife I can have fun. The hide out at Fife Ness has had some serious TLC recently and is looking tip top with many more years in it. I spent an hour there on Sunday morning and was able to pick up Manx Shearwater, lots of Kittiwakes, Arctic, Common and Sandwich Terns, Shags, Common Scoter. Gannets probably stole the show, hundreds upon hundreds heading north to fish or returning south to the Bass Rock. Almost all were adults, I just love watching lines of them rise and fall in complete coordination. On the rocks in front of the hide were Oystercatcher, Curlew, a single Whimbrel, Redshank and Turnstones. On Balcomie Beach Sanderling and Ringed Plover skittered around, and Eider and Goosander rested on the rocks. Most of these birds I have never seen in Wanstead, a couple I see once in a blue moon. I take none of them for granted when I am up here.

Coast and Castles - July 2025 - Trip List

So that was the trip. A lot of fun but also very hard work. Six counties in six days, and about 220 miles covered as follows.

Newcastle to Blyth - 21.5 miles

Blyth to Seahouses - 50.7 miles

Seahouses to Eyemouth - 40.7 miles

Eyemouth to Haddington - 35 miles

Haddington to Edinburgh - 30.5 miles

Edinburgh to Fife - 38.6 miles

I saw a lot of birds, a surprising number really, with a total of 103 species seen between Newcastle and Fife. East Lothian was the most productive, perhaps due to that dedicated session at Musselburgh, followed closely by Northumberland. Both counties are now close to 100 species - on my next drive up or down I will try and put that right. Here's the list in spreadsheet form, and if you wanted to see it in eBird it can be found here. Here also is Mrs L's non-organisational contribution to the trip.

Coast and Castles - July 2025 - Fife

Technically I suppose Mrs L and I are now beyond the Coast and Castles route, which starts in Newcastle and ends in Edinburgh. At this point, and in fact since Berwick, we have been travelling along CR76. The Forth Road Bridge is a cheeky but iconic short cut; the route in fact goes all the way across to Stirling and then back down the other side to Rosyth. I had been  greatly looking forward to this moment. Partly for the views, partly to say I'd done it (all my children have done it), and partly because I was sure I was going to be able to see loads of birds from up there. 

As a result it took me ages to cross and Mrs L left me behind. And other than a handful of Common Tern on some rocks near the North Queensferry side I saw no birds at all. We were in Fife! Now my Fife list is 208, and I was 100% sure that it would remain on 208 despite taking a slow route to the original Chateau L. So this was more about seeing if anything could be added to the trip list from a numbers perspective. We passed through Inverkeithing and bought some lunch, and then headed east for the first time down to the shore. I've never seen the bridges from this perspective. Along this track there was another Bullfinch, as as we went around the edge of Dalgety Bay some unseen Crossbills passed overhead - these were new for the trip and they are on the move at this time of year.

Dalgety Bay

We had lunch overlooking Pettycur Bay, high up on the bluff between the train tracks and the road. Not especially glamourous but the view is nice. I scanned the Terns and Waders on the sand before the tide came in but other than a couple of Barwits could not sift out anything particularly special. 

At Kinghorn our route turned inland for a while to cut out a corner. Kinghorn Loch was only a very short distance off the CR76 so we paused there for a cup of tea. The home stretch. I had been hoping for a Gadwall, or perhaps some Shoveler but it was not to be. A suspicious Pink-footed Goose was with some Greylag, but at least it didn't come in to the family chucking bread about. 

Back in the saddle we moved slowly north-east, the hill out of Kinghorn requiring getting off an pushing. There was then a lovely mild gradient downhill section to Kirkcaldly on Standing Stanes Road, and we hadn't gone far before a Wheatear flipped off the road and into the field. Our glide into Kirkcaldy complete, we pedalling slowly along the esplanade. The seafront at Kirkcaldy does not show Fife at it's best. The planners were asleep at the wheel and the 1960s and 70s seem to have been particularly unkind. I had a last scan of the sea and then it was up into Thornton.

So close. Birding was put to one side, I just wanted to get off the bike. The last few miles were thus pretty rapid and we arrived at the ancenstral pad at around half four. A case of pinot noir had arrived earlier that day (sent by me in a moment of desperation en route) and so we cracked a bottle open shortly afterwards. Done!

The visit was brief - we spent the whole week getting there and had to go home more or less immediately!

Coast and Castles - July 2025 - East Lothian and Edinburgh

I am not sure where exactly we crossed into East Lothian, but by the time we reached Torness that's where we were. Near where the cycle path begins there's a lake, Whitesands Quarry, and another prolongued stop added Great Crested Grebe and Pochard for the trip. This was where I first detected some frustration - checklist #49 if you were wondering - so she did pretty well. There was a Yellow Wagtail along here somewhere as well.

So, East Lothian. In contrast to the Borders I've actually been birding here a few timest. My first recorded visit was for a Hoopoe in 2010. I'd been staying in Fife and back in those days I thought nothing of driving a few hours for a bird, I was at my most rabid. It was near a burn at Dunglass. I then neglected the county for a decade before going birding at Musselburgh in 2020 when there was a White-winged Scoter present off the beach. In then in 2022 I went to Aberlady Bay and dipped something but I can't now remember what it was. Presumably a duck of some kind. These visits meant I started this trip on 68 species, but with none of them having been in the summer months I was missing lots of common things.

The Bass Rock looms large

We bought a picnic lunch (as well as food for the evening) from the Co-Op in Dunbar and took it to the seafront where we found a pleasant bench. This close to the Bass Rock Gannet passage was excellent, and my count of 750 is probably a massive underestimate. There was a sole Fulmar and also just one Sandwich Tern, but Kittiwakes were passing in good numbers. Things like Sand Martin, Swallow and Swift were all new.

Pied Wagtail

Seafield Lagoon

At this point we headed inland, cutting out the lump of North Berwick and Gullane. We cycled past Seafield Lagoon which necessitated another stop, and then encountered what I felt was possibly the most miserable part of the route so far, a three mile straight line slog alongside the A199 against a direct 20mph headwind. We turned south at East Linton and from there it was only a few miles to our stop for the night at Morham. This was a one room bothy in the middle of endless cabbage fields that Mrs L had stayed in before, and it was possibly my favourite night of them all despite having to sleep in a sleeping bag on a rock solid bunk. It just had some real charm about it. We enjoyed a basic but very tasty home-cooked meal, a jammy Co-Op syrah without any finesse whatsoever, and listened to an episode of A Prairie Home Companion which somehow seemed appropriate.

Bell's Bunkhouse Bothy. Sleeps 6.

The following morning we woke up to rain. Pah! Thanks Scotland. We packed up and got ready as slowly as we possibly could but ultimately were forced to leave in some light mizzle of the sort that gets you wet but not really wet. I did not break out the waterproof trousers. Despite the weather I continued birding, and by the time we reached Haddington it had brightened up sufficiently to get my bins out. We cycled along a small river into town, the hightlights being a pair of Grey Wagtail by the weir, and a calling Green Woodpecker closer to town.

The Great East Lothian Cabbage Belt

After a nice but bad for me breakfast in a local deli (where we also stocked up on another picnic lunch), we headed up towards the coast a Longniddry. This was along a disused railway line and was quite wonderful, with lots of Warblers, Blackbirds, Chaffinch, Yellowhammer, a Buzzard and best of all a male Bullfinch.

Oh look, there's someone up ahead waiting for me

The sea at Seton Sands was like a mirror. Rafts of Eider floated passively on it, there was barely a ripple. As ever the number of dogs being walked on the beach beggared belief and so waders were thin on the ground. I think I added a single Bar-tailed Godwit, and at Port Seton shore, my keen eyes picked out a Kingfisher which I insisted Mrs L, some way ahead of me again, to come back and look at. We would never get to Musselburgh she said.  

But we did, and at a perfect time for lunch. I wanted to go and explore the lagoons, so she settled down to more sock and I scooted off. I joined some birders on the sea wall looking for (and finding, with Velvets) the long-staying drake Surf Scoter, and then cycled up to the old lagoons. These were teeming with birds until two young ladies decided to try and inflate a dinghy on one. I mean really? Anyway, lots of Little Gull on the left hand pool, with Shelduck, Lapwing, Redshank and a few Dunlin, and then at least seven Common Sandpiper on one of the rear pools. There was supposed to a Wood Sandpiper knocking around as well, and I was a little disappointed when the intrepid rowers failed to put it up. Lots of Pied Wagtail on the short grass.

Surf Scoter in amongst Velvet Scoters

I rejoined Mrs L at the Esk and we carried on into Edinburgh, East Lothian finishing on a pleasing but oh-so-close 97. My Edinburgh list stood at just 26 and is basically just my sister's garden and the airport. A couple of random housing estates added Song Thrush and Long-tailed Tit, and then all of a sudden we were rounding Arthur's seat and after a long graffiti'd tunnel popped out quite near the Royal Mile. From having been in the middle of nowhere for large parts of trip to now be in a huge throng of people was a little discombobulating, but we took it in for a while before carrying on to my sister's house, the run of which we had to ourselves as the whole family was out. We did boring things like all of our washing, and then walked into town to Aizle, a posh restaurant I'd booked a few days earlier when the deep-fried fare had been getting me down. We had a five course tasting menu that was simply exquisite, with wines that matched the food well but were (in my spoiled brat universe) fairly unexciting. I failed to take any photos of the food as seems so de-rigeur these days, but it was as beautiful as it was delicious.

Edinburgh

Well rested and well fed we awoke the next morning for the final leg. Over the Forth Road Bridge and onwards into Fife. I am not sure of the exact route, but it was inland rather than along the coast, passing through Craigleith and Davidson's Mains to Dalmeny and finally to Queensferry. I'd been looking forward to this bit.

Never gets old

Coast and Castles - July 2025 - The Scottish Borders

It was a steep and very enjoyable descent down into Eyemouth. As I had quipped earlier to some friends I find that I cope with half of the hills really quite easily. The other half tend to be more challenging... There had been sections of the ascent to the border marker where I'd simply had to get off and push, itself quite hard going with a heavily loaded bike. Going down hills this extra weight on the bike, and other - ahem - extra weight, meant that I attained considerable speed, passing Mrs L and her lighter, er, panniers quite easily. She's a maths teacher and tried to explain gravitational potential energy to me but basically my bike is just faster.

If my Tyne and Wear list was pathetic you should see my Scottish Borders list. Four species. Four! Crow, Rook, Woodpigeon and LBB from some random list on the A68 near Jedburgh. I suspect I was just trying to colour in the map as I went through. The trip had been tweaked specifically to allow more time here, including a crack at St Abb's Head. So as soon as we reached the border at Mordington I was off and away, recording 22 species along about three miles of the CR76 down into Ayton.

Eyemouth

At Eyemouth we settled into our accomodation above the Ship Inn - recommended and they even have a bike store - and went for a walk along the beach and up onto the headland from where you could see St Abb's Head about four miles distant. Seabird traffic was light, but I still picked up Guillemot, Kittiwake and Gannet passing. By the end of the day the Scottish Borders was a lot healthier on 39. We had dinner outside at the Ship, watched attentively by a Herring Gull (#6). I had a shellfish bonanza, Mrs L a sweet potato curry - at last something approaching proper food.

St Abb's Head from Eyemouth

Herring Gull

I had been vacillitating about whether or not to visit St Abb's Head. It was late in the season, most birds would be gone, it was out of our way and most annoyingly it was a bloody great hill. Having come this far though we decided to do it. We cycled to the far end of Mire Loch and then I ditched the bike and walked the rest of the way up to the lighthouse, abandoning Mrs L to brake repairs, tea and the continued knitting of socks. She hates being on bird cliffs with me and would rather I fell off without her seeing. It was indeed quite quiet up there, with only a handful of Guillemot left on nests. The most abundant bird was Kittiwake, the colony seemed to be in full swing still, and there were plenty of Gannet. It took forever to find a Razorbill on the sea, and with only binoculars my tactic was to find a dot and then take a picture of it with my camera. I've invested in a very small yet very powerful zoom lens, the Sony E 70-350mm f4.5-6.3 G. On the APS-C body that I have this works out at 525mm in real terms, which given it's the size of a can of drink is really quite something. Once said dot is located, which itself is quite hard on a featureless sea, I can then zoom in on the photo and separate one auk from another. Perfect, if rather a faff. I couldn't find a Puffin, and it was lucky I'd seen a Fulmar fly past at Eyemouth on the way out as I couldn't find one of them either. HMS Queen Elizabeth was rather easier. My allotted hour passed all too quickly and I made my way back to the bikes.

Mire Loch held a few Tufted Duck, Mallard, Coot and Mute Swan, some Greylag flew over, and the woods at the start of the approach road had calling Nuthatch and Song Thrush. Meanwhile Meadow Pipit, Swallow and House Martin were everywhere, Stonechat were in the gorse, and a family of Peregrine zoomed around. 49 for the Borders, soon up to 50 with a Greenfinch at Coldingham.

Stonechat

Meadow Pipit

The Bass Rock dominates everything for miles around

I added Buzzard and Dunnock and Headchesters just before lunch, and then we had the mother of all descents into Pease Bay which is just south of Torness. Good thing Mrs L had sorted out my brakes otherwise I might now be writing this from the North Sea. We stopped for coffee, a Whitethroat and a Sedge Warbler here. The route then goes alongside the A1, past the power station, and then cuts across to track a bit closer to the sea whilst going through a quarry and cement plant, from where a proper cycle track starts. But of course this is now East Lothian.

Looking down towards Torness