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.