Bringing it all back home

As Richard neatly put it, this was our Bempton moment. 

I was unpacking from Shetland, and had just rather satisfyingly ticked off a long-standing job on my to-do list. Cleaning the bathroom cupboard if you must know, and throwing out baby shampoo and other bottles of stuff that dated from about 2006. A tweet from James H informed me of Ring Ouzels in Motorcycle Wood. I had been expecting them, the time of year is spot on, and I'd also had an email from Gary H to say he had had a probable yesterday evening. Wishing I'd got up earlier to find these for myself, I trotted out. 

It felt excellent, and just off Shetland I felt on form. Along the SSSI scrub, left at the limes, then right towards the birches. "Tsooo-wee-eeet!". EH? From the birches there was a Yellow-browed Warbler calling. Calling repeatedly. Surely it must be a recording? I called James, no answer. Dashing through the narrow path and around the corner I expected to find a birder with a tape, but no, there was just James with a massive grin on his face, and from the trees above a magic call that I am intimately familiar with and attuned to like no other. The bird was calling it's head off, literally non-stop. We stood there disbelieving. Although I've just seen 67 in a week, I am under no illusions that Shetland is unique. This however was Wanstead Flats, in the heart of London. Zone 2. And yet here was another of these little sprites that has travelled oh so far. Location location location, that's what its all about. I must have imported a little northern magic. Then three Ring Ouzels got up out of the wood and flew in a big circle before dropping in again. Ah, Wanstead. Home.

Tony and Richard turned up having seen the messages I'd sent out, and we set about refinding it. Happily it did the decent thing and started calling again. As it did so some honking in the sky prompted me to look up. A skein of geese looking like they wanted to land. They didn't sound right. Were they Pinkies?  "Get on these Geese!!" I shouted. Quite big, are they just Greylags? "There's barring!" came the cry from Tony. "They're Whitefronts! Count them!"  They circled a few more times before deciding the better of it and heading off east. 15 White-fronted Geese! Utterly sensational, our post-pyhllosc Albatrosses. Grey Geese are not at all common in London, and more often a winter species at sites like Rainham. To have them here is fabulous.

I've had a White-fronted Goose before, in 2007, and a brief Yellow-browed Warbler last year that nobody else saw, but James, Tony and Richard had all just had two patch ticks in under five minutes, and that is the magic of local birding and more proof, if it were needed, that Wanstead Flats is a stunning place to see birds in a London context. Despite not new for me, I was nonetheless on a massive high. This was karma, this was more than payback for leaving Shetland before the big one. Brilliant stuff. There were up to another three Ring Ouzels elsewhere on the patch, and a single Wheatear and Stonechat to complete an epic morning.

Patience

Anyone who calls me a filthy twitcher should think again. The Ross's Gull in Devon has been present since May 21st. Today is July 20th, so that's almost two whole months. Ross's Gull has under a hundred records, did I jump in the car in May to go and twitch it? No I didn't. June? Once again no, I merely chilled. I almost waited until August! That's how relaxed and calm I am about these things. Ticks? No, very little interest in such lowbrow things, I just like a nice drive.

Today I made a leisurely trip to go and see it. Approximately 20 seconds after entering the hide at Bowling Green Marsh, I had seen it. Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, er, yes, that's nice. Is it a tick? I have no idea. Possibly I suppose, I don't concern myself with such trivialities Listing? No, sorry, not sure I know what you mean. Anyway, here it is, a very dainty little bird that showed exceptionally well from the new boardwalk next to the train tracks. Incredibly small next to the Black-headed Gulls. Common as muck I'm led to believe, but nonetheless worth the very slight detour.

The year that never stops giving

I wasn't upset when the Brunnich's Guillemot turned up on Boxing Day. In my mind I was done with 2013, possibly the most incredible year I'll ever have. In Scotland for a family gathering, I doubt anyone could even tell from my demeanour that another highly rare bird had turned up 500 miles away. Despite ever-increasing levels of filth from down south (even Shaun went!), and increasingly poor blog titles, I was happy knowing I'd had a great year, and was thus calm. At peace. And anyway, Brunnich's Guillemots never stay, they melt away, they die, they disappear down Great Black-backed Gulls.

Bradders got it on day one as you would expect. Then the Monkey and Hawky went on day two. Shaun scored on day three! Hell's bells! Surely it wouldn't stay? It did! On day four, as I was travelling back from Scotland, the bird was announced at Edinburgh, Newcastle, York and King's Cross. Plans were hatched that involved pretty much the entirety of Wanstead's patch-workers, none of whom had so far got their act in gear and gone down. It required another early start on no news, but I'm on a roll, and frankly how could I fail? Dipping in 2013 just isn't my destiny it seems. And so it proved, God knows what I have done to deserve it, but sure enough....

800mm + 1.4x converter @ f8. Err, Boom?

It never came as close as the photos on the net would lead you to believe, but the views through the scope were excellent. Bradders pointed to a lump of seaweed floating about a yard off the beach. "It was there". Oh, did I mention that Bradders came for seconds? He just couldn't resist a day out with the boys, and is attempting to fit in as many as possible before the big life-changing day that is just around the corner. And he also wanted to see a White-billed Diver really well, which fitted in with my plans perfectly. 

On arrival plenty of activity in Portland Harbour, but no sign of our wayward Auk. A Black Guillemot was something of a rarity in itself in this location, and a small group of Red-breasted Mergansers kept us occupied until after an hour or so somebody picked up the Brunnich's around the corner from where most people were stood looking/chatting. As we had been told from previous observers, it barely spent any time on the surface, and the distance it could cover underwater was very impressive indeed. It spent most of the time in the darkest corner of the harbour where you could only see it from a raised position, but I got lucky when it came towards the beach where I had camped out hoping for a sea-level shot, and popped up almost into a patch of sunshine. I managed just five shots of it before it dived, of which the above is the most pleasing.

Job done, we considered our next move. The Diver was still at Brixham, and would be a new bird for both Bob and I. Tim, Nick and Bradders were only too happy to facilitate this grip-back, and so we pointed the car west, via a Glossy Ibis at Radipole that seemed not to care too much about people - easily the best views I've ever had of one. Once added to our memory cards we proceeded to Devon.

A surprisingly slow journey for somewhere that looked as if it was just around the corner, but we eventually made it to Brixham to discover many many birders wandering around the harbour in camo gear. Completely bonkers. I do not understand why so many of us who pursue this hobby feel it necessary to attempt to, err, blend in in quite such a stupid way. In this instance the camo looked superb against the concrete wall of the breakwater, yachts, and sandy beach. How I didn't bump into any of them at all is a complete miracle. Please, if you are reading and you own any clothing that has a camo pattern, go and burn it immediately and dress like a normal human being. The only acceptable form of camo is a bright red hat.

The Diver showed very well immediately, although sadly not the monster views that we had been hoping for. Still, stonking, and needless to say the best views I've ever had. The bill is a thing of wonder, and now that I've finally seen one, I now believe what I once assumed were comically exaggerated illustrations in the field guides. I've not had a two tick day since the Baillon's/SB Dowitcher double-header back in September last year, and this was most welcome, especially as it involved yet another 500 mile round trip. I have to stop doing this, it's getting worryingly easy.

I didn't think that I'd be blogging again until New Year's Eve, but yet again I'm typing up a twitch. I've had four ticks in December, pretty much in three weeks, and two in November, for fifteen in all - this is better than 2012, which itself was a pretty special year. And as I already mentioned, I've not seen many of the really big ones - I was away for the Pacific Swift and the Hermit Thrush, and the Cape May Warbler and some of the other far-flung island birds just aren't in my reach or desire at the moment. But if and when I am up for it I take what I can get, and 2013 has given me an awful lot. I do however sincerely hope that it's over now!