What is that? Oh bugger.....

A busy weekend just gone, with no birding to speak of, a minor amount of drinking, and a lot of children. Of most interest was a rather flappy bird watched rather distantly from the kids cricket match as it crossed low over the Basin or thereabouts. Highly black and white-looking, and my mind cycled lazily through Magpie, and when some orange appeared to show, Jay, before kicking in with a massive "oh fuck" and desperately trying to get my sunglasses off and my bins up. I just about managed to before the bird disappeared behind trees, but the overwhelming impression was of course, and most unfortunately, Hoopoe. Big floppy stripey black-and white wings, orange at the front, but the view was perhaps slightly less than fleeting as I had not been quick enough. I left the children unattended and zipped over to the south of the Basin where you can creep along the edge of the Golf Course (where the bird had been headed), but bar a family party of Magpies there was no sign of anything other than golfers. Hmmm. I noted a pair of Gypos with three quite large goslings, which Wanstead Birders had hitherto been unaware of, but sadly no stonking southern European vagrants. I could not linger and returned to the cricket, which continued for another three hours or so. And whilst I alerted a few locals, the Golf Course is of course private land....

Once the cricket was over we went home, had a lickety-split lunch, and then headed out to a couple of birthday parties, one in Wanstead, one in Romford. Once done celebrating those, we returned home and I made dinner, and finally, at around 9.30pm, I was free to go and look for the bird. Which, naturally, I didn't. Nor did I manage to awaken early this morning and run amok at the Golf Club, so as far this bird goes, the record is highly unsatisfactory. I am still deciding if I have enough to submit a description, but so far I have been unable to come to any firm conclusion - given the brevity of the view is has to be seen as tenuous. If a Hoopoe is seen anywhere else in the near vicinity, maybe I'll come down on the side of "yay!", but I doubt it. Shame, as per the historic record, the only Hoopoe dates from April 1976 - in the Park and..... on the bloody Golf Course. FFS.

So, a bummer, but not the end of the world. As regular readers may have noticed, birding has been slightly less of a focus of late. Partly this is because it is June, but also it's because I've gone off the boil, realising that there are plenty of other great things to do and that time seems more limited than ever. When autumn kicks in I'll likely pick up the mantle again, and with any luck work may have calmed down - it is particularly and unpleasantly manic at the moment, and my current preferred escape activity is literally that - escape. Escape London and the south-east and go somewhere completely different and far less crowded. Ok so HK and Barcelona don't really tick the 'splendid isolation' box, but Norway did, and Iceland and Sweden which are coming up ought to as well. By the time they come around I should be about 8 weeks behind on the blog, rather than a mere month as I am now. Have a Killdeer from May 27th.

Been one of these on Iceland recently....

Morocco - Rain in the Sahara with you

I awoke several times in the night thinking that it might be raining. Surely I was imagining it? Just like the snoring that I had thought I had heard but that had stopped every time I woke up. But when it came to our wake up call there was no doubt. Looking out of the bathroom window, it was chucking it down. Oh dear, this wasn't in the script, was it? I mean, Morocco is a desert country, everywhere we had been was dry, no water anywhere - the lake at Merzouga, the pool at Yasmina, most rivers we had driven past.

Out on Tagdilt it alternated between drizzle and downpour. Bollocks. No photos, and indeed no birding. Bang went my chances for Sandgrouse, so we went back for a muted breakfast at the Riad Soleil Bleu. It continued raining, and our minds were made up: abandon Tagdilt and head back west immediately - this way we would get over the Atlas in good time for birding the Ourika Valley from dawn tomorrow.

Except.............

Unbelievable. Heavy rain overnight had created flash flooding, water running down from the mountains had made the main east-west road unpassable. Even large trucks were waiting, we didn't fancy risking our large deposit...... Nevermind we thought brightly, we'll go birding! So we spent several hours sat in the car whilst the desert became a series of lakes and rivers.....I did the decent thing and fell asleep in the front seat. Four hours later we were able to cross, but the damage was done, and our day of birding was finished. Somehow the flood had subsided almost as quickly as it had risen up, and although we still had to ford the crossing, and about 14 others en route, we were able to progress fairly easily, and made the Atlas pass by nightfall, and another delicious meal at another ridiculously cheap hotel. Tomorrow would be our final day, but would it be a productive one?

Richard is somewhere in this photo

Professional Jealousy

"33 Whimbrel flew east over Wanstead Flats"

Today I was working at Canary Wharf. You can probably see where this post is heading. Yup, patch gold and not seen by me. Grrrrr. Still, I enjoyed my spreadsheets. Unless you're the only person working a patch, the likelihood is you will know all about today's scenario. It's not nice. I mean, it's great, long live the patch and all that, but seriously gripping. I'd kill for even one Whimbrel, but 33?!! Highly unfair. Patch-worker competitiveness is alive and well across the land. I actually think there isn't too much of it here in Wanstead, we're a relatively easy-going bunch. I mean, I like gripping people off as much as the next birder, but if I had to categorically state whether I was hugely competitive as regards to my patch list versus everyone else's, I'd have to say that really I wasn't, and that's probably the case for most of us. A few of the guys have an unhealthy obsession with outdoing Wormwood Scrubs in the migrant stakes, but apart from that, there isn't much angst. But with 33 Whimbrel flying east in a lovely V formation whilst I was sat four miles to the south-west seeing only rows and columns, I may have to reevaluate my feelings on patch competitiveness. Gah!

Naturally I was out on the patch this morning, once again seeing very little. The Willow Warblers were still singing - encouraging, and there are now more Whitethroats than before. Nonetheless I am feeling short-changed, and not just by some curvy-billed waders. Sand Martin, House Martin, Lesser Whitethroat, Yellow Wagtail - all continue to elude me, and it has not escaped my notice that this time last year I was nearly 10 species better off. The obvious difference is work I suppose, but this crappy spring has a lot to answer for. I know, moan moan moan. It has also not escaped my notice that I am a total whinge-bag at the moment. What is perhaps most irritating is that I'm trying really hard, there has been no slacking off. Admittedly I did not spend much time on the patch at the weekend, but I had heaps of other things to do, and in this game, timing is unfortunately everything. In some ways it is good that I don't live by the sea - it is one thing to be gripped-off by some regular migrants that I've not seen yet. Imagine being told about a stonking seabird going past that you hadn't seen? When seabirds fly past, that's it, they're gone and they're not coming back. A bit like fly-over waders on urban patches.

Oh.

I might not have seen any migrants this year, but I don't care as I did see this and it was brilliant

Bugger

A mixed day today. Highlights were discovering two Kingfishers and a Grey Wagtail on the Roding with Steve. Low point was discovering that I hadn't, as I had thought, got away with dropping my camera on Southend Pier yesterday. I had only just started birding, and had found a Coal Tit in Reservoir Wood. As a patch year-tick, it needed recording, so I raised the camera upwards.... God-dammit, why isn't it focussing. And hang on a minute, why is the viewfinder all blurry? Return the camera to horizontal and all fine again. Eh? Give it a shake - ah. I'm not sure it should be rattling like that... It's been coming for a while to be honest, I tend to be fairly unforgiving. The cameras I use are built like tanks, and more often than not they just bounce and continue working just fine. I've got away with it more than a few times, but this time I've been caught out and am likely going to end up several hundred pounds poorer. Mind you, the Purple Sand was definitely worth it. Grrrrrr.

I returned home and got another camera - I am lucky enough/forward-thinking enough to have a spare in case the worst happens. This meant I could take this, so we can easily see that having a DSLR gathering dust in a cupboard has been an entirely worthwhile use of funds.

Can you see the bird? The habitat is a clue...

4,054,458,047

That’s me that is. On this glorious planet on which we blog, tweet and snipe on Birdforum, I am the 4 billionth, 54 millionth, four-hundred and fifty-eight thousandth and forty-seventh person to have been born. Whoa. How s about that for mind-boggling thought eh? Hope you were sitting down. How do I know this? It was on the BBC website, so it must be true. You can play too:

What's Your Number

The reason that this little gem of a stat exists is that the population of planet earth recently passed the seven billion mark. That is a serious number of people, imagine the queue at the post office, it would go on for ever and ever. I mean when I get up in the morning and catch the tube, I think that’s a lot of people, but seven billion! They wouldn’t even fit in an extra-long train!  Seven billion is like, loads. The other interesting stat is that, in the history of the universe and space, there have been 78,404,690,760 sentient human beings. And then add some birders. With seven billion alive (if not all well, necessarily) that means a lot of dead people. 71 billion to be imprecise. Where did they all go? Jeez. I’m alive though, one of the seven billion, and able to blog, tweet, and post inanities on Birdforum. Talking of which, I’m actually having a little love-in with Lee Evans on there at the moment, or rather he is, as for some reason he believes me to be on his side. I’m not on his side, nor am I on the opposing Lee-bashing side, but it didn’t prevent him declaring his adoring and eternal gratitude for something he perceived me to have done. Had there been a “hugs” emoticon thing, I would have used it in reply. Except emoticons are a load of crap, and I refuse to use them; they are a poor substitute for intelligent writing, and only exist so that stupid people can grasp simple sentences and get a vague understanding of their likely meaning. I didn’t reply, I couldn’t think of anything both cutting, witty, and genuinely inoffensive.

This bird is largely responsible for global warning. I hope it goes south via Malta.

Er, where was I? Oh yes, over-population. Not quite as important as which UK twitchers have seen the most birds and which grown men hate which other grown men, but worthy of mention nonetheless.  I read somewhere that by 2050 – this could be wrong, I refuse to actually conduct research - we will need two earths to feed the population, which by that time will be ten billion people. The trouble is we don’t have two earths, we only have one. Better hope somebody thinks of something, and fast. The good news is that by 2050 I’ll be on the way out, so won’t have to worry too much about, except perhaps over where to get buried alongside 71 billion other people, but it will be a genuine problem for my kids and my kid’s kids. I mean, what if they have to knock down Waitrose and grow turmips there instead? Where will they buy their imported green beans in December, or their Malaysian jumbo king tiger prawns? Like I said, genuine problems. Forget about where they might live, that’s blindingly obvious. They’re all going to be living with me and Mrs L until their early forties, possibly beyond. We will make weekly attempts to throw them out of course, but ultimately with starter houses by then costing a million quid, and starter salaries remaining exactly as they are today, and perhaps even less, what choice are they really going to have? I'm already resigned to it, but I suppose it will be nice to be looked after in my old age.

Seriously worrying statistics though, the cost of the weekly shop is only going in one direction. That said, it is a very clear case of SEP (someone else's problem), and I don't expect anyone reading the BBC website to do a damn thing except moan about the increasing cost of bread. In case you were wondering my preferred loaf has risen from £1.65 to £2.09. Yet another interesting stat. I am sure I can find more. Sorry this hasn't been about birds. I was going to go on the patch at the weekend and get the blog back on track, but instead I'm going to be planting spuds in the front garden and stocking up on canned food.

And isn't it Ironic

MEGA: Rufous-tailed Robin, Norfolk. Previous British Records? One. A biggie then. Right, JL in the car tomorrow, tick and run? Sadly not. In a cruel twist of fate, having just worked a five day week for the first time in almost three years, I can't go.

Alanis Morisette sang about it, 

Mr. Stay-at-home Dad wasn't afraid to shirk
He put on his suit, took the tube, went to work
He slaved the whole damn week, then couldn't get out
And as the mega arrived, he thought
Well isn't this shite

Six days on Shetland, no biggies. Four days in Norfolk, no biggies birds. And finally, a breath of easterly wind, and the coast is instantly carpeted in great birds. None that I hadn't seen already, but I would definitely have been up for a Bluetail or an Isabelline Shrike. And I can't go, can you believe it? Ho hum, it's not like I haven't been anywhere recently is it? I had my shot, it's just that the weather has stymied me. Fortune vomits on my eiderdown once more, as someone once said.

Still, I am going to be out on the Wanstead Flats at dawn tomorrow, and I am greatly excited by the prospect. I have not birded Wanstead for approximately three weeks, and I have missed it. Nick is filthily on Scilly, and Tim is in Yorkshire. Mine, all mine. I wonder what I will find? A dog, probably.

What price one of these though?

Sheer Agony

I am never year-listing again, in any way, shape or form. It is just too ridiculous for words (but I'll try and express how I feel nonetheless.) So, Tuesday, five hours at Amwell, hoping for Osprey, nothing. The two previous days had five Ospreys go through, including one I missed by five minutes.

Tuesday night doldrums.

Wednesday is a new day however, and news of a Manx Shearwater had me scurrying to Rainham where I got simply excellent views of this London mega. Better views than I ever get Sea-watching. Awesome.

Wednesday night elation.

Thursday morning, ie a couple of hours ago, and I've decided to go to Rainham again, on the basis that of all the sites in London it has the most potential for more year-ticks. Wrong. A call from Wanstead stalwart Nick just as I'm approaching the Purfleet turn-off. "I've got a Wryneck"

FUCK.

I don't swear often on this blog, there is no need. Today however, there is a need. I mean, bloody hell! I turned straight around and was back on the patch within about twenty minutes, but by then it had flown and several searching birders could not relocate it. Gave it three hours but not a sign, but then again there is just so much cover, and Wrynecks are not birds renowned for perching up and giving great views. My fellow London year-lister Dom tried for it as well, even braving the interior of Long Wood searching for it. Taking one for the team. He was only in there for a few minutes, but needless to say he was propositioned. He didn't fancy 'taking one for the team', so told his would-be new friend to take a hike, and thankfully emerged unscathed. Even if there were a Semi-collared Flycatcher in Long Wood, I doubt I would go in for it.

Dodgy man emerging from Long Wood. Oh, hang on a minute....

So what are my feelings at the moment, other than the above in bold? Well, it would be churlish not to congratulate Nick on a great find for Wanstead. A superb bird, and the hours he has been putting in on the patch entitles him to goodies like this. I don't - can't - do the patch with the same dedication first thing. Occasionally I get something good, but with my early morning birding dwindling to thirty minutes or less (soon it'll be too dark to even go before Mrs L leaves for work), the chances are diminishing fast. This leaves birding mid-morning or afternoon, more often than not with children - unconducive to finding birds as I'm sure most parents will agree, plus it's not much fun for them. One of the reasons I'm not out there right now still looking for the Wryneck is that Pudding had had enough after three hours. So we're back home. I'm grinding my teeth and typing this, she's cooking her dolly. Who says birding is bad for kids?

Had I not been on the A13 nearly at Rainham, and instead at home, I might have got it. It probably flew ten minutes or so after being found, so I might have made it. Such is life. Or rather, such is London listing - I wasn't where I should have been, which was at home cleaning the bits of the house that Manx Shearwater twitching put paid to yesterday.

I also missed a Short-eared Owl on the Flats the other day, also found by Nick. Nick is dedicated and persevering. I am lazy and, well, lazy. I should have been out there, instead I was only just getting dressed having hit snooze several times. My mentality of late has been that seeing as I only have half an hour, why bother? I could have an extra hour in bed instead. That is not the attitude of a patch worker, I must do better.

A Wryneck is a dream of a patch bird for a London site like Wanstead. It turned up about 150m from where I have been predicting Wryneck, and where I have been looking for one in the mornings. So am I just annoyed I didn't find it? Well, a bit, yes. It would be odd if I were not. I also predicted the Dartford Warbler, was again out by roughly the same distance, and didn't find that either! Am I going to sink into a deep depression as a result? Only today, and typing this has made me feel much better. Tomorrow is another day, and I'll be out there. For at least twenty-five minutes!

Also depressing me slightly is news of a Pectoral Sandpiper. But surely this is good news?! Well yes, but the depressing part is that it's at Beddington. Beddington pulls in good bird after good bird, but takes so long to get to that I can never be bothered to schlep round there. Today is no different. Although I need it for London - ever, not just this year - I simply can't be bothered. At least I'm consistent though. They had a Lapland Bunting for several days earlier in the year, also a London tick, and I couldn't be bothered then either. This has gnawed at me ever since, and no doubt the Pec Sand will too.

What can I do such that birding will become stress free? I mean, all this angst is not why I go birding, it's ridiculous. Birding is meant to be fun. I enjoy it, and that's why I do it. But at the moment it seems a chore, and that's why I'm saying that next year I'm not doing any kind of listing. Mrs L apparently wants that in writing....

Kestrel digesting Wryneck

LATE EDIT: This afternoon while I was on the school run, Stuart phoned me from Wanstead Flats. Whilst looking for the Wryneck a Honey Buzzard had flown over his head. I give up. Any thoughts on a new hobby?

Doh, Doh, and Doh

We all go through patches that are far from purple. I don't yet know if this is one, but it is definitely building....

Doh #1
Text from Kev at 06:40 saying something like "Did any of you see the Raven over Rainham just now?" Bugger.

Doh #2
Awake after getting Kev's text, and getting dressed, a phone call from Nick regarding a SEO flushed from long grass on the Flats. I legged it out of the house, but it had departed north. Doh. I have no-one to blame but myself, I should have been out there. Trouble is, with the mornings getting darker and Mrs "security-conscious" L still leaving for work at the same time, the time available for birding in the morning is becoming so short as to be unworthwhile. Why wake up at the crack of dawn for 20 minutes of birding? Well, how about for a Short-eared Owl on the patch? Quite.

Doh #3
I missed an Osprey by five minutes at Amwell yesterday. Surely lightning won't strike twice I thought, and went to Rainham instead. Yup.......

Wheatears are much nicer than Ravens, Short-eared Owls and Ospreys

Meanwhile not at Rainham....

"Hey look at me! Pretty nice eh? Shiny yellow beak, nice orbital ring, stunning black plumage, and a lovely song to boot. What more could you possibly want in a bird? What, a stupid crest, silly curved beak and floppy wings? Don't be silly! Huh? Stupid bendy legs that are way too long for the body? And Pink? Absurd, get a grip! Trust me, Blackbirds are the way forward."

Happy Easter!

I'm not at all religious, so I don't know a whole lot about Easter. Muffin however appears to have already been indoctrinated. His school is not a faith school, but at significant events in the Christian calendar they invite various people in, and they appear to have grasped this opportunity with both hands. And a guitar, naturally.

So today I have learned a lot about Jesus. Very nice and all that, but not really my thing. What is interesting is that the kids don't bat an eyelid whilst they talk about crucifiction and death. They must get a watered down version of the Easter story, light on detail. Mind you, they are all five or six, so reducing them to tears with the barbarity of life in Roman times is probably not the best way to successfully spread the word.


But whilst I'm not a buyer of the message, it is nice to spend some quality time as a larger family, Hoopoes at Rainham not withstanding... Gutted, but there was just no way I could get there today. Mrs L would have crucified me..... So I let it pass, and have attepted not to be grumpy about it. Instead I played a bit of football with the kids, and had an Easter Egg hunt in the garden. Jesus organised one of these for his disciples, in the Garden of Gethsemane I think, and they all enjoyed it so much that the tradition has passed down through the ages, the only change being that we now use chocolate eggs, and sometimes rabbits wrapped in foil as well. There are some parts of Easter that I'm only too happy to help perpetuate.




The football was particularly entertaining. Hilbs has his stag-do coming up in a few weeks, and part of the day is devoted to this strange pastime. Seeing as I gave up all forms sport about twenty years ago, I've been exploiting my children in order to try and get some practice in before the big day, and in doing so have discovered quite how hopeless I am. I cannot for the life of me kick a ball in a straight line. I gave up in the end and just took photos of them all.


Sorry, no birds today. There is a possibility I may be granted the chance to go and see some tomorrow. If I'm good. Flowers would apparently help my cause.

Gah! So close!

I was lounging around on the sofa today when I got a text from Paul, a local birder. It said "Red Kite east over Wanstead now" NOW!!!! Gah!! I sprang into action, grabbed bins, dashed out the front in my slippers. Then another text: "West, towards bush wood". Come on!!! That's near me!!! Back inside, through the house, out into the garden, started scanning towards Bush Wood. Any minute now!! Can't be long!!

It never came. Hrrrmph. It was probably just a shade too far north to be visible from the garden. So close, yet so far. To add insult to injury, as I was scanning north I became aware of movement to my right, and just saw the shape of a duck zipping over the roof. A silent dark duck, and I didn't think it was a Mallard. In terms of garden duck needs, it's basically everything except Mallard and Shoveler, and it whilst it definitely wasn't a Shoveler, I wasn't getting Mallard in my brief view. Maybe it was a Mallard, in fact that would be best really.

But back to the Red Kite. Along with Osprey, Red Kite is my most wanted bird for Wanstead. They're just about annual I reckon. I spent hours looking at the sky at this time last year, and didn't get one. Today, with all three kids at home, we spent the day playing and watching DVDs, and the sky got ignored. Unforgiveable.

Tonight's post wouldn't be complete without a short word on my continuing failure to find a Wheatear on the Flats. So, I didn't find any Wheatears this morning. Again. OK?

Moving away from this painful subject, the results of the latest Poll were as follows.

1) More Gulls please - 58%
2) A new blog, just for Gulls - 12%
3) I hate Gulls, and will soon hate you - 29%

A quick spot of maths shows this to be 70% in favour of Gulls, and 29% not. And 1% vanished into thin air by the looks of things. So, have some Gulls, it has been far too long.

Played for and didn't get....

I must be mad. I deliberately got up at 4:30am this morning and went to Rainham.

The Plan:
5am-6am: Get Little Owl and Tawny Owl
6am-6:30am: Move on to Sea Wall, view the Great White Egret coming in from roost
6:30-7am: Find first Wheatear of the year in the Ant Field.
7am-7:15am: Pick up Little Ringed Plover on Purfleet Scrape.
7:30am-10:30am: Breakfast in the Visitor Centre.
10:30am-11:30am: Refind the Pendulines in the Reed Bed, take marvellous photos of them.
11:30am-1pm: Raptor Watch on the Sea Wall; Red Kite and Osprey.

It was a resounding failure in every respect, apart from the getting up at 4:30am bit which went off without a hitch. Penduline, Schmenduline. Best bird was a Greenshank, which I didn't even see, and there was also a Blackcap in the Cordite. Both year ticks, but hardly consolation for the antisocial start time. The curious thing is that I'd be raving about what an amazing day it had been if I'd got the Little Owl, which is a really rather common bird, except at Rainham, and especially not today. The story - that of finding zero migrants - was one repeated across the land. Patch workers everywhere are on tenterhooks, waiting for that first Sand Martin to flit through their bins, that first white flash of a Wheatear's backside. They (ok, me) will have looked back through their notes, and remarked to themselves (to myself) that their earlist ever summer migrant was a whatever on the such and such of so and so back in the year such and such (Wheatear, 15th March, 2008 & 2009) and be wondering if they can beat that by a day this year (I couldn't - unless you count the Greenshank, which seeing as I saw one on Jan 3rd at Mersea, would be rather odd)

Meanwhile life goes on, normal people do normal things. Mothers celebrate Mother's Day alone, children wonder where their fathers are, things like that.

In addition to failing dismally at every part of the plan, I took some photos. As I was hitting my stride with a very accomodating Reed Bunting on the northern boardwalk, my battery died, neatly summing-up my day. Rather than me continue moaning, here are some of them. I'll try again tomorrow. A jubilant post is surely not too far away....

One of those Days

I've just had one of those days where everything goes wrong - on the bird front at least. First off was that I elected to go round Wanstead Flats this morning instead of Rainham. Wanstead Flats netted me nothing of significance beyond another dead Crow, whilst Rainham hosted a Great White Egret. When H kindly phoned with the news, I hurried home, but the Egret departed high east roughly when I got to my front door, so I had some breaskfast instead.


I did eventually get to Rainham, but bar another (or the same) Glaucous Gull, it was fairly quiet. Or so I thought. I left mid-afternoon, and was nearing Barking when Howard called again. Penduline Tit in the reed mace near the Bus Stop, and a Little Ringed Plover from the MDZ. Piss, as they say. Paul and I had been outside the Centre having a bit of chat whilst some visitors were happily watching the Penduline about 150 metres away. Even I could have got there in under a minute. By the time it was reported, we, and it, were gone. Looking at the stationary traffic on the North Circular, I turned around and headed back to Rainham, only to get stuck in a different jam on the A13 going back the way I had just come. The Penduline Tit never returned, and the Little Ringed Plover couldn't be found, so in that sense the 45 minute traffic delay was irrelevant, but it did little to improve my mood. In fact I'd say the opposite was true....


Anyway, that was my day. Before I went to Rainham, I met up with the ITN people, and did what will no doubt be a highly entertaining and thought-provoking piece to camera about exactly how I came across the birds in a bucket. Prepare to be underwhelmed. On the plus side, I got to talk to Keith of the Epping Forest staff, so now I have some better bird numbers - better as in more accurate, and also lower, at only 79. I say only, but that is still an awful lot. The majority are Crows, and it is only one Greylag, not two. Whilst I was there I spotted another dead bird in the water, a Moorhen this time, and then commented to the others present that one of the Pigeons didn't look at all well. This proved to be correct, and within a few minutes it was flapping its last on the bank, whilst a group of male Pigeons thoughtfully mated with it as it lay there helpless. The film crew were there to capture it's final moments, and showed Keith with green gloves on picking it up. Actually seeing a Pigeon croaking is probably very pleasing to many Londoners, so they were clearly going for the popular vote. Top TV!

#77 The Larch Crow

#78, Moorhen

A Rainham Post

I didn't see it

Wanstead - there is lots to tell!

Since returning from Newcastle I have been grounded. No surprise there. But in all honestly I have enjoyed staying at home and not really going anywhere. It has been half term, Mrs L has been off, and the five of us have had a rather slow and cosy week. We've played cricket, been swimming, been to the park, had big family meals, done a lot of artwork of various types, and generally spent quality time together.

Not frantically twitching the length and breadth of the land has meant I have been conveniently close to the patch all week, and thus have actually been out. First the exciting news - I have had one and very nearly two patch ticks. This is a tale of satisfaction and frustration.

Frustration
Bush Wood, Tuesday. Muffin and I were about half-way around the wood. We had been looking unsuccessfully for Firecrest, but had instead found a few Goldcrests and approximately 8.23145⁷ Great Tits. As we approached the large clearing with the dried-up pond, I heard a funny call, a thin yet relatively far-carrying pure "Pseeeee". "Eh? Wot's that?". A Pipit-shaped bird then flew over the clearing, called twice more, disappeared over the other side, and called again. "Pseeeee". Oh my god, that was a Red-throated Pipit! Having had my snout in a trough of feed at Longstone's the first time and thus missed it, I had made sure to get it in my head with repeated Ipod use late at night, in case another one went over. Towards the end of the week one did indeed go over at the airfield, and the experts I was with shouted immediately, allowing me to fully tune in and get a good ear-full. This bird, along with Yellow-browed and Richard's Pipit, are ones I reckon I can "do" now. And Mallard.

Thus my very first thought beyond "Flip!" (have been swearing too much of late) was Red-throated Pipit. I fumbled with my phone to play it again, and concluded that it was broadly similar. Surely that was it?! Panic set in. Sensibleness, caution and inexperienceic prevailed though, and I phoned some proper birders for advice and their thoughts on confusion species. Tree Pipit was suggested, but I know that one. Siskin was a good thought, but it wasn't that either. Could Wanstead really have produced a rarity? Sadly we will never know. A quick chat with the recorder, a nice chap called Roy, established that a fly-over heard by one inexperienced birder was unlikely to go very far, and that I would need to be 100% definite it was one. In a nice way obviously. I am not good enough to get to 100% definite. I know what I heard, and Red-throated Pipit is the obvious candidate, and it was soon enough after Scilly to still be in my head (and boy is it now!!), but ultimately I'm going to have to let it go. I put it out to RBA as a probable, fielded the inevitable questions from London Birders, and have left it that. Do they ever land?! Met Lee at Rainham a few days later and he pulled me up on it as well, wanting to know circumstances etc. He knows I've not much field experience, I tend not to hide it - "Robin! No, Chaffinch! Oh, no, Bumblebee!" - and he concluded by saying he didn't think there had ever been more than one in London. Cheers Lee, say what you think and all that, don't mind me! So there you go, the best bird I have ever found, and almost certainly the best ever in Wanstead, but as far as the official record goes, it didn't exist. Now of course I have a pile of listing dilemmas - do I put it on my personal list? Yes, I think I should, as in my own mind I am satisfied with what it was. Oh but hang on, then it won't match up with my official list. And what about the list on Bubo? Oh no, because that would then screw up my London list on there. Errr. Bugger.

Satisfaction
Yesterday (see, I have almost caught up) I had a text from Stuart as I drove back from Cambridge having picked up the kids from la grandmere. "Dartford Warbler near the model aircraft strip". Wow! This is one of the birds that I have long had in mind as a potential one for the Flats. Stuart is therefore a genius for finding one, and very close to where I had in mind as well. I was in situ an hour later, and soon had some great views of this charismatic warbler as it perched on top of the broom. Not much doubt about that one, so on it goes. I called all the local birders I could think of, and pretty soon Paul and Marco turned up. Paul, who has been birding here for years, says it is the first sighting he can recall. It was an adult male, and just a glorious bird to have here on the Flats, almost within sight of the house. This is species #98 (official - #99 unofficially...) for my Wanstead list, and a top target bagged. Next on the list is Yellow-legged Gull. Today I got a rare Great Black-backed Gull loafing on the playing fields, only my second in four years, so things are looking up.

In other news this week, there was a fab thrush passage a few days ago. Various comments from London birders about vast flocks of Redwings overnight had me up bright and early on the terrace, steaming mug of tea in hand and SLR on my shoulder. I wasn't disappointed, and within about five minutes both Redwing and Fieldfare irrevocably got on my garden list. They were generally in flocks in excess of 30, never a constant stream, but in a hour I must have had over 250 Redwing and 100 Fieldfare. Given that I usually have to chase these around the Flats, to be able to see more than ever before from (nearly) the comfort of my own home is pretty sweet. There were also quite a few large flocks of Woodpigeons, and good numbers of Greenfinch. Almost without exception, everything was going west.

Viz:

And finally, what about some Parakeet action? This morning I popped out for another look at the Dartford Warbler, but there was no sign by 8.30am. Whilst looking, a flock of 11 Ring-necked Parakeets flew over. Having been blown away by a flock of 5 Ring-necked Parakeets in the Park on Friday, by far the most I had ever seen at that point, I was astonished when a further 16 went over a little while later. Is this the vanguard? Is Wanstead the new Esher?

TTFN

A tale of two Montys

You can probably all guess what I am talking about. If you can't, that is probably a good thing. Well, the first Monty is Monty Panesar, who won The Ashes for us. A true #11, he survived 11 overs to ensure a drawn test match in Cardiff about two months ago. Roll forward to the match at Headingly where we were beyond pathetic, and Australia would have retained The Ashes with an unassailable 2-1 lead, whatever the outcome at The Oval. As it was, we went in 1-1, and a stunning session with the up-until-that-point-feeble-with-the-ball Broad, and it was basically job done. Not that we as a country can ever feel like we are winning of course, we all believed Australia would pull off a miracle. Apart from Geoffrey of course, who said we would win. Sound man Geoffrey, I just wish he would say what he actually thinks more often. Unfortunately my Aussie friend's email server must be down, as I have not had any reply to my rather magnanimous email.

I listened to every ball, a benefit of no longer being sat in an office where serious stuff gets done. Where I worked we once had a guy who wanted to go watch the World Cup. He asked for unpaid leave for the entire tournament and was scoffed at, so he quit, and went to watch the World Cup. Top man, if rather arrogant, but there was a lot of that. Presumably he didn't have three children and a mortgage. Er, I am getting sidetracked, I meant to talk about Monties, which are interesting, not banking, which isn't.

Anyway, the second Monty was a belter of a Montagu's Harrier discovered by Andy, Phil, Dave et al at Rainham today. Only the third record for the site, I almost missed it. All three kiddos had eye appointments this afternoon, and we had just emerged from the NHS place on Wanstead High Street at about 4pm when Vince called. "Have you seen the news from Rainham?" "Er no, what is it?" Despite only having about 10ml of milk in the house, shopping plans were abandoned, and we raced over to discover a small gaggle of people on the sea wall with scopes pointing in. I don't usually take optics to medical appointments - something which I may need to reconsider - so hadn't bothered going home for bins or anything. No bother though, as Andy very kindly handed over his bins and let me have a look through his scope. Tick, as they say (NB for those of you counting, that is #195 for the arbitrary London circle). A full adult male, it was distant but unmistakable as it hunted along the edge of the reeds. Full marks to the gang for slogging it out day after interminable day at Rainham with scant reward, this is a London biggie. The kids played happily with grit and pebbles on the path whilst I had a bit of a natter. All of a sudden it was 5pm, we still had no milk, no food, and no cling-film (Mrs L put it on the list, I was ignorant of the state of our cling-film supply), and we were eight miles from home through rush-hour traffic. "Daddy, we're thirsty!" was heard shorty thereafter. Were there any beakers in the car? Not a good domestic performance.

So what else? Was back on the patch this morning, and decent birds were in short supply. Raptors were the highlight, with a Hobby, 3 Kestrel and a Sparrowhawk, and migratory interest was kept alive with a group of about 25 Swallows heading south, and 4 House Martins. This prompted an excellent discussion on the wheres and why-fors of spring and autumn avian pan-global movements, and for a brief moment I became omniscient super-dad. Then Muffin pointed out a butterfly on the ground that stumped me, and I became normal again. "Er, dunno, let's take a photo and look it up". Which we did - Small Copper. Also of interest were some kind of Hoverfly and a Common Field Grasshopper. Come on Autumn!








Final hot news is that the Waffle Moth has fallen. I went to a website called UK Moths which has photos of almost 2000 UK Moths. Honestly, some people are so dull. I went through them one by one. Click. Nope. Click. Nope. Skip a few.....Click...Number 1036 goes by the rather catchy name of Acleris forsskaleana. "This yellowish species has a distinctive reticulated pattern on the forewing, and a variably sized greyish suffusion across the centre". Quite. I emailed the lady in Belgium. - she was very pleased. "UGH" is flemish for "WOW" I think.

FFS

Just checked the ELBF Forum and discovered that somebody has seen no fewer than seven Little Egrets on Heronry. FFS. Serves me right I suppose, but I have to say I am totally gutted. This was yesterday, whilst I was blowing good money on diesel on a tick-less trip to Norfolk. FFS.

So, resolutions.

I WILL:
- go out on the patch at least twice a week from now on. FFS.
- take the kids to Rainham at least once a week as it is a nice place.

I WON'T
- string Mute Swans into Little Egrets like other people round here seem to do.

I'm so pissed off I am not even going to enliven this post with an unnecessary Puffin photo. I mean, FFS.

Amber = Accelerate. Or Stop. One of the two anyway.

Guilty as Charged. By 0.8 sec.

I have just got back from a 2 1/2 hour Traffic Light Awareness Course. I got done on the South Circular at the end of last year, hurrying to see a Long-eared Owl over at Beddington, so the cause at least was noble, if not solid enough to get me off completely. Frankly I was amazed I had done this (and naturally all 20 people on the course were innocent as well, it was only on amber...) But I did learn some relatively interesting titbits, for instance, did you know that for a junction to have a camera, at least one person has to have been killed and another seriously injured? I didn't. And that there are 287 of these in the London area. And that Green is the most dangerous signal. However, the main lesson learned was that of the 21 people on the course, 13 did not know the Traffic Light sequence, and that driving in London is therefore a very scary proposition indeed. Here, have a go. The first one is already filled in.

Click for my correct sequence. 13 people, working in teams, put down the order on the left hand side (I was counting, in disbelief).

Taking this one step further, for every two cars that you see driving down the road, more than one of the drivers (but fewer than two) does not know the basic rules of the road. Obviously you can't have a fraction of a driver or a car, so basically you should assume that every other driver on the road is a total and utter muppet - this in fact was the view taken by 100% of the people on the course.... Now, given where I have been all evening, I'm on reasonbly shaky ground lecturing about how stupid people are, but come on, this is appalling. But I suppose this is why we all drive past dead flowers tied round lamp-posts on almost every journey we undertake. We should all sell our cars and stay indoors and concentrate on our garden lists, as every time we go out on the road we take our life, and that of others, in our hands (which was the central message of the evening).

At £95, the most expensive pen I have ever purchased.