Finally

Once upon a time I drove up to Suffolk to twitch a Lesser Kestrel. I had the whole of the school day yet I very nearly dipped it and was on my way back to London to pick up the children, disgusted with how my day had turned out, when it reappeared. I had not gone far so I did a U-turn on the A12 and snaffled it by the skin of my teeth, arriving back at school with seconds to spare. There had also been a Pallid Swift a little further up the road, where exactly escapes me all these years later but had I gone straight there I would have seen it immediately and still been able to stare at (nearly) Kestrel-less skies all day at Westleton.

My twitching career carried on without any hint of Pallid Swift for a few more years before drifting to a near complete standstill. There may have been loads of gettable ones between then and now, I've no idea, but for quite a few days now there has been a juvenile at Winterton in Norfolk, roosting every evening on the church tower. Twitching Hirundines and Swifts immediately makes me nervous, they could head up into the clear sky at any moment, driven by a weather front or passing birds, and that would be that. I'd probably arrive just a few minutes later to hear a variation on the immortal words "It was showing brilliantly five minutes ago...".

I should have gone straight there from last Sunday's Canvasback at Abberton but I don't think I knew about it until after I'd arrived home. I could have snuck it in yesterday morning but I had an afternoon social event and I didn't want to be limited by needing to leave Norfolk by midday. Yesterday evening I definitely wasn't going. Rain was forecast late morning, it was over two hours away, I was tired, the car had no petrol in it.....any old excuse basically. I woke up at 6am and had a change of heart, it had been there late afternoon yesterday and this might be one of my best chances ever. I got in the car. 

I needn't have worried, it showed about five minutes after I got there at around 9am, and then almost continually thereafter as it did wide circuits around the area. Initially quite distant, it eventually did some low passes over the village for astoundingly good views in lovely morning sunshine. Would that I had had my camera. Still, a great experience, and I'm very pleased to have finally seen Pallid Swift in this country. I expect it was one of my 'easiest' ticks, up there with Terek and Broad-billed Sandpipers. I might not do a massive amount of twitching these days but there is still definitely some thrill to be had and I definitely still enjoy it for that. I wonder what will be next?

Twitch on!

A couple of weeks ago I went on another twitch. This is the third this year, and they have all had one thing in common. Well, two things in common. One, they have all been successful and not dips. And two, they have all been ridiculously straightforward and essentially stress-free. This one was the easiest yet, although as the bird in question was a Gull it was of course totally rubbish. Yes indeed, the Grafham Water Kelp/Cape Gull, a first for the UK. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen many firsts - Eastern Crowned Warbler in South Shields sticks in the memory, but that might be the only one. Oh, hang on a minute - Acadian Flycatcher at Dungeness is probably another. Regardless, it does not happen often, and generally I dislike the air of desperation/madness/grown men losing their shit that accompanies such things and so avoid them. This however was just too easy to pass up.

Yuck

I would not have known about it all had Tony not put out a message on our patch chat group. Whilst I do have BirdGuides I don't know why I do as I hardly ever look at it. All the mega noises it has been making recently have been to do with the Shrike and the Albatross and so I came to ignore it. However the Wanstead messages make a different "bong" and I was on to that straight away - it might have been a Redstart!. But it wasn't.

"Cape Gull anyone?"

You what?! I've seen this species in South Africa, and the nominate Kelp Gull in Argentina, but never in Cambridgeshire..... Anyhow, as we all know this was not a wind-up, and a decision was made within about two minutes. Sunday morning, no plans, Grafham Water under an hour a half away, no traffic issues and a hulking great scabby Gull that was unlikely to move. We could be back mid-afternoon and continue our lazy day as if nothing had happened. And that is exactly what panned out. There is no point stringing it out or trying to build suspense. We drove there, saw it immediately, and came home again. I think I was drinking a Daquiri in the garden before 4pm.

Fulfilling? Well, ish. I mean it is clearly a very rare bird (here) and I do not see very rare birds very often. It was just pleasing to have it all go our way with no drama whatsoever, to snaffle it so quickly and be home almost before we were missed. The bird showed extremely well, and because we were quick off the mark there were no issues with wacky races or with parking, nor a particularly enormous crowd (it was nice to see a few familiar faces from Shetland, including a birder from the SW who got there only marginally after we did!). We were in and out within an hour, within the first parking fee band in fact which was great as I loathe paying for parking. The other day I got picked up at Edinburgh airport and the fee for the short stay was £9!! Highway bloody robbery I tell you. Anyway, so simple, and when the Gull decided to fly further up the reservoir to a reeking trout corpse we decided not to follow it and instead go home for celebratory drinks.

First for the UK = Two drinks. Like I need an excuse.

How to not twitch rare birds

I have seen a few birds recently that I did not find. When you travel to see a rare bird you did not find this is called twitching. The use of the word itself comes from the behaviour of otherwise normal people who when having a nice meal with their families and becoming aware of a rare bird start to become nervous and visibly distracted to the point that conversation becomes futile and they start to grimace or twitch. At some point before the end of the meal they jump up scattering cutlery all over the place, grab their optics and anorak and run to the car, and with a screech of tyres and a cloud of smoke disappear into the distance. Work, family and all other responsibilities are cast aside, possibly for several days, until the target bird has either been seen or all possibility of it being seen has passed, at which point they will slink back home, euphoric or manically depressed, and try and resume normal life until the next rare bird turns up.   

I am not a twitcher. Not any more, not really. In the past some shades of the above behaviour may have been observed by loved ones, but largely I have recovered and spend most of my birding life locally. Recent Vultures, rare Terns and mega Shearwaters have all been sniffed at, not for me a wild chase across the country. 

But I did just see this.

What a stunner! An adult summer-plumaged Pacific Golden Plover. This spangly little number has been hanging around on the Northumberland coast for around a week now, and....

...hang on a sec I hear you asking. Northumberland? As in the Northumberland about five hours from London? Yes that one. No, I didn't twitch it. Well, not really. We are worried about the likelihood of a second lockdown later this year, and like the first one that would mean that I would not be able to visit my parents and sister for several months. As such the kids and I are fitting in one more visit to Fife this summer, and there are two ways you can get up here by car - the west coast via Birmingham and Penrith, or the east coast via Newcastle and, er, Boulmer beach.

Northumberland is superb. When you live cheek by jowl in London the sense of space and solitude is palpable. We reached Boulmer (via Druridge Bay CP which is currently hosting a White-winged Black Tern, would have been rude not to...) at about 1pm and walked up the coastal path to Longhoughton Steel. There were birds everywhere - hundreds of European Golden Plover and with them their far rarer cousin. I've only ever seen one, and for the kids it was a lifer which they were obviously delighted with. Remarkably Henry has also seen an American Golden Plover in this country, so for him this completes the set. Obviously as a sixteen year old with an image to preserve he couldn't fully express the emotions he really wanted to, but I could tell he was pleased. I sent the below photo to Mrs L who had remained back in London to guard Chateau L and do some DIY, saying that there was still hope. She said I was kidding myself, but I think they'll remember this particular bird. They keep dredging up surprising nuggets of birdy knowledge that I inserted many years ago when they were more portable and less able to say no; in later life they may yet find a love of birds, and if they do I will be able to proudly present them with some lists I've been quietly keeping...

A momentary lapse

It had been a wonderful morning on Wanstead Flats - two Short-eared Owls, a couple of Brambling and stacks of other great viz-mig. Then an aberration occurred, and shortly after I found myself looking at this.

From certain vantage points, Wanstead Flats can look pretty amazing.

And then this.

Filth

Ok so this isn't Wanstead, or even close to Wanstead. It is in fact Wales, and this is the Rock Thrush that for some reason I was actually a bit miffed I didn't get to see yesterday. This is my first proper twitch since November last year, and confess I really enjoyed it. Apart from the seven hours in the car of course. Unfortunately Wales is a really long way away, but for whatever reason, and being somewhat bloody-minded, I decided that I could bear it for the sake of this bird. Being a total wuss I only left on positive news though, which meant I didn't get there until about 2ish which could have backfired rather badly. However it also meant that I got a decent session on the patch, which netted the two year ticks above and was hugely enjoyable. I did however miss out on two Woodlark shortly after I departed, which caused no end of local chortling. Looking at the above photo, I think I'm fine with it....

Am I restarting twitching? No. I just wanted to do something different, and I wanted a day out. As it happened I got the best of both worlds, and the welsh scenery is nothing short of magnificent. I've seen some birds in god-awful places, and I've seen some birds in some spectacular places. This is right up there with some of the best of them, and apparently only just down the road from where I saw a Marmora's Warbler back in 2010.

Family twitching

This Saturday was the mass exodus at the start of the summer holidays. Famille L joined in, driving up to Fife to dump the kids with my parents. I couldn't help noticing that East Leake, currently hosting three families of nesting Bee-eaters, was only about five miles off the M1. We don't have great history of successful family twitches, the only result anyone ever remembers is a massive detour in East Yorkshire followed by a dip and then everyone in the car being really annoyed with me. Natch.

So it was really quite a surprise when Mrs L consented without any fuss whatsoever to my suggestion of a short break in our journey. There was a minor mishap when the satnav insisted on taking us to Loughborough town centre, but I manage to correct this before getting totally snarled up and we were soon at the special RSPB car park (a field). Seeing yellow "AA" style signs advertising Bee-eaters caused some amusement (Oh Dad, birders are so sad), but the five of us were soon walking down a well-trodden path to where the birds were showing. The kids pretended to be uninterested for a while, but eventually all three of them were arguing over who got to use the scope and binoculars. Winning!    

Henry saw the Isle of Wight birds a few summers ago, and I had seen a single bird on Scilly eons ago, but for the rest of them this was a new and exotic bird that they actually thought was pretty cool. Most rare birds would likely not have had the same effect, so this worked out very nicely. And for my daughters, both of whom had accompanied me to the Blue-cheeked version in Kent all those years ago, this neatly completes the set.We saw four birds for sure, and possibly five.  Now I'm not saying this is the start of a new family past-time, but it was very nice indeed to all be enjoying birds together. 

Modern listing is rubbish

Although adding new birds to lists isn’t much of a pressing concern these days, I had at least given the Elegant Tern buzzing around the south coast a little bit of thought. No much, but I did briefly consider going before deciding I couldn’t be bothered. Big lines of people in a crowd, “meh”. So much for twitching. It’s an incredibly rare bird this far east of its home waters , but thus far I find that it isn’t really gnawing away at me very much. I must be nearly cured. Thankfully now I don’t even need to go at all, and this is all thanks to power of the internet. Yesterday the bird strayed away from Church Norton where it has been spending most of its time and wound up on Brownsea Island near Poole in Dorset. Somewhat staggeringly, of all the places it could have chosen to land it plonked itself down right in front of the National Trust Tern colony webcam. This fact was broadcast on Twitter, which I viewed very much in the same light as “lift offered” when it comes to rare birds. Seeing as it was just a click rather than spending an age in a car with a complete stranger I gave it a whirl.

Nothing. Presumably most birders in the UK were doing exactly the same thing and the website simply didn’t have the bandwidth.

I moved on.

Later that evening I was sat in the garden mothing. Still early and with not a lot of activity I idly fired up the webpage again. Although dark it appeared to have an infrared mode…

Oooof!

The Elegant Tern was roosting in the centre of the screen. I couldn’t see its bill, but the punk hairdo and ring on one leg were huge giveaways amongst the Sarnies. I watched entranced and after a little while it woke up and had a look around. Will you look at the bill on that!

Tick and run! Or rather tick and stay sitting at home.

#438

What do you mean that doesn’t count as a tick? Of course it does! Travel to the site and look at the bird through some glass. Remotely look at the bird also through some glass. I mean the only difference is really the magnification, physically I am doing exactly the same thing, looking at a rare bird through some optical equipment. And with a far better carbon footprint I might add – eco-twitching if you will. I watched the bird for some minutes, getting absolutely excellent if monochromatic views as it craned its head skywards as the Sandwich Terns engaged in some late night squabbling. I honestly could not have asked for a better rare bird experience.

OK, so in all seriousness it does seem a little bit wrong to tick the bird, however technology is advancing steadily and we cannot ignore it. It’s like video-conferencing – back in the day all meetings were face to face and people travelled to meet each other at vast expense. These days however we all save ourselves the time, money and effort and simply sit in offices interacting in almost exactly the same way as we would have done in a single room. So cast your minds back to the White-throated Robin twitch in Hartlepool, the one which famously (or infamously) involved ladders and all sorts of shenanigans. A passing white van was also requisitioned and had its roof caved in as I recall. Scenes. But what if someone sensible had turned up with a long selfie stick and simply poked it over the wall? The crowd could have looked at the phone screen, live, and had perfect views of a bird that was only a few feet away and without recourse to the mayhem that in fact ensued, and which reinforced yet again what a bunch of misfits UK birders are. And you don’t need to see a bird with your own eyes, after all the concept of ‘heard only’ has been around forever and a day. If you have no doubt about what you have heard, many people call that unequivocal, as good as seeing it.

Taking the technology piece a bit further, what if somebody had had a drone and hovered it fifty feet above the garden? The only differentiating factor between the selfie sick, that, and viewing a webcam then becomes the distance involved. You’re either physically quite close to it but separated by a physical barrier or you’re a further away. And if the only barrier to ticking a bird is simply a test of whether you have the time and inclination to drive a vast distance quickly, well…. Oh hang on.

Whilst in Holland

Rather than a smash and grab raid for the Rubythroat, Bradders and I stayed overnight and devoted the second day to birding in Holland. Largely this involved twitching a few long-staying rarities that were nearby, as well as exploring a number of sites in the north of the country. Neither of us had birded in Holland before, indeed this was a country tick for DB to boot, and we were both bowled over by the quality of the habitats that we visited. Waterfowl and Gulls in particular were ridiculously abundant, more so than in any place I have ever visited. Driving along any road you were assured of a constant stream of interest. Luckily Bradders was driving or we would have ended up in about a dozen canals.

We had left London at around 4.30am, and were in Northern France by 8.30am (with the one hour time difference). The tunnel is incredibly easy and efficient. Despite the recent atrocities in Belgium there was no sign of any type of border control or check. I had wondered if travelling so soon afterwards might have been a bad plan, but we cruised through with no issues whatsoever and I am thus here to tell the tale of a wonderful weekend. We did a spot of shopping for provisions near Antwerp, negotiated a massive jam in Amsterdam, and arrived at Hoogwoud just after 2pm. We had the bird to ourselves at first, but before it showed properly we were joined by a minibus full of Dutch twitchers, showing that this bird remains as popular as ever two months on from its arrival. This mass of people probably contributed to the bird remaining extensively hidden for a period of time, but when they departed I gathered up the mealworms they had randomly scattered and put them somewhere more suitable. Soon the bird popped out, scoffing a few before taking one particularly juicy one back into the undergrowth. This next photo is principally for Mick S who loves a good mealworm photo, but also to show that this bird is getting fed and regularly so, such that it may stay for some time yet. 

Top drawer I'm sure you'll agree!

With the light beginning to go, we drove the short distance north to Den Oever for a Lesser Scaup, which DB picked up with ease across the lagoon. The weather was worsening by the minute, the wind really getting up, and we agreed that our timing for the Rubythroat had been spot on. The next day looked very inclement indeed, we weren't sure how much birding we might actually get.

Retracing our steps to Alkmaar we had a superb dinner in the old town. If you find yourself there I can heartily recommend a restaurant called simply "Steak", and don't even think about having anything else. Or at least that was the message from the very convivial Fred who was running the place. As well as great food, our candlelit celebratory dinner also involved beer. Excellent beer. Supremely good beer. Beer so good I gave regular thanks that I wasn't driving... DId you know Alkmaar also has a world-famous Cheese Market? I am betting that you didn't, neither did I until I googled it. It being the evening of Easter Saturday it was closed, but I mention it on the offchance that you can make use of this snippet of culinary information. I am a fan of cheese, and so as the next best thing I popped into a supermarket (the only supermarket in the country that does not take credit cards of any description) and grabbed a couple of slabs as a reminder of my time here, and in the hope of adding to the heady aroma already developing in the braddersmobile following the shopping expedition in Belgium.

Up early the next morning and back to Den Oever where we had apparently missed a drake Bufflehead the previous day. Soon put that right but five minutes later and it would have flown out to sea and we would have missed it - a smart duck, but where has it come from? A box? Or somewhere further away? A birder we met at Hoogwoud was pretty dismissive, but wildfowl is notoriously difficult to assign. Top bird nonetheless, and as it was sitting a hundred metres out to sea ignored all the bread I threw at it.

Next stop some wonderful habitat near Zaandam, the Engewormer and Widjewormer. Ducks everywhere, displaying Godwits, birdy goodness in other words. A showy Scaup was recompense for a dipped Ring-necked Duck, but I'd have rather seen the former given my recent experience in Arizona. A short distance away a Lesser White-fronted Goose with rings indicating it was from the reintroduction program behaved very badly with a Greylag Goose. Baffling and an indication that a bird's behaviour is not necessarily a guide to its provenance.

Disgracing itself?

We needed to back in Calais for about 8pm, and had one final area pencilled in, the Biesbosch, south-east of Rotterdam. This has had a number of decent birds recently that indicated promise for an exploratory session. We failed to see some Penduline Tits in high winds, and then came across a Red-breasted Goose in a huge flock of Barnies looking absolutely pukka. Turns out it has a purple ring on it and it is almost certainly duff. Go figure.
The Biesbosch is wonderful. Superbly named, it has a network of raised roads wiggling through stellar habitat and is stuffed full of birds. We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking it all in, working on the trip list and generally feeling good about birding. Very windy, but we saw a lot of good stuff despite this - Smew, singing Willow Tit, Water Pipit, Marsh Harrier to name a few.

Clearly plastic....

Favourite Goose

Waterpieper

As usual I helped Bradders negotiate a long and tricky drive by falling asleep several times in the passenger seat, and so just a short while later we arrived in Calais where I managed to blurt out enough french to blag us onto an earlier crossing. Merci. Storm Katie was beginning to make itself known and so the drive back was rather grim. Naturally I stayed awake for it. Final scores on the doors something like 83 species, including a variety of rare wildfowl that it are seemingly impossible to call. Shoot them and isotope them I say.

Snuffi nearly got eaten by a dog whilst posing for this

Hudwits and Hirundines

An eventful few weeks but the birding has now turned to mush. Bearing that in mind, and with a two notable successes under the belt, I turned once again to foreign lands. But of the successes first. One, my magnificent Wheatear victory as detailed in my last post, and second, a perfectly-timed twitch to Somerset for the Hudsonian Godwit, a bird I had spurned the previous weekend in favour of staying faithful to the patch and breaking the Warbler day record. I wondered at the time if I hadn't got it wrong, but dismissed it as absurd - one cannot see every bird and I've missed enough that missing another makes no difference at all. But the bird came back and so the opportunity to have a rethink presented itself. Bradders, Nick, Tony and Monkey all had a very long think * and decided that we would go, so Saturday morning and with news of the bird still being there we were on our way. Upon arrival a mere three hours later the bird was still present, having moved approximately one inch since first light. Here's the view we got, which works just as accurately in two dimensions.... Great excitement when it once stretched its wings, and a number of twitchers actually fainted when it walked through the flock for a bit before hiding behind a Blackwit and going back to sleep. Exciting it was most definitely not, however they all count and this is a true rarity and seeing as I had the time, why not - always fun twitching as a group, and particularly so with this particular bunch of comedians.

The blurred bird is the Hudwit, moving so quickly that it only ghosts the sensor..... 

The next day I went to Corfu with my son, a long planned trip to sate some Gerald Durrell inspired wanderlust, and also to get a change of scene and some sun in the middle of yet another long slog at work that I can very accurately predict and thus make survivable. In short it was wonderful, ludicrously cheap with ample sunshine, nice food, father-son bonding, and a few quality birds. Not many, but that wasn't really the aim at all, and they were all a bonus/ A real flying visit, in one afternoon, out the next, but it is amazing what can be accomplished if one has no real agenda. Thus we walked to the Chessboard Fields as explored by Gerry in the 1930s a couple of times, soaked up a wonderful evening watching people fishing, and marvelled at the fantastic display of Hirundines and Swifts that were thick in the warm air. Also pretty good if you're a fan of airplanes flying right over your head - crazy stuff. Retired to a balcony with a stunning view and enjoyed an almost unrivalled dawn the following morning. 

The rest of the day before the flight home again was occupied by another walk out to the fields, followed by some good old-fashioned chilling out around the pool, admiring Red-rumped Swallows as they skimmed the water for a quick drink. Doubt any of the countless idiots round the pool, a mixture of extremely loud French and British slobs, even knew what the birds were or cared, but a heady mix of the latest iconic country music made them easily ignored. And when we got home I logged in and did some work, the perfect tonic to an enjoyable weekend and an excellent way to ease my way back into Monday morning.

* note that this is a complete lie

The best way to see Lady A

Well it ended up being a two tick weekend. After successfully getting from London to Southampton within the four hours that the Greater Yellowlegs was present (skillful stuff this twitching lark), the next day I bagged the last Lady Amherst’s Pheasant in Beds. Heard only, but what a stunner! The delicate coughing noise it made was like the sweetest music you can imagine. Much like Blyth’s Reed Warbler, Lady A’s is a bird that is much better heard than seen – especially the gaudy male. If you see it, it’s basically confirmation that it’s completely plastic, I mean no real birds actually look like that. No, thankfully this one remained hidden in a thicket for the entire four hours of my vigil, making its presence known frequently and often. Each time it squawked I crossed my fingers it wouldn’t be closer, wouldn’t be about to cross the open ride, but fortunately it remained faithful to a part of the wood that nobody could see for the entire time. Some brief trepidation when a birder stood a bit further back and higher up called it, but I managed to convince myself that I was only seeing a Wood Pigeon perched in a tree, so avoided that particular pitfall. Others weren’t so lucky and have deluded themselves out of a tick, whereas mine remains as pure as the driven snow. Yet more people were unlucky enough to have it strut into the open a few hours later, and then again at last knockings, but I’d left by then, thrilled by the whole experience of not seeing the bird through a wire fence but having it call every two minutes from somewhere nearby. So a hugely profitable weekend. Had it been the other way around, and the Greaterlegs been heard only and I’d seen the Pheasant, I’d be looking at a total write off - a bird that sounded like a Greenshank and a bird so fantastically colourful it couldn’t possibly be genuine. As it was, it was a complete tick fest from start to finish. I love it when a plan comes together.

A tale of two halves

Home: Wanstead
Up at 5.45, on the Flats by half six. Four hours later and I was wet, cold, and had seen just a single Swallow. And a topless woman who was bizarrely trying to change her clothes behind a bramble. Sheltered from the road, yes. Sheltered from an active London patch in mid April, no. It wasn't pleasant, it was just weird, but I suppose it was different, and a patch tick to boot. After such a great morning on Friday, when not only did I find a male Ring Ouzel but also saw my first Sand Martin and Yellow Wagtail of the year, a number of us were very excited about Saturday morning, especially with the prospect of early morning rain. In the event the rain didn't materialise until mid-morning, and Wanstead was more or less a bird free zone. I abandoned the patch as the rain got heavier, and when the sun came out gave it another go. This time I saw one fewer Swallow, and two fewer other things. I was on the way home when Bradders rang.

Away: Hampshire
A Greater Yellowlegs had turned up at Titchfield Haven. Interesting.....would it stick, and more crucially, it was it a real one. People may remember that Greater Yellowlegs Greenshank is a species that has caused me a little bit of angst in the past, but I am now older, wiser, and far more circumspect. Any reports of this species need to be thoroughly checked out, researched, critical questions asked..... Wooooo! A tick! So I said to Bradders that we should go, and immediately. He agreed, and guessing that might be my response, in fact just happened to be in the car and on the way to my place already, so it really was quite convenient that I wanted to go. To cut a long story short, the drive was easy (for me as the passenger), the bird showed instantly and amazingly upon arrival, and was flushed by a Sparrowhawk and flew off miles away about half an hour after we got there. In other words an exemplary twitch in all respects, the brick wasn't even needed. Twitching a Greenshank is still one of my most amusing birding failures, but nonetheless it's good to finally get this one. Especially after the long-staying bird at Strathbeg left a couple of days before I was due to go for it.

Cornwall for a mega Starling

I’ve seen two Pechora Pipits. Four Buff-bellied Pipits. Four Red-flanked Bluetails. But somehow I’ve only seen two Rose-coloured Starlings. I think I saw a beige one first, and then was lucky enough to see an adult next, at which point I just stopped going to see them. Some may view this as entirely sensible, but this discrepancy has been irking me, gnawing away at me. With a weekend free, and a nailed-on bird hanging around the supermarkets in Penzance, the twitch was on! For such a good-looking bird I even forwent my usual “never on no news” rule, and left at 8pm on Friday so as be in position at Morrison's the next morning. It’s also been seen at other supermarkets though, and so with both Tesco and Sainsburys just next door, I figured that if the prospect of a massive down-market Superstore dip was on the cards it would be easy to go and try the next set of lamp posts across the road. Twitching is all about having a decent backup plan – if your major target doesn’t perform straight away, make sure you know where else to go and look for it.

Little did I know how badly wrong it could go though. My chauffeur for the weekend was a Mr. D Bradnum, and blow me if he didn’t go and drive right through Penzance in the middle of the night! Yep, that’s right, missed it completely in the dark! Ended up at the arse end of nowhere at a place called Porthgwarra, with nothing but thousands of miles of ocean in front of us and not a supermarket in sight! 

Do you get these at Morrison's? Do you?! No.

It just felt wrong from the start. Instead of being confronted with a series of lamp posts and telegraph poles along a pavement, there was a dried up pool and some sallows. Of neon signs, petrol stations and roundabouts there was no sign. Surely we were looking in the wrong place, but there was no way that a hundred other people could have made the same mistake - the place was carpeted in Starling twitchers! How could so many people screw up such simple directions?! I tried telling people that we were looking for Kwikfit, but nobody would listen. This is where it roosted they said. Rubbish! Where was the A30, I asked? But no, they remained in a long line scoping a bit of scrubby cover about sixty feet long that clearly had no Starlings of any variety in it. Talk about misguided! I think I even overheard somebody talking about a Cuckoo at one point! I mean If they can’t even twitch the right species, what hope is there?! Eventually I managed to drag Bradders away and with a bit of skillful map-reading directed him back over the Lands End peninsula and into Penzance, where would you believe it I spotted the damn bird from the car as we were motoring along the dual carriageway. Exactly as expected, sitting about with a group of normal Starlings on a massive lamp post. To his credit, Bradders apologized for initially taking me to the wrong place, and although we had wasted three hours staring at empty bushes, the continued presence of the glorious juvenile Rose-coloured Starling – which hadn’t fallen off its perch in the night as some had predicted– made all of that irrelevant. The long trip down to the south-west was a success, and another one to chalk up to the “never miss” list. These overnighters are always carry a certain amount of risk, but once again the plan had come off. Phew.

With the main target under the belt, we decided to go and clean up on some of the other goodies down there, such as the Lesser Yellowlegs on the Hayle, and a smart Ring-necked Duck on Drift. We briefly considered going to one of the more obscure valleys for a Yellow-billed Cuckoo that had reportedly been seen the previous day, but everybody knows that they always die during the night so we decided to give it a miss despite the monstrous rarity factor. I mean imagine how upset we would have been if we had travelled down purely to see that? Luckily for us we’re not that stupid, and so had a very pleasant day wandering around various parts of Cornwall definitely not thinking about mega Yank Cuckoos at all and what might have been.

The following day we had a poke around a couple of Valleys but drew a big blank bar a Yellow-browed Warbler. Leaving the coast behind, we drove up to North Cornwall to see an American Golden Plover. This is a species which typically stays a long time, as unlike wussy bastard ungrateful Cuckoos they’re pretty hardy souls. True to form the bird was still around, sitting around on the main runway in plain view and looking pretty perky. As opposed to lying upside down under a bush. I gave Bradders clear instructions to move the car only in reverse, and snuck out of the hidden side to crawl around the front bumper. The bird didn’t bat an eyelid. Or die. So I ended up getting some nice photos, including a bonus Wheatear.

Mission accomplished on yet another of the Starling’s supporting cast, we departed for Somerset and spent the last hours of daylight watching a juv Pallid Harrier, only the third I’ve seen, and thus concluding a rather profitable weekend which included two American Waders and a Nearctic Duck, a Warbler from Siberia, a Bird of Prey from Central Asia, and a mega Starling. Oh, and apparently that Cuckoo or whatever it was wasn’t seen again, and a whole load of people had a massive massive dip. Losers!

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.

Knot too bad as twitches go really

The arrival of Britain's fourth Great Knot had me all in a twist. How typical, the whole weekend more-or-less available and I find out about it on Monday morning on the way to work! Never fear though, there is always a way. With the amount of daylight at the moment, evening twitches are game on, and even though Breydon Water is over two hours away, it was still a walk in the Park. Met Bradders and Paul "it's only a bird" Hawky chez the former, and we were on our way. Regular messages about the bird's continued presence kept me calm in the back seat, and I continued to work on my Blackberry without much of a care in the world. Using local knowledge Bradders got us as close as could be, and after a mere 20 minute walk towards the long line of birders, there it was - boom, as they say. Superbly rare, and in the bag. Fairly decent views given the massive size of Breydon Water, no Great Dot here - very distinctive looking bird. Never close enough to see exact patterning, but you could tell areas of contrast, and all those present agreed that this was easily enough to identify it as "the boy". Bloody good find by somebody. 

So, another big one falls - somehow despite the large amount of travel and working away (last week in Glasgow, imagine if the bird had been a week earlier!) I seem to have been rather fortunate and not really missed much. Crag Martin perhaps, which had I forgone sleep one night would have been on, and I've still got that Ross's Gull to deal with at some point. But so far this year that's seven new ones, and the possibility of rich months to come. We'll see.

Better was to come on Monday night though, as post Knot we learned of an adult Long-tailed Skua lingering on the beach just down the road. Really? Really. And it was sensational in all respects. Distance from the car park, 10 yards. Distance from the bird, 30 yards. Tail streamer? Check. Amazing! Such a brilliant bird, it did a few little fly-arounds for us, gave phenomenal scope and bins views, and then 15 minutes after we got there buggered off out to sea. I doubt very much I'll see one like that again, and just like all birds that are amazing and close, will be remembered for a long time. Didn't get to bed until 1am, but it was well worth it. Almost unbelievably this puts me on 418, not many vs the big boys I'll freely admit, but for little old me, who would have thunk it? The Dusky Thrush, 400 (and now accepted) seems a long time ago, but it was only just over a year. Pretty good going for a non-twitcher.

Of Fjords, Cava, and Eagles

I am pretty jammy sometimes. Away in late May on a rare holiday, I managed to miss a complete sitter of a Short-toed Eagle. Had I been in the country, I would undoubtedly have been in Dorset at some ungodly hour watching it sit, depressed, in a misty tree. Mega. But being in Ohio I missed it. Oh well, you can’t see them all (well, some people can, but not most people). Back home I did not rue my luck, I would much rather pursue my global travel agenda than hang around at home waiting for other people to find birds. So it was what it was, and the following weekend I instead went up to Norfolk and clawed the Speccy back, which could have been another big miss.

In Norfolk I learned that the Eagle had been refound in Hampshire. Grrrr. That said, awesome views of Spectacled Warbler, or a massive dip in Hants? Hawky and Monkey chose a massive dip in Hants……. I went home and had a BBQ and a few glasses of chilled wine, content with my morning. The following weekend I was sat in a Tapas Bar in Spain. Or maybe I was cruising down a Norwegian fjord, I can’t recall. Anyway, I was relaxed and very much enjoying whatever it was that I was doing, at which point the Eagle turned up again. I continued supping, be it Barcelona cava or water from a Lysefjord waterfall, and shrugged my shoulders whilst imagining the major grippage occurring back home.

As it happened, nobody saw it, bar Bradders who needed it for his daughter’s list. She’s on about 200 now I understand, and he was worried that with only one Short-toed Eagle every 15 years, by the time the next one came around she might be a stroppy teenager who hated daddy’s sad and boring hobby. Fair enough really. It was easily available all day, was seen to go to roost, and then hoovered up eagerly the following morning as well. Hmmm, had I screwed up by organizing a weekend away? Of course not!

This brings us to Monday evening. From about 7.45pm, the bird was sat in the same tree, fluttering its eyelids with that come hither look that only Short-toed Eagles can really pull off. Sadly I didn’t get home from work until 8.30pm, which is even more sadly entirely normal. I considered going there and then, but realized I probably wouldn’t make it, and regretfully started processing photographs of Las Ramblas. Not really, I’ve not looked at those yet. I actually spent the evening genning up on exactly where this bird was, as the message read simply “sat in pine”, and Ashdown Forest in East Sussex has a few to choose from. It was still in the same tree at dusk, by which time I more or less had it nailed thanks to the good folk of internet – wahoo!

I set the alarm for 2.45am. What a bitch. I was on site at 4.45am, but no pale raptor greeted me. In an ideal world I would have seen it perched, and then returned to London before the rush hour started and sorted myself out for work as normal. Birds however have this habit of non-cooperation, and so I was prepared for plan B and had my suit in the car. Fast forward to 6.40am, and there was still no sign. Mo (shhhhh), Monkey and Shaun were all here too, and Lee was expounding various theories as to why the bird wasn’t there. Time was getting tight for my 9am meeting, and the rush hour through south London would be in full swing. Goddamit, bloody birds!

And then suddenly there it was, soaring above us. Where it had come from I don’t know, which tree had been favoured a mystery. But there it was, perhaps 50 feet above. Bins views were magnificent, scope views almost intolerable in terms of their awesomeness. Get in!! It perched in a distant pine for a bit allowing some more relaxed study, and then reluctantly I headed for Canary Wharf, as getting home to Wanstead and then back to work was now out of the question. Predictably traffic slowed to a crawl, but I took this opportunity to change into my work clothes in true Mr Bean style. Dumped the car somewhere near Lewisham, and was in work shortly after with feelings of elation, but also wondering quite how I was going to make it through the day. Coffee turned out to be the answer, and so make it I did, arriving home some 20 hours after I had left. Big day. Big bird.

Whilst I could produce a piss-poor pun involving the word Spectacular....

....it would be about as original as all the shitty football headlines that are going to take over our lives for the next month, so suffice it to say that I went, I saw, and I conquered. The views were amazing, one could even say they were spectacle, or err something like that. Anyway, superb views of this plucky scratchy songster that at one stage I thought I would miss until a brief window of opportunity opened up on Sunday morning. Happily the Spectacled Warbler did the decent thing and stayed, in fact it may stay some time as it appears to be trying to build a nest. Idiot. How is it supposed to know though, and the weather has been distinctly southern european of late. Though perhaps the lack of Black-winged Stilts, Short-toed Eagles and Glossy Ibis should be considered a bit of a giveaway.

An early start chez Bradders, but the pressure was off from the word go as he had news from on-site before 5am (!!) that the bird was still present. My kind of twitch, we just had to not crash on the way up, which with DB at the wheel was never really very likely. The journey up was as uneventful as I had hoped, and I didn't even fall asleep once. A medium-length walk out to the dunes and we could see a small crowd, perhaps 25, watching the sueda below. It was singing before we could even see it, but the views were nothing short of immense as it perched up very frequently and absolutely went for it. Win. It was still early enough that full zoom scope-fulls were unimpaired by warm air, and I'd almost say that the views were as good as those I've had abroad, but an experience in Morocco probably just about tops it. However in the context of the eighth UK record ever, and having dipped one with the aforementioned Bradders in about 2008 (he didn't dip it, he just took a bunch of us back there the day after and once it had done a bunk...), it was nothing short of a magnificent bird at a magnificent twitch.

No photos I'm afraid, though there are some pretty decent ones on the net should you be so inclined. With a small bird like this, and it being a large twitch with all that that entails, I didn't think I could get close enough to improve upon my efforts abroad, and they would all have been pointing down from the declared vantage point, so I didn't even bother. Have this one instead - a green background and perhaps a slightly less well-defined orbital ring and you'll be very close to enjoying the same experience I did. And without four hours in a car. It's OK, don't thank me....

Having arrived with perhaps 25 people there, when I got up to leave maybe two hours later I discovered a large crowd behind me - to their credit they were largely all being very quiet and simply enjoying the, err, spectacular, so I hadn't notice them even arrive. A steady stream of new arrivals continued to plod along the sea wall as we returned along it, so still a popular attraction even a week or so after arriving. And deservedly so.

Good to get one of the goodies back after having seeming missed a somewhat stonking couple of weeks whilst away globe-trotting. The Eagle still lingers, as does the Gull, so there is perhaps hope of both of those summering and me finding some time to do something about them. Time, as ever, remains the big limiting factor, and with crazy crazy work and very little free weekend time prior to mid-July, this mega Warbler may be all that I can manage. Not that it matters much when they show as well as this one did though, and I should be grateful that a few hours materialised that allowed me to nip up there and score. Needing to be back early afternoon, we piddled about on the North Norfolk coast in very pleasant but unbirdy conditions for the remainder of the morning, saw a Spoonbill actually moving which is perhaps even rarer than the Speccy, and returned safely to the big smoke suffering from nothing worse than acute hay-fever. A few false starts trying to remember my Bubo password, but it's inked in there now and for all eternity. Twitching - you know it makes sense.

Mirror mirror on the wall...

Mirror mirror on the wall, which is the shittest of them all? Don't get me wrong, tick-hungry fiend that I sometimes am (and am at this very moment), I had a pretty sensational weekend, but the birds themselves were all pretty rank. An American Coot, a Black Duck, and an American Herring Gull might all be pretty damn rare, but they're also pretty damn boring. In pure numbers, the Coot is right up there when it comes to rarity value, with a mere six records in the UK. Occupying second spot is the Gull, with 27 accepted records to date. And in third place, almost a dross bird, is the Duck, with 39 UK instances. So which is the real mega? I honestly could not choose between them. All were equally shit, proving what everyboody has known for a long time - that twitching is a mug's game and birds should not be reduced to numbers as it makes a mockery of what is a great and very rewarding hobby for socially awkward people and retards.

Not falling into either of the above categories, I thought I would put the question out there to my three readers. Which is the crappiest bird of the three? And the question is literally out there, up at the top on the right, nothing like a bit of audience participation. I'd be genuinely interested to find out what other people think. Although I enjoyed my weekend immensely, gaining levels of satisfaction usually reserved only for utter losers, at times I could not help but feel that I was just going through the motions. None of the birds excited me in the slightest, they were numbers only and I don't mind admitting it. The thrills came purely from the logistics, and the successful executing of a plan. This may sound overly formal and business-like, but I defy any birder with a list to deny the truth of this. The excitement is very often in the planning and following through of that plan, rather than in the birds themselves. And never more so than in the case of this particular trio, none of which got the juices flowing very much if I'm honest. The Coot was a given, the Duck more difficult than I anticipated, and the Gull the trickiest, as I had always thought it would be. And this is where I gained the most, as connecting with it was never guaranteed, and it was the subtlest of the three. There wasn't a shadow of doubt with the first two, but the Gull was very hard work. Scanning, getting excited, discarding. Wading through cow shit to get to a vantage point. Finding White-wingers. Going through hundreds of Gulls, and finally getting on it, still doubtful. Much as I hate Gullage, it can can be very satisfying when you actually work one out.

Of course, whilst the weekend was all about the potential (and actual) tickfest, I was also in Scotland, birding my heart out. I got something like 30 year ticks, and had some memorable wildlife encounters, some of which I'll revisit. I love the place. Friday in the concrete jungle of Canary Wharf, Saturday morning lying in heather with snow-capped peaks all around. Snow Geese in massive flocks of White-fronts. Hooded Crow the default. Crested Tits and Red Grouse. A White-tailed Eagle on the Argyll coastal route, flapping lazily over the choppy sea. An Iceland Gull landing in my view finder. Flocks of chuntering Eider in the harbours and squeaking Black Guillemots. Violent weather and amazing landscapes. Inescapably Scotland, and I wish I'd had longer to do it justice and elevate it from pure twitchery. Still, 415 now, and that's what it's all about. Err....