Golden

I was alerted recently by Rick's mate Dave to a Golden Plover ID article on Birdguides which apparently featured a photo I had sent in. The article can be found here and is a good read, should you be someone who studies wader flocks in autumn, and for your convenience the photo is here. I'm not sure if I have published it before - it is highly possible.

It is rather a nice photo if I don't say so myself. Little did I know that the pose could be used to usefully illustrate such arcane things as tertials and primary projections. Personally I am of the opinion that the most striking feature for it being a Pacific Golden Plover was the fact I was lying on my tummy on a sandy beach in Hawaii whilst taking it, but I suppose I have to concede that is not necessarily nailed on. I wasn't even considering its identity of course, I was just trying to get a bird in nice light with a nice lack of background. Like I always do.

In addition to being a pleasing photo, it just makes me want to go back. I remember that beach very well, it was early morning at a place called Waimea on Kauai. I was staying in a beach hotel consisting of isolated small cottages, and I awoke with a small hangover resulting from lying in a hammock looking at the stars with a six pack of beer the previous evening. The Pacific Ocean put paid to that quite quickly, and refreshed I retrieved the camera and started getting sandy. Honestly the things I have to put myself through to educate people on basic bird ID.....

Understanding Redpolls

In terms of UK birding I don’t do much twitchery these days, I prefer seeing no birds in Wanstead as this is a lot easier. I am generally reliant on the glories of yesteryear for any listing advancement, such as the Rainham Slaty-backed Gull, and then more recently a Chinese Pond Heron in Kent that everybody belittled as a joke bird but went to see anyway, just in case. This just-in-case twitching is actually a thing, and in birding lexicon is known as an insurance tick. You go and see a bird which isn’t officially on the UK list owned by the Bird Police, but that might become official at a later date once the scientists and the great and the good have had their say. It is a gamble that does not always pay off, but in many cases it does. Tiny Canada Goose went on for example, I bird I had squirreled away for ages in the hope that one day it might get split from Normal-sized Canada Goose.

Last week saw some more upcoming changes to the UK list. I skimmed over it briefly and took from it that I was going to get a Goose tick – with Taiga Bean Goose and Tundra Bean Goose being split. A number of insurance ticks I had not bothered with seem to be going on too such as Thayers Gull (you can understand why I didn’t go…). Still, one to ink in so can’t complain really.

Hang on a minute though, what’s this down the bottom? Whimbrel and Hudsonian Whimbrel are being added back together? That's no good! This is the very opposite of a split, a lump. Where previously two species were considered to exist, now only one is. Rather than needing ink I now need tippex….. and my tactic of sitting around in my armchair extending my UK list has backfired on me. My list is going in the wrong direction!

But hang on I can hear you exclaim! Surely you break even? Plus a Goose, minus a Whimbrel, a zero sum gain. Yes, but I have not yet got to Redpolls….. You see Redpolls are also being lumped, and therefore I am definitely going backwards. Personally I believe there are about ten thousand species of Redpoll, but up until now the scientists have recognized just three. These were Small Brownish Redpoll, Medium Paler Redpoll, and Polar Bear. I had been hoping for a further split to also include Bigger-than-Medium-Paler-but-Darker Redpoll, as well splitting Polar Bear into Lesser and Greater, but in fact they have taken the opposite approach. Going forward there will be just two, Small-to-Medium-Doesn’t-Matter-about-the-Colour Redpoll, and Large-to-Enormous White Redpoll.

Medium Dark Redpoll (rostrata)

Anyone who has seen the various flavours of Redpoll in this country will know what I am talking about, but let me clear this up. The commonest Redpoll in the UK is Lesser Redpoll. These are small and buffy/browny (cabaret). Occasionally you find a frosty looking one in with them that is a bit bigger and a lot whiter and you are allowed to call these Common Redpoll although some people call them Mealy Redpoll (flammea). Then you get some pretty large ones thought to hail from Greenland that are almost as brown as Lesser Redpoll but a lot darker (rostrata), and you can call these Common Redpoll too. Then you get big white ones that are not quite white enough and that are thought to come from Iceland (icelandica) – I have no idea what you can call these but let’s stick with Common Redpoll. Then you get really really white ones with fluffy tarsi and these are called Coue’s Arctic Redpoll (exilipes), although some people call them Hoary Redpoll, and finally you get massive white ones that are absolutely enormous and that hunt seals, and these are called Hornemann’s Arctic Redpoll (hornemanni), or also Hoary. Both these latter get called Arctic Redpoll. Confused?

Very Large Really White Redpoll (hornemanni)

Look, it's easy. Essentially you start small and buffy/browny and gradually you get larger and whiter, with the exception of rostrata where you replace whiter with darker. And then there is everything in between, and this is why the whole thing is a mess because nobody can agree where one starts and the next begins. The two Arctic Redpolls have never been split despite their dietary requirements, but up until now a distinction was drawn between Lesser and Common/Mealy. No longer. Where we are landing now is Mostly Brown = Common Redpoll, and Really White = Arctic Redpoll. End of. Oh, apart from race icelandica which goes into the Brown camp despite being White. AaaaaarghhhhhhHH!

Back in my formative birding youth, I heard over the grapevine about a large flock of Mealy Redpolls visiting Thorndon Country Park in Essex. I still “needed” Mealy Redpoll at the time, and with a large flock present how could I go wrong? How naïve. So I pootled over there, found masses of Redpolls that all looked the same, and duly called the pager people with news of a large flock of Common Redpolls near the main car park. And naturally I was then rubbished far and wide. Hard as this was to bear at the time, I like to think of myself as prescient.

Medium White Redpoll (icelandica)

The Redpoll argument has been running for hundreds of years, but science is now providing the answer. Or an answer. Based on DNA analysis of 77 different variations on the Redpoll theme, apparently ALL are near-as-dammit identical. Common and Arctic are 100% the same, and Common and Lesser are as close to 100% as makes no difference. So why do they all look different? This is the mystery of creation I suppose. In a way I consider myself lucky to get to keep two species, as there seems adequate justification to reduce the whole lot to one, which would leave us simply with REDPOLL.

A cautionary tale

I'm late to this due to a bit of time spent being intolerant, but there has been one and only one story in British birding circles this week (well, twitching circles, if that's different) and that has been the fiasco surrounding the mis-identification, or the mis-broadcasting of the almost-identification of a monster rarity in Devon, Orphean Warbler.

Like many, it would seem, I checked for bird news before heading off to bed on Tuesday evening. I am a well-rounded individual. Not that I'm a hugely keen twitcher, especially not now, and on a school night there is little potential anyway, but it's developed into a bit of a habit due in no small part to a tendency for recent megas to break fairly late, cf the recent Dusky Thrush.

Ooooh, will you look at that! An Orphean Warbler in Devon. Mega-alerted no less! A specific routine now kicks in - I jump in the car and drive there immediately! I'm kidding. What I mean is that I log onto BirdForum to see if anyone actually believes it. And lo, there is commentary suggesting it is without a shadow of doubt one, with confirming (and comforting) observer names. There is even a blurry photo of about a tenth of a warbler and a song recording. I have a quick listen, both to the recording on the net and to the recording on my phone, come to no sound conclusion one way or the other as it is late and for me it makes no difference as I can't go anyway, and then I go to bed, dreaming thoughts of mass twitchery and ticks. I wonder briefly who might be waking up a little early and can't think of anyone so filthy........ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The next morning dawns with the mega still present and correct, but before I am even out the door it appears there is a problem. Twitter is going ballistic, and there are MAJOR CONCERNS about the bird. Two minutes later and it is a Lesser Whitethroat. Eh? Oh dear oh dear. I mean, really? One is about twice the size of the other for starters. So last night a definite nailed on mega, today in the half-light a common summer breeder. How did that happen?! And far more importantly - and with a suppressed snigger - how many people are currently in Devon about to start a riot?! And even more importantly than that, do I know any of them?!!

More twitter messages are now coming through, and.......wait a minute, yes! There is some excellent news of exactly the sort I had been hoping for! I do know somebody! Fantastic! I couldn't possibly say who it is, but this is what birding is all about in many ways and easily one of the best things about twitching. And this is a proper banana skin. Yes it's about the thrill of the chase, yes it's about the numbers, yes it's about relief and despair in equal measure, but mostly it's about being able to have a bit of a giggle at your mates, or indeed at yourself. We've all done it of course, a desperate journey, the bird seen well and self congratulation begins. In my case it was even worse - I was actually home again before the Greater Yellowlegs a hundred miles away was re-identified as a Greenshank! I hadn't suffered the ignominy of having already put it on Bubo and having to slink back on and delete it, but I felt enormously stupid. However rather than blushing furiously and cursing, rewriting history and myself out of it, my response then and now, once the initial disbelief had passed, was to have a bit of a giggle. I mean what else can you do? Even today, when I think back to how smug I was feeling having arrived at the school gates, a distant mega snaffled in the meagre time available to me, an involuntary giggle never fails to escape my lips. Yes it's embarrassing, yes it's very silly, but above all it's very funny. Especially if it wasn't you! I appreciate that those who had driven overnight from various distant places (for instance, and entirely hypothetically, Walthamstow) might not see the funny side quite as clearly, but in time I am sure they will come round.

Of course the real fun starts now, the finger-pointing, the rewriting of history (and deletion of blog posts), the accusations and denials. And it's all there for everyone to enjoy, on the same place that confirmed the ID for many people in the first place. Top quality entertainment, and 100% free! Perhaps the best bit of all is that the young guy that found the bird hasn't had to revert to revisionism at all, as almost from the start he maintained it was a Lesser Whitethroat with a funny song, and presumably was quite surprised when birders from all over the country arrived on his patch slavering in anticipation of an Orphean Warbler, only to slope back to their cars feeling confused and ashamed, and with work many miles away, presumably all with nasty coughs coming on.....

Birding Canary Wharf, but Exciting

Today I can put my hand on my heart and say that birding Canary Wharf was exciting. This might sound like the greatest contradiction ever, but it was fabulous. I had a pretty intense morning, one that finished at half two rather than the traditional midday. Feeling pretty fried, I headed outside for some air. And for some birds. Hopefully - this was Canary Wharf after all.

I made it as far as Westferry Circus, and being late, there was hardly anyone around. Some security people magically turned up shortly after I extracted a camera from my bag, but when they realised I was a sad weirdo they went away again. That left me and the shrubbery. And the shrubbery was alive! I found a male Blackbird feeding three almost fully grown chicks, I found about half a dozen Goldfinches, and I found a Wren sneaking around. I've never seen Wren there before, not in a decade of looking. Amazing. Or rather, I am amazingly rubbish. And where had the Blackbirds come from, with three young hopping around, it's not like they're fresh migrants is it? Good grief. I thought I'd better start looking harder. What if there was an undetected Warbler unobtrusively feeding somewhere? This became my mission, and I'll you what, it was pretty darn exciting. Especially when I got a tantalising glimpse of what surely must have been a phyllosc. Just a flit, but immediately I was in full-on birding mode, straining every sense. Except taste perhaps. Or smell.

Anyway, the closest feeling I can assosciate the next twenty minutes with was birding abroad, somewhere like India. You've got something, you have an idea of what it might be, but you don't know, and you NEED to know, for listing's sake. The choice, of course, was pretty much between Willow and Chiff, but I needed to see it well. Either would have been a Canary Wharf tick, and a tricky fifteen minutes followed before I nailed it as a Chiffy. I've been trying to recall when I last looked at a Chiffchaff so intently, and I reckon it was down in Cornwall about three years ago, at Helston Sewage works, when trying to find a Sibe in amongst twenty trillion collybita. Usually I just note the song, perhaps cock my ear towards a hoo-weet or a hooweet, but never actually look at them. I mean, why would I want to do that? Bo-ring!

Today I never even made it as far as the river, I spent my entire break in a tiny tiny area looking at a handful of birds, and loved every minute of it. Flocks of Terns probably went past, a Kittiwake or two, but I wouldn't have cared. Sensational birding about two minutes from my office. I'm still some way behind in the peanut stakes, but with dedication like this, those calories could be mine!

Another inglorious ID

Another early start on the Flats procured precisely nothing, but you can't score every day, and in any case it is lovely out there at 5am. It is cool, empty and stunning, as these Canada Geese and scenic backdrop prove.

After finding no waders on the Jubilee or Alex, I went down to the Old Sewage Works again to see if I could get some more shots of the Sedge Warbler, particularly any juveniles. Yesterday, having seen some scruffy birds associating with the Sedge, I confidently suggested they had bred, but wondered how they could have bred without us noticing, and that as local patch birders go, we were a bit rubbish. It turns out they probably didn't, as a photo of what I thought could be a be a juvenile is in fact a Phyllosc of some description, likely a very very worn Willow according to H. Quite what it was doing clambering about in reeds and rushes with a Sedge Warbler is anyone's guess. So we're not crap after all. Or rather, we are, just in a different way.

The OSW was buzzing yet again, with Finches and Warblers all over the place. But no Sedge Warbler. It has moved on, with its Leaf Warbler friend. I watched a Garden Warbler for a while, and a family of Whitethroats, but never a sniff of an Acro. And no Egrets either. In fact, versus yesterday it was a bit of an anticlimax. Still, there is always tomorrow, and that is what keeps me and all other patch-workers going.

Garden Warbler, I'm certain of it...

It's not just Gulls

I have just been comprehensively bamboozled by a Chaffinch. I thought it was mainly Gulls that had the power to reduce me to tears, but no, one of the commonest garden birds can do it too.

On the patch tonight, I was wandering along when I thought I detected a Lesser Whitethroat. I stopped and listened. Yes, it was a Lesser Whitethroat! Or was it? No. Too long, didn't start or finish right, but had the same staccato. Hmm. Hang on! No, it couldn't be, could it? I got my phone out and played Wood Warbler. Wow! That had to be it! I listened some more, it did it again, but then I thought I detected a Chaffinchy flourish at the end, when a Wood Warbler would have finished. If it was a Chaffinch, I have not heard one do this before - and there was what I would call a standard Chaffinch somewhere off to the left. I couldn't find it in the trees, and after about five minutes it stopped. I decided to use this pause to call for reinforcements, for second and third opinions. Luckily they were both busy, as a few minutes later I managed to find it, and guess what, it was a Chaffinch. Little sod.

Now it could be that all Chaffinches have the capacity to produce this particular song variant, and that I am just useless. I'd prefer however to think that this is a unique Chaffinch. I called Hawky, and described what I had been hearing. "Yeah, I've got one that does that in Barking" Ah, useless it is then.

Given that I can't find any good birds, that even common resident birds confuse me, and that it's nearly June (which is, as everyone knows, rubbish), I'm sure you'll forgive me for posting a photo of a moth. I found it this morning on the sage outside the back door, and two passes through the moth guide has failed to establish its identity. If anyone out there knows of any branch of natural history where I stand a chance of actually identifying stuff, please let me know and I'll switch hobbies immediately.

Is this a Squirrel?

RSPB Abernethy Mallard Watch

Yup, you guessed it, a punter at the "organised" Caper watch last week called a Mallard as a Capercaillie. I watched it fly in, and land in the vegetation with only its head sticking out.

Capercaillie. Brown, so a female.

"I've got one!!!" came an excited shout from my left somewhere. "I bet it's that Mallard" I thought. And it was! I've made more than my fair share of ID cock-ups, but I would have been truly proud to add that one to my list. That basically sums up the whole experience. Two poor RSPB staff, and a hide full of numpties that couldn't have ID'd a Capercaillie if it had walked into the hide and sat down next to them. I very nearly didn't go, but seeing as I had Muffin with me, I thought it might be easier. Mistake (although the toilet was handy). Once people had stopped calling Mallards, very occasionally a real Caper would be seen, and then there would be a desperate mass rush to that person's viewing angle, which was basically identical to all other viewing angles in the hide. Predictably the Caper would vanish before more than about two people could get on it, or alternatively morph into a duck. The poor RSPB guy would try and find a clear view, set up a scope and invite people to look through it, but then no, a lady needed a step in order to be high enough, the step knocked the scope out of position, start again..... and of course the bird would have moved.

In the middle of all this, one of the RSPB staff fell over and bashed her head. It initially looked bad enough that an ambulance needed to be called, and so the other member of staff had to go and sort all that out. This didn't improve matters, as then there was nobody to even vaguely organise what was going on, and it became a free-for-all. Never again.

And then there were the directions. "It's over there, in the trees at the back!" Genius. "Could you perhaps be more specific?" "Um, errr, er, umm, err, at the back! In a tree!". Nobody had a clue. One o'clock, Two o'clock etc, scope widths and even rough distance in metres were all foreign concepts. Muffin and I were tucked in at the front, using one of the kneeling-height viewing ports, when I finally found a male sat in a tree. Once both he and I had had a decent look, I called out some proper directions. Some slightly less-dudey people were able to follow them and get on the bird, and then offered their scopes to others, as did I, and eventually most people present managed to see it before it flew down and disappeared. Job done, we packed up and left, passing the paramedics on our way out.

I don't know what possessed me really, I'd seen and heard Caper before at other places very nearby, and had some decent gen from friends who had been up last year, so I should have just done that. Still, we saw one, and that's what counts. And despite the comedy, very satisfying it was too. My previous Caper experiences were limited to the back-end of a female disappearing rapidly through the pines, and two males heard only. I had ticked all three of course, but somehow this felt like putting things right.

Gah! Another Gull Post

I hurried straight to the playing fields this morning for another helping of Gull. Gah! Specifically I wanted to find out if there were still gazillions (where gazillion = 82) of Herring Gulls, and if I could refind that funny Common Gull. Whilst there were still a lot of birds, many of the extra Black-headeds had cleared out, and only five Herring Gulls remained. And I couldn't find that funny Common Gull either, so my trip was a great success.

It was however a lovely day, truly lovely. A deep blue sky, a few wispy clouds, and best of all, a warm sun. March 1st, and somebody has turned Spring on, fantastic! Pudding and I wandered across the Flats for about an hour. Neither of us got cold. Nor did we get wet. Instead we got warm sun on our faces, a gentle breeze, and happiness in spades. Despite all the gulls.




We didn't see too many birds, but there was a bit of quality in what I thought was a Peregrine, barely annual for me here, though undoubtedly they cruise the Wanstead skies more frequently than that when I'm not looking. I picked it up circling way up above Alexandra Lake, and shortly after that it bombed east over the cemetery and was lost to view. I took a snap shot of it whilst a speck in the sky, and carried on my wanderings, fairly happy it was a Peregrine but wondering if my photo showed anything. Back home I loaded up the photo to have a closer look at it, and have since spent the afternoon agonizing over whether it might in fact have been a Kestrel pretending to be a Peregrine. Oh to be good at birding and just know these things. One day. Perhaps.

Needless to say I phoned a friend. Several friends. One said Peregrine - definitely, another said "Whoa!, call Dave", and Dave said Kestrel. Here it is....and I thought it was just Gulls and Geese that defied me. I've created another Poll so you can have a go as well. There is no right or wrong answer, it's all about taking part.

There was also a male Sparrowhawk being mobbed by a couple of Crows over Capel Road, a few Skylarks song-flighting, one so high as to be almost in outer space, but it was the gulls that kept drifting into my field of view and diverting my attention. I went through them all whilst Pudding walked up and down through a puddle. Not a sausage, nothing good whatsoever, but it was at least good practice, and they were obligingly close and not at all flighty.

Common Gull

Herring Gull

Black-headed Gullet

Larid thievery

I must also convey my thanks for the quite excellent poll results. I've been meaning to write about this for ages, but keep seeing birds instead and writing about them. This almost never happens, and you should have had a filler post of dubious merit eons ago, so apologies. Anyway, democracy prevailed, and a gratifying 100% of respondents confirmed that, like me, their House/Garden list is the one dearest to their hearts. I am very grateful to all those of you who replied. My garden is currently a muddy mess, and I've not been out in it for a good fortnight. If this decent weather continues, I'm looking forward to getting out there and doing some vague tidying. When I'm not transfixed by the sky that is.

Another Gull Conundrum

I went to Rainham today and enjoyed a river-watch. Thousands of Gulls went west past the visitor centre balcony, presumably displaced by the severe storm lashing Britain at the moment. Just out of interest we counted how many Black-headed Gulls went past in five minutes. 200 was the answer, and it was a steady stream, so between 9am and 12:30pm, which is when we counted, we reckon we saw between seven and eight thousand BHGs go past. Whilst on one level this is extremely interesting, on many (all) other levels it is very dull, and we were hoping that something more exciting might accompany them up the river. Like a Bruinnich's Guillemot. We had to make do with a Little Gull at about half-ten. This kept us hanging on for another two hours, but nothing happened. The Black-headeds continued to stream past, with high numbers of most of the other Gulls as well, and at half-twelve, feet frozen, Hawky and I jacked it in and went home.

Predictably I was late, and so "offered" to drive Mrs L to her afternoon engagement. Tangled up in Ilford traffic, I took a back route towards Forest Gate and found myself alongside Wanstead Flats. Drat. And there were a lot of Gulls. Double Drat. The car mysteriously stalled, and at this moment I remembered that my scope was still in the boot from the morning at Rainham. Before I registered what was happening, I had the scope up, and was grilling the Gulls. Wow, my previous estimate of simply "a lot" turned out to be rather understating the numbers. I called Tim, who came out and was also suitably gobsmacked. We know we get a lot of Gulls, and the peak counts this winter have been somewhere in the region of 1000 Common Gulls, with perhaps 600 Black-headeds. Gosh this is developing into an interesting post isn't it? Well, Tim did a quick count and ended up at 2,500, predominantly Black-headed Gulls, all feeding on the new mega-puddle where the playing fields used to be. Could some of these be the same I had seen go past Rainham, now dispersed? We will never know, but they had to go somewhere. I'm a slower counter, but managed a high count of 82 Herring Gulls. This absolutely whoops the previous high-count, which according to my notes at least, was 17 last November. One even had a colour ring, which, when EURING's website sorts its bandwidth out, will be submitted to discover a no doubt scintillating life history.

Whilst sifting through these, I found this rather curious specimen. Not a putative Caspian I am pleased (and relieved) to say. I reckon it's just a Common Gull, but as you know I can't be trusted with gulls. Just look at its head! I've circulated it amongst a few fellow birders, and received some sensible and not-so-sensible theories, but do any of you have any ideas?

Larus canus ssp "mankius" ??

Dipping, smugly.

I had to go up to Cambridge today to deliver a grandchild to a grandparent, and whilst there I noticed that there was a Waxwing nearby. It was a nice blue-sky day, so I went to see if could get a few shots of it. I couldn't, chiefly because a resident Mistle Thrush was having none of it and kept chasing it away. Luckily, here is one I prepared earlier. Much earlier, and in a different county in fact.

Instead, I decided it would be educational to go and see if I could find the Rough-legged Buzzard less than ten minutes away. Become a better birder - not year-listing you understand. As I arrived at the lay-by, the very same lay-by I had seen a Rough-leg from last year, there was a car already there, and a birder looking through a telescope.

"Have you got it?" Note how "it" is all that is necessary, mentioning the bird by name is entirely superfluous.
"Yes, it's in here!"
"Do you mind if I take a quick look before I set up?"
"Go ahead"
"Thanks"

In my brief glance it looked suspiciously like the Common Buzzard I've been seeing a lot at Rainham. Still, set up the scope anyway, take a closer look.... tail first. I was very nice about it, it's not like I'm on the BBRC is it? But it was basically, to my relatively untrained eye at least, a Common Buzzard. The big problem was the the undertail didn't have a broad black band, and wasn't white. He wasn't totally sure, he said, and he valued a second opinion. Fair enough. It then flew revealing a dark uppertail.

I had to go anyway, so headed back towards Cambridge, but only a short distance down the road another car was parked up, with another scope pointing off into the distance. You can probably guess where this is headed, but this is my blog, and as you will all be aware, me getting it right is fairly mega, so I'll continue to drag it out. Bear with me.

"Have you got it?"
"Yes, it's in here!"
"May I?"
"Please."
"Thanks. Er, I'm not sure that's it actually."

This one was distant, and facing away from us in a tree, but whilst it had a paler upper-tail than the previous bird, and a dark-ish terminal band, there wasn't any trace of pure white at all -overall the appearance was beigey-brown. He tried to talk about how pale the undertail was, and about scapulars. If I'd have know what scapulars were, I would probably have been in a better position, so instead I pressed on with the tail theory, and argued that even at this distance, you should be able to easily pick out the distinctive black and white pattern, especially as it was on an exposed branch in the wind and using its tail to maintain balance. He didn't believe me, fair enough I suppose, I wouldn't believe me. Instead he called a bloke who had actually seen it - the county recorder no less - which seemed quite sensible, to discuss the specifics of this bird's tail. I wasn't party to the conversation, but it would seem he rained on the parade as well, as once the guy had hung up he confirmed that the bird we were looking for had a white tail with a widish terminal band and then just one thinner tail bar. We all then agreed that this bird didn't have that. I drove back to Cambridge feeling smug. A dip, but a good one. I hope they didn't all think I was a tosser.

Actually I don't think they would have done. I was nice about it, and not arrogant at all - difficult to be when you know as little as I do about RL Buzzard features. I've seen three, ever. I would have liked it to have been four, but I have standards, and seeing as I'm not year-listing, I am being much more critical. Would it have got on last year? No, of course not!! As if.....who do you think I am?! The year before? Almost certainly.....

Rainham Today, and more Gull Headaches

A text from a fellow London birder whilst I was in Tescos helping them on their way to another few billion got me fairly excited. "Turnstone on Crayford foreshore" was the gist of it. Not easily visible from the cereal aisle in Leytonstone, so we finished up and hurried home to unpack. At this point people who know a bit about London geography may wonder why I was getting excited. Surely Crayford is in Kent, on the south side of the river? And the title of this post is "Rainham Today blah blah blah", not "What I saw in Kent Today" Well yes, it is, and also, yes it is, but you see, I don't worry about small details like that. Crayford is opposite Rainham, and that is good enough for me. If I can see it from Rainham, on it goes for the Rainham list. This is obviously slightly tricky if it ever came to a rarity, as I'd have it on my patch list, but the record would be down in the books as being at another site, and it wouldn't be down as having been at Rainham at all, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Literally - if was a really good one, I would have to go across the QE2 Bridge to get a good look, which would be a problem as although I know where Crayford is, I have no idea how to actually get there. Opinions vary on this one; there was some talk about creating notional airspace boundaries for local patches, in the case of Rainham, one that goes along the centre of the river, but it becomes impossible to judge accurately. I think the general concensus was that though it wasn't perfect, if you or the bird are on the patch, that'll do. Well, I was on the patch, the Turnstone wasn't, but I saw it, so it doesn't matter. It's not like it's a site tick anyway, as I have had them on the Rainham side of the river before now. I'm slightly stricter for more well defined boundaries, like counties. I was once twitching a White-winged Black Tern on the Kent side of the river. At the time it was a lifer, so I didn't care where it was. Once the initial euphoria had worn off though, I realised that it wouldn't have to go too far across the river to be in Essex airspace and get itself on another meaningless list, so I started willing it to do just that. Happily it obliged by flying over to the other side and actually plonking down on the mud; I didn't even have to take a punt on where halfway across the river was.

Anyway, flush with success at nailing the Turnstone, I continued on to the actual reserve in high spirits. A Jay was a 2010 patch tick close to the visitor centre, but there wasn't much else of note about until I got round to the Target Pools. Uh oh, there are Gulls on there. Maybe I can just close my eyes, walk past them? We need to get home for lunch, yes that's right, the girls need lunch, no time to stop and look. They will all be boring anyway, as all Gulls are. We'll just carry straight on past....

On my second scan through them, my worst fears were confirmed - a tall bird, white-headed with a long, slim beak. Given my track record, you would be forgiven for thinking Little Egret, but this was actually a Gull. Hurrah, I am 50% of the way there with the ID already! Now for the trickier part. Hmmm, small, dark eye - yes. Pale bill, dark tip. Hmmm. Looks slim, no obvious gonywotsit thingy. Hmmm. Long thin legs, a lot above the knee, hmmm, could it be? No, don't be silly, you're rubbish at this, it will be a really common species that all people other than yourself will find really really easy to nail. Quite a bit of grey mantle beginning to come through, does that make it an advanced second winter or a third winter? I'm not really sure. No obvious primary spots. Maybe. Hmmm. The head shape actually looks quite good as well, like a pear. And very white, with minimal streaking on the nape. Hmmm. Quite a striking tertial crescent, is that even relevant, no idea. What I need right now is a helicopter to fly over, then they will all disappear and WE WILL NEVER KNOW. Oh, they're all still there. Shit. I could probably get a photo of it. Several photos of it. OK, what the hell, here we go. I am going to stick my neck out and say that this IS a third (or second) winter Caspian Gull, and I have photos (after a fashion...) to prove it. Sacrificial Altar, here I come again....

Upon the Sacrificial Altar of Gull

First decent mis-ID of 2010, and nicely public as well. Gulls are bad news, and of all the bird groups I find them the most difficult. Never one to shy away from something difficult and boring (viz, dusting), I am actively seeking out large groups of loafing gulls and painstakingly picking through them in the hope of learning something. Fat chance.

Yesterday I was scanning the Target Pools at Rainham, filled with self-loathing of course, and I picked out a juvenile gull I thought was interesting. This is where it gets dangerous. It wasn't a Herring, and it wasn't a GBB, so what was it? Naturally I settled on the least likely species, Caspian, and started talking myself into it. Look at those long legs! And the eye is dark too. Oooh, and look, the head is nice and white and there is a lot of streaking on the neck. The bill seems slender as well. Could it be? I wasn't sure. And I think that is the key with these things, it should just jump out at you as being "right", rather than needing to be talked-up a lot. You will have guessed by now it wasn't a Caspian, and in fact I didn't even get the age right, but the real one I found last year, on reflection, had me much more excited and I knew it was right. But I'm not showing the photos to anyone!

Yep, I took a few phone-scoped shots of immense quality, and because I wasn't sure, mailed them to a few people to ask for thoughts. Then a few more people got interested and so I thought, what the hell, post them up on the London site, who cares. And so there I was, late yesterday evening, pegged out upon the Sacrificial Altar of Gull. At least I never claimed it definitely was a Caspian I suppose, but I should imagine quite a few people are sniggering simply because I thought it might be....

Here it is. Share my shame.

People were quite nice about it on the web (and you had better be in the comments box, too!) Opinion is actually divided as to whether it is a Yellow-legged Gull or, worse still for my reputation, a Lesser Black-backed Gull, but whichever it was, Caspian it wasn't. Of course the photos don't do it justice, it was much more Caspian-like in the field, blah blah blah. Who am I kidding? I don't actually know whether to score this one up as negative "cock-up" points for my goal of "become a better birder", or to call it a result. After all, becoming a better birder isn't necessarily about getting IDs right, it can also be about looking at birds more carefully, asking the right questions, recognising your limitations and seeking second opinions. And fifty other opinions. Mrs L helpfully commented that I got the ID half-right. The "Gull" bit..... Oh well, it has at least provided something to write about, as I struggle sometimes....

I studiously avoided all the gulls on Wanstead Flats this morning. But I will go back to them, and soon. There is a perverse pleasure to be had in standing around getting cold, the smell of an active rubbish tip wafting up your nostrils, and looking through vast numbers of very very similar birds that you can't ID properly.

Instead I picked up a year-tick in Chiffchaff on the island on Alexandra Lake, presumably the same one I saw before Christmas and had been hoping was still there. Don't worry, I will be trying to turn it into a Siberian one. Then in Wanstead Park I got the Coal Tit and male Firecrest in Reservoir Wood, which take me up to 60 for the year, which I believe is a goal met.

Muffin vs Mrs L

An experiment this evening, in the shape of an ID challenge between parent and offspring, thoughtfully set up by the other parent and spouse. Who could identify the most birds from photographs? Given that Mrs L's reading list comprises various knitting tomes, and Thackeray's Vanity Fair (started in 2001, nearly there now!), whereas Muffin regularly peruses the Collins, the outcome was perhaps never in doubt, but I had hoped that being married to me for eight years might have counted for something.

Obviously this was not conducted under field conditions, where things might have been different, but I tried to be as neutral as possible and used a french language bird guide (160 common species) else they would both without question have cheated. Mrs L had the benefit of being vaguely able to read french, which, amongst others, gifted her Black Redstart (Rougequeue noir if you're interested), but I'll let that pass - she needs all the help she can get. On the other hand, Muffin had a chance at a few European birds that Mrs L wouldn't (and didn't) know from a bar of soap. I reckon the playing field is roughly level.

You've probably already guessed the result, but can you guess the margin?

Muffin: 115 (71%)

Mrs L: 88 (55%)

Yes, an absolute caning from a five year old. She almost didn't go through with it, knowing not only that she would probably lose, but also that it was likely to be good blogging material.... Well done Mrs L for being such a good sport and taking some time out from knitting. And not cheating too much.

Anyway, so what does this prove? That I am the greatest father ever, but a lousy husband? Possibly, to at least one of those. That small children are highly maleable? Yup. That perhaps some element of my nerdiness has travelled down the gene line? A preposterous suggestion. He got Peregrine in about a two-tenths of a nanosecond. Mrs L read the latin....

Some highlights (and lowlights):

Muffin got Nutcracker.
He also separated Goshawk and Sparrowhawk on eye-colour. Jesus.
Mrs L recognised a Tree Pipit.
She failed to recognise a Hawfinch but did remark that it had a really really big beak.
Neither of them know what a Chiffchaff looks like.

Aspersions and the casting thereof

Yesterday I found a Twite at Rainham. I had been on the Serin Mound, looking for Serin, when it flew over with Linnets. Not that Twite is a difficult bird to identify when it calls about 30ft above your head, but it is a description species for London; they are hard to come by here, and remember, I generally find nothing, so this was a red-letter day.

This morning the Twite was seen again, on the foreshore near the Tip. Thank You. And the Serin was seen again as well, so I went back to my vigil on the mound. I had been standing there for over an hour, perhaps two, not seeing a lot, when I thought I heard it, the classic bouncy trill, coming from the ridge. I strained to hear above the Goldfinches that had also started up, cupped my hands around my ears for assistance, and told those around me I could hear it. Could they? Yes, there it was again, and yes, at least one other bloke got it as well and agreed. That was it! If this is making me sound good, trust me, I have a very long way to go, but there are some things that I can do, and one of them is called research. If I'm on a Serin mission, one of the things I do is to read up on Serin before I go, and listen to the calls. Stands to reason really. I don't see Serin often enough to just inherently know it, so I have a resfresher. Genius. The Goldfinches showed themselves, the Serin did not. Bummer, but for dirty year-listing purposes, ker-ching. #314. Can't be too many more now.

A short while later, a well-known birder arrived. I'm not naming names. I told her or him (ok, well, him) that I had heard it. "What did it sound like?" Do I sense doubt? A hint of an aspersion? I described it, and played it on my phone for good measure. "Oh". About an hour after this, still with no sighting, the conversation had turned to bird records for Rainham. Aspersions were being well and truly cast now, though not in my direction. Yet. This well-known birder then accused somebody else of consistently not actually seeing things he was claiming, but in the same breath stated he was a truly excellent birder. Huh? How does that make sense? And this despite the fact that every single recent bird had been seen subsequently by several other people. Properly warmed-up now, they started coming thick and fast. A Greenfinch landed on top of the same bush that the Serin has been known to sit in, and called. "Did you hear that, that Greenfinch just gave a funny call, very like a Serin". KA-POW! Yep, that one was for me. Next up, Twite. "Twite is a London Mega, there haven't been any real London Twite for years. They used to winter regularly, not been any for ages now..." THWAPP!! Take that! Now, this birder has been birding for many years, and I'll be the first to admit that he knows a shed-load more about birds and birding than I do, and than I ever will, but is that really necessary? Rather than shit-stir and unsubtley attempt to discredit a young birder, errr, an up-and-coming birder someone relatively new to birding, wouldn't it be better to instead provide encouragement and advice? Nurture, as opposed to slap-down? That is the way the other person that was being talked about operates, and it works a whole lot better. Just my opinion.

I left after that. I should have stayed and vigourously told the caster to Piss Off, and that it was a Twite whether he liked the idea of it or not. But I'm not getting into a slanging match over a Twite, I'll save it for when it might really count. And anyway, Pudding needed lunch. She had been an absolute superstar all morning and a sausage-roll and a playground visit beckoned. But it makes me determined to formally submit the record. And if it gets rejected, well, it was still a Twite. Appearances can be deceptive, but I am not a total fool.

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

Scilly 2009. Catharus, whatever.

Day four and a new island. St Martin's, home of about 20 million fields each about the size of a tennis court, separated by thick pittosporum hedges - a hopelessly inefficient system, which is why most seem to be filled with weeds, but by golly it's good for thrushes. Our primary mission was of course to find a stack load of rare birds, but we inevitably wound up at Little Arthur's Farm where a Little Bunting and a Radde's Warbler had been seen in the past few days. The boat dropped us off at the farthest point from the birds, but the walk was pleasant enough. In fact there were so many distractions along the way that the walk took me about an hour an a half. The army of hopeful Little Bunting twitchers stormed away off the jetty, and before long I was totally alone, stuffing blackberries into my mouth at the rate of about one every five yards. I was also carrying the camera, so I felt I had to use it. No Sparrow or Song Thrush was safe.

I eventually made it to the twitch, and was surprised to find that about half of the eager twitchers from the boat were missing. They never did turn up - they're probably still in a field somewhere. Stood around for a bit looking at an empty and badly-maintained tennis court, and was about to pack it in when a Yellow-browed Warbler called behind me somewhere. "Tsuee-eep!" This is one of those birding moments that happens to me very infrequently, and therefore merits full coverage (and bragging) here. Of a line of perhaps fifteen birders, only me and a bloke called Steve Arlow (he of terrible record shots...) turned round. I looked at him, and said "Yellow-browed?". He agreed. Now I'm pretty crap, and make no bones about it, but this is rubbish. If you're birding somewhere like Scilly in autumn, or in fact anywere vaguely coastal, you need to know this call. Hell, I bird Wanstead, which has never had one, and probably never will, and even I know it. Needless to say, it never called again, and we never saw it, but it was one, and I was able to proudly announce it at THE LOG, more of which later.

Shortly after this I gave up on the bunting, and went off looking for photographic opportunities. The most obvious seemed to be the Rock Pipits on the beach whilst I waited for the boat. Things started badly when a couple of birders walked straight past me and flushed my target bird within about ten minutes. They plonked themselves on the beach a few yards away, still not having noticed my prostrate form on the sand nearby, and started reading books. Nice. I heaved myself upright and tried another section of the beach. The pipits were actively feeding on the tide-line seaweed, so I kept low, positioned myself at a reasonable distance, and waited. Within a quarter of an hour, one pipit was feeding within about fifteen feet. It might have come closer, but a doddery old couple then walked straight towards my lense, and straight at the pipit, which understandably flew away. I may have made a gesture.... To be clear, I was not hiding underneath camoflague netting. I was not buried up to my shoulders in sand with only the camera poking out. I was sat in full view of everyone and everything, very obviously pointing a camera at a very obvious bird in front of me. And yet they made a beeline for me, and then expressed sorrow and surprise at having flushed the bird. Un-fucking-believable. Photographers generally get a pretty bad press, and sometimes for good reason. I am not a photographer by any stretch of the imagination, but in this instance I had applied fieldcraft and patience, only to have some ignorant/blind/give a shit couple totally destroy the opportunity I had created, and I was totally in the right. The old fool was lucky not to get a Gitzo in the face, I was really really pissed off. This was the first time all week I had made the time to properly apply myself, and a promising situation had been blown for no reason other than stupidity. Soon after that the boat came and so halfway back I threw the old git overboard.



Back on St Mary's a Cattle Egret had arrived and was giving people the run-around. Once again eager twitchers zoomed off to Porthellick. Less eager twitchers like myself, Howard and Bradders meandered over there, but it flew off before we arrived. Hmmm, what to do? The bird seemed very unsettled, indeed some birders decided to just wait at a spot with decent all-round viewing and wait for it to fly over again, a strategy which soon met with success. We climbed a hill with much the same idea, but news of a probable Richard's Pipit had us scurrying over to the airfield, mainly in case it was not a Richard's Pipit. En route we encountered the phenomenon that is Dick Filby. RBA guru, CB demi-god, and all-round enthusiastic information hub. He strode along whilst we jogged behind, and in no time at all we found ourselves near the windsock looking at an unmistakable Richard's Pipit. Bugger. At least the Cattle Egret was decent enough to do a flyby over Holy Vale/Upper Moors, so we did in fact get both birds and thus rescued a fairly poor day on the scarcity front.

In this photo H is asleep. Again. Sitting to his right is Bradders Snr, I did have a photo after all. To his right, facing left and wearing a cap, is a guy that must be stalking me, as I see him everywhere, and he knows my name, whereas rather insensitively I don't know who he is. Two further to the right, also wearing a cap, is Steve Arlow, carrying the lense I would like. Funnily enough he would like my lense, perhaps I should offer to swap?

Warning, this post may contain Geese

Geese, as everyone knows, fuck you up. Yesterday at Old Hall Marshes was no different. Bradders and I were looking for (and failing miserably to find) Ferruginous Duck. When we had scanned the Tufties and Pochards for the 20th time without rufous joy, we turned to the Brent Geese. Mistake.

Scanning a flock of at least a thousand birds produced 997 pretty standard Dark-bellied Brent Geese and 3 abnormal ones that got us quite excited, but ultimately screwed us over. The odd thing is, it becomes a bit enjoyable, addictive even - you tell yourself to leave, quit while you're ahead, but end up staying for just one more scan, and then just one more.....

1. JL's tentative Black Brant. Darker mantle than the surrounding birds, no clear tonal distinction between the neck and the breast, bright white flank patch, but probably 2/3 of the size you might expect a Brant to have. Neck collar only average, clear break at the back, and indeed some of the surrounding dark-bellieds had much wider collars. Hmmm. Stupidly did not take a photo. It was a standout bird though. If DB had not been with me I would have called it a Brant, and gone away very chuffed.

2. JL's tentative Pale-bellied. Juvenile bird, standout pale rear flanks, however front flanks, upper breast and belly tonally not much different to a dark-bellied. Possibility, but not quite right. Not having seen one of these before, I had to consult photos on the web, and it does look a bit like some juv pale-bellieds, but then again, they could be badly labelled, blind leading the blind and all that.



3. DB's tentative who the hell knows goose. Again, a standout bird, several shades lighter on the mantle and flanks, which in fact were the same tone. Kind of Canada Goose coloured. Neck, head and bill correct tone, ie no leucism going on. It could just be a funny-coloured dark-bellied. Equally, it could be a funny-coloured pale-bellied. Best just call it a Brent Goose.



If any of my vast readership have an opinion, I would love to hear it.