New horizons

I've been to London. Twice. Yes, I know I live in London, but I don't go to London so to speak. I stay here in Wanstead or I bugger off in the opposite direction to London. Seems silly really, a lot of people would give their eye teeth to visit London right now, I am able to swan around it at will yet barely ever do.

My first trip was less glamourous than that second. I went to Stratford Westfield to get my second COVID vaccination. Usually I avoid shopping centres like the plague, so a small irony that I was visiting one in order to avoid a plague. This was originally scheduled for early July but in an effort to try and dodge the worst of what is looking increasingly like a new wave, all second doses for old people like me have been brought in from 12 to eight weeks. Last Monday I cancelled my July appointment, slightly nervous that I might only get offered slots in August, but I need not have worried and I was able to book it up for 48 hours later. That was Wednesday, so I pedalled off mid morning and got it done. It was an impressive set up and I am massively grateful to the veritable army of volunteers that made it operate like clockwork. I think I interacted with something like nine or ten people. One at the head of the main queue, one at the head of the secondary "Clinic A" queue. Somebody welcomed me at the door and directed me to another person who took my temperature remotely and directed me to a colleague who stopped me briefly before pointing me to an empty chair which had just been disinfected by yet another person. Sitting down, a new man came and asked me questions about my reactions to the first vaccine and gave me little slip of paper indicating I was OK. I was then called by a friendly lady medic who took me to a booth, relieved me of my slip of paper and vaccination card, asked me to confirm my date of birth, and bade me sit down next to another medic. This lady started drawing the dose into a syringe, which was then checked by an ubermedic who had just popped in and asked me if I had a problem with needles. Naturally I said I hated them, but I also promised not to faint and fall over in the corner. A tiny prick later and it was done, the first medic gave me my freshly completed vaccination card, and off I went, passing one more person who was assessing recently jabbed people for signs of looking unwell and sitting them down. I suppose I must have looked pretty chipper as I was waved through into the sunlit uplands and was free to continue my day. A spot of shopping perhaps? It was remarkably busy, I think I was just amazed to see so many people in one place. Most of my forays have been deliberately to people-free zones, but oddly I found myself pleased to see all these perfect strangers.

My second trip was far more fun. Mrs L and went off for a dose of culture, ha ha. As you like it at the Globe on the south bank. Again, many people, but everyone looked happy. Selfie takers outside St Pauls, gaggles of tourists on the wobbly bridge, drinkers on the riverside, and of course the audience themselves. The Globeis an open-air venue, but even so capacity had been reduced by about two thirds and so nobody was sat next to anyone else and we all had to keep masks on. The lover scenes, including the triple marriage at the end, were touchingly touch free, amusingly so in fact, it is a comedy after all. Once again I found myself marveling at how many phrases in common usage today actually originate from the pen of one man writing four hundred years ago. Forever and a day, laid on with a trowel.... We grow up knowing these phrases, using them frequently even, but I bet that almost all of us have no idea where they originate and that we are quoting Shakespeare in our daily lives. With a few exceptions I am pretty much a culture free zone, so it was good to try and absorb a little bit for a change. But most of all I enjoyed being in London, "mixing" with fellow citizens, eating my dinner on the banks of the Thames looking at the city. Afterwards, as we waltzed around the behemoth of St Paul's, I commented to Mrs L that London was actually pretty cool. And it is. 

In need of multiple plans

This morning I went out onto Wanstead Flats at 4.45am. The plan was to take some lovely photographs of the sunrise - the weather here has been terrific but I have mostly been cowering indoors as Londoners swarm to our outdoor spaces. Even my rare early morning visits have felt rather tense - I actually went out yesterday as well but soon came home again as even at 8am there were so many people. I know, I thought, I'll get out before everyone else and have the place to myself. I'll take a nice wide angle lens and try to do it properly - none of this phone nonsense. Talking of which, yesterday I took this photo of the local Little Owl with my phone through one barrel of my binoculars.

Like I said, complete nonsense..... I don't know about you but a few years ago I would have been pleased with this photo if I'd used an actual camera! It was probably a fluke, but it is by far and away the best bird photo I've ever taken with just a phone. Nonetheless I felt I could do better so I also took a birding lens with me this morning. Once I was done with the magnificence of the rising sun I would get a few photos of the Owl on the way back. I love it when a plan comes together. 

So, 4.45 and I am out in the morning air. I am completely alone, I cannot see a single person anywhere. Perfect. Finally. The sky however is not quite the soft oranges and tender pinks I had been imagining. In fact one could almost describe it as grey, yes a bit dull. Hmmm. Sure enough, a low bank of cloud on the horizon is obscuring the rising sun. Buggeration. Oh well, some other time then. Thankfully I have a Plan B - Owls. They should be quite active at this time of the morning, excellent. I head to where they live and....

And there is a photographer there. At 5am. Big lens, tripod, no sign of binoculars. Curses. We have a local dog walker who knows a bit about birds. He also likes to chat, and will happily tell anyone and everyone about what he has seen. He has apparently been pointing out the Little Owl nest hole to all and sundry, and so this is the inevitable result. Even if social distancing were not a thing I would still have no real desire to photograph the bird with anyone else, and in any event it would be discourteous to set up alongside him. It is a public place and he was here first. Were I in his place, how annoyed would I be if I had got up super early to photograph a particular bird and then had another photographer turn up and get in the way? Exactly. I left him to it.

So, Plan C then. It is still really early, and it is still quite early in May. There must be a chance of a wader - no dog walkers yet, you never know. I'll go over to the local pond and see what's there. One end of Alexandra Lake has what you could say is a shoreline. The water is quite high at the moment, but the east end has a small amount of exposed ground,a beach if you will, and if there is a wader here that is where it will be. This is where I found the Black-tailed Godwit a couple of years ago, and also a Wood Sandpiper a few years before that. As I crested the rise that gives a view of this area the sense of anticipation was high.

And crushed immediately. A group of three people were taking selfies on the beach. At 5.15am. Wonderful. Love London, absolutely love it. I turned on my heel and invented Plan D. Take a photo of a bird, any bird. And quickly, before somebody else turns up. So I took this photo of a Canada Gosling. A minute later the first dog of the morning scared the whole family back into the water. 

A tale of two lists

Now that I have given up UK listing and year-listing (a brief flirtation, two or three years to get it out of my system) only a few lists now remain. I still have a passing interest in London, and a little bit of me still wants to see birds in Essex, but actually all I currently fussed about is Wanstead. The patch. I've now lived here for about 14 years, and I reckon I've been birding the place seriously for about nine of those.

How do I define seriously? Well, I have some statistics.....

I moved here in 2004. At that time a bird list was a completely unknown concept for me, and it wasn't until about 2008 that I started to record what I saw with any regularity. My earlist year list for the patch shows that I saw just 83 species, but back then that was an extremely pleasing result as the up until 2007 I had seen just 70 species ever. By the end of 2009 I had lifted this to 105, of which 102 were in that year alone. I was hooked. 

Gradually the year totals grew, as did my overall patch list. 2010 saw me record 108 species and boost my patch list to 120. A further seven in 2011 and five in both 2012 and 2013 put me on 137 with some great patch birds like Wryneck, Stone Curlew and Osprey. 2014 was a slower year with just two new birds added, but normal service was resumed in 2015 with a further five including a quite stunning Red-legged Partridge. 2016 added three more, including Ortolan Bunting and Great Grey Shrike - quality needs to be eked out. The great Hawfinch invasion of 2017 provided that year's only tick leaving me on 148, and 2018 as I am sure I have already said has been mind-bendingly good. 150 was swept aside with what amounts almost with disdain (actually I went weak at the knees, as related here)

This year is now the tenth in which I've seen over 100 and I once reached the dizzy heights of 118. It has been a slow and mostly steady climb, and a truly dedicated blogger would have made a graph. 

But there is another.....

In 2009, almost exactly two months after I started this blog I lost my job. I'd like to think the two are not connected. Whilst I didn't lose interest in Wanstead, indeed I birded it more than ever previously, I had the time to go further afield. Rainham Marshes. With children in tow I appeared at this riverside site quite frequently and gradually established myself with the local birders. Andy, Phil, Dave, Howard and others would kindly keep me updated and it was not at all unusual if I went several times a week, often on a twitch of sorts. In two years I went from 141 to 183, including such London gems as Montagu's Harrier, Snow Bunting, Merlin, Gannet and Eider. Those two years boosted my London list massively, but then along came the need to go back to work and everything slowed to a crawl once again. In the eight years since then I've added just 13. It does of course get progressively harder, but from the start of 2014 to the end of 2015 I added none at all! 

I know all this because I have kept records for Rainham in a similar fashion to my home patch. I won't bore you with them except to say that I am back in the game and a significant milestone that I really ought to have crossed many years ago is now in my sights. Last year I moved quite quickly for Quail, Black-winged Stilt and a Common Crane, and this year Marsh Sandpiper and Rough-legged Buzzard were snaffled at short notice. This leaves me on 196. I know what you are thinking.

Tantalising.

I agree, and that is why last Sunday morning shortly after first light I was on the sea wall at Rainham listening out for Siskin. Whilst I may have seen close to 200 species at the site, there are a few embarrassing blanks on my list. Others are Firecrest, Bullfinch and Raven. There are enough seasonal possibilities that could occur and indeed regularly do occur that I decided now would be a good time to really put a bit of effort in, spend a bit more time there.

But of course this comes with risks.....

I expect you can see where I am going with this.

Yes, whilst I was on the river wall at Rainham straining my ears for non-existent Siskin, Nick was happily inking in a pair of Cattle Egrets flying over Wanstead Flats, the first for donkeys years. My first genuine non-twitching attempt to add birds to this other patch list and not only do I draw a complete blank but I miss a mega back on home turf. There is probably a lesson here. 

Next weekend I'm going to Florida.

Doing the tourist thang

My son dragged me out yesterday to Greenwich and I am pleased that he did. I had been out already, my birding and photography urges sated, and was settling down for a nice chilled out lunch.

“Daddy, will you take me to Greenwich? I want to take photos of the London skyline.”

I mean, wow! Finally one of my hobbies has not been rejected! One of the holiday outings had been to the Greenwich observatory, but nobody had taken a camera and I sensed that there was some regret. It was a lovely day, the evening sky had definite promise – he was right to want to go out and enjoy it. So I said yes, finished a few tasks I had set myself – mainly to do with getting the January bird lists up and running -  and off we went. We had to go through Canary Wharf, never a nice feeling on a day off, but I closed my eyes and got through it.

The hill atop Greenwich Park was absolutely heaving, but we found a spot and settled in, working out what views might work, where the sun was, when it was due to set and so on. We probably spent a couple of hours up there getting progressively colder as the sky darkened, but we were having fun. He used my lenses and tripod for a bit, and I pulled out my under-used neutral density filter, and together we mucked about with settings, cable releases and timers. Geek central basically. 

I have to say that London is spectacular – normally I never do anything remotely touristy here as I live here. Maybe that is a mistake, as it easily rivals many of the places that I travel to. Glorious. A few of my favourites are below, and you can see that I have also changed the header of this blog, at least for a while. For the curious it is taken full-frame at 35mm using a 10 stop neutral density filter (which reduces the light hitting the sensor by 1000 times!), and an exposure of just under one minute. I have done nothing to the colours at all, although obviously the sky did not like that to the naked eye. There was a hint of pink, but the long exposure just layers it on and on and on until you get something like this. It’s a 22MP shot with more than enough detail in the file to print it, so it may just see the light of my living room wall at some point. What is has done though is confirm that 2017 needs to be about getting out there and seeing what I can do. Lord knows that I do not need yet another hobby, but in theory this will replace lounging around in bed. I also intend to actually take time out of my day and leave my desk to get lunch somewhere, which in addition to being good for me will hopefully spur me on.

Up with the Lark to Duck out early

It's migrant time and I've resumed birding. Sadly nobody told the migrants, but it was a lovely morning nonetheless, beautiful, crisp and clear. For the first time this year I heard Skylarks singing, at least four birds. A lower number than any previous year, but they're still hanging on. I won't dwell on why exactly the landowner seems powerless to act to protect them, perhaps they're just hoping the problem goes away? This strategy will of course work, I give the birds two years. 2018 and I don't expect we'll have Skylarks on the patch any more, and for that the apathy of those people with the power to actually do something will be as much to blame as those who felt that it was their right to allow their dogs run amok through the rough grass during the breeding season. Sad, but there it is.

As well as the few remaining Larks, a handful of Meadow Pipits performed their parachuting display flights, and a male Reed Bunting flew great tseeping circles. Green Woodpeckers chased each other from east to west as spanking Black-headed Gulls wheeled high overhead. Migrants were totally absent, but who cares when it's as lovely as this out there? I commented at the time that the world was a nice place. Then of course I got to work and had Brussels beamed at me for eight hours.

Anyhow, with apologies to sub-editors everywhere for the cheap title, I left work early to twitch the out-of-place Common Scoter in Rotherhithe. It's currently sat looking a bit confused on an ornamental pond in Southwark Park, and so this not being far from the salt mines of Canary Wharf I nipped out early to give it a go. I don't need Common Scoter for London, but if it was on small pond then potentially the views might be very good indeed. I barely made it before dark, and was not surprised to find Rich B there before me with the same idea. It did show very well at times, and despite the awful light the miracles of modern technology and my incredible biceps mean that 1/60s exposure can bring you this. Lovely.

Then I went back to work. Less lovely, but this is London and it never actually stops. I found my colleagues abusing my desk with balloons and so on - busted - and had to remove two kiwi fruit that had been humourously sellotaped to my monitor before I could send those last critical emails. It was probably worth it, not only to catch them red-handed, but because the Shard was looking very impressive against the rosy sky. The lens turned a few heads, but I explained that whilst not ideal it was all I had and it would have to make do. Ducks and landscapes don't mix, although in this case I actually think it worked pretty well.

London Nightjar, a Patch Tick, and a 'Fun' Run

New 'filtered' through today of a day-roosting Nightjar just down the road from me at the Middlesex Filter Beds. A local birder had spotted it whilst out  jogging, and it had subsequently attracted quite a crowd of London birders, some of whom needed it for their all-important London lists. I didn't, having seen breeding birds in the Surrey sector last year, but I went anyway as I've never seen more than a silhouette at dusk. I've long hoped to come across a day-roosting bird, but I don't really bird the right habitat for that ever to be a possibility. 

The bird was roosting in more-or-less plain view. Naturally it had chosen the exact spot where a clear photo was impossible, but I gave it a go anyway (as did Shaun, even though it clearly wasn't a Gull). A real treat for loads of local birders.

In other news I've birded the patch both yesterday and today, and come away with a full-fat patch tick in the shape of a Woodlark thanks to a timely text from Nick who had discovered it zipping round the grassy area of the Flats calling its head off. I hastened down there to find it still doing exactly that, though unfortunately those less quick off the mark were not as lucky. And then this morning I had the inspired idea to check the Park for a pair of Wigeon that were no longer on the Flats. I know, genius. And of course there they were. They take me to the astonishing total of 97 for the year, which is so piss poor I cannot even begin to tell you. Next year I promise I will make more of an effort.

And finally, hot off the press, I have just survived a fun-run. The other day I lost a huge number of BPs by driving off to Norfolk with both sets of car keys in my pocket. My rescue mission to Belgium with the second set of car keys is apparently long-forgotten, and as penance I was forced into a participating in a family fun-run in aid of Make Poverty History. I am, as you might imagine, an unexceptional runner, and the concept of the words fun and run in the same breath is entirely foreign to me. Nonetheless I whacked on a pair of trainers and set off the Park to meet the family, who were ahead of me due to the need to twitch the Nightjar. I made it to the start and picked up my number just as everyone all set off. Mrs L and the eldest set off together, and middle child went with a friend. Needless to say I didn't see them again until the finish. This left me with my youngest, now aged seven. She is not built for running, with very short legs at this point in her life, so we took it nice and slow - frankly this worked for me. How slow? Well, 5km in 45 minutes is how slow. Whereas young Master L finished in 29 minutes, Mrs L in 31, with Pie and her friend coming in at 38 minutes. So yes, we were last (as in last in our family of five, not last last - gratifyingly there are people out there less fit than I am), and no, it was not fun. But I did it, and I did not complain as much as I expected. And I am still alive, which is obviously a massive bonus, and by no means a guaranteed outcome as far as me running anywhere is concerned. Welcome to the Revolution.

Hooray, we all love Tennis!

I can't even begin to think how OTT the press are going to go on this one. I suspect it will be almost unbearable. Not that I want to diminish this great English victory of course, but you can just see it can't you? Wall to wall coverage of our greatest son, etc etc. Yawn. I mean, yes, excellent, well done, well done, but it's going to be our finest hour, a historic moment, the greatest achievement in the universe and so on. I guarantee at least one newspaper leads with Magnificent Murray, and another with Murray Rewrites History. I made it home for the final game, which to be fair I did watch, but when Sue Barker became utterly unbearable (i.e. after about three seconds) I switched it off. The best moment (apart from Andy rewriting history) was the grace of Novak Djokovic in defeat; he can come again.

I have been making history today as well. By seeing (with great skill) London's third Bonaparte's Gull. Actually more likely to be London's first or second Bonaparte's Gull, but for the second time, but this is semantics. Somehow I managed to stick it out for about five hours in baking heat, watching as this dainty gull picked little pieces of crap from a big slick of, well, crap. Mmmmm. Very smart indeed, the sixth I've seen in the UK, but the first adult summer bird, which is the whole reason I went, rather than just to get it on my Kent list, ahem. Photographically a big fat zero; with the bird close you were pointing right down at it, further away and it was, well, too far away. Go figure. Still, good to catch up with a few people, meet Steve A from Kent, and generally have a good old natter. Also saw Crofty for the first time in ages, after all it's not like I bird Wanstead any more is it? Gave him a lift back home, enjoying a brief Woolwich pelagic en route, before we settled briefly in the Park so that I could year tick Common Tern. I've been meaning to get to the Park to snaffle the Tern for approximately six weeks, but somehow have been completely unable to get my shit together. In the event it was sitting on its favoured branch as soon as I turned up, and was all a bit anticlimactic. 104 for the year, with a few easy ones remaining, but only if I can pull my finger out and actually go birding locally before work which is proving nigh on impossible at the moment. So, here a few photos of today's Gull. To be honest it was nice to stand around and have nothing to do for a while, my hectic schedule is beginning to catch up with me.

Clearly showing the size difference

I like this nice clean background, just what I was after

Approaching OK

Above Average

If somebody were to ask me how the weekend had gone, I would definitely say that it had been above average. Whether it could have got better following yesterday's Wheatear is an unfair question; of course it couldn't. However today was nonetheless pretty fabulous, and all the more so for being one of those incredibly bitter days where only rock hard birders like me are out in the field. Ahem. It was decidely un-late-March-like out there this morning, and after about an hour or so I was close to coming home. Bird of the day at that point had been a Lesser Scaup lookalike that failed to fool me - interesting, and nice to see, but not what I had in mind.

Another bird that didn't have in mind was Stone Curlew, so it was pretty sensational when tramping across the Broom Fields that one caught my eye as it flew ahead of me a short way. I wasn't sure what I was looking at for a moment, but it banked slightly showing a fair amount of black and white in the wing, and thus causing me to have a minor heart attack. It couldn't be, could it? After the bird Nick had found in April 2011, most people, myself included, had given up on ever seeing one again. If you recall, I jammed that one on the second day of it's stay, but it was never seen again. So another one, less than two years later? Surely not. But it was. Even without bins it looked pretty mega, and I already felt bold enough to phone both Nick and Dan with news of a probable heading towards the SSSI. And dropping in! I don't often run, but I did this time. As I crossed the road I became aware of it flying, and managed a series of record shots that confirmed what I had suspected. It banked around the back of Motorcycle Wood and didn't come out the other side. Game on!

It took a long time, but eventually the bird popped up again some distance from where I had seen it disappear, and perhaps ten people saw it, including Muffin who I had gone home to fetch. It appeared to go down into the Broom Fields, so we headed that way, only to discover that it had looped around and flown off high NW. OVER MY HOUSE. Still, can't really complain can I?

Back home a short while later, tucking into a nice healthy brunch, I noted that the Red-throated Diver was still on Staines Reservoirs. I've seen a couple Black-throated, and more than a few Great Northerns, but this one has always eluded me - I've usually been away, or working. So with most of the day still ahead of me, I cajoled Muffin into getting into the car, and off we went. I cannot begin to describe how unpleasant the causeway between the two basins was. If I had thought Wanstead was cold, this raised the bar (perhaps lowered it....) substantially. And it wasn't a simple bowl up find a birder with the Diver in their scope either - there was nobody there. Eventually I found it on the north basin, but not before I had lost the feeling in my left hand - one of the problems with my scope setup is that the tripod head is pure metal, there is no nice rubberised handle. A quick record shot and were out of there!

Feeling pretty chuffed, we were nearly at the M11 when my phone went off - it was Dan Dan the Wader Man, with two Golden Plover ON THE DECK on Wanstead Flats. Wow, though these days Dan is of course followed around the patch by rare waders. I'd missed Goldie by about a minute a few weeks ago, a chance to get it back was very welcome but I wasn't ideally placed. Could the weekend get any better? I aimed the car at the nearest spot to the relevant playing field, and just as I was pulling up I glanced out across the Flats and was somewhat stunned to see the Plovers in the air. Tick and drive! They circled around and appeared to drop back. Abandoning the car we headed off towards to Long Wood, finding Bob also heading that way, who having scored the Stone Curlew was no doubt also wondering if he wasn't dreaming all of this. Dan was still there, and so were the birds, and so I was able to have a bit of a creep.....

So, the first Wheatear of the year on my birthday. A Stone Curlew on the patch, a London tick, and Goldies on the deck. Do weekends get any better?

All East London Blogs are the same

At the risk of boring you all, I went to Dartford this morning to see the extremely approachable Slav Grebe. So did everybody else - just look at my links! When I got there Kev J, Mick S and Richard S were already there, Shaun and Monkey had already been, and Redsy, Rich B and Hawky turned up after I did! Bloody photographers..... I've been wanting to see this bird all week, and when I found out that it was on the small lake again yesterday evening, it was too late! I'd have liked several hours with it, but today was not a birding day, and it was either a smash-and-grab raid with the kids this morning or nothing at all. It was a tick for all three of them though, so fairly easily justified. Typically, and I know I'm a moaning old whingebag, there was too much light - black and white birds in full sunlight are a right old pain - always work in manual, as AV will lead you a merry dance in these conditions. I took a couple of test shots as soon as I got there which were nearly on the money (and almost recoverable) - shame then that this was the highlight of the action - the Grebe caught an enormous fish - it might have been a species of fin whale. It then went and had a quiet vomit and some Rennies under the trees at the back before doing another quick circuit of the pond. I caught it on the way back round, but then it was time to go. I took exactly 86 shots, four of which are below, and was there for a total of about 45 minutes, most of which was spent nattering about lenses and an upcoming trip to Morocco. Mick, who smashed it during the week in ideal light, didn't even turn his camera on, admirable restraint. I'm relatively pleased with what I got - as I said when I turned up, all I had to do was take a crappy hand-held shot with the bird right on the other side of the pond and I'd have my best ever photo of Slavonian Grebe right there.

 

The rest of the day was spent as a cleaner and taxi driver, ferrying children to and fro from parties, and generally being a good father. I managed another quick hour on the Flats during which I saw diddly squat - my patch list is dead in the water and it's only January. The bad thing about this is that I don't actually care. I caned through God knows how many frames this weekend and had an absolute ball doing it. Heaps more to come once I've finished going through them, however another week of work beckons, and I can tell you now that it's going to be a bad one!

Insert Smutty Title Here

I went to Walthamstow today for a Shag. Had a Shag on West Warwick. A Shag in London is pretty rare. Hawky and I had a Shag round the back of the Reservoirs. Shagging in East London. Best Shag I've had in ages..... frankly the possibilities are endless. Suffice it to say it's only the second Shag I've had in London. Oh, there I go again, whoops. Anyway, the small Cormorant-like bird - somewhat of a rarity in London - showed quite well, and I managed a couple of high-ISO snaps of it in crappy light. If you want to see it, go sooner rather than later as I am told they all die eventually, though this one has been there nine days so far and still looks pretty chirpy to me. The last one I saw, indeed the first and until today only one, was on East Warwick, so my Warwick Reservoir Shag list is now complete. Happy days. That one was rubbish as it stayed on a raft right in the middle the whole time. This bird was a most obliging Shag, coming multiple times right up to the edge and giving great views. Or you could just say Fnarr fnarr and have done with it.

Birders Drinks and the birders who drink them

It was Christmas drinks recently. Well, pre-Christmas drinks really, as Christmas has yet to come, and if the Mayans have anything to say, never will. In the unlikely event we all make it through the night, I felt blog readers might enjoy an exclusive view into the world of birding on the East (and Buff-bellied Pipit not withstanding, best) side of London. Fortunately a camera was on hand to record the event, and especially fortunately for Shaun, it also takes video.

Every month I travel several hundred miles out to Hornchurch for an event known as Birders Drinks. Hornchurch is the chosen location as the pub is about two nanoseconds from Shaun's house, ten from the Mo's, and no more than a minute for practically everyone else apart from myself and Bradders. I am very fortunate that Mrs B enjoys coming out to Hornchurch to drive me back to Wanstead each month, with the happy consequence for Bradders that he also gets a lift home. In December, the usual monthly drinks are replaced with drinks and a Christmas meal. The cuisine at the Railway in Hornchurch is not to be over-estimated, but we keep going back - it's convenient for Shaun and Mo.

So, to the attendees (some of whom are lucky enough to get a blog link over to the right somewhere, though with my various blog width/resolution tribulations, I accept it's entirely possible you have never heard of any of them). Anyhow, in alphabetical order...

Baconboy
Steve B has been twitching for longer than he cares to remember, and his list is about to hit the magic 500. Mind you if you take away dodgy ducks he's only on about 380. He is a chemist, so plastic is indeed fantastic. There is nothing he has not twitched, but he swears he is going to stop twitching very soon. Just as soon as birds he needs stop arriving.
Patch: Fairlop

Bradders
Seen here (on the right) deep in conversation with a slim and handsome birder who lives miles away from Hornchurch, Bradders likes nothing better than to jump in the car for a brief drive to South Shields. Via Exeter. Known for not yearlisting every year, for being extremely uncompetitive when it comes to lists of things, and for waiting at least three minutes after news breaks before setting off on a twitch.
Patch: The UK.

Blowmonkey
Another local patchworker of renown, Monkey is seen here departing to another social engagement. To be honest, we're lucky we see him at all such is his popularity. Known principally for preparing for twitches in the minutest detail, and for dipping repeatedly. A staunch teetotaler, Monkey nonetheless would prefer to be driven to rares so he can 'stay up late'. Or something.
Patch: Errr.....

Dave the Beard
Nobody knows how old Dave really is, but he is happy to live it up with all us young people as beer has no effect on him. Dave was the organisational brains behind this year's Christmas Bash, though the Ann Summers Party that he promised would be sharing the dining suite with us never turned up. Dave only goes birding three times a day, as the rest of the time he is abroad.
Patch: The Ingrebourne Valley.

Dick
Dick has been birding everyone else's patch in London well before they ever did. Pretends to be Irish. In his mid-seventies now, Dick prides himself on being much fitter than people 1/3rd his age. Like me. Works only one day a week, and so by the time the weekend comes has already seen all the birds the rest of us still need.
Patch: Yours.

Hawky
Very shy and retiring, Hawky likes a quiet night in, and the thought of an all-night rave makes him physically sick. Magnetically attracted to rare birds, but likes to think of them as common. Has been birding since he was eight months old. It would be fair to say he likes a drink.
Patch: Barking Bay, The Mighty Masey.

 Gay Birders Club Shaun (L), Hawky (R)

Lee
A new recruit to the hallowed pumps (and kitchen) of the Railway, Lee has yet to take the dark path known as twitching. So far we have kept him away from Bradders, so he still thinks Rainham is the where all the good birds are. It won't last forever, but for now Lee remains as pure as the driven snow. 
Patch: The Ingrebourne Valley, Rainham.

Mo
Semi-retired, the Mo does not need sleep and can most often be found phoning and texting you in the middle of the night. Peregrine fan extraordinaire, there are no lengths to which Mo will not go in order to get as high as he possibly can up London's skyline. A keen photographer, Mo has an unparalled understanding of exposure theory, and of exactly how many pixels a bird must cover in a photo (twelve). Only snores when asleep.
Patch: Barking Bay, The Ingrebourne Valley, any man-made structure >30m above sea level.

Redsy
Redsy works eight days a week, so doesn't really have much time for birding. That said, he usually only takes jobs that are right next door to rare birds, and so keeps his list ticking along nicely. Updates his blog at least twice a year.
Patch: North Weald.

Rob
Like Lee, Rob is a relatively new addition to Birders Drinks, but most welcome as he owns a taxi that can seat all of us. Has been birding a long time, but still needs Robin. Known for staying awake all the time, and definitely not falling asleep at all. Hates football, especially small local teams that he says are a complete waste of time.
Patch: The M25, Gatwick North Terminal.

Russ
Quietly-spoken Russ has never been absent from Birders Drinks, and his favourite tipple is whatever bitter is on tap. Most often found in the company of Dave the Beard, Russ's mission in life is to obliterate the shutters of as many DSLRs as possible while he can still move his index finger. So far he is doing very well, and the Nikon Corporation of Japan owes him it's continued existence.
Patch: The Ingrebourne Valley.

Shaun
Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. No. The most decisive birder I know, Shaun rarely misses an opportunity to go on a twitch as he hates staying at home and being a good boy. Married to the lovely Jo, to whom he has given all his trousers. Known for being extremely messy, taking very good care of his binoculars, and never redecorating his house.
Patch: The Ingrebounre Valley.

Steve S
Another mammoth twitcher, Steve never misses a bird. Steve's body is a temple, and rare is it that any non-organic substance passes his lips. Fags don't count. And neither do kebabs. Best known for needing invasive surgery to remove pencil rubbers from his ear canal.
Patch: The Ingrebourne Valley.

Everyone
And finally, everyone. Apart from me thankfully, one of the fringe benefits of always being behind the camera.

Devaluing Shetland

I may not go to Shetland again, there is no need - all the birds are turning up down south. After twitching a fabulous Hornemann's Arctic Redpoll last weekend in Suffolk, which shared all the same merits as the birds on Shetland but without the 2,500mph winds, today I found myself over in west London for a Buff-bellied Pipit - another species which up until now I had only seen in the far north. It showed down to about three feet, and took about fifty minutes to get to. Shetland, start to finish, takes about seven hours to get to, and that's by flying. I've also been on the boat; that takes an entire day and night.

I've been to Shetland three times. Each time the cost, once everything is factored in, approaches £700 - taxi, flights, accomodation, car hire, petrol, inter-island ferries, food and a small amount of beer, not to mention the astronomical cost in Brownie Points....... Perhaps I've been unlucky, but the number of ticks on Shetland over those three visits is only eight. Prior to getting back home this October, that was a Bagnall-esque £262.50 per bird. Almost as soon as I touched down at Gatwick, so too did several Siberian Stonechats. £300 a bird then. Last weekend the cost went up to £350, less a small amount of petrol, and this morning, £420, following a quick jaunt around the M25.

Bearing in mind that I went to Tobago (where it was 30 degrees every day, with Trogons) for the same cost as one of those trips to Shetland, those wet and windy weeks in October are looking less and less appealing. And it's not as if I've seen any particularly monster birds up there, a few specialties like Lanceolated Warbler, but nothing silly like a Sibe Rubythroat. In fact at £420 a bird, and rising, I could actually twitch Shetland for the really good stuff and still be ahead. And warm in the Caribbean. Still, there is always the craic and the non-stop alcoholism.

The bird today, just like the Redpoll last week, was fantastic, if a little frustrating as it refused to go near any sunshine for all but the briefest flashes. It steadfastly remained right on the bank below the sides of the reservoir, shielded from the sun by a low wall, and making pleasing angles all but impossible - this however is where the reach of the 800mm comes in very handy, you can negate quite a lot of the "looking down" effect that shorter lens cannot avoid if they want to get a decent-sized bird in the frame. There were also about three million twitchers there, and an astonishing number of tooled-up photographers. Every man and his dog seemingly has a 500mm prime these days. That's one of the positives for Shetland - very often it's just you and a handful of others, or at least it was on my first trip in 2010. This time around and I didn't dare try and get near the Buff-bellied Pipit at Rerwick as the beach had about 80 twitchers on it! Perhaps it's time to start going somewhere isolated and twitcher-free like North Ron? Or Scilly - apparently there were only two birders there this autumn, and both so decrepit that I could easily have outrun them....

Or, more likely, abroad. You see some fabulous birds up close, and mostly you're alone and left alone. "Oi mate, whatya lookin' at?!" The bird that just flew away.

Wanstead's most attractive Woodpigeon

Came across an unbelievably gorgeous Woodpigeon today. I fear its beauty hasn't much longer to shine though, there is something not quite right with its tail.... It's not every day that a Woodpigeon makes you involuntarily gag, but that's what happened when I was photographing Mistle Thrushes and it strayed into my viewfinder. I wonder what on earth has happened to it? It wasn't particularly alert, not that many are I suppose, but this one appeared to have significantly dulled reactions. Horrible, poor thing.

Do you think it looks better from the left....

....or from the right?

In other news, I saw a Nuthatch today in Reservoir Wood, and then again by Heronry. Nuthatch is an inexplicably rare bird in Wanstead given the lovely habitat that exists in the Park. There must be something I am missing, certainly I can't hope to understand what makes Nutchatches tick, but I've been to lots of places that appear at least superficially to be identical, and they are crawling with Nuthatches. I've seen four in Wanstead in eight years, not a very convincing total, so let's hope that they are on the way back. Not much else going on across the patch, fairly quiet in comparison with recent days. I guess this is the problem with excellence; it becomes difficult to maintain. A Little Egret flying west across the Flats was a patch tick though, seen plenty in the Park but none here before, so most pleasing. I kind of punched the air, but not really as I was standing next to Barry and he doesn't need to know what a saddo I am.

Directions to this crippling mega on the Wiki

Talking of saddos, I am getting drawn in to a handbagging match on the London bird sightings page. I would have done better to have stayed out of it, it's like Birdforum all over again, so a huge 'fail' on my part. In a nutshell a loud-mouthed American has turned up and loves the sound of his own typing. Me too, that's probably why it's all going wrong - but I have a blog for my creative output. He doesn't, so he just uses the blog, sorry I mean sightings page, to tell London birders where they might be so lucky as to see a Chiffchaff or other scarce bird, which branch of a tree it is in, and what the weather is like. I put it down to over-enthusiam, severe obstinance, and cultural differences. I must be overly-traditional, preferring a sightings page to concisely summarise what birds are to be found across the capital. My opinion means nothing though, and unfortunately he has become a cause celebre for seemingly masses of disenfranchised birders who need help with finding Chiffchaffs and other rare breeding birds, and so I now find myself somewhat marginalised and accused of pedantry. Such as shame, as I'm actually right, but that doesn't count. I suspect I'm going to get bored of an editing war long before this guy and his groupies do, and sarcasm has no effect either. Even a great joke about Garden Warblers being borin' went completely over their heads, an indication that there is no more I can do. So, completely powerless in the face of a mounting storm of verbal diahorrea that is swamping what used to be quite an easy to use resource, I'm giving up. Given my heritage it pains me to say that I hope his visa is only temporary. If he ever does see the light and start a blog though, I'm going to be the first follower, the style is, is, well, words fail me if the truth be told.

Oh, and yes, I did get assaulted by a dog on the patch today, just as I knew I would. Once again it was my fault (camera), and it improved my already great mood massively.

And breathe......