September on the Patch....

....is so far very similar to August. In fact it involves most of the same birds, including all of yesterday's Whinchats and possibly an extra one for good measure. A couple of Redstart still knocking around as well, but quality was provided by a Green Sandpiper heading west across the Flats. I was chasing the aforementioned Whinchats around the Broom Fields, and had got within the requisite 40m before they all took flight again, when I heard a wader call, high and piercing. Looking around desperately yielded nothing, but it called again twice whilst remaining invisible. I was texting out the news of wader goodness when a text from Nick came through. I had thought he was at Long Wood, but in fact he was somewhere over towards the Alex, and had had a Green Sand over calling. He hadn't seen it either, but no matter, mystery solved, and checking my phone confirmed that the high call notes were indeed the species I had been wondering about. Happy days.



This was as close as I came, which with 1120mm of focal length tells you all you need to know.

This proved the only high note of the morning, the Whinchats were completely impossible, and a brief glimpse of a Redstart diving between cover had me scuttling home - there is only so long I want to schlep a big lens around for without actually doing anything with it. So instead I have devoted the rest of the day to sorting out my greenhouse, which before birding took over my life was a mainstay of my OCD. The scene inside was of major devastation. Even though the plants I like are mostly from arid zones, there is only so much that even they can take, and I have unfortunately managed to kill loads of them. Mainly these were seedling plants, the ones that really needed tender loving care, whereas the larger plants have more in reserve and can last longer. I am a fool. So, a massive cleaning exercise, lots of disposing of dead plants, lots of tipping soil away, and a back-breaking trip to the dump to dispose of the lot. But it looks great now! Whilst I was having my sort out, I also swept and scrubbed the floor, and scrubbed the walls (yes, my greenhouse has walls....) and the dirty bits of the frame. I've got rid of all the mould, sprayed away many of the bugs, and basically done what I ought to have done about five months ago. It almost looks pristine, and I've resolved to enjoy it again.

This Green Woodpecker landed vaguely near Bob and I whilst we were discussing which waders we hadn't seen on the patch.

The feeling of satisfaction, although tinged with sadness at the loss of rare plants, is hard to beat. It has been on successive to-do lists for absolutely ages and ages. Why I decided to start it in September, when the whole of June had been available I have no idea, call it stupidity, but it is done. I actually started last night, and in total the job has taken somewhere between seven and eight hours of non-stop work. Mostly lows when confronted with yet another death, but a huge high when with no small amount of pleasure I also discovered two bottles of Scotch down there, a reminder of a time when I wasn't just processing photos and blogging all the time. Back then I thought nothing of actually sitting down and doing very little in my special greenhouse chair, sometimes even falling asleep in the muggy warmth whilst the fans whirred and the foliage rustled. I always kept a wee something down there for precisely those times, and although covered in cobwebs and muck, liquid remained within. The label on one had been completely eaten away by snails, but I recall that if was The Glenlivet. The other is obviously a Glenfiddich, though in a brown bottle rather than green, whatever that means, as the snails and slugs have had the crucial information. Naturally I checked that both were fine, a quick swig from each one, and am pleased to confirm that several years of neglect, sub-zero temperatures and then high thirties, seem to have had no impact on their sipping qualities, so I may take a glass down there. I've just fumigated it, done a final sweep up, a final bit of house-keeping, and all is good. Time to start buying plants again I guess.....

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!

Hot Grebe Porn: Mrs Grebe does Wanstead IV

Mrs Grebe's nest has broken. What to do? Yes, that's right, invite a workman in to fix it. Let's call him Mr Grebe.

Here he comes now, looking muscle-bound yet sly.

Mrs Grebe answers the door. She is dressed wholly inappropriately. Oh dear, can you believe it, she appears to have dropped something. She bends down to pick it up. Provocatively.

Mr Grebe feigns no interest. He is here only to fix the nest remember.

Mrs Grebe reveals she is feeling really horny, despite not being Slavonian. Mr Grebe can resist no longer, and approaches Mrs Grebe. From behind, obviously.

The money shot.

Mrs Grebe pretends to be shocked at what has happened.

More Wryneck

The Wryneck is still here and proving fairly popular. It has a lot to answer for actually, as we had Lee Evans here this morning. Patch Tick.

Sheer Delight

Once again I invite you to take a trip on the roller-coaster that is my birding life. As the title suggests, this time it is good news.

True to my word, this morning I was out on the Flats at dawn, all of yesterday's nonsense forgotten. I was birding, I had found a Wheatear, and I was having fun. Wryneck score zero, but nevermind. I found a very interesting dumpy and large-looking warbler in an elder which promptly disappeared, but this did not deter me in any way from thinking what a nice morning it was. I noted Nick wandering up the path, and noted Betsy charging through the protected Skylark habitat. All was well with the world. We (that's Nick & I, rather than Betsy & I) chewed the fat for a bit, mulled over yesterday's extraordinary events, and then all too soon it was time for me to go.

Around 9ish, as I was on the school run, my phone went. An involuntary "Nooooooooooooh!" escaped my lips - and this is before I had even answered it. As expected, Nick had refound the Wryneck, this time down near Alex. Sensing a repeat of yesterday's trials, I asked him to stay with it and beat any dogs and dog-walkers to death with his tripod if they looked like coming close.

Thankfully this wasn't required, or not that he mentioned anyway, and after completing a rather fraught dumping of children, Pudding and I made our way to the Flats. As I approached I could see Nick, Paul F and Tim peering intently at a Hawthorn. Could it be true?!

It was! I pitched up, and there it was in a scope. Sensational! I've dipped more Wrynecks than I have seen, so to get a second bite at the cherry this morning and to actually succeed was very unexpected. As I said yesterday, a dream bird for the patch, and an amazing relief. We watched it for about two hours, and all of yesterdays dippers returned and managed to see it as well, including Paul W, and also Dom, who managed to see it within about ten seconds of arriving and thus had time to pop over to Long Wood. I think that's what he said, although possibly it was more along the lines of he was never going near Long Wood again. Can't remember. Anyway, we all enjoyed excellent views as it fed on and around the numerous ant-hills that dot this area of the Flats. I returned home to get my camera, and the bird promptly disappeared. Luckily Paul F was more prepared, and has sent me this.

What a little stunner!!

What will tomorrow bring I wonder? It almost doesn't bear thinking about - I should probably start popping the pills now!

Shear Magic

Forgive the Sun headline, but I am still in shock. At home being VERY domestic, my phone rang - it was Paul W, rapidly becoming a top wind-up merchant. "Manx Shearwater at Rainham" Eh? The last time he rang it was with news of a White-tailed Plover. I didn't believe him then, and despite a mega-coincidence of one then turning up, I struggled to believe him today.

But yet again he wasn't winding me up, it was true! Puffin(us) Hell! In my desperation to get to 200, frankly you could tell me anything and I'd probably believe it eventually. I'm not sure which I drove faster to, the Plover, or today's Manx. It doesn't really matter, both were highly naughty. Allegedly.

On the old Sea-wall a small huddle of people were stood. Andy T, the finder, who had happened to glance at the river at a very opportune moment, got his scope lined up, my head slotted into position, and there it was, having a rather nasty time of it on the river. If you are a small sea-bird, a bay next to a rubbish tip with a large assortment of loafing larids is a very bad place to be. I genuinely feared for its life for about twenty minutes, before the gulls gave up and let it drift down the river. A Rainham, London and Essex tick, and a pretty astonishing one at that. I willed it to fly away! Er, I mean, I willed it to stick around - and not get eaten.

I thought it would be a 'tick and run' bird, but it was still there three hours after turning up. Shearing up the river, then drifting back down, and no doubt causing some nervousness amongst employed London Listers. Sunset is at 7:15pm, in case anyone is wondering.

Sea-watch

Porthgwarra, Friday 21st

2:30am. Arrive. Sleep.
5:50am. Wake up after superbly long and comfortable sleep.
6:20am. See Brett Richards arriving and getting out his scope. Feel extremely positive about prospects.
4:30pm. Down scopes, retreat to public house with sore eye.

The view from Porthgwarra Cove.

Well what a day we had! Bradders, Hawky and I watched the sea for a little over 10 hours from Porthgwarra cove. The haul was 4 Great Shearwaters, 111 Balearic Shearwaters, 11 Sooty Shearwaters, 108 Manx Shearwater, 5 Storm Petrels and 153 Kittiwakes. We didn't count the Gannets and Fulmars that streamed past constantly. The Balearic Shearwater passage was remarkable. I had known that there were many more birds than normal in the Channel but to personally see over a hundred go past was astonishing. Brett stayed a further five hours and almost broke the day record of 160. The man is a legend. You can't name a sea bird that he hasn't found, well not without being incredibly pedantic. Three out of four times I have sea-watched from Porthgwarra he has been there, proving beyond doubt that I can read a weather forecast.

Balearic Shearwaters

Over the weekend we recorded another Great Shears, a further 43 Balearics, 98 Manxies, 2 Sooties and 17 Stormies. Note the abbreviations, I am a proper sea-watcher. To put this into context I had seen a sum total of 14 Balearic Shearwaters previously. Anywhere.

OK, so we didn't get the random mega we were hoping for, and Bradders was somewhat of a dissident when it came to assessing Paul and I's Wilson's Petrel sightings. We saw at least two, but he rubbished them both...Nonetheless it was a superb session and well worth the trip.

We watched the sea all Friday and Saturday, and whilst Saturday wasn't as good, there was still enough to keep me interested. Bradders on the other hand fell asleep and missed a Great Shearwater. Actually, so did Hawky and I, as we were otherwise engaged attempting to photograph Gannets as they went past - more difficult against the heaving sea than you might think.

Sea-watching is a funny old pasttime. Now I'm back home it seems very odd that I would sit immobile on a headland, through rain, wind, fog and drizzle, my eye glued to a scope with a section of drainpipe stuck on the end to repel water. But I did, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The junk food consumption was predictably insane, and combined with walking a total distance of about 200 metres and sitting on my backside all weekend, I have come back much fatter. Nevermind, there are always sacrifices, and if they involve pasties and Double Deckers I for one am happy to make them.

The tale was a familiar one. That of complete and utter incompetence to start with, especially during the first hour, followed by a gradual improvement in accuracy and speed of identification. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I'm very good at it yet, but by the end of the weekend I was calling more and more things with unerring confidence.

"Gannet!"

Quite literally a sight for sore eyes!

White-tailed Plover flight path

Hot news is that Sam's White-tailed Plover is now at Slimbridge. Nice that the WWT can have a chance too, let's hope they follow Rainham's example by facilitating access. The good news is that those who dipped get a second chance. The bad news is that the bird just became £7.25 more expensive.

For people wondering if the Plover may have flown over their patch on its way to Gloucestershire, I have thoughtfully produced a map of the direct flight path for your convenience. Tick away!!

OMG, Patch Sensational

More dedication = more ticks. If the patch was on fire a few days ago, it is now a raging inferno. Another tick! If I carry on at this rate - approximately one every 2 days - I'll have run out of birds by Christmas and will need to move.

The girls and I were doing a butterfly transect. This is the first time I have done it, so we were quite slow, consulting the map frequently and so on. What we weren't doing was identifying butterflies. Not because of my consumate lack of skill in this area, but due to the consumate lack of butterflys in the whole area. In an hour and a half, we saw three butterflies. The first one was white, and we couldn't identify it because it flew over the Skylark nesting area where we couldn't follow. Ditto the second, except it was reddy-orange. What a great hobby! The third was a Peacock, and was sitting out on the path. As I approached it stealthily with my camera, it flew off. Rubbish. I see more butterflies in my garden when looking up at the sky. I'm not exactly sure how I should report my "findings", perhaps I'll just do it again later and hope I see more. The girls were not enthused - I had been talking it up, cajoling them to do it with me. It was crap, and they were bored.

However, as I alluded to earlier, it was most definitely not in vain. On the penultimate leg of our transect, I heard a Turtle Dove purring from the copse just to the west of Long Wood. Not a full-on hey look at me purr, but a short and to the point purr. We stopped looking for butterflies - not hard really - and concentrated on the Dove. Couldn't find it. Then it purred again, a bit more sustained this time. I parked the girls in a sunny patch and started looking properly. More purring. Where was it? I was distracted by a tug on the back of my shorts. Given my proximity to Long Wood, this could have been a very serious problem, but luckily it was just Pudding. I say luckily, she had done a wee in her trousers. On balance, still the better outcome, but it meant we had to go home, and so I never did see the Turtle Dove and it will have to go down as "heard only". But it still goes down! #113!!

This Mallard has nothing at all to do with this post . As might be expected from a "heard only" record, I didn't get any photos of the Turtle Dove.