Patch Milestone

Cornwall was fairly gripping. I was out of mobile range for much of the time, and whenever I did momentarily get a signal, my phone was bombarded with a flurry of text messages. Most of them were from Wanstead, where the faithful were seemingly having a rather good weekend. Tree Pipits, Wheatears, Whinchats, Spotted Flycatchers and Redstarts were all on the menu, and languishing on 99, my Wanstead yearlist dearly needed the latter two.

Despite a marathon eight hour journey from Cornwall, including popping my offside front tyre on a sadistic and unnecessary curb, my first thoughts were to get out on the Flats to see if they were still there. I am ashamed to say I didn't even go home first.

Nick was still there, fiercely guarding the Hawthorn of Redstart happiness from all comers. I decided to have a quick look for the Spotted Flycatchers first, and was rewarded with two very close birds for a 2009-equalling 100 on the patch. Last year I didn't get there until December 22nd, so who knows where I'll end up. 101 perhaps?

I returned with my camera from the car, but the Flycatchers had relocated to a more distant area of bushes so I decided to concentrate on the Redstart instead. These are amongst my favourite of all birds, and seeing it was the work of moments. I stayed on one side of the bush, Nick walked towards the other side. He hadn't taken more than a few steps when a female-type Common Redstart hopped out into the low branches on my side. I whistled and gave the thumbs-up, Nick stopped, and the Redstart hopped back in. We had retreated and started chewing the fat when I noticed movement a bit further away. We moved round a bit for a better angle, and found a male Redstart sat low in some burnt brambles. Superb, and definitively 101.

I need to go back and re-read what my goals for 2010 were, but I think I'm right in saying that getting 100 on the patch was one of them, and possibly it was getting more than 100. Whichever, I'm an achiever, and anything else is a bonus. Osprey please.

Seeing as I'm done so early, I may add a late goal, which is to find an unfortunate photo of Bradders and post it up here in high-res. He has very cruelly taken advantage of my broken foot and associated reduced speed of camera-avoidance, and whilst on Blakeney Point a couple of weeks ago snapped me in a rather unflattering pose. I suppose I do need a haircut, but to compare me with a C-list celeb like Susan Boyle is most unkind, even if people do come up to me on Porthgwarra and ask how my toe is.

Kestrel hunting small mammals sheltering in my hair.

Essex Winter Birding. Dreadful.

A terrible day out today spent largely on the Essex Coast. Not year-listing, no no no. I was accompanying some rabid year-listers, but personally I was just hoping for a Robin or two, a couple of Blackbirds, and possibly a Fieldfare or Skylark. Took Bradders' new Subaru as my car is hors service.... Very comfy, very warm, good fuel economy, but oddly has a boot where the sub-woofer should be. Still, despite the lack of bass, it seems to go OK.

Gutted of Wanstead, Show-home Shaun, Hawkeye Hawkins, The Blowmonkey, Dave "McRae" Bradders, Martin Redsy

Met Hawky, SHS, Monkey and Redsy at dawn at Abberton for the long-staying Spotted Sandpiper. Not a filthy year-tick, we were there as Redsy needed it. Altruist that I am, I needed to help show him where to go, which fence to hop and so on. Yes, I was just helping. I didn't even scope it. In fact I had my eyes shut, er yes that's right, yes, my eyes were shut. But as I was walking back it flew past me. Sorry. It was no good pretending I hadn't seen it, or trying to string it into a Common Sandpiper, it was too late. So a bad start to the day. I also very unfortunately saw a Spoonbill, a Whooper Swan, 2 Jays, many Goosander, an Eygptian Goose, and four Smew, all of which were year ticks. I would have stayed in the car, but I was getting too hot. All I wanted to see were Wigeon actually.

After this disaster we carried on to the causeway at Mersea Island, as I like the landscape there very much. Whilst admiring the various views through my scope and binoculars I sadly noticed some Brent Geese, Oystercatchers, Knot, Turnstone, and a Grey Plover. And then before I could stop myself, I identified a Spotted Redshank. I just blurted it out. Hoping against hope I had got it wrong and it was in fact just a Redshank, I hurried to get a better view, and was aghast to see not only a spanking winter-plumaged Spotted Redshank, but also a Greenshank right next to it. Aaaargh, 100 for the year!

Brents

Could it get any worse? Well, yes. Next stop the point at East Mersea where I hoped to get some nice shots of the shingle. Luckily it was devoid of Snow Buntings, but whilst looking at a Harbour Porpoise - quite safe, I don't keep a mammal year-list - some Avocets flew past. Damn it. And then whilst panning to see which yacht was the biggest I noted a couple of Eider and distant Red-breasted Merganser.

Slavonian Grebe

It occured to us that Roll's Farm near Tollesbury might be good for some Skylark and Fieldfare flocks, both of which I had already seen this year. Whilst scanning the Blackwater Estuary for these, we saw a Red-throated Diver, at least three Great Northern Divers, and up to six Slavonian Grebes. These things can't be helped I suppose, but to say I was disappointed is an understatement. To make matters worse, Hawky found a Barn Owl that I instinctively looked at before I realised what I was doing, and a bloody Kingfisher called right in front of me as we were walking back. Bradders dropping his pasty and then treading on it briefly lightened my mood, but then I added up what I seen and realised I was on 108 for the year, and immediately sank into a deep depression.

Unbelievably unlucky to run into this

The boys decided that they would cheer me up with an ice-cream. There didn't seem to be any place to get one nearby, so we drove to Southend as Rossi's ice cream parlour is usually pretty good. As we parked the car I looked up and saw a Ring-billed Gull on a lamp-post. You could not have written it. I mean what were the chances of that? Gutted, absolutely gutted. Inconsolable, I stared at the sea, trying to ignore the Med Gulls. To take my mind off these, I took some pictures of the Turnstones. Kneeling down to get a more pleasing angle, my day got worse as I squidged straight into a turd. I would have thought that Essex was quite a long way to take your dog for a walk if you live in Cornwall, but it seems that distance is no object when it comes to pissing me off. This was the absolute low point of my day, but the highlight of four other people's. Would have been five, but Redsy had left us by then. Quasi-amusing pictures coming to a blog near here soon I suspect. I wiped most off with a broad-leaved plant, and then went to a cafe where a waitress kindly squirted table-cleaning stuff on my leg and gave me some napkins.

Finished the day off with about 20 Bar-tailed Godwits as I was admiring the setting sun on Two Tree Island. What difference does it make frankly? I was barely registering any pain at this point, it was all over. 25 year-ticks in a day where I hadn't thought I'd get any, and a new total of 111 which matches exactly what I was on by the 3rd January last year. This isn't looking good. Wanstead tomorrow. I shall steadfastly ignore any Goldcrests, and I hope those two Firecrests have left Reservoir Wood, as my treble figure of eight loop through there might otherwise see me bump into them.

The cutting edge of birding

1415hrs, Sunday. Command Centre, Wanstead

"ring-ring"

Operator: Hello?
Agent Monkey: [heavy breathing] I need help. I'm at Alexandra Palace [cough, pant] I'm lost. I've been here half an hour, walked round loads, can't find any birders. [wheeze] There's nobody with bins at all! I've asked loads of people, nobody knows where the filter beds are. [cough cough]
O: OK, Switching to satellite view. Coming up...now.
AM: [wheeze]
O: The filter beds are in the extreme south-east of the park. Where are you now? Describe your location.
AM: [cough] I'm at the Boating Lake, near a cafe [pant pant]
O: OK, I have the Boating Lake. Can you see the sun?
AM: [pant] God I'm knackered....[wheeze]..no.... its cloudy [cough]
O: Can you see the Antenna?
AM: Yes, it's behind me. [wheeze, splutter] Hang on, I can see a road. [pant] " 'scuse me mate, what road is this?" OK, I'm on Alexandra Park Road [pant pant]
O: OK. Can you see a carpark?
AM: [wheeze] No. Aaargh, I'm totally knackered.
(off-call, Jamie: "Dad, there's one over there")
O: Walk towards the carpark and the main buildings.
AM: OK, walking there now. [wheeze, pant pant] I can see a [cough] rose-garden.
O: Does it have a round fountain in the middle?
AM: Affirmative. Roger that. [wheeze]
O: OK, I have your location. Look to your left, you'll see a road.
AM: [wheeze, cough] I think I'm dying, aaaarghhhh!
O: Hang in there Monkey. You're going to be OK, you're going to be OK.
AM: [wheeze, splutter]
O: OK, cross the road, what can you see?
AM: A pitch [cough] and [wheeze] putt [cough] course.
O: OK, there are trees beyond that. Do you see trees?
AM: Y - [cough, splutter] - es.
O: OK, go towards the trees.
AM: OK, I'm going down the hill.[wheeze]
O: Can you see a green ride through the trees?
AM: No, I'm surrounded by trees now, I can't see a thing. Aaarghhhhhh!
O: Stay with me Monkey. I'll talk you through this. Everything's going to be fine. Through the other side of the trees should be another road.
AM: [cough] I can see an "H" painted [pant pant] on the ground, about 100m ahead [wheeze, pant]
O: OK, I have it. Stand on the "H" and face the Palace.
AM: [pant, wheeze] OK, [splutter] I'm [cough cough] on the "H", I can see a cricket pitch.
O: Turn 90 degrees clockwise, to your right, you should see a long stretch of grass.
AM: [wheeze]
O: Walk over the grass, keeping the houses and back gardens on your right.
AM: [pant] OK. [cough] Doing that now. [cough, wheeze]
O: Ahead of you should be some trees or bushes. What can you see?
AM: I think I see water! [pant pant, cough] Through the trees! [wheeze], water....
O: Right. That is the reservoir and filter beds. Carry straight on. Do you know what you're looking for?
AM: [pant pant, cough cough] Oh God, aaarghh. [splutter, wheeze]
O: Your target is a large swift with a white belly and white throat patch. Let me know when you have it.
AM: OK [wheeze], I'll let [cough] you [wheeze] know. Aaargh etc.


So there you go, birding these days is easy. All it takes is a nation-wide bird-rarity information service with hundreds of dedicated subscribers all phoning in news, a car, a sat-nav, a mobile phone network, on-demand satellite imagery of the twitch location, a dedicated command centre in Wanstead, and an understanding operator, also in Wanstead. Or you could do the tiniest modicum of research before you leave home ;-)

Bring on the rarities!!

I can't help thinking that it would be very amusing if the next two weeks were to produce an unprecedented stream of rarities from continental North America. This is because tick-machine Bradders is away - in North America - and he has his phone with him. This will continue to receive all the Mega alerts, and I have no doubt that he would find it quite funny, nay hilarious, to be looking at, say, a Black-and-White Warbler, in Canada, at the same time as we all were looking at one in Cornwall. How he would chuckle! Siberian rarities (especially a Sharp-tailed Sandpiper) would also be acceptable, but would be lacking the delicious irony that only a North American bird could bring.

Of course I am just joking. Mostly. He flew out today. I did not plan this (or petition the Birding Gods), but as I type, at about 5pm, the first Mega since he took off has come up, which is pretty stunning timing as there hasn't been one for ages, not since the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater in fact (which, if I hadn't mentioned it already, I saw). It is not as gripping as it could be though, as it concerns an Audouin's Gull on Scilly, which neither he nor any of us would go for anyway. Birding Gods, mainland next please, ideally London, even more ideally north-east London. If you need a post-code, just ask.

Audouin's Gull. Sort of.

Wader season is over

Not Wanstead

As suddenly as it started, Wader Season is over. Total count of wader species over the season, zero. Today Heronry Pond water levels were back to normal, in the space of two days. I am not sure I understand the management plan. Anyhow, it sure was exciting while it lasted, seat of your pants stuff. I hope I managed to convey the enormous sense of thrill and discovery adequately.

So where is the next patch year-tick if it is not a Tringa? Well, tomorrow morning the plan is to find a Pied or Spotted Flycatcher. There seem to be have quite a few coming through lately, and I have found them before, so I reckon a few choice areas are worth a look early doors. The most likely outcome is that I will get home at 8am with diddly squat to show for my dawn start, but that would be defeatist in the extreme. Thus I will be finding a flycatcher tomorrow morning, probably in the scrub just east of Alexandra Lake. Birding Gods, take note.

Well, that is quite enough about the patch for one posting. I was recently accused of having changed, of no longer being a patch-birder, but of being a filthy twitcher. Now until very very recently it is true that I had largely abandoned the patch, as noted in a number of posts. I realise the error of my ways and will be making much more of an effort from now on. I blame June, and an acute lack of will-power. My accusers were the usual suspects: "Show-home" Harvey, "Iceland Gull" Hawkins, and "Patch-birding is my middle name" Blowmonkey. Notwithstanding that the among their number were a bunch of Great-spotted Cuckoo Twitchers, and, let it be noted, Blue-cheeked Bee-eater Dippers, I am guilty as charged, but the most recent escapade was one of planning, daring, and considerable effort, and thus almost doesn't count as twitching.

The location was Canvey Island, cultural capital of the South-east, where a juv Kentish Plover had been found in the high-tide roost off the point. The point is cut off at the height of the tide, and given that had been at about 1pm, pitching up at 7:20pm was perhaps somewhat optimistic. Low-lister Patch-birder that I am, this was a lifer for me. It is important to note here that KP is not a tick for Shaunboy or Monkey, who had twitched one, filthily, at Tilbury several years ago whilst I was presumably methodically working the patch, hoping beyond hope for any wader, let alone a scarcity. Anyhow, Bradders and I (who would have thought it?) duly pitched up and were confronted with about 20,000 square miles of tidal mudflats. If we had been lacking in confidence on the A13, we were now truly without hope, but we gave it a go anyway. The mudflats are genuinely huge, and there were no large congregations of birds. We therefore had to scan (filthily) several thousand birds scattered over miles of mudflats in the hope of picking up a small pale wader. In the course of doing this we had stacks of other stuff as well - Barwit, Grey Plover, Golden Plover, Curlew, Whimbrel, Turnstone, Redshank, Greenshank, Oystercatcher, Dunlin, Green Sandpiper, Common Sandpiper, Ringed Plover, Little Egret, various Terns and Gulls. In fact the whole place was phenomenal, a great location at that time in the evening - perfect light as well. I had spent time in the afternoon reading up on the species so knew roughly what we were looking for, but we were both on the point of acknowledging what we had suspected all along and giving up when I finally found a likely and very distant candidate. We watched it feed for a while - frenetic galloping, Sanderling-like, and then a brief tippy feeding action - at this range behaviour played as much a part as physical appearance - and DB confirmed the ID, having seen the species before. Against the odds we had succeeded and it felt like proper birding - almost, although obviously it was a twitch. A filthy one.

I didn't stand a chance of getting any photos of the bird, so here instead are some butterflies taken with my excellent and versatile 300mm macro lense. Always come equipped with the right tools for the job, that's what I say.

This is a Silver-spotted Skipper. It is a butterfly, not a bird.

This is a Painted Lady. There are apparently 999,999,998 more of them around the place

And this is a Peacock. Any of these names would have caused uncontrollable giggling last night.

Last night was Monkey's BBQ. A raucous affair it must be said, and where the aforementioned accusations occured. Excellent night, really good, and H brought his moth trap, or what was left of his moth trap, namely a lighthouse bulb bolted to a plank. Nothing fancy about this, you just plonk it down on a white sheet and away you go. The results were stunning. I catch about 2 piddly little brown micros a night and cannot ID them. Howard catches light aircraft and can ID every one of them. We had Cessna, several Learjets, and at one stage, a Gulfstream V. It was great fun as these things bounced off us, and we tried to grab them or stick collection pots on top of them to allow closer study. Tonight I am abandoning my Bonneau du Martray contraption, and just using the bulb and a sheet. We shall see.

The party continued into the small hours and several people called Paul and Monkey became very very drunk. Several litres of red wine were distributed into the grass, and there was a lot of uncontrollable giggling. I am told that this is a taster for Scilly later this autumn and that I should stay well away from them if at all possible! I for one would not be able to go out birding with the kind of hangovers they are likely to have had today. From the sound of it, it may end up being a two-dayer. Luckily I was driving, so am feeling fresh for the patch tomorrow morning. Bring on the Ficedulas.

Mega!

May 2009 has so far been stunning. Mega after mega. Crested Lark, Collared Flycatcher, Black-winged Pratincole, but all of these are eclipsed by what must be a first for Britain. Found my myself and Bradders in Norfolk on Saturday, I only managed one record shot before it was lost to view in a cloud of dust.

Monkey sp. twitcher var. driver

Other halves compare notes, and some dancing occurs

Oh dear I

I use dancing in the loosest possible sense of the the word, especially where I personally am concerned, but fortunately as the managing editor of this publication, there are no photos of me, so it didn't happen. Monkey on the other hand shed twenty years after two beers and a glass of fizz, and took the dance floor by storm. In an interesting parallel with current weather patterns, no one could have predicted the carnage that would occur, and in retrospect, we were woefully unprepared for what would happen. Gritting would not have helped - a mini-hurricane raged for the next two hours - no 80s hit was safe - and by the time it was all over several us had been sucked up in the maelstrom, whirled around, and deposited on the side of the dancefloor, exhausted. Splendid entertainment, especially for his children, for whom this may have been a bit of an eye-opener.

Fine cheesecake

Taking a step back, we were attending a wedding reception near Sheringham, and many of the East London contingent were up. Using medieval naming convention for a moment, David the Obsessed* married Suzanne the Tolerant at the weekend, thus providing us all with an excellent excuse to a) go to Norfolk, and b) have a right knees up at his expense. Winner. It was a blazing success, the newly-weds looked fantastic, and a top night was had by all.

The happy couple and providers of fine cheesecake

However, danger lingered on the horizon at all times. This was the first time that Mrs L was meeting the reprobates I go birding with, and even more potentially problematic, their significant other halves were also present, thus allowing comparisons on excessive birding to be drawn. I don't yet know whether this was used purely as an information-gathering exercise ("He never!"), a sorrowful yet accepting mutual-sympathy session, accompanied by mild head-shaking and tutting ("Yeah, 'fraid so, mine does that too, its perfectly normal, you'll get used to it..."), or whether in fact some fully-fledged anti-twitching legislation will soon be enacted in the Lethbridge household. ("Cornwall? This weekend? I take it you're joking?"). It could go either way really.

I had not met any of these long-suffering veterans of birding relationships, but knowing the guys I correctly assumed that they would all be lovely and very VERY tolerant. And alert! Dave Mo and I were chatting about cameras for birding, and he, not thinking, mentioned his future upgrade strategy within earshot of Christine. Picked him up on it straight away, very impressive. Similarly, it turned out that Monkey hadn't really mentioned Scilly '09 to someone important, but she knows now.......

Dave Mo rueing his rookie error

Jack proof-reads Howard's speech

Of course, what none of them realised was that the whole weekend was merely a ruse to do a bit of birding in Norfolk, and very nice it was too. Highlights for me were a showy Little Owl at Felbrigg Hall, some very close Treecreepers at Lynford, and no children. Yep, thats right, Mrs L & I went birding together, just the two of us. I was careful to tone it down such that it wasn't a mad dash from pager message to pager message, but rather some proper decent birding in some beautiful spots. She still got 5 ticks though (for her UK list that I keep and that she has absolutely no interest in whatsover), so she was pretty pleased as you can imagine.

Treecreeper

We took in the Great Grey Shrike at Lakenheath on the way back. Zoe (that's Mrs L) also came to realise why I am always late home from birding expeditions. I did not know this, but apparently she always adds at least an hour to whatever time I say. And that was *before* she had met the birding WAGs this weekend. My planned trip home (the details of which I shared with her as we left the coast at 3ish) encompassed Lynford Arboretum for another crack at Hawfinch, a cruise around farmland near Great Cressingham for Grey Partridge, a quick stop-off for the Great Grey Shrike, and then home for 6pm. Perfectly reasonable I thought. In the event she ruled we had no time for at least two of the three, and that I had to choose just one. Hence we only did the Shrike, and yet still arrived home at about 6pm??? How strange, something odd must have happened to the very fabric of time itself. Alternatively perhaps she was so bowled-over by the stonking close-up views of the Shrike that we spent all the time there without realising it? I have to say I don't remember her clinging on to the scope for dear life, begging for more time. My recollection is that it was more along the lines of "Right I've seen it, can we go now?"

Crippling views of a Shrike yet again

Anyway, lucky Suzanne and even luckier David are off for a weeks birding / bird photography in the Gambia, whilst the UK continues to languish in cold damp misery. Despite my meagre list, there has not really been a tick on offer since the Snowy Owl (the Emperor Penguin is still pending acceptance). Hawky has been tempted by several Green-winged Teals, but so far is resisting the urge. Roll on the Spring.

Oh dear II

H interviews unsuccessfully for Jackanory

* "Bobolink in the grass!"

A weekend in Cornwall

4am pick-up. With Paul, Shaun and myself in the back, it is somewhat snug. Bradders is driving, Bradders sr. to his left, pointing out speed cameras. Once light, somewhere in Devon I think, it is immediately apparent that Hawky is on fire. Carrots perhaps? No Buzzard goes unnoticed, and a 1 second glimpse of a dark shape over the A303 is all that is needed to nail Raven. Even though some members of the party find the Goosander a bit stringy, he is clearly seeing things very well. We continue our cuddle in the back until we finally arrive at Zennor. Upon getting out of the car and being blown over by a 60mph gust, I remark to the boys that it is perhaps a tad windy. The Snowy Owl thinks so too, and has flown off out of view to seek shelter about a mile south from the summit of Trendrine hill. As always on tough twitches it pays to scan for birders. Are they standing about not viewing a major rarity (just like us), or are they in fact “on it”? In this instance, we decide that a handful of birders a few miles away have the owl in view, so there is nothing for it but to trudge over there. The pager message did not indicate that pot-holing gear would be needed to traverse the moor, and we were fairly fortunate not to lose any party-members in the tough conditions. A helpful chap we met about halfway said that there was a 10ft stretch of path/stream where one could occasionally see the top of the owl’s head. After about another two days slogging over the terrain, we finally arrived at the said stretch, and sure enough, there it was about half a mile away. Not quite the crippling views we were all hoping for, but the risk of confusion is low, so it gets ticked. If you want to recreate the approximate experience at home, add a bucket of soil to a cold bath, stand in it for a couple of hours, and then squint at the below photo whilst constantly shaking your head from side to side to mimic the wind.

Crippling views

At one point a large cow, absent-mindedly grazing along the wall-line where the owl was sheltering, got to within about 4 feet. Cue an ears-up, “what the f*ck” bovine-moment. Despite the small line of birders intensely willing this cow onwards (and of course fully intending to flame it on bird-forum the next day) the owl won the stare-down contest and the cow(ard) retreated.

Misery

Three hours in the freezing cold has done nothing to diminish Paul’s razor-sharp eye; at Sennen he has been out of the car for roughly 0.5 seconds before he has called a GND in the bay; a speck on the horizon is a Purple Sand which duly lands on the harbour wall; a Med Gull is found bobbing with a group of BH Gulls, and barely have I got onto this when an Iceland Gull flies across his scope. Whatever he has been eating (or more likely drinking) we need to find more of it to sustain this performance. I contribute a Rock Pipit.

"Got any carrots?"

It is clear that the weather is deteriorating, so after a male Hen Harrier courtesy of Bradders jr. (Paul must have been poking Shaun or something), and a pastie stop, we head to Marazion for a spot of sand-blasting. Retreating to Penzance harbour, we meet the same birder we had met on the moor, and learn he has twitched the Owl from Luton ON PUBLIC TRANSPORT. Train to Penzance, and then a local bus to the foot of Trendrine Hill. Amazing. There are another 2 GNDs here, not remotely bothered by the vile conditions, supremely adapted to shit weather. Unlike us - we are more adapted to the pub, which is where we were now headed.

Paul: “Should I put on waterproofs?”
David: “No, its hardly raining at all”

Three inches of rain then fell in about ten minutes. Roads became rivers, drainpipes became waterfalls, steps became rapids. Unbelievable. Members of the team who had not bothered to put on waterproofs, or who had been badly advised re the need for waterproofs, got completely soaked. You could only laugh really, especially if like me you were wearing waterproofs. Luckily, the Turk’s Head has good beer, good food, and a FIRE for drying out wet people. A short but lively evening then ensued, but the general consensus was that we were all tired, and indeed despite my usual impervion to disease, I was feeling slightly under the weather, so it was not the raucous night that it might have been. Back at the B&B Shaun and I were unsure whether our room had windows or not. There appeared to be some sort of glass structure where you would expect windows to be, but the curtains flapping about horizontally raised serious doubts as to their physical reality.

The following day is breezy, but nothing like the previous night. We are drooling in anticipation of the rafts of Grey Phals we will see littering the Cornish beaches. In the event there is only one thing littering Cornwall, more on that later.

We spend the morning gently birding the sea between Newlyn and Marazion, and find stacks of GNDs, a BT Diver, a BN Grebe, and another Iceland Gull. 2 seconds out of the car at Long Rock, Paul calls a Black Redstart; none of us believe him. The Sanderlings keep me occupied for a bit, and another Med Gull flies past. A juv Cornish bird gets out of a neighbouring car with seemingly the sole intention of showing these rugged binocular-toting lads her very short skirt-cum-belt, but we give her short thrift so she gets back in and drives off; had she been able to point out a Phal we would have been all ears. Apparently only a couple of us actually noticed her at all, and are accused of blatant suppression by the others. On next to Helston for the long-staying Ring-billed Gull. As we leave, a Black Redstart pops up onto the sea wall….




The Ringer is not at Helston, but Shaun sniffs out a small sewage farm, and we are soon delighted by approximately 4000 wintering Chiffchaffs, a couple of which are outrageously pale. Discussions involving complicated and unknown words like “tristis” and “abietinus” then follow. I am just impressed that there should be this many Chiffies here in mid-Jan at all. My role is limited to the taking of photographs, some good, some bad (very bad). A Raven goes over with a BH Gull, allowing an excellent size comparison.

Candidate Sibe #1

Candidate Sibe #2

Home via Dawlish Warren, and potential Surf Scoter. Paul has been sharing his secret supply of carrots with David, who finds it in about 5 seconds. I need to go birding with these guys more often, it is sensational! Honestly there are 3 birds in 10 square miles of sea, and we’re straight on them. It could be something exclusive to Surfies though, a magnetic scope-attraction feature. When Surf Scoter was a lifer for me (I spit at them now), I went to find one off Ruddon’s Point in Fife, set up my scope, looked through it, focused, and almost fell over – drake Surf Scoter bang in the middle of the circle. This bird is a female, and is with a female Velvet Scoter, with a male Common Scoter not far away, affording good comparison. Discounting the yellow bill on the CS, we concentrate on the other two. The SS & VS are about the same size, but it is actually quite difficult to see the white flank stripe on the VS. However the bill structure is a dead giveaway, the VS has more distinct white on the head, and the SS has a habit of the raising its tail, like a Ruddy Duck. After that excellent and succinct comparative analysis, you would expect a photo. Bad luck.

A couple of common-as-muck Cattle Egrets are about 5 minutes down the road, in the company of 3 Little Egrets and a flock of fancy sheep. Again, for comparative purposes - and believe it or not they do get confused, in fact a pager message this very weekend read “Reported Cattle Egret at blah blah blah is a Little Egret” - Cattle Egret has a shortish yellow bill and pale legs, Little Egret has long black bill and dark legs. There are things that Little Egret can be confused with, but Cattle Egret is not one of them. This time there is a photo for your elucidation.

So, a top weekend in the South-west, and some brilliant birds, including a Snowy Owl’s head. I never thought I would ever see any part of a Snowy Owl, and that it was one of these mythical birds that appeared on Benbecula every now and again, and that took 2 days and several ferries and light aircraft to get to, so I am very pleased. I am genuinely ill now, so took the day off and wrote this.

A footnote: A plea to the dog-owners of Cornwall.

Fucking well clean up after your dogs. It is disgusting.

In English, this says "You may be fined if you don't clean up after your dog"

You are privileged to live in an amazingly beautiful part of the world, why spoil it? 60% of our party stepped in something, and we think less of Cornwall for it.

"Welcome to Turd County"

Double Dip Day. Damn.

I wasn't really supposed to be birding today, as I may have mentioned. As it was I managed to sneak out of the house - albeit with a baby on my back, so Mrs L probably did notice. I was resolute, I was going round the Flats, and that was it, Pendulines be damned. I had just seen a Stonechat, and one of the Reed Buntings had just zoomed over, when.... "beep beep"....

"2 PENDULINE TITS Rainham Marshes RSPB......"

Bugger.

Resolutions went out the window, and about 45 minutes later, I found myself on the boardwalk, looking at some recently vacated reeds, and being gripped off by a bunch of birders who had had:
"excellent views"
"just in front of where you are now"
"no, about two minutes before you arrived"
"yes, they just flew off high NW"
"really high, doesn't look like they'll be back for a while"
"when they did this last time they weren't seen for about two days"

Lack of avian subject matter promotes art

Back at home, Kids Corner was looming, but oh look, a Great Grey Shrike, within the LNHS area, about 8 miles away, and showing well. You can see where this is leading so I'll cut to the chase - dropped wife and kids off at this party, went off to Potter's Bar where I met Vince, dipped the Shrike, got very cold, drove back, picked up kids, wife and balloons, went home, sulked.

Oh, and about an hour in to the Shrike dip, phone goes off, and it's Blowmonkey, who has apparently been enjoying excellent views of the Snowy Owl in Cornwall. Superb he tells me, really really good. I'm looking forward to the photos.

Vince dipping a Shrike in London