The numbers game

It is the time of year when people interested in making lists of things start making new lists of things in order to occupy themselves. So whilst I have a Wanstead list, I am looking to supplement that with a couple more. Nothing as fanciful as a UK year list, no that would be folly, but maybe just a little light punishment by attempting a Canary Wharf list again. I did this once before as part of a friendly competition with James A, he birded Tower Bridge and I did CDub. It was called the Crap Patch Challenge, and I think ended up as a draw on about 40. The prize was a packet of peanuts and we met at a pub to eat them after it was all over. Turned out he didn’t really like peanuts, which was a bit of a surprise after 12 months of competing to win them, but luckily I do like peanuts and so scoffed the lot. Now James has disappeared entirely from the blogging scene and almost entirely from birding, so this might be me versus myself (unless any readers are by some miracle based in E14 too?), but I can do that – I will just try and beat whatever it was I got last time – and given the stakes I remember trying pretty hard.

I started today during a quick half hour stroll over lunch, part of an effort to become less consumed by work and actually see the light of day during these long winter months. I saw eight species: Herring Gull, Black-headed Gull, Coot, Moorhen, Crow, Pigeon, Blue Tit and Blackbird. I consider myself fortunate to have seen the Blackbird.... Part of the trouble is that lunchtime is not a great time to be looking for birds. Ideally I would be here at dawn before 100,000 office workers turn up, but then that would mean I couldn’t bird Wanstead. Choices, choices… The main problem of course is that Canary Wharf has almost no habitat. If there were birds that fed on concrete there would be loads here.

A Canary Wharf rarity

I might also start a list of birds seen at airports. This might be pretty eclectic, and given I’ve already got plans to be at numerous airports this year in some quite exciting places, perhaps something to consider. Better than looking at planes, which is unfortunately a constant temptation which I have so far mostly resisted. What is it about the urge to count things that some men have? If I get a window seat, as I frequently do, then from the moment the ground is in sight I’m scanning for birds. All the time spent in transit, if I can possibly get out of the glass cages they put you in and have a wander that’s what I’ll do. I’ve seen House Sparrow and Starling nearly everywhere….

Talking of counting things and lists of birds, although I have not chased a UK list for several years by virtue of the way I record what I have seen it is quite easy to tot up a full year. I was quite surprised when I did this for 2016, as for the first time in ages the total went up. 205 species! This is a far cry from the two consecutive years where I cleared 300, but a marked improvement on the miserable 183 seen in 2015. I’m not a scientist, but this appears to be directly correlated to the amount of time I spend birding. The more I go out, the more I see - astonishing I am sure you will agree. I remember being hugely pleased the first year I saw 200 birds in the UK, and feeling a real sense of achievement. It had required considerable effort and I just about managed to make it over the line. Last year I made almost no effort whatsoever – three rarities chased and a few days on Shetland. Maybe I need to re-evaluate the scale of my triumph in 2007? I have no idea what par is for an active birder. I mean I get 100 in Wanstead every year without too much trouble, and Wanstead gets practically no waders and even fewer seabirds. Maybe 200 is actually still pitiful if Wanstead plus a single visit to Frampton or Titchwell gets you to 160. Maybe 230-240 is a more realistic number? Whatever, it’s all irrelevant anyway as I will see whatever I see, and I refuse to go chasing stuff for the sake of it. Fundamentally numbers games are just silly, their only saving grace is that when connected with birds they do force you to spend time outdoors, which in my particular circumstances is sorely necessary.

Onwards.....

Kicking off my yearlist

It's nearly the winter solstice, so it's high time that I started thinking about my year list. Back in the summer I erroneouly reported that I was on 198. That turned out to be rooky spreadsheet error, and once sorted showed I was in fact closer to 140. I resolved that very day to start making an effort, and four months later I am on 183 with the Woodcock from yesterday. This is so unbelievably pathetic I can't begin to explain. Then again perhaps it proves I am growing up and no longer feel the need to charge around the place in search of what most normal people would call the completely pointless. That said, there should be a happy medium. Whilst there's no need to hit 300 every year, as I did two years on the trot back in 2009 and 2010, the fact I appear not to have seen Kittiwake, Guillemot or Puffin this year indicates I'm simply missing out on some basic birding experiences that are simply fabulous. How can I not have visited a UK seabird colony this summer? Raven, Merlin and Red Grouse are all missing, have I not visited the uplands this year? What about Scaup, Long-tailed Duck and Goosander? Pintail....

None in 2015. How bad is that?

These birds are but a fraction of a long and inglorious list that screams out that I've not done enough normal birding, not spent enough time in the varied habitats that this country is famous for. And that's a shame and something to contemplate with the New Year just around the corner. That's still ten days away though, and it would be relatively straightforward to get 17 species for a more respectable 200. But it wouldn't redress the balance, it would just be a whirlwind listing exercise so I'm not going to do it. I will let the sub-par score stand to remind me that I didn't do enough proper birding in 2015.

But that's just nationally. On the patch a mixture of luck and periodic dedication has seen me reach my second highest total ever. I've got one hand on the famed Golden Mallard and have had a remarkably good year with loads of good birds seen locally. I might moan a bit, but we really punch above our weight in Wanstead, with birds that would make many people envious turning up with clockwork regularity. If you spend a moment to look a Firecrest you realise it's a jewel, the likes of which are rarely seen, and stand right up there with some of the American wood warblers. The same goes for the Redstarts and spring Whinchats, utterly splendid. And don't get me started on Wheatears! 

And of course I've been fortunate to continue to travel fairly widely, which along with a little bit of apathy no doubt explains the paucity of my UK yearlist, which by the way in life terms increased by only nine this year - my first descent into single figures and probably a sign of things to come. Birding abroad is what really does it for me at the moment. That moment when I walked round a tree and came face to face with a Varied Thrush was one of the best birding moments I can remember. Swakane Canyon, filled with Bullock's Orioles and Lazuli Buntings an absolute delight. The UAE was superb, and as for the Gulf Coast beaches in Florida, well they were a photographer's dream.

So, 2016, what's the plan? Well more of the same I think, variety is what I need to sustain myself, albeit with more of what the UK has to offer. 2015 was the first year I've not been to Shetland for instance - it's already booked for next autumn. But where will I spend the first of January? On the patch? Out on the Essex marshes? The fishing boats at Dungeness? (joke...) Scotland? I have not yet decided. But I am going to see a lot more.

Missing in Action

I've just spent a few hours getting my bird recording spreadsheet ready for 2014. If there's a way to have more fun on your own, I've yet to discover it. During this extravaganza I found out three things.

Firstly, that a spreadsheet has to be one of the least efficient ways of storing bird sightings. To be fair I think I knew this already. It now has seven years of information, has 48 tabs, has millions of formulas, and is 22 Megabytes in size. In many ways it is a thing of a beauty, as it can quickly tell me that I've seen 27 Pied Flycatchers in that period, of which seven have been in London, and five of those in Wanstead. Genius, no? Getting the formulas to actually do that is just not funny at all though, and it gets even more complicated when I try and get it to add up patch year lists, and as I only do it once a year I've completely forgotten how it works by the time it comes round again. I'm think I'm done now, but it is so, so painful.

Secondly, and connected to the above, that I'd seen a Smew in 2013, but that I had neglected to add it my year list due to a broken formula. Pfffff. Once repaired, this bumps me up to a massive 260 species. This isn't significant at all, but the previous total of 259 had also been my 2012 total (Yes, I checked all those formulas too.....), which means I saw more birds last year than the year before. Which means, dear reader, that I am on an upward trajectory! Yes! My year lists have been getting smaller year after year, as my desire to relentlessly chase down birds like Lapland Buntings has waned and basically died. Using the power of mathematics, I had predicted seeing 236.5 birds last year (the Semipalmated Plover was the half....), and when I got that wrong and ended up on exactly the same as last year, the best I could say was that at least it hadn't gone up. And now I can't even say that! The bird that broke the downward spiral was a Cirl Bunting in Devon. I should have closed my eyes.

Thirdly, and finally, I discovered that I hadn't seen an Osprey in 2013, nor a Goshawk. Neither did I see Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, once a Wanstead stalwart - a sad story that. In fact who needs the BTO Atlas, all you need is my spreadsheet. Wholly absent were Willow Tit, Shorelark, Wood Warbler, Tree Sparrow and Turtle Dove. Somehow I went an entire year without seeing any of them. Perhaps I'm not looking hard enough, but I think we all know that's not why, and that's a real shame. And no Ruddy Duck either, it's as if somebody has been round and shot them all or something.

Is Wanstead actually the Brecks, and what happened to the big one?

Think about it for a minute. We get oodles of Redstart, regular Tree Pipits, bi-annual Stone-Curlew, and millions of Goshawks - Wanstead must be part of the Brecks. Bradders Birding Tours was running it's annual Breckland tour in search of year ticks, er sorry, I mean birds that the tour leader doesn't see very many of. That's because he doesn't live in Wanstead, where such birds are nothing out of the ordinary. Tree Pipit? Had a couple already. Stone-curlew? Whatever. Redstarts? Only about six. So far. I got a couple of year ticks admittedly, as did Nick, for instance a smart Red-footed Falcon and Very Short-billed Duck, but essentially it was same old same old, but in a different context. Such is the life of a dedicated patchworker in urban London; there are no surprises anymore. It's one of the reasons I love Scotland, as I rarely see Pine Grosbeaks and Harlequins in Wanstead.

After stitching Nick up with a heard-only Golden Pheasant lifer, we stopped off at Thetford for the Otters, one of which showed amazingly, but not quite in the desired location. Instead I spent some time with a new species of Duck I'd not come across before, namely the aforementioned Very Short-billed Duck. If you're eating, or have small children on your lap, I suggest you look away now, as despite being a mega rarity it's not what you might call a looker. Otters are pretty cute and cuddly though aren't they?

Dabbling is going to be problematic. The sooner the Otter finishes the job the better.

A quick diversion to Lakenheath for a Red-footed Falcon was very pleasant in a shirt sleeves kind of way, and before long we were into proper Wanstead, sorry, Breckland birding. A singing Tree Pipit, a few Stone-curlews, a handful of Redstarts and the odd Woodlark. If you don't have time to put in the hours in Wanstead, it has to be said that a quick spin round the Brecks can be nearly as good at the right time of year, and we were able to show Bradders all of our specialities in pretty short order whilst wandering around in the sunshine in a calm and relaxed manner.

On the whole though, it was far quieter than I was hoping it was going to be. The "big one" was notable for it's absence. A scattering of Purple Herons, a few Red-foots, a Black-winged Stilt. Nice spring overshoots for sure, but not the monster that a Bank Holiday weekend could have been capable of. Should have been capable of. So I've done what all dedicated listers do, and sat around in the sunshine either in the garden at home. This gained me, in total, six Buzzards, two Kestrels, three Sparrowhawks, upwards of twenty Swifts, and my first two Wanstead Hobbies.

Basically the weekend has been all about Wanstead, in many ways just as it should be. I finished the weekend at Wanstead Cricket Club, having a beer in the sunshine. My eldest has been keen on cricket for some time now, but for the first time my daughters went along as well. It's early days, but they play so much in the garden (forced into it I suspect) that they seemed quite keen to go and do it for real. I'm well aware that it has been some time since I mentioned the kids on this blog, and that it's all become worrying one dimensional, i.e. moaning about stuff plus the odd photo, so it's good to get back to basics. Almost unbelievably they're now nine, seven and five. Where did it go? Anyway, I am still a doting (if strict, grumpy and shouty) father, and today I spent a happy few hours in the sunshine watching the kids run about and have fun. I could have pissed off to Maldon to get Black-winged Stilt on my Essex list, but sometimes, just sometimes, other things take precedence. The fact that I was well over the limit is neither here nor there. Anyhow, here's a few fresh off the memory card to show that I still have them.

Pudding, five

Pie, seven

Muffin, nine

Filthy Yearlisting and Twitching

But not by me!! Hah! Everyone I know seems to be twitching or year-listing. Take the Mo, as fervent an anti-twitcher as you would ever meet - he didn't even get his arse down to Dungeness for the Oriental Pratincole. But where was he last week? Tear-arsing round Essex in search of filthy ticks, that's where. Yep, Glossy Ibis and Red-breasted Goose ticking. Every time I see him he goes off on one about how all his mates are wrong in the head, chasing round the country for birds, and what does he go and do? He's just blogged about Black-tailed Godwits in London, but don't let that fool you, he's hardly ever in London - most of his Peregrine shots are taken in Wales probably. Filth.

Moving on, who should we find nutty year-listing? Me? I don't think so! I would never be so silly. Nope, it's Hawky, that's who. The two years that I saw over 300, at this exact date I was on 147 & 148. Filthy Hawkins? 152. Yes, you read that right. 152. Unbelievable. Again, another person who professes sensibleness and the virtues of local patching. He came over today to year-tick the Wanstead Firecrests. Next stop the Girling for Black-necked Grebe, and then to Connaught Water where I helped him pick out some male Mandarins - tricky little blighters. Not content with all these ticks it was back to Wanstead for Ring-necked Parakeet and a shot at Lesser Spot. We failed on that, but the Parakeets were a walk in the park. Literally. Filth.

Normally (or perhaps not), Nick would be found walking in the Park. But not today. As dedicated a patch-worker as you will find, there was no sign of him, no gripping messages about Lapwings, no counts of Redwing. Instead a series of garbled messages about trains, small Geese and Norfolk. Two weeks ago Hampshire. Last weekend, Dorset. This weekend, Norfolk, in search of the Lesser White-front before it buggers off back to Pensthorpe. He's reached 150 with a Purple Sandpiper in Lowestoft! Filth.

In addition to a Lesser White-fronted Goose, Bradders could also have been found at Buckenham. In contrast to the three miscreants above, this is perfectly normal. Finding him outside of Norfolk is probably more unusual. He professes to be visiting family, and pretends (every year) that he isn't year-listing. Desperate. Hot news from Norfolk is that he's on 149, a real laggard. If he reads this tonight I expect it will motivate him to be out at dawn tomorrow. At Helston probably.

As far as I can tell, the only person I know who has stayed true is Shaun, who birds the Ingrebourne Valley, as his title picture hopefully makes clear. He's been dipping the pair of White-fronted Geese that have been there. And me. Where was I? Wanstead of course, seeking patch ticks to get that Golden Mallard winging its way to the big smoke. It didn't happen, but I did jam another Kingfisher briefly, and whilst I had my camera pointing vaguely in the right direction as well, always pleasing. Highlights were that, and a high count of Pochard on Heronry, a staggering 54 birds. Oh, and an honourable mention to the carrot cake from the tea shop of happiness, which showed well, if extremely briefly.

My year-list? 136. Comfortably lower than anyone else I know.

Seeing lots of birds in Norfolk

It has more or less become traditional to bird the patch on January the first, and then have a big day out somewhere on January 2^nd. Last year we went to Norfolk for the day, the year before that, Essex. Looking at a map of “where good birds are at” made it an easy choice yesterday, especially as one of our number needed the Western Sandpiper that is still hanging around at Cley.

I was out waiting on the pavement at 6am sharp, and the boys (Bradders, Monkey, and Hawky) arrived a short while later. En route, the ever sharp-eyed Hawky bagged Barn Owl and Woodcock to ensure the day-list (and the year list) got off to a flying start. Our first stop Fakenham for the interestingly-pale Great Grey Shrike. None of us were quite ready for the intense cold in North Norfolk, especially after the mildest start to January since 1821 which saw me severely over-dressed for my big day in Wanstead. I severely under-compensated and was thus almost immediately freezing, and the Shrike was not an early-riser. Whilst waiting, a load of year ticks made themselves known, including two coveys of Grey Partridge, a species I had failed to see last year. Eventually the Shrike deigned to wake up and gave excellent and prolonged views until we could stand the cold no longer and retreated to the warmth of the car, which with Paul, Monkey and especially me in it, was extremely cosy.

Definitely a very pale bird, not as washed-out as in Steppe, but you can see why people wondered about Homeyeri. I know nothing about such things, but I understand the wing formula, in particular the configuration of the white panel, is wrong for this sub-species. I thought I heard it mutter “doh!” a couple of times, but I don’t know enough about the vocalisations to know if this is diagnostic. None of this matters one jot of course, it is a Shrike, and can be enjoyed regardless. A local who had seen the bird a few times told us it had a larder in the middle of the hedge, but you couldn’t tell where it was; had we known we could have scoped it for evidence of doughnuts....

So, with two birds under the belt that I hadn’t seen in 2011, we carried on to Cley for the Western Sand, which showed immediately, though much further away than last month, which was a shame as it meant I couldn’t get any colour on it all. It still reminded me of a small Dunlin though, in the same way that Semi-Ps don’t. Next stop Salthouse, the target being coffee from the man with the miniature coffee van who can regularly be found at the beach carpark and makes excellent and extremely reasonably-priced coffee – Starbucks take note – a superb coffee in fantastic surroundings for £1.25. As I waited for the brewing process to complete, and looked longingly at the box of biscuits, a shout came from the beach  - “Glauc!” Hawky, as is seemingly normal, had done it again. Coffee in hand, he had wandered up the shingle bank and the first bird he had clapped eyes on was a first winter Glaucous Gull flying past. We all scrambled up the slope to make sure we got on this “beauty” before it disappeared out of sight, but happily it landed on the sea, caught a seal, and then came and sat on the beach to eat it. Other punters weren’t so lucky – we had phoned the news out straight away, and this being North Norfolk in early January, birders began to arrive thick and fast, but not fast enough. The gull polished off the seal in under five minutes and then continued its journey east, I think we were the only people to see it, which was a shame.

Pleased with this, as well as a bonus Snow Bunting we had kicked up on the shingle whilst trying to get closer to the gull, we turned back west towards Wells. A quick scan of the Brent flock on the pitch and putt course bagged one of the Black Brants as well as a Pale-bellied, and following up news of a Rough-legged Buzzard in the Holkham area, we were not surprised to pick it up from the car. A convenient layby appeared and we all rapidly bailed out (to the extent really fat people can get out of vehicles quickly). It was a partically leucistic bird, with extremely pale upperparts, and for a while I remained unconvinced that it wasn’t a funny Common Buzzard, but luckily the tail pattern was seen. Rough-leg was another species I hadn’t seen in 2011, annoyingly racked-up only a few days after it’s all over. Shows quite how bizarre year-listing is, or more accurately, how bizarre not year-listing is. Had I been year-listing, presumably I would have made sure to be in Norfolk a few days earlier...

The real target of the day, for me at least, was the Coue’s Arctic Redpoll at Titchwell. I had never seen this sub-species, or maybe that’s “variation on the Redpoll scale”. The initial signs were not good, cars parked all the way along the entrance track, and barely any room in the carpark. It was clearly going to be one of those afternoons. The usual comedy of watching a tricky bird with masses of other people at Titchwell ensued, but I got superb scope views of the bird as it fed with both Mealy (or what I’d call a Mealy at any rate), and a bunch of standard Lessers. The bird on Shetland in 2011 had initially been called as a Coue’s, and on first impression, I’d say that that bird looked whiter, but Redpolls are a lesson in the need for close (very close!) observation and attention to detail - as multiple previous failings have taught me - and gradually I built up a picture of the bird at Titchwell which I am pretty happy with. It might not be a tick, and indeed Redpolls could go the other way and lose me a tick or two, but it was a great bird. Needless to say, I hadn’t seen Arctic Redpoll in 2011.....

Buoyed by this success, I decided to leave the masses and walk down to the beach. There was, however, no avoiding the masses – I have never seen the place so busy. The need for year-tickage dominated though, so we stuck it out ‘til the bitter end, ‘til we had scooped up all available new birds, including two Scaup, yet another 2011 miss. What on earth was happening – that was the fifth bird I hadn’t seen in 2011, scooped up with no hassle whatsoever. The sea held two Whooper Swans, clearly also fed up with the number of people, not including us, on the reserve, a single Velvet Scoter, and perhaps a thousand Common Scoter about a mile out to sea all flying round in a huge circle, literally a ring. Any ideas why, as I have never seen anything like it. Maybe they're all feeling a bit fat from just bobbing about on the sea, and so this is their version of the January exercise regime.

We finished up at Flitcham, where I am happy to report that I dipped Little Owl. That really would have taken the biscuit, but the trees were empty. Instead we jammed a ringtail Hen Harrier, before heading back to London on 90 species. I’m not year-listing – I never do – but my records tell me that this is my best start ever. Not to worry though, I have high hopes of fading fast.

The 2011 Year List that I didn't do

Regular readers will know I bang on about year-listing quite a lot. This year however I didn't bang on about it quite as much. Shocking though it may sound, I didn't do one. No, really. The year I really did one was 2009. It was fun at the beginning, awful close to the end, and then quite fun again at the very end. The angst of dipping my eighth-seventh Wryneck, not to mention the absurdity of the price of fuel, convinced me that it would be foolish to do another one, so in 2010 I took it nice and easy, and it was only when I returned from a monumental week on Shetland that I changed my mind, and drove some pointless miles to see birds I'd seen plenty of before. Three hundred, that magical number in the UK year-listing stakes, certificate-worthy no less (no, I didn't), fell just over two frenetic weeks later, and I breathed a long sigh of hypocrital relief. Then I went to Cornwall. And then Devon. And then Manchester....

This year, I was determined that there would be none of this stupidity, none of this weakness. As such, I started out with no goals, no predetermined targets. I will see what I see, I said. My love-hate relationship with twitching also started off at a new low, though a Lesser White-fronted Goose on Jan 2nd tells another story. Largely I have stuck true to my word, though why I deemed a trip to Landguard for a Short-toed Treecreeper necessary I really have no idea - the one trip, which despite the tick, I still feel embarrassed about. Rubbish, and then some. As the year progressed, I became progressively more twitchy, which culminated in not one but two trips to Scilly, finally paying me back for an entire week in 2009 where all I saw was a crappy Radde's Warbler.

I have of course, despite any protestations to the contrary, been keeping a year list all along. Well, not keeping one as such, but at any point in the year I could have told you how many. Does that count as not keeping one? I think it does. Anyhow, I reckon the year's birding is basically done, and so I am proud (er, maybe) to be able to announce that my 2011 year list is on a whopping 271. This strikes me as quite a lot, particularly given my stated intentions, for it puts my just outside the top ten on Bubo, and if you look at what I have not seen, I suspect I could very easily sneak in. I won't of course, I can't be bothered, but it does show that if you twitch a few things, and it doesn't have to be very many, your incidental count of birds will be surprisingly high.

I twitched about twenty birds this year, and dipped just one - an extremely uncooperative (though previously highly cooperative) Great Snipe at Cley. By the time I got there, it was bored of all the tape recordings and had buggered off to the far side of the marsh, where it remained until after I left. Such is life, but on the whole my approach to twitching is so tempered in sensibleness that I very rarely dip. This is great, as dipping sucks. It means I'll never have the enormous list that those who drop everything at the slightest hint of a possible have, but it ensures an almost one hundred percent happy outcome.

So, 271 birds, and very nice they were too. More interesting is what I didn't see. Birds you would think would be absolute gimmes that any birder worth his salt would see at least once a year. Here is the roll of shame.

Black-throated Diver, Little Auk, Long-eared Owl, Bewick's Swan, Scaup, Grey Partridge, Turtle Dove, Little Owl, Dipper, Willow Tit, Water Pipit.



MISSING

I mean how can you bird for an entire year and not see a Little Owl? Pfffff. There are oodles of them about. Wanstead is bracketed by them, with regular birds in Walthamstow and in the Ingrebourne Valley. Somehow I've managed to avoid seeing one all year, I'm not sure how. And I could go and see a Water Pipit tomorrow in all likelihood, less than 15 miles from home, but I just can't drum up the enthusiasm. Oh well. That little lot would have seen me clear 280. I've also not done my traditional dash around Scotland, so no Ptarmigan, Caper, Black Grouse, or Crested Tit. Also no Eagles. Approaching 290. Add in the Hoopoes, Rose-coloured Starlings and Wrynecks (!) of this world, things like Rough-legged Buzzard and Red-necked Grebe, Corncrake and Quail, and you're on the cusp of 300 yet again. There isn't really a great deal of difference between a normal year list, and a perceived big year list. I wonder what all the fuss is about?

What I didn't write

In my haste to bash out yet another ill-conceived and boring blog post yesterday, I forgot a critical, nay crucial piece of information. It was about that Brambling. It was a year tick! A patch year-tick I mean, I don't go in for all this national year-listing nonsense. Never have, never will. So yes, a patch year-tick, coming in at a rather splendid 110. This a whole two more than last year - a year I thought would never be broken, which, now I come to think of it, is probably exactly what I said the year before that. No matter. I am pleased, which, when it comes to patch-working, is the entire point. You'd have to be pretty stupid to wander round an inland patch year after year whilst hating every minute of it.

Yes it would be nice to have a coastal patch, yes it would be nice to have a patch capable of producing a right stonker, but then things like Dunlin would lose their appeal, and we can't be having that. There's an argument that suggests that at a coastal patch the bar is simply higher, and that's true of course, but ultimately there would be far fewer birds with that "wow" factor that is so important in patch-birding and keeps us all going. "Oystercatcher, whatever" is not something you'll hear uttered in Wanstead anytime soon.

So what's new? Nothing. All work and no tidying makes Jonathan a dull boy. With the absence of the Magic Fairy, who true to her word departed for pastures new about a month ago, Chateau L is gradually falling apart. Mount Garment grows ever higher, and items now largely lie where they fall. Weekends, so useful for staying more-or-less afloat, are dedicated to having fun rather than domestic trivialities, and so slowly but surely we're descending to a new level of slovenliness. I may or may not engage a cleaner, we'll see how bad it gets before I crack. However if you're local, and bored (really bored), do pop round. The hoover is in the cupboard under the stairs, the dusters are under the sink. Marigolds are provided.

On the plus side, and coinciding nicely with my return to banking hell, my writing career is really taking off. Forget Birdwatch, I have now penned a piece in the nationally-distributed and globally-read Wanstead Village Directory. Any misconceptions you may have about this publication being merely a vehicle for local businesses to advertise their services should be totally banished. Any thoughts that over 95% of the pages relate to hairdressing, kitchen design and local restaurants should be similarly cast aside. It's only 90%, and so this month there is room for an article on Ducks. Yes, Ducks. I am fed up of seeing people point at Tufted Ducks and Pochards and call them Ducks. Or worse, Mallards. So when polled by this august institution for a future article on wildlife in a winter issue, I thought "Right, let's sort it out once and for all, and get people involved in Ducks", or words to that effect. The lavishly-illustrated result is now in quality newsagents everywhere, or you can pick one up in the Co-Op on the high street. Or, as Muffin did today, at the community centre where Ballet takes place, where he then proceeded to wave it in the faces of a few of my fellow Mums [sic] so now they all know what a sad bird-nerd loser I am, which obviously I had been trying to conceal. Excellent. Anyway, now that the secret is out, if you're too late in the mad scramble for printed copies, you can see it online here. Note the huge amount of reaction and comment....

Filling my Boots

Just got in from a great day out, and I need to breathlessly tell you all about it. Except I'm too tired as I woke up at 5:30am, and have driven 360 miles whilst birding twitching in three counties, and now need to go sleep again as I have a lot to do tomorrow, starting with taking not three but five children to school.

Seven-striped Sprite. Mmmm mmmm.

In summary, I saw a lot of good birds, but the distances between them were not small. There were ticks of many kinds. A Booted Warbler at Landguard was an ever, anywhere tick. A Glossy Ibis and Pallas's Warbler in Essex were Essex ticks (obviously). Of these three birds, two were year ticks for the list I'm not keeping this year, as was a stunning adult Isabelline Shrike in Kent. Always go see Shrikes. At the moment I am more often than not sticking to this rule and it is proving extremely worthwhile.

The Booted Warbler was not obvious, even when showing extremely well. Many on site, no doubt desperate for it to be a Sykes's, were talking it into one. I never thought so, mainly because Booted was the one I needed. Need, who am I kidding? What a stupid use of the word need, birding terminology is rubbish sometimes. Anyway, the one I hadn't seen. Tertials this, primaries that. Nonsense. The bird was beigy-brown, which made it a Booted. The Sykes's I saw on Shetland was grey. Easy. I taught Nils all he knows.

In which I apologise for a flurry of needless year-ticks.

I need to apologise for seeing too many birds. Sorry. I didn't mean to, honest. It kind of just happened. I blogged what seems like only recently about only having seen 121 species. The new number is quite a few more than that, a disappointingly whopping 145. People more tragic than I would be able to tell you exactly what they were on last year at the same point, but obviously I have no idea at all. By the way, on a totally different subject, Muffin's homework over the holidays is to add 49 to 145. Pathetic isn't it? Would have thought the school would have set more for such a long break, but there you go.

Anyway, back to the year-listing that I'm not doing. I took the kids to see a Night Heron in Essex during the week; they needed it for their lists, just like they needed the Woodchat Shrike (which got eaten by a Sparrowhawk by the way). We found the bird no problem, and watched it for about half an hour, taking turns with the scope. During that time, the bird did absolutely nothing, and my childrens' lasting impression of Night Heron will be of a bird sat in a tree with no head. So, a year-tick, but one I think I have successfully argued away, oh, and I might have needed it for Essex as well. Unfortunately we heard both Gropper and Nightingale on the walk back, so two gratuitious and unneccessary ticks to add to the list.



Today, in a break with tradition, I twitched the Black Stork in the New Forest. I have been told several times in the past that the only way to see a Black Stork is to be in its path as it flies down a coast, or to be at a pin-pointed roost site before dawn. This was the latter, so filthy Hawkins and I were on the road at 3am, arriving at the appointed tree at about 5am. Unfortunately we got the wrong tree, and didn't find the right one (and then only with help from Lee Evans who had been there the previous evening) until about two hours after first light. Black Storks apparently get up about ten minutes before first light, so it was no surprise that the tree was empty. Luckily for us the bird was in the plantation right next to the roost site, as once these birds go, they really go, and for a huge bird they are remarkably elusive. Here is an ultra-pro photograph of it in flight.

A £10,000 usage fee applies for this shot.

So, all very nice, played for and got and so on, but rather unfortunately the New Forest is rather rich in birdlife, and we were treated to several male Redstarts, Tree Pipits, Woodlarks, Crossbills, Cuckoos and Goshawks over the course of the morning, and as if that were not enough, once back home I found a Lesser Whitethroat. Oops.

A short word on not year-listing

Can I just say that I am amazing. A-ma-zing. The self-control being exercised in the environs of Wanstead is frankly sensational. For the benefit of all you non-believers out there I added up my yearlist yesterday and it's 121, the latest bird being a Blackcap. OK, so the Short-toed Treecreeper was fairly gratuitous, but seriously, 121? That's amazing - amazingly frugal.

By way of comparison, last year, when I wasn't year-listing, #121 was a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker on January 12th. January 12th!!! The year before that, when I was year-listing, #121 was a Snow Bunting. On January 4th!!!!!! January 4th?! I must have been out. of. my. mind. Were I to add this year's list to Bubo, I would barely be in the top 100. That, ladies and gentlemen, is restraint. Supreme restraint.

I'm doing less well on the twitching. I've cracked on almost every bird, though I have only gone grudgingly, and then only well after news has broken and I am assured of relative calm and tranquility. I left the Lesser White-fronted Goose several months, the Slaty-backed Gull and Oriental Turtle Dove several weeks, and the Short-toed Treecreeper several, er, hours. In my defence, it was at least the next day. I admit to feeling pretty smug as I stood in that bloke's kitchen in Chipping Norton looking at the Dove twenty minutes after I arrived, recalling that I declined a lift the day after news broke, and thus avoided standing for seven hours in a queue of seven hundred identically dressed dippers. But the fact remains that I have seen almost every tick going, the exception being far-flung Gyrs, and a Pacific Diver in Cornwall. Not sure what to say, except that they have all been on my terms, a small victory perhaps.

Following the Birdwatch article about relaxed birding, the standard greeting when I bowl up somwhere is "Oh, I thought you weren't twitching anymore?"  I still feel weak, but I never said I wouldn't twitch, I just said I'd be more selective, and that whatever I did had to be enjoyable. Hence no Pacific Diver, which although it would have been a shoe-in, was simply too far away - too much time in the car to see a speck floating off Marazion that might have a chin-strap. The Treecreeper, whilst admittedly dull as ditchwater, only took an hour to get to, showed well enough to actually spot field marks, and then we got to spend some quality time on the beach in the sunshine. Anyway, didn't your parents or teachers at school tell you never to believe anything you read in the press?

Here, have a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, we've got loads.

Flocking in Essex

Flock flock flock flock flock. Every January I try and make a winter visit to the Essex coast for some winter birding. Last year I went at the beginning of the month, where if you remember I knelt in a turd. No such poor luck today, but the birds were equally good. Once again Bradders took his rally car, and our chief scarecrow-spotter Hawky made up the team. Today was all about flocks.



Started on the Blackwater estuary, where we could find no interesting Grebes or Divers, but a flock of over two hundred Golden Plover were extremely nice, and the sound of their wings as they flew in tight formation was pretty damn cool. Heaps of Brents here too, and some flocks of Goldeneye in mid-channel.

A quick stop at Braxted Park where the regular flock of Hawfinches were seen, or at least some of them - we counted ten in the tall trees just within the golf course. A great bird to see, and an Essex tick for me, but a real shame they are so scarce. Our next flocks were near the Strood, at the causeway across [to] Mersea. Masses of Dunlin on the falling tide, but best of all a wintering flock of Lapland Buntings in a weedy field. We counted around 30 birds, and bins etc were unnecessary as the flock wheeled around overhead giving the classic "peew" and "brrrrrrrrr" calls. Easily the largest number I've ever seen together, including Shetland, and another Essex tick. I was on fire!



We tried the estuary from Mersea for Divers again, but all I could do was string a Cormorant until Bradders noticed. Boring!  We gave up on the sea and headed to Abberton, where we encountered eight distant Smew, but much nearer six each of Tundra Bean and Pink-footed Geese. I can never recall either seeing birds this close, or seeing them swimming on the water, and I can only think of one time when I've seen them together, so this was very instructive. In a nutshell, Brown and Orange vs Silver and Pink. Goose identification, done.



A distant Ringtail Hen Harrier at the same site was a bonus Essex Tick, and we also twitched a burger van with notable success. Meanwhile I missed a Goosander on the Perch Pond back in Wanstead which was a bit gripping, but I did have an unlikely drake flying across the Flats a couple of years ago so I am not too gutted, and I can spend tomorrow looking for it.

A quick note on not year listing

Going really really well. I'm on 111, which I'd reached by 3rd of January in both 2009 and 2010. So far then, this is easily my worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) performance in recent years. I have not caved into adding it onto Bubo, which might induce competitive urges, and I only added it up for the purposes of this post (after having read the one I linked to above, and got curious). So far, so good.

All Done!

All done. 300th bird in the bag yesterday. All done, no more hooning it round the country, I'm staying local from now on. American Bittern?! Where, where!!?

I've been resisting the Glossy Ibis at Welney all week, as yesterday I had plans to go to Cambridge with the kids anyway, there to leave them with Grandma for the afternoon. As it happened, by 10am there was no news on the Ibis, just my luck that it appeared to have gone. However there was news on two Grey Phalaropes and an American Golden Plover at Cley. Both filthy year ticks. I felt I probably had the time.....

Predictably as soon as I was committed to the North Norfolk coast route, positive news on the Ibis came out......Not to worry, get it on the way back, I was sure I'd still have the time. I'd MAKE the time!

Got to Cley with no fuss, payed my subs (in case you were wondering), and started looking for the Plover. Loads of European Goldies, but I could not pick out the AGP. Being strong of will and sound of mind, I gave up and trekked out to north hide for the Phalaropes. The first thing I saw when I entered the hide was a West Ham hat. The hat turned round, and it was Marco, a familiar site from Wanstead Flats. What were the chances? Had I known.... Anyway, we had a bit of a chat whilst I looked at the Phals (#298) - the two feeding together in the same scope view - and then I went off for a second crack at the Plover.

I gave it another hour or so, possibly not even that long, at which point the entire flock got up and flew west. If the past few days were anything to go by, they were off to feed on the freshly-exposed mud in Blakeney harbour, so naturally I followed them. I was about to sling the car in the harbour carpark when I noticed that a man wanted £3 from me. To park my car in a puddle. I found alternate (yet considerate) parking.

Tell you what, if you did a days birding on the North Norfolk coast and birded all the traditional sites, and paid for parking everywhere you went, you'd end up with very little change out of a twenty. Cley Coastguards, Blakeney, Lady Anne's Drive, and worst of all, Wells Woods - rip-off merchants the bloody lot of them. I hate paying for parking. I'd pay 50p, or perhaps even £1, but when every single place wants £3 or more, well they can take a collective hike. Thieves.




Pleased with my success at avoiding funding whoever owns the carpark, I trotted out along the beach path. I soon found the flock of Goldies, stretched out in a long line along the mud, and started scanning from one end. Fifth bird in I found it. I kid you not, it took perhaps thirty seconds. I wasn't entirely sure, my experience of this species being one adult in Kent a couple of years ago, so I kept on it and compared other nearby Plovers, Grey and Golden. Continued grilling convinced me I had struck gold, so to speak, but once some other birders turned up I still sought a second opinion. Happily I was right. Better than looking like a muppet I always think, of which I have extensive experience. #299.

Next stop Welney. Not a lot to say really. I had looked up the spot on the satellite view, so stopped by the exact field and there it was. Bins not even needed. Twitching isn't really overly skillful is it? I know that diminishes my achievement - if indeed you can call it that - of seeing 300 birds in a year, but I'm afraid it's true. Twitching is basically being able to read a map, and drive somewhere.



Whilst I was getting my fill of Ibis, a man in a truck pulled up and cast his critical eye over the field. At first I though he was an interested passer-by, but when he said "I'm here to pick up that dead cow." I realised that probably wasn't the case. "What dead cow?" I replied? "That black and white one!" he indicated. I had been bird-watching rather than cow-watching, but he did have a point, it wasn't looking too great. How exciting, a dead cow! We could watch, morbidly fascinated, as he somehow winched it into his truck! Gosh, isn't twitching fun! Where, I wondered, would he attach the rope? I scoped up the cow, looking for holes, hooks etc.

It was breathing.

Dead cows don't normally breathe do they? No, thought not. Much as it would have been hugely funny to watch the man drive his truck up to a perfectly alive cow, attempt to winch it into a truck, and then jump back in considerable surprise as it sprung up and attempted to gore him or something, I felt it was best to tell him.

"Er, it's not dead."
"Eh?"
"That cow, it's not dead, it's breathing."
"No, it's dead."

I invited him to look in my scope, at which point it raised its head and had a bit of a look about.

"Ah, so it is. Must have the wrong field."

So he got into his truck and drove off, the cow went back to sleep, and we continued looking at the Ibis. Anyway, any Ibis twitchers that saw the bird today have me to thank, as I prevented it being flushed by a man in a truck driving round the field and molesting sleeping cows until he chanced upon one a dead one.

So, #300. Hurrah! No more twitching for me! See you in Cornwall! Er, I mean, have a nice time in Cornwall, losers!!

Filth

After a disappointing morning in Wanstead yesterday, the opportunity to get closer to the magic* number proved too strong to resist, so I went to Suffolk with a few of the boys. Little did I know this would cost me a Waxwing on the patch, Long Wood coming up trumps again, but nevermind. I am fairly sanguine about it actually, whereas I thought I would be spitting. Much as I love the patch, the experience of birding on the coast at this time of year is hard to beat, and combined with the inevitable banter, we had a rather fun day.


First up we gave DB another chance at the oh-so-dull Red-flanked Bluetail in Lowestoft, which we duly bagged not too long after arriving. I remember my first one a couple of years ago, and the elation of connecting with this cryptic mega. Even then it was rapidly declining in rarity status, but to get one at the first attempt, on Muckleburgh hill in Norfolk, well, wow. Yet another bird I thought I would never see, and although this year seems to have broken all records, the day I tire of Bluetails will be the day I sell my binoculars.

ISO 2000. Awesome.

After a long stake out for distant views of a Rough-legged Buzzard near Reydon, we then decided that the best thing to do would be to walk several miles on horrible shingle for an incredibly rare American vagrant. Errr, did I say American and vagrant? I meant Shore and Lark. Leaving it late to get a Shore Lark, I felt I had to go. Last year, Shore Lark was bird #310, this year it's #297. This is not an interesting fact (no, really), but shows fairly clearly that they're not easy birds to connect with. Although ten had been reported, I could only find three - two more than I needed, but they're smart birds and I'm happy to see lots of them.

This coming week is half term, so I'm at home with the kids. As such you should expect many more photos of them rather than of birds. Although I will attempt to avoid it, cleaning may also feature. The house is horribly dirty, as most domestic jobs simply got ignored during the excitement of October, and I need to forget birds for a while and just knuckle down to it. I started this evening on the shower, and to my horror, the Pink Brush of Unhappiness appears top be on the way out. Disaster!

Overuse.....

Shaun and Paul think they can hide behind a car and thus escape my trigger finger.

Yawning and Year-listing

Another day, another Red-flanked Bluetail. Officially now the bird UK birders least want to see. Secretly the finders are hoping for Robins, but no, another sodding Bluetail. Bedgrudgingly, and knowing they are going to be made fun of by their peers, they put the news out....

Half a day in Suffolk today with Bradders, following another morning dipping Bluethroat at Rainham. Continued this fine form by dipping Ferruginous Duck at Lackford, but managed some excellent if brief views of the Bluetail at Lowestoft. The experience did not compare with that of ten days ago at Geosetter. There, the bird was in full view most of the time, and came within fifteen feet of the few observers present. At Lowestoft the cover was incredibly dense, and viewing was extrememly difficult. Despite their newfound common-as-muck status, the bird today attracted upwards of fifty people, and was seen sporadically by only a few of those. I was one of the lucky ones, it just appeared in my bins for a moment or two, and then vanished again. Very smart, but not even a useful year-tick....

Having seen it I abandoned the crowded paths, went and sat in the sunshine by the sea, ate a Double-decker, and hoped for a Little Auk. Miraculously I was soon treated to one drifting south very close inshore (#290). Unbelievable, and superb! It was only the second I have ever seen. I've seen three Bluetails......



The day, or what was left of it, for it was now close to 4pm, became a blantant quest for year ticks. I'm so close to 300 that I might as well. I know I said I wouldn't, but I'm hopeless. I'm not feeling too guilty, this is genuinely the first time this year I have been chasing stuff for no reason whatsoever.

First up the King Eider at Dunwich, which I found at extreme range, but in excellent light was still identifiable, at least well-enough for a mere year-tick (#291). We then dipped a Pallas's Warbler just down the road at Sizewell, before retracing our steps to Westleton Heath where we were just in time to get the Great Grey Shrike before it went to roost (#292).  That out of the way, we spent a bit of time looking at Red Deer on the heath, including two rather magnificent Stags braying and snorting.

So, eight to go for 300, and I haven't even seen a Puffin, and likely nor will I. That's how laissez-faire I've been, but it appears to have happened anyway. I must remember to not year-list again in 2011, it appears to be an incredibly effective way in which to see a shed-load of birds.

Red-foot

Couldn't resist going to see one of these at Wilstone Reservoir today, despite my firm commitment to not year-listing. I've only ever seen two before now, and neither was an adult male. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. It showed pretty well, although not well enough for me to get a decent picture of it. I walked half-way around the Reservoir to no avail; it resolutely favoured the middle. Typically, after I left it came and perched in a tree mere yards from the car-park. Still, a very smart bird, and I got to tick Lee Evans again. Not entirely surprising as he lives nearby, but I had to surpress a snigger when I learned that he had just arrived at Lakenheath when the news came up. Most people would have stayed at Lakenheath, especially people who have likely seen several hundred Red-footed Falcons, but not Lee.


If you want some proper photos of these stunning birds, take a look here. I'm not jealous. Not at all.