Bulgaria - day 3

It really was this dark

Heavy rain, and I mean torrential, greeted us as we woke up in Kavarna. We were headed towards some marshland/reedbed habitat at Durankulak near the Romanian border to search for that most interesting of birds, Paddyfield Warbler. The futher north we went, the darker it got. The rain got heavier, if that was possible, and every now and again an impressive bolt of lightning crashed through the sky. Arriving on site there was little choice but to sit in the van and wait while sheet lightning played across the sky, and about 10cm of rain fell in twenty minutes. Gradually it appeared to ease, and so tentatively we clambered out.

There we are, clambering out. Tentatively.

Birds were singing everywhere, mainly Great Reed Warblers, but several Paddyfields were also fairly close in. The reedbed was fantastic - Little Bittern, Purple Heron, White-winged Black Terns, and gazillions of Warblers, as well as the noticeably thicker-billed race of Reed Bunting. We enjoyed the spectacle for about fifteen minutes, before the rain returned and sent us scurrying for shelter. This was repeated regularly for the next hour or so, with yet more lightning, rolling thunder, and stupidly heavy rain. You can never really pick weather during a holiday, and it's always a disappointment when precious time is wasted waiting for foul weather to ease. We didn't do too badly all in all, but it was rather unsettled for the whole of our stay.

News of a drenched Red-footed Falcon looking exceedling miserable on some wires a couple of miles down the road cheered us up, so so off we pootled to have a look. It was one of the wettest birds I have seen in a long time, you could tell it didn't want to be there and was hugely regretful of it's chosen migration route. It's a rare bird in Bulgaria, whereas it's a common one in neighbouring Hungary, and we didn't see more than four the entire trip. Naturally Mo wet himself when he saw it, but seeing as we were all fairly wet anyway, nobody other than me noticed.

We spent the rest of the morning on the beach at Shabla, watching migration happen. It was very much like being in Wanstead. Rollers flew by, as they do, and so did Orioles and Bee-eaters, and best of all we were treated to a Nightjar coming in-off, not something you see every day, even in Wanstead. The rain seemed to have passed now, and it became extremely hot and muggy. Time for another enormous salad lunch and a cold and extremely cheap beer, via a Tawny Pipit in the dunes, before heading towards some of the amazing steppe habitat we had passed on the way north. This time I bagged the front seat....and very happy that made me a little later on.

Viz-migging in Bulgaria

Snuffi does the Black Sea

Bulgaria - day 2 continued

Okey-doke, I have no idea where I was (literally, in most cases), but this was the day that we drove up and over the Balkan range and plateau, and onwards towards Kavarna, our base for the next two days. One of my very favourite places was a streambed just as we hit the hills on the way up - again, a place where I could have stayed for days, if not weeks. I forget exactly what we were looking for - I let Dancho go off and find whatever it was (Sombre Tit perhaps?) - and I got to chasing the birds that were readily and immediately visible - Northern Wheatear, Isabelline Wheatear, LRP, White Wagtail and Red-rumped Swallow, for which there is just time for one more image. Image is of course a fancy term for photo. Just humour me.

From here we carried on up onto the plateau, and near a small village complete with a loudspeaker advertising chickens, had a few looks for something-or-other. Again I wasn't really paying attention. I was just so delighted to be out in storming habitat that I just got on with birding and snapping. Highlights here were some great butterflies, including this Queen of Spain Fritillary.

A fabulous piece of Woodland near a place called Gorica yielded the much sought-after Semicollared Flycatcher, as well as singing Yellowhammer, somewhat of an atypical location for us Brits, but Dancho said it was perfectly normal. The BSPB has made a point of putting up lots of nestboxes, just as the RSPB does at places like Nag's Head, and so it didn't take long for us to find a pair on territory. Very smart, everyone likes a black-and-white Flycatcher, even if they have to travel to Yorkshire to see one.....

There was quite a bit of driving to get up to our destination, and it's possible I may have fallen asleep in the van. Our final stop was a place near Cape Kaliakra which looked the business. A deep valley right next to the Cape, leading right down to the sea. A mega migrant trap if ever I saw one. Alpine Swifts cruised by, and on the cliffs themselves both Pied and Black-eared Wheatears nested. I'd wanted to see an adult male Pied for a long time, but the views were difficult. Dancho assured me we would see them better the next day. OK then.

Oh, I nearly forgot Pygmy Cormorant. How on earth did I manage that? We saw a bunch of them at a place called Poda around lunchtime. Wouldn't want you to miss out, they were a highlight of the trip....ahem.

Runty. And crappy.

Bulgaria - day 2

Back to Bulgaria, though as an aside I am pleased to report that I finally caught up with the Thames Bonaparte’s Gull at the weekend, which along with the Courser were the two birds that I might have missed due to being in Bulgaria. News came on around lunchtime and so I scooted down to Barking Bay with the kids, and was pleased to find it bobbing about doing very little. It transpires that the bird seen on Saturday at Crossness was in fact a different bird, who would have thought it? I was happy to have seen either, and it takes my London total to a reasonably-respectable 240, with a couple in hand. I’m some way off the top, but if I continue to live in London (as is the plan) then gradually it will go up and up. Unless they lump everything, in which case it will go down and down... that said I’m not sure if I would mind that much if the Laridae simply became “Gull”. You could bird without a care in the world, looking forward a bit to January 1^st, 2030: “Ah look, Gull over there, a big black one. And another there, a bit smaller, and grey. Tremendous variation in Gull, don’t you think? Well, that’s on the yearlist, no need to look at any more. Onwards.”

So, if you recall, we had travelled south-west down to the border regions near Turkey, and I think my personal tick tally was 14, including a superb Masked Shrike. Easily one of the best days birding I’ve ever had, we saw a vast number of birds, and saw them really well in fantastic surroundings. So, a well-deserved sleep after a monumental first day. Head literally on the pillow, and on the point of closing my eyes, a funny noise from outside. Yup, still time for one last tick - a Scops Owl had started calling from directly outside the hotel.

Day 2 dawned, a bit overcast, and a bit breezy. The pre-breakfast walk was nowhere near as productive as the previous day, and no bee-eaters. A modicum of activity on the Black Sea, with a few Terns, and a smart “fuscus” Lesser Black-back, the first one I’ve seen. Breakfast back at the hotel, quick packing (for today we were moving northwards up the coast), and then our first stop were the large wetlands near Burgas. Gazillions of birds, Black-winged Stilts, Avocets, a large flock of Curlew Sands. We were primarily there for the Dalmatian Pelicans though, and there were over 80 of these stately birds resting on groynes, whilst the odd one flew in a very leisurely fashion. We added a few more common waders, and then one of the gang (not me I hasten to add) chipped in with three Broad-billed Sandpipers in with the main flock of Curlew Sands. Very distinctive, I'd like to think I'd recognise another, though in reality I am not holiding out much hope - it's probably one of my easiest UK ticks - one of the most common rare birds, if you see what I mean.

We carried on northwards, through a variety of places whose names I can't remember. Highlights were a White Pelican in amongst some Dalmatians, which allowed close comparison and this is one I'll definitely be able to identify in future. White Pelican has a massive beak, whereas the Dalmatians were all spotty and had tails......

I'll get my coat.

We visited a few sites on higher ground, adding a few more birds. A site near a ford, again the name of which escapes me, was my favourite. There were Red-rumped Swallows, need I say more? The tactic was to sit on the shingle near the river bank, and wait. Sure enough.....

To be continued. Sorry, that sounds crap, but what with this work malarky, there are not enough hours in the day. For starters I need more wine. Then I need to go to Wanstead Park and check for Reed Warblers, and then I have this sneaking feeling that tonight is going to be moth-tastic, so I have some preparation to do. Laters....

White-winged Black Terns, Stodmarsh

Catchy title eh? Guess where I went today? Stodmarsh! After an early start in the garden, the highlight of which was a photogenic Broad-bodied Chaser, the next stop was Barking Bay with Nick, where the Bonaparte's Gull failed to show up. A slight ID conundrum with Curlew Sand and Knot, but I got there in the end..... Three hours of no Gull and enticing news of a Greenish Warbler not too far away across the river in Kent made it an easy decision to quit the bay.

Meeting up with Prof W at Northward Hill, we spent a fruitless few hours dipping it in glorious weather. On the point of giving up, David Campbell and a mate turned up and it then sang almost immediately. Go figure. It sang several times, and very loudly, but I never saw it. One day I'll get a good view. After another hour of silence, off we went to Stodmarsh to look for the Terns. Lovely. Also two Wood Sands, a Greenshank, a Little Stint, and a Turtle Dove. Great to be out in the sunshine, even though I am now an odd pink colour.

Bulgaria - day 1

We woke up pretty early, we wanted to make every minute count. I had a tick outside the front door of the hotel before we had even gone anywhere, a small group of suspiciously long-tailed Cormorants came over, I surmised they were Pygmy Cormorants, and Dancho agreed. We would see them much better later on, but for now it was excellent news as Dick and Mo hadn't come downstairs yet and I was able to grip them off even before breakfast.

A quick walk down the beach for another new one, this time Eastern Olivaceous Warbler. This was literally three minutes from the hotel. And there was a Shrike. And Bee-eaters. I began to realise that this was going to be a superb trip. The eastern olly showed extremely well, and with a little patience I was able to get a couple of good photos of it, which you get to see here.

Back for breakfast, and then a monumental day beckoned. It's a little bit of a blur where exactly we went, but mostly it was south-west towards the spot where Greece, Turkey and Bulgaria coincide. I think I got another twelve new birds, but it was all about the experience, and I've never experienced anything like it. Cuckoos were everywhere, so were Golden Orioles. Nightingales and Corn Bunting were a constant soundtrack. Shrikes, oh god, the Shrikes. Everywhere, literally every place we stopped - four species in a day, and I lost count of the individuals. I had known I'd see a few, but I was woefully unprepared for the numbers. Mind blowing, at one point I had to sit down I think.

This continued for the whole day. Every place we stopped, I could easily have birded there for days. It was a shame we kept moving on, but such is guided birding - they have an itinerary and list of targets, so onwards we went. We scored them all, including Masked Shrike at the end of the day, a most-wanted. We encountered few towns, and no other people. Once outside Burgas, life became extremely rural, and the commonest mode of transport in the countryside was Donkey and cart. It is incredibly green, and replete with crumbling Soviet era concrete buildings, and the worst roads I have ever encountered. A series of joined-up potholes would be more accurate - the impression is of a country that has seen better days, although now outside of the USSR I guess that isn't true. But a lot of the place has been left to decay for whatever reason - presumably lack of money. Who cares though, the birding was phenomenal.

By the end of the day we had notched up 14 species of raptor, including Eastern Imperial Eagle and Lesser Spotted, one of which sat next to the car and let us soak it up. The Mo thought he had died and gone to heaven I think. I lost count of the number of times he muttered "oh Christ!", and then twatted me round the head with his camera lens whilst elbowing me in the face. I enjoyed it though, which is the main thing, and we all got in on the action.


Men at work. Dick (L), Mo (R)



We did a fair few miles in order to connect with all the target birds, and our day birding was slightly curtailed by a violent rainstorm somewhere near the border, but when we got back to the hotel for much-needed cold lager at a price you could not say no too, I knew we had experienced something special. My favourite place was a hilltop near a place called Topolovgrad, I could have stayed for hours. Monumental views in every direction, with a pair of Long-legged Buzzards and Isabelline Wheatears hopping about. Hawthorn-style scrub on the slopes held Olive Tree Warbler (enormous), Orphean Warbler, and of course Red-backed Shrikes. Breathtaking birding, why oh why can't the UK be like this. The last time I had a view like that with birds like that was.....oh, wait.....Kington Golf Club in Herefordshire, three days ago!

Olive Tree Warbler

A bit of skulker, but got there in the end

DEFRA Shocker

I had wanted to carry on with my synopsis of Bulgaria and its wonderfulness, replete with stonking photos of things like Red-rumpers and the like. Instead I find myself a little downbeat, even after yesterday’s triumphant twitch. Here is why. This is not a serious blog, but this is serious.

Defra have provided £375k to fund a research project to evaluate different methods of reducing the alleged damage that Buzzards do to Pheasant shooting estates. Here are the four options to be trialled. Any guesses as to which might be the most popular with gamekeepers?

1. Cut vegetative or artifical cover inside and outside pheasant-rearing pens. Provide shelters/refuges in the form of brash piles or wigwams. Possibly also wooden shelters/ refuges.

2. Diversionary feeding. Whole carcasses left on posts out of reach of ground predators. Type of carcass to be agreed with site owners. Provide for limited periods to reduce risk of increase in local buzzard population.

3. Translocation (permanent). Permanent removal off-site, for example, to a falconry centre. NE [Natural England] would be able to provide assistance for researchers in planning and licensing negotiations with potential recipients.

4. Nest destruction. Breeding birds displaced by destroying nests under construction, for example, using squirrel drey-poking pole or shotgun from below thereby forcing the pair to move on to find another nest site or not breed that year. Care would be needed to avoid injuring birds.

If ever a decision showed the influence of money and lobbying, this is it. Only last week it was reported that there was only one pair of breeding Hen Harriers left in England. Their continued persecution by criminal gamekeepers, and the inability of the authorities to prosecute them, or impose any kind of meaningful sentence even if they do, is criminal in itself. Some people may bleat on about old Etonians, Toryboys and so on, but it’s deeper than that. The system is broken. These people act with impunity. I know the majority of the population couldn’t give two hoots about Hen Harriers or Buzzards, but it is still wrong that a tiny minority of people can have such an impact on a species, and all because of money. I’ve never been shooting in my life. Being a birder, I can’t really see the attraction. Photos of proud “hunters” with their kills laid out in front of them, frankly I find appalling. That said, I enjoy eating chickens, and bits of cows, and the process that makes that possible is all pretty horrific too. Hypocrisy is alive and well in Wanstead I’m afraid.

But to give taxpayers money (ergo my money) to fund a trial that limits and removes Buzzards in/from our countryside, in order to protect a non-native species that is a gazillion times more prevalent than Buzzards, and just so that a tiny tiny number of people can pay big bucks just to be able to shoot 21 of them rather than 20 in the space of an hour..... According to the RSPB, there are 41,000 (top end) breeding pairs of Buzzards in the UK. In contrast, it’s estimated that 40 million Pheasants are released each year. To save you time scrabbling for a calculator, that means that Pheasants outnumber Buzzards by 488 to 1. Buzzards were relentlessly persecuted for years by the same people who now seemingly could be granted carte blanche by Defra to have another go. Their numbers are recovering nicely, but they should never have had to recover in the first place. To even consider this trial is shameful in the extreme. The gamekeepers and landowners must be laughing their heads off, literally laughing all the way to the bank.

I’d encourage you to read these links

-          Raptor Persectution in Scotland

-          RPSB Response

-          Pies and Birds

-          Dusty Bins

And fight it.

Of Course I did!

The most magnificent bird. Bloody miles away but utterly superb. It could not have arrived at a worse time. News on Sunday evening after dark, after a few days away, not having seen the family, and a pile of stuff at work. With a heavy heart I declined the offered lift on Monday. Of course, not being a twitcher I didn't really care that much at all. But when it was there this morning again, I found I cared enough to wangle a half day off today and go and see it. The old guard talk about the legendary Scilly bird, I had never imagined I'd get the chance.

Well I did, and I have. The key question is of course how many photos of a Cream-coloured Courser is too many photos of a Cream-coloured Courser? I'm thinking about eight. Bulgaria will resume shortly. Excuse me whilst I go off and punch the air with delight.