Little Bustard, Cornwall

A report of a brief Pied Wheatear on Portland the previous day ensured that on Saturday 26 October 1996 there were quite a few birders on the isle. Not so many birds, though (and no rare wheatears), so by late morning a decent crowd had gathered to look for a Yellow-browed Warbler in the ornamental garden opposite the front gate of the borstal at the Grove. Originally a Victorian prison, it dominates that area of the isle and seems designed to convey the clear message that the best place to be is outside its walls. An odd place to be looking for a bird, but we weren’t there for long when John Dixon announced to the crowd that there was a Little Bustard on the Lizard!

A stream of birders’ cars left the isle, including Alastair and myself in one, Bill Urwin and son David in another, and James McGill in a third on his own. Running quickly between cars while stuck in a traffic jam on the A35 (none of us had a mobile!), we managed to arrange to meet up at Axminster railway station and all jump in Bill’s car, then it was off to the Lizard together, arriving mid afternoon. The latest news when we arrived at Lizard village was that the bird had flown over to Kynance Down, so we all piled out there and started wading through knee-high heather. James and I were ahead simply because we had longer legs, and handily near a gate when we heard that the bird was now in a field nearer the village. Paul C had beaten us down there and was watching it, but sent Jude in the car round to collect us – good on ’em both. The others were still a long way off when we jumped in the car, and so our crew got split up. James and I saw the bird by creeping up quietly and peering over the wall as unobtrusively as possible. A cracking immature male, with nearly the full head and neck pattern, down to about 30 yards. Other birders arrived, also trying as hard as possible to be quiet and inconspicuous, but eventually the bird spooked and flew off.

It was refound again later in a field south of the village, and Bill and David scored by following the coast path down from Kynance, but Alastair joined James and me in a farmyard overlooking the fields, and we could not see the bird from there. So dusk fell with only four out of five of us having seen the bird. Never a good thing, and it was a subdued journey back, four of us wanting to celebrate but not daring to. Getting tangled up with Honiton Carnival didn’t help either.

So it was that next morning Alastair’s wife dropped him off in Taunton and I took him down there again. It hosed it down all the way there, but the rain stopped as we drove on to the Lizard. We arrived and parked in the middle of Lizard village at about 11.45 am. After all his tribulations of the day before, Alastair was over the moon when, as we were grabbing our kit out of the boot of the car, a shout went up and the Little Bustard flew over our heads! He went off and saw it well on the deck, I sauntered down to the point and did a bit of a seawatch (found a Leach’s and a Pom, not bad), we were both happy, and on the way back I too could finally celebrate the bustard properly.