Ireland, March 2015

In early 2015 work had been a bit hectic (never a bad thing when self-employed) but I'd been wanting a break for a while and finally managed to squeeze in a long weekend in Ireland in late March. I grew up in Northern Ireland and cut my birding teeth there and on summer holidays in Donegal many moons ago, but in recent years I’ve only twitched Ireland, so it was good to spend a few days there, with a few target rarities, but also some general birding and visiting lesser-known sites thrown in. (Or 'sad Irish county listing', as it's also known.) 

Thursday 19 March started with a couple of dips – no sign of the Surf Scoter off Rosslare Old Harbour, within sight of the ferry terminal, and ditto with the Ring-necked Duck at Knockaderry Reservoir in Waterford – the latter was a pain as I found out later that it was there, but on a small roadside lough just a little further on round from the causeway, further than I went to look. Better luck was had with the Bonaparte’s Gull at Tramore boating lake – excellent views. Ballynacourty near Dungarvan provided a good selection of common waders and wildfowl, then I finished the day at Ballycotton harbour in Cork. Brilliant views of the very long-staying Laughing Gull flying overhead calling – bird of the trip, no doubt. After fish and chips in the famous but cramped (when it’s busy, as it was) Skinny’s Diner, I drove on into the dark to my hotel in Killarney, which I found eventually. A tiring and not entirely successful day, despite the glorious weather, but the rare gulls were the gems that made it worthwhile.

Friday 20th was the day of a partial solar eclipse, so naturally the weather in Kerry was dull and overcast, with intermittent fog and drizzle. Ross Castle at Lough Leane was picturesque even in those conditions, and about 9 am it started going very gloomy as the eclipse happened above me, entirely unseen. Another Ring-necked Duck also went unseen, but there was a good selection of commoner birds anyway.

Visibility was still iffy late am at Rossbeigh, but it eventually lifted enough to reveal several rafts of scoter and even, briefly, the Black Scoter in a group that also contained 2 drake Eiders. Then it dived, the weather closed in, and that was that. Much better views were had of a Dipper on the river at Glenbeigh, but more fog at Castlegregory meant that Lough Gill was barely visible at times. The American Coot hadn't been reported for c.10 days anyway, so had presumably gone, but there was always a chance it had just not been looked for. Not a hope in those conditions either way.

By contrast, late afternoon at Westfields marsh in Limerick City provided glorious sunshine, and even a lone Sand Martin, and there was a good selection of birds to watch at dusk at Ballyallia Lake near Ennis in Clare too. On then to my hotel in Galway City, and a few pints in Tonery’s Bar, listening to a local singer doing good acoustic cover versions, was a great way to finish the day.

Saturday 21st dawned clear and calm, and I started with an enjoyable couple of hours around Mutton Island causeway and Nimmo’s Pier. The long-staying but wide-ranging Forster’s Tern had been seen again there in recent days, but no sign this morning. I did log a near-adult Ring-billed Gull, 3 Iceland Gulls (an adult and 2 juveniles), 2 Sandwich Terns, and at least 15 Great Northern Divers dotted around the bay, though, plus a good selection of wildfowl and waders, so it wasn't exactly wasted time!

Next up was the other side of Galway Bay around Ballyvaghan. On the edge of the Burren, and in glorious sunshine, the scenery was spectacular, and the birding wasn't half bad either. Highlights in millpond conditions off the small stone pier at Gleninagh included a fine adult drake Surf Scoter, another 25+ Great Northern Divers, and at least 35 Black-throated Divers, including 28 in one flock!

In the afternoon I headed inland to the Shannon Callows, an area I’d never spent any time in before. A flight of 100+ Greenland White-fronted Geese greeted me at Ashton’s Callow in Tipperary. Getting to what’s left of the hide was a bit of an obstacle course, but worth it, with a wide selection of wildfowl and hundreds of Black-tailed Godwits. Next stop was just over the border in Offaly, but Turraun was disappointing, and I made a right balls-up of finding the right way to access Lough Boora Parklands, so it was late in the day when I got there (and it was very busy with families enjoying the spring-like weather). I saw some common birds there, and plenty of Irish Hares, but failed on Grey Partridge at their last Irish stronghold. The night was spent in a pretty soulless motorway hotel just outside Portlaoise with a few cans in front of the football on the telly – the melodrama going on outside in the corridor sounded far more interesting!

Sunday was a day of visiting more inland sites well off the usual birding map for British visitors (and most Irish birders too, I suspect). It included enjoyable if unspectacular woodland birding at Grantstown Lake in Laois and Oak Park in Carlow, Pollardstown Fen in Kildare (which apparently houses a rare snail and an endemic species of fly(!) – an interesting site but not very birdy), and a visit to Poulaphouca Reservoir in the shadow of the Wicklow Mountains, which looked stunning and are already pencilled in for a visit another time. I just had time to pop back to Knockaderry Reservoir and see the Ring-necked Duck (aided by looking in the right place this time), but ran out of light without having a chance to drop in to see a long-staying Red-necked Grebe (which would have been an Irish tick) at my favourite Irish site, Tacumshin, on the way back to the ferry.

I missed a few target birds over the four days, but saw quite a few of the others, and they were only ever a smallish part of the aims for this trip, so I arrived home at 4am on Monday tired, but satisfied and relaxed.

 

White’s Thrush, North Tolsta, Lewis

About 10 pm on Friday 24 October 1998 came a pager message which at the time beggared belief – White’s Thrush on Lewis, for its 10th day! This was before the really long-staying Scilly bird the next year, of course, and the showy ones in recent years elsewhere – this was a real mega, a birder’s bird, and it had been on someone’s lawn daily for over a week before they got someone to look at some photos of it! Caught on the hop, I couldn’t face the long drive, so didn’t go overnight, though others did and scored.

Lewis is Free Presbyterian territory, of course, and messages made it very clear that searches for the bird on the Sunday would not be welcomed by the locals. Transport options were pretty much non-existent for that day too, so James and I teamed up with Pete Hutchins and Trevor Ellery for the Monday. Pete was immense, driving from Hampshire to Ullapool virtually non-stop, but we arrived in Stornoway with no more recent gen than the Saturday afternoon. At least 30 other birders made the trip to North Tolsta that day too, but no sign in the original garden, and after a couple of hours we were failing badly. James and I were shown good photos of it from the previous week, which did not help - I thought I had blown it big time. Then, just to make things worse, we got pager messages about an American Robin on Scilly – we both needed it and could hardly have been further away if we’d tried.

But salvation was at hand – Pete and Trevor had wandered off and, with not much more than an hour left before we all had to head back for the ferry, they refound the White’s Thrush in a garden a few hundred yards back down the road. After an anxious vigil while Pete and Trevor went through the garden again (with the owner’s permission), finally the thrush shot out of the hedge nearest to the assembled birders and did straight and level past us before landing a hundred yards or so away at the next-door house and scuttling under a car. 

What an astonishing bird! I’d seen photos, of course, and even the stuffed one in the common room at Fair Isle Obs that had had me drooling only a few weeks before, but nothing quite prepared me for just how gorgeous and intricately marked a bird it really was! 

Other birders legged it down to the next-door house, and quickly (and inadvertently) flushed it from underneath the car. It flew back to us, giving us another thrill with the full Zoothera underwing experience before diving back into the hedge. By the skin of our teeth we had got it (and it was not seen on subsequent days): our time was up, so we left it and headed for the ferry, but we had some stunning mental images to take back with us.

Yellow-browed Bunting, Scilly

On 19 October 1994, a Yellow-browed Bunting was found on St Agnes. Another absolute mega (the first for Scilly, and only the fourth British record), it was also a personal landmark, as it was my first twitch to Scilly, rather than being on the islands when ticks were found. Indeed my first island twitch, bar the Isle of Sheppey, which doesn’t really count.

It was found late on the Wednesday, and even most birders on Scilly at the time didn’t connect until the Thursday, while I was still umming and aahing about going for it (including an ill-timed phone call to Rob Wilson, who I knew was on Scilly, just as he was trying to photograph the bird. Doh!) Alastair Stevenson was up for it too and managed to book a flight for the Friday, but by the time I could try to book to join him, all flights had gone. Aargh! Luckily for me, Paul C had booked on spec some time before and gave me his outward flight, passing up the chance to travel to year tick it in his big year (very magnanimously, considering we didn’t know each other that well at that point). (This was of course pre-9/11, and not only were provisional bookings possible, but you didn’t have to show ID to travel, so all I had to do was pretend to be Paul for a short while.)  

Travel went without a hitch and by late morning we were down by the old Obs on Aggie. It was a queue-and-view system, in groups of 10, but you had 10 minutes in there and then out, win or lose. We lost first time – no sign of the bird, which promptly showed only a couple of minutes after the next group went in. Rats! Having rejoined the back of the queue, gradually our turn came round again, and this time the bird showed very well in one of the small weedy fields opposite the Fruitcage. I don’t think either of us realised properly at the time just how rare a bird this was, as it was only two years after the North Ron bird that Paul ticked, but it remains a blocker to this day (you had to move very quickly to get the spring bird on Hoy, Orkney in 1998 and the only other record since then, in Kent in 2022, was not twitchable). The next gettable one will be very popular indeed.

Alastair and I had decided to make it a two-day trip, and later that afternoon we trotted down to Troytown to tick Dusky Warbler. Next day we ticked Pallas’s Warbler on Tresco, it flicking around in an apple tree by the Abbey Gardens. Later I found (or co-found, I forget which) another Pallas’s by the Great Pool, so maybe I wasn’t a complete tart. Maybe.

Cape May Warbler

Shockwaves abounded on 23 October 2013 when Mike Pennington found Britain’s second Cape May Warbler at Baltasound on Unst. The only previous record was also in Scotland, a one-day singing adult male at Paisley Glen near Glasgow on 17 June 1977 – it was feared that it might be the one of the dreaded one-and-onlys that litter the rarity record books, a permanent gap on nearly everyone’s lists, but now at last here was another chance at a near-mythical bird.

True to what had become a depressingly frequent pattern around that time, I couldn’t go for this bird immediately, and had to wait until the next day. No boss to answer to but myself, but meeting deadlines means future work too, so needs must. I had a one-way flight left over from unsuccessful twitching exploits earlier in the year, so quickly shifted it to the early Aberdeen–Sumburgh flight for the 25th, and teamed up with Ash Howe, who had also had to delay a day because of work. Ash was great company and did most of the driving up to Aberdeen.

His driving once on Shetland in particular was spectacular, and we just managed to get on a Yell ferry I didn’t think we had an earthly of making. It was a bit of a wait at Gutcher for the ferry to Unst, though, and as it appeared, Ash tried to start the hire car. Completely dead! Not even a flicker to give us hope it might start. With the ferry already docking, there was no time left to try anything else, so we just pushed the car to one side and jumped on as foot passengers. Now we needed a lift to the site, and luckily we found some other birders on the ferry who came to our rescue and got us there.

A few of the previous day’s twitchers had stayed on Unst overnight and were still there, including Paul C, and he got us on to the bird within a minute or so of arriving at the garden of the derelict house it favoured. Sumptuous views followed – a first-winter female, it wasn’t the most brightly coloured of American warblers (or even of Cape Mays), but smart and pretty in a subtle way, and we stayed quite a while enjoying the views.

Then there was the issue of getting back down south. Our helpers from earlier had already gone, but Russ Haywood offered us a lift all the way back to Lerwick. Top man! We checked on the hire car when we got back to Gutcher, but it was still dead, so Russ really saved our bacon.

Back in Lerwick, we hit the Star car hire office and explained what happened. When I asked, ‘So what are you going to charge us then?’, the lady behind the desk started talking about recovery fees and the cost of a new battery!  I had already discovered I had lost the photocard part of my driving licence at the site, with a solo Australian trip in just 3 weeks, so I was in no mood for that kind of crap. I explained, calmly but firmly, that I was expecting a discount. She made the mistake of admitting that they had had problems with that particular car before – it had an odd ignition system which you had to turn off in a particular, unusual sequence or it drained the battery instantly. Telling us that bit would have been handy!

It all got sorted out in the end and we legged it to the ferry terminal to get the boat back to Aberdeen. It was a sick bucket job back as far as Kirkwall, but fine after that and we got some sleep at last before the long drive home with another megatick in the bag.

Chestnut-eared Bunting, Fair Isle

When news of this bird broke on 16 October 2004, no-one really seemed to know what to do with it. The pager services didn’t mega it: the conventional wisdom at the time (now completely shattered as a concept) was that no bird that only bred east of Lake Baikal could ever turn up here as a genuine vagrant. With no previous Western Pal records, it did not feature in any list of potential vagrants: indeed, like many British birders who hadn’t birded in the Far East, I’d never even heard of it! It just wasn’t on anybody’s radar. Even the Fair Isle Obs team, well-versed of course in eastern vagrants, didn’t know what it was at first, and it spent most of the 15th as a funny-looking Little Bunting, before features were seen that really didn’t match, and they spent the evening poring over books before they found the right identification.

So nobody jumped at first – the effort and cost of getting to Fair Isle for a seemingly unlikely vagrant was a major deterrent factor, along with having to take time off work to twitch it in the week. Much discussion went on for a day or so, while the bird (thankfully) continued to reside in its chosen oat crop at Skadan at the south end of the island.

Finally the dam broke and various crews twitched it successfully on the 18th. A message appeared on the Birdnet pager that evening offering places on a private flight going on news the next day from Yorkshire. I phoned Paul Flint and confirmed that a space was still available, then spent the next hour umming and aahing. When I phone Flinty back and the space was still free, I decided to bite the bullet.

Dawn on the 19th found me in Yorkshire with the rest of the crew of five (Flinty, Matt Mulvey, myself, and I forget who else, sorry). The bird was there, so off we set. Then we got news of the likely wind speed and direction on arrival: both Sumburgh and Kirkwall were giving readings that indicated 20-knot crosswinds – we couldn’t land on Fair Isle in those! Matt was all for turning round, and the pilot was understandably anxious, so we circled over Montrose Basin for a few minutes, but I argued (successfully) that we should at least go and see what the conditions were actually like – it would, of course, be the pilot’s call as to whether we even attempted a landing.

With trepidation we arrived over Fair Isle, and luck was with us – the crosswinds were nowhere near as bad there as they were being recorded either side of us. Even so, it was tricky, and the pilot tried and failed on one approach before reversing the approach and coming in from the other end. A bouncy landing, but we got down OK. A private flight from Blackpool was waiting to see how we did before attempting a landing, but they got down too.

Once there, getting to the bird and seeing it was a relative doddle, though it was sticking to the crop in the windy conditions, so getting a good view was a bit more of a challenge. Gradually, though, we saw the chestnut ear coverts, and the gorget of streaks on the breast and the lovely orange band below them (quite Bluethroat-like in a way, I thought). A lovely little bird, and I duly added to the proferred ‘tick tin’ (though Matt, still doubtful of ever ticking the bird, only chucked in a few coppers – I suspect it was him that was noted as only contributing 9p in the Birding World write-up).

We had time now to bird a little, and a Waxwing, an actual Bluethroat, and a Northern Bullfinch made for a nice little back-up cast before a thankfully uneventful flight back to Yorkshire.

The last of the big boys (including Paul C) connected on 20th, its last day. Another one on Shetland in 2012 offered another chance, but a mainland one would be vey popular indeed.

Yellow-billed Cuckoo

Another multi-day tale from the mad October of 1999. Strap in – it was a wild ride. 

Late afternoon on Saturday 10th, a Yellow-billed Cuckoo was found in Cot Valley. I was on Portland so knew I had no realistic hope of getting there before dark, but I had to try. I ran out of light somewhere near Redruth, so I wasn’t even close. Worse, I got done for speeding on the A30 and the cops took my licence off me to have the penalty points added. So when a (much-needed at the time) Swainson’s Thrush broke from western Cork on the Sunday evening, I knew I would have to take the car over, as I couldn’t hire a car without a licence to show them. And it was due to be a clear night. I chickened out. 

Predictably, the Swainson’s stuck, so plans were laid. A spanner in the works was another Yellow-billed Cuckoo found on Tresco late afternoon, but we assumed it wouldn’t stick, so stayed with the original plan.

So, on the Monday night a carload consisting of Rich Bonser, Brett Richards, James McGill, and myself jumped on an overnight ferry from Pembroke Dock, picking up Chris Batty (who had flown into Cork airport) on the way to Garinish out on the tip of the Beara. No sign of the Swainson’s Thrush on Tuesday 13th, and we found out on the way across southern Ireland that we were missing a Veery in Cornwall too. Swear! Back on the ferry overnight, and belated news of a Bobolink on Skokholm just piled on the pain for Chris and Rich as they needed it too and we sailed right past it in the dark. Having done all the driving I was a spent force when we got back to Somerset, so I fell asleep on the back seat of Rich’s car to the sound of happy hardcore as we headed down to Cornwall for dawn. 

The next day was pretty manic too – the Veery had bunked overnight, so we spent the morning at St Levan miserably dipping, but then mega alert again – Blue Rock Thrush on Scilly! Only the third one ever, and everybody needed it! And we were very well placed. Chaotic scenes in the car during the short but hectic drive to St Just, trying to book whatever flights we could get (e.g. ‘I’ve got two on the 1215, what’ve you got?’). Skybus staff looked out into the terminal, saw the gaggle of desperate birders, and put on extra flights (back in the days when they were prepared to do that) – we had lost Brett at St Levan but he turned up at St Just and made it over OK too, and we all got good views of the Blue Rock Thrush on Taylor’s Island, St Mary’s. 

In the meantime the Yellow-billed Cuckoo had been refound after going missing for a couple of days, so we jumped over to Tresco in the afternoon to try for that, but no joy. Never mind, we’d seen the rarest bird of the lot, and that night we enjoyed the sheer luxury of actually eating food, and I got to sleep in a bed (the young lads kipped on a floor for the third night running). 

On the morning of the 15th, as we pottered around Old Town, the Yellow-billed Cuckoo was seen again by the Great Pool. A quick boat trip later we found no-one looking at it or even for it – OK, we’ll have to refind it again ourselves. Happily, and against the odds, Chris picked it up in the top of a tree. Apologies to the birder who appeared at that point and who I swore at when he dived in on Chris’s scope before I got a look, but I think it was his admission that he’d seen 3 previous Yellow-billeds, and 2 Black-billeds, that sent me over the edge! My one and only British Yellow-billed Cuckoo to date. A crazy, nerve-shredding, rollercoaster week, but it ended pretty well.

Shetland 2024

 
Paul Chapman and I had flights to Shetland left over after an abortive attempt to twitch the Western Olivaceous Warbler last year – we shifted and salvaged them twice for the princely sum of a fiver, passing on a spring trip in favour of a few days in early October. Paul booked a very nice Airbnb just south of Brae and we flew on early on Thursday 3 October for a 4-night stay. All the great pics here by Paul, used with his permission.

3 October

First stop was Grutness, where Tysties and a nearly full summer-plumaged Great Northern Diver were the pick of the bunch off the pier there. Our first migrant was a blythi Lesser Whitethroat in the Grutness garden.

We gradually worked our way up South Mainland without doing much more than adding common birds to the trip list, then headed to Burn of Sound on the outskirts of Lerwick for what turned out to be a very showy Little Bunting – not a year tick as I’d seen a wintering one in South Devon, but my best views of the species in years. We also heard the first of a shedload of Yellow-browed Warblers on this trip – they were everywhere!

Little Bunting, Burn of Sound

After a bit of shopping for supplies in Lerwick it was on to Aith, where we got very nice views of Golden Oriole and also (eventually) Rose-coloured Starling – both Shetland ticks and the latter a year tick too. It had not escaped my notice that we were also now within easy reach of another Shetland tick – the pair of Magpies that this year bred at Sandness. So we headed that way.

Golden Oriole, Aith

As we passed Turriefield, we noticed Dan Pointon standing by the roadside, so stopped to say hello, which turned out to be a very good move indeed. As we chatted, Paul Harvey waved him down into the field below, and quickly it was clear he’d found something good. When Roger Riddington and Rory Tallack started legging it round from the other side, we headed down to join them. By the time we got there it was confirmed – Shetland’s (and Scotland’s) 1st Eastern Crowned Warbler! We got excellent if fairly brief views, then watched the (very big by Shetland standards) twitch unfold. Later, a Magpie showed well by Sandness school, so that Shetland tick was also duly acquired, though it seemed very small beer indeed compared to the mega rare Phyllosc just down the road.

Eastern Crowned Warbler, Turriefield

We dropped our things at our digs opposite the Valleyfield guesthouse near Brae, then spent last knockings dipping the Red-backed Shrike at Sullom. Great first day, though!

4 October

An early morning solo walk (Paul slept in a bit, understandably knackered after the long drive up and a full day in the field on no sleep) into the very nice little plantation behind our digs produced the inevitable Yellow-browed Warbler but not much else. It was overcast and breezy, which made birding trickier than in yesterday’s lovely conditions, and we struggled a bit on visits to Clickimin and Quendale Mill. We heard the Red-breasted Flycatcher at Geosetter but it wouldn’t show. 

Barred Warbler, Clickimin

Back at Loch of Clickimin we finally saw the Barred Warbler very well, and we finished the day at Hoswick dipping a Snow Bunting and the long-staying Wood Warbler. But we found a Siberian Chiffchaff, which was something at least, after a bit of cat and mouse trying to get a decent view.

5 October

An early start today, heading north to Yell to visit Adrian Kettle, longtime friend of Paul’s from their Essex days (and I’d known him years too – in fact today was the 20th anniversary of Adrian, I, and others twitching Yellow Warbler together on Barra). We quickly headed up to Unst, as a Paddyfield Warbler had been found at Valyie, and the Lanceolated Warbler found there yesterday afternoon was also still present.

Paddyfield Warbler, Valyie

It was a very good day in great company. The Paddyfield showed well in the oat crop (as did a Common Rosefinch, another year tick), but became more elusive, though it showed very well again by the burn mid-afternoon. By then I had seen at least 4 Yellow-broweds and had great views of the Lancy, in the burn, the field nearby, and astonishing naked-eye views down to a few feet in the small pine plantation. We eventually moved on, seeing a Sand Martin and 3 Otters at Haroldswick and a Glaucous Gull at Uyeasound, then headed back to Yell for a delicious spag bol courtesy of Adrian’s wife Tracy, before catching an evening ferry back to Mainland. Great to spend time with Adrian again – it had been too long. Happy day!   

Lanceolated Warbler, Valyie

6 October

The Yellow-browed was still in the Valleyfield plantation early doors, and a few Redwings flew over. After breakfast we went to Sullom plantation again and this time got great views of the Red-backed Shrike, which sadly had a damaged wing so probably would not be able to migrate far.

Next up was Wadbister Voe, where a drake Velvet Scoter (another year tick) showed fairly distantly but reasonably well in the Eider flock, and 2 Otters delighted once again. Both Paul and I noticed the bill on the ‘Velvet’ looked pink rather than yellow/orange, but we put it down to an effect of either light or distance, only to find out a few days after we got back that the bird had been re-identified as a White-winged Scoter – even better! At Strand Loch there was no sign of the Pintail seen earlier, but Jackdaw was another (fairly sad) Shetland tick.

Red-breasted Flycatcher, Maywick

At Hoswick the Snow Bunting showed ludicrously well at the Orca Inn, then we legged it to Maywick for good views of Red-breasted Flycatcher before the rain arrived. We ended up at Kergord looking for an Olive-backed Pipit, but as we arrived Dominic Mitchell was running out of the plantation having unwittingly got too close to a wasps’ nest – they were still chasing him. It was a bit comical to watch, but concerning too – one stung him in the mouth and he spent a while in A&E in Lerwick that evening as a precaution, but was fine, thankfully. Shortly afterwards the OBP flew past a small group of us calling – I’ve now seen three OBPs on Shetland, all in flight. One on the deck would be nice!

At about 7.20pm, back at Valleyfield, I popped out for a cigarette and almost immediately heard a wader flying over calling. It sounded very like an American Golden Plover, but I’m not claiming it.

7 October

Our last day, so after a walk round the plantation ‘patch’, confirming a major arrival of Redwings but finding little else, we packed up and left our temporary home – excellent it was too. Back to Kergord where we failed to relocate the OBP, then started working our way south. Much the same stuff at Wadbister, then a dash to Stromfirth for a reported OBP that the original observer had realised was in fact a Tree Pipit by the time we got there. No worries – a trip tick, it showed well, and we saw a couple of Ring Ouzels on the way there, so not wasted time.

Pallas's Grasshopper Warbler, South Nesting

We were just heading past Lerwick when mega alert went off again – Pallas’s Grasshopper Warbler at Garth in South Nesting! Andrew Lawson and crew had found another goodie. Neither of us needed it, but it had been 23 years for me and 32 for Paul since we’d seen one in Britain. Peg it! Great flight views soon after we arrived, though it showed even better after we left. We had to think about heading south though. Another failed attempt at Kergord (as we were passing close by anyway), then down to Sandwick/Hoswick where we saw Black-tailed Godwit, Wood Warbler briefly (both Shetland ticks), Garden Warbler, and the Snow Bunting again (which was really wacky – I’ve never seen one in a tree before).

Snow Bunting in a sycamore, Hoswick

As we were leaving, an Arctic Warbler broke from near Lerwick. We could have made it to the site in about 20 minutes, but it was nearly 4.30pm and we had to be at Sumburgh airport for about 6.30, so we deffed out and continued south. No luck with Twite, sadly, but 6 Long-tailed Ducks and 3 species of diver in West Voe Bay right by the airport finished the trip off nicely.

In the 5 days I recorded 93 species, including 14 year ticks and 10 Shetland ticks. No ticks, but several high-calibre headline birds, a good back-up cast, and great company made for a brilliant trip.

Rollercoaster

Ten days in October 2017: a rollercoaster, but very productive.

After a quiet morning’s birding on 9th, I was back home working on the Somerset Bird Report when I flicked into Twitter and saw a tweet from North Ron Obs showing a male Siberian Blue Robin in the hand! Scream! I had only just started trying to make arrangements when it mega’d. More pics appeared – ye gods, what an eye-burner! Paul C and I headed up overnight to Edinburgh where we teamed up with Adrian Kettle and Chris Heard. We got negative news before we got on our flight, which might actually have been a blessing in disguise, as a technical fault delayed take-off by three long hours. At the last minute we decided to go anyway, but now had no way on to North Ron that day as none of the planned charters took off. Paul and I had flights on to North Ron for the next day, though, so we still had an option if it was refound.

It wasn’t. We dipped on a Red-eyed Vireo on mainland Orkney also found the previous day, but found Yellow-browed Warbler, Little Gull, and Wood Sandpiper among others. After a good night’s sleep, we also found an American Wigeon × Wigeon hybrid on the Peedie Sea but failed on some Parrot Crossbills in Kirkwall, then gave up and flew back off. Which gave us an afternoon to hoover up some goodies in Northumberland, starting with the juvenile Long-tailed Skua on Goswick golf course. Many thanks to the course officials who made arrangements for us to get out on the course despite a major competition being on at the time, but the bird came to us anyway and landed near the clubhouse, to the joy of at least three crews of robin dippers. Next up was Budle Bay, where we bumped into Tom Cadwallender, BTO rep for Northumberland and one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. Paul eventually picked out the Richardson’s Cackling Goose along with a Todd’s Canada Goose, in a ludicrously large number of Barnacle Geese (the sight and sound of them was magnificent, as always). A quick dash down to Druridge Pools and we swiftly added Barred Warbler and Red-necked Phalarope to finish off a much better day than expected. 

Late on 12th news came through of an Orphean Warbler sp. on St Agnes, and first-hand reports from Cliff Smith and Mark Dowie from the field on 13th mentioned ‘chevrons’ on the undertail coverts – enough to make me think Eastern was in the frame and book flights for Paul and myself for the next day. It was partly a defensive move as we both wanted to spend that afternoon twitching the Rock Thrush still present in Gwent, but neither wanted to be caught out logistically if the Orphean was confirmed as an Eastern. Option sorted, we duly met up at the Blorenge and had some good views of the Rock Thrush. Later, photos of the uppertail pattern on the Orphean led most to think Western, so it seemed like a busted move, but the tickets were already paid for and there were some good birds on Scilly, so we went anyway.

We managed to dip both Isabelline Wheatear and the apparent Wilson’s Snipe, but did see American Golden Plover for the year. And, most importantly, our trip to Aggie gave us as good views of the warbler as could be expected, looking through one hedge to another one at the back of the field. The Home Counties crew that had flown on with us from Newquay had more luck with the snipe, and Adrian Webb got some important pics of the warbler, though sadly it seems they did not get the full airing they should have as quickly as they might (despite one being posted on Twitter by Stu Butchart within an hour of it being taken). There was a Hawfinch influx going on at the time, but it was still an unexpected Scilly tick on Aggie too.

We got back to St Mary’s to find that worries about the incoming Storm Ophelia meant we had to cut our daytrip short and fly to Land’s End to be sure of getting off, as getting stuck on would have meant being on till Tuesday at the earliest! It felt a bit frustrating at the time, and the courtesy minibus ride from St Just to Newquay was a bit tedious, but just over a week later we were to have it confirmed that it was indeed Britain’s first Eastern Orphean Warbler and that our trip had been a very good move indeed.

Southeasterlies had me on Portland early on Sunday 15th, and it did not disappoint. It was The Firecrest Day – they were everywhere. The Obs broke their annual record for ringing Firecrests – 68 (!) in just one day – and there were still unringed ones zipping around the Obs front garden near dusk, so the total on the island must have been way higher than that! Lots of migrants about the Obs garden, culminating in a Radde’s Warbler trapped and seen in the hand. A very interesting chat, too, about the Orphean with Grahame Walbridge, who also thought it was an Eastern. Several views of Hawfinch whizzing about, another view of the Radde’s when it was retrapped, and an obliging Red-breasted Flycatcher up at Broadcroft made it a very enjoyable day. So much so that I only just registered news of a possible Arctic Warbler at St Alban’s Head that evening.

Storm Ophelia blew out the Monday completely, and I was still cracking on with work on Tuesday 17th when news came through late morning that the ‘possible Arctic Warbler’ was still present and was in fact a ‘probable Two-barred Greenish Warbler’. I’d not been able to go for any of the previous ones, for various reasons, so it was a big need for me, about to become a gaping hole on my list come the following January, when adoption of IOC taxonomy by BOURC would make it a full species. I left swiftly, and was near Dorchester when it mega’d. Happily it showed almost immediately upon arrival and I even got it in the scope briefly. Tick! Then the rain came in and I left earlier than planned, soaked but very happy.

Next day (18th) saw me back down on Portland for another enjoyable day hunting for migrants, though less productive in terms of scarcities apart from more Firecrests and a Hawfinch or two. Late afternoon I couldn’t resist travelling over for another look at the Two-barred, and got excellent close views in better weather. Another birder arrived just after 5.30pm, having jumped off Scilly earlier that day, only to miss the bird by a few minutes the last time it ever showed. It was a bit of a slog back to the car after another long day, but I was rewarded with the sound of a calling Stone Curlew somewhere in the fields west of the car park at dusk.

Back to Portland again in the morning (19th), and the weather was unexpectedly awful. The rain cleared, then caught me out again on an uneventful walk round Top Fields, and I got soaked (again). Back at the Obs, the rain eventually stopped, so I ventured out on to the patio for a fag, and a bird landed briefly in the ‘Brambling tree’: I shouted back into the lounge where several other birders were still sheltering ‘Red-breasted Flycatcher’! It flicked off into the hut fields, where I relocated it, and it showed well for everyone for most of the afternoon. It’s good to share.

A mega dip, some consolation birds, a blocker, a record-breaking day, a gripback, and a gratifying personal find, all in 10 days. October, eh?

Blue-winged Warbler

A really nasty weather system had gone through on 3 October 2000, so everyone knew there was going to be a good Yank around, but still we were not prepared for this! At 0925 on 4th I got a call from Paul Clack, in the middle of discussing business with my boss, telling me there is a Blue-winged Warbler on Cape Clear! Eeeeek! As this is the worst possible scenario for me in a busy week I try to dismiss it as a wind up, but of course it isn’t. At 0950 all hell breaks loose on the pagers, a plan is hatched to get there today(!), and I manage to talk my long-suffering boss into giving me two days off at no notice at all, quite how I still don’t know. By 1015 I am on the road towards Birmingham airport with Jimbo, where I know Paul Chapman has booked us on a 1415 flight to Dublin with an onward connection to Cork, and there should be a 1730 ferry to Cape from Baltimore if we got there in time. We made it to Birmingham in time, just. We knew one slip with the logistics would mean the plan would fail, so the tension was nerve-tingling, especially while waiting to board both flights. 

We landed at Cork, and were away from the airport by 1600, arriving at Baltimore quay by 1720. The five of us (Paul Chapman, James McGill, Richard Bonser, Nic Hallam, and myself) were joined by six in two cars who had flown from Stansted (including Steve Webb, Adrian Webb, James Hanlon, and Franko), and we are all on the boat by 1730.  The bird had disappeared because of a rain shower, but we heard just before we got on the boat that it was showing again (which was gutting news for the Irish birder who had just come off having dipped, and who couldn’t go back due to other commitments). At 1815, with barely an hour of light left, we were off the boat on Cape and running up the quay past the Obs towards Cotter’s garden.

It seemed to take ages for the bird to show, but in reality it was less than five minutes before I got a look down somebody’s scope at the bird perched motionless at the bottom of a small bush. The mental image I had from memories of the Peterson guide was in fact of Brewster’s Warbler, a hybrid with Golden-winged, so I was not prepared for how yellow it was!  It is an over-used word these days, but this bird really was STUNNING! We watched it until nearly 7pm, when it went to roost in bushes at the top of the garden. A Sparrowhawk went through the top of those bushes, the moon was bright and clear, and we were very glad we had got there in time to see it. 

Rich Bonser and a couple of others even managed to get back off again before dark to be at Kilbaha at dawn to try for a Rose-breasted Grosbeak found there. They dipped, but respect for the attempt. We didn’t need that, so our next move was down the garden and into Cotter’s pub (then in its brief incarnation as the Night Jar – geddit?), where we got down to the serious business of celebrating such a coup, and did so well into the night.

Next morning, Franko and I had a flyover Tree Pipit (a scarce migrant in Ireland) as we left our overnight accommodation. We arrived back at Cotter’s garden, where there was initially no sign of the warbler, and I caught Eric Dempsey giving me daggers (probably unintentionally, but also wondering how we managed to beat him to a first for Ireland). Then the Blue-winged Warbler showed very well and everyone was very happy. I was quite badly hung over and must have looked a right state myself, but then at the Obs I saw the cut of Dennis Weir, the finder, who had been plied with whiskey till the early hours – he looked like a boiled owl, as the Midlands saying goes, but he was still buzzing big time.

Just 11 Brits had set a new record, having successfully twitched Cape Clear from Britain on the first day of a bird. And what a bird! So what if it stayed a week and other British birders saw it over the next few days for a sixth of what we spent – that day was something special.

Siberian Thrush

There are a few contenders for bird of the day for 5 October, not least flying from Bristol to Knock in 2008 with Paul Chapman and Dan Pointon to be the first British crew to twitch the Little Blue Heron in Galway, or indeed 2013’s Thick-billed Warbler on Shetland. But the winner is the male Siberian Thrush on Gugh.

As the first full week of October 1999 started, my oppo at work was away for the week (for some reason his wife always wanted to spend a week in a cottage in Pembrokeshire – lovely indeed, but in October?) Time off was therefore at a premium, and I was glad that it was quiet and the forecast suggested it would stay that way. How badly wrong I was! News of the male Siberian Thrush’s presence on Scilly filtered out around 12.30pm on the Tuesday afternoon. The North Ron one in 1992 was too early in my twitching career for me to have gone for it, and I couldn’t get to Norfolk in time in 1994, so this remained a near-mythical bird for me.

My long-suffering boss of the time kindly said yes to that afternoon and the next morning off work, on the wildest of promises – the twitch was on! (Once again living in the southwest and being able to get to Scilly the same day was proving handy.) James McGill and I left Taunton in a hurry, heading to Newquay and a 4pm flight to St Mary’s. On the way we had arranged a lift with an Association boat, but when they saw there were only two of us the boatmen switched to using their own tiny motorised dinghy. Off over to Aggie in that – great fun! I alarmed James further by changing my trousers on the boat (I was wearing white trousers and charging through bramble and thorn in those didn’t seem a good idea – I’d chased after a Wryneck on Mendip after work only the week before and came out of the gorse with my legs looking like the Tour de France King of the Mountains jersey). Luckily there wasn’t much swell, and soon we arrived at the quay on Aggie, only to find that there was a full boatload of departing birders there. So we had to land on the other side of the quay, where there is the small extra wall. It’s a good thing we’re both tall, otherwise we would never have made it. As it was I made the mistake of trying to carry my scope and bag at the same time as grabbing the top of the wall – I nearly went in the drink, but Jimbo gave me a boost up. We got a rousing cheer as we ran up the quay – thanks, guys!

We were on Gugh by about 5.30pm, with not much more than an hour of usable light left, and only a few birders still looking, so we realised the enormity of our task if we were to see the bird that night. A shout went up, but our first view was thrush sp. – totally untickable. Then a huge stroke of luck, as a dark-blue shape flew directly towards us then went vertical like a jet fighter, showing off the Zoothera underwing and chequerboard undertail coverts. Wow! We teamed up with fellow Somerset birder Tom Raven, who was staying on Aggie, and a couple of flight views later he found it perched in a gorse bush and the 20 or so birders present all got fabulous views. What a bird!

We got the boat back to St Mary’s at about 7pm and settled into a night of celebrating under fairly cloudless skies. At the airport in the morning we saw several friends trooping off the chopper with worried looks on their faces, but they had the last laugh. Not only had the Sibe Thrush stayed, but as we collected our kit at the heliport, Mega alert went again – White’s Thrush on St Agnes! A good thing we didn’t need it! Thirty-six hours later we were back on Scilly again anyway, for the Short-toed Eagle this time, but that’s another story.

Philadelphia Vireo

October 2008 had already been pretty busy, especially with Irish trips, but on 13th I was on Portland. I’d spent the hour before the news broke on this bird chasing a smallish Locustella around Perryfields quarry, finally satisfying myself that it was just a small Grasshopper Warbler. (Of what race, though, I now wonder, uselessly?) Then I get a call from Tom McKinney at Birdnet: ‘You need to be in Ireland, mate’. Philly Vireo at Kilbaha! I hastily arranged a flight and faced up to another early morning at Stansted, flying to Shannon this time. Paul and Dan were both tied up and couldn’t go (an unavoidable business meeting in Brussels and an unfortunately timed bout of food poisoning, respectively), so I hoped I would be able to team up with others once there. I bumped into another birder (whose name I forget, sorry) at the airport, who asked whether I wanted to hire a car with him, but I hung fire until reaching the departure lounge, where I met Brett Richards and Richard Stephenson who already had a car sorted and two spare spaces – perfect!

With the bird still present, Brett’s driving across Clare was, erm, ‘committed’. Our chance companion, looking rather pale, sidled up to me as we were getting our gear out of the car at Kilbaha and asked, ‘You are driving on the way back, aren’t you?’ We had parked outside the Lighthouse Inn, so had overshot a bit, and ended up walking the long way round before reaching the right house. Then a splash through a very wet field to view a line of small willows. It was an anxious wait, as others from the same flight had not made the same mistake and had already seen the bird. Then there was a bit of a (splashy) run on, but it wasn’t too long really before we had excellent views of the vireo working its way through the tops of the willows. Only the second record for Ireland, and at that point there had only been one British record, so a huge bird to get.

A comedy moment on the way back out of the field as I tried to straddle an electric fence with one foot ankle-deep in water (my boots and socks were already sodden and had been for some time). I touched the fence with my inner thigh, got a massive belt off it, and ended up in an undignified heap, thankfully on the dry side. Still with a huge grin, though.

After a more sedate drive back, we boarded the return flight at Shannon. Dusk was falling but the sky was clearing: we feared for friends trying next day, and unfortunately the bird disappeared that night.