Barrow’s Goldeneye – Ythan Estuary, Aberdeenshire, 16^th May 2005

This saga again involved another instance of me travelling the wrong way on the UK motorway network when a very good bird was available. The news broke on the pager on Friday the 13th May when, inevitably, I was driving south to spend the weekend in Ryton-on-Dunsmore. Yep, Friday the 13th.... . The news certainly wasn’t trivial; the second ever Barrow’s Goldeneye on the highly accessible Ythan Estuary in Aberdeenshire, just a small matter of 25.5 years after the first... .... .

I ‘endured’ a weekend with Elizabeth (only kidding Elizabeth!) before, on Sunday the 15th May, travelling back north to Mum’s in Burnley and staying overnight.

My punishing schedule then involved getting up at 06:00 the following morning and driving to the temporary offices of whichever British Gas derivative I was working for in Newmains, Wishaw in Lanarkshire. I worked (firstly in the office and then latterly on site) until 16:.00 when I sneaked away from work on a mission to unblock a blocker.

The journey to the Ythan Estuary from deepest Lanarkshire went well despite the time of day involved which resulted in rush hour traffic in Dundee at least.

It was strange to be passing through Angus and Dundee given that I would be intensively ‘doing it’ as part of a 24 hour bird race team the following Saturday.

Having been trapped by a road safety camera the preceding Saturday I was less than impressed to be apparently flashed at by another, and then to have a speed-gun waved at me by two policemen in a lay-by on the A90(T). Otherwise, the drive was uneventful(!) and I navigated my way through Aberdeen and on to Newburgh to arrive at the Ythan by 19:00. There was some urgency as the evening light was not the best, and could deteriorate at any time, especially given the bitter north-westerly wind lashing across the estuary to the viewpoint on the A975.

And the problem was where to begin? The pager offered some good clues, but no birders or pertinent birds were obvious from the big lay-by on the A975, so I quickly returned to the cottages further back along the road. From here, thankfully, a small group of Goldeneye were visible, and so I assembled my gear (minus a suitable coat, unfortunately) and crossed the road to a suitable look out.

Once sorted, the male Barrow’s Goldeneye was immediately obvious as it frequently dived, and occasionally preened and displayed (with its beak open!) amongst a flock of some twelve Goldeneye (although it stayed apart from the Goldeneyes at times). Views were good, if a little distant, although at times the bird was difficult to relocate after it dived due to the windy or choppy conditions.

It was, basically, superficially similar looking to male Goldeneye but was perhaps bulkier, with a different head shape, and had a white crescent on the lores, large, square scallops on the coverts and orange legs.

I enjoyed the trip very much; it was another belting tick, and the only real negative was the fish and chips on the way back.

Subsequently either the same bird or another was seen very well on the river in Callander on the 27th January 2007.

Barrow’s Goldeneye, Callendar, Stirling, January 2007 (photograph credited to Simon Knight).

Brünnich’s Guillemot – Portland Harbour, Portland, Dorset, 30^th December 2013

Wow!!

Who would have thought it?

Scored with Brünnich’s Guillemot on the penultimate day of 2013!

The bird had first been reported on Thursday the 19th December, but although it then hadn’t croaked and lingered day after day, Christmas nonsense and distance precluded any thoughts of going for it.

I had Christmas at home, and completed a vantage point survey at Greencraig on Saturday the 28th December.

Then, for unknown reasons I was on a train between Southport and Wigan on the 29th December (I assume I had been in Southport overnight?) as I have notes suggesting I saw Whooper Swans from the train near Martin Mere. Just what I had been up to, and why I wasn’t in my car I know not.

I do know that that once I was reunited with my car I was planning to drive to my Dad’s in Chesterfield for the New Year.

As it turned out, I did so via Portland in Dorset, as you do...... . The things you do when a good bird is available!

The first leg of this involved driving south on the M6 and the M5 to Somerset. From there it involved navigating through Somerset and Dorset from near Taunton, to Yeovil, to Dorchester, to Weymouth and finally Portland. This took some five hours, which meant, as it was mid-winter, the remaining daylight hours, once I finally got there, were a serious consideration.

Anyway, I duly made it by mid-afternoon, and parked up, assembled my gear, etc.. The bird was on the Portland side of the harbour, and was generally close inshore, moving rapidly (particularly when underwater) just off the nearly created sea defences and esplanade, the marinas and the buildings, jetties, etc., around Portland Castle.

Being a sunny day in the period between Christmas and New Year there were a good number of birders there, and we roved backwards and forwards attempting to keep up with the bird swimming and diving at ranges of approximately 50 – 100 m offshore.

I shan’t attempt to detail these toing and froings; suffice to say I quickly got my eye in and did my own thing tracking the bird more than adequately with just a little bit of intuition.

This was really instructive, as it was, if not in the company of, in proximity to both Guillemot and Razorbill.

As suggested, it was distinctive once you got your eye in. It was very black and white (unlike Guillemot). The subtleties of its plumage were interesting; there was something of a first-winter / winter plumage Puffin going on. It had a strong, thick bill, with highly distinctive white line along lower part of upper mandible.

Once I had enjoyed good views for a prolonged period, I journeyed on to Chesterfield through the middle of southern England.

Whether this whole experience stood me in any stead a few years later on Sunday the 25th September 2016 when Ken Shaw mobilised me to Anstruther to take in the Brünnich’s Guillemot he and Alan Lauder (et al.) had seen as they left the harbour for the Isle of May (and as such continue the good fight against the naysayers) is debatable.

I had really great views of this bird from the harbour walls and as such I was able to note the characteristics of this bird, and the differences this involved from the one I had seen in the depths of winter. It had the same ‘low in the water’ appearance, and also the winter Puffin-type plumage. The white line on the bill was a very subtle indistinct feature, and this in particular was the subject of much debate. Luminaries of the Scottish birding scene such as Martin Scott and Rab Shand were less than convinced, and Martin Scott had a call from Lee Evans asking (basically), “What the fuck was going on?”

Meanwhile, I was arguing (as best as I could) the case for Ken’s i.d., and providing Ken with feedback from the location on the ‘phone. All very, er, interesting, and very much saved by Willie Irvine, who was able to show us a back of the camera image of the bird which revealed the hard to see white tomium stripe.

It had a short bill, with a strongly curved upper mandible and discernible gonys, a pale bill tip, a tomium stripe, a ‘bumpy’ forehead, a ‘chunky’ head, and clean, white flanks. It also showed a little white flecking above the gape line and behind the eye and its upperparts showed brown hues which were somewhat ‘non textbook’ but presumably within the range of variation of a Brünnich’s Guillemot. For example, the brown hues were probably a function of the natural process of wear.

All very instructive, all the more so as it was in an atypical plumage in the UK context.

The Portland Harbour bird.

A key early photograph of the Brunnich’s Guillemot showing a hint of the tomium stripe (photograph credited to Willie Irvine).

The Anstruther Harbour bird.

…. with Ken Shaw’s flat in the background….

 Belted Kingfisher – River Don, Peterculter, Aberdeenshire, 6^th April 2005

A massive, massive relief this! Brilliant! The bird was brilliant – belting indeed. Catching up with it after the April’s Fool Day debacle was like a dream come true.

On Friday the 1st April I was driving south on the M6 with Ellen and Tessa as we were going to Ryton-on-Dunsmore in Warwickshire to help Elizabeth Lisle finally move into her house with her children. This was a momentous day for her (and for Caspar, Yasmina, Darius and Suroush) as finally they were escaping their previous home at Goodrest Cottage in nearby Brandon and (Medrhad, Elizabeth’s ex-) for their new one. In that sense it was a momentous day for me too (after all I had helped Elizabeth with the purchase both emotionally and financially).

Anyway, the rather stupendous news of a Belted Kingfisher at Tixall, Staffordshire broke as we journeyed south. Less than an hour earlier the girls and I had passed junction 14 on the M6, which would have been the most logical junction at which to leave the M6 to get there.

I pressed on, under the duress of my commitment to Elizabeth who had spent months and months living in hell. Once we arrived in Ryton-on-Dunsmore I did raise the possibility of twitching the Belted Kingfisher with Elizabeth, but very promptly parked it due to being rather fond of my manhood.

It had been April’s Fool Day indeed. But I wasn’t that foolish.

Perhaps playing the long game was the way to go? The next day, there was negative news from Staffordshire, but incredibly, there was news of what was very obviously the same bird from Eastrington in East Yorkshire. However, any hope of possibly being able to twitch this also crashed and burned as it was again a one day bird.

That’s life..... .

However, once back home in Edinburgh, I got a text from Stuart Green on the evening of Tuesday the 5th April (just as I was scrolling through my pager messages) and almost simultaneously realised that the dream was very much still alive. There then followed a manic ‘phone call to Stuart during which he explained that the Belted Kingfisher had, unbelievably, been relocated that evening on the River Don in Aberdeenshire!

We discussed my options and concluded that should it still be there the following morning I should ‘phone work with an excuse and make my way to Peterculter asap!

So it was then, that I got a text from Stuart, bizarrely, at 06:25 on the morning of Wednesday the 6th April. Unbelievably it had been ‘scoped still at roost in the same location where it had been seen the night before! I quickly ‘phoned Stuart for an explanation and discussion of our respective plans, and then hurriedly dressed and packed. 20 minutes later I was on the road and heading for the A90(T). Two hours later I was at the car-park in Peterculter, as per the instructions of Stuart and as on the pager.

I quickly assembled my gear and then walked from the car-park and down around the church-yard into the River Don valley itself. From there a straggle of birders were visible along the river, as well as those along the foot-path I was on. Some of these were ‘scoping up river, and so I binned the same way and picked up my target perched on some overhead power-lines over the river. It was a good way off, but distinctive, and, finally, ON MY LIST (OML)! I therefore quickly made my way down onto the floodplain and then upstream towards the closest group of birders.

Once there I quickly put up my ‘scope and proceeded to enjoy leisurely views of a cracking belting bird in good company, primarily Harry Scott, Torquil Grant and Stuart Green. It showed más o menos constantly as I intermittently ‘scoped it and chatted to my colleagues. Harry Scott regaled us with the story of relocating it........ .

I watched it for about 1.5 hours during which it was generally perched on the overhead power-lines (often partially obscured) from a range of c.200 – 300 m. I could have got closer views but .... . I also saw it in flight and with a fish.

Once we had enough, Stuart and I repaired to an Irish bar in Stonehaven for a late brunch, before I returned to work in time to make it to Bathgate for an induction. Phil Allen (my boss on the project I was on at the time) worked out what I had been up to (as the news made the media) but I didn’t care. Belted Kingfisher was on my list!!

As in other such instances, although I had seen this species previously (e.g., in Texas April1992) I actually looked at this one properly....... .

It was a large kingfisher with a large head and bill. Basically, it had bright white under-parts and collar, and steel blue grey upper-parts and chest band. The clearly defined white collar separated the darker blue of the head from that of the back and wings. The plumage of the head was spiky at the rear and on the crown. There was a small white spot in front of the eye above the base of the bill. The primaries were darker than the rest of the wing when the bird was at rest. There were small areas of blue-ish grey feathering on the side of the breast and the thigh. The feathers of the wing and tail had very small white tips suggesting the bird was a first summer. The dark, dagger-like bill was heavy and pointed and the legs were dark.

Belted Kingfisher near Peterculter, Aberdeenshire, April 2005 (photograph credited to Darren Robson).

 Black-billed Cuckoo – Piable, North Uist, Outer Hebrides, 24^th May 2016

Having returned from a very full-on week on the Isle of May on Saturday the 21st May, Sunday the 22nd was officially a slow day, involving some low-key, catching up, washing, etc.. I had plans for doing a lot of not very much for the day, and indeed for the days following.

However, at 17:54 that evening I received the rather incredible news that a Black-billed Cuckoo had been reported on North Uist; I was obviously very interested. When this message was repeated at 18:06 and then when it was confirmed and indicated it was still there at 18:20, 19:13, 19:40, 20:03, 20:29 and 21:02, I was completely galvanised (well, a bit!).

Obviously, it was a fantastic record, but, given the sad track record of this species in particular, was there any realistic prospect of catching up with it? Time would tell, but allowing time to elapse might also involve an increased risk of missing out.

I resolved to wait for any news the following morning. This came through as early as 06:19 on the morning of Monday the 23rd May. I was initially oblivious (i.e., asleep!) but as soon as I checked my mobile I was indeed (again) galvanised, and commenced making my plans for going, and changing my plans for what I was meant to be doing.

After some interminable faffing on the Calmac website, the 18:00 ferry from Uig to Lochmaddy was finally booked online by 07:45.

I hastily packed (though this was relatively easy as I had only partially unpacked on my return from the Isle of May and had tentatively sorted out a few things the previous evening), and prepared. I texted Tessa, whose 16th birthday was the following day, explaining that something had come up, and as such I would no longer be able to see her as we had planned and suggesting that I would call in to see her later..... . I also contacted each of John Nadin, Calum Scott, Dennis Morrison and Kris Gibb suggesting I was going for the cuckoo and offering a lift. John was travelling down south, Calum was finally on the Isle of May, and Dennis and Kris were otherwise committed with work, etc.. So, I was going alone.

I then loaded the car and departed for the Easter Bush Campus of the University of Edinburgh, where I had a previously arranged site visit to undertake involving monitoring the breeding Oystercatchers and liaising with several of the project personnel as appropriate. I completed this in record time, and then travelled to Tesco’s in Queensferry, where I had purchased some gift vouchers for Tessa by 10:18...... .

I then visited Tessa and explained to her (she hadn’t got my text...) that I wouldn’t be able to see her on her birthday, as something had come up. Bright girl that she is she responded by saying, “You’re going to see a bird aren’t you?” I confessed, but she was comfortingly sanguine, knowing her Dad too well.

Soon after 10:30 I was on my way, although immediately on leaving Dalmeny I was ‘phoned by my client at the University of Edinburgh seeking an update about the Oystercatcher work.

Thankfully, the rest of the journey to Uig was straightforward, and, in complete contrast to the same journey for the Gyr Falcon twitch, it was made in fantastic weather.

As a consequence, I arrived at Uig some 2 hours early, chilled in a way which didn’t seem right given the enormity of what was involved. I checked in, and waited for ferry to arrive and for the queue of traffic to drive onto the ferry.

The young woman at the Calmac office indicated that there had been a sudden upsurge in bookings, and certainly I was aware of a few birdy looking types in and around the assembled traffic. I retreated to the outside seating area of the restaurant / bar on the harbour side, and ordered a bacon roll and coffee and basked in the sun, reading my book (I had actually bought a book with me!).

Various people came and went from the same area, including a group of some of the birdy types I had noted. When I saw a Twite incongruously and inconspicuously feeding on a small patch of grass adjacent to the decking, I asked the presumed birders whether they were indeed birders and when they confirmed they were, pointed out the Twite to them. An elderly woman thanked me and indicated it was a new bird for her. I assumed she and her ‘group’ were twitchers from down south.

As with the drive from Edinburgh to Uig, the crossing from Uig to Lochmaddy was similarly uneventful. I birded throughout the crossing, though birds were very limited. Highlights were a probable Golden Eagle just outside Uig and a pod of dolphins before we reached The Minch. I called these for the assembled birders on deck, and still blithely assumed they were a loosely associated group of twitchers from down south.

I should have known better, especially as we arrived in Lochmaddy and there were a series of confused shouts relating to White-tailed Eagle and various divers, or not.... .

By then the tension had racketed up.

I descended through the decks to the car deck, and finished preparing my gear so that everything as ready for action, with no delays once there.

Fortunately I was towards the front of the ferry and so I disembarked relatively quickly. The adrenalin had really kicked in now and, in scenes reminiscent of the Long-tailed Shrike twitch I thrashed it to Paible at speeds in excess of 100 mph at times.

Once ‘there’ it was not apparent that I was there, and so I stopped and turned around and asked a crofter who was outside his house whether he knew where the cuckoo had been seen. He pointed me in the right direction (literally just over the hill further along the A865) so I turned around again and continued the way I was going. Once just over the hill it still wasn’t particularly apparent where I was meant to be (i.e., there were no birders on site!) so I again asked another crofter who was just going into his drive outside his house near the Paible junction, having just come off the ferry, whether he knew where the cuckoo had been seen. He confirmed he did, as his nephew had told him his garden had been full of twitchers earlier in the day!

By now other birders were arriving, and we decided we were finally there or thereabouts, and parked up. We worked out that the house and gardens between where we had parked alongside the A865 and the Paible junction was the scene of many recent sightings and set about looking for the bird.

The assembled crowd included the ‘birders from down south’ plus one or two others. There would have been some 12 or 14 people at most. Generally, most of them milled around on the road outside the house and gardens involved (i.e., the one with the red spot in the image included here). I (and one or two others) were somewhat more proactive; it was going to be dusk soon, and who knew whether the bird would survive another night?

I became aware that the woman who lived in the house was in the garden and was looking for the bird. Anticipating that this was good news, I loitered with intent, and when she came over, chatted to her. She was very friendly, and told us where she had seen the bird in her garden. She also told us where else it had been seen, and even told us that she had heard the bird calling! She also invited us into the garden to look for it.

I attempted to organise the assembled birders into some sort of co-ordinated action, suggesting that although we had been invited into the garden, that we should decide who amongst us should ‘go in’ and the rest should remain watch from the road. I looked around me for some likely accomplices; I was going in, but with whom else? This wasn’t easy, as by now I was less than inspired by those around me (one elderly woman actually played what I took to be Black-billed Cuckoo calls on her mobile; time may not have been on our side, but all the same!!). One candidate was obvious, and so I quickly nominated him. He proved to be Martin Culshaw. He and I then searched the garden to no avail, and it was apparent that despite my attempts at co-ordinated action, the whole approach was somewhat less than co-ordinated. So whilst the assembled crowd stood around chatting, Martin and I walked down the road to Paible towards other likely gardens, which may have been referenced by the woman in her garden.

We gave the garden around the first house on the Paible road a good looking at (i.e., the one with the blue spot in the image included here) to no avail. Except that, once we started making our way back from there, we suddenly heard shouts from the crowd back at the original garden. We ran back (or, in my case, sort of; it felt like a long time since I had been to the gym).

Once back, it emerged that the bird had been seen perching on the fence on the roadside near the garden we had been checking out before flying all the way back into the original garden. It would seem that we had both inadvertently and obliviously flushed the bird from the ditch alongside the triangular plot of land adjacent to the garden we had been checking out as we walked back, and it had perched on the roadside fence near the passing place sign before flying past the roadside crowd and diving into the cover of the original garden. Typical! So they didn’t do ‘owt (except to continue standing around and yakking) and saw it, whereas Martin and I actively searched for it and didn’t! No justice!

By now it was becoming apparent to me that the other ‘birders’ were not a group of loosely connected twitchers from down south, but rather, they were all members of Fife Bird Cub, and were on an organised trip to the Hebrides. Martin and I were informed what had happened by some of their number, and there were further not very co-ordinated attempts to locate the bird; Martin and I, and others again searched the garden from both inside and outside.

The Fife Bird Club members gradually sauntered off, presumably either satisfied with their views, or no longer interested, or more likely more interested in getting to their accommodation, checking in and having an evening meal. They slowly piled onto their mini-bus and eventually departed.

Just Martin and I remained, and I decided that I should circumnavigate the garden, again to no avail. By now the light was fading, and Martin and I were becoming resigned to our fate. We weren’t going to see it that night, and faced a long, sleepless (for several reasons!) night in our cars before returning, and hopefully finally catching up with the bird. Worse, wondering whether a three day stay for a Black-billed Cuckoo would be very likely. Would it survive a further night? Worse still, I was wracking my brains trying to remember whether Yank cuckoos were night migrants? Would it just leave? It was going to be a clear night...... . Aaargh!!! Very worrying times....... .

Just to make matters even worse, I was by now getting messages from John, Kris and Dennis asking whether I had connected. It was hard to explain in a brief message that some people had but I hadn’t...... .

Martin and I discussed our options in terms of where to park up for the night. As before, the Balranald RSPB Visitor Centre ‘car-park’ was the preferred option, but we realised that two cars parking overnight where there was a sign saying ‘No Overnight Parking’ might be stretching it. However, we both agreed that using the facilities there was a definite must.

I left first, and, having driven to the said location, cleaned my teeth, and then walked back to the nearby road junction, hearing but (inevitably) not seeing several Corncrakes.

Martin subsequently arrived and we discussed alternatives to Balranald RSPB Visitor Centre ‘car-park’. We opted for the area adjacent to Loch na Reivil, scene of my recent success with the Gyr Falcon.... .

Once here, I parked up and sorted myself out, and attempted to sleep. The Corncrakes which were calling nearby were the least of my problems. Getting comfortable and staying a suitable temperature (although it wasn’t especially cold) was difficult, but worse was the fact that every time I made a significant movement a motion sensor picked this up and the car alarm went off. Try as I might, I couldn’t disarm the car alarm, whether or not the car doors were locked, and so it went off all too frequently.

Black-billed Cuckoo, Piable, North Uist, Outer Hebrides, May 2016 (photograph credited to Stuart Piner).

Black-billed Cuckoo, Piable, North Uist, Outer Hebrides, May 2016 (photograph credited to unknown).

Eventually though, I managed some good, if brief, deep sleep – sat upright. Finally, it was time to get up (sometime between 04:00 and 05:00). Getting sorted involved little more than cleaning my teeth and putting in my contact lenses, as I was already fully dressed. The windscreen was misted up, but it soon became apparent that Martin had already gone.

I drove back to the same parking place we had used the previous night, and parked up and joined Martin.

Thankfully, we had the place to ourselves. In truth we were there a little early (the sun had yet to come up, although it was quite light). We waited and watched or searched and searched or watched and waited. We had perhaps been there for about an hour (and the sun had emerged above the skyline to the east) before it all happened.

Suddenly, I saw some leaves of a sycamore move in a way which had to involve something bigger than the Sedge Warbler or Chiffchaff that were singing in the garden. Suitably alerted, I then picked up on a movement of a bird which had to be ‘it’ as it flitted to the left through the canopy of the sycamore. Then, almost instantaneously ‘it’ suddenly broke cover and flew out of the garden. Cue massive relief and also, from me, a loud shout of, “Martin!”

Coincidentally or not, this apparently had the effect of causing the bird to change its mind and fly back into cover, having flown out over the road, and given me brief but excellent flight views. More predictably Martin was quickly at my side, and I talked him through what I had seen.

He patiently listened to my blow-by-blow account and then cut to the chase and checked out the north-western facing edge of the garden and commendably relocated it, perched low down just inside the fence-line.

We both enjoyed good binocular views before it suddenly made another foray out of the garden. Presumably this garden (which had the best cover) was the better place for roosting, but other nearby gardens in the valley to the southwest offered more sheltered places for feeding.

However, en route it helpfully stopped off on a relatively nearby local power transmission line, where it memorably showed in full view, in perfect light and at more or less eye-level for some minutes, allowing both Martin and I to enjoy very good ‘scope views.

I even started drawing it (although I later regretted not attempting some record shots of it). This ‘moment’ involved what were very definitely our best views. Just how long it remained there is no longer clear – but was probably just a couple of minutes or so. Similarly, just why it flew off to the garden where Martin and I had unknowingly ‘relocated’ it the previous evening is not known but it certainly coincided with the arrival of a car full of birders which pulled up on the adjacent roadside.

Martin and I ‘scoped the bird in the garden in the valley below from the A865 and then walked down towards it and continued to do the same, although by that time the car full of birders was already there. Their presence was less than helpful, as they used the car as a hide but perhaps edged too close to the bird and prevented us getting on it very easily as it moved around in the bushes and on the fences and walls on the boundaries of the large and otherwise bare garden. It subsequently emerged that they had all ‘slept’ in the car overnight (which explained their reluctance to get out of the car) and were presumably having a last look at the cuckoo before leaving to catch the morning ferry back to Uig.

Once they had left, Martin and I continued to have good, if intermittent, views of the bird, mainly in the bushes and on the fence on the rear boundary of the garden. The bird was mobile and could be elusive but we had had really good views, and as such we were relaxed, and regarded these additional views as a bonus. We chatted to the man who lived in the house when he came out to walk his two boisterous dogs, and he again invited us to go into the garden if we wanted to.

Subsequently we lost the bird, and so wandered further along the road towards the Struan House bed and breakfast where we chatted to a woman who was a guest there, and relocated the bird in the garden (i.e., the one with the yellow spot in the image included here). It was all very chilled.

Finally, at around about 09:00 we eventually left, having had very good relaxed views, and having decided we weren’t going to get any better. Coffee and breakfast were now the priority.... .

All in all, the twitch was truly fantastic experience, and involved a completely fantastic tick; not one that I ever really expected to catch up with.

Although I had previously seen Black-billed Cuckoo in Texas, it appeared somewhat smaller than I expected, being about Mistle Thrush size (though involving a smaller body and longer tail). I was belatedly struck by similarities with bee-eaters, especially in flight, but also at times when perching. The upperparts were a broadly concolourous mid-brown, and the under-parts were white, with a sharply defined boundary between the two running from the base of the bill, just underneath the eye, and on the sides of the neck to the back. The tail was perhaps the most distinctive feature, and was almost as long as the body and head, with a graduated end. The under-side of the tail involved pale rounded tips to the feathers which produced a subtle chequered pattern as the lengths of the tail feathers varied. The eye was black and surrounded by a vivid red eye-ring. The bill was reasonably stout and down-curved and dark grey, though the base and lower mandible may have been lighter grey.

Interestingly, when it was perched on the overhead wires back on, I noted that the larger remiges had a subtle two tone colouration, possibly analogous with iridescence. This is similarly apparent in the photograph which is why it was ‘selected’.

Also interestingly, the cuckoo was often ‘gently’ mobbed by Meadow Pipits (and also a Reed Bunting). How did they know it was a cuckoo?

As suggested, fantastic times...... . Further galvanised in my quest for 500!

 White’s Thrush – Baltasound Junior High School, Baltasound, Unst, Shetland, 20^th October 2015

"There!! Right in front of you!!!" An attempt to capture the mad frenzy of flashing black and white and spangled olive-gold mega-excitement of the White's Thrush breaking cover.

This account is entirely based on a ‘Finders in the Field’ account I prepared for RBA immediately after we had found the bird. As such, the account is replicated here in its entirety.

As I have ‘matured’ I have increasingly become convinced about the importance of happenstance; the (fortunate) coincidence of time and place.

..... a few years ago Ken Shaw (who I had long known having lived and birded in Scotland since 1992) moved to Queensferry, with which I have always been associated since my move to Scotland.

Obviously, as fellow birders, we regularly met up in one of the hostelries in 'The Ferry' to imbibe beers and share stories.

In addition, this happy coincidence allowed me to continue my quest to regain my work life balance now my daughters are teenagers and once I finally realised as a sole trader I (and not my clients) was in control of what I do when.

So, in both October 2013 and 2014 I accompanied Ken on visits to the Scillies, so visiting these magical islands for the first time since the 1990s. Better still, these trips involved staying on St. Agnes and doing some proper birding with some proper birders, and so making new friends such as Paul French, Jonny Holliday and Chris Pendlebury.

Move forward to 2015 and for reasons way too complex to explain there were no plans for the Scillies this autumn. Rather Ken sorted a Shetland double header which involved us being on Fair Isle for some eight days and the Unst for seven days. Two different crews. Very different places and very different birding. Again, I was visiting Shetland for the first time since the 1990s.

Fair Isle was fantastic – even more so than I had remembered or anticipated. The Obs was even more comfortable than before, and the Obs staff, and, in particular, the incredibly keen (in every sense) assistant wardens Ciaran Hatsell and Lee Gregory were brilliant. And the birding? Well too many good birds to mention, so I will just say Lanceolated Warbler.

So, well set up by Fair Isle (and also Mainland Shetland) we rendezvoused with new crew members Paul Collin and Rory Whytock and travelled to Unst on Monday the 17th October. Here we were staying in the incredible Noosthamar a.k.a. 'The Shetland Nature Lodge'.

The 18th was basically a familiarisation day with a guided tour of some of the best sites courtesy of Ken, and some half decent birds for Unst in October including Shoveler, Osprey and Kestrel.

The 19th was more of the same, and we managed to find more good birds including Glaucous Gull, Richard's Pipit and Bluethroat. This was the last day of an extended period of easterly or calm weather.

We secretly dreaded the days of westerlies and rain forecasted but certain of our number held out hope in the form of the 'switch' in weather patterns......

The earlier part 20th seemed to bear out our concerns as it was 'more of the same but less' in terms of our regular indicators of bird movements, Chiffchaff, Blackcap and Yellow-browed Warbler; still around but in comparatively small numbers. There had been a clear out.

Late on the 19th Ken had re-discovered the shelter belt plantation near the high school in Baltasound. We noted that various small pre-roost flocks of Redwing and Starling plus Fieldfare, Brambling and Chaffinch were associated with this relatively sheltered small mixed woodland.

In one of those happenstance moments after we had visited one or two of the 'usual' places on our daily round with little or no success none of us argued when Ken suggested we checked out the high school again. Fortunately it was half-term, so birding here, a site that is out-of-bounds during school hours, was fair game.

Not that we had much success, at least initially. We jointly and variously circumnavigated the plantation with no success and so the others wandered along the road.

Meanwhile, as is my wont, I 'went in' confirming if, nothing else, that the plantation was a well-used roost site as I pushed my way through the stunted Sitka spruce.

If I flushed something bigger than the usual suspects I was blissfully unaware so I absentmindedly followed the others, making my way to the nearby road. As I did so I was aware of a distant car moving closer on the road and then I heard a shout from broadly the same direction.

Somehow my brain managed to associate the two and in a very un-Unst way I assumed that some irate motorist had shouted abuse at one of my birding colleagues.

Only when Ken shouted basically the same advice again did my brain begin to engage. Anyone who knows Ken will know he can whisper across a ploughed field and it became apparent that I (and anyone else in Baltasound) was being advised of a White's Thrush....!!!

As I made it to the edge of the road I could see Ken making his way back towards me and the plantation, and Paul and Rory were also returning.

Garbled explanations revealed that both Paul and Rory and then Ken had seen a White's Thrush in flight and it had flown towards the plantation, presumably after being kicked out of it by me!

We made our way back, me staying in the school grounds rather than clambering out of them and the others going around the other side of the plantation. I was in shock; I needed White's Thrush, and having flushed it I was the only one who hadn't seen it!!

This was relatively quickly sorted as the presence of the others on the opposite side of the plantation briefly flushed the bird out to my side where it fleetingly perched just a few metres away giving me non-bins views of the underwing and undertail patterns as it alighted before it almost instantly dived back into the deep cover. My abiding impression though was the size of the beast.

Poor views. Not tick-able. Shock levels increasing.

Then, worse, as I edged forward and peered into the dark under-storey Rory shouted again as it flew out of the deepest, thickest part of the plantation and dashed into the other end behind me. Aaargh!!

We assembled on the conveniently situated boardwalk through the marsh in the school grounds, and assembled our thoughts. As I had mobile reception Ken used my ‘phone to alert island birders, and I used it to ‘phone the RBA hotline.

I was gaga by now. Any real mega finds I have been involved with have always been abroad. So this is what a real find feels like. Confused emotions, unsatisfactory views of a real skulker, my colleagues having had much better flight views and or having seen 28 or something in the UK (Ken) or loads in Asia (Paul). Would I see it again?

Well armed reinforcements quickly arrived in the form of Brydon Thomason and Micky Maher complete with camera gear. They were quickly briefed. Then we waited. And waited. We probably didn't wait that long but it certainly felt like yonks..... .

Rory had seen just were the bird had dived back into cover but no amount of peering into the dark plantation produced any hint of our bird. Ultimately Paul, very experienced with the species in Asia, began to believe it might that it had somehow darted away from the cover of the plantation without us seeing it. After all, the plantation was less than 60 m in length and perhaps 10 m or 5 or 6 rows of trees wide at one end tapering away to nothing at the other. It was also comprised of small (less than 5 m tall) stunted Sitka spruce with a few broadleaves amongst them. Surely 6 of us couldn't lose it in there could we? But conversely surely 6 of us should have been able to locate it in there?

Eventually, we decided that without a ‘walk through’ it was unlikely it would be seen again. Ken and Paul slowly walked through from the thinner end of the plantation. As they did so suddenly there it was again in flight, flying fast past each of us as we watched from our respective vantage points. In what was probably less than 30 or 45 seconds it was watched variously circumnavigating the plantation, landing very briefly and also flying off towards nearby gardens before abandoning that idea and returning back to the safety of the deepest refuges of the plantation.

We all had reasonably good flight views and some of us also had brief views of it perched up. Brydon and Micky spectacularly managed to bang off a few record shoots. Personally, besides the size and sheer presence of the bird my abiding memory was of the amazing upper tail pattern as it flew directly away from me towards the gardens; not just the pale outer tail margins but also the amazing dark centres of the upper tail.

We all convened for further mutual congratulation and self-congratulation. Elation was the predominant emotion.

However, it quickly emerged on inspection of the back of the camera shots that the bird had a significant amount of breast feathering missing, and worse, there was a large, fresh flesh wound possibly inflicted by a cat. On realising this we all agreed fundamentally the bird should be left alone and to push the bird again was not an option, either that day or the following one.

All a bit of a sad conclusion but ‘wow' remains my overall feeling.

Brian Minshull, Ken Shaw, Paul Collin and Rory Whytock

White's Thrush, Unst, Shetland, (© Brydon Thomason Shetland Nature)

White's Thrush, Unst, Shetland. In the photo on the right you can see the missing feathers. (© Brydon Thomason Shetland Nature)

Just over 35% of all British White's Thrush records have been on Shetland. More rarity stats in our Previous Records Database

Accepted BBRC and IRBC up to 2013. More rarity stats in our Previous Records Database 

The following year we returned to Unst (with a series of different crews) and on the 7th October we saw another White’s Thrush at Skaw, very well.

 Black Lark – South Stack RSPB Reserve, Anglesey, Gwynedd 3^rd June 2003

My less than successful attempt at capturing the Black Lark amidst the mad, vibrant colours of the fantastic coastal heath at South Stack, which were truly spectacular, without losing the bird. Let's call it abstract..... .

On the late afternoon of the 1st June Gillian and I were in the middle of organising and hosting an impromptu barbecue with our neighbours, Mark, Isabelle, Annabelle and Fraser Spiers, and Jimmy Menzies.

The pager alerted me to the unlikely prospect of a Black Lark at South Stack RSPB Reserve on Anglesey. The full enormity of this was slow to sink in, probably impeded from doing so by the alcohol that the barbecue involved. Nonetheless, I broached the subject with Gilly, so that at least she was appraised of the situation and my intention of going for it, if at all possible. This was not especially well received, as Gilly was aware that I was off from my hitherto intensive bird surveying the following day, and had therefore mentally allocated it for taking advantage of having both cars at home to get the overdue repair work on the Citroen ZX sorted.

Anyway, as the news finally sank in, I began to make my plans, and ‘phoned Stuart Green to see whether he was interested. Unfortunately, at the time he wasn’t, and so, as Graham Clark was away, I was faced with going for it on my own. I couldn’t be bothered trying to get someone else along by ‘phoning around or putting a message on the pager. So I reconciled myself, and also Gillian, with the idea of going for it the following morning, once I knew it was still there. I also secretly half hoped it would save me the trouble…. .

In the cold light of dawn, or at least once Gillian and the girls had departed for work / childminders, etc., news came through that it was still there, and so finally by c.09:30 I was on my way from Central Scotland to North Wales. The journey went very well (the only glitch being that Paul Pugh opted out mid-journey after I had belated asked him if he wanted to come along) and having avoided speed cameras I eventually arrived at South Stack RSPB Reserve at c.14:00-ish. The place was still congested with day-trippers and twitchers, but I eventually managed to park up at the upper car-park. Having loaded up my kit, I made a half-hearted attempt at sorting out a permit, and then set off further along the road, as birders appeared to be mainly that way. Once I had caught up with some I asked where the bird was, and they pointed back at a still large gallery on the coastal heath back beyond the upper car-park! I yomped back towards it, and relieved some of my pre-tick stress by emptying my bursting bladder as I walked along the coastal path towards the twitch itself.

Some of the first birders I encountered as I reached the twitch were photographers, including George Reszeter and Steve Young. I briefly chatted to Steve, and then excused myself, saying that I had better go and see the bird as I hadn’t yet seen it. He cheerily remarked that I’d better go and see it giving poor views at some distance, like it had for the past three hours! Anyway, undaunted, I continued on and my well-timed run came into its’ own. As I reached the gallery there was suddenly a flurry of excitement as the bird as the bird moved from its’ previous difficult to see location onto a tumbledown wall. It briefly perched in a reasonably prominent place, although not prominent enough for some. I got on it quickly with the ‘scope, and then gave directions to some of the less fortunate, so I was able to get my first glimpses relatively easily and almost immediately. Then it flew again, giving brief flight views as it returned to the burnt coastal heathland area where it was much easier to see. It showed here for the rest of my stay, feeding amongst the extremely colourful birds’ foot trefoil, tormentil, thyme, sea squill, thrift, etc., against the burnt black heathland soils. It typically scuttled about, and occasionally actively chased invertebrate prey, and generally performed exceptionally well.

Apart from slight problems when one of the RSPB wardens tried to reduce coastal path traffic, and when excited birders tried to make the most of the reappearance of the Ortolan Bunting, the ambience was relaxed. I was therefore able to make sure that I suitably enjoyed the bird. It was a stunning looking, dark charcoal black, large-headed, pale-fringed lark, Calandra / Bimaculated –like in shape and size. It was deceptively Starling like at first glance, because of its’ size and appearance whilst on the brief flight views it was somewhat reminiscent of a cowbird.

Its bill was slightly pinkish light grey, with an apparent darker tip and cutting edge, although this may have been discolouration due to the burnt habitat within which it was feeding. The bill was heavy based and pointed with a larger upper mandible than the lower, perhaps most like that of a Corn Bunting. The bird had a somewhat comic overall appearance. The plumage was matt black with some pale-fringed scapulars and coverts, more prominent on the left wing than on the right.

Black Lark, South Stack, Anglesey June 2003 (photograph attributed to Mike Malpass).

 Pied Wheatear – Newhaven, Sussex, 8^th July 1990

Okay, admittedly, this is actually the drawing I did soon after seeing the bird rather than one I have prepared specifically for the blog, but for now, at least, it will suffice. It was a stunning bird, whether or not my drawing captures this. 😎

Trained to twitch!

It’s easy for me to forget that at this time I didn’t have a car, meaning that, if I wasn’t twitching things with Pete Ewer and Mike Thompson, for instance, I sometimes had to find other means of getting there. No great hardship really, and once the reality for many twitchers (and indeed, still the reality for Mike, who has never learned to drive).

Therefore, travelling from St. Albans to see this involved three trains (not really too much of a problem as I then lived less than five minutes’ walk from the rain station in St. Albans), oh, and once in Newhaven, a very fortuitous lift from Jack Levene.

This got us close to the talus slope at the base of the Newhaven cliffs where the bird was. So were lots of twitchers / birders / birdwatchers, so viewing was not easy at first. This was not helped as the bird – slightly bedraggled as it was, was ‘hiding’ behind a large boulder. However, as the gallery moved around, so did the bird. 

It then showed itself to be a splendid black and white (pied?!) ‘white arse’ (the Old English derivation of wheatear). 

The back, wings, face mask and throat were black (although the primaries, secondaries and coverts were actually dark brown). The rest of the bird, the under-parts and the crown and the nape were whitish, with a hint of buff-grey colouring coming in on the crown and under-tail coverts. 

The rump and tail were predominately white (i.e., there was a very ‘light’ font inverted T ).

Just a few months later, on Sunday the 21st October 1990 a female / immature was seen at Holme, Norfolk, and 26 years after that, another female / immature was seen at Scatness, South Mainland, Shetland on the 15th October 2016.

Pied Wheatear, Newhaven, Sussex, July 1990 (photograph attributed to Tim Loseby).

Pied Wheatear, Holme, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph attributed to Peter Ewer).