Sociable Plover – Welney, Norfolk, 21^st October 1990

Mid-October 1990 saw me have an incredible run of ‘doubling-up’ – getting two ticks on the same day.

Not consecutive days, admittedly, but all the same….. . 

It involved a stunning sequence of good birds – providing two new birds for my ever burgeoning list on five separate days – Upland Sandpiper and Swainson’s Thrush on the 12th, Red-throated Pipit and Penduline Tit on the 17th, Western Bonelli’s Warbler and Grey-cheeked Thrush on the 19th, Little Bunting and Black Kite on the 20th and now Parrot Crossbill and Sociable Plover on the 21st October! Incredible times!

Having earlier twitched Parrot Crossbill and Pied Wheatear at Holme on the North Norfolk coast, Pete Ewer, Bill ?????? (the old boy Pete used to bring on some such escapades) and I returned back through rural West Norfolk, to the intensively farmed flatlands north of Welney.

Here, after a yomp across several fields chasing a Lapwing flock which didn’t want to play, we finally got views of our bird.

The views at this time were distant. As such, as we edged closer, probably due to our presence, the flock would roll away from us, enabling the Sociable Plover to be picked up in flight and then on the ground.

Fortunately, these views were nothing though compared to those obtained later. However, it was the only time the distinctive black and white wing and tail pattern was seen. Otherwise, all that was gleaned at this time was that it was buffish light brown overall, with paler under-parts.

Later, it was seen very well and much closer, and as such it was closely watched for a long time. It had a prominent supercilium which accentuated the capped appearance, and a dark eye-stripe and eye. It had pale fringes to the upper-parts, a streaked upper-breast, dark primaries, and long scapulars. Predictably, it had a plover-like dark bill and long dark legs.

Sociable Plover, Welney, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph credited to Peter Ewer).

Sociable Plover, Welney, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph credited to Robin Chittenden).

Great Spotted Cuckoo – Dawlish Warren Local Nature Reserve, Dawlish, Devon, 25^th March 1990

Another!! Two difficult birds in one weekend! The day after the Bonaparte’s Gull on the lake in Abbey Fields, Kenilworth in Warwickshire we took different motorways – the M25, M4 and M5 south-west from St Albans to Exeter and beyond to Dawlish and Dawlish Warren in Devon, where the object of our mission had been since Tuesday the 20th March. Why we saw the Bonaparte’s Gull on the Saturday and the Great Spotted Cuckoo on the Sunday when both were available of both days is not evident at this remove. Perhaps it was Pete Ewer’s idea of crowd management.

Once again, like the twitch the previous day, we saw very little other than our target but that was more than enough.

We watched it both feeding on the ground amongst the sand-dune vegetation, when it had an upright stance and an ambling, somewhat ponderous gait, as it picked off and devoured hairy caterpillars, and flying over the sand dunes, when, if not struggling against the wind, it had a rapid twisting flight.

It had buffy-white under-parts and collar and grey-brown upper-parts with white barring / spotting on the coverts, etc.. It also had russet primaries and a very long graduated brown tail. It had a contrasting dark brown hood (which was similarly extensive like that of the Sardinian Warbler of a few weeks earlier) which was ‘punk’ spiky.

Great Spotted Cuckoo, Dawlish Warren, Devon, March 1990 (photograph credited to Pete Wheeler).

Desert Wheatear – Barn Elms Reservoirs, London, 13^th April 1989

Having started work with ERL (now ERM) in London in early 1989, I lived for two or three weeks with Gary and Debbie Hitchen at their home in Normandy Road, St. Albans, before finding my own accommodation, a room I rented from Sue Clacher at 11 Lower Dagnall Street, St. Albans.

On the evening of Wednesday, the 13th April, whilst recuperating at ‘home’ after a hard day at work in Central London (involving commuting between St. Albans and Baker Street and Baker Street and St. Albans each day) I received a ‘phone call from Paul Pugh. The gist of his call was that there was, “A Desert Wheatear just down the road from you”. Now, I argued with him that description of ‘just down the road’ did not really apply to to Barn Elms Reservoirs (now the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust’s London Wetlands Centre) in west, central London and on the south side of the Thames, given I was outside the M25, well to the north of London.... .

However, although it was well gone 18:00 and a long way to go, in my decrepit Ford Capri, as, especially after a long day’s work, I was grateful for the news. I was though, thrown into a quandary by the dilemma that faced me, or that I was faced with...... .

All the same, I decided to go for it. Driven by nervous tension / exhilaration and / or an idiot, more by luck than judgement than anything else, I made it; I successfully navigated there completely by instinct. I also successfully parked wherever I could and then rushed to the scene whilst there was still some light.

In doing so I got good views of my quest. My abiding memory was just how this stunning looking first summer male Desert Wheatear had somehow managed to find desert in Central London; it was feeding on the disused sand and gravel filter beds adjoining the reservoirs!! Nature is just incredible.

It was a real goodie. It had a solid black tail and white rump, and the black face mask which almost connected with the black of the primaries, secondaries and coverts, and otherwise the plumage was a very pale sandy brown.

Early(?) the following evening Paul descended from Wigan having twitched / before going to twitch the Desert Wheatear, complete with a car full comprising a very young Billy Aspin, Tony Disley and Dave Broome. When they arrived at the front door of Sue’s house Paul introduced Billy and Tony as being from Blackburn, and I couldn’t resist saying in my best Mr. Angry voice, “Blackburn, Blackburn???? They can fuck right off!!!” Billy in particular looked mortified (he almost cried) and almost pleaded with me to let them stay despite he and Tony being from Bastardville..... .

Anyway, this was arranged with the very obliging Sue, and later on, they all crashed for the night in the front-room of her house. This was fine, except that during the night Dave, who always was a complete stick insect, got cold, and proceeded to attempt to pull the throw which was on one of the settees off for extra warmth. He successfully did so, except the throw was secured to the settee with safety pins, so he ended up ripping big holes in it...... . Fortunately, Sue was very patient.... .

Further Desert Wheatears (females / immature) followed in rapid order. Pete Ewer, Mike Thompson and I saw one at Selsey Bill in West Sussex a few months later in early November 1989, and then Carol Carrington and I saw one at Rossall Point near Fleetwood in Lancashire two years later (and bumped into Pete Ewer and Angela Coward there!).

I then saw a second Desert Wheatear on the Fylde in Lancashire in November when I saw a first winter male near Blackpool Airport, Blackpool in 1994. And lastly, in December 1997 or January 1998 I saw a first winter female at Musselburgh in Lothian.

After five in less than ten years, somehow they seemed to have dried up (at least for me!) since then.

Desert Wheatear, Barn Elms Reservoirs, London, April 1989 (photographs credited to Peter Ewer).

Desert Wheatear, Selsey Bill, Sussex, November 1989 (photographs credited to Peter Ewer).

Carol Carrington and Angela Ewer checking out the Desert Wheatear and/or Peter Ewer at Rossall Point, Lancashire, November 1991.

Crag Martin – Church of St. Mary and All Saints, Chesterfield, Derbyshire, 10^th November 2015

In mid-November 2015 I was committed to visiting my dad for a few days; I had planned to drive from home in Edinburgh to Chesterfield on Tuesday the 10th November. However, circumstances transpired which caused me to very rapidly bring these plans forward...... .

At midday on Sunday the 8th November the incredible news of a Crag Martin flying around the Crooked Spire in Chesterfield arrived on the pager. So, when this was still being reported the following day, the impossible seemed to potentially be becoming possible, and I opted to disappear off to Chesterfield a day before I had originally planned to do so.

Possibly due to indecision and a confusion of things to do before I departed, I had no chance of seeing the bird that day (the light would have gone by 16:00 and at the best of times it was a five-hour journey).

Therefore, I was reconciled to trusting to luck and getting there the following morning.

Being that it was in Chesterfield, a place I had known since my father had moved there in the late 1970s, I was more than aware of just where it was. As such I knew there was very limited parking nearby, or, more accurately, that any parking there was would be very expensive, especially so if the bird proved not to be co-operative.

For this reason, early the following morning (but not that early, it was mid-November!), I drove from Wingerworth to Hasland, and then along the old Hasland Road to where this had been severed by the A617 dual carriageway. Here I parked up, gathered up my gear and then walked through the under-pass under the mainline railway, to the roundabout at the start of Derby Road and from there up into the town centre along Lordsmill Street and St Mary’s Gate to the St. Mary’s Gate car-park, where a good few birders were already waiting.

I joined them for what proved to be an increasingly nervous wait. It was just gone 07:30 when I first arrived. But an hour and a half later I could not help thinking it had either demised in the night or was a very late riser (or maybe the assembled birders were too busy chatting and had missed it and it was feeding elsewhere as it had on the previous day?). Apparently it had even sullied itself by feeding (and roosting?) at the Proact Stadium..... .

The wait was a little improved by seeing various faces in the crowd that I recognised from the Scillies or wherever. It was just that they were 15 or 20 years older! I also chatted to Dave Graham, the farmer / birder from the Borders who, I think, was there with Dennis Morrison.

Anyway, eventually, it turned out it was just a late riser (not too many insects around early on a November morning in Chesterfield) as all of a sudden it was there!! We variously moved to the pavement alongside St. Mary’s Gate and the buildings opposite the church from where we could watch it twisting and turning around the Crooked Spire overhead, all whilst we were trying to be not too much of an obstacle for the more legitimate users of the pavement and not to be too much of a spectacle for those going by in cars, buses, white vans, etc. (with mixed success....... ).

It was a completely spectacular bird to watch. It was incredibly fast in flight, and also incredibly erratic – almost like a bat, switch-backing through the airspace. Fantastic!!!! I watched it for two hours or so. Another rarity in Derbyshire, to add to the Black-throated Thrush..... . But let’s not go there with rarities in Derbyshire (given my Yellow-nosed Albatross ‘near-miss’!!!). Predictably, it was a first for Derbyshire, and only the tenth for the Britain. Given the speed it moved at in flight, it was hard to get good views of some of the features including the tail spots (arm-ache was definitely a feature of this particular twitch!). It was a ‘chunky’ hirundine, which was overall grey brown but lighter on the under-parts than the upper-parts. It had a broad, square-ended tail and dark under-wing coverts.

All in all, a truly memorably twitch, in no small part due to the setting, right in the middle of Chesterfield (I watched it metres away from where Tessa had once nearly fainted as we were about to cross the zebra crossing outside the public library, for instance).

Although it remained until the 15th and therefore throughout my stay with Dad, I’d had very good views and didn’t bother going again. However, I do have a vague memory that subsequently I drove through Chesterfield past the scene whilst encouraging presumably Dad to look up out of the passenger window of my car as we drove past!

Crag Martin at the Crooked Spire, or, more formally, the Church of St. Mary and All Saints, Chesterfield, November 2015 (photograph credited to Andy Butler).

Terek Sandpiper – Stanpit Marsh Local Nature Reserve, Christchurch Harbour, Christchurch, Dorset, 16^th July 1988

Whilst I was working in Dorset and Hampshire in 1988, Birdline conveniently notified me of this goodie at the handy Stanpit Marsh on the outskirts of Christchurch, and so it was off there I went from work on the Purbeck to Southampton Pipeline on the morning of Saturday the 16th July after ‘notifying others’ (whatever that means from a distance of 36.5 years later....).

I arrived at Stanpit Marshes to be rewarded with views of this bird feeding on the margins of the islands in Christchurch Harbour, and also flying closer, alighting briefly in front of us. Good views of a good bird.

It had grey-white under-parts and grey brown upper-parts with a diagnostic black line on the scapulars. It had a long, stout, slightly upturned dark bill and medium length stout orangey-yellow legs. In flight it had a grey rump, and a paler trailing edge (and a darker leading edge to the primaries, etc.), to the wing.

Subsequently I saw the one at Kitty Brewster on the Blyth Estuary in November 1989, although it may have been later, as presumably the same bird was then there and / or nearby from January 1990 until January 1991.

Finally, and incidental to all of this, one of the accompanying images was taken by Martin Reid, who was then a birder based in Dorset. Move on less than four years, and it was Martin, having moved to Texas, who provided the excellent image of the Wandering Tattler (a first for Texas) Mike Thompson and I found at Galveston, which accompanied the description we submitted to the Texas Bird Records Committee of the Texas Ornithological Society. Small world indeed!!

Terek Sandpiper, Stanpit Marsh, Christchurch Harbour, Dorset, July 1988 (photograph credited to Martin Reid).

Terek Sandpiper, Stanpit Marsh, Christchurch Harbour, Dorset, July 1988 (photograph credited to David Cotteridge).

Siberian Accentor – Mossy Hill, near Scousburgh, South Mainland, Shetland, 10^th October 2016

So....... . October 2016. We had been in Shetland for just over a week, during which we had seen plenty, including Paddyfield Warbler, Arctic Redpoll, Siberian Thrush and White’s Thrush on Unst, and Swainson’s Thrush on Fetlar and Brown Shrike on North Mainland (and that was only the real highlights).

Saturday the 8th October involved a change of crews – in effect, we were losing Jonny Holiday and Chris Pendlebury and gaining Paul Collin and Dennis Weir.

This involved someone driving from our excellent Noosthamar (Shetland Nature Lodge) accommodation to Sumburgh and back; given that there was a potential tick for him nearby and there were new allies to make, John Nadin (until now completely reluctant to drive) volunteered.

No surprise, then, when the next day, John again commandeered the driving of the vehicle so he could influence just where we were going..... .

Amongst other things the partial change of crews meant we no longer had the instantaneous bird news updates from Twitter that Jonny and Chris provided. It was not yet clear what news sources Paul and Dennis used. As such, given that Ken had sent his RBA pager off for repair prior to the trip and then managed to drop his mobile down the toilet at the appropriately named Final Checkout shop and garage, so completely incapacitating it and the RBA app. it included, we were now even more dependent on the news updates I was able to provide; oh, and those that John was also able to provide on an erratic / eccentric basis...... .

Therefore, keeping in touch at all times was going to be even more important.

That morning, we visited the plantation near Baltasound Middle School, for old times’ sake maybe (this being where we had found the White’s Thrush the previous October). To further the nostalgia I once again thrashed through the under-storey of the stunted Sitka spruce. In doing so I managed to lose a contact lens as a branch whipped back against my face. As such, I was reduced to a one-eyed birder, which was completely rubbish.

Later, when we all returned to Noosthamar for late lunch, I was still very much less than impressed with my ill-luck, and so, after eating, without saying anything to anyone, walked up the hill to ensure I had ‘mobile reception and commence the tedious and tortuous process of struggling to locate the right number to ‘phone Boots Opticians at The Gyle in Edinburgh and then cope with the interminable ‘press x for...’ options, and manage to convey the predicament I was in and (hopefully) arrange for a new lens to be manufactured, supplied and posted out to me, so that I would have it when we briefly called in to my flat in Edinburgh en route between Shetland and the Scillies.

All a very fraught process, taking way longer than was anticipated, or desired.

As such, when the team bus suddenly appeared coming up the hill, being driven by John and loaded up with the rest of the crew, I only briefly chatted to them as they pulled up, before I simply waved them on.

Once I had finally completed my call I walked back down to Noosthamar, I casually checked Facebook. It was by this means that I was first alerted to the presence of the first Siberian Accentor for the British Isles on South Mainland Shetland..... . 

WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT????????

The news had seemingly just broken. I was already half way back down the hill to the house. I was also in a daze.

I continued back into our place and in doing so opted to use the landline there to try to contact the crew. I ‘phoned each of Amanda (as Ken ‘I have dropped my mobile down the toilet’ Shaw’s proxy), John, Paul and Dennis. In each instance, it either rang and went to voice-mail or just went to voice-mail, respectively, so I left the same basic message; “I am not sure you will get this voice-mail, but there is a Siberian Accentor on South Mainland and you need to come back to the Nature Lodge now.......!!!” Aaaargh! In desperation, I also rang Brydon Thomasson and left the same message.

Ken and Amanda had opted to walk to the Shore Station at Burrafirth, and indeed, in my dazed state I had seen them walking along the road at the head of Burrafirth towards there. But soon after two cars had travelled away from the Hermaness car-park. I could no longer see Ken and Amanda. Had they got a lift from passing birders? Was I in danger of being left behind???

I decided to set off walking to at least get out there and get mobile reception again, just in case they were trying to ‘phone me. Indeed, as I got back into reception, I got a voice-mail from Amanda telling me she had indeed got my voice-mail and they were walking back. Amusingly (or as amusingly so as was permissible in the circumstances), half way through the message, Ken had seemingly grabbed the ‘phone off her thinking she was actually speaking to me, and started shouting excitedly down the ‘phone, only for Amanda to try to explain to him she was not actually speaking to me....... .

Anyway, I walked towards the Noosthamar junction, and in doing so, intercepted Amanda coming the other way. She, in effect, told me that Ken had sent her back to base as the twitch had the potential to be, “Less than pretty”. Meanwhile, he was walking towards Haroldswick in the forlorn hope that John, Paul and Dennis would be rushing back to collect us and whisk us south for our appointment with this stonking first for Britain and Ireland on South Mainland.

I decided it would be best if Amanda and I followed Ken, and we did so, walking down to the Noosthamar junction, and then towards Haroldswick in his wake. Several times I bellowed, “Ken”, in his direction, but sadly, I am no Ken, and he didn’t hear me.

Eventually, though, he realised we were following him, having reached the Haroldswick junction and turned around, desperately wondering where the hell they were.

We quickly exchanged our stories and then decided we had no real option but to set off back. This we did, but even so, getting back long, long before they finally did.

By the time they did arrive back it was late afternoon. It quickly emerged (under interrogation 😊) that each of John, Paul and Dennis had left their mobiles on charge at base camp....... .

So, in effect, John had finally got my voice-mail only once he had finally returned..... .

With massively commendable restraint Ken and I pointed out the error of his ways to John. If he was going to commandeer (the responsibility of driving) the vehicle, certain basic responsibilities, like being in constant touch with the other crew members, came with it!!!!!!!

Typically, John flailed around and suggested, “What about them?” i.e., that he was only as culpable as Paul and Dennis. Ken and I managed not to over-react to this; basically John, one way, or the other, was the ‘senior’ member of the crew involved, having been on Unst for more than a week rather than just a day, and should have know better.

That said, we were all equally culpable in some ways – circumstances had really conspired against us what with Ken not having either his pager or his mobile and RBA app, me losing my contact lens and opting out of the afternoons' activities (so leaving the crew without their usual ‘go-to’ info source after they had set off, even if they had realised the consequences) and each of John, Paul and Dennis making the potentially fatal error of assuming mobile ‘phones were an optional extra.

It could have all ended in some very serious tears; when the news broke we could probably have still made it all the way to South Mainland in time to see it, albeit that it might have involved rubbish views in failing light. However, such views would have been better than no views at all if the bird wasn’t there the next day. After all, this was an unprecedented first for Britain and Ireland.

What followed was a fraught night; John later admitted he was feeling terrible, given that we might all miss out on this mega mega.

The following morning we departed early and successfully caught early ferries from Unst to Yell and from Yell to North Mainland.

Given the circumstances the journey went very serenely – largely thanks to Paul’s excellent driving, oh, and the positive news we got relatively early on during the journey, plus my interpreting of the RBA directions, although we did take on wrong turn when searching out the summit of Mossy Hill, as directed. However, this was a minor error, and we quickly recovered our way, and followed the correct (and marshalled!) route to the small quarries in the hillside, alongside which were some 16 vehicles and 50 or so birders.

There then followed a comparatively relaxed hour or so at the twitch with the bird generally on show as it grubbed around the rock debris and vegetation that covered the floor of the quarry. Encumbered by wearing my glasses and feeling very unsteady on my feet, I opted to take up a position looking down into the quarry from the top of one of the banks alongside side it; the quarries had been hewn into the side of the hill and the road ran diagonally along the slope at a gentle incline. Birders were in position at the entrance to the quarry and along the top of the lower bank.

From the latter location I had epic views of an epic bird which showed really well down to a few metres; a ‘scope really was optional.

In circumstances strangely / predictably reminiscent of watching a Radde’s Accentor in cool morning light on a mountainside near Demirkazik in Turkey (albeit that was a bird singing atop a scrubby bush as opposed to grubbing around a scruffy quarry) I thrilled at the scene before me. A ‘monstrous’ accentor doing its thing metres away, disappearing and reappearing amongst the rock jumble, feeding unobtrusively away, largely unconcerned by the crowds of birders metres away (apart from occasionally when the cacophony of shutters firing off shots sounded like mini-machine guns when it really performed!).

In typical accentor fashion it grubbed about feeding, memorably, at one stage, tossing leaf litter over its shoulder in a feeding action reminiscent of Turnstone.

My sketch notes made at the time suggested it was like ‘a robust Dunnock with a Shorelark head’ and it had a buffy yellow throat and supercilium, a black ‘robber’s mask’ black cap, grey hind neck and a rich brown and streaked back. I also noted it had a strong dark bill.

Siberian Accentor near Scousburgh, South Mainland, Shetland, October 2016 (photograph credited to John Nadin).

We took it in for an hour or so, then (leaving John ‘papping’ it) we went away to get some much-deserved breakfast at the airport (and, as a bonus, twitch a Buff-breasted Sandpiper from the roadside near Boddam} before returning for John, by which time it had moved to the next quarry further up the road.

All’s well that ends well, as they say. And, as I like to say, we had seen this bird when it was extremely rare, when it was a first for Britain, unlike a lot of ‘Jonny-come-latelies’. (Sorry Jonny; having left Shetland just before this mega of megas broke, fantastically, Jonny Holliday was able to catch up with the one at Spurn...... ).

Totally chilled Siberian Accentor twitchers (n.b., after the event), October 2016 (photograph credited to John Nadin).

 White-throated Robin – Hartlepool Headland, Hartlepool, Cleveland, 7^th June 2011

This is one of a sizeable batch of such accounts that was written retrospectively, several years on, after the loss of my Masked Shrike write-up due to some IT disaster completely killed my will to complete such accounts for all too long…… . However, I eventually renewed my efforts during the first part of COVID-19 lockdown.

Although, again, ‘source material’ was very limited, this was such a memorable twitch that I had somewhat more to work with; I could remember the day well.

On the morning Monday the 6th June 2011 whatever I was doing was thrown into chaos by the astounding news on the pager of a White-throated Robin at Hartlepool Headland.

The message said: “MEGA Cleveland WHITE-THROATED ROBIN Hartlepool Headland trapped + ringed + will be released shortly (not Red-flanked Bluetail) .... .” 

Apparently, the ringer involved had thought he’d seen a Red-flanked Bluetail before setting up his nets and then assumed this was the bird he subsequently extracted and bagged, before then advising Tom Francis that he had trapped a Red-flanked Bluetail. This ‘news’ was then relayed to the information services in good faith......... . It was then promptly corrected. It was 09:00.

For whatever reason I was very slow to react (I was especially busy at this time managing and undertaking bird surveys in relation to both the proposed Carcant and Cormaud wind-farms and also working various other smaller projects).

It wasn’t until much later that day, after there had been incessant updates for hours, that I began to realise that something as unobtainable as White-throated Robin might actually be attainable. By then it was too late to go to see it that day but if it was there the following day I had to go. That was it. That was the plan. I ‘phoned Kris Gibb that evening to see whether he was interested in going and he (obviously!) told me he had been there earlier that day with Dennis Morrison, and as such, in effect, thanks but no thanks. However, he volunteered that his uncle, Mike Thrower, would very much be interested in going should it still be there the following day. Kris gave me Mike’s number.

I then ‘phoned Mike and we made provisional arrangements to meet up at one of the car-parks at the Straiton Retail Park once there was any positive news on Tuesday morning. I then made the usual preparatory arrangements but otherwise carried on as normal. Or, at least, I did so as best as I could. A potentially twitchable White-throated Robin was a tad distracting.

As luck would have it, there was positive news from early on the following morning!!!! I relayed the good news to Mike, and sometime later that morning, we duly met up in the nominated car-park at the Straiton Retail Park. This all worked fine.

Now, as fellow members of the Lothian birding scene, Mike and I certainly knew each other prior to this. For example, when I had taken the girls to see a White-rumped Sandpiper at Aberlady Bay he and I had chatted. On a subsequent occasion, remembering this (and tangentially referencing his own life circumstances) Mike had urged me to look after (my relationship with) the girls. But we didn’t necessarily know each other well.

Mike is, let’s say, a character, a larger than life character. He’s a huge bloke who very definitely looks as though he’s had a life. Anyway, as I pulled into the car-park and located his (red?) car he promptly spotted me and quickly clambered into the car. More or less immediately he launched into an unwarranted explanation of his life circumstances (or aspects of it!). He explained basically that he had, “Got involved with the wrong people,” and, ‘Had ended up as a driver for gangsters in Edinburgh”. The fact that he’s huge and has a certain menace made me think there was rather more to his job description, but I didn’t pursue this. 

This was a very interesting way of starting what was to be a good few hours in the company of someone you didn’t necessarily know very well. In fairness to Mike we chatted away about all sorts subsequently. Amongst everything else Mike also told me that his partner was a legal secretary (I privately speculated about just how they might have met). He also told me that one of his grandfather’s had been a gamekeeper in the employ of Winston Churchill on his estate at Chartwell in Kent, and Churchill would ask Mike’s grandfather to row him out onto the lake whenever he needed ‘thinking’ time. Mike has certainly inherited his grandfather’s field skills – his photography of nesting birds is exceptional.

As a result of all this interesting chat, it was a good drive, taking what seemed to be no time.

Mike and I didn’t really know what to expect on arrival. He may have been told about the scenes involved by Kris on the previous day, but thankfully I think we were largely oblivious.

It subsequently emerged that the scenes during the evening on the previous day, when the bird had been eventually re-discovered in the ‘Doctor’s Garden’ were right up there with those in the Larkfield, near Maidstone on the Saturday of the Golden-winged Warbler twitch. After having been ringed and processed it was released at the bowling green, where, at first, it was well-behaved and provided the ever increasing number of birders good views. However, it became less cooperative later on, when it frequently departed the bowling green area into the adjacent high walled allotments, and irregularly returned. It then disappeared when a bowling match started. Eventually, it was successfully re-located in the high-walled garden of Dr Reece. There was no access as the doctor was away from home, and enterprising locals provided ladders and vans, etc., to enable birders to see into the garden...... . Incredible.

Fortunately, the next day, soon after we arrived we discovered that there was access to the Doctor’s Garden as he had returned home. We gratefully queued up, and (via the garage I think?) entered and parted with whatever was the suggested fee for the privilege. This allowed us into the back garden where we were easily able to enjoy good views in much better circumstances than the previous day.

Throughout our stay the bird could be watched as it fed unobtrusively in the opposite corner of the large garden. There were just the right number of birders allowed in at any one time and (as the bird was constantly on show and we were in someone’s private garden perhaps) everyone was well behaved.

It was a bit like a Nightingale in size and shape whilst also appearing pot-bellied and long-tailed. When feeding it was invariably on the ground, running and then stopping, often with its tail cocked. Its upper-parts were a largely concolourous brownish grey. The under-parts were paler, off-white in general with the exception of an orange flush on the flanks (like Red-flanked Bluetail) and a greyer upper breast. The chin and under-tail coverts were white. There was a very indistinct supercilium, and the ear coverts were warm brown. There was a faint eye-ring around the dark eye, and the bill and legs were dark. The bill was quite heavy.

Truly excellent!!! And we had twitched it in style, after the chaotic scenes later on the first day. Mike and I certainly had plenty to talk about on the journey home too.

This was the third record for the UK and the first twitchable one. Interestingly, the first was on the Calf of Man on the 22nd June 1983. I had been touted as a potential assistant warden for the Calf of Man by Mike Wareing at the BTO Ringers’ and / or Annual Conferences the previous autumn and winter. I’d had some dialogue with the then Warden, Adrian del Nevo, regarding the same, partly due to my vague Isle of Man connections given my visit there to help John Nuttall with doing some building work before doing some birding in the autumn after graduating university in 1982, and then my visits to see Lilian and Joyce there after John had sadly died. I could have been in on a first for the UK (although Ken is always very dismissive of this record..... ).

White-throated Robin at Hartlepool Headland, Hartlepool, Cleveland, June 2011 (photograph credited to Mark Coates).

Wonderful field sketches of the White-throated Robin at Hartlepool Headland by Stephanie Thorpe.