Tree Swallow – Porthellick, St. Mary's, Scillies, Cornwall, 9^th June 1990

Hurray!! Another tick – after an epic twitch – again a ferry journey was necessary to get us there. There wasn’t, perhaps, the anticipation of the Pallas’s Sandgrouse (owing to tiredness and drowsiness due to both pain-killing and sea-sickness pills!). Also, it was an instantaneous decision, without any time to consider dipping.

Pete, Mike and I had driven from St. Albans to Penzance between 19:30 on the evening of Friday the 8th June and 02:30 on the early morning of the following day. We then ‘slept’ in the car before getting the Scillonian to Hugh Town on St. Marys.

During the crossing I was ill.

All not helped by the fact that I had an as yet undiagnosed broken wrist..... .

What? You want the full story? The full, unexpurgated story....?

Right. So. Working for Bechtel on the Shell North West Ethylene Pipeline Project meant that I was reunited with Nick Smith (who had been the BP Environmental Officer on the Purbeck to Southampton Pipeline) and Dave Maynard (who had been one of the BP Archaeologists on the same project); I had been the Environmental Officer for the pipeline construction contractor, Press Pipelines, and as such worked ‘opposite’ the two of them.

Now, we were working together. This was brilliant, as we all got on very well. The week I returned back to work, having been trapped on Fair Isle by weather which prevented flights (hell, eh, being trapped on Fair Isle in early June??) ended on Friday the 8th June. There was something of a liquid lunch culture at Bechtel on Fridays. This, combined with the fact that it was Nick’s birthday and the fact that we all got on very well meant that we did six pints of Guinness each (two rounds of three pints each – simples). This wouldn’t have been a problem but.............. .

A few days earlier the rather stupendous news of the Ancient Murrelet on Lundy had broken. Paul, fair play to him, had somehow chartered a fishing boat to take us to Lundy from Ilfracombe, and so after ‘work’ I was rushing home from the Bechtel offices in The Strand in Central London to get ready to drive to North Devon with Pete and Mike....... .

Or that was the plan. I’m not even sure we returned back to work that afternoon, but presumably we did, as I travelled home with my briefcase, and probably hadn’t taken that to the pub.

Anyway, I left the office and rushed to the tube station to take a Circle or District Line train from Embankment to Blackfriars, as ‘normal’. Except it wasn’t as ‘normal’..... . I rushed more than ‘normal’ (I had an appointment with a fantastic bird, a first for the Western Palaearctic!) and I was pissed. This was a fatal combination. For reasons that are unclear my route took me down the steps between The Strand and Victoria Embankment. Now, as I rushed I might well have still tripped anyway, but as I rushed whilst pissed, and then tripped, I fell headlong down the steps.... .

I put my left hand out to break my fall. This worked. Of sorts. My briefcase was in my right hand and was damaged as I, and it, crashed to the ground. There I lay, spread-eagled, suited and booted, and (still) pissed.... . This being London, no one offered any sort of help; I vaguely remember people stepping around me with evident disgust (no doubt thinking to themselves, “Oh, my God! He’s drunk”).

Anyway, I gathered myself and my briefcase up, and continued, nay (yep, you’ve got it) rushed to the tube station and caught a tube to Blackfriars, and from there a Thameslink train back to St. Albans. All in all, although my wrist hurt like fuck quite a lot I was of the opinion it could have been worse and anyway, I just had to get home so I could get my gear together and we could meet up and drive off to North Devon.

Now, I’m not sure at what stage our plans changed, but in these pre-mobile days, it may have been that I had a voicemail message or a call from Paul once I arrived home. Anyway, in summary, the twitch to Lundy was off, as the weather / shipping forecast wasn’t good and so the fishing boat wasn’t going to be going.

However, this meant that Plan B had instantly kicked in. A Tree Swallow (another first for the Western Palaearctic) had been identified at Porthellick on St. Mary’s on Wednesday the 6th June, and was still around. Hence we drove overnight to Penzance in south-west Cornwall rather than to Ilfracombe in north Devon. At the same time, birders from all over the UK were doing the same..... .

Me, with my very painful left wrist. Hence me not sleeping very well in the car, once we were in Penzance. Hence me not feeling very well on the Scillonian, during what was a pleasant enough crossing.

We’d met up with Paul and others in Penzance that morning; as suggested, he and many other birders had driven through the night to be there in time for the sailing of the Scillonian.

Feeling rough, I prepared as best as I could for the crossing. Sea-sickness pills always make me incredibly thirsty. I’m not sure I was up for a full cooked breakfast or whatever, but I did have a small carton of Ribena to combat the thirst. Who knows? Maybe I hadn’t imbibed much else (other than various pills!) since those six pints of Guinness. Anyway, later, whilst we were sea-watching from the decks of the Scillonian I began to feel queasy, and then very queasy and then...... .

I chundered over the handrail of the Scillonian, but there was nothing to throw up except various bodily liquids and Ribena. As a result, this purplish amorphous shape floated around in the air currents created by the movement of the ship. It hovered about like an apparition, as though it was deciding who to crash land on, before thankfully dissipating and drifting down to the sea below and behind the Scillonian. Too much detail, but it was very funny, or so I was told. Maybe you had to be there? Oh, wait! I was, at least in ......... .

Anyway, once the Scillonian had moored in Hugh Town we disembarked and yomped all the way to Porthellick like an invading (but very ill-disciplined, straggling) army.

Despite everything, we, and more to the point, I, got there, we got to Porthellick. We were met by the sight of a huge gallery of c.500 birders. And the star act. It was a fantastic performer, most memorably watched as it hawked for insects over Porthellick Bay, where I watched it from close to the monument to Sir Cloudesley Shovell... . The assembled birders obviously vied for suitable places from which to watch. As a result I watched at one stage from a location at which I was stood on Hottentot Fig that dominates the upper reaches of many sandy beaches in the Scillies.

..... when a passing local woman told me off for standing on the pretty flowers, I gave her VERY short shrift. (“What, you mean this invasive non-native plant???” FFS!!!).

Anyway, where was I? Aaaah, yes, the bird!!! It was like a House Martin x Swallow hybrid on steroids. It was a very bulky martin; the broad wings, the often fanned tail and the stocky body all combined to give the bird a distinctive jizz. The shape was almost reminiscent of Starling at times. It was both very rapid and very fluid in flight. The under-parts – the throat, breast, vent and under-tail coverts were a very brilliant white. The upper-parts (and also the under-side of the wings and tail) were generally blue black. However, the back, rump and head were suffused with a vivid blue-green. In certain lights the remiges and retrices looked greyer.

My notebook indicates that whilst on St. Marys I also saw an immature Night Heron which was also at Porthellick and a Ring-billed Gull which was on the Porthcressa Beach.

All I know is that having seen the bird I walked back towards Hugh Town and went to the hospital about my wrist (I got my priorities right, obviously). When, eventually, I saw a doctor he told me to rest my elbow on his desk and give him my hand, which I did. He vigorously waggled it around and pronounced that my wrist was just badly sprained. He advised me that if it was still causing me pain in a few weeks I should go to see my own doctor. I think he was sick of visiting birders and holidaymakers using the scarce resources of the hospital on St. Marys.........

Cutting a long story short, when, several weeks later, I did finally go to see my doctor he more or less instantly diagnosed a broken wrist. But I’d seen Tree Swallow...... .

Tree Swallow, Porthellick, St. Mary's,  Isles of Scilly, June 1990 (photograph credited to David Cotteridge).

Tree Swallow, Porthellick, St. Mary's,  Isles of Scilly, June 1990 (photograph credited to  Robin Chittenden).

Tree Swallow, Porthellick, St. Mary's,  Isles of Scilly, June 1990 (photograph credited to Robin Chittenden).

Glossy Ibis – Stodmarsh National Nature Reserve, near Canterbury, Kent, 10^th November 1988

So. Alison Bunting and I decided to twitch the long-staying Glossy Ibis which regularly roosted at Stodmarsh.

We travelled from Dorset to Kent to do so on Thursday the 10th November 1988.

We arrived early. I only expected a brief fly-over view at dusk. I was concerned about it being very bad light at dusk, allowing only a very poor view, as it came in during an anticipated 16:00 to 16:40 ‘window’ after a long vigil.

So, when during our walk to the best viewing location we jammed into the bird at only 15:05 (also seeing Hen Harrier but not seeing Isabelline Shrike) I was very happy. As we worked our way back along the causeway flanked by reed-beds on both sides we were attracted to something happening by the presence of two Carrion Crows overhead. I suspected they had been mobbing it as it flew in off the rough pasture area to the south.

When we got on it, it was already dropping in to a lagoon surrounded by reed-beds. It was still reasonably good light (well not too bad!); certainly, we would have probably missed it otherwise. We watched as it dramatically, extrovertly ‘whiffled’ in to roost like a goose, before landing in full view on the edge of the reed-bed. Here it preened, stretched and moved about, giving excellent views.

The long thin neck, and relatively large rounded head and, obviously, a long down-curved bill were all evident in flight.

It was like a black egret in size and shape at rest, apart from the long down-curved bill, which was thick at the base, tapered and kinked.

Subsequently, at long time later I saw one south of Kinross in March 2014 and several together on Fair Isle in October 2017.

Lastly, I should perhaps just indicate that in the late 1980s Glossy Ibis was still a genuine 'rare', hence twitching the long-staying Stodmarsh bird from Dorset. Ignoring the 'many' records prior to 1957 when the Rarities Committee came into being, there had been just 40 records between 1958 and 1987, and there were just two records in 1988, including the Stodmarsh bird. Indeed, the 1988 Rare Birds in Great Britain report noted that the species "(Range is almost cosmopolitan, nearest breeders in the Balkans) Still a few odd ones appear in odd places; the severe decline in Europe has led to speculation that 'our' birds may be from the Nearctic".

However, despite droughts and climate change the species successfully re-colonised Iberia and numbers boomed, and it is believed that it is from here that most records in Great Britain now emanate.

Glossy Ibis, Stodmarsh, Kent, November 1988 (photograph credited to Tim Loseby).

 American Coot – Stodmarsh National Nature Reserve, near Canterbury, Kent, 20^th April 1996

Yet another superb plus, during an unbelievable first few months of 1996. It – the news – broke on the night of Tuesday the 16th April, when I was out with Steve Boothroyd and the pipeline archaeologists, Susan and Bridget. Only after completing the weeks work, oh, and taking in the two Harlequins near Girvan, Ayrshire on the Wednesday, did I take the decision to go for it. Gilly had succumbed to the inevitable, and had offered me the prospect of a long-distance twitch to Kent. I was not enthused all the same, given the distances involved. My various schemes were all thwarted. Paul Pugh had commitments and to travel by any indirect means (with others) would reduce the already short length of the weekend, given the length of a journey to Kent and back.

I was, as a consequence, very indecisive about the whole deal. What to do?

After a couple of meetings on the Friday, I was faced with trying to do a meeting note under the pressure of knowing I really had to go. I cracked, as it was a very nice day, and headed off on what proved to be a perfectly reasonable, no hassle journey to St. Albans, taking just six hours from midday.

As the bird was fairly settled there seemed little urgency, so after a St. Albans night, Mike Thompson, Susie Pearson and I travelled to Stodmarsh, arriving at c.11:00. Greeted by moderate congestion and alternative car-parking arrangements, I was concerned about crowds. Mike had already twitched it earlier in the week, and so, compared to me, was very chilled.

Walking along the Lampen Wall we were confronted by a crowd of 50 or so looking at the bird as it did its’ thing at the junction of the ditches in the reedbed alongside. Always within 50 m and sometimes less than 10 m away it always gave stunning views, complete with nearby Bearded Tits. Strangest circumstances – first for Britain, so close, whilst a relaxed gallery took it in, chatted, purchased photographs, etc.. Oh, and seemingly, there was a Green-winged Teal on view as well, my first, but I have no recollection this whatsoever.

Overall like Coot in general appearance, but it was immediately obvious due to small bill as the (bald) plate was absent. Perhaps slightly smaller than Coot, and yes, the Moorhen x Coot analogy is good. The bill was a strange affair, with a fine, dark sub-terminal band, and a ‘blood blister’ at top of it. Its plumage was dark grey-black, apparent from off-white undertail covert patches.

As I say, all incredibly chilled for a 'first for' the UK. That said, in early 2014 I saw my second in the UK at Loch Flemington, Highland, and other than me, there was no one there, although by then there had been other Scottish records and the bird involved had been around for a good while.

As twitches of 'firsts for' Britain go, this has to be the most chilled ever, though admittedly it had been on constant show for a few days by the time I got there..... .

American Coot, Stodmarsh, Kent, April 1996 (photograph credited to unknown).

Long-tailed Shrike – Howmore, South Uist, Outer Hebrides, 4^th November 2000

My attempt at capturing the Long-tailed Shrike at Howmore, South Uist, Outer Hebrides, in November 2000. I remember being very struck by the peachy-orange lower back as it had a particularly vivid appearance in the light conditions. Unfortunately, the bird confined itself to the deep cover of a willow bush for much of the time.

News of a Long-tailed Shrike (a what?) reached me thanks to my loan pager, whilst I was on the ‘phone to the insurance company regarding the insurance payment for my lost pager on the 3rd November. Bizarrely, I was just explaining what the pager was for to the woman at Directline I was speaking to when the news of this mega, mega came through! I quickly curtailed the conversation and instead ‘phoned Graham Clark, who predictably, was about to ‘phone me.

Graham indicated that he was 90% certain he would be able to go for it and would know for definite at around 16:00, and that he would ‘phone me back after a meeting, having liaised with Christine on the matter. I agreed, in the meanwhile, to research ferry times and so on. I did this and discovered that we would have to travel overnight to be at Uig in time for the Saturday morning ferry, and then we wouldn’t be able to get a ferry back until the following Monday. Memories of my aborted Veery twitch! Less than normal telephone conversations continued during the process of booking the ferry, when first the man I spoke to at the Caledonian MacBrayne offices at Uig regarding sailing times and then the woman I spoke to at the Caledonian MacBrayne offices at Gourock who both were touchingly and genuinely interested in the purpose of the trip and the bird involved.

When I spoke to Graham again, he was up for this and we agreed that he would get to my house by about 21:00, after which we would set off so that we could get at least some sleep in the car, before getting up on Saturday morning for the ferry.

The drive went very well, and for variation we went via the M9, A84, A85, and A82 to Fort William rather than the more traditional M90, A9 and A86 to Spean Bridge, but it still took about five hours to get to Uig (I apparently strained one of my eyes during the latter stages of the drive, which gave me horrendous vision problems of the Saturday, but thankfully after I had seen the bird). Graham was able to get some sleep during the journey, and we both were able to get more sleep once we arrived at Uig. We had parked up around the back of one of the quayside buildings, and on emerging realised (unsurprisingly) we were no longer the only birders there. Although it had taken us five hours it had obviously taken others from down south much longer. We were no longer at the head of the queue having disappeared around the back of the quayside buildings on arrival, but this didn’t matter once we had confirmed our booking.

There must have been some 20 – 25 birders cars waiting for the ferry, and amongst the birders waiting were some very familiar faces. Amongst these were Richard Millington, Steve Gantlett and Ron Johns, and they were soon able to confirm that the bird was still present, which greatly contributed to the pre-twitch atmosphere.

Graham soon located some twitching colleagues from way back when, and besides talking to them we also were able to enjoy chatting to others including Calum Scott, Angus Murray, etc.. I also was surprised to find that Graham Ekins, the Wildlife Inspector from Essex (who I had seen at the Royal Tern and Swinhoe’s Petrel twitches) was there together with his crew. Whilst chatting to him it emerged that they had been for the Hooded Merganser the previous weekend, and this weekend they were chartering a fishing boat in an attempt to ensure that they could successfully twitch the bird without being trapped on the Uists for the weekend. This seemed like a good idea until we all saw the boat in question…. .

Anyway, soon after they had boarded their charter we were loaded on to the ferry. Once we had sailed, besides watching large concentrations of Kittiwakes and auks we were amused by seeing their tiny fishing boat bouncing up and down through the breaking waves. We sailed about 15 minutes after they did, and within 15 minutes we had overhauled them……! Happy sailing!

We soon opted for the full breakfast rather more sea-watching. Once we berthed at Lochmaddy we were amused to find that we were one of the very first vehicles to be disembarked. However, on the journey south to South Uist I refused to enter into the Grand Prix style racing to Howmore, in the knowledge that the bird was going to be there.

After some 40 minutes driving, we arrived at the scene of the twitch, which was basically adjacent to a scruffy coach hire company’s garage complex on either side of the A865, near the Post Office and a couple of crofts which apparently comprised Howmore. We parked up where most birders had parked on one side of the road and then assembled our gear before strolling across the road. Derelict buses and coaches and parts of the same littered the area around the garage yard on both sides of the road. Adjacent to the large garage shed on the opposite side of the road were three small willow sp. bushes adjoining a post and wire fence, and overlooked by the road and the small hump that the Post Office and further derelict buses and coaches occupied. Birders positioned themselves in locations from which they could ‘scope these bushes and we did the same, as it was apparent ‘it’ was in these bushes.

Indeed, it was, but it was never ‘obvious’ in the way that might be associated with a shrike. Rather it was unusually ‘skulking’ for shrike, invariably sheltering low and still in one of the three willow shrub bushes, and occasionally returning to a larder which appeared to comprise a mouse spp. which was impaled amongst the branches in the centre of one of the willows to vigorously feed.

Given this, and the fact that the bushes were still in leaf, it was usually picked out as a result of the peachy brown breast or lower wings.

Over the course of two hours or so it was well-watched, but unfortunately it was largely inanimate throughout this time. As a result, although it was a stunning bird, perhaps what will remain in the memory about the twitch was the sight of an adult White-tailed Eagle Graham and I picked up on whilst scanning the hill behind Howmore (which had also produced ringtail Hen Harrier and Peregrine), circling against a brilliant blue sky above the twitch before defecating in a big way!

We left to go birding elsewhere and returned towards late afternoon when the bird was slightly more active as we watched it from alongside the garage shed.

The following day it emerged that the bird had departed overnight, and then it became apparent why it had been so inactive during the day apart from feeding vigorously on its larder. There were theories that the bird had moved on due to the fireworks displays around the island that night, but as it was a perfectly clear night with low temperatures perhaps this wasn’t too surprising and due to natural migration instincts kicking in. As a result of its absence on the Sunday we were probably the last people to see it.

The bird was a typical shrike excepting the extraordinarily long tail, which was as long again as the birds’ body and head. Although it was bigger than Red-backed, Isabelline (I wrote this a long time ago!) or Lesser Grey Shrike it was smaller than Great Grey Shrike. The birds’ plumage was basically a subtle combination of that that might be associated with a grey shrike spp. and a Red-backed or Isabelline Shrike.

The black eye was surrounded by a black mask, which was flared at the rear beyond the ear-coverts and reached the bill at the lores. Above this was a thin whitish edge separating the mask from the cap, which was grey with a hint of brownish grey. The bill was typical of a shrike and was black with the inner part of both mandibles becoming grey and the base of the lower mandible being pale yellow. The throat and sides of the neck were off-white.

The lower back was a ‘brilliant’ peachy-orange and the flanks were a similar colour. The breast was not as vivid and merged into a whitish colour centrally and on the throat and belly, vent, etc.. The tertials, etc., were mid olive brown with pale fringes.

The combination of the head pattern and the brownish lower back was reminiscent of male Penduline Tit, whilst the colour of the flanks was reminiscent of Brambling.

Long-tailed Shrike, Howmore, South Uist, Outer Hebrides, November 2000 (image credited to Paul Hackett).

 Pallas’s Sandgrouse – Loch of Hillwell, Mainland, Shetland, 27^th May 1990

My original sketch drawing of the Pallas's Sandgrouse, which accompanied the original write up of this account, now (horrible word) 'colourised', attempting to capture the bird in the simmer dim light conditions.

The most epic twitch trip of all time; involving two eight hour ferry trips to get to Shetland, followed by a manic drive from Lerwick to South Mainland. Dave McAleavy and I were in the middle of our ‘Scottish specialities’ trip, which included seeing various Scottish specialities such as Chequered Skipper, Capercaillie and King Eider on mainland Scotland before continuing on to Shetland, where our trip would ultimately culminate with visiting Fair Isle and staying at the Bird Observatory. Fair Isle Bird Observatory in late May / early June, had, necessarily, been booked some while previously.....!!

As a result, we fortuitously also saw the Pallas’s Sandgrouse on Sunday the 27th May, by which time it had been around for eight days; it had been around since Saturday the 19th May!

The full story is as follows.

Dave and I had commenced our trip during the preceding week; I had recently finished work at ERL and started work at Bechtel on my return, on the 4th June, and ‘doing Scotland’ between times had been planned for some weeks. On the evening of Wednesday, the 23rd May(?) I travelled by train from Luton to Chesterfield, having been seen off by Elizabeth following her visit to St. Albans. I was still in the process of organising all that was necessary in terms of my newly created limited company which was essential to enable me to work on the Shell North West Eythlene Pipeline Project, and so Dad had arranged a meeting with Martin Bruno Accountants in Chesterfield for me on the morning of Thursday the 24th May. After this I presumably travelled by train to Wigan to meet up with Dave...... .

Having driven to Scotland late on the Thursday, we had slept (or not) in Dave’s car at Braco, seeing Black Grouse and Osprey early the following morning, before continuing on to Loch Arkaig for Chequered Skipper. We then continued on by driving to Speyside, where eventually we again slept (or not) in Dave’s car at Forest Lodge before finally seeing Capercaillie the following morning, that of Saturday the 26th May. Later that day (we’d again had a very early start!) we continued our successes by seeing King Eider at the Ythan estuary before catching the ferry from Aberdeen to Stromness. That’s right. Stromness. In Orkney.

For some reason lost in the mists of time the route we took from Aberdeen to Lerwick was via Stromness so, having arrived in Stromness in the evening, we ventured into town and attempted to watch International Friendly football matches in the Stromness Hotel. We hadn’t quite planned for an overnight stay in Orkney, so we sneaked back onto the ferry and found somewhere to crash out on board; we were shattered after two very early starts and two very long days. And we’d only just begun!

The following morning, as alluded to in the Gyr Falcon account, we twiddled our thumbs in Stromness just waiting for the ferry to eventually sail for Lerwick. When we finally departed, we were casually standing on deck and admiring the mightily impressive Old Man of Hoy as we sailed past it. Then someone remarked, “There’s been a Gyr Falcon up there...”. D’oh! Frantic scanning ensued, to no avail. Worse, we would have had time to get there earlier that morning, if only we had known about it!

Anyway, it was possibly about now that we also found out about the Pallas’s Sandgrouse. It was pre-pager days, and I’d not exactly had lots of time to pump coins into a payphone to listen to the Birdline message. And anyway, even if I had know it was there soon after it was discovered during a bird race on Saturday the 19th May, it wasn’t going to stay around for a week or more was it?

Dave tells me that once we got to Lerwick at 20:00 on the evening of Sunday the 27th May, I did indeed feed a payphone with coins and then returned to him ashen-faced saying it was still there and that we had to hire a car that night..... !!!!!!

Now, we weren’t twitching it as such, as we had planned our visit to Shetland for weeks before, but within minutes of arriving in Lerwick we were twitching it!

Bolt’s hire car duly sourced, there followed a drive ‘of confusion and tension’ as my notes put it. In a convoy with other birders who had been on the ferry we arrived in the vicinity but then couldn’t find the bird at all, despite frenetic chasing about. Probably to try to maintain some sort of cool, I withdrew to view from afar the antics of the birders. Anyway, our intrepid fellow travellers located, or rather, were directed to, their object of desire. Although by now it was 22:00 the light was still reasonable (thank fuck for the simmer dim……..).

However, the bird was not very active, to put it mildly. Initially, it was resting head on, in a stubble field. At this time I noted that an analogy would be Grey Partridge x female Pheasant as all that was viewable was the orange looking head and strongly barred sandy buff upperparts. However, seemingly realising our plight, this star bird first preened, then wandered around, confronted a rabbit, flapped its wings and then returned to its previous, inactive, mode. 

Needless to say, we were back for more the following night, having been to Hermaness on Unst and back...... .

Pallas's Sandgrouse, South Mainland, Shetland, May 1990 , 'live' at the scene, indicating the simmer dim light conditions, if nothing else (photograph credited to Dave McAleavy)

Pallas's Sandgrouse, South Mainland, Shetland, May 1990  (photograph credited to Robin Chittenden).

Pallas's Sandgrouse, South Mainland, Shetland, May 1990 (photograph credited to Robin Chittenden).