Ovenbird – Trenowath, St Marys, Isles of Scilly, 25^th October 2004

And there, unobtrusively walking about amongst the pine needle and dead bracken litter, was this stonker!

Wow, wow and triple wow! It was the day after the resounding success of my twitch for cream-coloured courser with Elizabeth (the erstwhile love of my life, with whom I was briefly(?) reunited in the noughties). We were in the throes of starting the second phase of our idyllic exploration of the Scillies (eh?) with a day out on St. Agnes. I’d opted for St. Agnes for our ‘day’ out, as it was my favourite island, and offered the option of the wonderful Turks Head (as Elizabeth had a proposal to work on).

Suddenly, as we sorted out the option of her working on her proposal in the back room of the Turks Head (basically I arranged for the bar man to keep her supplied with hot chocolates with brandy in them), the pager went ballistic with the stunning news of an Ovenbird back on St. Mary's from whence we had just come.....!!!!!!!!!

I rushed down to the quay and found various other birders already there, in various states of panic. I was already philosophical about it in advance of any potential disappointment. All the same, the wait for the boat seemed interminable; I returned to make sure Elizabeth was alright during the wait. However, the boat did finally arrive after some 30 minutes, and a reasonably full boatload made its way back to St. Mary’s. The chattering was of an excited variety, and plans were being made for transport up to Trenowarth.

Once at the St. Mary’s harbour wall we quickly disembarked, and as there was a mini-bus waiting nearby, I walked over to it. I was aware that it had probably been pre-booked by birders, but as most were already yomping down the quay and into Hugh Town, I thought it was worth a try. My hunch paid off, as quickly six other birders appeared, and although the driver said he could take six, and I was the odd one out, space was found for me, squatting in the footwell...... .

So. we were soon journeying up through Hugh Town, and past the desperate straggle of birders, and we were quickly and efficiently dropped at the bulb farm, and all for a pound! From the point at which we were deposited, we had a short walk along muddy tracks through the pine shelterbelts to the scene of the twitch. Here there was a group of c.45 birders looking along a narrow path through the bracken towards another, smaller, group of birders. I found a venue, but the whole scenario looked and sounded distinctly unpromising. Apparently three people had seen the bird, one of whom was Will Wagstaffe, who had been asked by the couple who had found it to check it out…… . Apparently, it had walked seaward across the path in front of them, and then once Will had joined them, it had walked back landward across the path. The chances of it doing this again were minimal, and even if it did so, the chances of seeing it were very, very minimal, giving the viewing conditions. As such, the atmosphere of the twitch wasn’t really one of excited anticipation, rather it was one of disappointed realisation.

A fantastic photograph of the scenes early on during the Ovenbird twitch, with yours truly visible in the bright blue Berghaus jacket below the left-hand person standing in the pine tree, Trenowarth, St. Mary's, Scilly, October 2004 (photograph credited to unknown).

After some while, in response, Dick Filby and Will Wagstaffe, plus A. N. Other, organised themselves into a controlled flushing team, and walked ‘the bird’ up towards the path through the bracken ............. with no effect. However, Dick Filby was annoyed by the subsequent rising noise from the main gallery, and asserted that they had possibly got something in the scrub on the opposite side of the track, and suggested we keep quiet. However, nothing came of this, and with that, some birders began to drift away. As the twitch broke up, I (and others) considered it legitimate to go looking. I opted to investigate the aforementioned scrub rather than stand around forlornly, as most others did. By walking a short distance, I was easily able to get on the seaward side of the pine shelterbelt, and then into it, along a very minor ‘desire line’ and towards the same scrub area. This area looked really good, to the extent that it evoked memories of Boy Scout Wood, High Island, Texas, where I had last seen ovenbird. I eventually had a fleeting glimpse of what I considered to be a likely suspect, all the more so after I eventually saw the bird in this precise location......... .

I spent some time checking out this area, and whilst doing so I was conscious that I was possibly annoying the still assembled ranks of birders in the gallery I could see through the scrub. I was particularly aware of this when Elizabeth ‘phoned. She was very disappointed on my behalf when she heard that I had failed on my mission, and consoled me beautifully, although I was still phlegmatic....... .

No sooner had we ended our conversation that a shout went up from near to where the other gallery had been, and I and everyone else stampeded towards this point. I arrived in good time and was able to join the people who had re-located the bird and get their directions first hand. It had appeared in front of them on another path through the young pines, and promptly walked into the scrub. Despite the crashing arrival of some 50 birders in its vicinity, it didn’t immediately flush, although it was difficult to believe that it was still around.

Suddenly though, it did appear, when it flew up onto some low branches of the young pines, where it perched in full view for a few seconds. I got on it before it then flew away from its audience, and quickly back down into the cover of the young pines and bracken under-storey. This was to prove an oft-repeated pattern, and each time the gallery quickly, and relatively quietly, dispersed and reassembled around the bird in any location from which it might be visible. As a result, I, and everyone else had spates of nervous anticipation as we waited for the bird to be re-located and tried to decide from where best to try to see the bird. Given the cover, and the dense ground cover, it was very difficult to see as it walked around unobtrusively amongst the bracken and bramble. Each time the gallery re-assembled in an approximation of a circle, some c.50m in diameter, and sometimes much less, as quietly as possible given the dead branches and bracken. The bird was generally surprisingly unflustered by all of this, and again generally the crowds remained reasonably calm. Successively, then I got better and better views, on two occasions with just a very few metres of me. This happened on a least five or six occasions, and typically each time I was able to get reasonably good views under very difficult viewing conditions before the bird decided to move on. Most memorably, on one occasion it walked towards me to within 2 – 3m and I was able to get others onto it as it moved backwards and forwards behind the trunk of a small pine. And then, best of all, in similar circumstances, I was, with some considerable difficulty, able to get Mushtaq Ahmed on it as it walked towards us where we were lying amongst the bracken in front of the gallery. This was indicative of just how difficult it was to see the bird, as here was a very experienced birder, lying within a metre of me, and despite all my efforts and what I thought were good directions, he really struggled to get on it. Too often, the temptation was be looking too far way, whilst it walked around, unconcernedly, in the foreground. As a result, I suggested to Elizabeth when she rang that it wouldn’t be worth coming up to see it as I thought it would be too difficult for her to see. This was something I regretted, as she could have seen it, and I now she regretted it too.

No, I can't see it either (but it gives an idea of what we were contending with.

The Ovenbird blended in to its’ surroundings incredibly well, due to the combination of the subdued light and its’ unobtrusive behaviour and subtle plumage. Earlier on in the twitch a pipit spp. had flown over the galleries calling and it had landed in the top of a small pine nearby. This was, on the basis of the call, a tree pipit, I thought, although coincidentally or not there was a small olive-backed pipit twitch soon after the ovenbird twitch first broke up. This is mentioned in that this was perhaps the most obviously analogy with the ovenbird; certainly, this ovenbird was reminiscent of the olive-backed pipit I had seen in Holkham Pines many years ago in the way it grovelled around.

This analogy is based on not just the general plumage, but also its behaviour. It was possibly rock pipit in size, although it had a shorter tail. Its stance was similar too, although it was more horizontal in its carriage. The upperparts were overall a greeny olive-brown, and the under-parts a cold off-white with heavy broad streaks on the upper breast fading out on the flanks. The head pattern was very distinctive, with a pale and wide eye-ring surrounding a large dark eye, a hint of a supercilium, and a thin dark brown lateral crown stripe picking out an indistinct orangey-brown central crown stripe. The sub-moustachial stripe was the same off-white colour as the breast, and the chin and throat were unmarked. The bill was surprisingly heavy – Dunnock-like, and was a browny-grey, with a paler pinkish base, particularly to the lower mandible. The legs were pinkish. It was predominately seen on the ground, but was also seen in flight, when again the pipit analogy was reasonable. It was not definitely heard to call.

All in all, a f***ing magic bird, and a magic twitch, especially following on from the successes of the cream-coloured courser twitch. Indeed, within half an hour of leaving the scene of the ovenbird twitch, having just had my best views when it perched up in full view in my secret prime spot, in a way reminiscent of the hermit thrush, I was again watching the cream-coloured courser. Where else could I do this but the Scillies? It was just a shame that both birds both died soon afterwards.

Ovenbird, Trenowarth, St. Mary's, Scilly, October 2004 (photograph credited to Steve Nuttall).

 Great Knot – Brann Sands, Teesmouth, Cleveland, 3^rd November 1996

Great Knot, at an always very windy Brann Sands, Teesmouth, Cleveland, November 1996 

The Story of my twitch of the 'Great Dot'* (or not). 

At last! Having been in the Scillies when this turned up (provoking memories and responses reminiscent of 1989 when the red-breasted nuthatch turned up whilst birders were in the Scillies) I had to wait until Sunday the 27th October before I could attempt to take it in. Gilly and I travelled to Tees-side from Accrington, but apparently missed it by 20 minutes from the Seaton Snook jetty, where we suffered the windy, gritty and grotty viewing conditions, made even worse by the lack of a ‘scope and blurry binoculars. (Why I hadn't got my 'scope I cannot recollect, but I suspect this relates to when I had to get my old Optolyth TSB80 mended after jumping off a wall at the Pechora pipit twitch at St. Levan, in West Cornwall, and inadvertently putting my foot through the hanging shoulder strap as I jumped, so propelling the 'scope into the tarmac of the road as I landed..... . Why my binoculars were blurry is lost in the midst of time). But I re-acquainted myself with Peter Hornby from Burnley..... .

Once it became apparent that it was not going to reappear from the jetty we tried from the hide overlooking the south-west corner of Seals Sands, as well as from the seawall further east, before giving up, dejected.

The following Sunday the 3rd November I returned alone, setting off at 07:30 and arriving at the Zinc Works Road at just after 10:00 hours – superb progress. However, although there were more cars present than on the previous Sunday, giving some cause for optimism, on asking some returning birders what the situation was, I was told that it had been reported as having been seen early on, but had disappeared, and that again it was windy, gritty and grotty viewing.

Therefore, I opted to go straight to the seawall on the south side of Seal Sands where at least it was sheltered, and better viewing was afforded. I outstayed two birders who joined me (and encouraged me, as one of them had seen it, close, from this location early on during its stay) and then two others. However, just as they left the pager announced that the bird was still (?) at Brann Sands at 12:02. Still? No matter. I rapidly walked back to the car, catching the second pair of birders on the way, and then crossing the A718 just as a convoy of birders cars got there. For some bizarre reason I was asked for directions! I suggested, “Great knot, Brann Sands, Redcar”. Or something like that.

I chose to quickly follow the convoy (well, obviously I did, they had such comprehensive directions 😀) rather than wait for the two birders who had, ‘Where to Watch Birds in Northeast England’. The drive was somewhat frenetic, but working on intuition, I was relatively easily able to get to South Gare, despite not seeing any other birders, whether in a convoy or not. Then it was a quick jog through the dunes to the beach of Brann Sands where a gallery was looking out across the bay. I pulled up a plastic drum (as we were on the strand-line) perched myself next to a birder, and asked for directions. I was then able to quickly get onto it as it was at about 200m range across the sand-flats. This was far, far better than I could imagine. However, I quickly realised that it could be better still, as for some reason birders were looking at it into the wind and the sun, when it was obvious to me it would be far better, and closer, if I got around the bay. Here it would be sheltered if I could get in the lee of the low cliff, and the light would be more favourable.

I quickly walked around the bay, seeing Bernie Beck on the way. As I thought, the conditions were far more favourable and so I settled down for a good hour our more (with small changes of position, as the boulder beach was not that comfortable!) taking the bird in. It was in constant view, allowing some serious sketching to be done. The ‘scope I’d borrowed from Jim Steele proved very useful too as it could be zoomed up to x 45, so allowing even closer views, if slightly fuzzy at that magnification. It was actively feeding for the greater majority of this time, scurrying backwards and forwards over the same part of the sands in a manner typical of other Calidris waders. Occasionally, it was harassed by oystercatchers when it located food items, and once it bathed and preened very briefly. However, in the main it was rapidly running over the sands (rapidly but jerkily) searching for food. It moved mainly into the wind and then would return (sometimes getting side on to the wind, and being blown sideways).

It was far more distinctive than I dared anticipate (although only as it was still in partial summer plumage and also the only Calidris wader on view).  However, (and we all like a wader don't we?) I cannot pretend it was the most attractive wader I've ever seen, frankly (see what I did there?), it was a bit of a Frankenstein wader.

It appeared to be about the size of a gray-tailed tattler, and the shape of dunlin, if heavier in build. The most notable plumage details were the remnant summer plumage ones. The heavy gorget of black marking on the upper breast was very obvious, although it varied with stance, being particularly noticeable when the bird was either directly side or head on. The underparts were otherwise bright white, with strong spotting on the flanks. The upperparts were light browny-grey, with heavy black streaking on the mantle, scapulars and coverts. No rufous centres to the scapulars were visible. The wing tips of the bird were black whilst the bird was at rest. The head was rather plain – in particular the face, but there was a dark eye-stripe, especially behind the eye. The bill was black, heavy and medium length with a thick base, somewhat like semi-palmated sandpiper, the legs were greeny-grey.

After watching it intently for more than an hour, it was flushed, along with oystercatchers, by a female peregrine. It flew off, allowing the lack of wing-bars and white-grey rump to be taken in as well. It was also noted that it looked strangely slim and long-winged in flight, as it flew out of sight over the edge of a sandbank.

All very much enjoyed and well worth the wait. I left more than satisfied, my only slight regret being that it then showed even better (down to 100m and then 10m apparently) later on.

* Certainly early on during its stay, views of the great knot were notoriously distant, with the result that it was nicknamed the 'Great Dot'.

Great Knot, Brann Sands, Teesmouth, Cleveland, November 1996 (photograph credited to Jim Pattinson).

Black-winged Pratincole – Monikie Country Park, Monikie, Angus, 16^th August 1996

On the night of Wednesday, the 14th August 1996, as I was at ‘home’ in my rented accommodation in Creetown in Galloway, I was ‘perplexed’ to find out from my Rare Bird Alert pager that there was a Black-winged Pratincole at Monikie Country Park in Angus. At the time, I was working on the Scotland-Northern Ireland Pipeline Project, which necessitated being based in Galloway during the working week. I was perplexed, as the following day I was going to Northern Ireland for what proved to be an eventful trip. So eventful, that I was unable to ‘phone either a Birdline, or Gilly. (my then girlfriend and future wife and ex-wife). This failure didn’t seem too critical, as the message, as I recollected it, suggested that the bird had disappeared that same day, and as the next day, Thursday, I had received the greater proportion of the messages, none of which mentioned the Black-winged Pratincole. However, perhaps during the excitement of the return trip on the Jetliner between Larne and Cairnryan, just north of Stranraer, which was diverted to off the Mull of Galloway in sea fog to take part in an air-sea rescue search, I had missed something ....!

So it was that I was somewhat dumbfounded on the morning of Friday the 16th August when the pager told me that the Black-winged Pratincole was still at Monikie Country Park. What? Still? 

Fortunately this was the first or second message on the pager, and so I had time to react. Unfortunately, there were major complications, as although it was Friday, when, usually, I would be travelling from Creetown to South Queensferry, on this occasion I was staying in Creetown and Gilly was travelling down from South Queensferry, as amongst other things we were intending to go for a meal with my friends Mark and Fiona Hannay. Or that was the plan! I had to intercept Gilly before she set off, or we would end up crossing as I travelled to Monikie, and she to Creetown. 

As I pondered this dilemma, I was informed by the secretary that Gilly had phoned on Thursday afternoon, to see whether I was back from Northern Ireland. Why? I phoned home twice, leaving a frantic message; as I couldn’t remember her plans. Then I remembered that she was staying at her friends’ overnight, so that I might miss her altogether if she set off straight from there.

I was desperate to contact her to arrange to meet her somewhere, so that we could take in the bird together, and then return to Creetown. I wanted to go, but knew I couldn’t until I had contacted Gilly. A further complication was that I didn’t know anything about what the bird was doing, for instance, was it showing and what had its pattern been the previous day? Then inspiration came to me – ‘phone Monikie Country Park! This I did but unfortunately no one was around who could give me an update, although I was gratified to hear that someone would ‘phone me back when news was available.

Someone did ‘phone, but that someone was Gilly! And she already knew about the bird, as my erstwhile friend Stuart Green had ‘phoned her in South Queensferry to find out whether I was coming up for the bird. 

Hence the ‘phone call from Gilly on Thursday! She was really excited about the news. I told Gilly to wait there, and suggested that I would be there by c.12:00. I ‘phoned Mark Hannay in case he wanted to come, as I would be passing Cardoness, his estate outside Gatehouse of Fleet, shortly, and also to indicate that we might not get back if the bird proved difficult. He declined, I departed, calling ‘home’ to the craftshop cottage in Creetown to collect my essential belongings, in case we did not make it back, before driving at pace to South Queensferry. I set off at c. 09:25, and arrived there at c.11:35, in doing so breaking my all-time record for the journey. With minimum fuss the next scheduled pit stop was completed and the co-driver collected.

Gilly then completed the driving to Monikie Country Park and we both feasted and bantered as we went. We arrived promptly and precisely at around 13:05, and on sighting birders overlooking the wall alongside the road we parked up alongside a woodland opposite the reservoirs / country park. On emerging from the car Gilly asked the immediately rather superfluous question, “Are you bringing the ‘scope?” This was quickly, and more appropriately, followed by, “Brian!” as she glimpsed what she knew was it as it hawked directly overhead. 

It had apparently just reappeared, or so we were told as we joined the assembled birders on the other side of the road. From here we enjoyed similar views as it race-glided backwards and forwards. It was frequently in the company of Swallows and indeed looked somewhat like a large hirundine in comparison. The views were initially very good for flight views, often directly overhead, and in the ‘scope which I had by now retrieved, but slowly it drifted further and further away, until it was out of sight, apparently never to be seen again. Phew!

The main identification features were noted during these views. These included dark underwings, with the linings and trailing edge darkest, and also darkish brown upper-wings, again with a dark trailing edge, white rump and dark forked tail. The underparts, including the head were pale, and the bill and eye were dark. There was a hint of mottling on the face and neck. But the flight – this was very distinctive, and almost like what I imagine a Sooty or Eleonora’s Falcon to be like in flight.

We later found out that had disappeared for good when we saw it go (despite our assurances to the contrary to later arrivals) but, perversely, within nine days I had seen another, as, whilst I was in Lancashire, one turned up at Leighton Moss! This proved useful, as it was a first summer as opposed to a juvenile, and also gave views on the ground as opposed to in the air.

And we made it back for our meal at Cardoness that night!

Red-flanked Bluetail –Winspit, near Worth Matravers, Dorset, 31^st October 1993

As suggested in the account for the (Western) Black-eared Wheatear, as Paul Pugh, Neil Tasker and I journeyed back from our successful visit to North Norfolk, the pager alerted us to the presence a Red-flanked Bluetail at Winspit in Dorset as we reached the A1(T). That is, a mainland, and therefore potentially twitchable, Red-flanked Bluetail!!!!!!

Quandaries ensued. There were whole series of them. Firstly though, as it was about 15:30 there was obviously no chance of getting there that evening.

But tomorrow.......... ? We each had our own thoughts. I didn’t fancy it. Red-flanked Bluetail was a notorious one day bird, and there would be huge galleries and queues, oh, and then there was the drive to Dorset and back, after the one for Black-eared Wheatear to North Norfolk and back before a drive to be back at work on the Scotland to Northern Ireland Pipeline Project in Newton Stewart, Galloway.

However, as we travelled back to Leigh, I slowly convinced myself that we should have a go, as, again, it was too good an opportunity to miss. A 06:00 start was again discussed, but later, once back at Paul’s, we realised that the thing to do was to wait for any news the following morning.

This we did. After getting news at about 07:50 we were off by 08:30. It was an uneventful drive, although it was livened up, at least for Paul and Neil, as I found a telephone box and 'phoned someone, and then blithely informed them as we reached the Bournemouth and Poole area that I had made arrangements to pick up an extra passenger and that a diversion would be in order.

I explained more; we were now picking up Alison Bunting, who had been my girlfriend when I worked in Dorset and Hampshire on the Purbeck to Southampton Pipeline. Alison is that unfortunate combination of an agoraphobic birdwatcher and so really enjoyed her birding with me, and as such, I couldn't really see a mega in her county and not at least contact her. Although Paul and Neil kept their opinions to themselves, they were undoubtedly horrified, as what I proposed would involve delays (whether or not it involved collecting a woman!) which could jeopardise our success.

As it was, with minimum fuss really, we picked up Alison in Wimborne and then continued on, at increasingly urgent speeds, to Worth Matravers. As we reached the scenes (car-parks, returning birders, etc.) the pager announced the queues had gone. How good was that? All the same we hurried down into the Winspit valley past the stream of returning birders – one of whom was Andy Clemnets. He advised me not to panic and go chasing for it, but rather to wait for it near the sycamore, looking into the scrub on the valley side, as the bird had a circuit and would show there.

And so it was. Really easy! Brief but very good views of an absolute gem which showed extremely well for the assembled audience on the track – so close that some, Alison included, couldn’t focus down on it!

A real stunner. Yes, it was red-flanked and blue-tailed! It was a slim Robin-type bird – which was perhaps longer-tailed than a Robin, but the size and structure was basically similar. It had pale under-parts. Contrasted to Red-breasted Flycatcher in terms of the red flanks and the dark-centred blue tail, blue rump and also the blue-brown lower back, but the comparison was valid in other ways. For example, it had a distinct but partly broken pale eye-ring. It had a thick base to the bill – again like a flycatcher. Both the bill and legs were dark.

Now, I should explain that at the time Red-flanked Bluetail was an extremely rare bird (this was just the 14th) which was notoriously difficult to twitch; almost all the previous thirteen records were one day birds and / or on remote islands and / or trapped.

Conversely, this bird remained around from the 30th October to the 8th November and so was a massive ‘un-blocker’. Not only that, it heralded a radical change in status of this species. The first record was in 1903, and the second in 1947. The third was in the 1950s, and the fourth in the 1960s. This rate of one per decade increased somewhat to five in the 1970s but there were only three in the 1980s. Our bird was one of two in 1993, although more typically, the other involved a one-day bird which was trapped on Fair Isle.... .

Subsequently though, the species has become much more frequent. Without really trying too hard (despite the species remaining a ‘high status’ bird), by 2020, I had seen at least six more, and even co-found one! (And I may even be forgetting one or two others!).

These included one in Foveran Bushes, near Newburgh, Aberdeenshire in September 1998, one at St. Abbs Head, near St. Abbs in October 1999 (which Gillian and I had watched from side of a glade as it was feeding around the 12 month old Ellen, sitting on my Barbour jacket on the other side of the glade, in the wood alongside Mire Loch as the 'maddening' crowd crashed around elsewhere ‘looking’ for it), one 'in the hand' at Spurn in October 2013 or 2015, one at Kergord on Mainland Shetland in October 2015, one on St. Agnes, Scilly in October 2016, and, oh, the one ‘found’ by Andy Carroll, ‘Fred’ Fearn and I as we sat inside the entrance lobby of the Community Hall on Fair Isle in October 2017 taking advantage of the free wi-fi. By this time it wasn't even aa BB.

By 2020, there had been something like 200 records since 1993, whereas before my first, as described here, there had only been thirteen.

Red-flanked Bluetail, Winspit, Worth Matravers, Dorset, October 1993 (photographer unknown).

Canvasback – Welney Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust Reserve, Welney, Norfolk, 9^th March 1997

Having spent several weeks fretting over the missed opportunity of this first (a feeling heightened every time it reappeared and then disappeared again) whilst duplicitously telling myself that I wasn’t really that bothered, opportunity knocked and was then, finally, gratefully welcomed.

I had ‘missed’ the bird when it first turned up because I had been unable to break the journey from South Queensferry at Dad’s, as he was in New Zealand, and the house alarm was on. I was daunted by the prospect of the trip without a staging post, and anyway, I misguidedly thought it would stick.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stick, or if it did, not very well. I had therefore tried to forget it, although it still rankled, despite my feigned indifference.

The sad death of my Grandma, and also my mum’s planned reunion for her long lost brother, meant I had to be in Lancashire for both the funeral of Grandma on the Monday and the party for Uncle Ernie on the Tuesday. I opted to travel to Burnley on the Friday, to take in the Burnley game on the Saturday. By then I was already aware that the Canvasback was back at Welney on the Friday, so began to plan......! I decided that if it was still there on Saturday morning, there would be a good chance on Sunday.

It was there on the Saturday morning and so I attempted to make it known that I intended to (finally) use Chesterfield as a staging post that night for a mission on Sunday morning. Having watched Burnley thrash Peterborough 5.0, I travelled to Dad’s in good spirits for what proved to be a frugal evening and early morning. I set off to Welney at 07:15, and after an excellent drive I arrived by 09:15. Even better, just 45 minutes into the journey, the pager informed me that it was still there – so dispelling my fears of a dip of colossal proportions, due to its erratic behaviour on previous occasions. I’d no idea how long the journey would take but I did know that the reserve didn’t (officially) open until 10:00. As the journey progressed it became obvious that I was going to be there some while before this. To be sitting in the car park waiting for the reserve to open, whilst it could fly off at any moment was going to be less than calming.

When I got there at 09:15 I was relieved to find that people were already going up the walkway towards the hides. It was already open! Having visited the toilets, assembled my gear and purchased a permit, I rushed to the hides where I had been informed there would be a warden who would probably have the Canvasback staked out. I arrived in the large showpiece hide to find lots of other birdwatchers looking out at c.500 - 600 Pochard, plus a large assortment of other wildfowl. They obviously had it, but I didn’t want the embarrassment of asking where it was, and equally wanted the challenge of looking for it myself. And find it I did, very easily, quickly and flukily! I watched it for a few minutes at a reasonable range as it swam around in the company of male Pochards, making a useful comparison. Birders were coming and going all the time and some new arrivals asked nobody in particular where the Canvasback was, so I obviously quickly obliged them. At which there was mild consternation from everyone else in the hide as they hadn’t been on it after all!

As soon as I had given directions it began moving towards an island where it then climbed out of the water and then walked to a suitable spot amongst all the other roosting wildfowl where it rested and preened, often obscured for long periods by, in the main, Whooper Swans. This proved to be the pattern for at least the next hour or so. Occasionally, it would move on when disturbed by other Whooper Swans coming to rest on the island. When this happened it was notable that the Canvasback had a very upright carriage with its legs a long way back on its body compared to other ducks. More frequently, but still not that often, it would just look up, and on such occasions, its long, thin, dark bill and peaked head shape were very apparent.

It was good fun directing people to a bird amongst hundreds, which if they got there was then totally obscured. In between checks to make sure it was still roosting I was able to check out Lesser Snow Goose, Tundra Bean Geese, Bewick’s Swan, Black-tailed Godwit, etc., some good birds! Finally, just when I was thinking of leaving as I was conscious of the time it suddenly returned to the water, and began swimming around in a sexually crazed manner, closely following a female Pochard, and displaying by vigorously throwing its head back.

Having watched this for some while, I left after what had been an excellent two hours.

The Canvasback was bulkier than the accompanying Pochard, with a longer neck. The head was a rich chestnut brown, and the flanks and back a very light grey, darker and lighter respectively than male Pochard, to which otherwise it was superficially similar. It had a black breast and undertail coverts slightly less extensive than male Pochard. Smudgy dark brown areas between and on folded wings were noted (mainly the rump and back, and wing-tips and coverts) some of which were perhaps indicative of a first calendar year bird. The all-dark bill and general head profile were very distinctive. It also had all-dark legs. It also appeared to have orangey-yellow eyes and tapering black lines running from the upper breast to the sides of the neck.

Canvasback, Welney Wildfowl and Wetlands Reserve, Welney, Norfolk, March 1997 (photograph credited to Alan Tate).