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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brian Minshull, Ken Shaw, Paul Collin and Rory Whytock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trained to twitch!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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