Western Reef Heron – Foryd Bay, Gywnedd, 11^th June 2026

First, some context:

1. Driving woes

In August 2025, my closest friends from University, Gary, Chris, Steve and I went to Hull for a nostalgic visit to the city of our educating and growing up.

I drove Gary and I from Barrowford in Lancashire to Hull and back. On our return journey, we stopped off in Hebden Bridge for a pint, before continuing on to Barrowford.

On reaching Barrowford, I turned to car around on Church Street, where Gary lives, and parked up on the roadside near Gary’s. This is a quiet residential road on which lots of local residents and others park either side of the road, often (without blocking the pavements on either side for pedestrians, etc.) with two wheels on the kerb, as a reasonable amount of traffic uses the road (which becomes Wheatley Lane Road) when driving between Fence and Barrowford, etc., and vice versa.

At the time, Wheatley Lane Road was close off for roadworks some 2 or 300 m beyond Gary’s. I parked in a space just beyond which was a road sign advising motorists that the road ahead was closed. As I parked, I remarked to Gary that I hope no one would drive along and hit the sign and it hit my car later that night. Little did I know.

That evening, Gary and I continued what had been an indulgent few days by visiting our favourite Banker’s Draft pub; more pints of beer were I involved.

As a consequence, later that night, neither of us heard (what was apparently) a very loud crash outside, and although I’d later got up in the night and noticed blue lights flashing outside, and indeed looked out of my bedroom window, I failed to realise just what had happened.

The following morning, Gary was already out for his morning walk when I decided to put my bags, etc., in my car, for a prompt getaway back to South Queensferry. However, my car was no longer where I had left it, although there was some debris in the road. Confused, I ‘phoned Gary, and suggested I had a problem, as my car was missing. He immediately posted a message on his local Facebook group asking his neighbours if they knew anything. The equally immediate response was complete disbelief that we’d not heard anything!

Apparently, there was indeed an almighty crash, and various of Gary’s neighbours had rushed out to find that a black BMW had ploughed into the front roadside wing of my car and shunted it back onto the pavement and the rear of my car had then crashed into the nearby streetlight. The driver of the BMW was still in his car, shaken but otherwise unharmed, it would seem, and both police and ambulance were called, and quickly arrived. Then he was detained and both cars were taken away by a breakdown vehicle (presumably as they were blocking the road and pavement and maybe for evidential reasons).

Anyway, suffice to say, although I was subsequently provided with a courtesy car and was able to retrieve my possessions, I never saw my car again. I ultimately did very well from the uncontested insurance claim but then didn’t know what to do about arranging for a replacement car. Initially, I had courtesy cars, and either arranged for others to use their car rather than mine when I went to Lewis (Ken and Amanda Shaw) or hired from Bolt’s when I went to Unst (Chris Pendlebury and I) but eventually, I had to decide what to do about a replacement. For a while I managed perfectly well without a car and investigated hiring or joining a car club for those times – mainly twitches – when I really needed a car. Everything else was ‘manageable’, after all, I now enjoyed free bus travel throughout Scotland, and reduced rate train travel in the UK and beyond.

However, no longer being able to just jump in a car and leave within minutes concerned me.

When I was still deliberating, it emerged the youngest daughter Tessa had purchased a van and intended to convert it into a mobile living and working space, and as such planned selling her old car.

I can’t pretend that this immediately offered a solution, as I still intended doing without a car, but I slowly realised that purchasing Tessa’s old car from her was a good option for both of us. This I eventually did, knowing her Ford Ka was a very ‘compact’ number, and so ideal for parking on the High Street in South Queensferry, and that it only had 44,000 miles on the clock, but not quite realising its registration was from 2010 and as such, that it was a very old small car. Tessa was up front about it needing money spent on it when I purchased it, and I duly got it checked over and some small jobs sorted out. Soon afterwards the alternator failed, so I had that replaced, and it was subsequently fine.

However, subsequently, I remained reluctant to launch into long-distance twitches in a 16-year-old compact car with a small engine………. .

2. Listing woes

Unst 2025 delivered two new species, or so I thought. One of these, Western Subalpine Warbler, was a much needed pull back following the splitting of Subalpine Warbler. Following on from the Eastern Subalpine Warbler (also on Mainland Shetland) two years earlier, this unsightly glitch in my list was looking a lot more respectable.

However, ignominy of ignominies, irony of ironies, this tick was subsequently denied to me by the belated results of DNA analysis, which ‘proved’ that the bird which had been carefully examined in the hand and identified as a Western Subalpine Warbler, was, in fact(?) an Eastern Subalpine Warbler. FFS!!!!!!!

So, in the mid-2020s, lumping had denied me Green-winged Teal, Hooded Crow, Lesser Redpoll, Common Redpoll and Arctic Redpoll leaving me with just Redpoll, and splitting had deprived me of Subalpine Warbler and then decided I couldn’t have my ‘Western’ Subalpine Warbler after all!!!!!

To be minus five ticks when you are in the 510-520 range is a hell of a lot, and this was VERY dispiriting, to put it mildly. Then, to really force home the ignominy of still not having Western Subalpine Warbler on my list (easily my ‘softest’ target) in May 2026 Tessa finally was able to briefly be a Volunteer Warden for Steely on the Isle of May, arriving on the Monday after me and ‘my’ group had left on the Saturday and then seeing Dipper, a bird I haven’t seen on the Isle of May, on the 26th May, and Western Subalpine Warbler, a bird I haven’t seen full-stop, on the 28th May. Clearly, I now only have one daughter, and am actively spending the inheritance of my former daughter!

At various times subsequent to autumn 2025, two ticks were relatively readily available for me in faraway coastal eastern Norfolk and Suffolk, Black-winged Kite and Zitting Cisticola respectively. I was interested in going (and combining the trip with catching up with Mike Thompson in conveniently – for once – situated Southwold). At least, I was interested in going when Steely and I discussed it, and he suggested if I got to him in his wintering quarters in Yorkshire, he would drive from there. I was less than interested in going when this failed to materialise, and I was faced with driving my little car all that way. It just didn’t seem particularly viable, it didn’t enthuse.

Admittedly, part of this was me just getting older.

Could I really be bothered?

However, move on a good few weeks and months.

Late on the morning of Saturday the 6th June news broke of a Western Reef Heron in North Wales. Just when I came to realise this momentous news I cannot remember, but, as suggested, for a few days I equivocated, until the combined promptings of an unlikely few, including Chris Hirst (who sent me a WhatsApp message with a link to a Guardian newspaper article about the bird), Andy Williams (who forwarded a post by a friend of ours about seeing the bird, and asking whether I had been offered a lift) and Alison Downs (who pointed out I would regret it if I didn’t go) slowly changed my thinking.

Also instrumental was a WhatsApp message from Gary Hitchen in response to the dialogue I had had with Chris Hirst, suggesting I was welcome to stayover at his place in Barrowford.

As a result, I finally resolved to go for it on Thursday the 11th June. My alarm coincided with positive news, which is always a good combination. As such, I was off by 09.00 (the traffic earlier would not have been helpful). It was a very long drive, but I eventually arrived at the right place using the RBA App very successfully, some seven hours later. A few scattered people were evident around either side of a small group of buildings on the eastern side or the estuary, just immediately south of the point at which a tributary entered it.

I opted to continue just beyond, where a slightly larger group, were, I hoped, watching it. I asked if it was viewable, and was advised it was, so I reversed to a grassy area alongside the road, and parked.

I then assembled my gear and walked a very short distance to a suitable viewing position at the point which the grassy area sloped down to the saltmarsh proper. Here I opted to sit down on the bank as this was a better option for using my new Swarovski AT Balance 18-45 x 65 ‘scope, given my balance issue. With some helpful directions I was quickly able to locate it feeding distantly on the far side of the tributary channel (although not as distantly as I had thought once I zoomed up, having assumed I already had…… !!!!!). I then watched it on and off and chatted for an hour or so, during which time it moved up channel and then crossed the channel, so it was closer, before it firstly moved away again, and then flew further up the channel (and so out of sight behind the nearby buildings.

The setting was an impressive natural estuary at low- or mid-tide. As it was mid-summer, the supporting cast was limited to a few scruffy Mallards and Herring Gulls, and, helpfully, a Little Egret.

There was just a handful of people present at any one time, and, as the bird was showing well (and had been doing so for days) it was all very relaxed.

I particularly enjoyed chatting with the mother of a keen young birder, Aled. She, Iola Williams, was keen to chat to me as an approachable, knowledgeable male, and very clearly, she was an impeccable judge. I was very happy to help as best as I could, as I admired the dedication of both Aled and his mum. And the conversation helped make everything suitably Welsh.

When it moved out of sight, I was faced with the challenge of getting up. Driving for seven hours and then sitting on damp, sloping ground for another 45 minutes wasn’t a good combination, and I had become very immobile and inflexible, and so it was a real struggle, even aided by a convenient piece of driftwood and by Iola and her friend.

Anyway, eventually I managed to return to an upright state, and, having retrieved a walking pole from the car I too moved around the group of buildings to attempt to see the bird again.

However, I failed to do so, mainly as I wanted to make sure I remained upright, and / or, if I sat down again, I could more easily return to an upright position.

In the end, I decided I should cut my losses and go to find a filling station (the fuel warning light was already on) and then drive to Barrowford in time for the first game of the World Cup, Mexico v. South Africa.

As such, I bade my farewells to Iola and Aled and departed the scene, very happy.

It was a truly stunning bird, much, much more exciting and interesting looking than the scruffy individuals seen in Isreal decades beyond.

It was a small, almost all dark, heron, the same size and shape as a Little Egret, although possibly looking larger because of the dark plumage.

Its bill was mainly dark, and very long looking and its legs were dark olive-green, although the feet were bright yellow like Little or Snowy Egret.

Its plumage was all dark black(blue) apart from a white gular patch. There were two long wavy aigrettes emanating from rear of nape and others on the back.

As ever, I may have agonised about going, but seeing the bird was well worth all the agonising. And driving. And I now knew that such twitches were still viable.

Western Reef Heron, Foryd Bay, Gwynedd, June 2026 (photograph credited to J. Martin Jones).

Pallid Swift – Flamborough Head, East Yorkshire, 28^th October 1999

Sketch based on sketch drawn soon after seeing the Pallid Swift, at Flamborough Head, East Yorkshire, in October 1999.

On Monday the 25th October 1999, I spent the pertinent part of the day waiting for a ‘phone call from Jim Steele regarding going for the Isabelline Shrike at Burnmouth. It never arrived. As a result, there was no trip to Burnmouth and so I missed a good Scottish tick. Much, much worse though was the small matter of the Pallid Swift I apparently also missed when it too briefly turned up at Burnmouth (albeit briefly – as in before it was taken by a Sparrowhawk!).

After this fiasco I was taunted by the presence of several other Pallid Swifts in England and also by the continuation of the stunningly good autumn in the Scillies / south-west of England. I was particularly tantalised by the presence of one (or was it two?) Pallid Swifts at Flamborough Head, East Yorkshire.

An available tick, offering the prospect of a fourth tick in less than three months, in what was for me, and generally, a stupendous autumn, was too much to resist, after a drought of some 22 months without a tick.

I spent much of the week sweating and equivocating about the Flamborough Head bird, which exceptionally, was sticking around – a bit like me!

It was a long way to go, and twitching a swift, especially several days after day one was always going to be a dodgy proposition.

On the night of Tuesday 26th October, after I had walked the BP Grangemouth Natural Gas Pipeline route and then unsuccessfully ‘twitched’ the phalarope spp. at Linlithgow Loch (where I was told more of the Burnmouth Pallid Swift story) I had a ‘phone call from Tommy Charlton. At the time I was in the bath with my one-year old daughter Ellen, and so my ex-, Gillian, had fielded the ‘phone call for me. Apparently, the call was about a weeks’ work in the AMEC offices in Darlington.

My discussions with the two birders at Linlithgow Loch indicated that others had attempted to twitch the Pallid Swift at Flamborough Head from Scotland with mixed success, indeed, apparently some had bottled the Flamborough Head bird and then jammed in on the Burnmouth one. So, it was possible, and now I had the prospect of somehow combining it with this work in Darlington.

However, once again I was thwarted, as I wasn’t able to speak to Tommy himself until the Wednesday evening. When I finally did speak to Tommy, we quickly established that it might be advantageous for me to call into Darlington earlier than the following week!

I made arrangements with Gillian along the basis that if the Pallid Swift was still around on the Thursday morning I would have to go for it, and then stay over somewhere near Darlington so that I could be there early on the Friday morning.

Unfortunately, having packed and prepared in part that night, and completed this task the following morning, there was a noticeable absence of any positive news until 11:00! I was very much on edge until then, with the pager not in silent mode for once, and struggling to do anything useful by way of diversion.

However, in the middle of another ‘phone call to attempt to sort out my dodgy modem, the news I had been waiting for finally came through, at long last! I quickly curtailed that call, and then made one to Gillian, who gave me some friendly grief, before wishing me well.

I left at 11:00, and it proved to take a lot longer than I had anticipated. I was annoyed about the lost three hours or so as it then took me more than three hours to get to the A1(M) at Darlington. From there it didn’t get any quicker due to traffic, traffic works, etc.. I finally was able to thrash the last few miles to Flamborough Head without obstruction and was glad I did!

Throughout much of the journey, there was no news on the pager, or if there was it was one of the very few messages I missed. Once on the A1(M) though there was news and apparently it was c.1 km north of the lighthouse, but as I approached the final destination a message came through indicating that it was now near the fog station. Better still, and no need for a jog along the coast once I got there!

Unfortunately, the car park was pay and display and I had just no small change, but I was far too thrilled at being so close to another tick to be too bothered by this. I assembled my gear, made use of the very conveniently situated conveniences and then walked towards the fog station. Memories of Black Redstart and Snow Bunting on the geology field trip at the very beginning of my time at university in Hull in October 1979!

I could see that there were a few birders were there, and yes, better still, I could see the swift dashing backwards and forwards over them. On how many occasions had I ticked a bird before I got to the twitch itself?!

Anyway, for much of the next hour the bird was generally on view, although often distant, or temporarily lost to view. Soon after I first arrived it flew the closest and lowest it did throughout my stay on several occasions, most memorably back-grounded against an adjacent stretch of cliff-top, against which it appeared incredibly pale. The time of my arrival was fortuitous in other ways in addition to the location from which the bird was showing, and the ranges at which it was showing down to. The sun was already low, and the horizontal light it gave was good enough but not too bright, so plumage details were reasonably easy to see, as the bird wasn’t rendered into silhouette by bright light.

Of the pertinent i.d. features, I was able to see that, in comparison to Common Swift the:

- plumage tone was paler, milkier;

- wing-pattern involved dark outer primaries and leading edge of the underwing contrasting with the rest of the underwing, and similar on the upper-wing, where the greater coverts and the secondaries were paler;

- body colour was darker than the paler underwing, although the darker mantle producing a saddle effect was not too evident;

- feather edgings on the underparts were paler;

- the forehead and throat had a larger pale area, and there was a dark eye mask; and,

- the wing-tips and tail fork were slightly blunter and slightly shallower respectively.

Much of this was very arbitrary, although from the views I had the bird was blatantly not a Common Swift.

I was also able to see both a Fieldfare and Marsh Harrier coming in off the sea during the time I was at Flamborough Head – migration in full swing!

Some years later Graham Clark and I called in at Waterston House at Aberlady on the way back from an unsuccessful twitch for Chimney Swift on Holy Island. Here, whilst we were in the reception area we happened to be in the right place at the right time as Ian Thompson called in to report a swift was flying around over his nearby cottages. This was undoubtedly a Pallid Swift on jizz and flight action, but we just couldn’t get enough on it.

White-winged Scoter – off Murcar Links Golf Course, Blackdog, Aberdeenshire, 30^th June 2016

White-winged Scoter, off Murcar, Aberdeenshire, June 2016, attempting to illustrate the subtleties of i.d., especially when asleep on a lumpy sea!

Having bided my time (given it was found on Saturday the 25th June 2016) I banged in the 'deglandi' (er, that is, saw the (American) White-winged Scoter.....) the following Thursday.

I had bided my time as I had various commitments at the weekend and earlier in the week, but also as I was conveniently working on the Moray Reinforcement Pipeline Project in Aberdeenshire and was travelling there on Wednesday the 29th June, so it had seemed best to wait.

So, as it would have been rude not to, as was commented whilst I was there, I went after work on Thursday the 30th June.

I was increasingly hacked off at work, so I gradually hatched my plan, and left at around about 16:00 hours.

I travelled cross-country, avoiding the rush-hour A96 and A90 / Aberdeen by-pass and reasonably successfully navigating my way to the A90 north of Aberdeen. I struggled to decide whether I needed to take the A90 further north or south towards Aberdeen. Eventually I opted for the latter, and then misguidedly turned off into Blackdog. Here I consulted my mobile and realised I needed to continue further towards Aberdeen to find the Murcar Links Golf Course road. This I successfully did, and once there I parked up and assembled my gear and marched off north along the track through the Murcar golf course, as the RBA App suggested.

All a bit too literally though. I continued north, rather than diverted east as I realised I should have done on the way back. Eventually this track allowed me just to cross (carefully and respectably) one hole of the golf course to the sand-dunes, from where I had a good view out over a further sand-dune ridge, and the nearby North Sea. And lots of distant scoter, etc..

The trouble was, between the sand-dunes I was on, and the next ridge of sand-dunes was an intervening valley with a burn and dense reed-bed to traverse.

I continued north along the dunes, and then clambered down and along the steep eroding face of these dunes to the burn which I eventually crossed close to the point at which it reached the beach. Then I returned south across the beach and then onto and along the seaward sand-dune ridge. Once opposite the huge rafts of scoter I selected a suitable viewing point and erected my tripod and mounted my telescope, and scanned and scanned and scanned.

Initially this produced good views of huge numbers of Common Scoter, plus a range of other ducks, etc.. Eventually, as I got my eye in, and realised that the Velvet Scoter were mainly in small groups which tended to be further out. It was very hard work given the huge numbers of scoters Murcar in June / July involves and the range the flocks were at, and the sea state. And a jogger running along the beach helped not, as he flushed large numbers of birds, including many of the scoters........ .

I tried very hard but failed. I had seen no one (apart from golfers) nearby so as I contemplated what to do and opted to move further south along the sand-dunes and view from there (or leave!) I was somewhat surprised to find an update suggested the object of my quest was ‘still there’ at 18:00. Eh?

I was flummoxed. It was now c.19:00 and I had been there for at least an hour (and much more perhaps) and had seen no one.

I made my way south along the dune ridge and in doing so suddenly happened upon (to use a quaint expression) a couple, familiar from Fair Isle, who were grilling the flock from a point some few hundred metres south of where I had been.

What’s more, they had it, or at least, had had it.... .

But the fact that they had had it was fantastic news, which gave me renewed optimism.

Could he / we re-locate it? We gave it a good go, but struggled, and struggled really badly in my case. However, with commendable persistence he re-located it, and then managed to get me onto it. This was some achievement in both regards, and by me as well as him (though massive respect to him for his efforts!).

I slowly got my eye in on the bird in question, and once I had done it became somewhat easier to (lose and) re-locate the bird. Very often it was resting ‘with its head under its wing’ which made it all the harder to identify. Well, that is, until I realised that even when it was ‘at rest’ the exposed white wing patch was way more pronounced than it was on the few Velvet Scoters adopting the same pose.

So despite the birds’ un-cooperative behaviour (it was sleeping a lot of the time), etc., it was very rewarding eventually seeing the bird, and then, when the couple left, having it to myself and keeping on it, and then, finally, getting someone else who arrived later on it.

In addition to the highly distinctive wing flash when at rest, and despite the rolling sea and thronging mass of scoters, the views I obtained were good enough to see the pinky bill hues, the appropriately-shaped bill bump, the extensive white ‘lick’ back from the eye and nicely contrasting brown flanks, all of which enabled a useful (and reassuring) comparison with Velvet Scoter.

So ultimately, I was very happy, after a less than happy day at work.

And all the more so once I was back at my guest house in Huntly. Here I researched the status of White-winged Scoter. I belatedly realised that it now had full species status and that I had just had another tick!!!!

Subsequently, further audiences with White-winged Scoters in Shetland and Fife followed as birders got to grips with the i.d. of the split species (i.e., both White-winged and Stejneger’s).

White-winged Scoter, off Murcar, Aberdeenshire, June 2016 (photograph credited to Kris Gibb).

Lesser Grey Shrike – Great Wakering, Essex, 22^nd August 1989

What’s this???? Minshull twitches a Lesser and is successful? Yes thanks, although it would have been far better without the military intervention.

Sunday the 27th August 1989 saw me on another twitch from St. Albans with Mike Thompson and Pete Ewer. This involved us travelling out into the wilds of the Essex marshes beyond Southend-on-Sea and Great Wakering. Here a Lesser Grey Shrike had been for the past ten days. The only problem was that it was extremely distant, in a location bordering a military danger zone.
After winning a spot the dot competition dissatisfaction with the view lead to persistence beyond the call of duty.

We encircled the birds’ position and eventually it surrendered to one of the scouts. Despite the range good views were achieved, allowing the diagnostic features of the plumage to be ‘scoped, including the wrap around black mask, wide white secondary flash, pink flush(?) on the breast, etc..

Not the best of views of what was still evidently a stunning bird.

This was rectified in September 1994 when my ex- Gillian and I got very good views of one at Elie in Fife.

Two less than prize-winning images of my second Lesser Grey Shrike near Elie, Fife in September 1994.

 Oriental Pratincole – Gimingham, Norfolk, 22^nd May 1993

A well-watched bird, well-watched....... .

I had been determined to avoid a potential bad miss, so I had driven from South Queensferry to Leigh after finishing work on the Forties Crude Export Expansion Project in Dalmeny on the afternoon of Friday the 21st May 1993. I’d arranged a lift from Leigh to Gimingham in Norfolk with Paul Pugh, et al., for the next day. By this time the bird had been around for a week....... .

Having departed work in my little AMEC works van at 14:40, I made surprisingly good progress and arrived in Leigh at 18:40. Here I was informed by Janine that Paul wasn’t going.... .

Less than helpful. I could have driven for four or more hours south on the A1 instead, and I was just in my noisy little Ford Escort van. Annoyed more than somewhat, I continued on, and on, via Dad’s in Chesterfield and through the night to Cromer in Norfolk and a chicken kebab. Then I continued on to Gimingham, where, after looking for the venue in the dark, I opted to park in a lane near the hospital. It was now 00:20 on the very early morning of the 22nd May. Whether I slept much is not recalled, but four hours later I was up and soon afterwards I was at the scene, as evidenced by some 15 or so cars and 20 or 30 birders in a field.

The bird was already showing in the nearby potato field, but as I was looking into the light and looking much further away than the bird actually was, I struggled at first. It was standing on a ridge in the potato field, standing somewhat static in the dawn light, giving good views but it was not exactly dynamic, apart from a few sudden flurries of activity as it shuffled its plumage.

A move by some of the watching gallery of birders produced excellent views. Slowly more birders arrived and slowly the bird became more and more animate, and I obtained better and better views of a storming bird. As the bird made its most distant foray over the field directly opposite the ‘car-park’ the gallery surged. Thus, when it returned to the potato field, I was in pole position. At this point Mike Thompson arrived but he was too embarrassed to stand with me as this would have involved standing in front of the birders behind me.

It had taken me five hours to get decent views in flight. Mike arrived and saw it well on the ground for five minutes, and then it, playing its audience to the optimum, decided to fly up and over the gallery, to perform over the horse paddock. Fantastic. It was my preference to think of it being from the Dutch East Indies rather than being Dutch. A class act.

After enjoying the circus, I retreated for a well-earned breakfast.

So, after Collared Pratincole in Turkey, much better views of an obvious pratincole (by far the rarest, but my first).

In flight it had slow, deliberate wing-beats, like a tern display flight. It had coppery brown under-wing coverts, and a mid-brown upper-wing with darker primaries and secondaries. There was no pale trailing edge to the wing. It had a short black forked tail, and white rump and under-tail coverts and belly.

It had mid-brown upper-parts and lighter redder mid-brown under-parts. It also had a black face mask and surround to the buff-white throat part. The bill was black with a bright red base to the lower mandible. The legs were also black. The eye was black with a white lower eyelid.

I saw it again some weeks later when it had taken up residence near Burnham Norton, and I was visiting North Norfolk and staying with the Mostyn’s with my ex-, Gilly, Gary and Debbie Hitchen and Mike, and Susie Pearson.

Oriental Pratincole at Gimingham, Norfolk, May 1993(photograph credited to unknown).

Oriental Pratincole at Gimingham, Norfolk, May 1993(photograph credited to Rob Wilson).

Western Swamphen – Alkborough Flats Nature Reserve, near Alkborough, Lincolnshire, 10^th September 2016

Having ‘dipped’ the (same) bird at Minsmere RSPB Reserve in Suffolk (or at least failed to find the opportunity to go before it did on Saturday the 6th August 2016!) I was massively consoled when it was relocated some 140 miles to the north-west (if it flew like a crow.....) at Alkborough Flats Nature Reserve in Lincolnshire on Tuesday the 30th August 2016.

Just where it originally came from and what it was doing between the 6th and the 30th August didn’t particularly exercise me. What did exercise me was just how I was going to work in seeing it in amongst everything else. For example, I was in deepest Aberdeenshire when the news broke and remained there until returning to Edinburgh late the next night.

I was bogged down with work on the Moray Reinforcement Pipeline Project in Aberdeenshire and also the second Castle Stuart Golf Course Project in Highland until Tuesday the 6th September or so. However, simultaneously, I was ‘phoned by best mate Gary on Monday the 5th September offering me use of his season ticket for the Burnley v. Hull City game on Saturday the 10th September.

A scheme of things then began to emerge involve seeing the bird (or at least attempting to!) and seeing the Burnley v. Hull City game in a combined mission.

I was though, constrained by my commitment to take Tessa to gymnastics after school on Friday the 9th September. This meant I wouldn’t be able to leave until c.14:00 on the Friday; it certainly wouldn’t be a birthday tick, although it could still be a belated one....... .

I e-mailed Ken on Tuesday the 6th September, making a tentative suggestion of going for the swamp monster with him on the Friday.

This scheme of things came to fruition, so that having dropped Tessa off in Linlithgow before 14:00 we journeyed through indifferent weather (rain on the M74 and then it nearly went dark an hour or so before we got there whilst we were on the AI(M)!) via the M8, M74, M6, A66, A1(M), M62, M180 and M181 (eh?) to Scunthorpe and then local roads around Scunthorpe and beyond to Alkborough.

But where to go ........?

Under the duress of impending darkness, clarity of thought wasn’t foremost, and we were befuddled by the ‘directions’. Initially, we humm’ed and harr’ed about just which of the signposted car-parks in and around Alkborough to use. We selected the right one but hurried from there down off the escarpment towards the reserve below for no particular reason. Here we met a birder coming back from the reserve who suggested that the only other birders around were the local boys we had chatted to who were walking out to the hide from the car-park accessible from within Alkborough itself. We stormed back up the escarpment and jumped back in the car and returned back into the village and down the escarpment to the other car-park.

From here we yomped to the hide with the expectation that it would be on view from there.... .

It wasn’t, and worse, the hide was occupied by a couple of ‘know very little’s’ and a couple who had the good sense to leave.... .

We stayed longer than was necessary in the forlorn hope of it suddenly appearing, but there was no chance (all the more so when we got to grips with its whereabouts the following morning).

But I am getting ahead of myself.

We returned to the car and travelled back into Scunthorpe where we eventually found somewhere suitable to eat, drink and be snorey. Not easy in somewhere like Scunthorpe.

Better, the place (a half decent hotel) did breakfast from 06.30.

We were there for said breakfast soon after that time, which meant we were back at the original car-park relatively early that morning. Two or more cars gave hope. As did a group of three birders making their way south along the top of the ridge as I now believed we should have done.

Better still, when we followed, we met two birders coming back from the same direction, one of whom provided Ken with confirmation that it was showing, and detailed directions as to the location from which it could be viewed.

We made our way along the field edge and then down the bank onto the parallel track, and then through a gap in the hedge to the west and along a footpath to a point above some horse paddocks. Here we caught up with the three birders and joined them scanning the distant pools.

Or rather, one pool in particular. Initially, I struggled to work out which pools we were meant to be looking at, but once I got properly set up, I joined Ken and the others scanning one particular edge of the pool in question. I quickly grew bored of scanning this one area, in which the monster was meant to be lurking / emerging.

I began to scan further afield, along the back edge of the same pool. Almost immediately I began to do so, a distant apparition appeared which I (slowly?) realised was it. “I think I’ve got it”, and then, “I’ve got it”, I heard myself saying. I indeed had, but how to get Ken and the others on it? An Avocet standing alone in the middle of the pool made a useful reference point and reasonably quickly everyone else got on it relative to this.

It continued to show, on and off, as it worked its way along the edge of the reed-bed for the rest of the time Ken and I afforded it.

At times it was difficult to locate due to the distances involved, and the light conditions, and the fact that it was often either against, or within, the edge of the reed-bed.

But when it was on view it was bleeding obvious (at least with the ‘scope zoomed up to 60x).

Indeed, it was massive and purple (actually blue) - fnarr fnarr.

No, it was indeed huge. And given the range involved, this was just as well (indeed, given the light conditions the previous evening, I think we may have struggled to see it even if we had been looking from the right place).

As suggested though, when it walked along / away from the edge of the reed-bed it was reasonably obvious, if only due to its size. It wandered alongside the reed-bed skulking in the edge and / or actively searching for and finding food (including, at one stage, what appeared to be a small fish, which it held in its foot).

It was large (the size of a chicken!), and could be of variable shape, depending on whether it was standing erect or reaching forward foraging, etc.. The legs were stilt-like but the neck could also be attenuated.

It had a large pinky-red bill and plate, long (very long) pinky-red legs and big feet and dark eyes (okay, we couldn’t really see this).

Its plumage was various shades of dark blue, constantly changing with the light, and otherwise it had brilliant white under-tail coverts which flashed as it regularly flicked its tail as it walked.

And then it was over to the BOURC....... (who did make the right decision).

Afterwards Ken and I journeyed from Alkborough to Burnley. We did this via Hardcastle Crags, Walshaw Dean, Gorple, Widdop, etc., as I indulged myself showing Ken around my teenage stomping grounds. We made it to Burnley in plenty of time and I duly went to the football match, and Ken suffered more, watching the game in the Talbot Arms. It ended 1.1 with Hull City equalising in the 96 minute.

But I’d seen the swamp thing.

Western Swamphen at Alkborough Flats Nature Reserve, near Alkborough, Lincolnshire, September 2016 (a still captured from a YouTube clip credited to Steve Clifton).

A further notebook type sketch of Western Swamphen. This also commemorates my finest ever moment speaking 'pidgin French'. Towards the end of  three plus weeks travelling alone whilst birding in Morocco in December 1991-January 1992 I visited the marshes of Oued Loukos, near Larache, hopeful of seeing Purple Swampthing for the first time.

Here I asked two young children tending their goats, "Où est l'oiseau avec le grand bec rouge," and they immediately responded,"Ici," pointing out at the nearby marshes! 

Clearly, even from a young age, Morroccans are very good linguists, and I am not.

 

Parrot Crossbill – Holme Norfolk Ornithologists’ Trust Reserve, Holme-next-the-Sea, Norfolk, 21^st October 1990

Brutalist sketch of a hulking brute. male Pine Crossbill.

Pete Ewer, having missed the Pied Wheatear at Newhaven in Sussex, was keen to see the one at Holme, Norfolk, and so despite having driven from beyond Penzance to St. Albans the previous day, off we went from St. Albans to Holme-next-the-Sea, or, more specifically the Norfolk Ornithologists’ Trust reserve at Holme.

On arrival we were hugely entertained by an eastern race Crossbill, huge being the operative word. We then moved on to the female Pied Wheatear which, once located, was also good value.

However, I suddenly became very much disinterested as news reached us of Parrot Crossbills in the plantation (whereas Pete, having seen the famous birds in the car-park at Well-next-the-Sea, was still more interested in the Pied Wheatear). Hurrying there, I was quickly able to locate the birds. After a crossbill autumn this was very instructive. Most diagnostic was the huge bill and head. Cumbersome birds clambering clumsily through the pines....... .

..... which also applied to birds seen in the plantation at Setter Hill Estate, Baltasound, Unst in October 2017.

The 'eastern race' Crossbill. Stonking. Holme-next-the-Sea, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph credited to Peter Ewer).

Stonking x 2. Holme-next-the-Sea, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph credited to Peter Ewer).

Male Pine Crossbill. Stonking x 2. Holme-next-the-Sea, Norfolk, October 1990 (photograph credited to unknown).

 Spectacled Warbler – Filey, North Yorkshire, 27^th May 1992

After the news broke on Sunday the 24th May 1992, I endured a non-twitching (non-) Monday Bank Holiday the 25th May. This was a lazy, misty non-event due to indecision and inconsiderate disappearances / reappearances of what, we were assured, was an authenticated first for the British / Irish List.

However, eventually I managed to work a situation which allowed me the tick. Circumstances prevented me going for it on the Bank Holiday, as suggested, when I wasn’t at work, and again did so on Tuesday the 26th May, when I was, but on Wednesday the 27th May, when I was – but wasn’t.... I finally twitched it. Successfully.

Having confirmed that it was still there I embarked on what proved to be a five hour drive to Filey. However, this was eased by Radio 5 and good navigation all the way to the scene.

Once there it was as simple as through the hedges, along another to a gap and then literally, there it was, very deliberately working its way along the same hedge, giving frequent views good enough to ‘scope, even though it was only c.15 m away. Whilst I was there it worked the quite thick hawthorn hedge slowly, generally moving right, and in so doing providing excellent views.

Then I just had to drive back to be at work the next day..... .

It was a diminutive Whitethroat / Lesser Whitethroat cross. It had a dark mask, a bright yellow-orange eye ring, and russet secondaries / primaries.

Wow!!! My first ‘first for’ since the Ancient Murrelet!

Spectacled Warbler, Filey, North Yorkshire, May 1992 (photograph credited to unknown).

Great and Cory’s Shearwaters – Porthgwarra / Western Approaches, 14^th / 15^th August 1993

Something a tad different; two for the price of one, as, predictably, I have frequently seen these species in conjunction, ever since I finally unlocked the mystery of 'large shearwaters' during a late summer trip to Cornwall in late summer 1993, but also subsequently. But more of that later. First, back to 1993.

Months before this tick, my birding mate Paul Pugh and I had committed to going on a Scillonian Pelagic in 1993. This was scheduled for Sunday the 15th August, and so we had driven to Cornwall on Friday the 13th August, having seen U2 at Wembley on the night of Thursday the 12th August. Glorious!

As the pelagic was on the Sunday we had time to do things en route and once in western Cornwall. For example, we visited both the Thorburn Museum in Liskeard and Porthgwarra on the Friday, although the first was more successful than the second. However, doing a sea-watch from Porthgwarra in mid-August, immediately prior to a Scillonian Pelagic, still felt like the right thing to do.

So, having had a good night in the Dock Inn in Penzance where we were staying, we tried again the next day. This time our sea-watch at Porthgwarra had one subtle difference....... it was successful!!

Despite the negative signs (on initial appearances it was even calmer than the previous night and those present had tales of very limited early morning sightings as Paul and I arrived), we scored in a big way in the 2.5 hours we were there. Having been told that there was no real point getting there too early, we didn’t. We opted for a 07:00 for 07:30 breakfast and so finally arrived at gone 08:00. As we arrived at the time-honoured sea-watching auditorium we were greeted by many birders and wonderful conditions.

A good early sign, despite the limited news, was a Basking Shark idly feeding at the base of the cliffs, plus leaping shoals of squid(?).

The whole scene, but the shark in particular, was magnificent. Pelagic bird species were apparently few, with a few Manx Shearwater (tantalising with the possibility of accompanying Mediterranean, or as we now say, Balearic, no, make that Mediterranean again!) passing westwards at the range of the Runnels Stone Buoy. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a Great Shearwater (and then two Cory’s Shearwaters for good measure) at the same sort of range – went by.

The Great Shearwater was sufficiently close to get the cap and the under-wing pattern – all very impressive after being such a mystery for so long.

But strangely, due to the dread of 16 hours at sea the following day there was the feeling of slight frustration at the perversity of birding.... .

More was the anticipation for the following day. Indeed, expectations were fulfilled, and more. The shearwaters provided an encore in a big way during the Scillonian Pelagic out into the Western Approaches.

Paul and I were up at 04:15 for our sea-faring birding. We strolled across to the harbour from the Dock Inn to join the queue. We boarded after a short wait. As we tried to find a suitable place to base ourselves we spotted others, including Bernie Beck, cambering up onto the superstructure near the funnel, so we did the same, joining him and several other notorieties.

Fortunately, given my unease on the high seas, it was flat calm as we headed off out past Scilly in search of fishing boats.

An early Cory’s Shearwater did a close fly-past, and proved to us what a good vantage point we had.

Eventually we found fishing boats, and settled into a pattern of closing in, checking out the accompanying flock of birds, chumming as necessary, and then circling, before moving off to find the next boats.

This was very productive, Great Skua, Sabine’s Gull, Manx Shearwater, Cory’s Shearwater, Storm Petrel, Kittiwake, etc., were all seen. But no Great Shearwater! Was yesterday’s bird going to be it?

No. Arguably the best bird was a Great Shearwater, which, after we turned to go back, appeared, as if from nowhere, and swept straight towards our starboard bows and then memorably banked as it was alongside, flashing its under-wing in an apparent piece of supreme bravado.

The Great Shearwaters we saw were notable in terms of their size (a large shearwater, approaching a large gull in size), with a less than languid flight action involving a few stiff, quick flaps before a long glides..... . The plumage involved, basically, dark brown upper-parts and white under-parts. The upper-wings were progressively darker towards the tips, and the under-wings had a pattern of dark markings, particularly on the inner wing. They had a white collar / dark cap effect and a black-billed.

Having seen (poorly) two Cory’s Shearwater passing quickly westwards of Porthgwarra (quickly being the operative word – they moved extremely fast when they wanted to) I wanted better views. As we sailed westwards off Porthgwarra at the start of the Scillonian Pelagic the following day almost the first bird we saw as the day dawned was a Cory’s Shearwater, boding well. Good views were obtained, and others were seen later. However, as a finale, so as not to be outdone by the Great Shearwater perhaps, as we returned to Cornish waters several more were seen in the evening light.

The Cory's Shearwaters we saw were similarly notable in terms of their size (a large shearwater, approaching a large gull in size), with a languid flight action involving a few shallow flaps before a long glides on slightly bowed wings. The plumage involved, basically, grey-brown upper-parts and white under-parts. The upper-wings were progressively darker towards the tips, and the under-wings had a dark surround, particularly on the trailing edge. They were pale-headed and yellow-billed.

Subsequently, for many years, large shearwaters retreated from my focus unless I visited the Scillies in autumn, and sea-watched from Horse Point on St Agnes or from the Scillonian in the 2010s.

However, meanwhile, the world was changing  rapidly, and on a few occasions I managed to see lone Cory's Shearwaters in the Firth of Forth in the 2010s and 2020s. Indeed, one transformed into a Scopoli's Shearwater almost before my eyes in August 2020, immediately before I moved back into the centre of South Queensferry; had I moved a few days earlier I would literally have been able to see this bird from the garden!!!!

Then, on the 17th September 2022 I was fortunate enough to be one of a handful of birders on the Isle of May who managed to see both Cory's and Great Shearwater flying north past the Low Light in a fantastically memorable couple of hours. One of those very centrally involved, Alan Lauder,  had grown up sea-watching from St Abbs Head and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined seeing a large shearwater in the North Sea, let alone both species.

Additionally, in September / October 2023, 2024 and 2025 Ken Shaw, Andy Williams and I had weeks on Lewis and in the second and third years put in a good amount of time sea-watching at the Butt of Lewis. Certainly on one occasion in 2024 this produced a steady passage of Great Shearwaters, such that we were each calling birds as they went through.

And lastly, in October 2024, during a week staying of St Mary's and birding the Scillies, Chris Pendlebury and made the very good decision to take the last Scilly Pelagics trip out to Bishop's Rock of the year on the 22nd, in the hope that the Red-footed Booby would still be there. It was, but just as memorable was the feeding frenzy of shearwaters, including loads of both Cory's and Great, no longer mythic but always epic. 

No photographs of either of the two shearwaters involved are available, I'm afraid. However, this photograph was taken from Porthgwarra on Friday the 13th August, and shows the Scillonian III plying her was back to Penzance two days before we boarded her for our very successful Scillonian Pelagic.

Redhead – Bleasby Gravel Pits, Bleasby, Nottinghamshire, 15^th March 1996

The news of the Redhead in deepest Nottinghamshire was unfortunately not revealed until Saturday the 9th March 2006. As I was already in South Queensferry with my ex-, Gilly, I couldn’t quite bring myself to journey down to Nottinghamshire again over the course of what was left of the weekend, so soon after my previous trip there (for the Cedar Waxwing on the 23rd February 2006). I decided to make the most of my weekend at home. This conviction was briefly swayed when Chris McGuigan phoned on the Sunday afternoon and suggested he was going down for it and all the other good stuff, Black-throated Thrush, Cedar Waxwing, etc.. However, the allure was brief and disappeared altogether when a 04:00 start on Monday morning was suggested. I therefore declined the offer, partly as I realised that behind this was an attempt to get me to take my car.

So, on the Monday, as had been arranged, I ‘phoned Mark Hannay, my birding landowner friend from this time, when I was in Galloway working on the Scotland to Northern Ireland Pipeline Project, about a night out at his place, Cardoness, to look at each other’s holiday photographs from our respective recent trips. I suggested that circumstances had changed somewhat, and Mark indicated that he would be interested in going for it with me. We developed a formative plan, which was further developed on the Tuesday night, but I was still surprised that he was able to get away early on Friday the 15th March. This strategy was confirmed on Thursday night, and so we were able to set off at c.10:30 on the Friday morning. After stops at the post office and bank in Gatehouse-of-Fleet, and the printers in Dumfries, we made our way to Bleasby in Nottinghamshire, arriving by late afternoon.

After a false start – walking alongside the wrong pit, and worse, the terrible stringing by me of one of the two Pochards on it, we were redirected to the Jubilee Pit. We drove back into the village, walked to the pit, and were confronted by some 50 Pochards moving away from us, amongst which Mark quickly located a slightly bigger, ‘odder’ version whilst I opted to put up my ‘scope, although I had glimpsed such a bird as I scanned.

We enjoyed, more or less to ourselves, the bird for some 20 minutes or so as it dived amongst the flock, bringing up large amounts of weed. It was distinctly, surprisingly so, different, bigger and bulkier, with a basically similar overall plumage pattern, except for darker grey flanks and upperparts. The head was rounder, the eye yellow rather than red, and the bill was distinctively marked.

Two (less than useful) 'context' photographs of the gravel pit involved. It's out there somewhere.

Redhead, Bleasby Gravel Pits, Nottinghamshire, March 1996 (photograph credited to unknown).

Eastern Olivaceous Warbler – Collieston, Aberdeenshire, 16^th September 2000

Not sure why, and maybe just excuses, but I quite like this improvised 'half-finished' field sketch attempt to illustrate the Eastern Olivaceous Warbler. It occurred to me that there was limited sense in trying to capture every last detail of every feather tract of a bird we can't (since the advent of Western and Eastern) identify in the field, and anyway, bet of luck getting it to pose in the open long enough to be able to sketch all of it! So this will have to do.

The news of an (Eastern) Olivaceous Warbler at Collieston, in Aberdeenshire on Wednesday the 13th September 2000 had me jumping about somewhat whilst I was waiting for Gillian to return with Ellen and Tessa. I began to instantly formulate my plans, ‘phoning Graham Clark and generally getting ready to go, come what may.

Once Gillian and the girls returned, I discussed my plans with her, and, as a result, it was agreed that I should take Ellen. We jointly packed up everything I might need for her, and then Ellen and I departed at c.12:37.

Despite the fuel crisis and speed cameras on the A90(T), I was determined to get there as soon as possible, and we did so at about 15:00.

I found the scene of the twitch easily enough, which proved to be an area of lawn with a caravan and car access behind some large old houses and gardens in the village of Collieston. This seemed ideal for Ellen as we were away from the road and so it proved, generally so at least. She was in her element and was befriended by a young boy from one of the houses, who offered her some of his chocolate bar.

Unfortunately, despite these seemingly ideal circumstances, the bird was not to be found.

After bribes in the form of a Milky Bar and also a nappy change, we moved to the Manse garden, which seemed to offer more prospect of the bird being there. Again, the proved to be ideal for Ellen, as there was a large lawn surrounded by the wooded cover in which her Dad hoped to locate the bird.

She really enjoyed this setting, in particular the steep slope, which she tried to climb up and down with mixed success, as well as the garden bench and the porch of the Manse, which she invited herself into. Perhaps she was trying to tell me she was cold. The small assembly seemed to cope with her presence in good spirit, but still the bird wasn’t found.

We took the hint and travelled back, stopping off in Stonehaven for fish and chips….. Damn, I had dipped!

However, the bird stuck and so at c.08:20 on Saturday the 16th September, Graham and I left for a weekend in the Aberdeenshire, the prime purpose of which, as far as I was concerned, was to finally get to grips with the Olivaceous Warbler. We arrived at c.11:00 to be told by Angus Murray, Calum Scott, et al., that we had missed it showing well at the Manse garden – by 10 minutes!

We, or particularly I, then endured 3.5 hours of misery trying to get good views of the bird. It continually eluded my forlorn attempts to see it both at the Manse garden, and after it had been flushed (possibly by me!) back at the gardens behind the Post Office. Apart from a Pied Flycatcher and some Goldcrests, I saw little throughout this period. Graham did get adequate views during this time, but for me anyway, these views were dire. When the bird was showing it was always obscured, and often I was only able to follow its movements by following the movements of vegetation.

Graham left to go off birding at c.14:30, after which I preceded to get some 2.5 hours of good views, until his return. Initially, it was watched as it slowly worked its way through the coppiced willows, again betrayed only by the movement of branches, before it finally gave itself up in the dog rose hedge alongside the field and then in the lower branches of the conifer. From then on, it was generally in view in either of the two sycamores or in the conifer.

Whether this apparent change in behaviour was due to the warm afternoon sunshine (in contrast to the weather of the midweek afternoon visit) or the gradual reduction of numbers of birders looking for it (eventually I was one of two people watching it) was not clear, but it certainly did show well for much of the afternoon. Often, especially when it was in the sycamores, I was able to get on it with the ‘scope, and as a result I was able to examine it in some detail.

In flight the bird looked like a large warbler and was apparently grey (a similar shade to male Blackcap). However, when feeding and working its way through the branches of its chosen vegetation, it looked a browner colour

Although a Hippolais warbler, was superficially like a bleached Reed Warbler, both in structure and plumage. It was perhaps a few millimetres bigger than a Reed Warbler, but had a more attenuated appearance, particularly regarding the head and bill. The forehead was flat and sloping, and the bill was long and narrow, with a yellowish base to the dull grey-brown lower mandible. The upper mandible was also dull grey-brown. The ‘facial expression’ was blank, due to a faint supercilium that was concentrated in front of the eye and ended at the rear edge of the indistinct eye-ring with which it merged.

Tail flicking was not seen very often, if at all, and the grey-white outer edges and white tips to outer tail feathers were also not observed. It was though, heard to call very occasionally, a clicking ‘clack’ typically of such species.

It was apparently of the elaeica race (and as such subsequently became a full species, Eastern Olivaceous Warbler, in its own right).

It was eventually seen really well, and although examined in some considerable detail, and obviously an Olivaceous Warbler, the subtle nuances of its plumage compared to confusion species such as Reed Warbler and Booted Warbler and features such as the primary projection, tail-flicking, etc., not necessarily observed.

Eastern Olivaceous Warbler in the hand, Collieston, Aberdeenshire, September 2000 (photograph credited to Paul Baxter).

Gull-billed Tern – Penclacwydd Wildfowl and Wetlands Reserve, near Llanelli, Carmarthenshire, 19^th July 1996

Patience pays off. Having previously bemoaned my luck being in Central Scotland when this potential tick had reappeared in South Wales for the second weekend running, I scored the following Friday. It was my ex’s Gilly long weekend, so I too left work in mid afternoon on the Thursday, to meet up with Gilly and travel to my mother’s in Burnley / her parents in Accrington, taking in the Spanish Sparrow on the edge of the Lake District on the way (if only it was that easy on the previous Sunday!). As we got to Lancashire, a message on the pager informed me that Phil from Bolton was offering a lift. I ‘phoned him from Gilly’s parents, and after he had given me copious amounts of directions, he then suggested a 02:00 departure. I was knackered anyway as it was so, belatedly I declined the offer!

Consequently, I was faced with another solo twitch as Gilly in turn declined my offer. I set the alarm, not knowing what time I wanted to get up at, but, as it was, I awoke anyway at 04:45 and so was away by 05:15. With minor delays in the vicinities of the Birmingham and Cardiff conurbations I made good progress into deepest South Wales. The pager had told me that the bird was still present, on the estuary from the Copperhouse roundabout, but then at 09:06, as I approached Llanelli, the news was updated to say that the bird had left there and flown towards the Penclacwydd Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust reserve. I was therefore able to drive straight there, following the brown ‘constipated duck’ signs. The only trouble was that it wasn’t open until after 09:30. However, just when I was thinking it might have disappeared again by this time, at 09:16, as I got closer, a further message told me that the reserve was now open.

Once there I assembled my gear, and on reaching the entrance was greeted by a very enthusiastic staff member. I paid my (reduced) entrance fee, and was then escorted to the British Steel Hide. From here views across the saltmarsh and pools were possible. Roosting alongside the pools were flocks of Black-headed Gulls, amongst which was the Gull-billed Tern.

I took it in well, as at first it was roosting (looking almost moribund and so easy to draw), but later becoming more active. It flew around circling and wheeling over the saltmarsh, and showing well, at one stage mobbing a Grey Heron with an eel. It continued this pattern of resting and then flying around throughout my stay. 

The atmosphere in the hide was comparatively relaxed due to the ease of seeing this otherwise difficult bird. At one stage it was noted by the assembled crowd in the hide, including Lee Evans, to be really struggling to scratch itself with its right foot. It became apparent that its left leg was gammy as it badly hobbled each time it attempted to stand on its left leg. I said something like, “I wonder how long it will take it to work out that if it swims it will be able to scratch its head whilst it floats,” at which point someone suggested, rather bizarrely, that I must have been a Gull-billed Tern in a past life!?*?

It was excellent to get such good views of an otherwise difficult bird. Its overall appearance was similar, obviously, to Sandwich Tern, with the same basic plumage pattern of light grey upperparts and white underparts, and a black cap. However, the build was heavier, and it was longer legged. The legs were black, as was the bill which was a sturdy dagger shape. The black cap was more like Common Tern in size and shape. Whilst resting, the tail streamers were observed to be just longer than the wing tips, although it was not noted whether this was the case when the bird standing. In flight, the upperwing showed a definite primary wedge on the outer primaries, which was also observed on the underwing. The tail was only slightly forked, perhaps as it was in moult.

An excellent bird, leaving me very grateful that finally one had stayed around!

A general view from the hide at Penclacwydd WWT Reserve.

Gull-billed Tern at Penclacwydd WWT Reserve, Llanelli. Carmathenshire, July 1996 (photograph credited to George Reszeter).

White-tailed Lapwing – Caerlaverock Wildfowl and Wetlands Reserve, Caerlaverock, Dumfries and Galloway, 6^th June 2007

At 10:32 on the morning of Wednesday the 6th June I was travelling south on the M74 to Elizabeth’s in Ryton-on-Dunsmore, Warwickshire. (Warwickshire, where the only previous twitchable White-tailed Plover (as it was in old currency) had been, in 1975; I could have seen it if only I’d starting twitching 18 years before I did!).

I was just passing Ecclefechan when I received a text from my erstwhile mate Stuart Green saying, “There’s a White-tailed Plover at Caerlaverock. Not a wind up”. Driving or not, I immediately ‘phoned Stuart (who was seemingly doing a vantage point survey on a hill somewhere in Ayrshire) for confirmation. However, concurrently, (i.e., also timed at 10:32) I also received a message on my pager telling me the same thing. Stuart informed me that he too was on his way; he was abandoning his survey to twitch Caerlaverock from deepest Ayrshire.

Anyway, suitably motivated, I, er, ‘put my foot down’, and hammered to Caerlaverock. Now, as it turns out, there was a quicker cross-country route from Ecclefechan to Caerlaverock but as I was already on the M74 I continued on to the A75(T) and then west to Dumfries.

Anyway, less than 40 minutes after the news broke I arrived at Caerlaverock, probably amongst the very first person to arrive. It was 11:10.

Having parked up, and gathered my gear. As I did so, another birder arrived and I excitedly asked him if he was here to see the plover. I had misjudged him as he proved to be something of a novice, who, unsurprisingly was oblivious of any such news.

Anyway, I rushed quickly to reception and paid in. I cannot remember whether I received any guidance as to where the bird was at reception (or whether I knew this from the pager messages), but I rushed to Hide 8.

On arrival, rather than a hide full of celebrating twitchers, all eager to get me on the bird, it turned out to be just me and the novice I had met earlier in the car-park!

A what now? Said novice in an otherwise empty hide looking for a complete crip he'd never heard of.

Anyway, thankfully, I was, without too much trouble, able to relocate the bird, such that at 11:39 (less than an hour after first getting the news) I ‘phoned an update to good old Angus ‘Timothy’ Murray at Birdline Scotland.

I enjoyed the bird, and particularly enjoyed virtually having it to myself but obviously other then gradually began to arrive, including Mark Hannay, my land-owner friend from Gatehouse-of-Fleet in Galloway, who I had alerted.

He and I then we went to the Tower Hide, where views were much better (as it was elevated and the bird wasn’t as obscured) but more distant, and by then disrupted by the crowded hordes.

Eventually, because of this, I decided it was time to cut my losses and continue my journey south, having very fortuitously been in the right place at the right time to bang in an amazing bird en route. It was a fourth for Britain (and so supremely rare, certainly at the time!). It wasn’t always like that!

What can I say? Sex on legs! It was an adult, and had mainly buffy light brown upper-parts and under-parts, although the plain face, cheeks and throat and lower breast and under-tail coverts were white. The striking black and white ‘lapwing’ wing pattern was largely hidden at rest (although black and white bands could be seen along the closed wing). It had a longish Lapwing-type black bill, and extra-ordinarily long bright yellow legs. In flight in had solid black wing tips, and broad white mid-wing band and a white rump and tail, beyond which (unsurprisingly!) the long yellow legs trailed.

Stuart never did make it. He ploughed into the back on a car turning right on the notorious A75(T). Fortunately, everyone was alright, but this twitching thing...!

White-tailed Lapwing at Caerlaverock WWT Reserve, Caerlaverock, Dumfries and Galloway, June 2007 (photograph credited to Paul Bowyer).

White-tailed Lapwing at Caerlaverock WWT Reserve, Caerlaverock, Dumfries and Galloway, June 2007 (photograph credited to Paul Bowyer).