Short-billed Dowitcher – Rosehearty, Aberdeenshire, 14^th September 1999

Something a bit different, as it's all about the tertials!!!!

Having spent the early part of the autumn working on a low-key basis, hoping that having time on my hands at this time of year would pay off, what with my new found enthusiasm for birding since the Royal Tern, it did, in a big way.

I was, though, beginning to worry about where my next work might be coming from and so after a day of printing off curricula vitae and letters, and other such administration, I went into South Queensferry to go to the post office at around about 16:00. Whilst in the queue, the mega-alert went off to alert me to the presence of a reported Short-billed Dowitcher at Rosehearty, in Aberdeenshire. I think it was described as a possible at first; certainly, there was an element of doubt, and so there was no really a sudden buzz of anticipation. However, once I had completed my chores in Scotmid, and travelled home I decided that I really had to go for it. This decision was made easier by the quickly changing emphasis of the messages, as what was possible very quickly became definite. Once home, I spent just less than an hour negotiating with Gillian, packing and ‘phoning other birders including Graham Clark, Calum Scott, Ken Shaw, Alistair Henderson, and Stuart Rivers re car-sharing. As I had to be back at 17:00 the following evening to look after Ellen, I was keen to go that night whereas most others I spoke to were more inclined to bide their time.

After doing this I was off at 17:00 for what was a fairly leisurely drive north, with a pit-stop at Dundee. However, the further I got the faster I went as it became more and more obvious that I could make it before dark, and seeing the bird that night would be a particularly good move, especially if it then disappeared. So, I drove faster beyond Aberdeen as it was still twilight and there was a lingering chance of seeing it – even seeing in the gloaming would be better than not seeing it at all. Speedily, skilfully and safely I thrashed on, taking back lanes to Rosehearty. Once there I had to work out where the bird might be and unfortunately, I drove east along the coast road to the next village, Sandhaven, without seeing any other birders or their cars. I returned to Rosehearty and abandoned the car in the forecourt of a garage, and ran down onto the beach, where some locals were walking their dogs on the beach. I asked them if they had seen any other birders and they told me that they had, further along, and that they had been parked alongside the road. I was obviously just too late, it was now very poor light but I went through the motions of going along the beach to the said point to no avail, conscious that it was out there somewhere, and that waders were being flushed as I walked along the beach. Was it with them?

I returned to the car and walked into the square looking for somewhere to stay for the night. Within 50 m of the abandoned car was the Bay Hotel, which, it appeared, did rooms. So, I went into the bar and was then shown up stairs to a perfectly adequate, if a little desolate, room. I reported in and then wandered back across the square to the chip-shop around the corner, which proved to be very entertaining – the youth of today! I had a good chat with the chip-shop owners about the bird and birding, and this proved to be the theme of the rest of the evening as, after eating my chips, I returned to the bar. Here the regulars were watching, ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire’, and after we had watched this, I continued to chat about the reason for me being in Rosehearty. They were genuinely interested in the Short-billed Dowitcher and so it was four pints later before I went up to my room to do my revision! I hastily scribbled some notes from Lewington, Alstrom and Colston on some of the chip wrappings I had carefully saved and then went to bed.

Whether it was the beer or the anticipation I didn’t sleep at all well. I was aware that it was a still, starlit night as I got up several times in the night to see whether it was getting light. I finally gave up at 05:00 and got up, showered, dressed and packed. I was ready to go when I got the pre-arranged knock on the door at 06:00 and quickly rushed downstairs for a full cooked breakfast. It was now light, so I gobbled this down and then checked out with almost indecent haste, before going out to the car and loading up my gear. I walked along the road out of Rosehearty and was somewhat surprised to see some 200 – 300 birders already assembled, an army that had arrived silently during the night. It seemed that I was the only one who had parked in the village, and probably I was the only one who had travelled some way and not slept in the car. However, I didn’t feel much better than some of them looked, despite my somewhat better accommodation arrangements!

Anyway, I joined the gallery on the crest of the fringe of sand-dunes overlooking the sandy and then rocky shore and set up my ‘scope. I wanted to find the bird without having to get directions which I did with ease as it searched for food amongst the pools and seaweed covered rocks about 50 m away from the dunes. It remained on show at similar ranges throughout my stay, although it ranged backwards and forwards along the beach and was flushed a couple of times by walkers and dog-walkers.

As such, the views were good, particularly once the sun was up as it was another bright, still day. As the sunlight improved it allowed gradually improving views of some of the pertinent features of this birds’ identity.

As the bird ranged along the beach so did the gallery, becoming a ‘rolling twitch’ as people moved from one position to the next trying to get better views. Once satisfactory views had been obtained birders began to concentrate on their socialisings and began to drift off for the long journey home. A few others continued to arrive.

I too adopted this approach, ticking off in particular Bernie Beck, Chris McGuigan, Stuart Rivers and many of the usual suspects including, some who looked somewhat happier than when I last saw them the day after the day before at the Royal Tern.

Anyway, back to the bird.

Having ‘prepared’, the previous night I was partially clued up in terms of knowing what I was looking for. The bird was an obvious dowitcher, being about Redshank size, with a strong looking long bill, which was straight, broad-based and blob-tipped, and medium-long legs. The plumage was superficially similar to that of the bird Gillian and I had seen at Leighton Moss two autumns earlier, with dark brown spangled upperparts and light buff-brown underparts and a striking capped appearance emphasised by the pale face and supercilium.

However, gradually as the views improved it was able to get more familiar with the detailed intricacies of the plumage of a juvenile Short-billed Dowitcher. The coverts, scapulars and tertials were all basically brown centred and buff-orange fringed, denoting a juvenile bird, but more significantly the bird was beginning to moult into winter plumage, as evidenced by the first grey scapulars coming though and also several missing tertials on the birds’ right hand side. This feature was very handy indeed as it revealed two things.

One, it exposed the entire underlying tertial to scrutiny, and it could be seen to be an intricately patterned feather with a dark brown centre and orangey fringe with a jagged edged pattern on the outer web – the tiger striped tertials. Never before have I drawn just one feather rather than the entire bird in my notebook! Two, it also exposed the tail / rump pattern, which admittedly, I was not aware was diagnostic at the time but which I do remember to be a finely barred pattern of dark brown lines on an off-white base, more or less equally spaced and extending both up the rump and onto the undertail coverts.

Otherwise, the bird was very similar to the Leighton Moss Long-billed Dowitcher, although the cap and supercilium appeared more distinct, with an irregular line to the cap above the eye and the upper breast, etc.; it might have been more flushed buff-orange.

I saw the bird in flight a couple of times and observed that it had an un-patterned wing apart from the pale trailing edge to the wing, and also it had a pale area extending up the lower back from the rump.

Generally, though, it worked backwards and forwards along the beach rock pools and as such was in some ways reminiscent on the Gray-tailed Tattler further along the coast at Burghead.

I watched the bird for some 2.5 hours before departing and thoroughly enjoyed being on a twitch again. This hobby is not that bad after all!

Scenes!

Short-billed Dowitcher, Rosehearty, Aberdeenshire, September 1999 (credited to Steve Young).

Northern Waterthrush – Heybridge, Maldon, Essex, 18^th January 2024

After the incredibly amazing, but immensely frustrating (I was in the wrong places at the wrong times and hence unable to get to the right places at the right times), super-flurry of North American wood warblers during autumn 2023, I had predicted that there would be one last bonus late in the year when North American wood warblers would be discovered wintering somewhere in the UK (a la the Golden-winged Warbler). It was a sound prediction. However, I was wrong, but only because this didn’t take place during late 2023…….. .

So it was that 2024 got off to a tremendous start. On Wednesday the 3rd January a local birder, Simon Wood, was dumbfounded to find a Northern Waterthrush in his garden in Heybridge, near Maldon, in deepest Essex. From the following day onwards, sightings of it settled into a pattern involving it generally being seen at least a couple of times each day when it visited a nearby creek to forage and bathe before flying back to the privacy of the gardens behind the houses which were alongside the nearby road. Its routine involved an early morning visit, and then perhaps a couple or more later on in the day.

I was enjoying some prolonged downtime at home (having been away for a high proportion of 2023) as I wasn’t returning to work at Castle Stuart, outside Inverness, until w/c 15th January). In many ways, it was the ideal time for me to go on a twitch, but I was somehow less than enthused, as deepest Essex was a long way from home, in several senses, and driving all that way ‘just’ to see a bird was increasingly passé.

I just didn’t fancy it as a drive. A few years earlier, it would have been a no-brainer when my father had still been alive, as I could have ‘staged’ in Chesterfield. And a few months earlier, it would have been a no-brainer when my best mate Gary still owned his flat in St. Albans, as I could have ‘staged’ there, but he had finally concluded the sale in October 2023….. .

So, initially at least, I discounted the idea of twitching it. However, gradually, as it ‘stuck’ and various mates connected with it and tweeted to advise the world so, I began to crack. In particular, a succession of my ‘Lockdown Listing’ mates on our Birding Bantering WhatsApp successfully twitched it – Jonny Holliday and Chris Griffin on Friday the 5th January and then Dennis Morrison (plus his son James and friend John Forbes) and David Steel on Saturday the 13th January. In addition, Bernie Beck travelled for it on Friday the 12th January.

This all subtly changed the dynamic. If Dennis could twitch it from Edinburgh, why couldn’t I?

In addition, I was encouraged by the David Steel, and so I decided I could do it…. .

The day he and Dennis posted their news (and images) on Birding Bantering I had posted, “Hummmm” and, “FFS” on the same group. Later that day, after Steely had messaged me direct saying, “Sorry Brian. I’m in Hull so left from there this morning so wasn’t an opportunity to join up to twitch. It’s worth it”, I responded by saying, “Hiya Steely. My comment wasn’t aimed at you or Dennis, but related to my inability to sort something. I have a plan now, but need it to stick around for a week……😲".

This delay referred to the fact that I was already committed to working on the second golf course project at Cabot Highlands (Castle Stuart) during the w/c 15th January.

I travelled there on Monday the 15th January, as we had scheduled an important meeting on Tuesday the 16th January. My journey from South Queensferry to outside Inverness on the M90 and A9(T) and A96(T) was fine, as although there had been overnight snow, this was only apparent at higher altitudes.

However, there was more snow further east along the A96(T), and as a result the person we were meeting cancelled on the Tuesday, as he didn’t fancy travelling from Forres in the conditions involved. As such, having already addressed other pertinent matters whilst on-site, I had the option of travelling back to South Queensferry on the afternoon / evening of the 16th. However, it started snowing that afternoon and, as such, rather than tackling the A9(T) in snow and in the dark, I opted to stay over for an extra night in my luxurious accommodation whilst working at Cabot Highlands, Castle Cottage.

My provisional game plan involved using Gary’s place in Barrowford, East Lancashire, as my staging post on the long, long journey south. As such, I had primed Gary with a WhatsApp on the Monday, suggesting there was a lot of ifs, buts and maybes (including how long I would be working near Inverness, whether there would be any snow to complicate travel, and, not least, whether the object of my quest would survive long enough) but, all things being equal, I was planning on travelling to see it via Barrowford later in the week.

So I reasoned even if I had driven to South Queensferry on the Tuesday, I would still have to drive from there to Barrowford on the Wednesday, and so it made sense to delay my departure until the following morning (when the weather was forecast to be bright and sunny), rather than risk tackling the A9(T) in snow and in the dark, and then complete the long drive from Inverness to Barrowford, in relatively easy conditions.

That was the plan. So it was that soon after 08:00 on the Wednesday morning (after a reasonably night’s rest) I departed Castle Cottage.

The snow had continued during the night and as such the drive to and through the automatic gates along the tree lined avenue between the cottage and the B9039 was on virgin snow. I negotiated this (and the reluctant to fully open gates) without any real problems and edged onto the unploughed and un-gritted B9039. This involved more tricky driving conditions, but by driving suitably slowly I (and other users of the road) safely made our way.

The A96(T) and the A9(T) were suitably ploughed and gritted, and as such, in terms of snow and ice, driving was much less tricky. However, although I had carefully prepared the car both before leaving South Queensferry and Castle Stuart (I’d pumped up the tyres, filled up with petrol, and ensured the screen-wash was topped up) there was problem, a significant problem, that made driving very tricky. Overnight temperatures had been very low, and despite my best efforts, the screen-wash was frozen solid, and I couldn’t get it to work. And there was a lot of salty spray, meaning that my wind-screen frequently became very smeared. This necessitated stopping to clean the windscreen with the water I had available as a contingency, but this was problematic, as the lay-bys on the A9(T) were hard to stop in (partly as I couldn’t see them coming and partly as they hadn’t necessarily been cleared of snow).

I had to get inventive, and resorted to using the spray from vehicles I was following and / or which were oncoming to provide some water to facilitate using the windscreen wipers. But it was all very fraught, and all the more so because of the low, bright winter sun I was frequently driving into. Frankly, it was dangerous, as my viewing through the windscreen was often badly obscured by the smeared salt and dirt. But there was no way the screen-wash was going to thaw out; as I drove through southern Speyside to car’s thermometer registered -16^OC.

As such, the drive from Inverness to Perth and beyond was an ordeal, but thankfully the screen-wash did eventually at least partially thaw, such that I could effectively use the windscreen wipers.

I continued on the A9(T) beyond Perth, and then joined the M9 and the M80. I struggled to navigate from the M80/M73 to the M74, but otherwise, thankfully, the second part of my journey between Castle Stuart and Barrowford was a lot easier. All the same, the entire journey took eight hours, a long, long drive. The roads had one last surprise for me as I neared my destination, when, to my surprise, I discovered that the A682 between Gisburn and Barrowford hadn’t been ploughed and gritted, which meant that the some of the last few miles involved the snowiest / iciest driving conditions of my entire journey!

I finally arrived in Barrowford soon after 16:00 and immediately filled the car up with petrol and purchased some screen-wash at a nearby service station, and also filled my emergency water container.

After a relatively quiet evening with Gary involving a couple of pints in the fantastic Lamb working man’s club after my take-away steak pudding, chips, mushy peas and gravy (I’d moved into twitching food mode) I retired to bed, planning to get up and go early if I was awake, but otherwise to get up and go when the alarm went off.

This was at 07:00; I didn’t get up early as although I woke at various times during the night, I really didn’t fancy driving at 04:00 in the morning. So it was, by 07:15 I was on the road, taking the M65, and then the A56 and M66 to the M62, and then the M62 to the A1(M) / A1.

I briefly stopped at a service station north of Grantham to have a bowl of breakfast cereal before continuing on. My route involved taking the A14 to the M11 and then, from near Bishop’s Stortford taking various roads deeper into deepest Essex. Eventually, at about 12:45, I duly arrived in Heybridge.

For the latter part of my journey, I used the directions option on the Rare Bird Alert app (basically a link to Google Maps) to navigate my way to my destination. I was aware there was a suggestion that birders shouldn’t park in the residential road in order to minimise any issues with local residents, and so I opted to park in the car-park at the relatively nearby Bentalls Shopping Centre.

Having done so, I quickly clambered out of the car and into my coat, and assembled my gear – gloves, notebook, binoculars, camera, telescope and tripod, etc..

Fairly sure I had passed the entrance to the road in question, I quickly (or as quickly as I can nowadays!) walked back towards it. I asked two women coming the other way if they knew where birders had been going, and gratifyingly they broadly confirmed my suspicions and indicated where the road involved was.

I quickly crossed the main road and continued off along the road indicated, although it looked less than promising, as it was flanking by various industrial units, etc., which didn’t look very good in terms of Northern Waterthrush habitat. Outside one of them (which proved to be within 3 or 400 metres of my destination) I asked someone who worked at one of the units the same question, but he was completely oblivious, unhelpfully. Now acting solely on blind instinct, I continued on, and thankfully things started looking more promising very quickly. To the right of the road there was an area of open land, which proved to be either side of a drainage ditch which was at the head of Heybridge Creek. And as I crossed over the ditch on the road, birders were visible standing on the embankment of a culverted crossing of the same ditch some 100 metres downstream, Hurray! I was in the right place!!

I quickly navigated my way along a track to join them, and set up my ‘scope at the nearer end of the scattered gathering on some 15 birders scattered along the embankment of the culverted crossing. Some were seated on part of the culvert structure, and all looked less than focussed. I asked the two closest to me when it had last been seen, and was informed that it hadn’t been seen again since the initial sighting early that morning. Not good. I reluctantly continued my conversation with the two birders next to me, but was less than impressed to find that unlike me, they had travelled a relatively short way. I explained that I had been in Inverness at 08:00 the previous morning, and was asked whether I had travelled all that way just to see the bird. Less than impressed, I retorted, ‘Why else would I be here????’

My demeanour wasn’t helped by the need to, er, empty my bladder, and as I weighed up my options, I also began to resign myself to having to stop over if the bird didn’t show. Coming all that way and then leaving without seeing it wasn’t an option, I’d have to stay somewhere local and be on site before daylight the following day.

Having both ensured my ‘scope was in focus and checked out the drainage ditch with my 

binoculars in an attempt to be ready, should it suddenly appear, I skulked off back along the track and then along another one branching off it, adjacent to which there were sufficient hawthorn bushes to largely obscure me from the gathered birders and the adjacent houses whilst I did the necessary.

Relief!!! Massive relief. (@1)

I returned to my station and resumed my vigil, checking out the banks of the ditch and getting my eye in with the various Robins, House Sparrows, etc..

At least now I could concentrate, and as such, I felt a tad more optimistic.

And with some justification, as within a very few minutes a bird flew in, and with very little commotion the assembled crowd realised it was the Northern Waterthrush (I recall someone very quietly and calmly saying, ‘That’s it’ or similar).

Anyway, I was on it, and it was on (my list)!

Relief!!! Massive relief. (@2)

It had dropped into the drainage channel immediately below the culverted crossing, and as such was within a few metres of me and the rest of the assembled gallery.

Almost immediately it appeared, a local couple who were clearly interested in seeing it, also arrived. The woman approached me and asked (in a normal voice) whether the bird was there. I (politely) sssshhhhed her as I was concerned that any unexpected noise might flush the bird. The gallery had been impressively, respectfully, virtually silent despite the bird suddenly appearing for the first time in hours. Gratifyingly so, given what it could have been like.

Being right down below us, feeding unobtrusively along the margins of the ditch or, indeed in the entrance to the culvert, the bird wasn’t necessarily always on view or easy to locate, so I, firstly, helped the woman get on it, and then, secondly, when they swapped places, the man get on it. This largely involved suggesting they should stand on the other side of me and then, as necessary, giving directions. As such, they both duly saw it, he, in particular, lucking out, as, outrageously, it appeared before him on the concrete headwall of the culvert itself immediately in front of him. This was very gratifying, as I felt I had done my bit for local relations.

However, meanwhile, I was very careful to make sure I was also taking the bird in as best as I could. As suggested, it was often out of sight beneath the culvert headwall or the near bank of the drainage ditch, too close, and when it was in view, I did spend some time unsuccessfully faffing around trying to get some photos.

However, albeit briefly, it also flirted itself outrageously, floosy-like, which allowed me to give it a good grilling in the ‘scope at ranges of 10 – 20 m or so. It flitted about from one place to the other searching for food in the drainage ditch, often using remnants of aquatic vegetation still above the surface of the partially frozen drainage ditch as perches whilst doing so. Particularly when it did this a little further away along the channel of the ditch, I was able to give it a good grilling with the (zoomed down) ‘scope.

Almost as suddenly as it had appeared it suddenly disappeared, flying off back towards the gardens from whence it had appeared.

I, and everyone else in the well-behaved crowd, knew it was time to take our leave too. Presumably a good proportion of those there had braved the bitterly cold conditions for several hours, and, as there was no guarantee it would be back anytime soon, decided to cut their losses and leave.

Conversely, I’d been there less than half an hour, but I wasn’t going to see it any better, even if it did return, and I had another long drive ahead of me. So, I too decide to leave to seek somewhere more comfortable and some sustenance and then commence the long drive back. I’d noted there was an Asda adjacent to the car-park where I had parked and planned to get something to eat and drink there. However, on arriving back at the car I noticed there was also a café there, and this proved to be ideal. It was Turkish-run, and besides providing perfect twitch fodder (a large portion of egg and chips) I also enjoyed talking to one of the owners about coming to see the bird and working in Turkey.

Having consumed my egg and chips, and roughly sketched the bird, I returned to the car, and commenced the long drive back to Barrowford. Incredibly, I had been in Heybridge for less than a couple of hours when I departed. It was around 14:30 when I started back, again using Google Maps to navigate back trunk roads / motorways.

Once again, I stopped at the services north of Grantham to (partially, at motorway prices!) top up with petrol. Other than back-logged traffic on the A1(M) approaching the M62, the journey went well, and I was back in Barrowford almost exactly twelve hours after I had departed. I’d ‘phoned Gary to indicate I would be very keen on having a celebratory pint or two, so we went to the fantastic Banker’s Draft real ale pub nearby to do so, before having the potato and bacon bake he’d prepared in his slow-cooker. An excellent end to a more than excellent day. Whilst in the pub, I tried to explain to Gary the sheer euphoria I experience when I see a new bird (something that increases as my list does). To do so, and to try to help him understand, I compared it with the euphoria he and I would experience from seeing Burnley very unexpectedly win away from home, in, for example, a cup tie against a nominally much better team. He refuted that seeing a bird could provide such joy, but I liked my analogy.

I was ecstatic though, after all, to have another Yank warbler on my list and after such a truly epic drive.

So, besides being late to the party in terms of only finally seeing it more than two weeks after it had first turned up, I was also very late to the party in terms of catching up with the autumn 2023 ‘influx’ of North American wood warblers.

Of course, in birding (okay, twitching), as in life, you make your own luck, but if ever there was an opportunity to add to my ‘North American wood warblers list’ it was autumn 2023, which, as is evidenced in the accompanying table, was a completely unprecedented North American wood warbler -fest.  That I hadn’t connected with any as a result of continually being in the wrong place and the wrong time felt, at the very least, a tad unlucky. (Not that the influx necessarily involved birds which were ‘easy’ to twitch from Central Scotland, but all the same…..).

* Nominally! Theoretically, seven additional North American wood warbler species (and in some instances more than one individual of!) were ‘available‘ to add to my existing six species in autumn 2023. However, although some of these were relatively long-staying, as ever, they were mainly on islands which were difficult to access. Moreover, in autumn 2023 I was on the Isle of May between the 2nd and 9th September, Lewis between the 16th and 23rd September, mainland Shetland between the 2nd and 6th October and Scilly between the 14th and 23rd October (and working between times) so I was never quite in the right place at the right time. This ‘co-ordinated (nominal) dipping’ meant that the Northern Waterthrush was a very welcome ‘late autumn’ bonus.

As such, that I eventually did so as a result of a truly epic twitch the following winter made my euphoria all the more so. There’s just something about North American wood warblers, and I was ecstatic to get another on my list.

Hastily moving on from the superficial ‘North American wood warbler meets pipit’ analogy, the bird was largish (for a North American wood warbler), with a shortish tail, and stoutish bill and legs. The entire upperparts, including the upper-tail and wings, were dark brown (and, apart from the head, entirely unmarked), whereas the underparts were buffish-white and heavily streaked with dark brown streaking. The head pattern included a very long buffish-white supercilium which reached the nape. The overall head pattern was strongly reminiscent of Redwing. The bill was thick-based and tapered to a sharp tip and was horn / dark horn in colour. The legs were bubble-gum pink in colour. It energetically bobbed and flicked its tail, and frequently flew from place to place, including vegetation sticking up above the water / ice, searching for food.

Northern Waterthrush, Heybridge, Maldon, Essex, January 2024 (back of the camera photograph credited Dennis Morrison).