Grey-headed Plover – Low Newton-by-the-Sea, Northumberland, 5^th May 2023

See, that's the thing with this here birding affliction.

Just when you think you’re on top of things it yanks you back to the awful(?) reality that there’s still plenty else to see, or that you need to see.

After (finally – after not connecting with it in Lothian when it was first identified and relocated on subsequent days in mid-winter 2022/2023 and after it had been rediscovered in Fife on Friday 28th April 2023) catching up with the Stejneger’s Scoter (and all and sundry from down my birding years) at Lower Largo in Fife on the morning of Sunday 30th April, I journeyed to Castle Stuart near Inverness, where I was working once again.

I basked in a warm sense of satisfaction, as a result of finally connecting with a much sought after first for the United Kingdom with relative ease and being back working at Castle Stuart, my all-time favourite project. Life was good. Very good.

This warm glow lasted less than 24 hours.

I cannot remember just how and when I became aware on the presence of another ‘first for’ (this one being only just on the radar) in the form of a Grey-headed Lapwing (a situation complicated by problems with Rare Bird Alert) but certainly there were 17 messages on RBA from 10.55 onwards during the course of Monday 1st May, and Twitter was alive with people connecting with it from then onwards.

Having just arrived / started work at Castle Stuart I had no such option, not in the immediate term anyway.

I was working as the Ecological Clerk of Works (ECoW) at Castle Stuart on the project which finally involved building a second golf course there, and construction had only been underway for less than a month. I was in post to satisfy a Planning Condition. The terms of this involved me being on site a few days each fortnight as required, and being that the project was just getting underway, there was a lot of ‘required’. I’d envisaged being on-site all week (even if Stuart McColm, my line manager, might be concerned about the hours that this would involve) and effectively, the week had only just begun.

Sod’s Law.

I tried to concentrate on work and reconciled myself to the idea it wasn’t going to stick, and as such, I shouldn’t get too hung up about it.

However, news came through on the Tuesday morning, ‘It’ was still there. And on a regular basis social media informed me of more and more friends, etc., connecting with it, a species of which I had been completely, blissfully unaware of until that Monday morning. 

GGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRR………. .

… head down, continue to try to ignore, continue to try to concentrate on work matters. And the same again on Wednesday …… and then Thursday.

But the longer it ‘stuck’, the more the week progressed, the more work I accomplished, the more a plan formulated in my head. Just if, IF it was to stick until Friday, I could get a flyer (as it was a long weekend because of the Coronation of Charles III) and see it ‘on the way home’ (albeit that this would involve driving 1.5 – 2 hours beyond home, before then driving back).

Mik Wells, the Construction Manager and my house mate, was in on my plan, and supportive of it. In fact, he questioned why I didn’t just go for it earlier in the week, but I had things to do, including commitments. It just wasn’t in my nature to break these. Amongst them was a much-heralded evening of beer and food with Mik at the Clubhouse on the evening of Thursday 4th May. And then the following morning, I was hopeful of meeting Gordon Howat of R&A Sustainable Agronomy Services. He had provided useful source documents enabling me to address certain aspects of various planning conditions. Meeting him could only be a good thing.

However, earlier on the Thursday I packed my bags as best as I could and loaded up the car with everything I could.

Mik and I then went to the Clubhouse for our evening, which was very enjoyable – two pints of Black Isle Brewery Goldfinch IPA and a piri-piri chicken burger and chips in Mik’s company with fantastic views over the Moray Firth to the Black Isle.

When we’d finished, young Charlotte, the bar and restaurant manageress, gave us a lift back to Castle Cottage, so that I didn’t have to drive.

So it was that the following morning there WAS positive news at 07:07. My plan quickly kicked into gear. I rapidly washed, dressed and packed and then walked from Castle Cottage to the Clubhouse. Here I was treated with the usual exemplary service and treated myself to a bacon roll with my latte. I messaged Stuart about the impending arrival of Gordon Howat, and responded to an e-mail from Andrew Howard, the Factor for Moray Estates.

It was just 08:20.

As I finished my e-mail Stuart arrived at the clubhouse accompanied by Gordon Howat, to whom he introduced me. The three of us sat down for a quick meeting during which we discussed the all-singing, all-dancing Golf (and Environment) Management Plan which I was producing to satisfy another of the planning conditions. It’s purpose was to enable the more formalised management of the golf course and the habitats therein and nearby, as well as providing a home for all the good stuff required for Golf Environment Organisation accreditation (and Audubon Society certification…).

All very useful, despite my circumstances.

Still, I was soon away, and commenced my long drive south on the A9(T) and M90, past home in South Queensferry, and then around the city bypass and south on the A1(T) to the Northumberland coast. This went well.

As I drove on the minor roads between to A1(T) and my destination outside High Newton-by-the-Sea, I mulled over just how many stonking birds Northumberland had provided for me down the years.

Waren Mill, Bamburgh, Seahouses, Beadnell….. . Here I was jerked from my reminiscences as I realised, contrary to the RBA directions, this wasn’t to where I should be navigating, but rather I should be finding my way to Newton-by-the-Sea.

No real problem though, I quickly parked up, re-assessed and then navigated straight to High Newton-by-the-Sea. Here I again stopped (near the pub I had enjoyed langoustines at with Ellen and Tessa years earlier) and assessed which way I need to go to find the Newton Steads car-park. Fortunately, I opted for the right option, although I was a little phased by signs suggesting ‘no parking beyond here’ en route to the said car-park, such that I sought clarification from two birders walking back along the lane towards me, and as I was to find out, towards the bird.

It was 14:00, and I had been driving for five hours.

Anyway, once I had located the car-park and parked up, I wandered back across the car-park to the ticket machine. In doing so, I bumped into Mike Fraser, the ex-Lothian and Borders RSPB Conservation Officer who was with a friend of his. I chatted to them for somewhile (I always had a lot of time for him) before he encouraged me just to go. So, having faffed about at the ticket machine before successfully getting a ticket for £4.50 and placing it in my car, I was off. But which way? Mike had offered directions, but as ever, these hadn’t really registered, and so, to an extent, I was making it up as I went along. Back along the lane along which I’d driven, and then right along a track through self-catering accommodation, etc.. It felt sort of right, but sort of wrong, and I couldn’t afford the latter.

I asked a woman outside one of the self-catering places, who turned out to be a cleaner. When I asked her about the ‘rare bird’ she just commented along the lines that ‘people like you had been going that way and that way’. At least this seemed vaguely promising. I continued on my way, and it slowly emerged that I was walking on the route to a viewing point along what was effectively a courtesy access granted by the farmer.

I followed this through the complex of self-catering and similar, to beyond, from where I could see birders on the soil mounds of a compound off to the left – the viewpoint of the adjacent flat fields frequented by the bird and others.

As quickly as being jiggered allowed, I made my way there, and once in the compound, clambered up onto the soil bund at a point at which I was able to do this.

I assembled my ‘scope next to a lad who had been behind me at the ticket machine, and who had overtaken me as we arrived at the compound. He was quickly onto the bird. I was less so, but was determined to find it myself.

This I did, although it was initially well-hidden behind and then within a dense patch of reed canary grass around one of the shallow pools within the extensive flat field involved. Greylag Geese, Mallards and Lapwings were also present here.

Anyway, I had seen it, or at least its head and neck. I waited, and eventually it emerged, and despite the weird combination of heat haze and haar, I could finally see all of the bird. After a short while it flew off south calling, but soon returned, having been tracked by the bloke stood next to me, who commentated as it went south and then returned north. As it flew back almost overhead and briefly circled and dropped back into the field it continued to call and also, very briefly, displayed in flight.

Once back in the chosen field, apart from one or two short flights, it generally wandered around feeding in the typical walking and pausing way of a plover, This allowed me to take it in in a relaxed way, getting subsequent arrivals to my left onto it, and discussing it and the scoter-fest with those to my right, including the young lad, who proved to be an erstwhile friend of Rob Dowley’s from Shropshire whom I had previously met on Unst.

I was struck by its similarity with other large plovers I had seen elsewhere in the world, in particular with Southern Lapwing in Trinidad and Tobago and Chile and with Spur-winged Plover in New Zealand, as it was a large plover well-adapted to exploiting the open areas of wet grassland habitats created by mankind (it also recalled both Sociable Plover and White-tailed Plover in flight, due to the wing pattern).

It was a statuesque plover (potentially twice the size of nearby Lapwings) which was often tall and erect. However, it also had a bizarre ‘banana-like’ posture at times.

The rounded grey head caused me to think of both Pallas’s Sandgrouse and Wood Pigeon on occasion.

It had ‘Collared Dove brown’ upperparts, with black wing-tips and a ‘Wood Pigeon grey’ head, neck and upper breast. It had a distinctive almost solid black U-shaped breast band, and white underparts.

The tip of the tail had a brownish black edging, and as suggested, the wing pattern was the similar to that of Sociable or White-tailed Plover, involving black primaries, a triangular white band extending from the alula and then right across the hind wing of each wing, with a mid-brown triangle extending from the bend in the wing across the forewing to the body. It had long bright yellow legs and a longish black-tipped bright yellow plover type bill.

I watched it for some 90 minutes before I decided I needed to get on. I arrived back at the car just before my £4.50 car-parking ticket lapsed, and travelled back to South Queensferry, exhausted but elated.

Grey-headed Plover, Low Newton-by-the-Sea, Northumberland, May 2023 (photograph credited to Gary Thorburn).

Franklin’s Gull – near Scorton Gravel Pits and Bolton-on-Swale, North Yorkshire, 12^th November 1991

At the time in the moving feast that is listing (due mainly to taxonomic changes) this was my 365th bird and I made some comment about the number of days in the year... . I’ll not do that here.

Whilst working on the North West Ethylene Pipeline on Tuesday the 12th November 1991 I sneaked off from the northern part of the pipeline route in my jurisdiction near Lancaster to traverse the Pennines and indulge in some nostalgia travelling through the Yorkshire Dales (and back!) to finally catch up with this one.

Once there (where?) I wondered why, as I was faced by hundreds of Black-headed Gulls following a tractor and plough in a very large field adjacent to a tip and working gravel pit.

One solitary birder, with wife, had the field under review but the distance and the size / moves of the flock, not to mention the weather, looked distinctly unpromising. So I set up ‘scope and steeled myself for a long scan. However, during discussions with the other birder I found out the object of our quest was still partially hooded, so although distinctly unimpressed, I became a bit more impressed. But several scans later I was a bit less impressed again. 

Some other birders arrived but we didn’t have any news to give them widespread optimism.

But..... salvation was at hand. The now very bored (non-birding?) wife emerged from the car, and took over the ‘scope, and immediately pronounced, “There’s one there with a hood!”. At the same time, my most recent scan settled on the same bird. I alerted the other others, and then took it in.

Unfortunately, as we attempted to get closer views, our advance coincided with the tractor driver dismounting the tractor and flushing the flock. But, although it had been distant views, these were still reasonable ones.

The darker grey mantle, small size, dark head and striking black and white primary tips were the standout features noted.

In April 2008 I caught up with another in the gull roost at Draycote Water, Warwickshire.

Franklin's Gull, Bolton-on-Swale, North Yorkshire, November 1991 (photographer unknown).

Black-faced Bunting –Pennington Flash Country Park, Leigh, Greater Manchester, 12^th March 1994

Having been alerted by the pager to the presence of a Black-faced Bunting at, of all places, Pennington Flash Country Park, one of the places I used to work at when I was Assistant Wildlife Warden in Wigan, on the morning of Wednesday the 9th March 1994, I had to bide my time. I was forced to sweat it out, knowing Paul Pugh, my erstwhile twitching buddy and rival, had already seen it even before the news was released as he lived very close by in Leigh (and it had been caught and ringed by Peter Alker, my erstwhile colleague at Wigan Metro). This frustration was made worse, when it emerged that Mike Thompson, another twitching buddy from when I lived in St. Albans, had made it on the Thursday morning, having been alerted by me (giving him a nice problem to resolve!)

No pressure!

So it was that on the Friday I left work on the Scotland to Northern Ireland Pipeline Project in Newton Stewart in Galloway in the afternoon, and travelled to Paul’s in Leigh, just 0.5 mile and a few hours away from my scheduled meeting with the newest Sibe on the British list (assuming it would be accepted, obviously.....).

I was up at 06:00 and there (with parking ticket) by 06:40. The crowd of c.90 had already occupied the track through the areas of landscaping planting but Paul’s local knowledge stood me in good stead. By moving further along the track to a point from which I was able to look directly along the net ride / feeding area, I was in pole position when the bird appeared at c.07:00.

I was about 25 m away from where it apparently showed feeding amongst the other buntings and finches. Viewing even from this prime position was not easy due to the intervening shrubs, etc., and the rain. Did I say it was raining? It was raining.

However, whilst watching the comings and goings of the Reed Buntings, in particular, tension was mounting. Where was it? Had it gone? Due to Paul’s stories of its superficial likeness to a Dunnock the appearance of these pseudos caused further flutters.

Then there it was! Yes! I knew it must be it, but Paul’s shout confirmed my suspicions. Apparently non-descript, it did indeed resemble a Dunnock, but the white under-tail coverts and outer tail feathers and dark grey hood were immediately obvious. As further views, in better light, were obtained, the bunting-type beak with a flesh-coloured base / lower mandible and the more subtle aspects of the head plumage (a bit like a first-winter male Reed Bunting with a moustachial stripe, etc.), became more apparent. Otherwise, the plumage was typical of a streaked bunting, although it had two reasonably prominent wing-bars.

It had surprisingly secretive behaviour – it was skulking, and generally on the ground, scuttling from the cover to feed with the Reed Buntings, occasionally tail-pumping, before scuttling back.

I managed several quite prolonged views with the ‘scope due to the position I had managed to get, and this predictable pattern of behaviour.

It was good to see such a bird under these circumstances (which were like scenes on the Scillies) on Paul’s doorstep, twitching a mega in Wigan Metro, of all places. However, controversy reared its ugly head with aspersions being cast about the birds’ origin. But I was happy enough..... (although I commented that I’d be counting Chestnut-flanked White-eye and Verditer Fycatcher next!).

Thankfully, it was duly accepted as a first for Britain and Ireland.

Many years later, a second bird was seen on Bressay during the fantastic October of 2016 (meaning that I had seen two of the seven records prior to 2021). Although it wasn’t new for me. once again, in that remarkable autumn, I was standing next to Ken Shaw when we were watching a bird that was new for either one of us, or both of us.

Black-faced Bunting. Pennington Flash Country Park, Leigh, Greater Manchester, March 1994 (photograph credited to Paul Pugh). 

Black-faced Bunting. Pennington Flash Country Park, Leigh, Greater Manchester, March 1994 (photographs credited to Paul Pugh). 

Black-faced Bunting. Bressay, Shetland, October 2016 (photograph credited to Stuart Piner). We did indeed only see the bird in flight, but nothing like as well as this!

 Yellow-browed Bunting –St. Agnes, Scillies, Cornwall, 19^th October 1994

Sketch of the Yellow-browed Bunting, attempting (and failing!) to capture the epic moment when it appeared at the top of a previously quivering stem of vegetation.

On Monday the 19th October 1994, towards the end of an excellent day of birding on St. Agnes and Gugh, including a mystery tacking Sylvia warbler, a Dusky Warbler (and a Little Bunting overhead there – or was it?), Peregrine, Firecrest, etc., Gilly and I found ourselves at The Parsonage, chatting to Ray Turley, whilst casually working our way through the numerous Chiffchaff.

We were wondering about which way to go back to the quay as it was 16:00. We opted to go back past the Great Pool, so that Gilly could see some more of the island.

So it was that we again bumped into Ray Turley along with some eight others (most of whom appeared to be by-standers, apart from John Wright, whose bird it ultimately was) trying to sort out an ‘odd’ Little Bunting which was in the small field they were looking into at a gate into opposite the Fruit Cage and near the old obs.. We joined them and almost immediately both Gilly and I were on it as it hopped about on the ground in front of a line of currant bushes within 10 m.

Views were consequently good as the bird fed on the bare ground amongst sparse weed cover. However, the bird was working away from us, although some crown stripes could be seen. These were steely white – it was not a Little Bunting.

Suddenly it obligingly went up on a dead stem and showed brilliantly. I, it seemed, initially was the only one on it and gorged myself on the view whilst trying to blurt out directions. Obvious were the bright yellow splodges on the supercilium. I got others onto it and then moved towards John Wright and said, “It’s got yellow on it! He immediately put the identity to it, and shouted, “Yellow-browed Bunting! It’s a Yellow-browed Bunting”. Ray Turley asked for it to be put out on the Citizen Band radio. Only then did we question the identity – could it be an American sparrow – such as White-throated Sparrow?

Within a minute, birders were descending, crashing into our backs, and I became more pre-occupied with crowd control. The bird, needless to say, was flushed. So were we. We left, convinced that we would be doing very well to get better views.

The lasting impression was the stunning head pattern as the whole bird was not clearly seen.

Only some considerable time later did it emerge that Calum Scott, Stuart Rivers and Mark Oksien (and other Scottish based birders?) had been staying very close by and had spent a couple of days or so trying to sort out the mystery bunting they kept on seeing. Small world stuff, as I know each of them well, for instance, having worked and socialised with Calum, served on the Isle of May Bird Observatory Trust Committee with Mark and Stuart, and visited both Barra and the Isle of May with them in various instances. And yes, all of this was a long time before they 'discovered' Barra.

Yellow-browed Bunting, St Agnes, Scilly, October 1994 (photograph credited to Rob Wilson).

Red-footed Booby – Bishop Rock Lighthouse, west of the Scillies, Scilly, 22^nd October 2023

There's a Red-footed Booby perched on the net!!!!!

When a Red-footed Booby was observed during a pelagic off the Scillies on the 7th August 2023 I really thought nothing of it. Ultra-rare boobies were species which were, as far as I was concerned, always going to be out of reach. After all, the only previous record involved a bird found exhausted on a beach in St. Leonards-on-Sea in Sussex on the 4th September 2016, before it was rehabilitated by the RSPCA at a specialist RSPCA facility at Mallydams Wood in Hastings. Here it remained, out of reach of those who argued they were entitled to see it …… (ho-hum…) until it was repatriated to Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands in mid-December. Unfortunately, it then died there whilst still in quarantine.

Yes, this tropical, oceanic species wasn’t one I, in any way, anticipated adding to my UK list anytime soon (ever).

So, when news that the (same) Red-footed Booby had incredibly been discovered roosting on the Bishop Rock lighthouse on the 14th August, I was scarcely more enthused.

It was then also connected with on the Bishop Rock lighthouse subsequently on the 15th, 16th and 17th August during special boat trips out there (and it was ever ‘scoped from Peninnis Head on St. Mary’s on the latter date). As such, it was soon being well and truly twitched by all and sundry, as social media made all too apparent.

However, it not seen early in the afternoon on the 18th August or on the 19th August, but then it was seen on virtually every day between the 20th August and 15th September (although on the 27th August it was seen from a Scilly pelagic and not on the Bishop Rock lighthouse). To the discerning, by now, there was something a pattern emerging. Basically, it was not always present on the lighthouse earlier in the day (when, presumably it was foraging in nearby waters), but was more reliable later on, (when, presumably, it had successfully caught enough fish, and, as such, was resting on the lighthouse). Indeed, on at least a couple of occasions, as suggested, it was seen at sea from pelagics earlier in the day during this period.

Social media continued to appraise me of the twitch-ability (sorry, that’s a shocking ‘word’), whether or not I wanted to know. Indeed, conventional media did the same; on the 24th August my non-birding mate Chris Hirst asked me if I was going to twitch it on our WhatsApp group. He actually asked, “Are you heading to the Isles of Scilly to see the Red Booby (sic). Big fuss on breakfast tv!!” My best mate, Gary Hitchen corrected Chris on my behalf, “Red-footed Booby Chris” and (incorrectly) anticipated, “I imagine the magic carpet has already taken flight southwards!”

More realistically, I volunteered, “Nah. Would love too but...” but added, “Maybe it can do the decent thing and hang around until I'm there in October..... 😳” (Chris Pendlebury and I had long planned to visit the Scillies between the 13th and 23rd October, given that his parents had booked a place there and rooms were available).

Predictably, Gary later informed us that he had, “Been getting tremendous results this morning searching for booby”.

None of this altered my view that this particular booby was probably beyond my reach, as tantalising as it was to think about getting my hands on one for my list.

Incredibly, to increase my angst, as well as the Red-footed Booby, a Brown Booby was watched by the twitchers on the Sapphire on the 28th August as it also roosted on the Bishop Rock lighthouse!!!!!!!

However, subsequently, after being tantalised by another exotic booby (one which had potentially been ‘gettable’ from the garden of my flat), I duly added the latter species to my list on the 10th September. A booby in the hand is better than one in the bush, clearly (or something like that 😊). But two?

Knowing it was just not happening but even then, secretly harbouring hopes that it just might stick until Chris Pendlebury and I travelled to the Scillies in mid-October 2023 was a disconcerting state to be in. It was wildly ambitious, but..... .

Predictably, as our pre-planned visit to the Scillies approached, after the 15th September the Red-footed Booby was seen on a more intermittent basis, possibly as there were less trips out to the Bishop Rock. As such, it was seen on the 23rd September (but not the 29th September) and the 8th and 11th October (but not the 9th, 10th and 15th October).

So, potentially, we were going to be close, but not close enough, and this feeling was heightened on the 8th October, when news reached us that Chris’ dad Keith had his Sunday lunch at the St Mary’s Golf Clubhouse spoiled by news that the booby had returned, and there would be a boat from St Mary’s at 13:30. Commendably, like any sensible Lancastrian, advised of this news, Keith wolfed down his Sunday lunch and ran down to the quay for the boat…. And thus, he duly retained his lunch and obtained a fantastic addition to his list. Fair play.

The day before we departed for the Scillies on Friday the 13th October, the inner quorum of the Bean Goose Advisory Group convened for a pre-meeting in advance of our next formal meeting on the 26th October, and I listened as Rick Goater relayed his experiences catching up with the Red-footed Booby when in the Scillies earlier in the autumn…… . Ho-hum.

So it was that when we arrived in Scilly on the 14th October, I wasn’t wildly optimistic about my chances of catching up with the Red-footed Booby, despite (and because of) all and sundry having successfully done so. Trips to see it were infrequent, and, worse, when a trip out to the Bishop Rock was planned that afternoon, it was subsequently cancelled, as there was no sign of it from a pelagic earlier in the day.

Further, we experienced some ‘inclement’, though seasonal, weather for the Scillies, albeit we didn’t receive the full hit of Storm Babet that areas further north and east in England and Scotland did.

Nonetheless, I reasoned that a bird species which belonged in the tropical waters of the Atlantic Ocean might just have got the hint it was no longer in the tropics when the first equinoxal storms hit the waters of Scilly……. .

Scilly (as ever?) tantalised but frustrated. In the absence of mega birds, I was very interested in seeing the vagrant insects that were reported (in particular, Green Darners, American Painted Ladies, Vagrant Emperors and locust species) but they eluded me, despite, horrendously, twitching the Green Darner on Bryher on the 20th October that Chris had connected with the previous day, an experience made way worse by it being at the very same place I had dipped Blackburnian Warbler the previous year. Moving on….. .

This caused very dark thoughts about the whole Scilly experience, which, combined with the weather and lack of really good birds was not good.

However, right at the end of our stay, salvation was potentially offered when it was confirmed on Saturday the 21st October that there would be one last trip out to the Bishop Rock lighthouse to try to see the Red-footed Booby on Sunday the 22nd October. This was two weeks after the last positive sighting (the one which fast-forwarded Keith’s Sunday lunch). It was also, apparently 69 days (or nearly ten weeks) since the bird had first been recorded on the Bishop Rock (and 76 days since it had initially been seen nearby during a pelagic).

As such, it was a a big gamble. However, we were leaving the following day, so my attitude was ‘what the hell’.

Chris Pendlebury did his usual thing of leaving any decision until as late as possible, whereas his dad was optimistic on our behalf.

I wasn’t anything like as optimistic and convinced myself going out to the Bishop Rock would just be a great experience anyway. More to the point, I knew, inevitably, if I didn’t go, it would be seen. The morning of the day the trip out to the Bishop Rock lighthouse was planned, I bumped into Adam Hutt and his partner, Heather Bennett, on The Garrison. Adam indicated he would be going on the trip, and I took this as a positive omen.

Fortunately, (though as had been forecast – hence the trip) the weather that day was relatively benign and the sea state comparatively calm.

I wandered down to the quay sometime before the 15:30 departure time, and was somewhat surprised to see a good number of folk already queuing to get on the Sapphire (apparently there were 75 of us). Chris, who had been to Tresco with his parents, was at the head of the queue and invited me to join him. Soon afterwards we descended the steps and clambered abroad. We quickly bagged seats on the port side near the wheelhouse, reasonably sheltered and well-positioned in terms of the stability of the boat. Adam joined us, and sat opposite, facing outwards (we were facing inwards, which was perhaps not the best, with hindsight).

Anyway, we headed off towards Bishop Rock, taking an incredible course between St. Agnes and Annet and various of the Western Rocks. It was indeed, ‘comparatively calm’ but all the same it was exhilarating to be out in the Western Approaches taking a course so close to the incredibly complex rock islets of the Western Rocks. For example, memorably, we went through, what, I think, was the ‘Crebawethan Neck’ a narrow and shallow channel between Great Crebawethan and the various rocky outcrops to the south.

I found it very exciting; I was very much in my element, whilst simultaneously very definitely not being in my element!

Once we had passed the next islet, Little Crebawethan, only Bishop Rock itself remained, and the lighthouse itself loomed ever larger ahead of us. However, as we were going roughly west south-west, and it was the late afternoon, we were looking into the sun to some extent.

By now I was increasingly optimistic.

As we closed in on the lighthouse, we checked it out and Chris commented that there was a bird atop the lighthouse on the western side which ‘could be it’. Very soon afterwards there was an announcement over the Sapphire’s tannoy which, in a very low-key way, confirmed the target of our quest was indeed there!!!

I could definitely see what was presumably it too, and so I was (quietly) even more exhilarated. Wow!! After all this time I had scored big-time!!!

Suffice to say, we duly closed on the lighthouse and circled it, allowing everyone to have views of the target of our quest and take photographs, etc.. Viewing wasn’t necessarily easy from a packed, small boat which was gently rocking with the swell, looking up at the bird perched on the edge of the tower-top helicopter platform safety netting high above us, often in the bright light of the sun.

Nonetheless, views were had, and it was on my list. Handshakes between myself and Adam and Chris seemed appropriate.

Meanwhile, as we bobbed about beneath the lighthouse, it was apparent that there was a large-scale feeding frenzy of seabirds to the immediate west, so after a couple of circumnavigations we went off to take this in as well - a real bonus.

It was truly spectacular, and involved (as estimated by Joe Pender) c.300 Cory’s Shearwater, c.35 Great Shearwater, 11 Sooty Shearwaters, 4 Manx Shearwaters, 1 Great Skua, c.50 Short-beaked Common Dolphin and c.50 Atlantic Bluefin Tuna. I didn’t necessarily see these numbers or the smaller shearwaters that were involved (Adam and Chris, for example, also had a Balearic Shearwater) but I certainly saw very well the incredible concentration of big shearwaters and dolphins, and also, the tuna.

After taking in this spectacle, we returned to the Bishop Rock for seconds of the Red-footed Booby, again circumnavigating the lighthouse and craning our necks to see the bird.

As it was roosting, it wasn’t necessarily the most active of birds, despite a couple of attempts to stir it into action by sounding the Sapphire’s horn. Nonetheless, it occasionally shuffled about, revealed its head and neck, and flapped its wings.

It was a typical booby in terms of size and shape (though is apparently smaller – size was difficult to judge given where it was). It’s plumage was white or off-white with the exception of the wings and tail which were dark brown in terms of the tail and flight feathers and a dirty grey-brown in terms of the coverts, etc.. There was a hint of yellowish colour to the head and there was some darker feathering around the margins of the bill and on the throat. The eye was dark brown. The bill was pinkish white in colour and, predictably, the feet were orangey-red.

Fantastic!!!

Chris and I disembarked the Sapphire and went straight to the Atlantic Hotel to celebrate with a Sunday roast with his parents. We were keen to emphasise Keith that this was the preferred sequence in which to organise things! 😂 I enjoyed this post-twitch meal very much, all the more so for seeing David Bradshaw and his wife whilst there.

Ours is such a perplexing, ever-changing hobby. In the distant past I had seen Brown Boobies off Eilat, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I would feast my eyes on four boobies during 2023; lots of Peruvian ones and a Masked one on the Pacific coast of Chile, and, incredibly, for my British list, two in British waters, a Brown one in a completely unnatural setting on the Tees-side coast of the North Sea, and then this one in (the lighthouse excepted) the completely natural setting of the Western Approaches of the Atlantic off the Scillies. Wow!!! Wow!!!!

Red-footed Booby, Bishop Rock Lighthouse, west of the Scillies, Scilly, October 2023 (photograph credited to Chris Pendlebury).

Bobolink – Great Pool and Fraggle Rock Café, Bryher, Isles of Scilly, 15^th October 1996

Again, as had happened before, when this bird turned up on St. Marys on the 7th October 1996, I couldn’t help but start to anticipate this addition. Prematurely – but inevitably. Even as it moved from island to island I remained quietly optimistic. However, it unfortunately disappeared, or at least it did so until about 15:00 on Monday the 14th October, when news of it came over on the C.B., as we (Gilly - my ex- and I - just for clarity.....) were looking for the Red-eyed Vireo at Lower Moors on St. Marys. The news was that it was on Bryher. I was all for going for it, but it was suggested by the owner of the C.B. that there wouldn’t be any more boats. As the resultant pager message indicated that the bird had also been seen on the previous day as well, I became more optimistic again.

However, this mood plummeted when I later found out from Janine Cleary that Paul Pugh had gone to Bryher, once they had returned from St. Agnes, and plunged even further when I found out from Paul that the thing had been kicked a few times once it had gone to roost. I could have got there and now it might have gone.

Despite a heavy night Gilly and I managed to make it to Bryher on the first boat the following morning. However, circumstances were less than promising as it was windy and showery. As a result, it was a choppy crossing, so we were both very wet on arrival. We yomped across the island to the Great Pool area were the consensus was that the bird had last been seen in a patch of bramble and bracken on the west side of the pool. This was promptly surrounded and eventually the bird was sighted. However, it was not impressed by the audience, and flew over part of the assembly to the dunes behind Great Popplestones Bay, initially in the company of a Greenfinch, and not the following six Greenfinches, as was suggested by others birders.

Here, in the frenzy, it was flushed on three more occasions, giving further brief flight views. These were even less satisfactory due to my waterlogged bins, but at least I had heard it call, unlike most others there. Eventually, it flew to a hillside to the west of the Chapel. Gilly and I decided to walk towards it in an around about way, and made our way past the fields, leaving behind most of the other birders, many of whom failed to even follow it. As we made our way there, we saw someone in the distance moving across the hillside towards where the bird had disappeared.

Was he a birder? I was convinced he was going to flush it and shortly afterwards something flew over us towards the Fraggle Rock Cafe area – calling. It was it!

Working entirely on intuition, we followed it over the horizon where I found a rank grass field. Ideal!

After some ‘debate’ we settled down to watch over the field. I was convinced that the bird was in there.

Some ten or so minutes later I picked it out amongst the sparrows at the other end of the field, and got it in the ‘scope. Unfortunately, Gilly lost then it. Small groups of other birders were now nearby and although I had suggested to Gilly that we wouldn’t bring them over until we had good views, I did beckon two over.

We told them that we had it in the field, and then Gilly redeemed herself and re-located it on a fence in the field. We got one of the other two birders on it but after an all too brief period it flew off again over the Fraggle Rock Cafe.

Wow! We’d had a rarity all to ourselves.

In flight it looked fairly long-winged and bulky, with apparently lemon yellow under-tail coverts and throat. The call was a short, soft “pink”.

During the brief views, the highly striped upperparts, the lightly streaked underparts and the broadly striped head were seen.

The field where, fantastically, we were able to relocate the Bobolink.

Bobolink, Bryher, Scilly, October 1996 (photographer unknown).

October.....

 I will be back. In the middle of what is an interesting autumn, hopefully generating more tales to tell.