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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 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).