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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trained to twitch!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Alpine Swift – The Verne, Portland, Dorset, 1^st April 1988

My attempt at capturing the Alpine Swift hawking the cliff tops at The Verne, Portland, Dorset, in April 1988, based on a drawing made soon afterwards.

Thank fuck for that!! After a dawn vigil at Peveril Point, and another attempt at midday there and at Durlston Head the previous day (for what proved to be two and one – different – birds), Paul Pugh and I finally caught up with this gem!! At this time Paul would regularly travel all the way from Wigan to Wareham by train to have a few days birding with me. This was one such occasion.

At first it was very elusive and then only viewable in the distance. However, even then it was evidently large with flashes of white. Eventually though, after terrorising and tearing around much of north-east Portland it was intensively watched as it hawked backwards and forwards along the cliff-top in front of us and over our heads (at a location we had already visited......). This was at a location at The Verne on Portland, overlooked by the imposing Victorian prison.

As we stood watching the bird with our backs to the prison the delightful inmates in various of the cells on the upper floors hoyed anything they could lay their hands on down at us...... . And all the time they did this Martin Cade (then in his pre-Portland Bill Bird Observatory warden days) stood about 10 or 15 m in front of us, watching us (as opposed to watching the swift) and just looking ultra-cool in his red Kicker boots and brightly coloured jumper. Well, he’d probably seen a good few Alpine Swifts at Portland previously and we were probably even more entertaining........ . Or just maybe (and if so I was oblivious at the time) he was watching us just in case a flying mug came too close to one of us whilst we were concentrating on the bird..... .

The bird.......? Well, it was very fast in flight and like a massive Swift / Sand Martin hybrid; Swift shape, Sand Martin plumage.

Many years later, in 2017, I saw one on a similar date (actually a few days earlier) at Baron’s Haugh Nature Reserve in North Lanarkshire. And in-between times I had seen breeding Alpine Swifts in Cappadocia, Turkey (including the bizarre apparent ‘farming’ of young birds by using purpose built lockable nest-boxes) but that’s another story..... . 

Oh, and later that same day Paul and I dashed off to deepest West Sussex to see a Little Bittern, but that is quite literally a different story, which was posted on this cure for insomnia last but one.

Alpine Swift, The Verne, Portland, Dorset, April 1988 (photograph credited to unknown).

 Snowy Owl – flanks of Shore Hill, Unst, Shetland, 28^th May 1990

Oh, that they were all so easy! Within five minutes of driving off the Gutcher to Belmont ferry between Yell and Unst, we were scrutinising a tea-cosy on the hillside, which I had seen as we drove north – in a way reminiscent of the Capercaillie – through my lucky window in the passenger door of Dave McAleavy’s car. On grilling, the tea cosy turned into a Snowy Owl. Wonderful! Huge size (it was a female)!

Not a lot more to add really, Dave’s contemporary photographs do convey at least something of what we saw. 

I will though add, that when, within the next couple of days, Dave and I were outside the Sumburgh Hotel, I had the rather perverse pleasure of advising Bobby Tulloch (who was there with a bird tour group) of just where he and his group could see one of ‘his’ Snowy Owls! (By way of context, as we are talking of events in the late 1960s(!), Bobby Tulloch was very much the man associated with the Snowy Owls which successfully bred on Fetlar, of which this bird was a last remnant. As I was to learn many years later, besides being Mr Snowy Owl, Bobby was also colloquially known as 'Tubby Bollock' 😅).

In typical fashion, within eight months of ‘twitching’ the Shetland Snowy Owl during my pilgrimage to the far north, one turned up in England, touring the east coast from early 1991 onwards.

This gave all and sundry the chance to get it on their lists, causing me to curse everyone else catching up with this tick so soon after I had trailed all the way to Unst.

Nonetheless, I saw it twice, having to be content with its value on various non-existent year / country / county lists.

On the first occasion, it was near Friskney / Wainfleet All Saints in Lincolnshire where Gary and I ‘twitched’ it en route to Lincoln City versus Burnley on the 19th  January 1991. It was resting in a ploughed field where it was visible after a yomp along the flood embankment protecting arable farmland to the north-west of The Wash from being reclaimed by the sea. As a result of the colour of the local soil, the bird was discoloured and was vaguely pink.... . Having seen it, Gary and I realised that we were potentially going to be late for our intended visit to Sincil Bank, and so we started jogging back to the car along the flood embankment. We were asked by birders if we were running for something else. Naturally we replied, “Yes. Lincoln City v. Burnley,” which caused some confusion...... .

On the second occasion, it was at Burnham Market in Norfolk to where Pete, Mike and I travelled to see it on the 24th March 1991. Much more recently, there has been other opportunities to see Snowy Owls in Shetland when I have been there in autumn, but I haven't taken the opportunity. 

Dave McAleavy's contemporary photographs (I'll admit I don't remember flushing it!).

Snowy Owl, Unst, Shetland 1990 (photograph credited to Tim Loseby)

 Little Bittern – Oreham Common, Henfield, West Sussex, 1^st April 1988

Not sure I have, but with this sketch I was keen to try to capture the 'Grumpy Humpty Dumpty' appearance of the Oreham Common Little Bittern. It looked less than impressed with life.

This was an exceedingly silly example of twitching, fittingly occurring on April Fool's Day. Having seen the Alpine Swift at The Verne, Portland (which had involved driving from Swanage to Portland) Paul Pugh and I then dashed for two hours across Southern England from Portland to Oreham Common, near Henfield (remember visiting Sally Holmes there?). I had a good hire car at this juncture which helped but...... .

Once there, we were parked near a pond adjacent to a minor road where there were some 30 birders grilling ‘it’ at ranges of some 30m. Talk about a budgie in a cage!!!!

Apparently the bird had been rescued exhausted on the beach in Hove, and after being rehabilitated it had been released at the pond, which was part of the nature reserve near the headquarters of the Sussex Wildlife Trust.

Consequently, I was very worried until it moved, but when it did it became a star bird as it began hunting. It stalked about amongst the pond-side vegetation very deliberately, and eventually caught a Smooth Newt, which was seemingly fooled by its body-swerve. After turning it around, it swallowed it and promptly stalked off into the cover.

It was an avian Humpty-Dumpty; it was always egg-shaped due to its hunched shoulders and wings obscuring the tail. The plumage involved a brilliant striking contrast between the black crown, nape, back and wing tips and the rest of the plumage which was a pale peach-brown. The eye was yellow and there was a yellow eye-ring. It had a typical heron type bill which had a yellow base and pink lower and upper mandibles which were black tipped. The legs were yellow-green and chunky.

The Oreham Common pond, plus the Little Bittern. If you have a magnifying glass to hand.

The Oreham Common Little Bittern twitch. Some familiar faces. Flusher Pugh down at the very front.

Little Bittern, Oreham Common, Henfield, West Sussex, April 1988 (photograph credited to unknown).

Hermit Thrush –Tresco, Scillies, Cornwall, 15^th October 1993

An attempt to capture the Hermit Thrush skulking away in an unobtrusive manner on the edge of a sunlight glade amongst the rhododendron cover; almost hermit-like, strangely...... .

After a reasonably quiet St. Mary’s Friday the 15th October, with few birds and only the Black-throated Thrush flurry to celebrate / excite, the pager alerted me to the re-discovered Hermit Thrush, last seen on the 11th and as such presumed ‘missing’ in action...... another very typical scenario in the Scillies.

I quickly walked back down to Hugh Town, and bumped into the recently arrived Mike Thompson, who was more interested in the Eye-browed version.

I hurried on, and having arrived on the quay, I made it onto the third boat. Soon I was on my way across to Tresco, and in doing so, almost as soon as we’d got beyond The Roads, I saw the already assembled gallery near the Smith Monument on Abbey Hill. This looked horrendous. To compound the problem, the boat I was on carried on to New Grimsby, past the earlier ones, which had conveniently (for those on them) just beached near the scene. Less conveniently, I had to walk there from New Grimsby, by which time the gallery was truly huge.

It would later emerge that the Hermit Thrush had briefly been seen in or near the mature pines beyond one of the many wide paths / rides through the bracken and rhododendron scrub up towards the monument. Now, if it re-appeared and you happened to be in the ride in a position within 50 m or so of a point perpendicular to the area within which the bird was, you might just have a chance of seeing the bird, eventually.

However, the gallery had sprawled, not only all the way along what was a very long path / ride, but also beyond along adjacent paths / rides, including the one alongside the bay. Basically, a very small proportion of the birders there might just get lucky as they had managed to be in something like the area where the bird had last been seen, whereas the vast majority of them had no chance, and as such they were wasting their own time.

Once I got to the sprawling galleries, I climbed onto a wall but this was no better. It did though, confirm that there was a need for decisive and incisive action if I was going to have any chance of seeing it. I speculated about perhaps getting to the other end of the very long path / ride by walking all the way around and approaching it via other paths / rides.

So I went for it. I walked all the way south along the path / ride alongside the bay, and once well beyond any birders I selected a ride or rides which radiated from the monument to the path / ride alongside the coastline.

I slowly walked up the narrow ride, enclosed by tall rhododendron. Towards the top, the ride broadened out, or diverged. No matter, the effect was to create a sunlight glade, contrasting with the enclosed, shaded tunnel I was emerging from. I knew that this would be more likely to have bird activity in it for this reason. Indeed, there was a ticking Robin............ which chased around the rhododendron undergrowth on the far side of the clearing. Almost instantly as I mused that a Robin wouldn’t be too keen on a Hermit Thrush, sure enough, as I cautiously moved closer something flitted up to perch in the open...... .

The scene of the 'crime'; the rides radiating from the monument can be seen. The long diagonal ride alongside the pines in the north was were the bird was initially seen, I walked up a ride way to the south.

The Hermit Thrush!!!! Un-fucking believable!!!!!! Now, you make your own luck and all that, but come on! I was elated at my ‘twitch scene management’ and field skill intuition.

I had a stunning rarity (just the fourth ever, at the time) right there in front of me, all to myself!!!! Wow, wow, wow!!!!!

It was a gem of a bird – basically an advanced juvenile Robin / Nightingale type with some steroids involved. It was a magical moment – I enjoyed really close views all to myself. As it finally disappeared into the undergrowth other birders appeared. At least some of them had had the same idea as me, and indeed it was seen in the same general area by some of the others in the same way.

The next day I returned with Paul Pugh and Neil Tasker and I was rewarded with further excellent views near the original location.

Not sure this will work, but here’s some video of the bird filmed by the inimitable Alan Shaw:

Hermit Thrush 1993 (youtube.com) .

Hermit Thrush, Tresco, Scillies, October 1993 (photographs attributed to Steve Young).

 

Alpine Accentor – Saltfleetby, Lincolnshire, 17^th November 1994

As this potential ‘new’ bird had been around for some days I was getting twitchy about it. It had turned up on Monday the 14th November 1994. This situation was made worse by the fact that I was in Scotland, and then, for at least part of the forthcoming weekend, I was occupied – there was a Scotland to Northern Ireland Pipeline Project team-building event on Saturday the 19th November. When was I going to get the chance to see it?

Then a solution occurred to me. I could take the Thursday off in lieu of the Saturday. So it was that I set off from Creetown to Burnley after work on the Wednesday evening. The following morning, I awaited news without any joy, so I finally departed at around 08:30. I was made to regret this decision further after a slow rate of progress through both Hebden and Sowerby Bridges. And then I had a major crisis on the M62 when the news came through of a Yellow-rumped Warbler in Bristol. I wavered and I deliberated but I then continued on, and 2.5 hours later I was there. The correct decision.

It was a smart place too, with a good set-up, car-park, track, fences, etc., and pristine sand-dunes and salt-marshes – one against the other, with a track along the edge of the dunes. 300 m along this track were several birders, and an Alpine Accentor.

As easy as that! It was amazing how close it was – it was really close!! As it was feeding in the open most of the time, only occasionally disappearing into the sea buckthorn, it gave superb views. At one stage it was within 3 m!!!

It was stunning to see so close in good light – it had really bright plumage, which was visible in amazing detail.

It was a large accentor. It had striking rufous flanks, which became streaks towards the under-tail coverts which were, as such, streaked. It had rufous and dark brown remiges as well. The greater coverts were black with white tips. It had light grey-brown upper-parts with darker streaks and a light grey-brown head, neck and upper breast and a whitish throat with black flecks. It had a yellow and black bill and pinky-orange legs.

Wow! After the Radde’s Accentor in Turkey I was becoming an accentor fan.

Alpine Accentor, Saltfleetby, Lincolnshire, November 1993 (photograph credited to unknown).