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).

 Least Sandpiper – Blacktoft Sands RSPB Reserve, East Yorkshire, 20^th October 1999

My failed attempt to capture the intricacies of the Least Sandpiper's complex plumage. A definite drawer's block outbreak involved.

The revitalised birding career of yours truly continued following the significant successes of the early autumn, in the form of the Royal Tern and Short-billed Dowitcher.

This was just as well, given what was occurring in the Scillies that autumn where the likes of Ken Shaw (who when Gillian, Ellen and I went to see the Lesser Scaup at Vane Farm asked us whether we were going to the Scillies, and suggested that he could sort us out with accommodation on St. Agnes!) were making the most of goodies including Siberian Thrush, White’s Thrush, Short-toed Eagle, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Blue Rock Thrush, etc., etc..

So perhaps by way on consolation, on the afternoon of Monday the 18th October, Gillian and Ellen and I decided to take in the Red-flanked Bluetail at St Abb’s Head on the spur of the moment and all(?) of us were rewarded with excellent views. Memorably, I put down my Barbour jacket on one side of a sunlight glade and sat Ellen on it, and then retreated to the other side of the glade to be rewarded by really good views of the bluetail feeding in front of Ellen; meanwhile fuckwits chased about elsewhere in the wood alongside Mire Loch looking for said bird……. .

This was my third one, which balanced somewhat incongruously with the news breaking that afternoon of a Least Sandpiper at Blacktoft Sands RSPB. Reserve, a species which I should have perhaps caught up with by now. Some of the birders at St. Abbs Head had come from Blacktoft Sands having seen the bird, so I was soon plotting my strategy for a trip south.

When we left St. Abbs Head we went into Dunbar for fish and chips, and if Ellen hadn’t seen the Red-flanked Bluetail she certainly saw the Herring Gulls that clambered all over the car as we consumed our fish suppers down at the harbour. But my mind was elsewhere…… .

By ‘happy’ coincidence I was planning to be in Burnley the following day, to be with Mum on the day she received the results of her medical tests, and to pick up Ellen’s birthday present from her Grandma.

I worked on the Tuesday morning, and then, having liaised with Gillian, I packed and then ‘phoned Mum to advise her of my plans. Ellen and I travelled from Kirkliston to Burnley in between 17:45 and 21:15 and, as always, she was as good as a very good thing. I was glad to be in Burnley with my Mum that night as she had been told that day of the positive confirmation that she had myloma, and also the implications of this news.

Incidentally, I suspect this was the first time I had been trusted to have Ellen overnight / away from home on my own. As she was such a good child, this went very well, except for one significant scare. I had purchased a bag of wine gums for the journey, and spent some of the drive handing back to Ellen wine gums I had bitten in half (a full one being too big for her). Given it was late for her when we got to my Mum’s she had fallen asleep during the latter stages of the journey. When I awoke her on arriving at Mum’s I was horrified to see a bright red substance congealed on the side of her neck; not a good look. However, this proved to be a melted red wine gum which she had evidently missed her mouth with, which had then melted when she slumped asleep…… .

The following morning, that of the 20th October, I got up at 06:00 and departed by 06:30, so that I was at Blacktoft Sands RSPB Reserve by c.08:10. Having assembled my gear I made my way to the visitor’s reception to be greeted by Andrew Grieve, miserable sod, who seemed almost pleased (if this was something he was capable of) to tell us that ‘it’ hadn’t been seen as yet that morning. Greatly cheered by this news, I made my way to the hide that he had suggested most people were in. Predictably, it was rather full, and the bird was not there. There was a nervous wait in a reasonably full hide, standing room only, and there were only a few waders on show to offer any distraction. However, before the wait became too unbearable, it came in with a Little Stint and several Dunlin. Thank goodness for that, or something similar, was the expression that came to mind!

It showed well from the hide for the next hour or so whilst I stayed there, although it, and its cohorts, was quite flighty and so frequently moved around. For much of the time it was watched whilst feeding on the muddy flats often immediately adjacent to the reed-beds. Towards the end of my stay (I was conscious that I should be back at Mum’s quite soon to make sure Ellen was okay) it moved to the edge of the mudflats in front of the hide, and as such showed as well as it had at any time earlier, although it was still at a range of some 60 m or so.

All the same the views were reasonable, and so I was able to take in most, if not all, of the main i.d. features. It was tiny, as you would expect of what is apparently the world’s smallest wader. I wondered just how big Most Sandpiper must be…… . It was seen to be smaller than the accompanying Little Stint, and unbelievably, at times appeared to be literally half the size of the accompanying Dunlin.

It’s shape / stature was typical of small waders, but it was ‘podgy’ and front heavy with shortish legs. It was ‘neckless’ and had an angular head. It was not all non-stop action in the same way as Sanderling for instance; its actions were jerky.

The leg colour was seen to be pale (i.e., not dark) but it was not determined whether they were yellow-green or green, for instance. The bill was like that of a stint, and was dark and slightly decurved.

Its plumage was very rusty brown; this alone allowing the bird to be picked out from amongst the crowd, but views did not really allow any great detail to be recorded, for example, the face pattern and the white fringing on the back were not clearly seen.

I left, and returned to Burnley and later Kirkliston with Ellen, after a very successful overnight visit!

This account is the first for which no photograph is available. Iain Leach was able to get images which are to be found in Birding World 12 (11) page 432, and Plate 286 in British Birds 92. As such, I have included my original notebook entry here, including my contemporary sketch and its vaguely humorous caption.

 Western Sandpiper – Musselburgh Lagoons, Musselburgh, East Lothian, 20^th August 1997

For once my original notebook sketch is half decent, so my drawing has merely updated it. Heat haze was involved (or at least that's my story).

On returning from our trip (sorry, honeymoon) to California, on Monday the 11th August 1997, I was re-united with my pager when Graham (Gillian’s brother) collected us from Manchester Airport. Later that day (I assume) the pager informed me that there was a Semi-palmated Sandpiper at Musselburgh. Interesting I thought, but no more. Despite our jet-lag Gilly and I made our way back to Queensferry later that day, but it wasn’t until the following evening that we attempted to see it. Or at least we planned to, after collecting Gilly’s car from her workplace at nearby Craigmillar. Unfortunately, her car wouldn’t start, and so by the time it did it was too late to go to Musselburgh. Gilly had offered me the opportunity to go on my own whilst she sorted out her car, but (as I was to discover) as the bird was tidal it was not certain that I would have seen it on that occasion, and anyway it was ‘just’ a Semi-p.

By then I had received a calling to return to work in Audley, Staffordshire. This I did on Wednesday the 13th August. Having already travelled to Scotland on the Monday, I was disinclined to travel back on the Friday, and so instead I stayed in Burnley. During the course of the weekend the message on the pager gradually changed, initially unnoticed by me.

The Semi-palmated Sandpiper was undergoing an identity crisis, and so the messages relating to it began to read Semi-palmated / Western Sandpiper. It now it became apparent why Jim Steele had indicated that Ian Andrews had been happy with the identification, as there had obviously been an element of doubt for some while.

As I was unaware at the time, it would seem that a photograph of the bird at Musselburgh was shown to Killian Mullarney at the Bird Fair, without putting it in context. He apparently immediately stated that the bird was a Western Sandpiper!!!! As a result, the bird obviously had the potential (at least), to be a very, very good tick, rather than just a very good Lothian / Scotland one. The pressure was on.

On Monday the 18th August I returned to work in Staffordshire, but as the bird proved to be still around, I changed my plans progressively, carrying out various site visits that day rather than the following one, as I had planned originally. On my return to Audley, I was retained for longer than I had intended, and eventually set off back to Scotland at 17:00, so arriving back in Edinburgh at 21:00, too late to do much about the bird.

By ‘coincidence’ the following day, the 19th August, I had the luck to go to Haddington to see my very good pipeline project colleague Nick Smith, calling at Fisherrow that morning and then to Musselburgh itself that afternoon. Here there were other birders, including such glitterati as Lee Evans and Dick Filby. Lee demanded to know whether I had seen the bird, and was perplexed to find that I hadn’t despite, living in Edinburgh.

I explained that currently I was working in Staffordshire and that I had stayed down south over the weekend whilst the identity crisis occurred. I compounded the disbelief Lee experienced by telling him that I had just come back from California, where we had seen hundreds of Western Sandpipers, including some within a couple of metres in Monterey Aquarium. He wanted to know how I had identified these birds and what plumage they were in, and so he was less than satisfied when I told him that we had not really got to grips with them beyond falling into the American trap of saying they were ‘peeps’, and that they just ‘were’ Westerns.

Anyway, despite lots of good chat and some serious searching by good national and local birders, over the course of several hours, nothing was seen of the bird that day. There was some dark murmuring about Steve Gantlett and Richard Millington having been kicking the bird all over the Fisherrow beach on the previous evening obviously being the reason why it hadn’t turned up that night.

The following day Gilly was on a course until 15:00 and as the high-tide wasn’t until about 16:30, I realised that there wouldn’t be any news until at least this time, so despite Gilly’s alternative suggestions, I decided we should wait until there was some news.

This we did despite Gilly ‘phoning from work to ask whether I would be meeting her in Edinburgh, prior to going to Musselburgh. I declined and so Gilly returned home, partly as we had received our long-awaited honeymoon holiday photographs in that morning’s post. So it was that we were looking through the photographs when the pager informed us that the ‘Western’ Sandpiper was at Musselburgh again, apparently at mouth of the Esk as the tide closed in. Looking at the wedding photographs was promptly suspended and 40 minutes later we were at Musselburgh.

The tide was now well in so we quickly made our way up onto the lagoon. I was more than pleased to see several birders next to a car on the embankment overlooking the assembled wader roost. I assumed that they had it staked out, and that a tick was imminent!

We quickly joined them and I was even more pleased to see a couple of familiar faces as we settled down alongside them. However, they indicated that they had a ‘strange’ tern, which very soon became a probable hybrid Sandwich x Lesser Crested Tern. This was all very well and good, but where was the sandpiper sp.? I made a tentative inquiry as to its whereabouts, only to be told that they hadn’t seen it since they had been watching it about an hour earlier at the Esk mouth, but they cheerily suggested that they would find it for me!

I was gratified by this but doubted their optimism, particularly as others and I had really worked for it during much of the roost the previous afternoon. However, we scanned the roost with no success, but literally within minutes of our arrival a group of twelve or so small waders suddenly flew in from behind us. One of our group indicated that ‘it’ was with them, but all I could see was Ringed Plover. Then, once they had pitched in it was again suggested that the ‘peep’ was amongst them, but it was a 1st winter Sanderling, or at least that was all I could see. Our informant then again said it was there. Finally, though, I did manage to pick it out from amongst the Ringed Plover. Despite only having her binoculars Gilly was quickly onto it as well.

We watched it from our initial vantage point for a while, and then I returned to the car to get my notebook, camera, books etc.. As I walked back I had 14 Whimbrel overhead, but surprisingly the others missed them. This prompted two of them to go to the wader scrape in search of them. As a result they found that the ‘peep’ was less obscured from further along. We therefore moved along as well, and were soon joined by two of the birders I had met on the previous day.

The bird remained on view throughout the next two hours during which time good views were obtained at what was a reasonable range in good light, although frequently it was at least partially obscured. My views of it were helped by loans of various ‘scopes through which I got better still views, so that I was able to study the bird well, and to sketch it well as part of the process.

The bird was watched in what was a relaxed atmosphere, similar to the Collared Flycatcher perhaps. Again there was lots of good chat, but this didn’t distract from the study of this contentious bird, in fact it added to it.

It was an obvious ‘peep’ for which the miniature Dunlin analogy really worked, particularly if it was applied to an adult of one of the long-billed races in winter plumage. It was watched roosting amongst Ringed Plover and Dunlin in runnel depressions in the fly-ash near the lagoon, often partially obscured as a result; as it was sleeping or often standing on one leg whilst roosting, it was difficult to gain any really useful impression of jizz.

However, the field sketch made during the initial part of the period during which it was watched is a reasonable likeness of the bird. The bill appeared long and tapered to a fine point, and also seemed slightly decurved, adding to the Dunlin (alpina) analogy. The crown was slightly darker than the rest of the upperparts and was finely streaked with dark lines. There was a distinct whitish supercilium that joined the base of the bill in front of the eye and then broadened towards the eye, and beyond, where it terminated in a square-end whilst still broad. Above the eye itself the supercilium was partially broken by dark streaking, which was similar to the crown. There was an eye-stripe of similar dark streaking running from the base of the bill to the ear-coverts. The rest of the head was light brownish grey. The upperparts were light brownish grey with little marking, although the coverts had darker centres. The underparts were white, although there was an epaulette of darker fine streaking on the breast sides. Due to the wind direction and the direction from which the bird watched the front of the breast was not seen so any fine streaking was not observed. The legs appeared to be black, and although they were reasonably long, they did not give the bird the tottering appearance of the birds seen in Monterey Aquarium.

After this close-ish examination had ended the bird departed just as suddenly as it has arrived, again in the company of Ringed Plover and Dunlin. We followed to the other side of the Esk but never caught up with it again. Following my attempts at grilling this enigma, and after referring to all my references I certainly leaned towards it being a long-billed Semi-palmated Sandpiper, on the basis of the following criteria:

Further, the bird was reminiscent of the adult winter Semi-palmated Sandpiper I saw at Sidlesham Ferry, Sussex in November 1988. I resigned myself to awaiting the judgement of my superiors...... .

The following month Birding World obviously contained an account of the occurrence, complete with the photographs by Gary Bellingham that had allowed Killian Mullarney to suggest the real identity of this bird in the first place.

Although not reaching the same final conclusion following my studies of the bird, I was still very pleased with what I had picked up on in my description. Therefore, I have not altered history by changing my original account, as is detailed here. Given the views I had of a roosting bird I stand by my description. Obviously the jizz and bill were real clinchers in terms of my views, whilst the light apparently affected the colour tone of the upperparts (a mute point at the best of times) and I was too far away (or the bird hadn’t been cooperative enough) to get views of the upper breast streaking.

And anyway, hadn’t the author of the article in Birding World told Jim Steele that it was definitely a Semi-palmated Sandpiper at the beginning of the saga? He didn’t mention this in his article, unlike some.

I had really enjoyed the whole saga. It was all very instructive and productive, especially as it all took place in the environs of Edinburgh.

 With the benefit of photographs (or superb views) it obviously was a Western, and not a Semi-p, for which I was very grateful.

Western Sandpiper, Musselburgh lagoons, Musselburgh, East Lothian, July 1997 (photograph credited to Iain Leach).

 Collared Flycatcher – Ethie Mains, near Arbroath, Angus, 31^st May 1997

Having not enjoyed May 1997 (quite as much as I might have done if I had been able to twitch the Calandra Lark and / or the Common Yellowthroat), this came as a blessed relief.

Two weekends prior to this I was in South Queensferry as my father and his long-term partner Barbara were visiting Gillian and I. The weather was dire and restricted our sightseeing activities, and also, otherwise, if they hadn’t been visiting, as I was working in Staffordshire, I could have stayed in Lancashire and so twitched the Isle of Man for the Calandra Lark, or even travelled to Scotland, Shetland and Unst for the Common Yellowthroat. And to make things worse, when Dad and Barbara had departed, and the weather cleared, Gilly and I had dipped Marsh Sandpiper and Red-rumped Swallow in East Lothian.

Then the weekend prior to this I had time on my hands, but during a Spring Bank Holiday weekend when I had deliberately placed myself in England, there was nothing to go for! Aargh!

So, I returned to South Queensferry on the night of the 29th May with some misgivings, not helped by nominally dipping Pied-billed Grebe on the journey north. Sods’ Law dictated that there would be something really good in England during the course of the following few days.

However, on the Saturday afternoon it became apparent that Sods’ Law was not operative that weekend, as a few hours after Gilly had left me to go down to her parents in Lancashire, and just as I was getting down to some work, the mega-alert went off for the fifth, (and last!), time in May to announce the presence of a Collared Flycatcher some 10 km north-east of Arbroath in Angus at Ethie Mains.

It was 13:53. Within five minutes I was on my way. The trip was good, apart from my visit to the service station at the start of the trip and problems with navigating to Ethie Mains using a road atlas at the end.

Once there it was not apparent where I should park, or even whether I should park, as there was no real sign of a twitch.

I plumped to park anyway, and fortunately I was able to ask the farmers’ wife, “Where is the rare bird?” She pointed me in the right direction, and I was then able to join a very small group some 200 m down a track. I quickly recognised Stuart Green, who it turned out was the finder of the bird, and then also located the bird as it flitted amongst the foliage of, primarily, one large elm. It was about 15:30, and as one of the very first arrivals, for the next two hours I enjoyed the bird and the company.

Having seen it so readily, I was able to relax and make the most of what then became a very sedate, gentile and polite twitch with a very few Scottish and a very few Anglo-Scottish birders, such as Calum Scott, et al..

The bird showed at ranges of about 30 m, intermittently, and even when it was showing it was not always easy to see amongst the confusing background of tree trunks, branches and leaves. When it did show and I got it in the ‘scope it was stunning, and I was easily able to pick up most of the diagnostic features, the striking white collar, largish white forehead patch, the large white patches at the base of the primaries, pale-ish white-grey rump and lack of white in the tail. I also noted the brownish primaries, primary coverts, etc., indicative of a first summer bird, as may have been the smudgy grey markings on the otherwise white underparts. Otherwise, it was a typical Pied-type flycatcher in every respect. Also heard snatches of song, or perhaps sub-song, and saw interaction with an arboreal Pied Wagtail!!

A stunning bird, all in all.

Collared Flycatcher, Ethie Mains, near Arbroath, Angus, May 1997 (photograph credited to Alan Tate).

Bufflehead –Colwick Country Park, Colwick, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, 18^th March 1994

March 1994 Bufflehead, so long ago it's in black and white, and the March 2024 version, which isn't.

Twice within a week I was rewarded with a good (if, at the time what was considered to be potentially dubious!) tick in a country park. Again, though, as with the Black-faced Bunting, for me at least, my scruples allowed, and it - Bufflehead - was on my list.

News was first relayed on the pager on Thursday the 17th March 1994. I had just returned from a Premier-Transco team-building event in Hinckley, having flown from Edinburgh to Birmingham on Tuesday the 15th March and from Birmingham to Edinburgh on the 17th. As alcohol had been involved I was in no fit state to do anything but recuperate that day. However, so it was that, after visiting Nick Smith in Haddington for work-related reasons, I continued south on the A1 and beyond on Friday the 18th March.

The journey south was largely uneventful, if long, particularly as once in Nottingham, despite my intuition which took me around the ring-road to the football and cricket grounds and the national water-sports centre, I was thwarted by the lack of directions. Anyway, after almost an hour of travelling around trying to find the scene I finally made it there. Much frustration....!

By the time I finally reached the country park and the car-park where birders where parked, it was late in the afternoon, and worse, it had started to drizzle. Some 25 birders were assembled nearby, beyond the landscape planting around the car-park, and they were watching the bird on the lake. It was feeding near an island with Goldeneye and was at about 200 m range.

It was a really smart little duck; constantly diving and, as such, with the continually worsening rain the views weren’t the best. It was a small diving duck, owing a lot to Goldeneye with which it associated. It was a wonderfully attractive pattern of black and white; the crown, lores, forehead, throat, necksides, mantle, back and tail were all black and the rest was white. The bill was grey and the legs were flesh-pink.

Coincidentally, almost 30 years to the day later, one turned up at Carbeth Loch, near Milngavie, on the 19th March 2024. As such, this was reasonably 'available' and, as such, of interest to me in relation to my Scottish list. As my UK list had passed 500 some while ago, and as my Scottish list now approached 400, the latter was of increasing importance to me. When I had first come to Scotland more than 40 years earlier, I wasn't particularly interested in good birds which were available in Scotland if I had already seen them elsewhere in the UK. This was now longer the case.

Anyway, news of the 'available' Bufflehead broke after 18:00 in the 19th March (too late to go). For whatever reason I didn't go the following day, which proved to be a good decision, as it had disappeared.

The following Sunday, the 24th March, I drove from home in South Queensferry to Castle Stuart outside Inverness, where I was working on the second golf course project there, 20 years after I had been involved with the first one. As I arrived that evening, news broke that the (yep, the same one) Bufflehead had been relocated on Sand Loch, near Collieston in Aberdeenshire.

When, early the following morning, Monday the 25th March, RBA reported it was still there, I WhatsApped my birding friend in Ullapool, Andy Williams, and asked whether he was 'Buffleheading'. He responded saying he was at Alturlie (2 km from where I was) waiting for Bob McMillan to arrive from Skye before the two of them continued on to Collieston to twitch the bird. Andy subsequently offered me a lift, but by then I was busy at work. He 'phoned me at 09:00 to reiterate his offer, and I explained I couldn't get away from work as I had pre-arranged meetings, etc., but that I was hopeful it would stick, as on the Thursday I had already made plans to drive home from Inverness to see eldest daughter Ellen and her boyfriend Shane in Aberdeen.

Unfortunately, the Bufflehead hadn't read the memo, and again had disappeared when looked for early on Wednesday 27th March, so I was thwarted again. I did have a forlorn look around nearby sites on the afternoon of Thursday 28th before going to see Ellen and Shane, but to no avail.

Having had a good night with them that evening, I left Aberdeen on the morning of Friday the 19th and drove towards South Queensferry.

I opted to call in at the Loch Leven RSPB reserve (formerly known as Vane Farm) en route, in the hope of some early summer migrants, or a scarce duck.... . Little did I know. Once there, for whatever reason, I opted to visit the three hides in reverse order to my norm, starting with the furthest away, before returning to the largest, and closest to the loch itself, rather than the pools.

Here there was one other birder, who turned out to be young George Dunbar, whom I had never previously met, although before he had an accident whilst ringing at Tay reed-beds and fractured his knee-cap, had been meant to be part of my party staying at the Low Light in early autumn 2023. Subsequently, George had, I knew, become the bird recorder for Perth and Kinross; Loch Leven was, in every sense 'his' patch.

It was excellent to finally catch up with him, and we had a great conversation about all sorts of common aspects of our birding worlds. Whilst we did so, we scanned the viewable parts of the loch for anything of note; George commented that he was hopeful of a Little Gull (given the time of year and the heavy showers) or even just a Scaup, and we both hoped for our first Sand Martin.

Despite our combined efforts we failed to produce anything, and had to confine ourselves to rescuing two stunned Chaffinches after they had smacked into the large windows of the hide with a terrific bang.

On leaving and returning to our cars via the visitor centre we reported this incident to one of the RSPB wardens (after first looking at the recent sightings on a whiteboard). As we approached him to tell him about the Chaffinches he said, "Is there anything wrong?" which at the time struck me as a rather odd comment, as if we had been looking for something else on the whiteboard.

Subsequently, George and I said our goodbyes. He messaged me early that evening saying it had been good to finally meet and casually suggesting we'd gone to the wrong loch (as Ken Shaw had had two Little Gulls at Kilconquhar Loch).

I responded somewhat later that evening, and within 30 minutes he had forwarded a tweet saying, "This is so annoying".

The tweet was from a Stuart Milligan, who had tweeted George (as the recorder) at 15:17 that afternoon to say, "Hi George. Pretty sure the Bufflehead has popped up on Loch Leven, east of the RSPB centre. Apologies if old news". For whatever reason George hadn't received the tweet and as such, despite scanning virtually the same area of the loch (the bird was seen from just a few hundred metres away) we were oblivious.

George subsequently also forwarded an e-mail from Stuart Milligan (presumably as Stuart was mystified as to why the news hadn't got out) reiterating and enlarging on his sighting. He also suggested he had reported in at the visitor centre and would be sending a description via BirdTrack.

So near and yet so far. George and I had a dialogue about the scenario and George confirmed that the news was now out.

I subsequently sent a message to our Serious Birding Bantering WhatsApp group detailing this unfortunate scenario.

As a consequence, the following morning, I got a WhatsApp message from Ken Shaw saying, "The Bufflehead is showing Loch Leven".

I was there within the hour, and so finally caught up with it. And very good it was too. I missed Ken (who had relocated it - fair play) but caught up with Mark Wilkinson, John Nadin, Dennis and James Morrison, Sandy Morrison, Euan McLauchlan, et al.. What a saga!

Bufflehead, Colwick Country Park, Colwick, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, March 1994 (photograph credited to Alan Clark).

Bufflehead, Colwick Country Park, Colwick, Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, March 1994 (photograph credited to unknown).

 Semi-palmated Plover – Dawlish Warren National Nature Reserve, Dawlish, Devon, 1^st July 1997

Excuse me!!? You want to do WHAT now!???. See my toes?!!??? You're having a laugh!!!!!

Some eleven weeks after it first turned up, and two weeks after it was finally, conclusively, identified and the news was released, I caught up with this one. Having managed to suppress (excuse me?) the initial instinct to go for it very soon after the news was first released, I was then faced with organising a tricky trip when I was either travelling in the opposite direction for the weekend, or working during the week.

Time moved on, and my predicament was not made any easier by the presence of two blinding birds in the country at once, albeit at opposite ends of the country. However, having taken in the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater on Mainland Shetland with such simple ease, I was sufficiently buoyed up to telephone Paul Pugh to gloat about my grip-back.

As he too had not taken in the Semi-palmated Plover, we tentatively agreed to go for it on Tuesday the 1st July, but neither of us could commit to this as we were very busy. Predictably, but understandably, Paul pulled out when I ‘phoned him on the Sunday night. I plotted to go all the same…..

On Monday the 30th June I travelled from Accrington (er, my erstwhile in-laws) to work at Audley, Staffordshire, and then on to a meeting in Burton-on-Trent, at the other end of the county. Meeting over, I then checked out part of the pipeline route, before returning to Audley. 160 miles already, but all the same I was keen to go. The only problem was that the pager suggested that the Semi-palmated Plover had vanished earlier in the day. Fortunately, as indecision set in, another message reported that it had been relocated. Even though my work colleague Mike was on the ‘phone to Nigel, I left in such a rush that he got a note. It was 16:00. I estimated four hours for the trip, and was more or less right. Despite the late hour I got through the West Midlands well, and was doing well until I hit a traffic jam in Somerset. Some 40 minutes delay followed.

I might still have got there in time to see it that evening, if it hadn’t been for my determination to make it to Sowley Services before I filled up. This I failed to do….. .

I ran out of diesel at Collumpton, and having experience of the implications of this, it only took a further 40 minutes to rectify this shortage of diesel, as I stopped under an overbridge, which lead straight into Collumpton, and a garage, which thankfully was still open. I was then able to hurtle on towards my final destination, but even then, I was confused by the layout of Dawlish and Dawlish Warren. Finally, I made it but it was really too late. I yomped towards the hide and was told by a solitary birdwatcher that he had last seen it about an hour ago, but that it had flown off. It was not obvious from the hide, so I walked back along the beach still without any signs that gave me any feeling of optimism.

Some very useful interpretation in the hide at Dawlish Warren!

I met the same birdwatcher back at the car-park, and he imparted lots of useful advice. I was resigned to a night in the car. To help things along I went into Dawlish and found a Chinese take-away. I made my purchase and returned to Dawlish Warren, seeing a Nightjar hawking on the way back. I consumed my meal in the car-park of a pub, and afterwards went in for a pint, but unfortunately this proved to be disappointing in comparison with the Chinese and the Nightjar.

On returning to the car-park I really got myself organised for the night ahead, although it was, initially at least, somewhat disconcerting due to frequent gunshots and cars nearby!

Having slept – finally, soundly, briefly, I was up and about by 04:30 –ish. I again yomped quickly along to the hide, although this time I took a short-cut over the golf-course, as even golfers weren’t up at that time. Although the state of the tide was more favourable, I could only see larger species of wader roosting from the hide. I then made my way to the fenced-off area, where there were indeed Dunlin and Ringed Plover, although as far as I could see there was only one non-adult Ringed Plover. So, I returned to the hide again, still with no success.

On my way back across the foreshore between the hide itself and the access track I was attracted by the call of a Ringed Plover. At first, I couldn’t even find the calling bird, let alone anything else, but finally I got on it amongst the pioneer saltmarsh vegetation. Once I had located it, I noticed that there was another and almost immediately another. Was that it or was it that one? No, that was it – it had to be!!

I picked out what appeared to be a long-legged version of the immature Ringed Plovers, distinctive for this reason and also its ‘different’ expression. I struggled to keep on it as it scampered across the mudflats whilst attempting to refer to Cotteridge and Vinicombe, Rare Birds in Britain and Ireland, but all the same I was reasonably confident, and all the more so the more I looked.

I moved along the foreshore in an attempt to get a better view, but for no apparent reason, as I struggled with my ‘scope and tripod, book, notebook and rucksack, the three Charadrius spp. took off and flew towards the sea. In flight the size difference was very marked, as was the difference in the wing-bar pattern.

I rushed off in the same direction, and as I did so I passed a Golden Retriever as I made my way to the beach, where I failed to locate the three first-summer ‘ringed’ plovers. On my return to the mudflats, I had an altercation with a dog-owner, due to my irritation over her lack of control over her dog.

Having regained my composure, I finally relocated first the ten or so Dunlin, and then the three ‘ringed’ plovers. This time the Semi-palmated Plover was (even) easier to pick out. However, frustratingly once I had re-located it, it again began quickly running and calling, before flying towards the sea again. This time the size difference and wing-bar pattern were even more apparent.

After another quick check of the beach, I decided to cut my losses, and so returned to the car-park. I attempted to give news of my sightings to someone who proved not to be the warden, and so, some 30 minutes later, I ‘phoned the news in to Dick Filby from Sowley Services.

So, I had managed to see two stonking birds in a short space of time, having both birds to myself, and identifying them myself (not that this was particularly difficult to identify the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater!). One storming twitch for a stonking bird in Shetland, followed by a repeat performance for another in Devon less than a week later. And identifying one of the most difficult species on the list was quite a thrill; I was feeling very pleased with myself as I left Dawlish, Devon, the South West of England, etc..

June had been a very good month, particularly if I included the last seven hours of May and the first seven hours of July!!

Most (all except the palmations?!?!?) of the identification criteria were picked up on. Size difference, (particularly noticeable in flight), “chee-wee,” call seemingly quieter on the ground or at first, indistinct wing-bar, jizz – long-legged and hunched, short stubby bill, different, (harder?), face pattern with flat W –shaped supercilium, worn remiges, etc..

Semi-palmated Plover, Dawlish Warren, Dawlish, Devon, July 1997 (photograph credited to Alan Tate).