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).

 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).