Out of Sync

During this morning's second cup of coffee I opened up Twitter and discovered that it had finally happened. A Rufous Bush Chat went and burst its own mythical bubble by turning up in Norfolk. The last UK occurence was the very day that Sandra and I got married: August 9th, 1980. Forty years, two months and eight days ago. Birding wasn't my main hobby back then, so I didn't get the gen until I read about Richard Millington's August 10th dip in A Twitcher's Diary, some 18 months later. As the years clocked up, and Rufous Bush Chats resolutely avoided British soil, it became one of my most wanted. So what did I do about this morning's revelation?

Tucked it away for blog post material later.

It's at times like this that I most feel completely out of sync with so many of my fellow birders. And indeed, with my former self. If my desire to rush off to Norfolk and see this bird could have been measured on a gauge, the needle would not have flickered. I see all the photos and read the euphoric tweets of triumph, and feel...nothing. Well, not nothing, I suppose, but certainly not envy, regret, longing or lust. Rather I feel utterly disconnected from it all. Like the last place I would want to be right now was Stiffkey in Norfolk...

At lunchtime yesterday I spent an hour or two poking around Seatown, a coastal hamlet between West Bay and Charmouth. I was hoping for Yellow-browed Warbler. I got Goldcrest, 2 Coal Tits, 2 Siskins, 2 Redpolls feeding in a silver birch, and 7 Clouded Yellows in a single field. There were quite a few folk out walking in the sunshine, but they were easy to avoid. There were no birders at all.

Seatown. Basically a few houses, a caravan site, a pub and a car park.

This afternoon I ventured out to West and East Bexington again. Just 3 Chiffs, a Blackcap, a Clouded Yellow, and this...

My first Wheatear in a while.

Again, a few out walking, lots of anglers on the beach, but no birders. There is quite a long stretch of rough habitat between the beach and coast path, and I thought it unlikely that anyone had explored it this afternoon. I flushed the Wheatear from it, but fancy it for a Snow Bunting or something.

Beach on the left, coast path on the right, quiet zone in the middle. Containing who knows what? Today, a Wheatear and some Meadow Pipits.

In the main I have little interest in chasing someone else's birds. That's not to say I won't, but I rarely get anything meaningful from doing so. In fact, frequently it's been a massive anti-climax. I would much, much rather find my own. That's where I get my birding jollies. And it doesn't have to be something scarce or rare. Context is everything. I am realistic enough to appreciate that my chances of finding a local Pallas' Warbler or Red-flanked Bluetail are super slim, but a Yellow-browed Warbler is on the cards. And if that happens it will seriously make my day, because I have never found a local YBW while birding! Yesterday I was chuffed at the perched Redpolls (a rare local sight for me) and today the Wheatear was enough to put a big smile on my face.

In the last two days I've put in a few hours for what might seem scant reward. Many of today's Rufous Bush Chat twitchers might think I'm daft. That's fine. I'm happy with these few miles of beautiful coast, and the amazingly low birder density. I don't get upset or frustrated when it's quiet. If the birding is slow, there is always a lovely walk to enjoy. And as we all know, it only takes one bird...