A Bit of a Lesson

Apart from an overnighting motorhome the Cogden car park was empty when I arrived at 05:55. The light was dim; a gentle north-westerly breeze stirred the cool air. It felt autumnal. Typically I begin an early morning visit here by dawdling downhill to the beach, then head west along the coast path and back along the beach. This morning I reached the turning point without troubling my notebook app. A bit of pishing here and there, but no bites. Finally, halfway back along the beach, a migrant...

The first photo, literally moments after we spotted one another.

At migration times I am plagued by a ridiculously optimistic sense of expectation, especially at first light. I cannot help it. Gazing out over acres of as-yet unbirded south coast, the question is obvious: what's dropped in overnight? And more importantly, where is it? Better still: where are they? I fall for it every time, getting all keyed up beyond reason. However, by the time a completely migrant-free hour has passed, and a mile or more of silent bushes, I am once again comfortable with the reality of what is normal, ie, a nice walk in lovely surroundings, with the off chance of a decent bird or two. At which point a single Wheatear is a very welcome sight.

There's a reason I can't resist a posing Wheatear. I mean, just look at it!

The single Wheatear became three, and it was almost time to turn inland again. Just a final scan of the sea...

Ooh! That's a shearwater. And there's another. Suddenly I was looking at several shearwaters, and they appeared to be hanging around rather than passing through. Not too far out, but well to the west of me. I'd already sussed at least one Balearic among them, so hurried along the beach to get closer. Part way there I had another look. At least ten, maybe 15 birds, milling around over a smallish area. Some were certainly Manxies, their contrasty black-and-white plumage obvious as they turned, but at least two had the brown tone and dusky underparts of Balearics. At this range, with just bins, I couldn't say more than that. I hurried on.

Eventually I reckoned I must be more or less level with them. Puffing a bit, I scanned carefully. Initially there was no sign, but then I picked them up way off to my left, heading purposefully eastwards. A bit gutted I phoned Mike, hoping he'd get on them from West Bex. Sadly not.

A little flock of shearwaters was definitely not on my radar this morning, and I think they might have taught me a bit of a lesson.

I very rarely carry a scope these days, but boy did I miss having one this morning! My scope/tripod combo weighs 5kg (11lb) and is a pain to carry, so I mostly don't bother with it. And right there is a telling admission. The reason I rarely take a scope is not because I don't need it (clearly I sometimes do!), but because I hate lugging it about on long walks. And of course the answer to this problem is staring right at me from the Scopac website...

Some years ago I recall being party to a bit of leg-pulling when one of the Axe birders bought a Scopac. I have a horrible feeling I may well be eating words pretty soon. Serves me right.

Anyway, after the shearwater episode I tried one last hedge. Unprovoked, a cracking little Sedge Warbler popped out and spent several seconds inspecting me, before deciding I was harmless and slipping away into the foliage. A bit of quiet pishing coaxed it straight back out...

The very inquisitive young Sedge Warbler.

A little further along, two Willow Warblers and a second Sedgie. Result.

That's the sea in the background. I like living here.