Taking Stock

The first round of Bridport Bird Club's House Sparrow survey is now complete. Each of my last two counts produced a nice bonus bird...

A lovely Firecrest in Symondsbury churchyard. What do you mean, 'Where is it?'?!

A/the Goosander on the River Asker just a few minutes from home last Saturday.

We're back on the sparrows from January 8th, and I've no doubt there will be some more surprise encounters with birds which aren't sparrows. One of the major highlights this time around was Luke's trio of Dartford Warblers. I went for another look on Saturday morning, and found two of them. Both were rather shy, but one looked suspiciously like an adult male, which I certainly didn't see last time. Some other birds in the same area...

Lesser Redpoll. An uncommon winter bird locally.

Reed Bunting. One of 25-30 at least. Perfect Little Bunting bait. One can always hope.

Only a Bullfinch, I know, but it is one of those common birds that always makes me get the camera out.

I'll bet I am not the only birder who feels like they are marking time right now, as the final days of 2022 dribble away. I can hardly wait to get started on the blank page that is 2023. It is traditional for blog writers to crank out some sort of review in December, but I confess that I find it a chore to do so, and suspect it would not be the most stimulating read either. Instead, here is a random summary of stuff wot I have learned this year...

West Bay is miles better than I thought.

Apart from the odd seawatch, I didn't give West Bay any real birding effort until October, whereupon it repaid me with my best find of the year...

Juvenile Barred Warbler - photo ©Peter Coe

To be frank, it wasn't just for the first nine months of 2022 that I failed to give West Bay much birding effort; more like the last seven years. My loss. For starters, it has a superb seawatching shelter, and the nature of the coastline here does attract a feeding flock of gulls in certain conditions. A lingering Sabine's Gull, an amazing 14 Leach's Petrels, 8 Little Gulls, a Pom Skua and countless Kittiwakes were the stormy season's major prizes, but spring and autumn Velvet Scoters, plus a morning count of 59 Balearic Shearwaters are typical examples of the variety on offer.

When it comes to the coastal strip, I have barely scratched the surface. Barred Warbler, obviously, also Dartford Warbler and vis-mig Woodlark, plus a juv Cirl Bunting for Tom. And I haven't forgotten this, from two years ago...

7th November, 2020. This Snow Bunting dropped in during one of Tom's vis-mig watches.

And I wonder what the golf course might produce? The East Cliff coast path which borders the seaward side of it just screams potential, yet prior to this autumn I had walked it just once before.

Talking to people isn't so bad.

Apart from collaborative contact with other local birders, I have spent many years carefully avoiding unnecessary interaction with my fellow humans. It's not so much that I am unsociable, but simply lazy. And yet 2022 saw me give two public presentations on noc-mig and lead three rewilding walks at Mapperton Wildlands. What is more, I enjoyed it. And birding West Bay, it is impossible to avoid talking to people. I have enjoyed that too. Mostly I blame the unhealthy influence of Tom Brereton for all this, but I'm not complaining. Still, it proves one thing...

I am easily led.

Bridport Bird Club is the brainchild of Tom, along with Pete Forrest. It is not a social club, rather its aim is to carry out surveys and local, bird-related conservation projects. I have spent my whole birding life avoiding survey work, and yet here I am, counting sparrows. And enjoying it too. How come? I wonder if the fact that it gives some of my birding a more constructive purpose than usual might be a clue? And it feels good to be part of a team which has such laudable goals.

Moths are amazing!

Flippin' heck! Revelation of the year, without a doubt. I could say way too much about this, and get very boring, so I shall sum it up with a nice collage of that group of moths which have almost universal appeal...

Local is sufficient.

Over the years I have visited various parts of Europe and the USA, and spent a few weeks in Jamaica. None of that was for birding per se, but I have done at least a little in all those places. Yet, for some reason, I have never been bitten by the travel bug, and foreign birding has absolutely zero appeal. Even within these islands, I lost interest in collecting species a long time ago. If either of the above are still important to you, fair play. But speaking for myself, I am glad that I am able to get my birding jollies from increasingly simple fare. It makes life uncomplicated and is inexpensive in more ways than one. And endlessly fascinating...

There may be another post or two before the year is out, but I shall nevertheless take this opportunity to say many thanks to all of you who drop in here from time to time, and I hope 2023 brings a few nice birds, moths, fish, bryophytes, or whatever lights your fire...

Pale & Interesting

Today was mostly earmarked for work, but following two days of wind, rain and very little birding I couldn't resist a quick look at West Bay first. A couple of notable highlights...

A Shoveler with the River Brit Mallards was my first there, and probably quite a good bird for West Bay. Unlike the Mallards, it was a teeny bit skittish...

...and was soon up and away.

The female-type Black Redstart was a lot more obliging than usual, feeding around the West Beach rocks. The weather was a lot more obliging than usual too.

Little did I know that the day was to be book-ended by chats, one a lot less predictable than Black Redstart...

Shortly after starting work I noticed a message from Ian M on the local WhatsApp group. 'Wheatear Colyford Common', it said. Just a Northern Wheatear he reckoned, but even so, I cannot recall ever seeing a Wheatear in December. Momentarily I was tempted, but a full schedule and not much daylight stayed my hand. If it's still there when I've finished, then maybe...

Around 2pm I began my last job of the day, quite a big one, certainly an hour plus.

At 14:01, this message on the WhatsApp group:

'Has come up on BirdGuides as Isabelline. Is that correct?'

This was followed by a rapid flurry of messages and photos. By 14:11 the identification was in no doubt, and I had shifted into a working gear that is engaged very, very rarely. For sure, I have never completed that particular job so quickly. Did I mention that it was just half a mile from Colyford Common? No, I don't think I did. By 14:54 I had taken the first of many photos...

Isabelline Wheatear, an object lesson in 'pale & interesting'.

There were a few birders already present, mostly locals, and a steady trickle of arrivals from then on. Like me, almost all of them had turned up expecting to see an Isabelline Wheatear. Yep, the tricky ID stuff had already been sorted out by others. But that was not the case earlier in the day. In some ways I am glad I resisted that temptation to go and see a 'December Wheatear'. Would alarm bells have rung sufficiently loudly? Would I have sussed it? Or would I have been more concerned with buzzing off back to work, and mucked it up? I sympathised with those who saw it in the morning. A very different kettle of fish for us latecomers - when a bird has already been identified for you, it is so much easier to note all the subtle features that collectively nail it.

I have seen two Isabelline Wheatears before, the most recent on Gugh, Scilly in 1991. My first was the year before, also on Scilly. And that one I found, kind of. I've told the story too many times before, but, briefly, this is it...

Sandra and I had just arrived on Scilly with our two young sons. Walking across the golf course in search of an Upland Sandpiper we spied a crowd of birders peering into a field, with their backs towards us. Assuming they were looking at the Upland Sand (they weren't, but rather a Red-throated Pipit) we headed over. En route we passed several Wheatears, and hopping about the fairway right behind the crowd was a rather obviously pale one. Pale enough to make me stop and grill it. 'Why isn't this an Isabelline?' I thought. I glanced across at the crowd. Nobody was looking at the Wheatear. Why not? 'Perhaps it's just an oddly pale Northern Wheatear that's been here all week and is already known about?' I wondered. But I couldn't tear myself away. Surely it must be Isabelline? But I wasn't sure, and didn't have the courage to say anything out loud. Ray Turley had been in our tracks across the golf course and had almost caught up. He too was now grilling the Wheatear. At that moment it flew a short distance, displaying a strikingly whitish underwing, a terrific feature in favour of Isabelline. Ray had a CB radio, and instantly announced the bird's presence. You could hear his message crackling out of the radios carried by some of the Red-throated Pipit twitchers, and there was a massive clattering of tripods as the crowd about-faced.

Yep, today's bird looked just like it.

A few more pics follow. A bit samey, but a couple in the warm, late afternoon sunshine that favoured us for a while...

Sadly it was never particularly close, but still, what a great way to close the working day...

When Cold is Hard

This morning was possibly the last in a series of proper sub-zero dawns. There is no doubt a good freeze does spice up the birding, but you have to feel for the birds which struggle to find food when the ground is rock hard or covered in snow, and are then forced to move. A few times in the past we have witnessed thousands of birds heading west along (or close to) the local coast in such conditions, yet known that things were as bad or worse further on. Pretty grim. On this occasion it hasn't been too dramatic, with Lapwing, Golden Plover and Snipe being the main species noticeably affected.

Just before sunrise I could see a number of Lapwings hunkered down in the undisturbed field north of the river in West Bay. Amazingly, they had an obvious covering of frost. Which I guess demonstrates the insulating qualities of a layer of feathers, but also just how hard it must be for these birds. I was expecting a lot of movement once the sun rose, but in the end there was very little, just 34 Lapwings and nothing else. I guess the last few days of sub-zero temperatures have already shifted everything that needed to shift...

On Wednesday morning I counted 196 Lapwings, heading west or coming in-off in the freezing north-easterly, plus 67 Golden Plovers and 13 grounded Snipe. And yesterday the tally was 530 Lapwings, 117 Golden Plovers and 10 Snipe, plus an unexpected bonus in the shape of two, locally scarce Black-tailed Godwits west. Ducks have been few - just a handful of Teal, plus a/the Goosander on the river on two mornings.

A typical sight this week - a small flock of Lapwings heading west.

Some House Sparrow survey by-catch - a nice flock of 77 Golden Plovers just north of Bradpole on Wednesday afternoon, plus a couple of Lapwings below.

The House Sparrow survey continues to produce little surprises. Tom found a Siberian Chiffchaff this afternoon, and yesterday I was granted access to some private land which, in addition to 17 Sparrows, also gave me a Bridport recording area tick...

Marsh Tit - one of two.

The property's owner invited me in for a cuppa afterwards, and we watched a Marsh Tit on the garden feeders just outside the kitchen window. Great to have this species so close to town. Meanwhile, a few Fieldfares were in the orchard...

Fieldfare, soaking up the final scant bit of warmth from yesterday's sunshine.

This afternoon I took advantage of our smallest granddaughter's nap time to hit the trail north from our house, a nice valley walk that I've done a few times now, and which falls within my PWC 2023 Bridport North patch. But today was a bit special, with two species I did not expect...

Dipper! Poor photo in the distant, gloomy shade, but I don't care.

Many times I have searched for Dipper along this little river, so it was extremely pleasing to come across this one, probably just 10 minutes walk from home. It zipped off downstream shortly after this photo was taken, even closer to my front door!

A bit further on I had a good poke around in an area I've always fancied for Woodcock. I think I have only checked it once before, without success, but this afternoon I found two immediately. Brilliant! Another personal first for the Bridport recording area. Not wanting to spoil my chances of a repeat performance in January, when I start the 2023 Patchwork Challenge, I didn't disturb the area any further!

Looking back over the last two-and-a-bit months, I can hardly believe how good the birding has been. Short of dishing up a pukka British Birds rarity, I fail to see what more the Bridport recording area could have done to persuade me to give it a lot of attention next year...

More Than Sparrows

The Birds of Dorset (published 2004) describes the status of House Sparrow thus: 'Abundant resident'. However, the most recent Dorset Bird Report that I possess (2020) says this: 'Common, but declining breeding resident'. Common, but...

Yes, 'but' is a word frequently linked with the status of House Sparrow. Here are some random data regarding our familar, chirpy friend.

First up, culled from various Dorset sources, figures for post-breeding flock peak counts at Portland and Durlston, plus Portland Bird Observatory annual ringing totals from 1978...

Hopefully that's fairly legible. It rather looks like House Sparrow numbers fell off a cliff around the mid-1970s to early 1980s at both locations. However, for something even more dramatic, here's an example from central London. Specifically, Kensington Gardens, where I think it was Max Nicholson who originally organised annual autumn counts in November. These numbers all from The Birds of London (2014) and The State of the Nation's Birds (2000)...

Because I'm too lazy to do a massive load of research, these examples will have to suffice, but it is safe to say that House Sparrows have done pretty badly in a lot of places. And while various likely causes are suggested, it often comes across as rather speculative. It 'may' be this, or 'possibly' that, or 'perhaps' a combination of several, and so on.

Anyway, apart from an excuse to show you those jaw-dropping London figures, the main reason I mention the humble spadger is to lead in to some pleasing by-catch of the Bridport Bird Club's survey of the area's House Sparrow winter roosts. Poking around the quiet, unbirded corners of the local area has produced 2 Firecrests so far. Nice, but not unexpected perhaps. The same cannot be said for Luke Phillips' discovery a couple of days ago: 3 Dartford Warblers together! A superb local record. I went for a look yesterday, and found at least two of them. They were super-skulky though...

One Dartford Warbler. The only photo opportunity I got.

Unfortunately they are in neither of my Patchwork Challenge patches, but excellent local birds all the same. Their discovery illustrates the rewards to be had from searching every nook and cranny. For a variety of reasons the habitat they are in is likely to be temporary, but right now it is leaping with birds. And until yesterday I had no idea it was there. At least 20 Reed Buntings, plus 2 Redpolls (scarce locally) made for an entertaining visit. Makes you wonder what else might be lurking out there, right? Like this, from a bog-standard town park in Exmouth yesterday...

A lot of birders of my generation saw their first Olive-backed Pipit about 38 years ago in Bracknell, Berkshire, in a back garden. I've also seen one in some random bit of Epping Forest, an equally unexpected location. Yep, almost anything can turn up almost anywhere. Brilliant stuff!

This morning I tried a little seawatch at West Bay, hoping once again for some cold-weather movement. It was worth the effort, with 4 Pintail the highlight. Also significant were 7 Red-throated Divers, 12 Teal and 5 Golden Plover, with 5 Med Gulls, a Brent Goose and a Common Scoter making up the also-rans. The three Purple Sandpipers were together on the harbour wall, and a Little Egret flew in and landed on one of the rocky groyne-things...

Little Egret context shot.

Chilly again tonight. Another early seawatch, probably...

Small Things

How do you get your birding jollies? I wonder if, like me, they mostly come from simple, unspectacular events, small things. It has frequently struck me how a number of small things can provide a degree of pleasure and satisfaction out of all proportion to their real significance. In line with that, here are a few reasons why I've enjoyed my birding just lately...

A couple of days ago I saw two Black Redstarts in West Bay. One by the Esplanade, and another along the East Cliffs...

The Esplanade Black Redstart, with virtually no white in the wing at all. I definitely hadn't seen this one before.

The East Cliff bird, with (inset) beach bird from 17th November. Subtle, but there are enough differences there to convince me they are not the same individual, especially comparing other photos of both birds too.

So, with the gorgeous adult male from 5th December, that's at least four different West Bay Black Redstarts in the last few weeks. A nice tally, and a pleasing small thing.

For some time I have quietly suspected the West Bay Purple Sandpipers were playing a little joke on us. Mostly I have seen two birds, but sometimes just one. Whenever it's been a lone bird, there has never been any sign of another, no matter how hard I've looked or how long I've waited. But when I've seen two birds they have been on view together almost 100% of the time, joined at the hip. Which made me wonder if there were actually three: a pair and a singleton. This morning I found out...

Right at the far end of the harbour wall was this one, prodding around on the sloping concrete slab. Absolutely no sign of another, and I'd not seen any on the way out there.

But on the way back, these two, virtually inseparable as always, about half way along.

Proof, finally! There are indeed three Purple Sands at West Bay. Another small thing.

Yesterday afternoon I walked over to Eype and back. Not much to report, but arriving back in West Bay I spied a Goosander flying south over the harbour. It went straight out to sea, turned west and headed along the coast. Seconds later, a Kingfisher plonked onto the concrete wall of the outer harbour...

Goosander heading west.

Kingfisher in standard Kingfisher habitat.

Just a couple of small things.

I've been wondering if the recent freeze might produce a bit of cold-weather movement, but to be honest I am so wimpish in cold weather these days that I struggle to get out in it and don't really deserve to see much. Late this morning I did see a few Lapwings on the move - a flock of 8 and a couple of singles - and flushed 4 Snipe from the wet field behind 'Rise' restaurant in West Bay, but prize of the day was on the river, hiding in plain sight among the local Mallards...

A slim, elegant female Pintail.

A nice West Bay record, that. And the last of my recent small things. Altogether a lot of fun.

Low-carbon Birding - the Book

In February 2021 I received an unexpected invitation. Would I like to write a chapter for a book about low-carbon birding? The resultant essay is one of 29, grouped under four broad themes: patch birding, birding holidays by train, personal reflections about embracing low-carbon birding, and personal accounts from professional ornithologists about their research on the way climate change affects birds. Guess where mine fits...

It has taken me almost three months to digest this book. Inspirational, illuminating, surprising, sad, triumphant - just a few adjectives which apply. To some extent it is the kind of book which can be read in random order, especially the guest chapters, but parts of it I needed to re-read once or twice in order to extract maximum value. The book's purpose is stated in the introduction:

'The aim of this book is to show that sufficiency in birdwatching is not only good for the planet but it can bring untold pleasures.'

Sufficiency is a word I have rarely (if ever?) seen linked with this hobby, and you really need to read the book to appreciate its application in that context. The editor, Javier Caletrío, contributed the introduction, chapters 1 (Are We Addicted to High-Carbon Ornithology?) and 2 (Questions of Travel, Climate and Responsibility), plus an afterword. None of it is preachy, rather an appeal to reason and very thought-provoking. I can safely say this book has encouraged me to reexamine my approach to birding. I recommend it highly.

Mention of low-carbon birding frequently elicits the most peculiar responses. The usual what-aboutery of course, and 'it's okay for you, especially where you live' type stuff, for example. Is it simply that anyone who advocates low-carbon birding is seen as a condemnatory finger-pointer? Why not simply do what I used to, and ignore them? That worked brilliantly for me. Er...

Anyway, in the December edition of British Birds is an article by a chap named Paul Jepson, entitled 'Low-carbon and nature-positive birding'. In it are four references to something called the 'low-carbon birding movement', and this sentence...

The low-carbon birding movement calls for 'a different approach to how we [ornithologists] think about and enjoy our holidays.'

The bit in quotation marks is from Javier Caletrío's letter to BB (published in vol 112, pp 760-761) entitled 'A new focus for Birdfair?' What is this 'low-carbon birding movement' nonsense? Most amusing. And to infer that Javier is the voice of this so-called 'movement' is lazy misrepresentation at best, and makes me distrust the rest of the article. Paul Jepson is 'head of innovation' at CreditNature Ltd. I detect a tiny lack of impartiality.

Thank goodness I am just a simple birder.

And simple birding is great. Yesterday was very cold, but sunny. With a northerly breeze, I wondered if a lunchtime walk along West Bay's East Beach might be productive. Specifically, I was thinking Black Redstart on the sheltered East Cliffs. The last time I walked this beach was in the first lockdown of 2020. And the last time I walked the return leg along the clifftop was...er...about four years ago!

Lo and behold! Black Redstart on the East Cliffs.

I strongly suspect this was a different Black Redstart to the one that has been knocking about in West Bay, with a lot less white in the wing. I never managed any better shots, but along the clifftop were these...

You can always rely on Stonechats for a bit of posing.

Rock Pipit - one of at least ten seen.

The prevalence of Rock Pipits along the clifftop and adjacent golf course bodes very well for early spring. I foresee another littoralis project. All comfortably within my Patchwork Challenge boundary. Excellent.

Winding Down

A fair bit of local plodding today. Nicely rewarded too...

This fab Goosander was a nice surprise, resting up on the River Asker about 15 minutes walk from home. Presumably the same immature male I first encountered at West Bay on 21st Nov.

Context shot. Goosander far left; Sea Road North far right, the main road from Bridport to Beaminster.

Kingfisher. Same spot as the Goosander, photographed from the road bridge.

The Goosander stayed fairly close to this spot for much of the day, was successfully twitched by at least a couple of locals, and was a Bridport recording area tick for one. Result.

This afternoon's good intention to do a spot of House Sparrow roost surveying hit a snag when some insistent inner voice suggested a late visit to West Bay instead. Still, there's always tomorrow, eh?

Highlights included another Kingfisher, a single Purple Sandpiper, and this beauty...

This spanking male Black Redstart was flycatching on the leeward side of the harbour wall rocks with a few Pied Wags and Rock Pipits.

It was a right pig to photograph, rarely still for more than a second or two. Plus the light was grim.

I wonder where this bird came from? I am pretty sure the only West Bay Black Redstart I've seen so far this autumn/winter (on three occasions I think) has been the same 1st-winter individual each time. I cannot imagine we would have missed this adult male, so can only assume it's a new bird. And very welcome it is too.

Just the one Purple Sandpiper today. It's been a while since I last saw two...

Again there was a nice gathering of gulls on the river by Rise restaurant, having a pre-roost wash and brush-up. And again there nothing much to get excited about. A single Lesser Black-backed Gull made a nice change from the ubiquitous Herrings, but the stand-out highlight was an old friend...

Just look at this peach!

This 2nd-winter Med Gull appears to be a West Bay fixture right now. And today it could hardly have chosen a more convenient perch for a nice pic. I think it likes me.

It's been a while since I updated my #LocalBigYear list. Several weeks in fact. So, with the end of 2022 approaching all too rapidly, I dug it out earlier and added a few blobs of green highlighter. I appear to be on 169, which compares favourably with 2021's 165. There are some glaring gaps though. Have I really not managed a Redshank or Turnstone? In fact the wader list is pitiful. Just 17 species. Still, the year is not done yet, it is merely winding down. One more bird for 170. Doable? I would say so...

In preparation for the 2023 Patchwork Challenge effort I have added a new page to this blog - PWC 2023 - where I intend to keep the relevant lists for each patch, and possibly other stuff too. I'm still a bit unsure how I'll cope with the self-imposed boundary aspect, but will give it a fair crack. At least it will be a lot more low-carbon than usual.

Asker Otter

In marked contrast to the previous month or so, this past week has been dry and calm. For me it has meant filling the daylight hours with work and little else, so yesterday afternoon I was like a dog off the leash, all bouncy and eager. But where to run?

The answer to that question would once have involved a drive of at least four or five miles, but not recently. Instead, I stepped out of the back door and walked to West Bay. The first half-mile takes me along a riverside path very popular with dog walkers. The River Asker at Happy Island is narrow, shallow and usually clear, with a small head of wild Brown Trout. There is much greenery, and a good mix of trees. Back in March, the Happy Island sallows held a Yellow-browed Warbler, an unseasonal treat which drew a steady stream of admirers. One or two I spoke to had remarked what a nice bit of habitat we have here. And they were right; we do. As I strolled the well-compacted, but uncharacteristically quiet path yesterday, that Yellow-browed came to mind, along with greedy thoughts of Pallas' Warbler and suchlike. Because yes, why not? An attractive bit of underwatched habbo, and surely home to the occasional such gem?

A loud 'plop' brought me back to reality, and a Kingfisher flew upstream towards and past me. The first I've seen here. Excellent. Nearing the end of the stretch, I approached a bend hidden from the main path. The afternoon's optimistic target was Dipper, and with the water level back down to normal after the bank-high, chocolate torrent of November, there were plenty of possible feeding spots. I should add that I have never seen Dipper here, but anyway...

Peering over the bank I spied a movement in the river, and instantly wished my approach had been more cautious. Unbelievably, right there below me in a few inches of water, an Otter was hurriedly swimming off downstream, a sizeable trout in its jaws! The river quickly deepened to maybe two feet, and the Otter dived. But it was still perfectly visible through the clear water, and I watched it surface and swim along the far bank, partially hidden by overhanging vegetation. Quickly I scurried downriver to a point where I could intercept the Otter when it emerged, prepping my camera en route. But sadly it never did. A few tell-tale ripples from beneath the tangled fringe, but all too soon there was no further sign. I assume it climbed out under cover of the far bank growth and found a quiet spot to consume its meal, away from prying lenses.

When it comes to the Happy Island walk, I can honestly say that Otter has never figured in my fantasy list of possibilities, not even remotely. And if I ever see another here, it will be sooner than expected. Absolute magic!

I had frittered a big chunk of daylight hoping the Otter would reemerge, so hurried on to West Bay pronto. Apart from a Chiffchaff, no other notable birds. No sign of any Purple Sandpipers on the harbour wall, nor of the Black Redstart, but it was good to see a few gulls having a pre-roost wash in the river. Plenty coming and going too. Their numbers may always be modest, but one day this lot are going to produce something special...

Late afternoon gulls on the Brit at West Bay. Always worth a look.

This smart 2nd-winter Med Gull was the classiest offering yesterday.

I've seen photos of both Glaucous and Iceland Gull at West Bay, and have managed adult Yellow-legged myself. Surely it is only a matter of time before the first West Bay Casp...or better.

The walk home was enlivened by a Goosander flying down the valley from Bridport, and apparently plonking onto the river near the West Bay Spar shop, plus another Kingfisher (or the same one?) just above Morrisons. I can see these semi-urban location references becoming more frequent on this blog. Supermarkets especially. Lidl and Co-op are just down the road...

Back in March, you may recall a post which reported on this event...

In his talk, Tom Brereton observed that although a good number of birders live in the Bridport recording area, mostly they leave it to go birding. At the time, that certainly was true of me. Slowly but surely though, I have been swayed. West Bay has wooed me with its tacky charm and some really excellent birds. Recent local walks have been unexpectedly productive, with Dipper, and now Otter. And, underpinning it all, I am well aware that the Bridport recording area includes a lot of great habitat, beautifully situated on an underwatched stretch of the south coast. The big 'P'. Potential.

I wouldn't say that this morning's quick visit to West Bay proved any points, but at least one Purple Sandpiper showed itself. Also, though my habitual check of the harbour failed to reveal any errant Little Auks, there was this...

West Bay goodie - a nice drake Wigeon...

...and a context shot.

Yep, this blog is going to look a bit different next year...