The One-Bird Theory

Two days after the Cogden Caspian Gull, a similarly striking individual was briefly present on Portland Bill. Even though very little of it is visible in the published photo, I got all sorts of déjà vu. Surely this was the Cogden bird? Hopefully the photographer Matt Ames won't mind me using his image...

Making allowances for the woeful lack of resolution in my massively cropped photos, there is enough here to convince me that the Portland Casp is the Cogden bird. (Portland Casp photo by Matt Ames)

The Portland Caspian Gull was sitting down and relaxed, so its feathers were arranged very differently to those of the standing bird at Cogden. To be honest I struggled to find matching feathers among what was on view, but I am fairly confident about a couple at least...

Shame the tertials and greater coverts aren't visible, but I am happy enough that these two feathers are a match. (Portland Casp photo by Matt Ames)

I'm not sure why I am struggling to confidently match any of the scapulars. Is it the poor quality of my photos? The bird's posture? Or maybe the bird has moulted one or two juv scaps in the interim? Or perhaps it really is a different bird?! Re the latter: obviously I don't think so!

Anyway, this isn't the first time I have seen a Caspian Gull that was subsequently (or previously) recorded elsewhere. I can think of at least three others. One of them was initially on Portland in October 2012, then on the Axe Estuary at Seaton in December.

Before I leave gulls, this smart Med Gull was on Cogden Beach this afternoon, and the presence of a ring encouraged me to photograph it...

Note the metal ring on its right leg. Shame there is no colour ring!

All I can make out is 'ARNHEM' and '3.742'

Turns out this was enough detail for Mike Morse to recognise it as a Dutch-ringed bird that he photographed back in August, and previously in July last year. He is still waiting to hear back on the bird's history.

Other recent stuff...

Highlight of an early visit to Cogden on Monday...

Spot the three Sanderlings.

There weren't many gulls on the beach, but one looked vaguely interesting so I got the camera out and zoomed up to 2000mm for a closer look. It was just a Herring Gull, but while peering through the camera I spied three little waders scuttling among the gulls. I hadn't seen them at all with bins! I didn't fancy the shingle that morning, so just took a couple of super-long range photos. Well, at least you can see what they are.

On Tuesday, Mike let me know that a roosting Nightjar he had discovered at Cogden the previous day was still present. It was in a restricted area but Mike kindly arranged access for me, so I popped along after work. I haven't seen a Nightjar in daylight for decades...

Roosting Nightjar doing 'bit of log'.

I arrived at the same time as Adam, the local farmer. The bird was closer to the viewing spot than I expected but seemed very relaxed, and as you can see in the above photo its eye is barely a slit. However, I think it was well aware of our presence. The next photo was taken just after our arrival. The bird's eye is definitely open a touch - there is a little glint there...

Nightjar, possibly not quite as roosty as it looks.

Finally...

Very few migrants at Cogden this afternoon, but at least there was a Whinchat.

A remarkably pale Buzzard, on the road between Seaton and Lyme Regis.

Cogden Casp

Cogden was dull, dreary and dripping first thing, and its bushes a bit quiet. The light rain gradually eased to nothing as I headed slowly east along the coast path, and the relative lack of migrants prompted me to return along the beach for a change. I had already noted a decent flock of big gulls to check out, but knowing how jittery and unapproachable they normally are I didn't hold out much hope of extracting anything special. For once I was delightfully wrong.

After a few beach-based Wheatears and Whinchats, I was getting close to the gulls. They tend to flush at the slightest provocation, so I gingerly peered over the shingle ridge and had a scan of the closest birds. My disbelieving eyes nearly popped out of their sockets - almost the first bird I saw was one of the most instantly-obvious Caspian Gulls I have been fortunate enough to encounter...

1cy (first calendar-year) Caspian Gull in the foreground, with five Herring Gulls (4x 1cy plus a 2cy) behind. As this photo suggests, I was desperately trying to keep out of sight. Full 2000mm zoom and roughly 50% crop.

I could hardly have been more jammy. I had managed not to flush the gulls, and there was no one else on the beach yet. Perfect. I spent the next ten minutes on my knees, papping away. Which accounts for the following image glut...

A nice open-wing shot, showing tail pattern also.

It was a big bird, but not enormous.

This mid-preen shot nicely shows the many unmoulted juv scaps.

Alongside young Herring Gulls it was a case of chalk and cheese.

The final shot in the above sequence got me thinking...

To my eye the Casp stands out like a sore thumb, but I am well aware that to many birders it is just a gull among gulls, and visually unremarkable. Almost three years ago I was asked to write a gull ID article for the Dorset Bird Club magazine. I cannot recall exactly what the brief was, but I ended up focusing specifically on first-winter Caspian Gull. The piece was published in the August 2022 edition of Dorset Birds, and entitled How to Find Your Own Dorset Caspian Gull. At the time I had found just three Casps in Dorset, but including today's bird have since added two others. My aim was to encourage gull sceptics simply to look at big gulls with a view to picking out a first-winter Casp. Caspian Gull is genuinely scarce in Dorset - and I would not be surprised if the species is missing from the county lists of many Dorset birders - but first-winters are realistically do-able for anyone who wants to make the effort. And in my opinion that effort is likely - in time - to be rewarded.

Today's bird was not exactly what I would call a 'first-winter', but it was well on the way. Certainly it is the youngest Casp I have ever seen, with a lot of juvenile scapulars still, but the strikingly white head that first-winters display was coming along nicely. So, in the hopes of encouraging larophobes maybe to dip a toe into the dark, dark water, here are a couple of the above pics with [hopefully] helpful annotations...

Some of the 'catch your eye' type features.

Less 'catch your eye', more 'interesting detail'.

Of course, a key aspect of Casp ID is sorting out what age it is, but honestly, no Herring Gull ever looks like this bird!

Admittedly I do look at gulls when I get the chance, but my five West Dorset Casps in less-than-optimum locations over nine years suggests that there is plenty of potential for any would-be Casp finder.

Beyond the gull flock, a handful of what I initially assumed were Cormorants lurked at the water's edge. Well, three of them turned out to be juvenile Shags, a fairly scarce species here...

Nice comparison of juv Shag (left) with Cormorant.

Two of the three Shags.

Finally, some passerines...

Juv Whinchat at the back of the beach.

Fence post decoration.

...and the best moth of last night's meagre lot...

Olive-tree Pearl Palpita vitrealis. A migrant, and the garden's second, following one in 2022.

A Few Migrants

According to BirdTrack, the last time I visited Cogden was nearly six weeks ago, on July 29th. Pretty pathetic, but sounds about right. I noted just three birds. All fly-bys, all photographed...

Cogden goodies from July 29th: Marsh Harrier, Oystercatcher and Curlew.

Evidently there were no passerines worth mentioning, and as I managed almost zero birding through August it is no surprise that I made it to now without seeing even a Wheatear or Willow Warbler since the spring. Even by my standards that is bad. So, with work rained off, today was going to be the day to rectify such neglect.

It was dull and still at Cogden this morning, with a virtually flat-calm sea. Clearly there had been an overnight arrival, with lots of flitting and flicking and diving for cover along the coast path behind the beach. The final tally was 30 Chiffs, 10 Whitethroats, 8 Blackcaps, 4 Lesser Whitethroats, 3 Willow Warblers, an excellent total of 12 Whinchats, 6 Wheatears, a Spotted Flycatcher and a heard-only Ringed Plover. The obvious highlight was a Grasshopper Warbler which showed briefly and called loudly several times. I am pretty sure that's the first time I've heard a Gropper calling. It sounded like a Robin on steroids!

My first Wheatear-on-a-fence-post shot for a while.

Serious eyebrows. Juv Whinchat.

Spotted Flycatcher in the coast path vegetation.

Gorgeous juv Willow Warbler.

So, nothing dramatic, but a nice selection of regular migrants. My Wryneck radar was turned right up, to no avail of course. Still, it certainly felt quite birdy this morning, like something might happen any second, and that's a feeling I've not had for a long time. And very nice it was.

Early last year I wrote a post about the Great Fall of September 1965. Not quite 60 years ago, half a million migrants dropped on a 24-mile stretch of the Suffolk coast, making very special memories for a fortunate few. I think I am safe in saying that such a thing could never happen now, no matter how propitious the weather. There simply are not enough birds any more. Just recently I have seen a number of comments from long-time birders based in various locations, noting the lamentable dearth of migrants each year, and how it ain't getting any better. I take it the birds are no longer coming in the numbers of yore because they no longer exist in the numbers of yore. My outing this morning was enlivened by the overnight arrival of around 75 small birds, which is actually a soberingly small number to get excited about. That said, there were also hundreds of hirundines moving steadily through, but they don't count because they don't skulk in bushes, looking rare.

When the rain stopped this afternoon I ventured out again. Much, much quieter, but one really nice prize...

Juvenile Cirl Bunting

It is so good to know that Cirls have successfully bred locally once again. So it's not all doom and gloom.

Randomness

The second half of August was mostly viewed through a miserable haze of virus and self-pity, from the sofa. I am very bad at illness...

At last my sorry carcass has rallied somewhat, and last night I deployed the moth trap for the first time in weeks. Our granddaughters were booked in for the day, and they do like a moth. I had quite a few to show them...

A very lovely Frosted Orange is deservedly the centre of attention.

Earlier we had pottered around West Bay for a bit. Naturally I took the bins and camera...

An obvious 'Continental' Cormorant P. c. sinensis on the Brit Estuary.

Following a coffee/ice-cream interlude we headed for the seafront. A quick scan of the sea...

Hello, what's this? A large, dark bird was heading west, very low over the waves. It was several hundred metres distant - too far to ID with certainty - but its flight action hinted at Osprey. The camera might nail it. I rattled off a few shots at maximum 2000mm zoom. Lo and behold...

Well I never! A hefty crop, but still... Osprey heading W off West Bay around 11:30 today.

Eventually it gained a bit of height, but remained well offshore and just kept going.

A very serendipitous encounter, and my first local Osprey in nine years living here.

Last night's mothy highlights...

Listed as 'Nationally Rare', Portland Ribbon Wave is evidently not rare locally. This one is at least number 12 for the garden.

The garden's third Frosted Orange. A proper stunner.

Moth-wise I have struggled a bit with motivation this year. Too many dire traps have hardly inspired me. Even so, the occasional NFG (new for garden) has come my way. This is the most recent, about a month ago...

Poplar Maze-miner Phyllocnistis unipunctella

This tiny creature appears to be pretty scarce in Dorset, with just nine other records on the county's Living Record map. As with many micros, there is a similar species (Kent Maze-miner P. xenia) but I think the selection of shots above show enough to clinch it.

Around the same time, I caught this one...

Phyllonorycter sp.

A striking little micro, and new for the garden, but impossible to ID without dissection. Talking of which, it is possible (though unlikely) that you remember this one...

This is what I used to think was Willow Maze-miner Phyllocnistis saligna.

Multiple records of this 3.5mm speck used to be one of this garden's claims to fame. A Dorset hot-spot, no less. Except it almost certainly is not Willow Maze-miner. A paper published last year concluded that our confidently-identified Willow Maze-miners were actually one or more of FOUR visually identical species. DNA barcoding is responsible for this scenario. Even gen. det. cannot reliably sort them out. Bare minimum, you need a laboratory. Ideally, a Genetic Temple and ordained Taxonomist.

Future Phyllocnistis whatevers will be unceremoniously flicked into touch.