The Lapsed Blogger's Dream?

I have just discovered the best possible thing that could happen to a lapsed blogger who re-enters the fray. Such a blogger knows from experience that the well of inspiration is sometimes dry. He knows also the time involved in compiling a new post, and how elusive that time can often be. In addition he can sometimes be really quite lazy. What might such a blogger kill for?

Archive material from an old incarnation of his blog, perhaps? Yes indeed!

I've just been poking around the dusty recesses of my hard drive and found exactly that. I'd forgotten all about them! I can take screenshots and post them as images, and then the truly desperate can click, make big, and read. Result!

The original version of NQS was hatched on 21 June, 2008. Here is the very first post...

Interestingly, the final sentence was way off the mark, and Scilly featured several times, and will again. The first line, however, was absolutely spot on. I'm still wondering! And probably, dear long-suffering readers, so are you...

Believe me, now that I've found this little treasure trove you can be sure I'll be raiding it as the need arises!

A Little Journey

In the late autumn of 2004 I made my first explorative trips up Beer Head, a 10-minute, three mile drive from my then home in Seaton, Devon. Apart from quite a few October Chiffs I didn't see much, but in early November I had a Firecrest and Ring Ouzel in consecutive visits. This was enough to get me making a proper effort in 2005 and it was soon apparent that in the right conditions Beer Head would serve up a nice helping of common migrants. Then in September I jammed a Dotterel, in October had up to eight Ring Ouzels, and finally in November a fly-over Richard's Pipit. It's fair to say that Beer Head was by now 'on the map' and regularly visited by other local birders.

Now for a bit of grippage...

Beer Head goodies were not always as obliging as you would like. In 2006 and 2009 I was fortunate enought to co-find the patch's only Ortolan Buntings. Here's the latter...

Dire pic of course, but do you think I care?!

In April 2007 Stevie found Beer Head's only Mega - an Iberian Chiffchaff. In the next photo you can't really make it out, but Karen is dangling her camera over the fence to record the song, a crucial factor in getting the bird past the BBRC.

The Iberian Chiff was an absolute pig to actually see, as it skulked away in the undercliff scrub. Unlike the next bird which, though technically not Beer Head's rarest bird, was certainly it's most spectacular...

Great Spotted Cuckoo. Again, photo quality not great, but hey-ho, that's hardly the point!

Interestingly the GS Cuckoo turned up in April 2014, by which time I was phasing badly. Happily, my fellow patchers hadn't quite given up on me and I got a text. My word, how grateful I was! What a stunner! It even generated a little twitch...

A clearly chuffed Tim White et al

So there you have it, a tightly edited journey through the development of Beer Head as an integral facet of the diamond that is the Axe/Seaton patch.

As far as I am aware nobody ever gave Beer Head more than a cursory looking-at prior to 2004, so not surprisingly it certainly felt at the time as if I was breaking new ground. That, however, cannot be said about Cogden. The little journey upon which I am about to embark here is on an already broken trail. While Cogden may well be relatively underwatched, it certainly has history! I know that James McCarthy pulled out an Ortolan this year, but I also had a trawl through the Dorset Birds blog and found - over the last five years - Richard's Pipit, Wryneck almost annually, Cirl Bunting, a superb adult Long-tailed Skua on the beach, and assorted other bits and bobs. I was especially encouraged to see that Glaucous, Iceland and Sabine's Gulls have also been recorded and, best of all, not just flying past but, like the skua, lingering on the beach. Gulls! Oh yes!

Cogden - First Impressions

The weather kept me indoors yesterday afternoon and all this morning. Constant rain, dismal grey sogginess. By lunchtime today I was going stir-crazy, so grabbed bins, wellies and waterproof, and headed out...

Following my patchless lament a few days back, both Steve Waite and James McCarthy suggested I try Cogden. Unbeknown to me James has been working the place for a little while now, with encouraging results. To be fair, Cogden was first put to me a few months back by Axe patcher Ian McClean, previously a resident of West Bexington. He knows Cogden well, and made a good case. So why hadn't I bothered with it so far? Well - and I realise this may reflect unfavourably on me - it was because you have to pay to park. When it comes to car parking I am seriously tight, and always have been. I deeply resent having to go and feed coins into a machine before I can walk away from my car and enjoy myself; it somehow makes a trip out so much less carefree. I hate it! Anyway, as far as Cogden is concerned I've fixed the problem. I discovered that Cogden belongs to the National Trust and parking is FREE for members. So I joined. Sixty quid. Yep, I know, I am still basically paying to park. But - and for some inexplicable reason this fact is tremendously important - now I can simply get out of the car and walk away. No feeding a machine; just park and go. Irrational? Ah well...

So I arrive at around 12:15 and set off on a circular route. For the first 20 mins it's just drizzly, but the strong wind means my specs are hazed up in no time, so I take them off. Then it starts tanking down. Soon I am drenched.

Back at the car almost two hours later I can honestly say I thoroughly enjoyed myself, despite the foul weather. The conditions meant that my bins didn't get raised too often, but I still kept a record of birds seen - 14 species. This pathetic tally might just be the beginning of a new patch list.

A few photos to give a flavour of 'Cogden in the Rain'...

Rough, scrubby fields, thick hedgerows - it all looks highly promising

Down by the sea here - not far behind me is Chesil Beach

Looking West along the shingle

Cogden looks brilliant, and appeals for several reasons:

• Loads of gorgeous habbo. Rough, weedy fields; hedgerows and scrub; some little copses, sallow clumps etc.
• Although I imagine it gets pretty busy with dog-walkers and such, it looks a big enough area for that to probably not matter. Also, with basically no houses nearby you have to travel to get there, further minimising (I hope) the number of people around.
• Terrific looking beach backed by reedy 'mere', plus wide vista of sea.
• Complete absence of hides. Yay!

Drawbacks?
I suppose the species potential is a bit constrained by the lack of open water (unless you count Lyme Bay!) and marshland. But I reckon this is amply compensated by the habitat mix it does have. Very much my kind of birding.

I have invested sixty quid in the place, which I suppose effectively means I have just bought a new patch.

Things To Do on a Rainy Day

Rain is right now hammering on the roof of our little conservatory. I can't work in this, and have nothing else that could possibly induce me outdoors. Cycling? Don't be daft. Consequently I have been tempted onto BirdForum. Not to post, you understand (I don't do that any more), just to browse. There is a thread about epic twitching endeavours of yore, which reminded me of this book...

...and in particular, this chapter...

If you've never read it, well, I shan't spoil it for you. But suffice to say it superbly captures the angst and uncertainty that went hand-in-hand with twitching prior to the days of any kind of bird information service, let alone mobile phones/internet etc. It's an inspirational read for the jaded birder.

And that's what I've been seeking. A bit of inspiration. The trouble with birding (or more precisely, with me and birding) is that I cannot escape the realisation that birding is just plain silly. Looked at objectively, all the noting and counting and recording and identifying and listing and photographing and especially the frantic twitching...is simply frivolous. Try reading a long Rare Bird Information thread on BF with the eyes of an innocent. "These people are totally bonkers!" will be your inevitable judgement. And that's because they are!

However, there is an undeniable pleasure to be had from so many aspects of the hobby that I cannot ignore its appeal. So, one or two things that I've been mulling over:

• The 'new patch' issue. A couple of friends have suggested Cogden, between Burton Bradstock and West Bexington. Not exactly virgin territory, but quite underwatched by all accounts. I shall investigate.
• Topics for this blog. I recently discovered that all the photos which appeared in previous incarnations of NQS were available online, so have downloaded them to my laptop. I shall find reasons to resurrect a few. Also, I'd quite like to have a go at refuting the frequently touted view that Scilly has pretty much had it as a destination worthy of the serious birder. Of course, when I say 'serious birder' you'll realise by now that I believe there is no such creature!
• Audience contribution. From my own experience I reckon it's safe to say that commenting on blogs (well, on blogs like this one) is a step too far for the vast majority of punters. I'd be delighted if NQS readers proved otherwise. This blog will never be the diary type, and I am open to suggestions re topics for discussion etc. That said, I am under no illusions, so even without the stimulation of audience participation I'm fairly confident I will still be able to bung some words together periodically...

On Finding Rare Birds

It's been many years since I last found an official BB rarity. Not for want of trying I might add; it simply hasn't happened. I'm a pretty okay birder, I would say, and have a reasonable record when it comes to scarce/locally rare birds, but I'm probably a bit lazy. Other things being equal, someone with a bit more oomph will cover more spots and rack up a correspondingly bigger tally. Of course, time spent in the field is a factor too; during periods of phasing I have unsurprisingly found not much!

Things are different whenever I visit Scilly. For some reason the islands are very good for my work ethic. Perhaps it's the increased level of expectation? I'll generally be out from early and will cover a lot of ground, peering over every wall and from every gateway, scanning, searching. Pleasingly, I fairly often find something good. Short-toed Lark seems to be my speciality - in about eight spring visits I've found six. Usually a good find is rewarded by a little squirt of adrenaline, or sometimes - like when a Grey-cheeked Thrush popped up in front of me on St. Agnes - a big one! However, that is not always the case...

Tuesday, October 13, 2015, and @birdingprof and I are out all day. Most of it is spent on St. Agnes. We spot many good birds, but so far there is no real finding as such. Returning to St. Mary's there is still plenty of birding time left, so I propose a trek up Peninnis. The Prof is, frankly, a bit knackered, and wants to do the track along the top - King Edward's Road. I will have none of it and press firmly for the coastal path skirting the western flank, all of which is bathed in a moment of gorgeous late sunshine. I can just picture the many vagrants gratefully perched up in its warmth. Some way along, a Short-eared Owl has been located on an offshore rock and we spend a bit of time with it, before turning once again to the sloping fields. I stand on a bench to get a good vantage point. A passerine comes bouncing across from the right and, as I get it in the bins, calls. I think my cogs are already on the point of churning out "large pipit" so it is no surprise when "Richard's Pipit!" comes blurting forth. Admittedly the call is rather clipped and quiet compared to what I remember of the "shreeep!" of Richard's. The Prof is on it too and immediately moots the possibility of Blyth's. I am sceptical, partly because of the Prof's tendency towards...er...optimism, but especially because Blyth's Pipit is dead rare and not on any of my lists at all! I don't find lifers much. We quickly locate it in a field of short grass and grill it. It is yonks since I've seen a big pipit on the deck, and the pale lores dictate that it must be Richard's or Blyth's...but which? Well, yes, I suppose it does have a spiky bill, and yes, it does seem to have a shortish tail. But this is all so subjective; I need something a bit more unequivocal. About this time there is an urgent arrival of puffing birders. Amid the clatter of tripods I hear an authoritative "Oh yes, definitely Blyth's!" echoed by several other experts/acolytes. I'm not sure whether I am more disappointed with my failure to nail the ID or my slight resentment of their glib confidence, but I soon find myself leaving them all to it and wandering some distance along the path.

You can probably guess where the Blyth's Pipit is...

With only some 22 accepted records, Blyth's Pipit is one of the rarest birds I have ever found (or, more accurately, co-found) but far from the most satisfying. For me, finding rare birds is still potentially one of the most exciting aspects of the hobby but it isn't always the straightforward thrill it ought to be!

A Slightly Rambling Post

As I type, this post doesn't yet have a title. Why not? Because right now I'm not too sure what it's about. I quite like writing in this fashion, and am often surprised where things go. Anyway, in a short while there'll be a post; I'll read it, go "Ooh, fancy that!" and give it a title...

Yesterday morning I was down at Eypemouth first thing, eager to scour the newly arrived crests for multi-striped fellow travellers. It was still and foggy, the leaves all a-drip with moisture. I listened carefully for the high-pitched contact calls of migrant Goldcrests. Silence. Unfortunately I know 'birdless' when I hear it but persevered for a bit nonetheless. To no avail. Tellingly, the enthusiasm I'd brought with me, anticipating a bit of action, fizzled like a wet match. I'm a very long way from the fairly hardcore birder I once was.

So, home for breakfast.

By lunchtime the fog had lifted and the sun appeared. The afternoon plan was already laid.

Bike.

I'd not been out for a proper ride in over five weeks. This fact, combined with a genetic trait known as 'see cake, eat cake' had conspired to make my trousers shrink. Something needed to be done. At a modest pace I rode to Seaton and back, a round trip of some 44 miles.

Coronation Corner on the Axe Estuary yesterday. In the distance, gulls. Mmmmm...

I've had people say things like "What!! Forty-four miles!!?? Amazing! You must be so fit!" Well, it's really not so amazing. Some time (and a couple of stone) ago I decided I didn't want to go the ever-expanding route of so many middle-aged contemporaries, with all its attendant health issues. Early sorties on the bike were admittedly short and hard, and left me thoroughly jelly-legged, but with time it all gets a great deal easier. I've really enjoyed pootling around the Devon/Dorset/Somerset lanes these last few years, and come to relish the challenge of a steep hill. You're right of course, it is all rather masochistic, and I appreciate that it's not for everyone. But if you have the kind of weakness for baked goods that I do, well, there are consequences.

One other thing. For me, cycling is usually a solitary pursuit. And pedalling is, I suppose, a metronomic activity. So perhaps it's not surprising that I find cycling really good for unwinding, for thinking. For thinking, say, of pithy titles that might fit a slightly rambling post...

In Search of a Patch

I moved to W Dorset in March and became patchless. This didn't matter initially, because my birding juices were all but dried up and had been for some time. But as October (and Scilly) approached I became aware of a familiar urge. I should adopt a patch, I thought. But where?
What about West Bexington, just a 15 minute drive along the coast?
Nope. Already taken.
West Bay then? Less than 10 minutes and the nearest bit of coast.
Nope. I shall say no more, but nope. Do you know West Bay?
Eype? About 10 minutes.
Hmmm. Tight little valley running down to the sea; well vegetated gully near the end. Coast path going both ways. I decided to give it a look.
  

Cliffs W of Eype, looking back to the village in the distance. Also sheep.

A distant Lyme Regis from Harcombe Beacon, which lies about a mile W of Eype

What shall I say? 'Promising' would be my tentative verdict. I like the habbo and have seen some birds, including 3 Wheatears on Oct 9 and a smart Firecrest in the Eypemouth gully three days ago.

But...

Access is a bit fiddly and parking is atrocious. Teeny single-track road down to the sea and annoying, pay-all-year-you-sucker car park at the end.
Also, there are people. Quite a lot of people, even early in the morning. And that's October. I dread to think what August and September are like. And spring.
Plus it wouldn't provide what I would call year-round interest.
Worst of all, there are no gulls.

Tricky...