The Phasing Thing

Although my birding 'career' spans well over three decades (over four if you include junior dabblings) it certainly doesn't add up to that figure, because there has been a lot of phasing in that time. What is phasing? I guess it can be loosely defined as the loss of enthusiasm for an activity to the extent that you no longer really participate in it. I would argue that there are degrees of phasing, in that it might be total (ie. 100% inactive) or maybe not quite that bad (ie. would dust off the optics for a patch Great Spotted Cuckoo, say). If I tallied up my phasing time it would come to a lot of years!

Perhaps phasing is a sign of a character flaw? I've always been slightly in awe of people who seem able to maintain a consistently high level of enthusiasm, year in, year out. How do they do it? Is it that I'm just a fickle, restless creature with a short attention span, ready to flit on to something else the moment the going gets tough? Are the steady, tenacious types somehow more virtuous?

Really, such questions are moot I think. We are simply all different. Not more or less admirable for our various approaches. No, just different.

I'm glad I've come to this conclusion, because it puts me in a much better light! Especially when I consider the myriad activities which I have, over the years, pursued with obsessive enthusiasm...only to phase. And phase badly!

Take angling.

This was me around 25 years ago...

An 8lb+ Barbel from the River Kennet in Berkshire

A 27lb+ Wels Catfish from Tiddenfoot Pit near Leighton Buzzard

In 2011 I accompanied my son Rob on a trip to fish the River Kennet. We spent a few days on stretches of the river I'd last fished in the 1990s, and I caught a massive Barbel that was half as big again as the fish in the photo above, a personal best by a long way. While I enjoyed myself, there was simply no 'buzz' to it all; I was just going through the motions. Unless it's to keep Rob company I doubt I'll ever go again. The Catfish pictured above was rumoured to be the biggest in the lake at the time, and was one of many I caught in the summer of 1990. I had loved every minute! The following summer I returned, fished just one night and instantly realised the magic had gone. I've never been back, and never will.

Yep, when it comes to angling I have seriously phased!

Also golf, and squash, and playing guitar, and drawing, and running, and I could go on...

My enthusiasm for birding may have been a bit moribund at times, but it's always registered at least a faint pulse. At the moment it's jogging along quite nicely...

A Jamboree Bag of Stuff

Had a slow walk around the new patch at lunchtime. In fact I went beyond the patch, and encroached on West Bexington turf. I was drawn there by a very distant gang of gulls on the beach, and when I reached them I found I was level with West Bexington Mere - a seasonal body of shallow water that lies just behind the beach. There were gulls on that too. Thankfully they were all dross, so I'll do my best to henceforth pretend it doesn't exist. There's no legit way to include it in the Cogden patch.

The sea was dead as dead can be, but it did give me Lesser Black-backed Gull for my patch list. Inland I added Raven, Jackdaw, Green Woodpecker and Bullfinch, and my tally now stands at a very modest 35. Slow going, eh? Still, you never know. I walked over a mile of shingle today, and I might easily have found a Snow Bunting or something...

Hmm, this is a good sign. That last sentence is just the kind of platitude with which the patch birder combats serial patch mediocrity. I think I must be settling in for the long haul...

On a different note, the 2W Caspian Gull which I enjoyed on the Axe this Saturday followed closely on the heels of a similarly aged bird at Broadsands in Torbay three days earlier. Were they one and the same? If there are good enough photos you can frequently draw a confident conclusion one way or the other. Well, in this case there are, as you can see from THIS post on Devon Birds, and THIS post on Stevie's blog. I squidged the birds into a collage, and this is what it looks like...

For me it was convincing enough that the bills are absolutely identical in every nuance, but there are helpful plumage details also. The two offset white edges on display among the coverts for example - one greater covert and one median, as marked by the little yellow arrows. A careful look reveals more similarities too, despite the fact that the feathers are lying somewhat differently in each pose. (Photos: Top, Mike Langman; bottom, Ian McLean.)

So, the same bird I reckon. In 2011 we had a December Casp on the Axe which had also been on Portland back in October. This was proven by comparing photos. And another which turned up in Feb 2012 reappeared several weeks later. Again, photos confirmed it was the same individual. I find this very interesting because it suggests that even though Caspian Gull records are on the increase in this part of the country, it is definitely still a rare bird. Observers are surely getting better at picking them out, but it's not necessarily a case of an actual influx of birds...and I wonder how many 'sight only' records might well tie in with other Devon/Dorset birds reported within the same season.

Finally, one of the reasons I do like Twitter is that occasionally something pops up in my feed which gives me a nice lift. In the face of the really dark stuff that's happening right now, this little video cheered me up no end at breakfast time today...

Irresistible. Why?

On Wednesday I started coming down with some virus thing. The havoc it's been wreaking upon my poor little bod has left me rather feeble and I've been cooped up indoors, feeling sorry for myself. Mind you, I have used the downtime constructively and written two entirely serious posts about the decline in Scilly's birding fortunes. That said, I've also been bored stupid; I hate enforced idleness. So, when a text from Steve Waite arrived yesterday, announcing the presence of a 1W Caspian Gull on my old patch, well, I wished I was there...and sulked a bit. When the second text arrived, announcing the arrival of another Caspian Gull, I got really fidgety. Two together on the Axe is unprecedented. Plague or not, I suddenly wanted to go. Needed to go!

What is the mechanism that makes this happen? I am completely at a loss to explain it. For almost two years my birding urges have been basically moribund. This year I didn't bother twitching the Black Hole Marsh Penduline Tits or Baird's Sandpiper, nor a pinned down Black Stork at West Bexington (lifer for me) and yet here I am ready to jump in the car and drive almost 20 miles to my old patch in the very slim hope that two Caspian Gulls might stick around...which they almost never do!

Anyway, I stopped stroking my chin and just got going. Sure enough two Casps staying put was asking a bit much, and the 1W had flown. But the second bird was still there, if somewhat distant...

Dreadful though this photo is, it occurred to me that it might serve a useful purpose. Because while NQS MkII was extant one or two readers did express how challenging they found gull ID, especially Caspian Gull. So, if you wanted to you could actually use this pic to give yourself a little test. Here's how:

Simply imagine someone showing it to you and saying "Is there any gull in this photo that makes you go 'Hmmm, I wonder if that could be a Caspian Gull...'?"

Alright. Have you done that? Go on, give it a go. No trick - the Casp is in there.

So, you've now had a good look. An unhurried, careful look.  Right then, which of the following would be your answer?

(a) Yes, the one in the middle, partially hidden, but standing tall with its gleaming white head, little shawl of dark spotting, and two-toned bill.
(b) No
(c) Yes, all of them
(d) Yes [insert any bird except the one highlighted in (a)]

Ok, well done. Your answer will tell you one of two things...
1. You are tuned in to what a possible Casp looks like.
2. You are not.

If you answered (a), well, great. You have no excuse! Get stuck in...Happy gulling!
If you answered (b), (c) or (d), well, yes, you're dead right - large gulls are stupid boring things that all look exactly alike! But if you ever change your mind, there are books...and ID articles and stuff...

Now, these little beauts are, for me, the first step on the road to Loving the Gull...

Amusingly poor photo of an adult Med Gull yesterday. Picking one of these out from a flock of BHGs is always a pleasure, whether you're a novice gullwatcher or you've seen thousands of them.

That was weird. This post began life as a navel-gazing look at the temperamental nature of my birding engine, and ended up somewhere very else indeed! I had no control over it at all...

The Trouble With Scilly - Part 2

My first visit to the hallowed Isles was in October 1984, when I was 25 years old. Having been a relatively late starter to proper birding many of my contemporaries already had several Scilly autumns under their belts. So those who - like me - were here for the first time, were in the main hardly old enough to shave. Of course there were older birders too. Four of them.* Peter Grant, pretty elderly at about 41, plus David Hunt, Brian Bland and Cliff Waller, all of whom were ancient. Over 50, rumour had it. Notwithstanding this dollop of antiquity, the average age of birders on Scilly in October 1984 was just 23 and 4 months. Fact.

Is it possible for a birder in 2015 to visualise that scenario of more than 30 years ago? Just picture it! Approximately six thousand thrusting young birders crowded onto a few tiny islands, all rampantly eager to list, and list HARD. The presence of this throbbing dynamo of youth had inevitable consequences. Every last inch of birdable habbo got burned up, over and over again. And nothing got missed. Fuelled by an endless supply of proper cream teas, the rampaging horde squeezed out every single decent bird on the islands.

As well as the thoroughness there was another thing. Speed. Sure, birders mostly walked when they were on the hunt, but immediately a good bird was found, there was running. I learned a trick that year from my friend Brendan, a veteran of previous Scilly campaigns. He would spend only half of his time in the field actually searching for birds, because the other half was needed to scan the horizon for people running. We'd be on the Garrison and he'd suddenly go "Quick! People running! Up near Telegraph!" and off we'd go, running to join them. All that energy! It was brilliant! We saw more rare birds than you can possibly imagine!

It's all pretty logical really. That number of eager, youthful birders, well-fuelled and running everywhere, was absolutely bound to result in a lo-o-o-ng list of mega-rare birds every autumn.

Anyway, here's some proof of how it was. The photo was taken in 1987. Nobody over 30 in this pic. Just look at all that dark hair! And, I might add, not a waistline above 34".

St Agnes 1987 - roughly 2% of the birders present that day

Fast forward to the modern day...

Well, it's all rather obvious isn't it. The intervening years have taken their toll. Consider the following factors:

• The recruitment of young birders into the ranks has fallen to about three per annum. Student loans and mobile/Netflix/Spotify etc contracts means they're skint and can't possibly afford Scilly.
• Many of the old guard hammered the cream teas and cake so much that they've either pegged it or grown too vast for travelling.
• Those left are all old, all slow, mostly lazy, and frequently jaded.
• There are new birders entering the fray, but they're all retirees. Most aren't tempted to go to Scilly because it isn't that Zimmer-friendly, and those who do can't get further than Lower Moors.

Clearly there is only one inevitable outcome from all this: fewer birders + far, far less vigour = much less coverage = much less found.

The next photo well illustrates the current situation. St Agnes 2010, and the rarest bird on the islands. Every single birder present that year is there, plus several curious passers-by.

Red-eyed Vireo - 34 birders, average age 72 and 3 months

So there we are. Received wisdom has it that Scilly is a waste of time these days, and the evidence to hand strongly concurs with this view. The place is now a cream tea desert, with just a handful of hunched and geriatric bird spotters shuffling uselessly from bench to bench, barely able to lift their bins.

However, the discerning reader will no doubt realise that all this presents an interesting opportunity. More of which in a later post...

* Actually, five. I forgot about the venerable Mike Rogers, who was also in his dotage by then. So the average age in 1984 is now eight minutes older than stated.

The Trouble With Scilly - Part 1

There was a time when an autumn trip to Scilly occupied a slot on almost every birder's calendar. That is sadly no longer the case. Birders will tell you that it's simply not the same, that the magic has gone. I can sympathise.

After all, Scilly is a walking venue. You won't be driving. Okay, you'll probably do a bit of travelling by boat, but other than that it's 100% footslogging. Although you can rent a bicycle (or an electric buggy!) virtually no one does. And of course, what a birder needs after several miles of wearisome trudging is a decent cream tea, and/or cake. And herein lies the modern-day problem. Years ago you could be virtually anywhere on the islands, totally knackered and on the point of collapse, and there would a be a tearoom within about ten paces. That's why Scilly held something like six thousand birders during the second and third weeks of October - proper sustenance was absolutely guaranteed whenever it was needed. So, what's happened?

Well, the decline began when a couple of tearooms closed their doors at the end of September. It was like a slap in the face for some, and many Scilly regulars could see the writing on the wall. Sure enough, the following autumns saw a decline in birder presence. It was then a vicious circle. Fewer birders = less revenue = less reason to stay open for October. And the quality began to suffer. Scones got smaller, and one or two dodgy establishments even resorted to warming them by microwave. Dreadful. Birder numbers inevitably tumbled. Clotted cream portions shrank. Jam too. Enough was enough. Birders voted with their feet...which leaves us where we are today, with just a scant dozen or so birders across the islands throughout October.

So, what can the pioneering birder who heads for Scilly these days expect in the way of cream tea and cake? A few weeks ago I decided to find out...

There is now only one tearoom on the whole of Scilly. It's called Juliet's Garden. The proprietors have obviously seen the small niche market opportunity that a dozen birders provide and have at least made an effort. But there is a long way to go before birders are going to be attracted back in their former numbers. For example, just take a look at the size of the scones in the photo below. Any decent birder would want at least ten of them. And see how I've only managed a pathetic smear of cream and jam? I knew the cream tea was going to be insufficient, so ordered cake too. It went like this:

Me (having popped indoors to look at the cakes on offer): Hello.
Waitress: Hello, can I help you?
Me: I've just popped indoors to look at the cakes on offer.
Waitress: Oh. Well, we don't have them on display.
Me: You're joking!
Waitress: No, we keep them in the kitchen and just bring a piece out when you order it.
Me: But how do I know what I'm buying?
Waitress: You don't. That's why we keep them in the kitchen, so that you can't see what they look like or how small the portions are. [I'm fairly sure this is what she said]
Me: Okay, well, can you tell me what cakes you've got please.
Waitress: It's all on the menu. Which is on your table outside. I'll take your order when I come out.
Me: But...

Anyway, I gave up, defeated, and eventually ordered some chocolate cake. It was okay but, as you can see, way too small.

Compare that to how things were and, well, you can see the problem.

So, in the spirit of comparison I thought it might be helpful to post a couple of photos from days of yore.

This next one was taken at the now defunct Longstone Heritage Centre a few years ago. This is before the rot really set in. As you can see, nice big scones and heaps of cream and jam...

You're probably thinking 'not bad, but I'm sure they were even better than that in the eighties', and yes, you're dead right. As every birder knows, Scilly was amazing in the eighties. The scones were so massive that most of them couldn't support themselves as they cooked, and fell over a bit. And portions of cream and jam were so generous that you couldn't get it all on, and would end up having to finish it off with a spoon. So here we are then, a proper birder's cream tea from the days when Scilly was undeniably the best...

"Cream tea for one please"       The mid-80's - Scilly's heyday

While things remain as they are I find it hard to envisage birders returning to Scilly in any numbers. After all, what else has the place got to offer?

And I might add, Shetland has upped its game of late. The reason birders never bothered with the place in the past was because you couldn't get a cream tea for love nor money. Pies, yes, loads of them, but not proper food. Well, now look:

Victoria is originally from Devon, and offers a mean cream tea. This place is on Unst. Have you noticed recently how many decent birds are getting reported from Unst? Exactly.

How to Cheat at Blogging

When I discovered my surprise stash of old blog posts the other day, my initial thought was how useful they would be if I was struggling for inspiration, feeling lazy etc. But something not quite kosher just now occurred to me. Would it work if I copied and pasted the contents into a new post? And could I dip into my old blog photos that I recently found online and upload them into that new post as well. The answer to both these questions is yes.

Which has presented me with an ethical dilemma, because now I can make an old post look exactly like a new one. So, I just went through this little thought process:

Should I...

• Announce the fact that it's old stuff in a little foreword?
• Pass it off as completely fresh material?

One could say that the first approach is up-front and honest, and the second thoroughly deceitful. That's true, one could. On the other hand, one could say that the second approach is merely...er...playful, a light-hearted challenge to veteran NQS readers, say? Maybe they'd enjoy trying to spot the 'old' new posts?

Anyway, my mind wandered down this lane for a bit, but then I thought 'Who cares what you do? It's your blog! Say in advance if you want...or don't...just stop agonising over it you idiot!'

In conclusion then, there may be future cheating. Or not. Or both...

There follows a post about my early days of London area birding, originally published 22 Dec 2009. Reading back my old posts now I realise that some of my writing was (is?) much too wordy, so there may be a teeny bit of editing. Here it is then...

Early Days - Birding Badlands

Although there were some earlier dabblings, for me proper birding began around 1981. I finally replaced my colossal ex-army 7x50's with bins that allowed me to stand upright, and bought a scope. One late December day in '81 found me traipsing round Queen Mother Res for Great Northern and Black-throated Divers, Red-necked and Slavonian Grebes and a Velvet Scoter - most of that lot being lifers! Staines Res, Wraysbury GP, Queen Mary Res, Perry Oaks SF - all the W London birding hotspots saw my eager efforts. I also began to put faces to some of the names in my 1980 London Bird Report, and as 1982 and '83 came and went I slowly became part of the scene myself.

But the London Recording Area is much, much bigger than the Staines neighbourhood, and I was getting itchy feet. It was time to dip my toe in East London. I made my first visits to a few sites that I had so far only read about. I no longer have the relevant notebooks, so will have to rely on my memory, but the initial impressions are still extremely vivid.

Rainham Marsh
A bitterly cold day, snow on the ground. Vast and bleak. Skylarks and Corn Buntings illuminated from below as they flew over the snowscape. Bearded Tits popping up and pinging as I waded into the huge beds of Sea Aster - a London tick, along with a couple of Hen Harriers. Yes, the birds were great. But the overriding impression was that this was a seedy and desolate place, and any moment I was going to stumble across a pair of gangland killers hauling a corpse from the boot of a car. I felt strangely vulnerable.

Dagenham Chase
I first came here to look for a Long-eared Owl roost. I didn't find it. Again it was a freezing day, and the first thing I saw as I arrived in the early morning was a Lurcher trotting away across a piece of waste ground with a dead cat hanging from its jaws. Lovely.

West Thurrock
There was a power station here, with a warm water outfall that attracted terns. Also ash lagoons with a wader roost. The first time I went there I noticed I was not alone. Most of my East London birding had so far been notable for the total absence of other people, but not today - there was another guy creeping about on the Stone Ness saltmarsh. He was dressed in camouflage, wearing a black balaclava with two eye holes, and carrying a rifle. I gave him a very wide berth...

Dartford Marsh
Another vast and empty place. Once again my first visit was in winter. I remember seeing a Hen Harrier, and again failing to find a Long-eared Owl roost. Desolate and uninviting. It probably didn't help that my pioneering visits were midweek and therefore unaccompanied.

The Thames in E London was wide, industrialised, thick and smelly. The birding hotspots were bleak, with an air of dismal neglect and vague threat. But the birding was fantastic! Dartford Marsh has given me Sociable Plover and Purple Heron; Dagenham Chase a stunning male Pine Bunting, and Long-eared Owls many times; West Thurrock a Sabine's Gull, plus Roseate and White-winged Black Terns. And here's a notebook page from a visit to Rainham:

Almost exactly one year later I went to Rainham again, this time for a first-summer male Red-footed Falcon. Of course, Rainham Marsh is now a premier RSPB reserve, and I think it's fairly safe to say that it is (and probably always was) the best birding site in London.

In comparison to these dodgy venues, W London was positively genteel!

Baby Steps

Cogden is a big place. Sussing it out is therefore going to take time...and patience. I'm sort of hoping that late autumn/winter is actually a good season to begin the process of finding my way around, as I should be able to cover a fair bit of ground without fretting that I'm overlooking some migrant hotspot and missing out big time. I've managed a few short visits since the first...

View from the car park.

Seawatching facilities.

Talking of seawatching...

Staring at the sea in the hope of passing birds is not everyone's cup of tea, but it is mine. Seaton had some decent seawatching spots, with pretty good shelter if needed. What Cogden does have is sea. Loads of it. And I'm sure it'll be worth watching, being probably less than 15 miles E of Seaton on the SW facing side of Lyme Bay. Trouble is, shelter looks hard to come by. Patch pedantry dictates that birds be seen on (or from) the patch, so at the moment I can't see any alternative to hunching miserably in the lee of a hedge or something. And as I get older I find myself less tolerant of discomfort, so my seabird list may be slow to get going...

That said, I got down there for a walk along the beach this afternoon and did spot some seabirds. It was blowing a mild hoolie and my specs kept salting up, but there were birds out there. Not many, sure, but I spied a Gannet, maybe two, and a drake Common Scoter flew W - both new for my patch list. And best of all there were gulls! Admittedly a very thin sprinkling, but amongst the dross were four little beauties - Med Gulls, three adults and a 1st-winter, all of which slowly moved W. Here is grainy proof...

Adult Med Gull - a worthy species for my first Cogden birdy pic

My patch list now sits at 31, and I suppose Med Gull, Common Scoter, Cetti's Warbler, Sparrowhawk and Water Rail might be the highlights so far. That's in four visits! As the title says: baby steps!