Alba Wag Tales

Well, I was aware that alba wagtails could be tricky, but I really didn't know the half of it...

Here in the UK we are used to our common breeding alba, the Pied Wagtail. Basically a black and white bird, particularly the male. I've always believed that picking out the migrant White Wagtails which pass through in spring is a fairly straightforward affair. With their clean, mid-grey upperparts they usually look quite distinctive to my eye. Come autumn, with loads of young birds around, things get trickier. We still get migrant Whites, but I've always understood them to be quite doable, given good views and some caution. However, my somewhat relaxed attitude to alba wags has been blown out of the water after reading this...

My jolly mission to find myself a winter White Wagtail and thereby add a little spice to the chilly season's birding was tantamount to opening the proverbial can of worms. Confirming a [presumably] rare winter White among a horde of its common cousins is actually not for the faint-hearted.

First of all you need a 'Kodak Grey Scale'. Then you need to compare various bits of your candidate bird to said scale and see what numbers you get. This is hard. The blasted things do not let you get close enough unless they have just that moment died. They run away, and often will fly to the next field. Next you put your results through the 'Adriaens Criteria' listed in the ID paper above. Following that you either stake a claim...or creep quietly away.

The following features need assessment...

• Rump colour (in a specific area of the rump) 
• Colour of mantle/scapulars
• % of blackish colour on mantle/scapulars
• Colour of flanks
• Extent of flank pattern (scores 0-2)
• Pattern of belly
• Head pattern

Then you crank a handle and out pops a result...

Well I did my best with the photos I'd taken, and I still reckon yesterday's bird is a White Wagtail according to the 'Adriaens Criteria'. However, you will not catch me claiming winter White Wagtails in such a carefree fashion again. I have learned a bit of a lesson here, and will be a lot more circumspect in the future. The reality is that the alba complex is, er, complex.

But will I go through this rigmarole again if I spot a likely candidate? You bet.

A Winter Mission Accomplished

Well, at least I think so...

Since picking out what I thought to be a White Wagtail at Colyton WTW a few weeks back, I have been on the lookout for them. I had another candidate at Kilmington WTW more recently, but it was brief and didn't give me the chance of a photo. This morning I tried Kilmington again, and eventually found what I was looking for. I am no alba wagtail expert, but from what I have read, this bird fits the bill...

Virtually unmarked grey crown, and grey rump almost concolourous with the mantle.

Best of all, it wasn't alone. Loads of Pied Wags nearby gave me a few opportunities to photograph them side by side...

It looks so neat and clean beside the Pied Wags. That is certainly how it caught my eye.

Nice rump comparison.

I will admit that finding and photographing (convincingly!) a White Wagtail in mid-winter is a little bit niche, and not going to be on everyone's birding agenda at this time of year. But since getting into tristis mode in December I have found myself more and more attracted to these sewage works locations, because they are teeming with birds. Kilmington is the best I've found, but Colyton is very good too. And with all these alba wags around, I simply had to find a way to get excited about them. Job done...

Also at Kilmington WTW were two Sibe Chiffs and a Firecrest. I am really struggling to get a photo of the Firecrests I see - mostly I get a green blur or birdless vegetation - but today I did at least manage a decent shot of both the tristis. In fact it was checking the photos that told me I'd definitely seen two different birds...

Gorgeous, pallid little Siberian Chiffchaff

Tristis #2, and the reason they like to hang around the sewage works

By the way, as I mentioned at the beginning I am not an alba wagtail expert by any means, and would welcome any feedback either way on this bird. Obviously I think it is a White Wagtail, but if it isn't please tell me. I'd rather learn than be left in blissful ignorance!

The Best Local Twitch Ever!

Sitting here I am accompanied by the sound of gusting hoolie, and the air is full of drizzly murk. Thankfully that's all outside, and I'm not. We seem to have been afflicted by similarly grim conditions on a far-too-regular basis right through the late autumn and winter, though today for some reason it has triggered a memory. A memory of similar weather, but on a summer's day, just over 12 years ago. Like today, I'd been out birding first thing, hoping for some storm-driven goodies, and been disappointed. Like today, I'd returned home and battened down the hatches. The date was August 14th, 2007...

It's late morning and my phone rings. It's Steve...

"There's an Audouin's Gull at Seaton Marshes!"

I'll just pause there for a moment. Assuming you are a birder reading this, and no matter where in the country you are situated, I think I am safe in assuming that receiving such a call from a fellow local birder would trigger a cascade of utter chaos in your body. Like it did in mine. If I had been wired to a device for measuring the many physiological processes happily chuntering away within, there would have been a sudden explosion of spikes. Big, big spikes.

"Really?" I said, somewhat inadequately.

Because that's how I respond to chaos. I also hurtled round the house like a madman, grabbing optics, camera, car keys...and was at the Seaton Marshes car park very rapidly indeed. The only other vehicle there was Steve's. A quick phone call confirmed that he was in the hide and the bird still present. I am not ashamed to admit that I ran. I ran to that hide like the gangly, scope-carrying, middle-aged man I was. The indignities we suffer for a bird...

Two fields to the north, a large flock of gulls was sheltering from the horrible weather. They were at least 500m distant, and between us and them was a load of rank vegetation and a barbed-wire fence. Much of the flock was hidden from view, and the birds themselves at least partially obscured one another. Buried in the melee was an Audouin's Gull. How Steve managed to get me on it I don't know, because the only bits visible at that moment in time were its mantle, its wing tips, and the back of its head. A few seconds later the gulls all shuffled around a bit, and it was completely hidden. We waited. And we waited. Nothing.

Steve had an appointment elsewhere and reluctantly was forced to tear himself away, leaving me alone. Alone with an invisible, stonkingly mega-rare gull, somewhere out there in that seething mass of dross. I felt a heavy responsibility not to lose it, and dared not take my eye from the scope...

And then, after what seemed an age, I realised I could see it. Not all of it. Just a white, beady-eyed head, and a bill like deep-red lipstick. For the next 90 minutes it was cat-and-mouse, as the Audouin's kept vanishing and reappearing. Three times it flew a short distance, shifting position in the flock, and gradually I pieced together a description. And then suddenly it was in virtually full view, preening, for about ten minutes. By now the hide was rammed solid, and it was a challenge getting some digiscoped shots now that there was finally an opportunity. But I did, and here are three of them - screenshots from the BBRC description which still resides on my laptop...

These photos give some idea of the viewing conditions. Compared to some parts of the flock, this lot were remarkably unobscured! Hopefully it's apparent which one is the Audouin's, but in case not, it's the 23 pixels just left of the fence post.

Finally I relinquished the prime spot I had, and exited the hide. Since other birders had begun to arrive I'd been on a bit of guilt trip, knowing that latecomers would be struggling to get any view at all, let alone a good one. The bird was frankly a nightmare to see.

Steve, meanwhile, had returned from his errand and was watching the bird from a house which overlooks the marshes. I'm sure he won't mind me including a photo he took through the window; it's my favourite image of the whole event...

Steve Waite's photo of a massive OOF!! Just imagine the adrenaline rush!

Not long after my departure, the whole flock did likewise, and around 14:00 the Audouin's was lost. By now the area was full of birders twitching the gull, and they spent the afternoon searching far and wide. Two young twitchers were among that eager throng, but despite a reported 'possible sighting' of it flying down the river at 20:00 there had been no sign, and as the evening began to draw in and the light fade, they decided to hunt out the local Tesco for something to eat. In 2007 there was no such thing as a Seaton Tesco, but there was a holiday camp along Harbour Road which had a rather utilitarian, Tesco-like appearance. They spotted the buildings and pulled over to investigate. A few gulls were perched on the roof, so, a quick scan...

I can only imagine the resulting euphoria!!    (Photo: Dan Pointon)

Ironically, the holiday camp was later demolished, and the site is now where the Seaton Tesco lives.

I am fortunate to have been party to some terrific birding moments over the years, but the Seaton Marshes Audouin's Gull is right up there among my favourites. The excitement, the difficulty, and the unexpected little twist at the end...it was brilliant. I know I've related this tale before, but hopefully it's one that bears retelling...

One Lump, or Two?

When birding really got its hooks into me in the early 1980s I'd be on the Staines Res causeway as often as possible, bothering all the regulars in a quest for gen. Gradually I got to find out about the lesser-known spots, and frequently bumped into the same pair of birders at such places: Andrew Moon and Pete Naylor. They were W London fixtures really, and the London Bird Report was peppered with their initials. For example: Caspian Tern, Staines Res (AVM, PN), Little Bunting, Poyle (AVM, PN), Collared Pratincole, Staines Res (AVM, PN), and so on ad infinitum. As a duo, they found an awful lot of good birds. I would sometimes meet up with birding mates and we'd do a few W London sites together, but the vast majority of my birding even back then was solo. I enjoyed some pretty good finds, but not in the same league as AVM and PN, and I can remember wondering if Pete and Andrew did so well as a result of pairing up. And the 'solo versus duo' question interests me still. Which is best?

Actually, that's a really poor question. I mean, best for what, exactly? So, rather than try to tackle such a vague and open question I'll just think out loud for a bit...

As an habitually solo birder, I am always in tune with my companion. When he's up, so am I, and when he's down, I am right there, rooting for him. He wants to linger by this weedy field for ten minutes? Me too! And breeze past this perfectly inviting hide like it doesn't exist? He must be reading my mind...

One reality when birding in company is the need to compromise. Whether in conversation, route, speed, or whatever, it will always be at least a bit different to how you'd go about things alone, and possibly sometimes that will grate. That said, when there is something like a big raft of ducks to go through, a pair of you can each start from opposite ends and halve the time and effort. That's a plus. Hold on though! Suppose the newly-arrived Ring-necked Duck is in the right-hand half, and you started on the left...?

This is a problem. Unfortunately, finding stuff is a prime source of birding jollies for me. Mates finding stuff when you're with them is very nice of course, and if it's rare enough the buzz is so terrific it hardly matters whose eyes arrived first, but generally I want them to be mine.

Is that bad?

There. I'm being honest. I'm just a selfish finds hog. And flying solo is a guaranteed way to find your own birds. Except when you overlook them...

And that's where two pairs of eyes are potentially better than one. While you're being distracted by a fly-by 1cy Yellow-legged Gull candidate, your mate (who hates gulls) can get on with finding the Chestnut-sided Warbler you would have missed. And though you didn't personally find it, you will at least be in on it, as opposed to "... that divot who walked straight past it. I saw him! He was looking at some poxy gull, and me an' my crew found it in the bush right behind him!"

In truth I can think of several occasions when I would have missed really good birds had I been alone. And here is one scenario where many pairs of eyes is usually (and I mean 'usually') an advantage...

A lovely morning at Berry Head, autumn 2010

Anyway, the aching, desperate, pathetic desire to find good birds by myself is not the main reason I prefer birding alone, honestly, but who's going to believe that now...?

So which is best? One lump or two? I guess it's a matter of taste...

Some Chiffs, a Walk, and a Puzzle

This afternoon I visited Puncknowle, a small village inland from West Bexington. Just down the hill lies a little sewage works, a facility with which I've become quite familiar this winter. Obviously this was a Sibe Chiff hunt, and in fact my second attempt at this location. Last time the weather was lousy, and I managed maybe six Chiffs and a few Goldcrests. This time the weather was nice, and I managed maybe six Chiffs and a few Goldcrests, so at least it's being consistent. All the Chiffs were non-tristis. A couple came quite close at one point, and out of curiosity I played some tristis song to them. No reaction whatsoever; they were oblivious. So I tried some collybita song. Wow! They both went bananas, coming closer and wing-quivering like the Kilmington tristis birds did. A short while later a single bird was quite near, so I tried some abietinus song on it (which sounds just like collybita to me) and had the very same response. Interesting...

Anyway, Puncknowle Water Recycling Centre has had its chance and been found wanting, so I doubt I'll bother again this winter. I'm not upset, because access is rubbish.

Puncknowle WRC. I mean, where else would you want to go on a sunny Sunday afternoon?

From Puncknowle it's an easy drive to Cogden, where I parked up and strolled down to the beach, then slowly E towards the West Bexington Mere. There was hardly anyone about. Perfect.

I was barely birding really, it was more a walk with bins and camera. If there had been a Snow Bunting on the beach it would need to have mugged me to get noticed. I was hoping for a few gulls to check out, but it was absolutely dead, and soon the metronomic step after step of shingly trudge became almost hypnotic. Bliss-s-s-s-s...

Before you reach the Bex Mere there are a few fields lying back from the beach. I've had Corn Bunting here a couple of times, so wandered over to check them out. Two or three modest flocks of Linnets went past, and then I came upon something a lot more interesting - a bunch of Yellowhammers. Popping up and down between their feeding spot and adjacent hedge, they were too distant to go through properly with bins. There were at least 60+ birds, and I looked carefully for anything obvious, like male Cirl Bunting, and I think I would have picked out any Corn Buntings too, if they'd been present. I think. Just to be on the safe side I took several maximum-zoom photos of birds on the deck, intending to check them out on the laptop when I got home...

...photos like this one. Lots of lovely Yammers.

On the way back to Cogden I followed the seaward edge of Burton Mere, which is basically a reed bed, and flushed a Snipe, and then a Water Rail - the first I've actually clapped eyes on at Cogden - and listened carefully for Bearded Tits. No joy with the latter, but I know that one local birder has seen birds here on a couple of occasions quite recently. A nice Bullfinch up near the car park...then home.

So, it's been quite fun sifting through the Yellowhammer pics, looking for a nice surprise of some sort. I don't know what I was hoping for really, but I did get this little puzzler...

Hmmmm. That doesn't look like a warm, chestnut rump to me.

The only other species I noticed among  the Yellowhammers were a few Chaffinches and a single Linnet. So what's this? I can't see a likely culprit on any of the other photos. Answers on a postcard to: Mystery Bird Competition, NQS...

Siberian Chiffchaff - A Conclusion

I think I am just about done with my Siberian Chiffchaff reading. It has embraced a wide spectrum of material and is slowly eroding my will to live. However, I would like to impart at least the essence of this journey via NQS, and have decided to begin at the end. So, here is the bottom line...

• If it looks like a tristis, sounds like a tristis, and has the DNA of a tristis, it's a tristis. Sorted.

So just get out there, find yourself a cheery little 'pale and interesting' Chiff, take a description, record its call/song, and pop that dropped feather/fresh poo into an envelope addressed to Prof Martin Collinson at Aberdeen University.

Yeah, right...

Or, you could do what I've done. Read enough bumph to convince yourself that any pale and interesting Chiffies you come across are pretty much guaranteed to be tristis. Forget the DNA test. Enough people have already been down that road to persuade me that birds which look like a tristis will return a DNA test result saying exactly that. If you hear it call, great. A nice, flat, sad 'eeep' or 'iiihp' (at approximately 4.5 kHz, for those of you with perfect pitch) will do nicely. If you don't? Never mind. Almost always, if it looks like one, it will call like one.

Having said that, there are a couple of ways you could get yourself in a pickle. The first is by worrying unduly about the F-word...

Fulvescens
This word crops up everywhere, and generally is used to describe birds which differ in appearance from so-called 'classic' tristis (which show no yellow apart from at wing bend/underwing, and no olive in crown or mantle) by having some limited yellow/olive in their plumage. Like these birds...

Top two: one of the Colyton WTW birds
Bottom two: Chideock WRC bird (RH photo courtesy Richard Phillips)

Note yellowy-green on wing edges, tail, etc. Frequently I have seen 'fulvescens type' used to describe a Sibe Chiff like this. Unfortunately, when bandied about in birder chat the term seems usually to be applied in a disparaging way, inferring that the bird either is not a Sibe Chiff at all, or is some kind of tenth-rate one. However, I have read enough to be very confident that the vast majority (if not all) birds that look like those two above will be absolutely stuffed to the gills with tristis DNA. That's good enough for me. They are tristis. Probably from the W end of the range, but still tristis.

The next two beauties are seemingly not fulvescens type birds...

Bottom left: Kilmington WTW
All others: Colyton WTW bird #2

These two birds are closer to 'classic' tristis than the top two. But, for me, all four are still tristis. The three pics of Colyton WTW bird #2 illustrate how cautious we need to be when assessing colour tones just from photos. They're all slightly different, and prove to me that a description based on just an image is not trustworthy.



The other way you might get your underwear knotted is by worrying unduly about the dreaded...

Contact Zone
This is the vast mixed playground where abietinus and tristis overlap, and little chiffing hybrids are made. Drilling down into the genetic nitty-gritty of birds in this zone is the proverbial can of worms. Even well to the E of this zone, on the West Siberian Plain, some of your pukka tristis are quite likely to carry tiny, tiny bits of abietinus baggage. It's a mess, frankly. And the only way I am able to deal with it from an everyday birding perspective is to leave the lid on.

The obvious question is, surely at least some of our pale and interesting Chiffs must be dodgy hybrid/backcross beasts? The logical answer has to be yes. And what about abietinus? Well, maybe...

But...

For a start, as far as I can discover, very few abietinus Chiffies have been proven by DNA in Great Britain and Ireland. Something like nine in total, as of a couple of years ago. And, importantly, abietinus doesn't appear to look like a Sibe Chiff. As far as mucky hybrid things are concerned, well, it must theoretically be possible that your putative Sibe Chiff will look like one on the outside, but be a genetic smorgasbord on the inside, but the rule seems to be that Sibe Chiff candidates - including so-called 'fulvescens' types - give tristis DNA results when tested.


All the above is admittedly a very simplistic treatment of what is clearly a complex issue. That's deliberate. I do not wish to make this the dullest NQS post ever by quoting figures and citing various 'authorities' left, right and centre. What I want to do - and what I'd love any reader to be able to do - is be confident that the pale and interesting Chiff which has just crossed our path can be indentified without a massive palaver. My own treatment of the little cuties will be as follows...

• Is its plumage somewhere on the spectrum of tristis - including so-called 'fulvescens'? Yes? Have it.

My research into this has convinced me that at least 99% of the time this will be a safe ID, and for a bird that is not mega-rare that's good enough for me. If it calls, great. But I've spent quite a lot of time with five different birds this winter, and I've heard just one of them call, on one occasion, three times. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't need to call.

But wait a minute! My county needs the call, or song, for a tristis to be acceptable.

This is a fair point. Sibe Chiff is no longer a BB rarity, but it is still scarce, and records are now assessed at county/regional level. Speaking personally, my local area's recording policies are not going to affect my own. But perhaps you feel differently, and are not happy to count birds which would be 'unacceptable' to your local records committee. If you won't count a tristis as a tristis unless you hear some sort of vocalisation, fine. Who am I to dictate how you should handle your own records?

As for me though, a sight-only record will be fine.

What I've summarised in this post is my own little tristis odyssey, and the sentence above is where it's taken me. Hope you've enjoyed the ride...


I don't normally do this, but I want to close with just a few words of appreciation for help along the way. Thanks go to Martin Collinson and Mark Lewis, for kindly sending me pdf copies of their respective BB papers; to Mike Langman, Joe Stockwell, and several Twitterati for encouragement of various kinds; to Richard Phillips for the smart photo of the Chideock WRC bird, and finally to Lee Evans for some forthright debate. I know Lee will disagree with my conclusion, but that's okay, he doesn't have to live with my questionable standards.

Thank You

There is no denying it, as someone who writes stuff I do appreciate positive feedback. So, to receive the double honour of two Rambler awards for NQS is very pleasing. Especially as I only managed six posts in the first nine months of 2019! So a big thank-you to Neil Randon for both the awards and his generous words.

It has made me once again ponder the perennial question, what is blogging all about? And the answer is still the same: whatever you want it to be about. And NQS is about providing an outlet for some weird urge I have to write. Would NQS exist if there was no audience potential? No. It is clearly not written just for me. So a big thank-you also to the readers of this blog. Basically, you make it happen.

So, while NQS has a receptive audience, the urge remains. In fits and starts sometimes, but mostly it is there...

And right now the urge is just ridiculous.

1st October 2006. Some bloke in his forties who didn't need specs, when NQS wasn't even a twinkle...