Something From Nothing

This post is simply a description of the Caspian Gull at West Bexington just over three weeks ago. I thought it might be useful as an example of what it is possible to extract from a rubbish video. Instead of fumbling around with a camera I could have spent another couple of minutes with the scope and then from memory tried to write a description in the field notebook which I don't carry these days, desperately trying to shelter the imaginary pages from the foul weather. But I didn't. I got some jumpy footage instead. I know which I prefer, and I can guess which is easier for a county records committee to assess...

2nd-winter Caspian Gull

Date: 26th January, 2020
Location: West Bexington, Dorset
Conditions: Very strong SW, steady rain, air full of fine spray. Dull and overcast.
Distance from bird: Probably 100-150m
Time: Shortly before 14:00. The bird was in view for several minutes, but probably less than ten.
Other observers: None.
Previous experience: As of 26th Jan 2020, 14 previous Caspian Gulls (11x1W, 1x1S/2W, 2x2W), all on the Axe Estuary, Seaton, Devon; all photographed. My first was a 2W in October 2007.

Initially picked up on the West Bex mere with bins (Zeiss Dialyt 10x40 BGAT) it was the clean white head and breast which caught my eye, belonging as they did to an obviously immature bird. I realised it was a candidate for 2w Caspian Gull, and scope views (Nikon ED82A 25-75x zoom) confirmed. After loafing on the mere with other gulls for several minutes, the bird lifted off and flew into the wind, over the beach and away.

Despite awful weather I really wanted some images, and recorded 1'50" of video on my Nikon Coolpix P900. The video is available here. The following stills are taken from that recording, and illustrate various ID features, as highlighted in annotations or text...

Photo 1

Photo 2

Photo 2 shows complete, narrow black tailband, and clean white underparts.

Photo 3

Photo 3 also shows dark secondaries. This, plus the complete, narrow tail band definitely rules out 3rd-winter Herring Gull. While I was watching the bird I couldn't remember exactly what HG of this age would look like, so it was a niggling worry at the time. However, 3W HG would have grey, adult-type secondaries with white trailing edge, and just traces of tail band.

Photo 4

Photo 5

Most 2W Caspian Gulls carry a small mirror in p10, and Photo 5 depicts it clearly. Through the scope it was surprisingly easy to see this feature on the open wing, mainly from below because p9 largely masks p10 from above.

The combination of features shown by this bird rules out Herring Gull. It cannot be HG in 3W plumage for reasons outlined above, and 2W HG would not look as clean white on head, breast, belly and underwing. Neither would it be this advanced in moult on the scapulars (usually few grey feathers, if any) and coverts (again, few grey ones) and its tail would have a wider, less sharply-defined terminal band. According to Gibbins et al (2010) a p10 mirror is shown by 1-5% of 2W HGs (particularly argentatus) so any 2W bird which has this feature is far more likely to be a Casp. In addition, there were no anomolous features which might suggest a hybrid origin.

Finally, it is helpful to compare the photos above with the bird in the following image. This 2W Casp was seen in Torbay in November 2015, and three days later on the Axe Estuary, Seaton. Note similar state of moult in scaps, coverts and tertials, the bill pattern, whiteness of head and underparts, and spotted 'shawl' on nape. It all matches the West Bex bird extremely well.

2W Caspian Gull, November 2015
Top: Torbay, Devon (photo: Mike Langman)
Bottom: Axe Estuary, Devon (photo: Ian McLean)

References: Gibbins et al (2010) - Identification of Caspian Gull Part 1 (BB 2010)


Here endeth the description. I realise this kind of post is a bit..er...'specialist', and if you have reached this paragraph after wading through the rest of it I do hope the above was helpful. If I am jammy enough to find interesting birds in the future I might well do it again.

The Twitching Thing

Back in the day  I never gave much thought to twitching, I just did it. I kept a British list, and vaguely remember breaking 200, then 300, and that it seemed important somehow. I suppose the first birds I ever 'twitched' were incidental goodies which happened to be on hand during visits to Norfolk and the like. You'd bump into birders and they'd ask if you knew about the so-and-so. A negative response inevitably led to them telling you where it was, and it seemed obvious to simply follow up the tip by going to see the bird. Was that twitching? Debatable I guess. But episodes like this gave Mrs NQS and me some memorable birds, like our first Dotterel, Black Guillemot, Spotted Crake and Buff-breasted Sandpiper back in 1981/82.

Soon came friendship with other birders, membership of the telephone 'grapevine', and a mutual desire to see new birds, especially rare ones. Almost every twitch I remember was in company, when the thrill of anticipation becomes infectious and stimulating. If our dawn raid to see some feathery little waif was successful it was dead easy to gee one another into zipping across country to the next tick...

Though I do remember one vintage jaunt which had a different vibe. A November day in 1983, and I was at Staines Res. A routine visit with routine fare. Alone on the causeway I pondered the fact that I was here, seeing 'nothing', while a Pied Wheatear was in North Norfolk. Also a bonus Richard's Pipit. Both potential ticks. So I abandoned Staines and drove straight to Weybourne, arriving some time in the afternoon. I did see both birds, but my lasting impression of that trip is one of anticlimax. It felt as if I'd gone simply out of boredom, and was probably the first time I wondered if twitching was really for me. Certainly it felt very different on my own as opposed to in company.

Subsequent years saw many more twitches, some absolutely bursting with stress and anxiety, some just blah... Then there was phasing, and dusty optics. And finally a move to East Devon in December 2002, which rekindled something...

Although there have been periods of deep phase in the last 18 years, mostly I have managed to be a birder. But a twitcher??

Well, sometimes.

In fact, if you count local patch birds, there's actually been a lot of twitching! Unless I was in the middle of a phasing spell I would always go to see good patch birds if I could. One or two were lifers, many were patch ticks, but lots were neither. Which raises the question, why twitch a bird you don't in some way 'need'? Hopefully that will become clear...

So, American Herring Gull. If you read the relevant NQS post it is impossible to miss the utterly frantic nature of the 38 minutes between my learning about the bird's presence and my seeing it. They were awful! But why? I don't give a monkey's about my British or any other list. I'm not a twitcher per se. So what on earth elicited such emotional havoc?

Was it the bird? Partially, yes. I twice tried for Matt Knott's Otter bird a decade ago. I really like gulls, and for years have wanted to see AHG in the flesh, if only to find out for myself how distinctive it is, or is not. But I can say this with virtual certainty: had it been in Weymouth I would not have gone. I've nothing against Weymouth, but the place doesn't mean anything to me.

So was it the location then? Partially, yes. The Axe patch unquestionably has a place in my throbby little birder's heart. I love that estuary. It has given me so many super moments, particularly through its gulls. When Steve was describing to me exactly where the bird was, I asked 'On the gravelly strip?' 'Yes,' came the reply. I could see it like I was there. Except I wasn't! Aaggh!

So, a combination of the bird and the location. Was that it? Was that the magic mix? Again, partially, yes. But there was one more ingredient...

In my years in Seaton I was always part of a team, and those individuals - those birding friends - are inextricably tied up with my fondness for the Axe patch. As clearly as I could picture the bird on that gravelly strip in front of the tram sheds, I could picture so much more. I could see Steve, in a state of mega-excitement and stress, desperately willing others to hurry up and get there, and the bird to not fly. I could see Ian, Phil, Kev and others rushing around for their optics and keys, also willing the bird to please, please stay put. And you know what? I wanted to be part of that. Solitary creature that I generally am, I nevertheless wanted to share in that excitement, to get stuck in and be involved in this momentous event on my old patch.

One occasionally sees twitchers getting knocked, and twitching itself dismissed as some kind of less worthy activity. I think this is very unfair. In my experience at least, twitching has rarely been about a number, but rather about a bird, a location, and good company. That is the magic mix, and it can truly be enormous fun. Why knock it? If there's one thing all of us need in this world, it's a bit of light relief...

Always Look at Gulls

Badly misjudged the weather today. I can read a forecast like anyone else, but for some reason I thought we were getting just the odd shower until about 2pm. So I optimistically headed over to Seaton for extra helpings of American Herring Gull. Er...

Storm Dennis was going on. And a storm is a storm. The horizontal deluge, brim-full river and thin supply of gulls quickly persuaded me to make do with just the one massive helping I'd enjoyed yesterday, and go home. I spied a few birders huddled in their cars and silently wished them all the best as I slunk away.

There is no doubt that the Lyme Bay American Herring Gull has been a popular bird. A short video I stuck on Twitter has already been viewed in excess of 4,700 times, and yesterday's NQS post has had something like 6x the usual number of readers. And I'm sure some of that popularity is not simply because AHG is rare, but because it's a rare gull. There are a lot of gull fans out there. And yet...

Gulls are a bit Marmite, aren't they? My own interest in them goes right back to early days at Staines Res, and finding my first London Med Gull there in 1982. The species was actually quite rare in London back then, and a major prize. Fired up by this success I habitually scanned any group of gulls I came across, hoping for another. On 28th November that year I was picking through a distant flock on the drained north basin when a slightly odd bird caught my eye. It was smaller than a Herring Gull, very pale grey, and basically had no white tertial crescent. It was London's second Ring-billed Gull, a 2nd-winter bird. It was also only my third 'BB' rarity, and thus far the trickiest ID challenge I'd been faced with, full stop. Being quite 'new' to gulls I was aware of some features to look for on Ring-billed, but had no idea how much you needed in order to clinch the ID, so just noted everything I could see. Thankfully I got enough, but learned later that the description needed two circulations before it was accepted. A close call.

Thirty-eight years later my memory is a bit iffy, but I am fairly sure it was the virtual absence of a white tertial crescent which stopped me in my tracks and made me look again at that bird. But why would I notice such a thing? Because I had been making it a habit to look at gulls. And when you look at hundreds and hundreds of gulls on a regular basis it soon adds up to thousands and thousands. And that steady parade of familiar shapes, colours and patterns gradually becomes a sort of background noise, against which something different leaps out like a shout. That's my theory anyway, but I think it's true.

One of the local birders present yesterday admitted that he would most likely have looked straight through the American Herring Gull without seeing it. I am absolutely sure I would not have. Like Steve describes in his account of the find, it would have yelled at me from across the river. Why? Because over many years I have looked at countless gulls, and eventually you find that even the subtly different birds make you stop and look more carefully. I cannot always say exactly what it was that caught my eye - in fact I doubt that I consciously think about it - but something did. First-winter Caspian Gulls, I do know what it is. It's the white head. Not just white, but white!

A year or two after the Ring-billed Gull I still hadn't seen a London Iceland Gull, but old London Bird Reports told me they sometimes turned up in reservoir gull roosts. That was something I'd never tried, so began climbing in to Wraysbury Res late on a winter's afternoon and sneaking round to check out the roost. On only my first or second try I found a Glaucous Gull. Win! Just the encouragement I needed in order to persevere. Soon I had my Iceland Gull too. Brilliant! It had a dark mark beneath one wing, and turned out to be a bird which was spending its days many miles away in Berkshire, feeding on a tip. That winter I found one or two more Iceland Gulls in the Wraysbury roost, and other birders began to join me. We even had an adult Med Gull one evening. Bonus!

Back then, as now, I got a major buzz from finding a good bird, and looking at gulls was a great way to increase the potential for that happening. I realise that Caspian Gulls and the like are not as obvious as a white-winger, but the field characters are learnable, and with every manky young Herring Gull that you look at, analyse, identify and discard, you are one step closer to something a bit more special. And then one day a bird will stop you in your tracks, and you will realise you've got something different. Maybe a mild panic as you struggle to remember what features to look for. Then a growing realisation that this actually could be a Caspian Gull. And no 'expert' pointed it out. Not only did you find it yourself, but you can even say why it is one. That is a nice feeling.

However, I do realise that not everyone can be bothered with any of this...

I remember once going into the Tower Hide at Black Hole Marsh. Two or three birders were present, and lots of gulls on the estuary in front of the hide. Among them was a virtually white Iceland Gull. No one else had seen it; they basically didn't look at the gulls. When I pointed it out they did look, but it clearly made little impression. Fine. Each to their own I guess.

But boy, are they missing out! Apart from umpteen scarce and rare species to get excited about, there are other things. Like migration. Loads of gulls migrate, and noting the arrival, departure and passing-through of various species adds another facet of interest. And colour-rings. Many gulls are marked with plastic colour-rings which are designed to be read through binoculars or a scope. Recording and reporting them, and getting feedback on an individual bird's history, adds one more facet. And did I mention about the rare and scarce thing? Oh yes, I did. Well, it bears mentioning twice. Because if you don't bother with gulls, then this becomes a possibility:

You won't know what a Pallas's Gull is.

And if that's true, then this becomes a possibility:

Heart-attack material

One of the above could be sitting in the flock right there in front of you, and you would be totally oblivious. And if that's true, what is the point of living????

One day some poor soul is going to be hospitalised as a consequence of finding one of these in Britain. If I am the one destined to suffer this fate, so be it. I am ready.

And if you always look at gulls, you will be ready too.

Beast!

It's 14:17 and there I am, innocently toiling away in Bridport. My phone rings. It's Steve...

'Gav, I've got a candidate American Herring Gull...'

I don't recall much of the 3'16" conversation which ensues. A brief discussion of useful field characters, details of its exact location on the estuary, that kind of thing. It's hard to concentrate. I am a good half-hour drive away. Mercifully I am able to head over immediately.

The stress...oh my life! It is such a long time since I've endured a pukka drop-everything-and-go twitching experience, and I'd forgotten how bad it is. Steve very, very rarely makes a mistake; if he thought it was a very good candidate, it would definitely be one. Torturing me the whole way were memories of times past. Similar phonecalls, similar nail-biting drives, and calamitous dips. Gull-billed Tern...Laughing Gull...the Axe patch has not always been kind to me. And yet, it might stick...it might just stick. Oh ple-e-e-ase let it stick!

Pulling up by the handful of birders already present I was a wreck. Still there? Yes it was. Yes. Yes! YE-E-E-E-SSSSS!!!

Exactly 38 minutes after ringing off from Steve, I took this...

See the black thing in the middle? American Herring Gull!

It was gob-smackingly dark. And big. BIG. And aggressive. And utterly, utterly gorgeous. And here are lots of photos to prove it. First of all, in company with various regular argenteus Herring Gulls. Just cop that massive bulk in comparison! It's a beast! I was struck by how certain poses accentuate the 'collared' effect that separates the paler head from the darker nape and underparts in a similar fashion to Caspian Gull. Note the smooth dark belly and pale-based bill leaning towards Glaucous Gull pattern. It even has a different facial expression to our HGs...

And a few shots highlighting other useful ID features like the strongly barred rump and undertail, the almost wholly dark tail with just a few whitish notches on the outer web of the outer feathers. I didn't manage any decent open wing photos, but don't care...

Big, dark, plain centres to many of the scapulars.

Initially I suspected this was not the same bird which Ian McLean found on West Bexington beach back on 25th January. My memory of the photos told me the scaps were darker, plainer. I was wrong. Here is a comparison of the two birds in a vaguely similar pose...

Despite the almost three-week gap in time, and the differences in resolution, it is easy to pick out similarities in these shots. They are one and the same bird.

In some ways I was encouraged by that fact. If it is still in the general vicinity, it may well appear again, and perhaps establish enough of a routine that a lot more birders might connect with this absolute monster of a gull. I hope so.

Finally, here is a video compilation from this afternoon. Please forgive the occasional background vocalisations. Main commentary by Harry Waite...

When in Doubt, Press 'Record'

So, yesterday I posted a video. It claims to depict a 2nd-winter Caspian Gull on the mere at West Bexington. If you haven't viewed it yet I would politely ask that you do, because I have three questions...

1. Out of ten, how would you rate it quality-wise?
2. From the video alone, are you convinced that its subject genuinely is a Casp?
3. Was exposing my precious camera to the wind, rain and salt spray for 1'50" worth the bother?

Here are my own answers...

1. 1/10, maybe 2/10 at a pinch.
2. Er...
3. Absolutely!

The rest of this post is devoted to explaining my answer to Q3...

While on the Devon Records Committee I was tasked with producing an article on description writing. The premise was simple. Like most (all?) counties Devon has a list of birds considered locally rare, sometimes known as 'description species'. In my day I'm sure we lost some perfectly genuine records because the bird was inadequately described. My brief was to write something that would help anyone reading it to compile a solid, convincing description. It was entitled Tactical Description Writing...or How to Help the Records Committee. I have no idea whether it succeeded in its purpose, but I was surprised to discover that it still resides on the Devon Birds website and can be accessed here. I was even more surprised to note that I wrote it more than ten years ago. Rereading it was also a glimpse of an earlier me, a me who was actively involved in, and encouraged, record submission back then. Hmm. My conscience was duly pricked. Anyway...

Here's the point of all this. On 26th Jan I was fortunate enough to encounter what looked like a scarce gull, a 'description species'. Scope views had convinced me that it may well be a 2nd-winter Caspian Gull. The conditions were appalling: blasting wind, steady rain and the air full of spray. Caspian Gull is tricky. It's one of those birds which you ID not from any single feature, but a combination of several. I basically knew what to look for, so tried to do just that. One feature that did show up well in the field was the little white mirror in p10 (the outer primary) but some others were harder to discern. For example, I could see it had lots of grey, adult-type coverts, but which ones exactly? The underwing appeared to be very white, but was it? My scope and I were getting battered about all over the shop, and so was the bird. I realised that trying for photos would be a waste of time, and didn't fancy exposing my shiny new camera to a rainy salt bath anyway. But what about a quick video? Well, perhaps you've seen it now, and like me wondered whether it was worth the bother?

The answer is yes. Yes it was. Very much. I'm amazed really. It's like someone has just switched the light on, and finally I see the possibilities open to the modern-day birder. Less than two minutes of dire video can turn a 'possible/probable' into a nailed-on 'definite'. Here's how...

My computer gear is basic. A modest Windows 10 laptop, with Picasa 3 for photo editing. I simply uploaded the video from the camera and then accessed it via the standard Windows 10 video player app. By clicking on a little pencil icon ('Edit in Photos') you are then able to go through it frame by frame, and save any useful ones as a still image. And you don't necessarily need sharp images in order to illustrate a particular feature. Nearly all the frames were blurry, but I easily got enough to put together a convincing description. But I'll save that for another post.

Rarely have I been so pleased with an image so utterly awful. Tucked away in this massive smear is an excellent 2nd-winter Casp feature. If you find yourself going 'Ah yes, there it is...' well, gulls are either sucking you in or have got you already. Welcome. 

I realise that some birders have been doing exactly this for years, but for me it is pretty much uncharted territory. Maybe you too? I hope it's not just me...though I do expect there are NQS readers out there going 'Ha! Welcome to the 21st century Gav!' and chuckling a bit...

Getting good photos is great, and I am absolutely delighted with what the Nikon P900 can do, but some tricky birds might demand images which are difficult to capture, like an underwing shot, say, or exposed rump. Pressing the shutter at exactly the right moment is a challenge. This Caspian Gull has opened my eyes to the potential of the video function, because without it I'd have got nothing.

So, in prep and coming soon, description of West Bex Casp...

West Bexington Caspian Gull 26/1/20

Finally learned how to post a satisfactory video on the blog. So, here is one minute and 50 seconds of the 2nd-winter Caspian Gull at West Bexington on Jan 26. It was raining and very blowy, and it shows. If you like the sound of roaring wind, turn the volume right up...

January 2020

Experience tells me that I am not immune from phasing, so in order to mitigate that tendency I plan at least to write a monthly review type post, come what may, just in case there's been nothing else for the previous four weeks. This is the first. I know it's a bit late, but the idea only occurred to me this afternoon...

January 1st. The very flooded entrance to the West Bex Reserve.

January was very kind to me. In no particular order...

White Wagtail. One birding friend put it like this: 'Reckon you dug a big hole for yourself with that one, and just about managed to climb out...'  I think he's not wrong. Winter White Wags are no doubt very scarce at least, maybe properly rare. With hindsight, my ID research before claiming it was a bit sketchy. After the fact someone did kindly put me on to a very definitive paper on the topic, and thankfully the bird survived closer scrutiny. In future I will try to remember to do research first. Here is the little scoundrel...

Looks pretty cool though doesn't it?

Caspian Gulls. Finding three Casps in one calendar month is ridiculous. Two 1st-winters on the Axe, and a 2nd-winter on the West Bexington mere. This crazy hit rate has done wonders for my confidence, and just at the moment I feel almost hard done by when a big gang of gulls produces nothing, forgetting that this is actually the norm! Getting into gulls has added so much to my birding. The learning curve is endless, and if you like a challenge I cannot recommend it highly enough. Without exception I have found that more experienced and knowledgeable gull enthusiasts are happy to help if you seek it, and gracious in their doing so. And the rewards are obvious...

Gulls rock!

7th Jan. Axe Estuary 1st-winter

26th Jan. West Bex 2nd-winter

28th Jan. Axe Estuary. Lumpy 1st-winter

Sibe Chiffs. Prior to this winter I was very unsure how exactly to define a tristis Chiff. So it was deeply satisfying to reach a happy conclusion on this. Essentially I've adopted a 'best-fit' kind of strategy, but I'm conscious that many other birders have likewise embraced the necessity for this. For me the complex reality of Chiff genetics precludes a less pragmatic approach.

The journey was fascinating. There is stacks of literature on the topic, and some of it is perfectly readable. Even the stodgy stuff contained enough gems to warrant wading through it. Having birds respond to song playback was a real thrill. You're giving them the soundtrack of a Siberian forest, and suddenly you appreciate just how far away from home they are...

Kilmington tristis, with typical sewage filter bed background.

Med Gull Invasion. At least 123 Meds on the Axe in a day. Compared to a previous record of 30-odd. It was brilliant to witness this. I wonder if it's the start of something...?

Jan 29th. There are 10 or 11 Med Gulls in this shot alone. Mad.

Jan 30th. Quite a few still around. Beautiful gulls.

Other stuff. There was twitching. Going for Ian McLean's American Herring Gull at West Bex might have been a dip, but it earned me the Bex Caspian Gull and a bonus Yellow-legged Gull. Plus I got to meet a few of Dorset's birders and practise my social skills.

There was a golf ball...

Maxfli Noodle Long & Soft rescued from the estuary mud. Lifer.

There was a frustrating exchange with a bird photographer. Not my finest hour, but unless there is a compelling reason not to I tend to let NQS be a 'warts and all' kind of thing. Actually, frustrating is not the word. Depressing fits better. All the good birding has been a fine antidote though...

There was a lot of solitude. Birding alone, in beautiful surroundings, has been a major feature of the month, and exactly what I was hoping for. No pressure to stick to a defined area, or to keep a list. It has been utterly liberating...

Burton Cliffs, looking E from Freshwater Beach at sunset. When birds don't matter...