A Dismal Sunday Afternoon

It's Sunday afternoon. Instead of being out there birding I am tapping at the keyboard while rain once again batters the windows. At first light I was slotted neatly into my seawatching chair at Cogden, and by 08:00 already bored stiff. Two Common Scoters, plus a handful of auks and Gannets, was pretty dire for an hour. Sure, it might have livened up later, but I somehow doubted it would. I am becoming increasingly intolerant of mega-slow seawatches. A change of scenery then...

Water Lane Fish Farm, inland from Burton Bradstock, has recently hosted a gorgeous Grey Phalarope. Might it still be present? I went to look. It was. Because this bird is such a gem, and so tame, a few more photos were inevitable. Cue Grey Phalarope overload...

Feeding happily in its usual spot at 08:20

It came right over to say hello...

Breadth of the bill nicely evident in this one.

Notice the blackish, pointy, as-yet-unmoulted juvenile rear scapulars

I spent a few minutes with the phalarope, then walked further along the path to view other ponds. Being a fish farm you would imagine the place must be a bit of a magnet for birds, and probably it is. I never see Green Sandpipers locally, so it was good to encounter a couple of them here...

One of two Green Sandpipers. A bit distant, and that excessive eye ring is photographic effect; it had a wholly white rump, and no hint of Solitary-ness.

Another obvious fish farm bird is Cormorant. They keep their distance (understandably) and I couldn't really see enough detail with bins, but wondered if they might include the so-called 'continental' subspecies, sinensis. So I took a photo...

'Continental' Cormorant    Phalacrocorax carbo sinensis

Judged purely on the angle formed by the rear of the gular patch and the gape, this is a pretty obvious sinensis. When I lived in Devon, sinensis was a county rarity requiring a description. I don't know what the Dorset status is, but the latest Dorset Bird Report (2018) doesn't even mention sinensis, and The Birds of Dorset (2004) makes only passing reference to it. But I'll bet there are loads about. Let's face it, who looks closely at Cormorants? I suppose we ought to have Double-crested Cormorant on the radar though...

So, is our local fish farm a welcoming environment for water birds? Not really. As this Heron discovered to its cost...

The grim reality which frequently results when 'nice' habitat is also a commercial enterprise.

Yes, the habitat might be attractive to birds, but it is hardly welcoming, and I can think of countless more pleasant places to go birding.

West Bexington for example. It was dead blowy when I visited yesterday afternoon, so I mooched along the beach and sat down on the shingle overlooking the mere. With all the recent rain, this seasonal water body is filling nicely and becoming attractive to passing gulls...

Gulls were dropping in, staying a few minutes, and passing on.

At a range of 200+ yards the gulls seemed unconcerned by my presence, but were only lingering briefly even so. Just long enough for a quick wash and preen, then away. Nothing unusual yesterday, but at one point there were 10 Med Gulls, which are always a treat.

Three Med Gulls in this photo.

I realise that an obsession with gulls might be incomprehensible to some, and recently I've been giving thought to what the attraction is for me. And I think I now know. It's nothing complicated, and there are clues scattered throughout this blog. Just looking at the last 12 months, what are some of the birdy subjects which have caught my attention? Getting to grips with Siberian Chiffchaffs; trying to identify a wintering White Wagtail; having a go at nocmig for the first time. Also, the kind of birding I particularly enjoy: mostly plodding around relatively underwatched localities trying to turn up my own birds, rather than chasing other birders' birds. None of those things is the easy option; each is a challenge. And there it is. While I do enjoy most birding, I most enjoy birding that presents me with a challenge.

So gulls have an obvious attraction. They are difficult. Every time I get involved with a big gang of gulls it is a challenge for me. There will often be birds I struggle to identify. The incredible variation of size, shape and plumage within some species is just mind-boggling. Factor in the genetic uncertainties produced by interbreeding and it is all a bit of a minefield for the unwary.

Gulls are also humbling. If you cannot accept the possibility of making ID errors, forget gulls. If you worry about 'looking bad' among your peers, forget gulls. If you think you have a reputation for infallibility, forget gulls!

On the other hand, if you have a little humility, are keen to learn new stuff, and enjoy the satisfaction and fulfillment which comes with a hurdle successfully cleared, gulls are just the thing...

On Friday I spent some time on the Axe Estuary. Almost straight away I was delighted to come across this obvious adult Yellow-legged Gull...

Not as close as I would have liked, but a lovely, bog standard adult Yellow-legged Gull

It was a perfect example of the taxon. Hefty, noticeably darker mantled than nearby Herring Gulls, with bright yellow legs and bill, a red eye-ring (not orange as in HG) and a clean, white head. As Yellow-legged Gulls go, this is about as easy as they get. However, a bit later there was this bird on the upper estuary...

The one with its head turned towards the camera, and...er...yellow legs

And here it is much closer, in company with a Herring Gull

So, is this bird a Yellow-legged Gull too? As mentioned in relation to the first individual, typically they are big, white-headed lumps. But in the lower photo our bird is quite obviously smaller than the Herring Gull. It also has quite a streaked head. Its legs and bill don't look quite as yellow as those of the first bird. There are hybrid gulls (eg, Herring x Lesser Black-backed) which can superficially resemble Yellow-legged Gull, and indeed YLG itself will sometimes interbreed with other LWHG (large white-headed gull) taxa. So is this bird the result of such promiscuity? I would say not. I am happy that this is a perfectly normal Yellow-legged Gull, but I had to study it pretty carefully to be sure. We don't see that many YLGs in East Devon/West Dorset, hence the caution. So yes, this particular bird was a challenge for me, but in the end I reached a satisfactory conclusion and learned a few things along the way. At the risk of boring NQS readers rigid I may well outline the ID process in a future post...

Anyway, it's now 16:41 and almost dark. What a dismal afternoon. Still, writing this post has been fun, and for once probably better than actual birding would have been!

Garden Listing Tales

I was sitting in our garden cabin this morning, chatting on the phone and peering idly out of the window. Between the cabin door and our little conservatory is about four yards of gravel and slabs. A small, dark bird hopped into view and flicked up to nab a fly off the conservatory door, in the process fanning a rich, red tail. A Black Redstart! It turned out there were at least two birds, at one point both together on the roof of a nearby building...

This one on the ridge...

...and this one by the gutter

This was the first one I saw, photographed on a property just behind ours.

 

Black Redstart is a new bird for the garden, and number 63 on my #BWKM0 list, the first addition for months. I didn't get out birding at all today, but I wonder if there were a few more of these lovely little characters out there among the local rooftops?

The appearance of that first one, on the modest span of ground between the cabin and conservatory, gives me the opportunity to recount the story of another nice garden bird...

It was November, in 2016 I think, though I never did note the exact date. I was in the cabin very early, catching up on some paperwork. Just before dawn there was a torrential downpour. When it finally relented I stepped outside, intent on brewing a coffee. Pausing briefly I looked around. The air was clean and fresh in the weak light, the ground still very wet. It is just four or five strides to the conservatory. As I took the final step, a bird exploded off the gravel, just inches from the conservatory, and shot away over the neighbouring gardens, climbing rapidly. It was a Jack Snipe! Presumably a migrant downed by the heavy rain, it is undoubtedly one of the most ludicrous garden birds I am ever likely to see.

The astute reader will probably have wondered how I could be so sure it wasn't just a Common Snipe. No binoculars, obviously, and the light's not too great at that time in the morning is it? And of course they are right to be dubious. So. Here's why it's a Jack Snipe, now and forever...

Although my views were pretty grim, there was no doubting it was a Snipe sp. Jack Snipe are considerably outnumbered by Common Snipe, so I know where the statistical probability lies. However, I almost trod on it. It didn't call. It gave the impression of a smallish bird. To me that suggests Jack Snipe. My garden is very small, three miles inland, and nowhere near any marshy, Snipe-ish habbo. The likelihood of ever getting another is very slightly greater than zero. If you think I'm going to have 'Unidentified Snipe sp' on my garden list, well, think again! My gut said Jack Snipe, and I went with it. And as the saying goes, it's my list and I'll count what I want! Oh, and did I mention how it was quite clearly looking for a reedy spot to quickly drop back into? No...?

No Gulls

Yesterday we had some proper wet and windy stuff. It was horrible. I mentally weighed the options. Seawatching? Nah. In late autumn it never seems to deliver in these conditions. A hearty slog around Cogden or the Bexingtons? Nah. I didn't fancy wiping salt off my specs all afternoon. A trip to the Axe for gulls? Now we're talking. A late autumn hoolie can do wonders for the Axe Estuary gull demographic, pulling in all sorts of quality. Yellow-legged Gull is virtually guaranteed, and Caspian Gull a real possibility. Twice, I think, Steve has nailed two Casps in a day in such conditions.

So yes, I went to Seaton and had a great time. And I thought I would be forced to test the patient NQS readership with yet another gull post today. But no, not yet...

On Thursday morning I popped over to West Bexington to help look for a pale chat which had been spotted late the previous afternoon in wet and gloomy conditions. It turned out to be a Whinchat, but walking back through the village I chanced upon this beauty...

Male Black Redstart. A very classy looker.

Just lovely...

And here's the Whinchat. Getting late for them now...

Probably the last Whinchat I'll see this year.

Friday afternoon I managed a quick walk to East Bexington. Back in July I heard a Cetti's Warbler calling there. Since then I've heard it a few times, and once or twice a burst of song too. On Friday I finally saw it...

Cetti's Warbler, accidentally out in the open for a second.

At West Bex and Cogden, where Cetti's are quite common, they are ever so skulky and I've never managed a photo of one. So I was quite pleased to get this, and headed back along the Burton Road with a jaunty step. A flock of gulls over the surf made me pause to check them, and they were all Med Gulls - 30 birds! Could the afternoon get any better? Yes it could. I realised they were loitering a bit, which made me scan the sea below them...

You'll have to take my word for it, but that's a Grey Seal (notsrils on the right!)

Grey Seal is a rare sight in this part of Lyme Bay. I haven't kept a record, but I would be surprised if I've seen them locally on more than about ten occasions in the umpteen years I've lived here. This one was on a mission, heading W with purpose, and surfacing only occasionally. I decided to hurry along to get ahead of it, and then try for some more photos. I'll cut a long story short. I never did get ahead of it, and eventually gave up. Clearly they can shift a bit.

And so to yesterday, and the Axe Estuary gulls. Oh, that's right, I said another time...

Today then. Yesterday a local birder discovered two Grey Phalaropes at a nearby fish farm. One was still present this morning, and a couple of birding friends sent enticing photos. I was free after lunch and decided to give it a try. To be honest I didn't much fancy a crowd, but I needn't have worried. There was one photographer present when I arrived, and no one else turned up during my visit. We introduced ourselves and simply enjoyed the bird...

Er, confiding. At times it vanished beneath the overhanging grass on the near bank!

The light was absolutely perfect, and the Nikon did itself proud...

And a habitat context shot...

What a little stunner! I've seen quite a few Grey Phalaropes over the years, and some really close like this, but for some reason today's bird felt special. A really confiding bird betrays a certain innocence, a level of trust that it really shouldn't have. So many birds are notoriously wary, belting away over the horizon at the mere hint of a human at 400 yards. Sensible, especially when you ponder for a moment the way mankind has raped and pillaged the natural world, and shot, trapped, bludgeoned and butchered its feathered inhabitants. But not this phalarope. I found the experience of being so close to this unconcerned bird oddly touching today. I don't know why. I'm probably going soft...

And finally, a short vid...

You Never Know...

It's frustrating when stuff happens quicker than you can blog it. I end up with a backlog, and then a post like this...

I'll start with nocmig. Autumn has been a challenge. I got to the end of September with very little to show for it. I began to not bother, to miss nights. I drew the conclusion that while my home might be situated in a favourable spot to record spring goodies, it was in a late-season dead zone. However, now that it is thrush time I am getting a few. Up to about 35 Redwing calls in a night, a handful of Song Thrush and a couple of Blackbirds. Saturday night was typical, with about 15 Redwings and 5 Song Thrushes, plus a nice example of a 'chack-chack' type call which I assumed was my first Fieldfare. Nice, thought I, as I played it a few times and compared the sonogram with those in my new book, 'Identifier Les Oiseaux Migrateurs Par Le Son' by Stanislas Wroza. I also compared it with recordings on Xeno Canto. I asked for opinions on the nocmig WhatsApp group. I made a little Spectrovid...

My suspicion was aroused by its sharp harshness, and sure enough, it's a blinkin' Ring Ouzel! Living where I do, it just seems to me incongruous that a Ring Ouzel would choose to fly over my neighbourhood at 22:04 on Saturday, 17th October, but it did. Just like all those spring-time oddities did. Nocmig is full of surprises...

Lately I've been in the Seaton area quite a lot. Sometimes that has its drawbacks. Like this morning, when Mike called from West Bex to tell me that a Glossy Ibis was over my head at Cogden. Mmm, yes. I missed that one. Apparently only the second West Bex record. I carefully checked the nicely flooded Axe Estuary and adjacent marshes in case it had kept going, but two 2nd-winter Med Gulls, a Barwit and a Greenshank do not a Glossy Ibis make. Annoyingly I had a good candidate for 1st-winter Caspian Gull head downriver and away without stopping, but it was too distant for more than a shrug and a question mark.

Other times, being in the Seaton area is dead handy. Like yesterday evening, when I was able to take a nice photo to confirm beyond doubt that the Axe Pink-footed Goose is the exact same one I recently had fly past me at East Bexington...

Same bird. No question.

Work has taken a toll on my morning walks, but I managed a couple of afternoon outings at the weekend. Sunday was notable. Before I got to Cogden I'd already hatched a plan. I was going to count Robins. Work every hedgerow that I reasonably could, and count Robins. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I doubt that I covered 50% of the available habitat by the time I needed to leave, and my tally was 30 Robins. Nice. I'm sure you could comfortably double that, or more, for a true picture of the number present at Cogden that day. More surprising was a count of 27 Chiffchaffs, loads more than I would have anticipated. Other stuff included a Merlin bombing over, single Goldcrest and Blackcap, 4 Green Woodpeckers and 2 Jays. Late in the afternoon I noticed a party of Swallows overhead and cast my eyes skywards for a while. The 'party' was actually hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds, probably 1000+ Swallows feeding across a wide area below the ridge. Quite a sight on a mid-October day. Sunday's other highlight was the flock of Golden Plovers which kept popping into view above the coast road. I counted them by taking a photo...

212 Golden Plovers

They were evidently trying to settle somewhere on the farmland north of the coast road. I don't know whether they managed to do so, but judging by the frequent appearance during the afternoon of some or all of the flock, perhaps not very happily.

Itchy plover feet...

 

There were plenty of other birds on offer, as illustrated here...

Quite a number of Meadow Pipits flitting around. The Red-throated awaits.

Front to back: Meadow Pipit, Green Woodpecker, Stonechat.

Blackbird. Doubtless a migrant, judging by its lame attempt to look rare.

One of probably 1000+. This is my first published Swallow-in-flight photo, and is quite close to being in focus.

 

You can probably gather from this that I had a brilliant time on Sunday afternoon. Nothing rare, or even scarce. Just good, solid, birding fun. If you read this blog on a regular basis, you will know I am based on the West Dorset coast. You will realise too that West Dorset birders do not habitually work their local hedgerows in October and have Red-flanked Bluetails hop out in front of them. Or Pallas' Warblers, or Dusky Warblers, or anything much at all really.

But you never know...

Out of Sync

During this morning's second cup of coffee I opened up Twitter and discovered that it had finally happened. A Rufous Bush Chat went and burst its own mythical bubble by turning up in Norfolk. The last UK occurence was the very day that Sandra and I got married: August 9th, 1980. Forty years, two months and eight days ago. Birding wasn't my main hobby back then, so I didn't get the gen until I read about Richard Millington's August 10th dip in A Twitcher's Diary, some 18 months later. As the years clocked up, and Rufous Bush Chats resolutely avoided British soil, it became one of my most wanted. So what did I do about this morning's revelation?

Tucked it away for blog post material later.

It's at times like this that I most feel completely out of sync with so many of my fellow birders. And indeed, with my former self. If my desire to rush off to Norfolk and see this bird could have been measured on a gauge, the needle would not have flickered. I see all the photos and read the euphoric tweets of triumph, and feel...nothing. Well, not nothing, I suppose, but certainly not envy, regret, longing or lust. Rather I feel utterly disconnected from it all. Like the last place I would want to be right now was Stiffkey in Norfolk...

At lunchtime yesterday I spent an hour or two poking around Seatown, a coastal hamlet between West Bay and Charmouth. I was hoping for Yellow-browed Warbler. I got Goldcrest, 2 Coal Tits, 2 Siskins, 2 Redpolls feeding in a silver birch, and 7 Clouded Yellows in a single field. There were quite a few folk out walking in the sunshine, but they were easy to avoid. There were no birders at all.

Seatown. Basically a few houses, a caravan site, a pub and a car park.

This afternoon I ventured out to West and East Bexington again. Just 3 Chiffs, a Blackcap, a Clouded Yellow, and this...

My first Wheatear in a while.

Again, a few out walking, lots of anglers on the beach, but no birders. There is quite a long stretch of rough habitat between the beach and coast path, and I thought it unlikely that anyone had explored it this afternoon. I flushed the Wheatear from it, but fancy it for a Snow Bunting or something.

Beach on the left, coast path on the right, quiet zone in the middle. Containing who knows what? Today, a Wheatear and some Meadow Pipits.

In the main I have little interest in chasing someone else's birds. That's not to say I won't, but I rarely get anything meaningful from doing so. In fact, frequently it's been a massive anti-climax. I would much, much rather find my own. That's where I get my birding jollies. And it doesn't have to be something scarce or rare. Context is everything. I am realistic enough to appreciate that my chances of finding a local Pallas' Warbler or Red-flanked Bluetail are super slim, but a Yellow-browed Warbler is on the cards. And if that happens it will seriously make my day, because I have never found a local YBW while birding! Yesterday I was chuffed at the perched Redpolls (a rare local sight for me) and today the Wheatear was enough to put a big smile on my face.

In the last two days I've put in a few hours for what might seem scant reward. Many of today's Rufous Bush Chat twitchers might think I'm daft. That's fine. I'm happy with these few miles of beautiful coast, and the amazingly low birder density. I don't get upset or frustrated when it's quiet. If the birding is slow, there is always a lovely walk to enjoy. And as we all know, it only takes one bird...

In the Absence of Bluetails

Right now a migra-blitz is blasting the east coast and peppering much of this land with highly desirable feathered shrapnel. With all that Sibe vibe I feel rather cheap, offering just a couple of gulls on here. Not even particularly exciting ones either (and yes, that is actually possible) merely interesting.

On Tuesday there was a very big lunchtime skive, involving me and a whole load of Axe Estuary gulls. First up, a striking 1st-winter Yellow-legged Gull. Due to amazing ineptitude it took three or four attempts to find the thing with my camera, and I hadn't even managed to focus when it promptly upped and went. I got this...

Note the many diagnostic features...

I don't see a lot of 1st-winters, so was disappointed to watch it fly away towards the coast. Still, glancing upriver I could see plenty of potential loafing about, so made my way round to the Tower Hide on Black Hole Marsh. It commands a grand view of the upper estuary, and on Tuesday, of a lot of gulls. Fairly quickly I found another one which made me get the camera out. Momentarily I thought it was an adult (or near-adult) Yellow-legged Gull. The upperparts colour looked bang on, and it even had reasonably bright yellow legs. The bill was a bit dull, with some blackish marks, but that's okay on a bird which isn't quite a full adult. However, I was very unhappy with the extent of streaking on the head; typically they are unmarked white, or nearly so. Anyway, I took loads of photos, and in my mind dismissed it as a probable hybrid.

Back home I got out my Spotters Guide to Seagulls, and delved deeply among the Yellow-legged Gull pages of the Gull Research Organisation website. And now I am thinking it might actually be a YLG after all...

Primary moult-wise it fits mid-October YLG perfectly. P8 is fully grown, P9 is roughly same length as P8, and P10 is coming along nicely (that big white mirror visible on the furthest wing is on P10)

It certainly has the 'look'. Butch and beefy, big-billed. Not a huge bird though.

The outer primary coverts are visible here, and complete absence of black means that it is basically an adult bird. The innermost primary with black on it is P5. So wing is currently only as long as P8, and has a few mm to grow yet.

Those legs and feet are really quite yellow. The bill suggests a bit of immaturity though. Typical full-adult bill is bright, buttery yellow with a big red blob extending onto upper mandible too.

Without all the head streaking I wouldn't have thought twice, but maybe I'm being over-cautious. Anyway, dear NQS reader, until Dorset translocates to the east coast, this is what you get in October. In fact, this is what you get until mid-March or later. Gulls.

Fetching the Ball Back

If you read Friday's post about the dropped ball, it was probably obvious I was a bit miffed. Pink-footed Goose is rare in Dorset. How rare? West Bexington & Cogden boasts a list of some 273 species, and has been worked for decades. When Alan Barrett let me know that Pink-footed Goose would have been a new bird for that patch, it put things in perspective. So. Since Friday I have been hard at work trying to put together a rescue package...

Size and plumage-wise, PFG is unique among the grey geese. So despite their low quality, my side-by-side photos with Canada Geese are actually very useful. I'm not going to post them all again, but here is a standard NQS annotated collage with some pertinent features highlighted...

In one of the notes I mention the Seaton Pink-foot. Phil Abbott kindly sent me a couple of flight shots so that I could confirm one or two things...

The Seaton Pink-footed Goose © Phil Abbott

In a nutshell, the only species which fits the photos is Pink-footed Goose. All the others would in some way be found wanting. So I'm having it. It flew over the coastguard cottages into West Bex airspace, so if it passes muster with the Dorset Records Committee I hope the West Bexington & Cogden patch list can have it too.

Not the ideal way to identify a bird, but I do quite enjoy this kind of photographic analysis, so am delighted that it has paid off. Also, once again I am reminded why a camera has become a vital part of my birding kit.

Incidentally, talking of photo-analysis, today I discovered that the lovely 3rd-winter Yellow-legged Gull I saw on Saturday afternoon (previous post) was also seen on October 1st. There are photos on Twitter, and a quick bit of sleuthing proved it to be the same bird. I shan't publish them on here (they're not mine, and I don't have permission) but it is interesting to see how much the outermost primary (p10) has grown in nine days.

No. Really, it is...