Nocmig Mega and Many Birds

Well. What a day. Burton Bradstock seawatch, followed by nocmig analysis, followed by afternoon walk at West Bex, followed by Cogden seawatch. I would love to write loads, but need some sleep before another early alarm call, so...

I go through a nocmig spectrogram in 28-second bites. Mostly I skip through them extremely quickly, because 99% carry nothing of interest. I'd got to almost midnight, then this...

Well, I didn't know what it was going to be...other than loud!

It was this...

Yes, that's a very close flock of Dunlin. Easily the loudest I've recorded, and my first this year. So you can guess I was already buzzing from that, but another hour's-worth of recording produced the following bunch of squiggles, and after playing it just once I was on cloud nine!

As it appeared on the screen...

...and stretched out a bit.

I'll tell you now: it's a Stone-curlew! Exactly one year, one day, 23 hours and 41 minutes after my gob-smacking first one last spring, another of these wonderful creatures flies over my nocmig tackle and gives vent to some strangled yodelling! You couldn't make it up!

Unless some prankster knows where I live, of course...

Anyway, what a coincidence, eh? Especially when you factor in Thursday's Cogden bird, which incidentally occured on exactly the same date as my 2020 nocmig bird: April 22nd!

This is what it sounds like...

Already I have used way too many exclamation marks in this post, so I'll try to keep the rest of it measured and calm. Suffice to say that the birding has been supremely acceptable, with many so-called 'common' migrants to get excited about. Here are several pics...

Whimbrel from this morning's seawatch

Almost every Gannet I've seen recently has been a white one, so this brown job got papped 'just in case'. I do not have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the world's gannets and boobies and whatnot, and these days you simply never know what might fly past, do you?

One of a pair of gorgeous Yellow Wagtails at Bex. My first this year.

Small Copper. Another 'first this year'.

Lesser Whitethroat. One of two. Again, my first this year.

Wheatear. Not my first this year.

In the background, a couple of orchids. There is no public access, but I'll bet they're Green-winged.

Mmmmmmm...

A pipit.

Just occasionally I tie myself in stupid knots over the identification of a relatively easy bird. Maybe it's an age thing. Or just incompetence. Whatever. This pipit for example. I flushed the bird off a path and it flew - silently - to this perch. As you can see, it is horribly backlit. I managed just a couple of photos before it flew - silently again of course - into the middle of a field of crops. It wasn't very close, but binocular views told me it was a Tree Pipit. The flank streaks looked very thin, and I thought I could detect the makings of an Olive-backed Pipit type ear covert spot. So I get home, load the pics on to the laptop, and immediately start fretting. Are those flank streaks actually fine enough? The bill looks pretty robust, but is it robust enough? And where's the ear covert spot? I don't see it! And of course the hind toe is hidden! The other photo...

Anyway, I settled on Tree Pipit eventually, but if anyone wants to sort me out...?

So, I've been birding forty-odd years, and look at me! Hopefully one or two readers will find it reassuring that someone with so much experience is sometimes really useless!

A lovely (but uncooperative) female Redstart. I can do Redstarts.

Right, that's about it I think. I would love to include a list of birds seen today, but time is against me...

Good night.

Sunset from the Cogden seawatch spot.

Smiling at the Small Things

Very often it's really easy to work out why there is a big, fat grin all over your birding face. An out-of-context Stone-curlew, say. But many times the memorable and enjoyable things are small, perhaps even surprising...

These last couple of days have seen the wind strengthen somewhat, from principally an easterly direction. For me that means seawatching - if I can - even when it's blowing offshore a bit. My reasoning is that at least a few of the birds heading up-Channel will get pushed westwards into Lyme Bay, and at some point may well be visible from my local bit of coast. Certainly I've learned that Burton Bradstock, Cogden et al are a lot more reliable in these conditions than Seaton was. In three shortish watches, this is my tally so far:

Whimbrel 51
Dunlin 3
Bar-tailed Godwit 27
Sandwich Tern 15
Manx Shearwater 131
Peregrine 1
Red-throated Diver 2
Med Gull 2
Common Scoter 19
Arctic Skua 1

This evening's highlight was undoubtedly the light-phase Arctic Skua which cruised E past Burton Bradstock at 19:07. I'd been in position for no more than two or three minutes, and the only reason I'd made the effort at all was a message on the local WhatsApp group to the effect that a Pom Skua flew E past Dawlish a little earlier. So, James, thanks for getting me out!

Cogden yesterday evening. Not exactly classic seawatch conditions, but it was warm, peaceful, and there were birds...

Striding along the Cogden shingle this morning at sunrise, I noticed a flicker of movement ahead of me. A tiny bird was flying left, away from the sea, at no more than ankle height. It landed in a scanty bit of vegetation and peered at me. A Willow Warbler. I wondered how long it had just taken to cross the vast expanse of sea between here and France, and how knackered it was after tackling that stiff easterly. No more than a few grams of warm-blooded flesh and feather. What they accomplish...

Amazing stuff.

Yesterday afternoon I picked up what was clearly a falcon, far out to sea. For ages I watched it slowly approach the coast. To make forward progress against the strong ESE pushing it sideways, the bird appeared to angle itself at 45 degrees, occasionally side-slipping low to the waves as if resting briefly, but mainly flapping strongly. I suspect it was a Hobby, but when it finally reached land the range was simply too great to be sure. Again, amazing stuff. Blown away by a bird that I couldn't even identify with total confidence!

Sitting in the garden this afternoon - in between bouts of chatty, toddling granddaughter - I heard the gull alarm go off...

The garden's 2nd Red Kite of 2021. It is munching something, and couldn't care less about the agitated escort.

Birding is supremely excellent on so many levels...

Wish-list Tick

Like most birders, I expect, I have an unwritten list of exciting birdy events that I would like to happen one day. A wish-list. Most involve finding good birds. At one end of the scale are realistic hopes like my Redstart encounter in the last post, while at the other end resides the stuff of fantasy. Somewhere in the middle are the 'very unlikely, but not impossible'. One of those happened today...

When I first got to know Cogden Beach a few years ago, I recall reading how Mike and Alan - the Bex and Cogden regulars - accidentally flushed a Stone-curlew off the beach one day. It's not hard to visualise. Cogden Beach is wide and birdy, with a rich flora. It is also very long, and first thing in the morning usually deserted. When I visit during migration season, and sense that I am probably the first person to walk the beach that day, I sometimes think about that oft-pictured Stone-curlew flush, and entertain a fragile hope. What a hopeless romantic.

This morning I arrived at 06:15, parked up and ambled very slowly down towards the beach. A couple of Blackcaps were in fine voice, but the scrub otherwise felt a bit empty. No telltale Willowy Warbling to suggest an overnight arrival. Reaching the coast path I turned left and looked along the beach. In the distance I could see a woman jogging along its crown towards West Bexington, so mentally abandoned thoughts of any large, flushable birds being left undisturbed. Still, nothing ventured...

I had barely gone 100 yards when a biggish bird lifted off the back of the beach and flew towards the sea. In silhouette it had an oddly hunched look, and my first thought was 'What the heck is that?!' Then I got my bins on it, more or less as it moved into better light, and the penny dropped. Stone-curlew! Never has a camera been ripped from its bag more rapidly. I didn't muck about with mega-zoom, just 300mm; I wanted a sure-fire photo in the can before it headed off to Devon.

Stone-curlew and Golden Cap, arguably the highest spot on the south coast.

Instead of Devon it chose to swing around and return to Cogden. I saw it touch down on the grassy field between the beach and the car park. There followed a couple of minutes of frantic phone activity, during which a woman and three dogs appeared from the direction of the car park and walked right past the Stone-curlew field. Agh!! Surely it must have flushed again? I didn't see it fly, but I was a long way off. Approaching closer I couldn't see it in the field either. Mike was on his way from Bex, and Alan from home, and the bird had vanished. Not again! Last year all my decent Cogden birds did a bunk before anyone else got to see them, and I really didn't want another one on that list...

I don't know what made me scan the coast path to the west, but I did, and there in the far distance was a leggy bird imitating the behaviour of a huge plover. It had to be, surely?! It was. Forgive the pictorial overload...

Unlike the two Stone-curlews I've seen on the old Axe patch, no colour-rings on this one.

By now Mike had arrived, and we hoped Alan would turn up before the first dog-walker loomed over the horizon from the direction of Burton Bradstock. Because when that happened, the bird would definitely be off again. Unfortunately he didn't, but the Stone-curlew considerately flew only as far as the first field inland...

Very distant, but what a wing pattern!

Thankfully Alan arrived in time to see it here. I headed off along the beach as originally intended, while Mike and Alan moved uphill for better views. Roughly an hour after its first appearance, the Stone-curlew departed north over the coastal ridge, and Mike got these final flight shots...

What a cracker!    Pics © Mike Morse

This is the first Stone-curlew I've genuinely 'found'. I was party to the discovery of one on St Agnes in Scilly in April 1986, but wasn't the first to clap eyes on it, so never counted that bird as a find. I have to say, the reality of today's events certainly matched those imagined! I am buzzing!

Apart from a nice flock of 2 Whimbrel and 4 Bar-tailed Godwits, and 2 Wheatears, the rest of my walk was uneventful. However, I will close with the tale of one of those Wheatears...

At one point in my beach walk I went down to the waterline to check for waders. A Wheatear was crouched on the shingle, about 10 yards onto dry land. I tried to get around it so the sun was behind me for a photo, but it flew to the top of the beach. I tried again...

I managed just this one shot, then it flew...

Yes, it flew. It flew across the beach, across the coast path, and across the first field, gaining height all the time. Heading north with intent, it grew smaller and smaller...and smaller. I would like to say that I watched until it melted into the sky, but instead I used mental extrapolation to visualise just that, and lowered my bins. Wow. That Wheatear had literally just arrived on our shores, and there it was, streaking away like a little rocket. Migration!

Finding Your Own Birds

This afternoon I found my own Redstart. It didn't happen exactly as I imagined, but pretty close...

A spring male Redstart has been on my 'wanted' list for ages. The last one I saw was at Cogden on April 23rd, 2017. Which sounds dreadful, doesn't it? Four years ago! My excuse is total lack of effort in 2018 and 2019, and total lack of good fortune in 2020. Anyway, this year I have been trying hard. The local coast looks so good for migrant Redstarts, and you would imagine they'd be everywhere. But the reality is different. They might be Common Redstart by name, but common they are not. And part of the problem could simply be the sheer wealth of suitable habbo. At Bex and Cogden alone there are miles and miles of hedgerows like this one...

Lovely, isn't it?

A short, early-morning walk at Cogden had been quiet. Apart from 4 Wheatears the only signs of fresh migrants were a singing Willow Warbler and three Whitethroats - though the latter might have been birds on territory already. But at lunchtime I noticed that Portland had a few new bits and bobs, including two or three Redstarts, which gave me hope for the intended afternoon visit to West Bexington.

I stuck to the east side of the village, and worked every accessible (or visible) hedgerow that I could. I even found a couple of paths I'd never walked before, so it was a little voyage of discovery too...

I saw a phyllosc fly up into a small tree, so peered at the canopy through my bins. There was a movement, but instead of the anticipated phyllosc I could see a load of red belly through the twiggage - and way too much for a Robin! Ha! I know what you are! Yesss! My gorgeous little prize immediately flew up the field and into another tree along the hedge, and vanished. So I waited. Soon enough it popped out into view, dropping briefly into the field to grab some morsel. I snatched a quick burst of shots...

Oof! Look at that! Redstart blur

I sat down in the grass and just watched it for a while. It was rather distant but seemed at ease, so I made no attempt to get any closer. It behaved exactly as you'd expect a migrant Redstart to behave. It sat jauntily in the hedge, all pert loveliness and quivery red tail, and periodically whisked out into the field to grab some wriggly edible. Every single photo is blighted with ghastly heat-haze, but these two less than most...

I moved on eventually, ridiculously pleased with this brief encounter. I couldn't work out whether the odd sense of relief I felt was due to the lifting of some self-imposed pressure, or the satisfaction of a challenging job successfully accomplished. Whatever, my step was weirdly happy and light...

Let's face it, I could have driven to Portland and probably guaranteed myself a Redstart, but this one was a £20 note compared to what would have been a Portland penny. When it comes to value, no comparison. Which is why I am such a zealous advocate of the 'find your own' approach. It's hard to beat the feeling that comes with finding nice birds in the quieter, less-hammered spots.

By this point I had seen very few other migrants. Less than a handful of Willow Warblers was about it. In fact, a scuttling Lizard sp (presumably Common Lizard) had been the afternoon's highlight, followed by this...

My first Orange Tip of the year, being very uncooperative.

Wandering into East Bexington territory for a bit, I came across my one and only Wheatear. Obviously it needed photographing...

The heat-haze is immense, so the Wheatear remains small!

At East Bex there are a couple of ditches-cum-hedgerows which basically run straight inland from the sea. They look obvious birdy highways in the wide expanse of open farmland. Here's one of them...

Looking inland from the bottom end. Just a mass of chest-high Alexanders.

The top end includes a hedge which is currently seven or eight feet high.

Imagine an overcast, drizzly spring morning, and a mass arrival of tired little birds. That Alexanders would be absolutely leaping, surely? Hopefully I'll get the chance to find out one day.

Almost two hours after the joyous Redstart happening I was close to the end of my walk. Of course, I had continued to check every hedgerow still. Another Willow Warbler or two, but nothing else. And then...

Hello. What's this, sitting up all pert and perky? Ha!

Miles away! Rubbish light, desperate heat-haze, but...gorgeous male Redstart number two!

Unfortunately I couldn't get any closer and had to make do with these views. But I didn't care. This Redstart had definitely read the script, and fitted perfectly into my imagined scenario: scan hedge; spot bird; get excited. It moved up and down the hedge a bit, but was always distant.

Yeah, I know. Just a couple of Common Redstarts. Regular spring migrant. Nothing special.

Ha ha! You have no idea!

Twenty-three Thousand Steps

I have one of those Garmin watches which detects long periods of idle sloth and periodically instructs me to 'Move!' Obviously I ignore it. On the other hand it also senses when I am trudging the local area in search of migrants, and counts my steps. Today I managed well over 23,000 - which is massive - and my watch was quick with the commendation:

'You are moving more than a typical Tuesday'

Thanks, watch. Or maybe it wasn't commendation exactly..? Anyway, Burton Bradstock to East Bexington and back, with a couple of detours, is a long and lovely stretch of West Dorset coast and countryside. But first, some catching up...

These last few days I've been a bit slack, or otherwise engaged, and outings have been short and sweet. Not birdless though...

My first Red Kite of the year, inland of the coast road at West Bexington on Saturday afternoon.

With less heat-haze and more skill this might have looked pretty good.

Very distant Red-throated Diver at Cogden, thinking seriously about summer plumage.

P900 focus mechanism threads through much twiggy stuff and finds Wheatear.

Fence posts can look pretty cool.

I keep seeing bee-flies at West Bex, so have made an effort to photograph them. Accidentally I found there are at least two species present...

Dark-edged on the left, Dotted on the right. Not sure I've knowingly seen the latter before.

And so to today.

Slept right through my early alarm, so decided to have breakfast, review last night's nocmig and keep an eye on the local birdy WhatsApp group. There was little of note in the way of nocmig until 04:31, right in the middle of the dawn chorus...

Most of those squiggles are made by Robins, but some are made by a migrant wader (see below).

Meanwhile, out in the field, local birders were enjoying a big arrival of Willow Warblers, along with a few other bits and bobs. Eventually I got amongst it too, but I suspect that many (most?) of the Willow Warblers had already pushed on inland. Still, when the scenery looks like this it's hard not to want to spend a lot of time in it, birds or not...

Look at that sky! That sea! The distant white bits on the left are the chalk cliffs of Beer Head.

For all the hours spent, and the 11 or 12 miles walked, a species list would look a bit slim, but it was just so delightful to be out there today. And to be fair, my count of 58 Wheatears is by far the most I have seen on a spring outing since I've lived in this part of the world. The only other birds I bothered putting a number to were Swallows (5), Whimbrel (6) and Whinchat (1). The last two were my first of the year. Some pics...

Yes, that dark, unpleasant-looking stuff behind the Wheatear is dung. That field has been subject to some serious muck-spreading!

I thought the plumage on this presumed 1st-summer male made a nice change from the spanking adults which usually hog the limelight on here.

Unfortunately a typical NQS fly-by photo, as 6 Whimbrel are spotted a bit too late. More accurately this shot should be called a flown-by photo.

Here's an NQS oddity. A plant. More specifically, an orchid. The gen on this rather lovely thing was kindly given me by the local farmer. To be honest, if I had stumbled across it myself I would have assumed it was an Early Purple Orchid, but that's because I don't know any better. However, it's a Green-winged Orchid, and a new one for me.

Green-winged Orchid

Just the one spike, which somehow makes it even more special.

Oops! Sneaked in another Wheatear. My excuse? The background is the sea. Good enough?

Birdy prize of the day. Distant Whinchat. I watched this bird for several minutes, willing it to move. It remained in that exact spot from start to finish, and barely turned its head. Fat, idle thing.

Finally, here's that nocmig wader again...

Did you spot it?

Certainly the loudest, clearest Common Sand I've recorded so far, and my first of the year. This is what it sounds like...

Today was a nice little taste of spring migrant action. In reality it is still relatively early days, and there must be many millions of birds yet to come. All I can say is, one of them had better be a Redstart with my name on it!