Not Mainstream, Possibly...

Since Tuesday's Portland jolly I have managed four local outings to various points along the coast between Burton Bradstock and East Bexington. More than ten hours of birding, most of it in the afternoon. I can tell you that only once during that time did a bird have me ripping frantically at the flap on my camera bag. It was yesterday, at West Bex. Circling with a Kestrel was a surprise Hobby, which headed rapidly west along the coastal ridge the moment it saw me trying - and failing - to focus on it. If I kept proper records I could tell you for sure that it was my latest Hobby ever, but as I don't...

Anyway, nothing else has even tried to get me excited. If I reveal that my efforts have produced exactly 1.5 Chiffchaffs and 0.2 Goldcrests per hour, does that tell you anything? I could go on, but I'm sure you get the picture. So that's West Dorset. But a similar vibe is apparent elsewhere too, and reading between the Twittery lines it is obvious that many birders are currently underwhelmed by the goods on offer, even at popular birders' holiday locations with a good track record.

Social media exacerbates the issue of course. Reading that East Yorkshire is hosting a Taiga Flycatcher and Two-barred Greenish Warbler does not help you feel better about your patch's empty bushes. And when gripping photos (which you feel grudgingly obliged to 'like') are posted by friends and acquaintances who were quick to respond to the urgent prodding of their mega-alerts, well, it almost makes you want to join the circus doesn't it...?

And yes, that's one option.

It's funny. When I sit down to write a blog post, usually I know exactly where it's going. But sometimes not. And this is one of those times...

Before I wander too far off-piste though, a few local bits and bobs...

Wednesday lunchtime, and 2 Red Kites sail over the garden like it's May. Superb!

Foul weather put a stop to nocmig at the end of September, but I allowed the brief pause to develop into a long one, and it wasn't until October 8th that the kit was deployed once more. However, since then I have recorded almost 2,500 birds! Most of them have been these...

Redwing calls

The nocmig tally for the last nine nights includes 1814 Redwings (918 on 12th/13th), 589 Song Thrushes, 17 Blackbirds, a small flock of Common Scoters, 2 Skylarks, and singles of Snipe, Meadow Pipit and Golden Plover. Here's the Golden Plover...

At East Bexington yesterday I could see a very distant flock of ducks offshore. I was sure they were Common Scoters but took a few photos for insurance purposes. And yes, Common Scoters. But...

7 Common Scoters, almost all males...

...but this one has more yellow on the bill than I'm used to

I must admit that my main reason for taking these photos was the Surf Scoter possibility, and Black Scoter never entered my head. It has now! Clearly this is just a Common Scoter with a little bit more yellow on the bill than usual, but I must confess it made me realise how easy it would be to overlook a very rare bird that was hiding in plain sight!

Right then, where was I...?

Social media. On Twitter I follow many birders who post terrific photos of birds they've seen, and I am used to long-staying rarities featuring multiple times on my timeline. And some of those pics will be stunning. I am also used to the tendency for birders to congratulate one another when they 'connect' or 'catch up' with some rare bird they've twitched. I do get it. It is just birders expressing their pleasure at a friend's success. And what's wrong with that? Thirty years ago I'd have said: 'Nothing.'

Recently I was chatting to someone very well known in the birding world, and it was refreshing to realise that I am not the only birder who feels a measure of dismay at the seeming 'as you were' behaviour of so many, including a sizeable (and influential?) contingent of young birders. The recent Long-toed Stint in West Yorkshire is a case in point. By lunchtime on its first full day as a correctly-identified mega, 2,000 twitchers had reportedly 'connected'. Strewth! Anyway, cue ensuing glut of pics on Twitter. Normally I would simply enjoy them all but, let's be frank, hardly any of them are better than record shots, and most are simply rubbish, even worse than you might find on this blog. So, what is it that drives loads of birders to post on Twitter very poor photos of the same bird as everyone else? I really do not know...

If you have managed to get this far, and have concluded that I am just a moany old fart who begrudges others having fun, well, fine. But really, I'm not, and I don't. I simply find it very difficult to reconcile what one might call 'mainstream birding' with evidence of concern for our environment. I feel like I'm enjoying a different hobby somehow...

Right. Enough of that.

Going back to how this post began, I would like to conclude with a photo that emphatically illustrates the truth of that old saying: it only takes one bird...

Never give up, and always look at gulls thrushes.

Hello Portland. It's Been a While...

The last time I went birding on Portland was 3rd May 2004, when two adult Long-tailed Skuas and a dark-phase Pom were the stand-out highlights. So why the 17-year wait? I've written previously about my tendency to go there almost never, and it is something I've been meaning to rectify since publishing that post. And finally, a mere nine months later, I have...

My last October visit was almost exactly 25 years ago. I referred to that day in the post linked above, and remembered to mention the several Firecrests, the Lapland Bunting and the unwelcome lack of Northern Waterthrush. But I had completely forgotten about the smart male Subalpine Warbler in the Obs quarry! Even my Portland dips are nicely decorated.

Today was not a twitch though. Just a straightforward on-spec visit, with no expectations beyond a nice walk and dry weather. The Portland Bird Observatory terrace at 06:30 was a fine spot to watch the sun rise and begin the day's caffeine-loading. In the half-light a distant, idling diesel engine was briefly misidentified as a churring Nightjar. It could only get better...

At first light there were birds everywhere, especially at the Bill. Loads of Pied Wags, Meadow Pipits, Linnets etc. A Golden Plover went over at the head of a Woodpigeon flock. Lots to look at. As the morning progressed, the sun rose higher and grew hotter. The afternoon was absolutely gorgeous, though unsurprisingly not that birdy. Some pics etc...

At 09:15 I accidentally flushed a Short-eared Owl from some stubble right next to the track I was on. It plonked down further away, and I could see its eyes peering at me and its stubby little 'ears'. Unfortunately this Crow was on it straight away, and chivvied it into the air...

Short-eared Owl getting grief

I didn't get a photo of the Golden Plover, but I did get this...

I had my recorder switched on for the duration, but sadly didn't capture anything else to get excited about. Not that I'm aware of anyway. Mind you, there was certainly some potential around. Like this, for example...

Bird of the day for me - Yellow-browed Warbler

Seeing Yellow-browed Warbler in the hand was a personal first, and the result of a beautifully timed coffee break. Just wonderful.

During the afternoon sunsine there was plenty of non-birdy stuff on the wing, and occasionally settling...

Comma

Migrant Hawker

Unfortunately the three Clouded Yellows I saw failed to cooperate, but were definitely the best of the inverts. For what it's worth, my bird tally: 20 Chiffs (undoubtedly a huge undercount), 8 Blackcaps, singles of Whitethroat, Yellow-browed Warbler, Golden Plover, Heron and Wheatear. Needless to say, there were thousands of other birds, and so there should be in about 12 miles of walking! Talking of Wheatear, I almost forgot...

Obviously there's a Wheatear photo

Finally, it was great to chat briefly with fellow Dorset birder Joe Stockwell and PBO warden Martin Cade. I thoroughly enjoyed the change of scenery and look forward to visiting again, and maybe next time I'll ponce a cup of Obs tea to go with my choc-chip muffin...

No Siskins

Yesterday was glorious again. A sunny afternoon plod round Cogden and West Bex was predictably lacking in birdy thrills, but 2 Whinchats were nice to see, and 4 Clouded Yellows. Actually, it was really a day for butterflies. And dewy bottles of beer.

This morning I made an effort. Out reasonably early, I walked from Burton Bradstock to the far end of Cogden and back, with the recorder going. Lots of birds on the move. I tend to be a lazy counter, but 300+ Jackdaws heading west made it into print. My first Redpoll of the autumn too. No Siskins though. Well, not until I sat down this evening and had a flick through my recording. I only checked a fraction of it, but at least three times I spied the tell-tale shapes, and sure enough...Siskins. Whatever birding skills I once had are definitely on the way out...

However, I can spot big white things. So when a Great White Egret tried to sneak across Cogden airspace I was on it in a flash. Mind you, the camera was a bit slower than me...

My first GWE since this time last year, when two flew W past Cogden, just offshore

They might be an everyday sight in many places - in silly numbers too - but Great White Egret is still a pretty scarce bird locally.

Finally, for a change it wasn't a Wheatear which perched up in obliging fashion this morning...

Meadow Pipit

Meadow Pipits never let me get that close. Presumably that's a look of astonished pity...

'Seriously? You can't hear those Siskins?!'

Not Quite the Horn of Plenty

Since the last post there are five new entries in my smartphone's notes app, one each for Tuesday to Saturday. One of them is quite unusual...

5/10 West Bexington 15:40 -

And that's it. It was so uneventful that I didn't even bother with a finish time. I'm not sure when I last noted absolutely nothing at all, but to be fair it is a very rare event. Birding on the coast is not necessarily a daily cornucopia of feathery wonder. That said, there is usually (apart from 5/10) something to photograph...

6/10 A Cogden Wheatear

6/10 Flavour of the moment - Cogden Meadow Pipit

6/10 Autumn Thrift, a sad shadow of its vibrant springtime glory

7/10 East Bex Wheatear on WWII beach furniture

7/10 West Bex Guillemot

7/10 This year's Med Gulls looking too cool for their socks

7/10 West Bex Phalacrocorax phalanx

8/10 Cogden Scoter

There's a story attached to a couple of the above...

Guillemot. Crunching along the West Bex shingle, I spied in the distance an auk corpse stretched out pathetically on the beach. It was lying on one side, its head flat against the pebbles. I strode towards it to check for rings, digging out the camera for an in memoriam photo. As I drew near, the bird's head suddenly reared up. Next, it scampered rapidly towards the sea, rushed in and instantly disappeared below the surface. Fairly soon it popped up, and then paddled about in a worryingly lop-sided fashion. Mind you, this is the first time I have been fortunate enough to witness a resurrection.

Common Scoter. Distant, black, sleeping blob. Obviously a Common Scoter. There's been a few about I hear. I walked away and ignored it. Several minutes later I could see it had woken up, following the close passage of a motor-boat. It was just beyond binocular range, but surely a Common? Once upon a time I found a young drake Surf Scoter off Beer. It too was alone. So I walked down the beach again for a closer look. Still too distant. Resting the camera on the beach for stability, I took some shots at maximum zoom and checked the results with restrained optimism. Sigh... No glory today.

9/10 Oh look! Another Cogden Wheatear

9/10 Cogden Whinchat...

...times two

It's funny. Here we are in October, the season of seriously rare, and my last five outings have produced nothing more than a modest tally of common migrants. A quick perusal of BirdGuides or Twitter tells me that I am missing out, and would do a lot better here, or here, or perhaps there. So why am I not dissatisfied with my paltry lot? How on earth can I see barely anything at all and say it's actually enjoyable?

In truth I cannot really answer those questions. But I'm not dissatisfied. And I really have enjoyed my recent outings, even 5/10 West Bexington 15:40 - ...

In the last 24 hours I've watched a Temminck's Stint become a Least Sandpiper (not for the first time!) and then finally a Long-toed Stint, a species which almost everyone 'needs'. This is a metamorphosis which at one time would have got me all the way to Yorkshire. Why not now? I really do not know, but am very happy to remain unmoved. I often wonder at this apparent dichotomy between the old me and the current version, but know which I prefer.

The Scilly vs Shetland Question

With rain forecast to arrive around lunchtime I squeezed in a quick late-morning walk at Cogden. Atlantic-style weather is dominating at the moment, so my expectations were very low. But you never know...

The first field I tried yielded a trio of Whinchats, which was a delightful surprise...

Two of today's three Whinchats

The other, more cooperative one

Factor in 4 Chiffchaffs, 25+ Meadow Pipits, at least 11 Skylarks, 55+ Swallows and a Sand Martin, and it was an enjoyable walk. I scanned the sea many times, hoping the brisk SW might offer some thrills, but saw not so much as a single Gannet.

Yesterday's blog post was fun to write. Scilly always comes to mind at this time of year, and the current output of Twitter keeps it there. Shetland also. The birders on both archipeligos regularly post photos of the star birds, and very gripping they are too. At the moment it appears that Shetland has the lion's share of rarities, and already (on October 4th!) we have seen one or two tweets in the 'Yep, Scilly's definitely had its day' vein. Always makes me chuckle. I've written on this subject before, but as it seems topical...

Unless the only criterion that interests you is the total number of rare and scarce birds, the Scilly vs Shetland argument is a classic exercise in comparing apples with oranges.

When you arrive on Scilly, you are faced with roughly 16km² of well-vegetated habitat. Assuming you are physically capable, you can walk from one location to the next. If you fancy twitching a bird found at the other end of your island, you can walk there in less than an hour. If it's on another island, you walk to the quay, catch a boat, land on said island and walk some more. Arriving on Shetland though, your playground is somewhat larger. With some 1,466km² to go at, accessing it all is a very different game. If you are based near Sumburgh in the south, and fancy twitching a bird at Skaw on Unst, you've got an 80-something mile journey ahead, including a ferry crossing.

When it comes to Scilly and Shetland, the question 'which is better?' is a bit meaningless unless you take into account a lot more variables than the rarity count. For most birders a visit to either is a holiday, so perhaps a better question would be 'which will I most enjoy?' And clearly there is only one way to find that out for sure.

But yes, obviously Scilly is better.

Sixteen

On Saturday, 13th October 1984, a morning helicopter flight arrived on St Mary's and eager birders disembarked. I find it hard to believe that it is almost 37 years since I first set foot on the Scilly Isles.

I was so excited! Was Scilly going to live up to the hype? Our party of four was completed by fellow West London-based birder Brendan Ryan, along with Geoff Burton and Martin Warburton from Kent. We were based in Silver Street, a few yards from Porthcressa and a short stagger from the evening log call. Having dumped our luggage, the next step was easy...

There was a Common Yellowthroat on Bryher.

With hindsight I am not in the slightest bit surprised at what I then did, but at the time I still had a few things to learn about myself. The other three made straight for the quay, and the next boat to Bryher. Not me. There was this sketchy rumour of a possible American Robin at Borough Farm on St Mary's, and I decided to head that way to see if anything came of it. Basically in the exact opposite direction to everyone else. On my own. I remember seeing a Red-rumped Swallow, but very little else.

The Yellowthroat showed well.

At this point I should mention that my notebook for that trip no longer exists, and I cannot recall in detail (or even roughly!) the day-to-day events. However, I do know for sure that my first trip to the Scilly Isles bagged me 16 ticks. Sixteen! And Red-rumped Swallow was the first. The next morning I was one of a small group of birders on Bryher who enjoyed terrific views of the Common Yellowthroat in its favourite little apple tree. Tick number two.

I have tried hard to remember all the species that were new to me on that trip, but can only think of 14, maybe 15. At least three of them were seen later that Sunday: Woodchat Shrike, Little Bunting and Blackpoll Warbler, all on St Agnes.

I shall just list some of the others: Ortolan and Rustic Bunting, Melodious Warbler, Short-toed Lark, Dusky Warbler, Olivaceous Warbler. In some cases not just one bird either. Rustic Bunting twice at least, Little Bunting ditto, and Ortolan on two or three occasions, including two birds together once.

One rare bird that wasn't a tick was Rock Thrush. A frantic but unsuccessful effort one evening, followed by a wonderful performance the following morning on the spectacular rocky outcrops of Penninis Head. Unforgettable.

What struck me was the seeming abundance of quality. A long wait for an elusive Dusky Warbler on Tresco was made more than bearable by the presence of Melodious Warbler, Ortolan Bunting and Red-breasted Flycatcher in the same spot.

A few photos...

The Scilly virgin, Old Grimsby, Tresco.

And the old hands. Brendan (on the left) and Geoff.

I quickly learned lessons which would stand me in good stead on future visits. Though initially bemused by birders donning full waterproofs prior to an inter-island boat trip on a dry, sunny day, well...

A lovely day. But windy!

I don't know how many birders were on Scilly in mid-October 1984, but definitely lots...

Rustic Bunting by the Garrison football pitch. Brendan with my scope. Needless to say, we had already seen it.

Rustic Bunting on Tresco a couple of days later.

In those days I carried a camera at times. A cheap Zenit B SLR and equally budget Helios 500mm mirror lens...

Super-tame Dotterel on the Golf course

Tawny Pipit on Old Grimsby beach, Tresco. I've a funny feeling that Somerset (but then West London) birder Jeff Hazell might have found this bird.

Eastern Olivaceous (but then just Olivaceous) Warbler, Watermill

On our last day, we set out in the morning with little expectation. I'm not sure what time we were booked on the chopper, but late enough that we were able to respond in a full and satisfying way to the staggering news that an Eye-browed Thrush had been found at Salakee Farm. It was a gob-smackingly gorgeous male, and liked to perch on cow pats...

Eye-browed Thrush twitchers, along the path from Salakee Farm to Porthellick

I used to dabble in pen & ink in those days but almost never used pencil, and I'm not sure why I waited three years to do this, but hey-ho...

I think it would be difficult to envisage a more thrilling finale to my first Scilly trip. Eye-browed Thrush was an absolutely mythical bird back then. When we later boarded the chopper I think most of us were already airborne.

Looking back, that one-week holiday could hardly have painted the gorgeous Scilly Isles in a more favourable light. The islands won my heart then, and have had it ever since.

A Strained Relationship

In past NQS posts I may well have expressed a love of seawatching. Well, all I can say right now is that seawatching and I need a bit of relationship counselling, because I am rapidly falling out of love.

On Monday morning I tried an early one at Cogden. I sat down, made a note of the start time, and ended up going home for breakfast without troubling my notepad any further. This morning I forgot to enter the start time and wound up writing nothing at all. In fact, within 15 minutes I realised it was going to be slow and found myself suddenly eager to leave. I think I stuck it for about 30 minutes. Tuesday was a little better. Cogden again, 11:00 - 13:00 and a strong SSW. I noted 19 Balearic Shearwaters, 18 Kitts, 2 Common Scoters, 2 Arctic Skuas and 9 auk sp. What those figures fail to convey is how deeply unsatisfying it all was, because almost everything was at mega-range, and there were several interesting but totally unidentifiable dots. The only redeeming aspect was a constant to-ing and fro-ing of Gannets, so there was almost always something to look at and check. Even so, two hours were plenty.

Yesterday was quite stormy, and under normal circumstances I would have looked forward to a bit of seawatching. Unfortunately I was in Exeter most of the day, but one of the local birders did spend four hours at Cogden, reporting 2 Arctic Skuas, 1 Balearic Shearwater, 1 Little Gull and a juvenile Sabine's. I've seen just three local Sabine's Gulls, and none of those while seawatching exactly. I'd love to see another, but the thought of sitting through four hours of Gannets in order to do so... I just can't get excited about it.

Spring seawatching is one thing, and the prospect of spoony Poms will always be a draw. At least I hope so. But autumn? That's a different thing. I can't remember the last time I had a really enjoyable autumn seawatch locally. And I've noticed that mobile birding is more and more appealing to me these days. I'd much rather walk for two hours and see not much, than achieve a similar result on my backside.

Anyway, what else has been happening since last weekend's Caspian Gull? Not much really. Apart from the seawatch tally mentioned above, five outings have netted 2 Chiffs, 2 Wheatears, a Whinchat, a Green Sandpiper and about 8 Snipe. Pretty feeble.

A Sparrowhawk on the beach last Sunday was a nice novelty though

East Bex Wheatear this afternoon, in ex-maize field

Looking at the weather forecast right now is pretty depressing. An unrelenting procession of Atlantic-based gank. Mind you, if I was a keen seawatcher...

 

Update - 2nd October

The original version of this post included the following:

The blasting wind has largely emptied the coast of gulls and, unlike last Saturday, this afternoon there were none at all in the East Bex fields, and no Med Gulls anywhere. I came across one small group of large gulls on West Bex beach - less than ten birds - and one looked interesting. Looking into the sun, the light was abysmal, but...

On the left: 1st-winter Yellow-legged Gull. On the right: 2nd-winter Herring Gull

Through bins it was too distant and poorly lit, and I couldn't nail it, but the camera persuaded me that a bit of effort was called for. I walked further west, then down on to the beach and back towards the gulls. The light was side-on, but much better. Just as I was lining up for the first photos, someone on the coast path spooked the lot...

1st-winter YLG in 60% of its glory

Okay. First of all, that is definitely not a Yellow-legged Gull. For a start, the scapulars should be much more strongly marked, with obvious dark anchors etc, and the greater coverts should be more obviously chequered. So what is it? The options are Herring Gull, Caspian Gull, Lesser Black-backed or hybrid. Without going into detail it is pretty easy to rule out Herring Gull and Caspian Gull, which leaves us with the last two. To suggest it's a hybrid would be a weasely cop-out, so I shall just put my hand up and admit that, as Tim suggests in the comments below, this is a pretty bog-standard Lesser Black-backed Gull.

In reality gulls fool me all the time, but not many get as far as the blog before I realise what's happened. I briefly contemplated removing all reference to this cock-up, but perhaps it is better to leave it here as a salutary lesson. One of the reasons I love gulls is because they are such a challenge. They stretch my ID skills and force me to learn new things. But gulls are hard. Mistakes are inevitable, and I would imagine that all of us who enjoy getting involved with gulls make plenty of them. So here's a nice (and hopefully rare) public example of one of mine!

Gulls keep you grounded. Always look at them. [wry grin emoji]