I will begin by apologising for this post being about myself and what I do rather than the wildlife I observe. But what can I possibly add about its subject anyway, and the landmark it represents should be recorded herein. After several bird lifers in Tenerife earlier this year my next one would be 500 for Europe (the Canaries being part of Spain), so it would be a pity not to write things up on a matter of personal ethics.

As any birder knows, there have been two Long-tailed Shrikes nationally this month. The first in Fife, Scotland from 5 – 8th July which prompted a massive twitch (see here) was only the second British record. Then a different individual was found much closer to home just across my county border in Glos on 8th, that date overlapping with the first bird. News of the latter was not put out straight away as the landowner was away from home and did not wish to accommodate another large-scale twitch until he returned. But everything fell into place at Eastleach Downs (SP208076) over this featured week.

Sunday 19th July was a day on which I needed to get out. So I started with an early visit to a Hawfinch breeding site in east-Oxon, then indulged a little local Odo surveying. Returning home for lunch and anticipating an afternoon in the garden, I checked the bird news and there it was! There had been anticipation that the Glos LTS would cross our county’s western boundary and now it seemed poised to do so. In any case this could be that Euro 500th, so there was only brief hesitation before I activated the microwave, wolfed down some left overs, then “got out the door”. I should add that I keep the Oxon Birding Forum muted since the sound of constant message alerts of varying relevance can drive me crazy.

The Long-tailed Shrike, a first-summer male is just visible as a tiny dot in the above landscape (blue arrow). I was informed that the wooden post in the picture’s centre marks the county boundary. So in this instance I accepted Hawkeye must rule my quest was just into Oxon, eh Johnny Mac? I am by no means alone in adopting that interpretation. It was not a situation I wished to over-analyse, but of course that ensued in OBF the following day, together with discussions about where the on-site collection might be going and other birders’ behaviour. Such are why I keep WhatsApp groups muted. But by Tuesday 21st almost every active lister in the current OB league table had connected on the Oxon side of that hedge and post.

This species’ (see here) home range spans much of south and south-east Asia, where it favours scrub and open habitats and is typical of other Shrikes in its prominent perching habits. It is an extremely rare vagrant to western Europe, with just one Dutch (2011) and one Scottish (2000) accepted records prior to this months double bill. The individual of this post was in heavy wing and tail moult in late July.

I would like to thank personally the landowner who made an orderly twitch possible, and our Gloster birding colleagues who arranged access and stewarded the parking facility provided. Lastly Oxon Birding admins who confirmed I had observed this 500th European record in my home county, possibly the rarest bird ever recorded here. This was also my British 390th and WestPal 535th career bird record.

Fast forward five days and I needed to get out again. After waking very early on 24th, feeling disorientated from the continuing “heatwave” and too much time spent at home escaping it, I opted to go back for Shrike seconds. Arriving on site some time after 6am, I walked in from the Oxon side and joined a group of birders along the bridleway in the top picture that swelled to 25 while I was there. Some called the bird now and again, then I myself enjoyed good and prolonged scope views from around 50 metres in pleasing light. So the relevant dot in the above picture is now larger than in this post’s lead one.

After a “bathroom break”, so often an unfortunate facet of early starts now; I returned to the car park, made my donation and went back for more. With up to just 50 observers present there was far less sensitivity about people treading the bridleway, as earlier in the week when hundreds lined the lane to the west, and so everything was now good natured. The LTS continued to provide excellent value, but the glary light was terrible compared to early morning, with significant heat haze. I had seen this amazing rarity properly though in a variety of poses, and witnessed it feeding on invertebrate prey, so this intentionally brief post became a little longer.

This likely “bird of the year” was in an active state of moult, and so was anticipated to remain in its adopted surroundings for some time to come. Thus it proved. Each day for the next five weeks the possibly rarest item ever to occur in Oxon was reported on the bird information services, and on Oxon Birding whenever it crossed that county line. I resolved to revisit once its moult was complete.

Returning to site early on Saturday 22nd August, having collected Sally on the way, the Shrike was indeed looking very smart (pictured above) and I gained my closest views of the three visits. The long dark tail of this celebrity’s name and rich orange and grey hues of the upper parts were especially noticeable. During our time on site it caught two voles and various other invertebrate prey. The constraint in early morning is the bird is most likely to be viewed at least partially into the sun, whilst much better pictures may be possible in evenings (see here). But not being a photographer, the most important thing for me was just watching this mega rarity at close quarters and appreciating it’s sublime beauty. What a stunner!

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Footnote: The land farmed at Eastleach Downs (see here) is in a Higher Level Environmental Scheme which aims to redress the balance of unsympathetic agricultural practices, encourage farmland birds back to their natural habitat, and protect a diverse wildlife population. Through all the prior OB reports I was intrigued by the variety of other birds listed by various observers in their posts, but I had not paid attention to that during my first two visits.

Wanting to address that aspect this time I chose an especially observant companion who likes her small passerines. Between us we logged Whinchat, Stonechat, Common Redstart, Northern Wheatear, Corn Bunting, Common and Lesser Whitethroats, Spotted Flycatcher and a large Goldfinch flock; merely along the Oxon bridleway out to the Shrike itself. That for me was a quite impressive selection in a single location that I would have been very pleased with back in county year listing days.

There is a daily TITSA bus from Los Cristianos to Teide NP that allowed me over three hours at the El Portillo visitor centre where I had time for only a rushed visit back in April. On finding that out, I at once sought to do justice to the location. In a week when it transpired that in other respects blue was thankfully not to be the colour this year, that tone certainly pervaded proceedings here. And as people I sent pictures home to reacted: “Just look at that blue sky!”

On my previous visit I had been directed to a small pond in the botanic garden where Blue Chaffinch come in to drink. That was where I headed straight away this time. Sitting on the same low wall again, as soon as I got my sandwich out and as anticipated I became surrounded by Tenerife Lizards, like pigeons in a city centre square. It seemed they could hear the rustling of cellophane as I attempted to unwrap that well-packed lunch, and numbers gathered round my feet that I had to be careful not to tread upon. More seemed curious about my rucksack, walking over it and attempting to get inside, while others looked up at me from either side on the wall. There are dozens of Gallotia galloti here that have no fear of the humans they are so used to and equate with easy meals. Visitors are requested not to feed them.

Amidst all this I heard a bird call that had to be a Blue Chaffinch, which I attempted to take pictures of with one hand while keeping my baguette out of harm’s way with the other. When I made my way out of the garden and along a trail towards Mt Teide (lead picture) there seemed no particular place for these birds to be and so I returned to the pond. After a while the call was heard again and a striking male (pictured below) made it’s way down a strategically placed perch (right) to drink at the water’s edge (left). It certainly had chutzpah.

Blue Chaffinch: the same bird in different light

This Tenerife endemic, an official symbol of the island, is larger and more heavily built than the familiar Chaffinch at home. Males in breeding plumage are bold and deeply blue-toned, with a strong and heavy looking, conical, slate-grey bill. The locally abundant species most commonly occurs in montane Canarian Pine forest from 1200 – 1800m, so my present location was probably as good a place as any to find them at higher altitude. There is a sub-species on Gran Canaria that is scarcer and classed as threatened.

Atlantic Canary (Serinus canaria) became my 499th European career bird record (Tenerife being part of Spain politically) at this location today. Other lifers from my two Tenerife trips were Plain Swift, either Cory’s or Scopoli’s Shearwater (tbc), Nanday Parakeet (an IAS), a female Blue Chaffinch in April, and Barbary Falcon at Montaña de Guaza. I believe those account for Canary specialties missed previously through my four past visits to Fuerteventura.

There were good numbers of Canary Blue butterfly (see here) on the wing at el Portillo. Tiny, fast-flying and hyperactive, these were a pleasing item to tick off the island wish-list being a full species endemic in the western Canary Islands. A Teide specialty, it is unlike any other European blue since the underwings are a variegated brown in both genders, displaying distinct white webbed patterns with a tooth-shaped white band and eye-spots. On the upper side males are a deep, translucent blue and females rich brown. This multi-brooded species is abundant in grassy flowery places amongst trees and scrub all year round in coastal locations, and flies from March to August at higher altitude to 3000m. The female (pictured above) which kept still for me was unfortunately rather tatty when she opened her wings.

All the while and wherever I went Tenerife Lizards scurried about. Being amongst so many of them in one place afforded an opportunity to witness the variation that arises in this like other species, especially in females and immatures of different ages. In the sequence (below) the first picture is a mature male, complete with enhanced head and jowls, showing the paler colouration of northern subjects. The second is a maturing male with less blue toning, and the third a female or immature male with less obvious ocellation than most others I observed .

Something else that pictures of have to be taken home from here is the iconic Mount Teide Red Bugloss (Echium wildpretii – pictured below). These biennial herbaceous plants are also endemic to Tenerife, growing mainly in the sub-alpine zone of Teide NP. They produce dense rosettes of leaves in their first year, then very striking erect inflorescences to 3 metres in the second spring and early summer. After blooming they die. There were very many of them all over the park. The left hand picture (below) was at the more commercialised visitor centre Las Canadas, where the bus stopped for 25 minutes on the outward journey.

And so I end with a vivid splash of red amongst this post’s blue subjects. This day trip must be the most spectacular bus ride I have ever enjoyed, and for a mere £12.20 return fare. The scenery of Teide NP is simply breathtaking. From Los Cristianos the journey unfolded ever upward. Part of the experience was looking down from such great height upon the mountains of my previous post and coastal cloud cover, now very far below. Hence the aforementioned blueness of the sky above.

The road wound on across precipitous slopes and around countless hairpin bends through Teide’s pine forest zone, to emerge into landscapes of volcanic rock formations and vast lava fields surrounding the highest mountain in Spain. It was relaxing not to be doing the driving myself, but much of this could only be taken in through the smoked glass of the bus windows. So I may come back and for longer to fully appreciate this very special place.

When I found out about this I just had to come back. During my April trip I thought there was just one population of the shy and endangered reptile on Tenerife, largely confined to precipitous cliffs in the island’s north-west corner. But a Spanish online resource (see here) I was referred to at the Teno Information Centre confirmed there is a second, smaller cluster just outside of Los Cristianos in the south-west, where I had stayed for the first two nights of that earlier exercise. One group of herpetologists (see here) blogged from there in 2024, while iNaturalist and other sources also mention the location.

The area in question is the Mirador Los Cristianos and Montaña de Guaza, mountainous uplands rising above and effectively enclosing the east and south of the town. The higher Mirador is flanked by large apartment complexes, so I secured a suitable studio there at reasonable cost, that would give me a base for up to four days’ searching. This is a popular hiking area (see here), so each day I could set out on foot for as much as I wished, with no need for a hire car, all nicely away from the hustle and bustle of the mass market resort below. There was nothing not to like here.

The dome-like Monumento Natural Montaña de Guaza‘s steep (100 m high), north-facing cliff (pictured below, top) is crossed by a hiking trail that was at first difficult to pick out from below. That took me some time on 19th, but from the start point along Calle Marea on the edge of town an information board is visible about a third of the way up the slope. This proclaims the presence of Tenerife Speckled Lizard (Gallotia intermedia) in the locality and details the conservation effort surrounding it (see here). A second notice tells people not to proceed further as the trail is unsafe. The local authority has good reason to cover itself against liability in that way, but plenty of walkers still make the climb every day.

Trail start point (left) and most challenging stretch (right)

From that point the way forward is plain, following the line of the highest dry stone walls in the top picture, then zig-zagging above the trees at the left, where things become challenging. The right-hand picture (above) really does show part of the trail. From the top one route continues to the summit of the Mirador, while more traverse Guaza giving access into further hiking areas in the south-western corner of Tenerife. My base was the long white building at the top right of the vistas in this slide show (below).

On the ascent, as so often happens if and when it does, a suitably pale-looking lizard emerged from rocks on one side of the track and posed nicely (below). This looked different from the Tenerife Lizards (Gallotia galloti) I had observed in April. It matches the illustration of Gallotia intermedia in my Collins field guide sufficiently well for me to count it as my trip quest, unless I am corrected by suitably qualified sources who state their own credentials in doing so. There are said to be around 100 individuals in this locality, compared to 500 in the north-west, and the landscape they inhabit is vast. The main threat to their survival is predation by feral cats especially, and rats; hence they try to keep out of harm’s way in inaccessible places.

Though once widespread, this Tenerife endemic was thought to be extinct before being re-discovered in 1996. Through the present century it it has been estimated there may be 40 isolated populations in the north-western distribution area along 9km of coast. Numbers are increasing due to control of introduced mammals, but the current range is only 5% of the potential habitat. The species is still listed in Spain as being in danger of extinction. It is up to 15cm from snout to vent, with the tail about twice as long, the smallest of the Canary giant lizards. As my pictures show, the back is most usually light brown and spotted, with pale ocelli lower down that may be blue. In female and immature Gallotia galotti the back is ocellated too.

After that encounter I continued to climb ever upward. More lizards showed themselves at intervals, but none kept still. Away to the east stretched the Mirador (below), at least twice as high as where I was. It had become apparent as soon as I set out that to find lizards from my base on those precipitous slopes would be impossible. The only way up is the one I was now treading, and it is a long trek. A popular pastime for the adventurous is to go to the summit at sunset. My mind boggles at how they get down again unscathed in the dark.

At the top I headed southward into a high plateau of arid and rocky habitat (pictured above, slide 2). Over everything always loomed the Mirador. Guaza’s origin was volcanic and there are extensive lava flows here. The landscape, filled with abundant spurge plants and large cacti, was spectacular and uplifting to walk in but more of the mere 100 lizards I was searching for might be anywhere. I concluded the most likely place to cross paths with Gallotia intermedia is therefore on the ascent.

Between my base and the scheduled protected area of Guaza lies marginal land that appears to cater for the marginalised, and so was unsuitable for walking as well. This is not the tourist end of town. It is dotted with rough sleeper’s tents and rough shelters, and fringed with lines of the casually parked motor homes of their owners more affluent class of loafer. It is also very suitable lizard habitat and there were more encounters there as I headed out and back. But the individual in this next picture, with an ocellated back, is just not right for a Tenerife Speckled, even should they occur that low down.

The next day I did pretty much the same again. Having resolved not to climb to the top at first, in the event there was nothing else to do. After time spent food shopping and exploring the area around my base, the day had warmed up when I got out to Guaza and I encountered very little. So on 21st I was careful to re-visit during the optimum time window as the day warms up of 10am to noon, stayed on the lower part of the trail and was rewarded with many more active lizards. These were all Gallotia galloti (pictured below), the male being typical of very dark-toned, almost black southern Tenerife variants.

I had been lucky to connect with my trip quest on day one, but that was not to be repeated as things turned out. For myself there is nothing more fulfilling than going somewhere wild and remote, completely alone and self-locating something as exclusive as this particular lizard. Like the Harlequin Ducks at Laxárdalur in Iceland 12 months ago, this may take some ousting as my best wildlife experience of the year. The bottom line is … I did it.

Footnote: There appears to be ambiguity over the area designated as Montaña de Guaza, Some sources name what I have called the Mirador as Guaza, but in the context of this post it was convenient to separate the two.

The far south of Spain offers the opportunity to observe species on the northern edge of their range that do not occur elsewhere in Europe. To record some of these colonists I joined a group tour by the short-haul butterfly and orchid specialist Mariposa (see here), that is operated by David Moore and Jon Dunn with a network of national guides. This post will present my personal highlights, meaning what was new, different or evolved.

Common Tiger Blue

Just to the west of Retamar, near Cabo de Gata lies an unprepossessing piece of coastal wasteland that holds plentiful wild Jujuba bushes (Ziziphus lotus), a deciduous shrub of arid Mediterranean regions also known as “Christ’s Thorn”. The trip target CTB only occurs in places where it co-exists with this foodplant, and is very localised in this part of Spain. To reach the site we travelled through even less attractive landscapes obliterated as far as the eye could see in every direction by green houses. I had not seen such mass factory farming of fruit and vegetables before, and was quite taken aback. The only structures that here and there rose above endless expanses of plastic sheeting stretched across sometimes quite ramshackle frames were as bleak and functional apartment blocks. Coastal Andalucía, one of the driest zones of Iberia, is not a visually pleasing environment.

We arrived at our destination on Friday (1st) beneath deeply overcast skies but that would not apparently be an issue. This tiny butterfly would still be active we were told, and less inclined to move around much. Indeed the group soon located some 20 – 30 specimens. Flying from April through to September, these are said to be difficult to track when fully active, so we were indeed viewing them in easier conditions. There is a Little Tiger Blue in the Balkan region and a third species that is confined to north Africa, but these are very difficult to separate on appearance in the field. The male top side is violet blue, and females unsurprisingly brown.

Desert Orange Tip

Things had not been so straightforward with the tour’s first target. A day earlier (30th) we were taken to what was described as Europe’s best DOT site; a steep, land-filled former rubbish tip near the coastal town of Castell de Ferro. And having connected only badly we went back on 1st before heading further east to Cabo de Gata. On both occasions I was the first to call the butterfly, and my picture (below) was the only one gained by any group member. Indeed it may have been the single individual present, though many more DOT are said to migrate here by the autumn, attracted by the exclusive foodplant Caper (Capparis spinosa).

European distribution is tightly linked to the presence of that larval host, which in Iberia is restricted to hot, rocky places and very patchy. In my experience, always hyperactive Orange Tips cannot be converted quickly. It may require a whole day or several attempts to acquire good pictorial records of settled butterflies. That issue is compounded by the unsafe gradient of this particular site, since observers other than qualified mountain goats must stick to the main track that runs through it, wait for butterflies to come to them and hope they settle. Whether or not the heat-adapted, arid zone DOT might survive the winter here depends on local temperatures, and numbers in spring typically vary from year to year.

Sooty Orange Tip was also on the tour wish list, being cited as possible at several places we visited, but we didn’t find any. My impression was there are no predictable sites, and you just have to be lucky. Even then, finding settled subjects and gaining pictorial records must be quite difficult and random.

Aetherie and Spanish Fritillaries

On Saturday (2nd) we relocated inland to a base just outside the town of Antequera. The so often bleak, industrialised south coast was now left behind, and we were at a gateway to scenic and uplifting montane habitat that contained possibly the tour’s two top prizes. These are described as being amongst Europe’s rarest Fritillaries, being more widespread though still difficult to find in north-west Africa. Both have a foothold in Andalucía, and there is also a small population of the first in Sicily.

There are several clusters of the highly localised Aetherie Fritillary (pictured above) in the region, and the one we were taken to on Sunday (4th) was a stretch of wild flower-rich roadside that was discovered two years ago by one of Mariposa’s own surveyors. The 2025 tour group connected with small numbers there, but on this day our guides estimated there could be more than 100 individuals present. In appearance the species (see here) possibly most closely resembles the more familiar Glanville Fritillary. It flies in April and May.

A day later we visited what was for me the tour’s most spectacular location, Alto de Hondenero where there is a mirador (viewpoint) and car park at the top of a long and in places quite rough track. I would only have attempted the ascent in a four wheel drive, but our guides were practiced at getting the tour minibuses up there. A downhill walk onward then brought us to a hotspot for Spanish Fritillary (see here). That quite stunning item is single brooded in April and May, and is very loyal to established territories.

The constraint with this butterfly is it only flies in temperatures above 21 deg C, which makes locating it difficult at the altitude it also favours. The specimen in the top pictures (above) was netted and jarred by our (licensed) guide then released when the sun went in again so it would be unlikely to fly off straight away. The species is similar in appearance to Marsh Fritillary, though more boldly and attractively marked. The lower row includes an example (right) of the Iberian race beckeri of the latter, for comparison.

Provence Hairstreak

The failure in butterfly terms of my solo trip to Malaga in March 2024 (see here) has rankled ever since. Back then, hoping to self-find the early-flying PH and some other regional specialties, I instead spent three days largely on my back or the bog in a hotel room battling the attentions of El Montezuma; and weather conditions outside were hardly conducive to my quest either. Compensating for this was the prime motivation for, against my usual disinclination joining a group tour offering some of the same species.

As we were leaving Alto de Hondonero one of the group indeed found an elderly PH, it being the very end of their flight season. In pristine condition this curious species, one of Europe’s earliest flying butterflies, is said to resemble a fusion of Green Hairstreak and Small Copper (see here). When the opportunity arose I was desperate to obtain the above picture, faded as the specimen is. It represents the lifting of a lot of frustration for me, and in the event provided a tremendous release.

Other butterflies:

Three Blues of interest to my trip agenda were observed in good numbers. Like this post’s lead items, the diminutive Lorquin’s Blue occurs only very locally in parts of south-west Iberia, the main populations being in northern Morocco and Algeria. I had recorded it once before in Portugal in 2014. Single brooded in April and May, the species favours warm, dry, wildflower rich limestone grassland such as Alto de Hondenero. It is described as the regional equivalent of the familiar Small Blue. Those two species do not overlap in their range and share the same foodplant, Kidney Vetch.

I had observed the Anatolian sub-species of Black-eyed Blue before in Turkey in 2019, but not the butterfly listed in Collins until now. The latter ranges across most of the Iberian peninsula and southern France, as well as far north-western Africa, sharing the same flight period and habitat with Lorquin’s. The unf shows an arc of large, dark spots and both wings have pale submarginal markings. The male upper side is a bright, reflective but rather slaty blue; while females are brown above with varying amounts of blue, and lack the orange spots of other species in this family. 

At Parque Eόlico Padul, another Spanish Fritillary hotspot, on Saturday (3rd) one of the few butterflies on the wing in overcast conditions was Panoptes Blue. This further small item inhabits dry, scrubby places across much of Iberia but not elsewhere in Europe. It flies low to the ground and seldom far from adopted patches from April to June, with a second brood in July and August. The food plant is Thyme. I had self-found it previously in Portugal in 2014.

Something I wanted to do on this tour was to add images to the Rn’S gallery, under expert guidance, of Green-striped White, Western and Portuguese Dappled Whites. That triple aim was indeed realised (pictured below).

Of these quite similar Pieridae (the same group as the more familiar Bath White) the first two are fairly common and widespread in the Iberian region, but I had just one previous, quite poor picture of GSW from Portugal in 2014. I recorded the separated Eastern species of Dappled White in Greece in 2019. The lifer PDW (see here), a markedly smaller butterfly than Western that flies only in April and May, is highly localised and difficult to find. Several sub-species are described across its range from north Africa through the Iberian peninsular, southern France, into north and central Italy.

Other butterflies recorded again on the tour have already featured in this journal, either from Portugal at the bottom end of the trip reports tab, or the south of France in various posts that regularly attract referrals. The full species list this time (with lifers* in bold) was: (Swallowtail), (Iberian Scarce Swallowtail var feisthamelii), Spanish Festoon, Black-veined White, Large White, Small White, Bath White, Western Dappled White*, Portuguese Dappled White*, Green-striped White, (Wood White), Provence Orange Tip, Desert Orange Tip*, (Berger’s Clouded Yellow), Clouded Yellow, Cleopatra, (Blue-spot Hairstreak), Provence Hairstreak*, Small Copper, Long-tailed Blue, Lang’s Short-tailed Blue, Common Tiger Blue*, Holly Blue, Lorquin’s Blue, Black-eyed Blue*, Panoptes Blue, Southern Brown Argus, (Chapman’s Blue), Adonis Blue, Southern Common Blue (f celina), Monarch, Red Admiral, Painted Lady, Knapweed Fritillary, Aetherie Fritillary*, Spanish Fritillary*, Marsh Fritillary (race beckeri), Western Marbled White, Spanish Marbled White, Meadow Brown, Spanish Gatekeeper, Small Heath, Speckled Wood (ssp aegeria), (Wall Brown), Rosy Grizzled Skipper, (Red Underwing Skipper), Sage Skipper, Mallow Skipper, False Mallow Skipper, Lulworth Skipper, Small Skipper – total 43 + (8 observed by other group members but not myself).

For my last two nights in the Canary Islands I rented a studio apartment near Tenerife South airport and early on Saturday morning took a Binter Canarias flight to Gran Canaria. The objective was to record the latter island’s large endemic lizard. These are common and widespread across GC and especially favour rocky ravines (barrancos) and coastal plains. I had researched a number of sites within 20 minutes drive of the airport and headed for the closest one that was also cited as the best hotspot.

An 8km (5 mile) drive in discouragingly overcast conditions brought me to the Barranco de Guayadeque, an immense geological feature stretching for a further 11or so km north-westward from the town of Ingenio, and one of the largest ravines on the island. I stopped at the first suitable place for roadside parking I found, immediately below which a trail ran along the valley floor, and walked up the barranco then down. I realized I was in excellent reptile habitat, with in particular several piles of dried cut reeds on top of rock strewn areas (pictured below). By 10 am the weather was brightening from the north, I began to hear tell tale rustlings and then to catch glimpses of scuttling lizards of varying hues.

All of a sudden there he was: a large male Gran Canaria Giant Lizard (Gallotia stehlini – lead picture) basking atop a boulder. This was not a full-grown male that are big, bristly beasts indeed, but still pretty impressive. The species can reach up to 27cm from snout to vent with the tail twice as long again, but 18cm is more typical. Mature males develop imposing heads and jowls, with characteristically deep orange cheeks. Occurring in a wide range of habitats, they are sedentary and aggressive towards one another. Lifespan can be up to 12 years. I sat down in communion with this individual for some time.

Realising I had quite by chance found such a suitable location, I felt no inclination to move on anywhere else. I was in my element again here, just me and the wildlife in spectacular scenery, the situation I most prefer; and through the late morning conditions were warm and sunny. After a while my male slipped back into cover, then partially emerged again (below, left).

At intervals I walked up and down the same stretch of track with its rocks and reed piles, but it seemed that the day having warmed up lizards were now mostly content to keep out of sight. Occasionally one would stop and keep still though, and I gained these very pleasing studies of females or immatures (below).

Eventually I went back to my hire car to retrieve, and if necessary share sandwiches I had stocked up with at the airport. But unlike the Tenerife Lizard at El Portillo visitor centre, my male showed no interest in the titbits I tried to tempt him back out of cover with. He soon approached but came no closer than in the right hand picture higher up this post. In the early afternoon I indeed came to tire of the situation and so decided to leave. And with no signal to set Google maps with I then made the mistake of driving further up the ravine, not downward.

Emerging from my wildlife idyll, a sea of humanity had accumulated on the road above. But these people were not here to walk the trails or enjoy nature. I have been in the situation before where scenic locations I go to observe wildlife by late morning become overwhelmed by the number of visitors and vehicles they attract. Further on from where I stopped there are a number of restaurants that must have an avid following. Either side of each venue cars lined the roadsides while fashionably dressed people milled about and queued to gain admittance, something I myself would never do.

Since there was no phone signal down in the ravine I wondered how on earth these glitterati might occupy themselves until tables became available. Eventually things grew scary when the narrow road ahead of two adjacent eating places was closed on an incline, and cars including my own had to turn round while still more poured in from behind. After some nervous moments I high-tailed it out of there.

With around 90 minutes remaining till I needed to get back to the airport and return my car, I opted to drive up to the island’s north-east corner and back, to see a little of Gran Canaria so I thought. But I wasn’t impressed by what I encountered, things seeming quite overdeveloped with little of Tenerife’s charm and allure. The western parts of this island are of course the wild side. It was very fulfilling to have come here by myself and self-found my quest at the first attempt, and I may return for longer at some future time.

This journal’s 2026 season opens with some special herpetora. My admittedly self-punishing preference for evolution over repetition now restricts potential for short-haul breaks. But upon becoming aware of the Canary Islands’ very particular suite of reptiles, a workable solo expedition in the Rn’S tradition suggested itself. I put together a detailed itinerary aimed at covering the major species of three islands in five days. This was mostly using MS Copilot, but whereas initially I had wondered (ie marvelled) at the AI technology, I now merely wonder just how accurate it can be relied upon to be.

Tenerife and Gran Canaria have distinct large lizards that were my top targets. Depending on the level of detail individual observers might prefer, each Canary Island also has its own sub-species of Skink and nocturnal Gecko. There is just one small lacertid (on Gran Canaria) and a few introduced items to look out for. And the holy grail for this trip would be the endangered and difficult to locate Tenerife Speckled (or Intermediate) Lizard (Gallotia intermedia), that I really wasn’t confident about connecting with. As I suspected, a visit to the Teno NP information centre confirmed this last species’ c500 remaining individuals are mostly confined to coastal cliff ledges where they keep out of danger from predation, and few other than authorised biologists know where they are (see here).

Once in the field on Tenerife it soon became clear that doing everything in five days was an over-ambitious plan. I had begun with a day trip to La Gomera (Tue), where I inexplicably dipped that island’s default species Boettger’s Lizard (see here), said to be common everywhere. The weather was right and I found ideal habitat, but only crossed paths with one small candidate that I couldn’t get pictures of. I will say no more here and look into the failure.

What that electronic briefing had not prepared me for was the micro-climate in north-west Tenerife where I stayed for two nights (Wed and Thu). The above picture was taken on a coastal path between Los Silos and Buenavista del Norte, one of two Tenerife Lizard sites I had researched. So whilst the south coast beach resorts bathed in 26 deg sunshine, I realised quite a contrast is probably more the norm where I was, as the grey stuff stacks up against the vast bulk of the Teno massif; just as it invariably does on a smaller scale when I visit the Chilterns escarpment at home. The habitat was once more ideal for reptiles, but lizards were not likely to show themselves in such conditions. Then re-crossing the high tops, my base just south of the massif, Santiago del Teide was sunlit. Second lesson learned.

After giving up on the north coast sites during Thursday, I went in the afternoon to Erjos on the massif’s eastern flank. Earlier in the day a Teno NP ranger had advised me to look for Tenerife’s endemic pigeons on the TF-53 trail south-west into what is described as the island’s finest laurel forest, that those birds favour. Instead what should I self-find but four Tenerife Lizard (Gallotia galloti), a male and three females / immatures. My demoralisation lifted at once, the trip was now rescued, and I lost all interest in pigeons for the day. I had already recorded my first Blue Chaffinch here, one of four WestPal bird list additions on this trip.

There is a great range in both size (up to 14.5cm from snout to vent) and pattern of male Tenerife Lizards. This one (above) was quite small but looks bigger in the picture, possibly a second summer individual, with the paler colouration typical of reptiles in the island’s north (per Collins). He scuttled into his burrow from trackside on seeing me coming, then didn’t come further out than shown, despite darting back in several more times during our communion. Otherwise he was content just to rest there stock still. This default species for Tenerife occurs in all wild and cultivated habitats on the island, sometimes reaching high densities and being considered a pest. I assumed the lizard pictured below is a female or immature male, and Teno information centre has confirmed that.

Walking up from Erjos to the high part of the trail, I had crossed paths with some very small lizards scurrying in and out of cover (pictured below, top). At first I thought they must be Skinks, but on reviewing my pictures realized they were not. Teno Information Centre has confirmed these are indeed juvenile Gallotia galloti, so in this place I had encountered Mama, Papa and the bambinos. I assume the last would probably have hatched in late autumn last year. In such a benign climate lizards do not truly hibernate, merely becoming more selectively active through the winter months, and on appearances not growing very much.

On Friday morning (17th) I paid attention to rough land adjacent to Santiago del Teide cemetario, that Mariposa visits on its butterfly tour here. Once more, in two dry, stony places I found numbers of hyperactive small lizards (above) that my source again confirmed as juvenile Gallotia galloti. Unfortunately I then stepped into a pothole while looking around, tripped and fell onto my telephoto lens, damaging it beyond repair. The afternoon plan of visiting El Teide NP, the big volcano, immediately became second priority to securing a replacement lens. After a lunch break and leaving my holiday let I drove to the nearest high-end camera shop in Costa Adeje to the south-west and quickly sourced another one. I couldn’t face the prospect of going to Gran Canaria for stage three of this trip unequipped.

Time remained for a very quick visit to Teide NP before my scheduled car hire return. Tenerife has a very diverse and scenic mix of landscapes, but that around the caldera is simply spectacular. On and on I drove through vast moonscapes of lava flows and rock formations, all free on this day from settled cloud, but there was no time for picture taking. At El Portillo visitor centre I asked where I might see Blue Chaffinches and was directed to a small man-made pond in the botanical garden where the birds come to drink. There I sat down on a low wall to eat the only sandwiches I had found all week (in a Carrefour Express), and that at once attracted the attention of a group of several adult Gallotia galloti.

Jumping up to take pictures I left a bite-sized morsel on the wall. That was soon taken by a large, blue-toned male (pictured above) that emerged and crept up on its snack. I had read that in places where they are used to people these lizards become inquisitive and approachable, and that was true here. Soon afterwards I saw the thief heading into cover with a larger titbit that had been lying on the ground. It seemed this probable dominant male of the group had first refusal on such available food. After that he didn’t emerge into the open again.

The less boldly marked males in the sequence below and this post’s lead picture were the next largest of the group, and the ones that posed the most readily. Immature males closely resemble females, especially in their first year, before developing characteristic larger heads with broader jaws, bulkier body size and blue flank patches.

Tenerife Lizards (Gallotia galloti)

So after two initial days of frustration I was now finding my quests everywhere I went. That must indicate just how abundant Tenerife Lizard is on the island of its name, and there really had been no need to research in advance those north coast sites. Through this past travel free winter I had often thought I would like to do longer trips again if I can find somewhere that may be suitably motivating without the wildlife having to be new and different.

Three days in the beautiful landscapes of north-west Tenerife was barely sufficient to scratch the surface of what might be enjoyed there. Having found an ideal holiday let this time I may well return for longer and seek to do things justice. I have often said herein that I love all reptiles and especially lizards. This week was difficult … but it worked.

A mainland Nearctic wader as close to home as Hampshire was a national and Westpal tick not to miss, and likewise Adam’s offer to Ewan and myself to do the driving when news broke a day earlier. The location was an agricultural irrigation facility on farmland between Ringwood to the north and Christchurch on the coast. That site has a niche reputation in local county birding for producing occasional quality records, and this Killdeer must be it’s finest moment to date.

Ripley Farm Reservoir (50.7924,1.7741 – SZ158994) is viewable from a public right of way running westward from a hamlet of the same name. We arrived in the early afternoon to join around 30 other birders and our quest was visible distantly but clearly, hunched on the ground looking away from us and to one side. It had been quite still there for more than an hour but before too long got up and walked around, offering good views. The double breast band and long tail clearly distinguish this species on the ground from Ringed Plover for instance, and today’s bird preened at times to reveal its as distinctive bright rufous-brown rump. This is a very common shorebird in its home range, much more likely to occur in western or northern offshore locations here. So to observe one inland in southern England is quite special.

Killdeer is an abundant resident across north America (see here) where it breeds in similar grassland habitats to Northern Lapwing in Europe. It owes the rather brutal sounding name to its sharp and often repeated alarm call, a classic example of onomatopoeic bird nomenclature such as Kittiwake, Cuckoo, Chiffchaff or Bobolink. This post’s sighting is the 22nd in the British Isles so far this century, and there are typically only between two and five records each year across western Europe as a whole.

Today’s Killdeer © and courtesy of Adam Hartley

Adam was able to digiscope the above records of the sort of clarity everyone present must have been gaining in continuous light rain. At one point while the assembly was waiting for the main attraction to stand up and perform, a White-tailed Eagle from the Isle of Wight release scheme drifted by giving everyone a bonus bird for the day.

Had I done this twitch alone I would have combined it with converting the ship-assisted Great-tailed Grackle that has been present in Hampshire this winter since early November. And fortunately my two companions, though having seen it previously were of the same mind. After making landfall at Calshot near the mouth of Southampton Water this bird settled in a residential street at Holbury, close by the brooding presence of Fawley oil refinery, Great Britain’s largest that supplies around 20 per cent of national capacity. There it has been much-twitched on a daily basis ever since.

Team Grackle and the pole-top bird, with guidance from the late, great (cheat) Diego Maradona

As soon as we arrived at the street in question, Adam pointed and said: “There it is.” And there indeed the Grackle was, perched atop a structure in the nearest garden. It then moved from one telegraph pole to another around us, but being no doubt well fed here it wasn’t tempted down to the ground so late in the day by Adam’s offering of flapjack. The light was terrible so I could only gain blurred records with my phone (above, left), and the subject looked some way short of its usual smart self on such a wet day. But when conditions brightened a little I could discern the celebrity visitor’s metallic, midnight-blue sheen, reminiscent perhaps of my own, much-loved Vauxhall Corsa. For the RBA gallery of this bird see here.

Being extremely approachable I had not considered devoting a special trip to this second Nearctic item, waiting instead for something to combine it with, and now that opportunity had been realised. As a non-purist I am content to add it to my British list as a non-BOU record. And having seen only Boat-tailed Grackle of three related species, that this bird was initially identified as, during my past trip to Florida I see no reason not to consider it a lifer too. Hence I counted my 528th Western Palearctic bird on a very enjoyable if rainy day out.

In recent days two stable and twitchable western Palearctic birds have prompted me to pay some attention to my national list, that still hovers a little way within my career ambition of 400 species. A Lesser Crested Tern from Africa or beyond arrived in Devon’s Exe estuary on 3rd, then three days later a vagrant Scops Owl was discovered at a suburban recreation ground in Swansea. Both items appeared to find their adopted surroundings to their liking, having provided daily observations on the bird information services each day since.

My beloved park home has undergone extensive refurbishment during November, and I have been pre-occupied with related DIY matters of late. But having reached a convenient pausing point in all that whilst feeling a certain degree of pent-up energy, I elected to burn some of it off through a 478-mile round trip to convert these birds for Blighty. I had recorded the Tern once previously in Morocco (2015) and Scops Owl twice in Sardinia (2018) and Turkey (2019).

The logical itinerary was to try for the Owl (pictured above) first. Then in the morning the round trip’s shortest leg would get me to the Tern at high tide, in a spot where my second quest had become reliable. The outward journey grew stressful when I lost both Bluetooth connectivity and a stable internet signal along the South Wales M4, then Google Maps guided me through the centre of Swansea in the rush hour and back out via a rather tortuous shortest route, with phone balanced upon knee. How dependent I am for my well being upon such technologies I reflected once again. But when I arrived on site at Dunvant Park (SA2 7QU – 51.6197,-4.0221) shortly after 5pm the Owl had yet to be seen.

I joined a group of around 20 hopeful observers, amongst whom was Adam (see here) as arranged. The gathering was very well marshaled by local birders and everyone behaved sensibly. The initial strategy was to all keep together in one place and hope the bird would come to us, while those equipped with thermal imagers scanned for it, rather than walking around randomly. But after an hour by 6pm the lead marshal suggested we split into smaller groups and keep in touch. Fortunately I joined the one that took the driest path and soon put up the foraging Scops Owl on the ground amongst trees.

By now the initial numbers of birders had probably doubled. It had been agreed that when located the bird would be lit up for no more than 30 seconds then given sufficient time and space to continue feeding before being disturbed again. The lead marshall shone a torch just below the Owl as it perched in a small tree so everyone saw it well as in this post’s lead picture, then a proportion of observers including myself dispersed. All this had certainly been a quite different kind of and unusual birding experience. I had expected to be searching up in tall tree tops, but this particular Scops Owl kept lower down.

The diminutive Eurasian Scops Owl breeds from southern Europe eastwards to southern Siberia and the western Himalayas. Europe forms approximately 57% of that total range, holding between 226,000 and 380,000 pairs. The species inhabits open woodland, parks and gardens, often nesting in suitable holes in trees or walls; and normally winters in sub-Saharan Africa. At 19 – 21cm in length it is slightly smaller than the familiar, British resident Little Owl. Largely nocturnal it feeds mainly on insects, worms and other invertebrates. The Swansea bird is the 44th accepted British record, and 13th so far this century.

My thanks are due to Mark Hipkin for marshaling the twitch so expertly and responsibly, without which I would certainly not have made this connection. Also to Jim Hutchins, the Standlake Birder (see here) for kindly granting me permission to illustrate this post with his own best record that shows exactly how I too observed this bird.

Friday morning (12th) in Devon offered refreshingly cool and sunny conditions, and the 137-mile run from my overnight stay in Port Talbot to the Exe estuary was congestion free. From the parking area at RSPB Exminster Marshes (50.67618, -3.46883 – SX 963873) I walked south for about a kilometre along the Exeter Canal towpath to Turf Lock (50.66489, -3-46760 – SX 964859) that gives access to the waterway from the estuary. Beyond is a hotel / pub and a flat spit of land from where my quest had been viewed for most of this week. Here it perched on offshore buoys at high tide, fed on the mud at low tide and often roosted on a pontoon.

When I arrived at around 11:30 am the Lesser Crested Tern was atop the second green buoy to the right of the boat in the above picture, the visible white dot. And there it contentedly remained, alternately preening, dozing and looking about itself for the next hour. Then it was put up by a passing fast boat and after a fly around re-located to a closer buoy, and I gained some recognizable record shots (below). When after 30 more minutes it was flushed again by a group of paddle boarders, I opted to start the 160 mile journey home. But even as I left the bird had returned to the same buoy.

Lesser Crested Tern is one of three similar, orange-billed species that occur in north-west Africa, and also breeds in parts of the Mediterranean, Red Sea, Arabian Gulf and Indian Ocean. The most significant wintering grounds are east African coasts, the Arabian peninsular and the western Indian sub-continent. A very rare vagrant this far north, the Exe estuary bird is only the second British record this century and just the ninth accepted national record, one of which was famously serial over 14 breeding seasons.

My time spent with it was very relaxed in a pleasant, scenic setting – the epitome of winter coastal birding! Walking back to my car I scanned here and there plentiful arrays of wildfowl and waders across the pleasingly lit floods of Exminster Marshes, to complete the hoped for restorative effect of this entire exercise.

NB. My British bird list now stands at 387. I appear to have acted just in time as neither of these birds was seen on 13th or 14th, or indeed in these locations since.

As the fungi season wound down for another year, the prospect of a full fair weather day on 13th, ahead of a washout Friday and working weekend, sent me out again to track more autumn subjects. But with leaf fall nearly complete finding anything on the forest floor would be difficult, so I headed out to a Chilterns’ site that usually yields some interesting deadwood rotters. Those I had in mind were Wrinkled Peach and the deadly poisonous Funeral Bell, but on my way up to where I had recorded those items previously I stumbled upon a quite spectacular prospect.

Stopping to check out a gone-over coral fungus on a fallen log, I noticed numerous large, dark shapes partially hidden but nonetheless emergent out of the omnipresent leaf litter in the ground beyond. These were as I suspected Horn of Plenty (Craterellus cornucopioides) that is described as not uncommon but localised, and often abundant where it does occur. The last was certainly true as looking around I detected more and more of them, having previously encountered this fungus on just two occasions. They are robust and can be difficult to detect, since though fruiting at all times of year they last very late in the season when leaves are down.

Once seen this remarkable mushroom’s distinctive grey and black tones and subtle, intriguing contours set it apart from all others. It is most often found under Beech trees as here, but is also associated with Oaks. The alternative name used in France, “Trompette de la Mort” (Trumpet of Death), seems incongruous since these are a highly desirable edible mushroom; hence I will not name the site. Death references in fungal common names usually denote highly toxic items, but the explanation here lies in ancient folklore where the fruiting bodies’ dark and sinister tones were attributed to the buried dead connecting with the living by playing these trumpets emerging from the ground. In North America the common name is “Black Trumpet”. This fungus has a worldwide distribution.

If the dead really did play trumpets from under the ground it might look something like this

I messaged two associates and Ewan, being quite near while having an unproductive morning’s birding, came to join me (see here). In the meantime I had located a large fallen log that was adorned by large numbers of King Alfred’s Cakes (Daldinia concentrica). These saprobic fungi (ie deadwood rotters) were in both the young mauve form and black, burnt state that gives them their common name, all mixed together. This was a find I had been hoping to make all autumn, and my most profuse to date.

King Alfred’s Cakes

These hard, inedible fungi are also known as “Cramp Balls”. since carrying them was once thought to be a cure for cramp attacks. The pale specimens shown above are still growing, and during this asexual stage they develop and release spores over a long period. Once fully grown the fruit bodies turn black, hence the likeness to the hapless king’s burnt cakes in that old folk tale. Quantities of spores are released at this stage that typically blacken the surrounding host deadwood (above right). All saprobic fungi such as this feed upon and hence break down decaying organic material then recycle nutrients into the surrounding ecosystem.

When mushroom hunting I always get a special buzz if I find something that my phone app ID’s as deadly. I have possibly located the quite scarce but highly toxic Funeral Bell (Gallerina marginata – pictured below on 21st Oct) at this site in each of the last two seasons. The name tells all that needs to be known, since this item contains the same lethal toxins as the infamous Deathcap (Amanita phalloides – see here), that accounts for more than 90 per cent of fungus-related poisoning fatalities in Europe.

The catch is that Funeral Bell closely resembles an edible deadwood rotter Sheathed Woodtuft (Kuehneromyces mutabilis – above), also known as “Brown Stew Fungus” that is collected by some brave foragers and also abounds at this site. So my FB ID may not be accurate and in the absence of due scientific analysis I am open to correction. But I would not wish to test the more definite way of separating the two. Intriguing fungi indeed!

On a brighter note, I have also located Wrinkled Peach (see here for detail) whenever I have visited this Chilterns’ Beechwood. On 21st October I Iocated some typical clusters on the same fallen, presumably Elm logs as previously. By 13th November what remained was no longer really worth looking at, but this is always an attractive find due to its very particular colouration and growth habit.

Wrinkled Peach

Blackening Waxcap on 6th (left) and 13th (right) November, with Meadow Waxcaps (centre)

Having had our fill from the Horn of Plenty on 13th Ewan and I moved on to Nettlebed Churchyard in the Oxon Chilterns (see here), where given this autumn’s more limited available time I have maintained my interest in Waxcaps, sometimes referred to as the “Orchids of the fungi kingdom”. There one particularly fine Blackening Waxcap (Hygrocybe conica – pictured above), that I had tracked twice previously and what a stunner, made an apt tailpiece to this journal’s 2025 fungi content and it’s variously dark, purple and mysterious themes.

The stand-out experience of this year’s autumn fungi season has been my self-location and subsequent tracking of two uber-scarce Violet Webcap mushrooms (Cortinarius violacea) at one of just a few ancient woodland sites in the Chilterns where they are considered a notable find. I had recorded one there previously in each of 2020 and 21 but not since, despite searching. Now on 7th Oct I found and immediately felt attached to a pristine emerging specimen, and resolved to monitor its progress in the weeks ahead.

In the British Isles this is described as a rare entity, growing in calcareous woodland habitats mainly under Beech but also other broadleaf trees. It is considered a striking and unusual fungus, being dark purple in tone when young, with fibrous stems, and caps reaching 15cm at maturity on up to 12cm stems. I have corresponded with the mycologist who first recorded the species at this site, who said it caused quite a stir at the (unspecified) time when a specimen was sent to RHS Kew. Since then it has re-occurred at intervals but not in every calendar year.

Young Violet Webcap #1

My first specimen when young had a certain suggestive quality when viewed from one side, such as I rather like to emphasise herein, reminiscent perhaps of a bare-buttocked garden fountain figure (above right). Returning three days later on 10th a second fruit had emerged nearby, while the now mature first had reached the round-headed convex stage (pictured below). As it matures this fungus typically develops a distinctive lump in the centre of the cap. I made protective “wigwams” around both my finds (centre) with garden canes and twine, and through the remainder of this post’s duration, quite remarkably neither specimen was troubled either by mollusc munching or human hands.

Mature Violet Webcap #1

As with various other mushrooms featured in this journal, past posts that are becoming increasingly well referred to, I attempted to record the full fruiting cycle through a series of visits over 24 days. The following gallery presents this for the second specimen, showing a typical sequence of shapes to those other described subjects. By 30th Oct both my adopted mushrooms had lost their special violet lustre and were beginning to go over.

Violet Webcap #2

Cortinarius violacea occurs throughout Europe, where it is widespread but nowhere common, and is listed as endangered nationally. Other populations are distributed across the northern hemisphere in North America, mostly associated with coniferous trees, and Asia. Everywhere they are associated with acidic ground and form ectomycorrhizal relationships (see here) with the roots of various trees and shrubs. For further scientific detail on the species see here.

My final visit to the Chilterns’ site was on 6th Nov, by when both the objects of my past 30 days’ attention were in a collapsed state (pictured below). Autumn leaf fall from the tree cover was well advanced, and not much presentable fungi was still visible on the forest floor. I gathered up my makeshift wigwams and went upon my way for another year. The entire fruiting cycle of an extraordinary mushroom had thus been duly recorded and without interference. I expect I may return here in 2026.

This has at length given me something to blog about. In case fellow Oxon naturalists might have wondered where I’ve got to recently, I have been working part-time for up to four days a week in retail since late August, which might possibly help to fund park home improvements and future travel. I will never fill out this journal with repetitive content for its own sake. Things must evolve. I have managed to put a meaningful wildlife agenda in place once more for spring and early summer 2026, as in the quite exceptional first half of this year. Watch this space!