My motivation for local birding is currently at an all time low, unless something new and different thrusts itself outward, but it would hardly be credible to have gone through the current winter without observing any Waxwings. The well-documented, national Scandinavian berry bandit invasion took its time to reach my home county (see here), but there have been frequent and widespread sightings through this year’s first two months. I myself dipped them three times until this morning, when I was at last successful.

The issue with these birds in my view is they are difficult to twitch, being most usually mobile around wide feeding circuits. In other words, once you get there they’ve gone. I have been occupied with other interests and extra work shifts recently, and so have not found the time or urge to wait around in residential settings for them to come round again. With the hopefully more reliable groups I carefully selected, first I failed to connect in January with one just outside Thame; then another in north Oxford, close by Port Meadow. More recently a nine-strong flock has been reported fairly regularly by my birding colleague Andy and others in two locations in north Abingdon. I failed to find them again at the first attempt, but somehow felt lucky on this cold and clear morning.

My hunch about today proved to be not unfounded. Walking away from my car at the junction of Dunmore Road and Parsons Mead, close to where I lived for 14 years between 1986 and 2000, I saw a photographer on the far side of what had then been Abingdon’s northern outer ring road. His lens was trained upon a Poplar tree top by a football pitch, where a second local colleague, Sally had connected with the Waxwings a day earlier. He was clearly onto my quest and I went over to join him. Soon the birds flew back to another tree top at that road junction where they had been reported most often.

Cue WhatsApps or calls to Oxon Birding administrator Badger, Andy, Sally and Ewan. For around 30 minutes I then watched these birds descend at intervals onto Hawthorn hedges on the opposite side of Dunmore Road. This was clearly by now a diminishing food source, which explains why at this late stage of winter Waxwings are so much more difficult to locate in one place. All the while these delightful visitors’ distinctive and evocative trills would emanate from the air overhead.

During the previous comparable Waxwing winter just over 10 years ago I was still doing mail order deliveries, and being out and about around Oxford each day, such trills would reveal Waxwings here and there without my having to go out specifically to look for them. My possibly most satisfying past encounter of all was in 2003 when the same sound announced a single bird in the south Oxford village suburb of Kennington, again whilst delivering parcels during what was not a Waxwing winter at all. Today’s birds at length moved on and I relocated to the nearby Aldi for this morning’s second purpose.

Having acquired a completely up-to-date computer with part of my albeit modest recent income from investments and part-time employment, I am now starting to find my way around, amongst other things Nikon’s current, free NX Studio picture editing download. It is much more advanced than what came on disc with the old technology SLRs I prefer. I never could get my head around Adobe Photoshop.

On reviewing my pictorial results, I found I had gained the type of berry in beak study (lead picture, above) that photographers prefer. I am not a photographer, preferring to style myself a wildlife enthusiast who takes pictures, but that one is still pleasing. The others posted herein are not close-ups, given my own equipment, but I feel they have context in conveying how I encountered these very attractive, visiting birds of the moment today. And my own sought experience for this English ‘Waxwing winter’ was thus complete.

February has been an exceptionally mild weather month this year in Blighty. Narcissi and Primroses are currently resplendent in my park home garden, alongside the usual earliest season Snowdrops and Crocuses. And when I was tipped off that the only Giant Orchid colony nationally is now viewable in my home county, I at once accepted the invitation to be guided there again.

I am not authorised to reveal this site’s location herein, but understand it is now generally known within informed Orchid circles. On 20th we found two plants in bloom and three more that were either on their way or blind. A year ago (see here) early spring was especially wet, not that current conditions are much less so. I had hoped this second, earlier experience might produce larger subjects, but that was not how things turned out. Here (below) are the pictorial results from my first visit.

The site is dangerously steep, and being asthmatic I found clambering around it more difficult than a year ago, even though my own condition has improved since then. Perhaps I am just getting a bit too old for all this. That day’s probably fitter companion, four years my senior, might possibly endorse the sentiment. But still we had to be there, to the puzzled glances and occasional attempts to engage of walkers along the top of the perilous slope. With mission accomplished we agreed it to be, however strenuous still easier than trying to connect with winter Waxwings around our county; since Orchids keep still, always show well when in bloom, and do not after being reported then absent themselves for much of the day.

Having made a first reconnoitre we left feeling these rare Orchids were some way from their peak, and might stand some waiting before warranting a second visit. I returned on 28th alone, since Ewan had sustained an injury. This time I was joined in the nearest car park by fellow Oxon naturalist David Hastings, who was visiting here for the first time. I felt glad of company given the treacherous nature of our destination.

When we reached it I edged down the slope on my backside, having come equipped with waterproof over-trousers for that purpose. About two-thirds of the way down there were now four Giant Orchid either in bloom or bud. The first specimen from eight days earlier (above left) was perhaps a little better developed, while the second was still largely as we had recorded it then. And away to one side were two more, both in bud, the newest of which (above right) was as yet uncaged. Once again and as last winter, these non-native plants all appeared to be receiving quite a battering from the English winter elements.

Getting back up the slope was not easy, and I pretty much crawled on my hands and knees. I prefer to take things slowly and ultra-cautiously like that rather than trying to keep upright, with the risk of slipping and getting injured. Once again I felt the newer specimens would repay inspection after another interval, but in the event could not summon the enthusiasm to make a third visit here.