I feel on a roll now. After two days taken up largely by writing, picture editing and housework following my Fuerteventura trip, I was ready for the road again by Tuesday (15th). The excess energy and inner tension that arise from a preference to stay active had built up again upon my return. To relieve it there was a choice of going for a tricky little lifer, Hume’s in East Sussex or trying again for the Norfolk Shorelarks. I opted for the former since they were nearer (115 cf 150 miles) and the latter were likely to stick around for longer.

Hume’s Leaf Warbler © rights of owner reserved

Holkham Shorelark (record shot)

Hume’s Leaf Warbler (also known as Hume’s Yellow-browed Warbler – pictured above, left) is one of three autumn drift migrant Warblers that still occur in Britain into mid-winter. The others are the closely related Yellow-browed and Dusky, both of which are on my British and hence Westpal and life lists. I had previously dipped Hume’s twice in Dorset exactly seven years ago, an experience that entailed staring at a dense bank of vegetation for hours for no reward.

That served to put me off going for another one until now, and so Hume’s lingered amongst three other regular drift migrants – Greenish and Marsh Warblers, and Olive-backed Pipit – that I still need and really ought to have gained by now. I anticipated today might be a necessary chore, involving getting through the most perennially traffic choked section of the M25 motorway (between the M40 and A3), then another unforgiving stake-out on site. But in the event I cannot recall the south-western M25 being so un-congested, and the connect was surprisingly simple as well.

A fortunate feeling grew further when upon my arrival on the northern edge of the port of Newhaven, around nine miles east of Brighton, a parking space awaited rather invitingly in the access road to the Hume’s site (TQ 44299 02192). There I did my credentials for becoming a proper birder typical harm by polishing off a particularly delicious pasty from Pease Pottage services on the A23, rather than running for the target. Thus sated, I then “sauntered” as is my wont into Riverside Park, a former landfill site and the location quoted on RBA.

Those directions said opposite a waste incinerator (that is actually on the far side of the river) and as I approached two other birders were walking away unsuccessfully. They advised me to listen for a call not unlike Pied Wagtail. Setting up my chair I next saw off an as tasty M&S Wensleydale and carrot chutney sandwich (more food!) before at last starting to go about things more seriously.

The young tree scrub habitat here on the re-generating landfill site looked excellent for warblers, but though less dense than that previous Dorset location there was also a lot of it in which the Hume’s might be skulking. Two more birders had now arrived and we all began to search in different places. Ever incorrigible, I moved my chair to a clearing from which I could scan a good area of habitat, Googled the bird to check on it’s diagnostics, then sat and waited. That seemed preferable to walking around and risking the bird flying off ahead as I went. Five hours in that forest park in Costa Calma had clearly had some influence on my mind set.

Blue Tit, Robin and Chaffinch all moved through, before after maybe 20 minutes I indeed heard a call such as had been described to me. A small and very different passerine, the Hume’s Leaf Warbler had landed in the top of the nearest clump of saplings, rather like in the outsourced picture below. Oh that I could always enjoy such luck, but on this occasion at least my laid back approach had paid dividends. It was now 13:25pm.

Hume’s Leaf Warbler © rights of owner reserved

Over the next 40 minutes the Hume’s came and went several more times, always announcing itself with a pronounced dsu-weet call. In this period more birders also congregated here and all got to see the Warbler well. I understand that vocalisation is the easiest way to identify Hume’s, since for non-expert observers such as myself the plumage closely resembles Yellow-browed (whilst being generally drabber). The species breeds in central Asia and the most extensive wintering area is the Indian sub-continent. Yellow-browed, from which Hume’s was separated by the BOURC in 1997, has a more northerly Siberian breeding range.

At 14:15pm it began to rain and most of the birders dispersed. Mindful of avoiding rush-hour traffic on the dreaded south-western M25 I now headed home, feeling immensely relieved at having laid this long-avoided and difficult lifer to rest. This day had been a hugely satisfying experience at the opposite end of the birding scale to those boring and frustrating 2012 sojourns in Dorset. Apparently I had made a wise choice of location as there have been six previous occurrences of HLW along the 18 mile stretch of coastline from Brighton eastward to Beachy Head since and including the first accepted British record in 1966.

========================

For a very informative guide to migrant leaf Warblers in Great Britain see here. And for a detailed, scientific paper on separating Hume’s and Yellow-browed in the field see here.

========================

Two days later on Thursday  (17th) I made a third attempt at the Holkham NNR Shorelarks on the north Norfolk coast, since missing them twice previously this winter still rather rankled. Given my current run of good form it seemed now might be the time to belatedly nail those too. Since my abandoned visit on 28th December (see here) a 20+ Shorelark flock, and up to 50+ Snow Buntings that I observed then, have been recorded regularly on RBA. Like the Buntings, the main attraction of the Larks for me was the comparatively large numbers involved, since I had only come across single figure groups in the past.

When I arrived at Lady Anne’s Drive just after 9.00 am a bitterly cold gale was blowing along the coast, which I suppose I should have anticipated. But I was wearing just about enough layers and so strode out defiantly to the roped off area at approx TF895455. There several other birders were already watching the Shorelark flock, so the connect was immediate this time and my luck was holding. At first the birds were too far away to get pictures of but then they moved quite close in … which was when I found my camera battery was flat. Oh dear! Cue a sinking feeling.

Back at the car park, having watched the Shorelarks for a while, I retrieved my camera charger and the on-site cafeteria proprietor very kindly rescued the situation while I warmed up again with a coffee and local pasty. Meanwhile a Lapland Bunting was discovered out at the sharp end, presumably amongst the Snow Bunting flock. On my walking out for the second time, the conditions had if anything deteriorated further with light snow flurries in the mix. But the Shorelarks were still present so today’s result despite my earlier faux pas was definitely meant.

Shorelark (all pictures)

Snow Buntings (both pictures)

Again the flock was mobile around the roped-off area, then once more they moved closer. Given the circumstances any sort of records would suffice, and the images (above, top row) purport to be no more than that. Local birders arriving now were naturally far more concerned with locating the Lapland Bunting. I neither picked it out nor came across anyone else who had seen it since that original report, but I did speak to the finders. The today 30+ Snow Bunting flock (above, bottom row) was active throughout.

My carelessness with the camera battery had at least ensured I spent all of my four hours parking time on site, but by the end of it I was glad to head back home. I think I might have had my fill of Holkham for this winter season, but I am taking the “arduous journey” to north Norfolk in my stride now, and those aforementioned Greenish Warbler and Buff-bellied Pipit perhaps seem a little more reachable.

This mini-break was my third visit to Fuerteventura. I came here previously in February 2015 for five days (see trip reports), then in December 2017 just for a weekend to twitch a Dwarf Bittern, possibly the desert island’s most renowned avian resident. I was one of the earlier Brits and first Oxon birder to go for what was then the fifth Westpal record. But the urgency of that madcap adventure was not in the end necessary as this celebrity has remained faithful to it’s adopted home to the north-west of Rosario and Fvta airport ever since. Experiencing the bird again was an important aim for this new trip.

Dwarf Bittern (adult male) at Barranco de Rio Cabras © and courtesy of Lars Theng

So Thursday morning (10th) found me driving out through the rugged though languid grandeur of the Fvta landscape heading for Barranco de Rio Cabras, the Bittern site. This river gorge runs close by an access road to a waste recycling plant off the FV20 main road. An approximate GPS from which to start searching for the DB is N28.4758′ W13.9030′. There I met two birders from Sweden who were unsure exactly where to look, so I took them out to the spot where I was successful those 13 months ago (see here).

As we walked across the stony plain from the road out to the Barranco the air overhead contained around nine Egyptian Vulture. This is a reliable location to find that raptor since they are attracted by the waste recycling plant. As we reached the gorge a similar number of Spoonbill flew out from it and circled around, the first I have seen here. Then we crossed the Barranco to watch for the Bittern in an area between two dams that it frequents regularly.

Cliff-face Hoopoe

Cliff-top Ruddy Shelduck

Barrancos such as this containing water in places act as a magnet for birds. Some of the more noticeable ones moving up and down on this occasion were Little Egret, Black-winged Stilt, Ruddy Shelduck, Little-ringed Plover and Common Snipe. A Hoopoe was active on the opposite cliff face, while Raven seemed omni-present overhead. After a while one of my companions went to search further downstream while the other remained with me.

When the call came to say the Dwarf Bittern had been located around 500 metres away the ensuing dash to connect was seriously off-piste. I could not keep up with Lars who had 20 years on me, and as I had seen the bird before it didn’t seem worth breaking an ankle or otherwise going arse over tit for. In the event I took just the one tumble, suffering no more than a bruised finger. None of this now is as easy as it used to be when I started birding abroad eight years ago.

Upon reaching the spot where the others were sitting, in a green and watery area of the barranco floor, the DB had gone back into cover. They had watched it feeding very closely and Lars had good images on his big lens HD camera. A tense wait then ensued without the bird re-emerging before my companions, being satisfied with their experience decided to move on. But as soon as they left I beheld the Dwarf Bittern striding out of cover again a little upstream from where I was sitting.

“Hello old friend … what have you been doing since we last met?”

Now this famous and iconic lone wanderer gave itself up to my camera for the second time. It was a rather more tranquil setting than the place upstream where I had observed the bird previously. And unlike then I was now completely alone with it and so able to enjoy especially meaningful communion. I watched and took pictures as the DB foraged along the water’s edge, practising it’s repertoire of Heron poses as it went and moving gradually upstream.

Dwarf Bittern (all pictures)

Though the habitat here clearly caters for this adult male’s sustenance I pondered upon what else might keep it in this adopted home: far from the usual range, away from his own kind and without a mate. Maybe there were similarities between us in these moments at the back of beyond. Whether or not such vagrants eventually return home is something I have thought over many times. Or do they either just settle where they have strayed, or as is more often the case die fairly soon? Might this solo Dwarf Bittern just have a low libido or could it be escaping a troubled relationship history? Perhaps I should stop there.

From close to where I was now a track led up the gorge side to the plain above, so the walk back to my car was much easier than the outward one. It now being early afternoon plenty of time remained to re-visit the lower end of Barranco de Rio Cabras where most of Fvta’s regular small passerines may be encountered. This is accessed via a dirt track from Playa Blanca, just off the FV2 road immediately south of Puerto del Rosario.

Spectacled Warbler

Fuerteventura Chat (fem)

Retracing a route I first trod in 2015, the first small birds I came across were some Spectacled Warbler (pictured above, left). And in amongst them were at least two Fuerteventura Chat (above, right), an island endemic without seeing which no visit here would be complete. A little further along two Trumpeter Finch landed just ahead of me but I could not get pictures before they went on their way. What were probably Berthelot’s Pipit and Lesser Short-toed Lark were buzzing about the arid habitat, being much more frequently heard than seen. And inevitably there were Spanish Sparrows.

Once I reached the barranco’s lowest dam, the height of water behind made it impossible to walk on north-west to the Dwarf Bittern site. Things seemed far less birdy here than in 2015, and so instead I took some time to pay attention to the remote location’s insect life. Odonata comprised Blue Emperor, Red-veined Darter, Broad Scarlet and Sahara Bluetail; the last of those being Fvta’s only damselfly. And as in other locations this week there were a lot of dark brown-toned Pyrausta moths.

Broad Scarlet (male)

Broad Scarlet (female)

Sahara Bluetail

Sahara Bluetail

Butterflies were represented by the same five polyvoltine species (all-year flyers) that I encountered throughout this trip: Painted Lady, Red Admiral, Clouded Yellow, Small White and African Grass Blue; the last of those being a welcome lifer. Everywhere I went I was impressed by the significant size variation in Painted Lady. All were smaller than the migrants that regularly reach Great Britain, but I wondered if the smallest of all were an endemic form. Having read things up that is not so. There is a second Painted Lady species in the Canaries but I did not find any of them. So I must assume the size of adult butterflies depends on how much individual larvae find to eat in this arid region.

Painted Lady (all pictures)

The trip lifer, African Grass Blue (pictured below) is one of the tiniest Blue species that is widespread and often common across much of north Africa and the Middle East, but extends into parts of southern Europe as well. It is discreet and very low flying, particularly favouring coastal localities in which irrigation maintains vegetation; but is also frequent in hot, dry habitats such as here. I also noticed this butterfly in the forest strip in Costa Calma while staking out the Allen’s Gallinule there.

African Grass Blue (all pictures)

African Grass Blue

African Grass Blue

Greenish Blacktip © and courtesy of Lars Theng

On the walk back I crossed paths with a few Greenish Blacktip (pictured above), another common north African butterfly that I had seen lots of in 2015 though most then were very worn. Like Orange Tip at home this restless and fast flying species is difficult to get pictures of. Tired from my day long exertions I couldn’t summon the energy to chase them across the rocky ground this time and so publishing my own images of GBT will have to wait.

Houbara Bustards on Tindaya Plain © and courtesy of Lars Theng (all pictures)

On Friday morning (11th) I couldn’t resist going again for Houbara Bustard on Tindaya Plain in Fvta’s north-east. On both my previous trips I had seen those local specialities further to the north nearer El Cotillo, but this time I opted for where most of the images published online come from. Arriving at first light I eventually observed three Houbaras in flight, and then another more distantly, but there were no roadside encounters such as I sought. That was rather annoying, especially as my Swedish associates of the previous day had photographed displaying males at 50 metres here (pictured above).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

After two hours of frustration I decided to drive north along the dirt road to El Cotillo, but ended up circuiting the north side of Mount Tindaya back to the main road from EC to La Oliva instead. The route I intended now appears to be blocked by a private open cast mining site. Though some of the vistas here were well worth the detour the overriding sentiment was of disappointment over the lack of Houbaras, so I continued on to La Oliva to refresh my spirits. This village is rather like an oasis in the desert and unusually wild flower rich for this island, and so once again my attention turned to butterflies.

There must be trillions of Painted Lady in Fuerteventura and here it would not be an exaggeration to say the waste ground I now walked around shimmered with them. This all rather put into context the occasional spectacular irruptions that occur at home, such as one around 10 years ago. But the mind simply boggles at how many trillions of trillion there must be across the species’ entire range. The images I saved from La Oliva are all of Clouded Yellow, of which these (below) are the most pleasing.

Clouded Yellow (all pictures)

Unfortunately on this trip my laptop charger failed and so I lost contact with Canary Islands RBA. It wasn’t until Friday evening I got a message from Eduardo saying a Desert Wheatear had been rediscovered at the reservoir site of Las Molinos that I drove past on my way back to Costa Calma. So missing what could have been my second record of that bird was also a little disappointing. It remains to present a few other and random bird images (below) from the three days featured in these two posts..

Berthelot’s Pipit at La Oliva

Cattle Egret at Costa Calma

North African Raven on Tindaya plain

Egyptian Vulture

So returning to my original question, was this retro-tripette truly motivating? Where the star attractions of Allen’s Gallinule and Dwarf Bittern were concerned the answer is a most definite yes. But revisiting places for no particular reason did not grab my imagination quite so much. Possibly that is because there is only one habitat on Fuerteventura – rough, dry and very stony – in which it is always difficult to pick birds out. But despite slightly anxious doubts in the days leading up to departure, once I got off the plane all the tension slipped away and I was well and truly back into overseas wildlife travel mode. Next up will be Agadir II in February, also through lastminute.com. I might as well do all this while I can.

It was just a short, four-night mid-winter break for me this year with the aim of seeing whether re-visiting the locations of past wildlife adventures can still be motivating. The answer appears to be yes provided there is something new and different in the mix. The Canaries desert island of Fuerteventura is also very affordable in it’s low tourist season, as myself and other Oxon birders discovered on visiting at the time the now resident Dwarf Bittern first arrived 13 months ago. Since my week in Crete last October I have received regular mail-shots from lastminute.com and so am now aware of some good and agreeably priced packages that cater for solo travellers.

For my base this time I chose Costa Calma on the peninsula at Fvta’s far south west, as I had not reached that part of the island before and some good birds turn up there. After making the booking things became interesting when another Westpal rarity from sub-Saharan Africa, a juvenile Allen’s Gallinule turned up at Caleta de Fuste on the east coast. That bird, the island’s third remained from 13th to 24th December, then the plot took another twist. Just before my departure this week what was believed to be a second Allen’s was discovered in Costa Calma itself by birders no doubt searching for the Canaries’ ninth Red-breasted Flycatcher. This bijou tripette was by now seeming seriously meant.

Allen’s Gallinule — well hello!

… then exit stage right

The Allen’s Gallinule (pictured above), a first winter had been frequenting a long and narrow forested strip that runs through the resort’s centre, at a spot between El Palmeral shopping centre and a communications mast opposite the Costa Calma Palace hotel. I arrived here at 11am on Wednesday (9th) armed with GPS co-ordinates provided by Dr Eduardo Garcia del Rey, president of the Sociedad Ornitologica Canaria who administers Canary Islands RBA on Facebook. And as soon as I walked in the bird flew up from one side of the path, a pattern that was to repeat itself over the next three hours.

Some other reports I had read suggested this lifer was approachable but that was not my experience. It was an easy bird to see but not to observe well. Whenever it caught sight of either myself or other people, the Allen’s would fly up into the tree cover overhead and that was what surprised me most. I have never thought of Gallinules or any other Rail or Crake as tree dwellers, but this one seemed totally at home up there (pictured below).

Tree dwelling Gallinule (both pictures)

Stalking this bird while trying for acceptable pictures, I adopted a routine of sitting on an earth mound at the heart of it’s patch then walking a circuit at intervals. Occasionally I was joined by other birders there. Several more times the AG went up from close by always seeing me before I noticed it. From my impromptu base I also paid some attention to the small passerines that were active in the tree cover, as well as some rather more noisy and colourful characters.

The last-named were Red-vented Bulbul, (below, left) a native of the Indian sub-continent and parts of south-east Asia that has been introduced to many other countries. I knew there must be a reason for not coming across it in my pre-trip researches, and now learn this bird is regarded as one of the world’s most problematic invasive alien species. But it was still my second lifer of the morning and interesting to see here.

Red-vented Bulbul

Red-breasted Flycatcher (1w)

At one point the Red-breasted Flycatcher (above, right), also a first winter popped out and posed nicely, and I also noticed it from time to time darting about a very concentrated area in that species’ restless manner. But I did not find a Yellow-browed Warbler that had also been reported from this hot spot, seeing only Chiffchaffs and Spanish Sparrows besides the RBF. At one point I saw a Monarch butterfly, a resident species in the Canaries, but it did not settle.

At 14:00 pm I took a break, returning after an hour and in the late afternoon the Allen’s Gallinule became rather more confiding. A sequence of events next unfolded that turned my sojourn here into a very satisfying experience. First I spotted the bird right out in the open beside then atop a large mound (pictured below). And thereafter I was able to follow at a discreet distance wherever it went without it seeming concerned by my presence.

Just look at those legs … it should have been a supermodel

The Gallinule next began feeding in some longish ground cover and so I realised how I had put it up inadvertently a number of times earlier. This bird liked to keep in semi concealment in that habitat, but still seemed to allow a closer approach now than had been the case in the morning. I was all this time gaining a better understanding of its movements and habits and the end game was coming into sight.

Allen’s Gallinule (both pictures)

When my quest relocated again to the spot that features at the top of this post I at last obtained pictures (below) to compare with all the others seen online. It had been a real privilege to spend five hours in this superb bird’s company and to gain such a variety of other images in the process.

Oh you beauty! This first winter is just beginning to acquire it’s blue adult colouring (per E G del R)

Allen’s Gallinule (both pictures)

On Thursday evening (10th) I received a message from Eduardo asking if there was any further news on this rarity. I took that to mean the AG had not been reported again whilst I had been otherwise engaged with the Dwarf Bittern. So on Friday (11th) I returned to check out the same place from 15:45 to 17:20 pm, but without encountering the former again.

Instead, from my earth mound I followed the hyperactive antics of the Red-breasted Flycatcher (pictured below) through that entire interval. This tiny sprite was in exactly the same spot as two days previously, dashing about constantly, feeding in low trees and on the ground, and sitting up on a number of favoured perches. This trip’s individual was only my second record of what is a widespread central and eastern European breeder.

Red-breasted Flycatcher (1w – both images)

I wondered if I had observed the Allen’s Gallinule so well on its last day in Costa Calma, and even feared I might have spooked it, but there had been a sighting earlier on 11th and another again on Saturday (12th). Something different had indeed gone into the mix for this retro trip and my first day in Costa Calma had been a resounding success.

Note: On 18th January the Caleta de Fuste Allen’s Gallinule was re-found in it’s pre-Christmas location, confirming there were indeed two first-winter individuals on Fuerteventura through the period under discussion.

The opportunity to observe two wintering Divers (or Loons) within easy reach of home, both juveniles and both in public parks, has been a pleasing diversion either side of this turn of the year. I am at present finding myself going further afield to view mid-winter birds I might more usually hope to experience in Oxfordshire, but the birding scene has been unusually quiet in my home county in recent weeks. So quelling the dark season restlessness that set in after I stopped counting down to the shortest day this winter has involved more time on the road.

Great Northern Diver (juv)

Black-throated Diver (juv)

My previous records of both species have mostly come from Oxford’s own Farmoor Reservoir, where more recently three GND were present together in Dec 2015 but not since; and an injured BTD in full breeding plumage remained for several days in May of the same year before, sadly dying. The only exceptions were a GND in Portland Harbour (Jan 1992), and my first ever wintering BTD at a gravel pit site near Bedford (Nov 93).

The new sightings presented in this post both arrived at their respective sites on 22nd December. When I saw the GND was still just across the border with Berks last Sunday (30th), having done everything I needed to at home it filled the afternoon nicely to go and have a look. This bird was at Beale Park (SU618783), a kind of mini-zoo and visitor attraction in the Thames valley to the north-west of Reading.

I had been there previously a few times to search for Clubtail dragonflies in the adjacent riverside meadows. Unusually on-site parking appears to be free, or I have certainly yet to encounter either an attendant, ticket machine or CCTV installation; and on this occasion there was the added advantage of having the place mostly to myself. The juvenile Great Northern Diver was on view as soon as I arrived and it was certainly different to watch and enjoy one on such a small water body, a private fishing lake to one side of the car park.

Great Northern Diver (juv – all pictures)

I learned of the second Diver in the field whilst hoping for as iffy images of drake Smew north of Worcester on Monday (31st), by when those ducks had moved on. Then during a rather demotivated new year’s day off from birding I decided I would fill Wednesday (2nd) by making an easy trip to the end of the M40 motorway. There this bird had taken up residence at Arrow Valley Country Park (SP061673) in the town of Redditch, to the south of Birmingham.

When I arrived on-site just before midday, the juvenile Black-throated Diver was easy to pick out on the park’s main lake. It was drifting around while going through a preening routine that often involved sitting up in the water and flapping its wings. I recalled the 2015 Farmoor bird behaving in the same way. Then today’s bird began to dive again, and as with the GND two days earlier I was impressed by for how long a time it could stay under water before coming up again almost anywhere. Lastly it dozed for a while with head tucked over shoulder.

Several other birders were staking out various points around the lake’s perimeter, all hoping the bird would surface near them, just as I was. But for the most part it remained about two-thirds of the way across in water that appeared dark brown from the shadow of trees beyond the opposite bank. When it did at last pop up in the brighter-toned water near where I stood, my camera setting was then all wrong; cue a loud curse. It is at moments like that when I wish I could get my head around bird photography.

Black-throated Diver (juv – all pictures)

I kept 18 pictures from my two hours in the BND’s company and whilst fully appreciating how grainy and low-resolution they are, in my own way I like them well enough. Even were I a photographer I rather suspect it might become boring to always have to produce competition entries, and anyway I’m much better at insects.

So what was it like birding on the general public’s turf? I have to say things were rather more agreeable than the reverse situation of the previous post. As an often lone male of a certain age I seldom go to public parks for obvious reasons. But despite the constant procession of parents and children around Arrow Valley Lake, my motivation in standing around looking through optics was not queried at all. And I was only accosted once by someone who just had to talk at me about a Goldeneye when I was trying to get pictures of the Diver. Eventually he got the message and “left me to it”.

The 2015 adult referred to herein

Today’s juvenile Black-throated Diver

Enjoying prolonged encounters with the 2015 summer plumaged adult (pictured above, left) locally, and now this wintering juvenile leaves me feeling pretty well versed in things Black-throated Diver. This had been a pleasant enough and far from arduous day out.

This day was more about burning off pent-up energy on the road rather than any specific birding agenda. The period immediately following the winter solstice, when daylight hours seem barely to lengthen before the final week of January, is a tedious time for an outdoor person such as myself. So the as arduous seven hour round trip to the north Norfolk coast seemed not unattractive on this occasion, so long as it was undertaken in darkness.

In the interval since my last visit on 5th November (see here) there had been frequent reports of both Snow Bunting and Shorelark flocks in the dune area behind Holkham Bay (TF895455) that is a regular wintering ground for both species. I now arrived at the Holkham NNR car park along Lady Anne’s Drive shortly after dawn to seek them out, making my way to an area that has been cordoned off for these birds protection.

There were just several other birders and a few dog walkers present and all was pleasant and tranquil as the morning brightened. I soon noticed a ground feeding group of birds within the impromptu enclosure that indeed was the 50-plus Snow Bunting flock (pictured above), and at once became captivated by them. Their collective charm seemed to be augmented by the plumage variation amongst individuals; the warm, rusty tones of winter plumaged females contrasting attractively with the whiter colouration of males. Juveniles contributed in their more understated way to what somehow resembled an undulating patchwork quilt as the entire ensemble buzzed about feeding restlessly all the while and moving from place to place.

Snow Bunting is an annual winter visitor to Great Britain from Arctic and trans-polar breeding grounds, though a small number are resident in the Scottish Cairngorms. A fairly large and long-winged, ground dwelling Bunting, its breeding colouration evolves from a gradual wearing and abrasion of the feathers rather than a conventional spring moult. Having encountered this bird only in very small numbers previously this now was a very worthwhile experience to come across so many together and hence note the degree of plumage variation that exists.

Snow Bunting flock

I continued to enjoy the mini spectacle being played out before me for the next two hours while wandering about Holkham’s vegetated dune habitat and chatting to the other birders. There was also a larger flock of Twite here, another of Norfolk’s speciality winter passerines. Offshore there were Divers, Grebes and what looked like a raft of Scoter, though I am not a great one for identifying dark specks on the sea at distance. But of the reported Shorelark flock there was resolutely no sign.

The reason for that soon became clear. By 11am this SSSI began to heave with general public and their dogs. Though people kept out of the roped off area as requested the identical adjacent habitat, that it is not rocket science to realise is equally sensitive, was being roundly trampled. Even had any Shorelark been concealed in there somewhere they would hardly be sticking around now. Meaningful birding was over for the day.

That was merely a foretaste. By the time I reached the boardwalk leading back to the car park, the human and canine tide flowing in the outward direction was assuming near biblical proportions. Since I was in this place for a purpose, namely to observe wildlife, to my mind it seemed these crowds were mostly just walking about doing very little other than being out and about together. So why go to a national nature reserve that is meant to exist for the benefit of wildlife then do just what they would in a public park? I must confess to not actually getting it.

In retrospect I should perhaps not have been so taken aback. Holkham is Englands’ largest NNR and a significant contributor to the local economy, and whilst the Holkham Estate and Natural England take measures to protect habitats from visitor pressure they likewise have jobs and the regional tourism infrastructure to support. Everywhere now, though birders are a well represented group in the visitor total, conservation charities have long since decided that green clad optics carriers are a less ready resource than the general public when it comes to hands being put in pockets.

Whether we are less likely to go to forward slash gizyerdosh when we get back home, as appears to be reserve managers’ perception, I cannot say. But we travel long distances and so accrue that cost before arriving, we like to avoid paying to park if possible, we bring packed lunches, we spend our time in the field rather than in cafeterias or on-site shops, etc, etc. But might I ask quietly herein once again: “What about the wildlife, and is there not a better way than what just seems like a self defeating cycle where conservation is concerned?” These views are not intended as a rant but needless to say I headed out of there pretty sharpish.

Some other birders were still arriving as I left, and as throughout the morning all were asking one another if anyone had seen any Shorelarks. But during what must also have been two previous days of pressure and disturbance the prime reason for actual wildlife enthusiasts to visit this site must simply have gone elsewhere, just like before my previous visit. By contrast the Snow Buntings (below) seemed unconcerned by all the company and continued in their own busy and alluring way throughout.

I had planned to spend the rest of daylight at nearby Wells Wood to try for two Coues’s Arctic Redpoll, but now thought better of even attempting to negotiate the car park there. Instead I moved part way home to a reservoir site in Leicestershire, finding nothing of note but re-attaining some peace and tranquilly while quietly watching birds until dusk.

December has been unusually uneventful nationally for notable birds. I have not been inactive in this mid-winter, having enjoyed good experiences locally of four seasonal finches – Common Crossbill, Siskin, Redpoll and Brambling – and gone a bit further afield to cover that most charismatic of winter wildfowl, Smew. But I do not assume people will wish to consult this journal if I am not presenting something of national or European interest. And though not a photographer I prefer to include pictures of some kind. Gaining my best ever experience of Snow Bunting, with pictures today seemed worth including here albeit with a certain degree of frustration over not observing more.

The opportunity to experience my second British White-tailed Eagle at the far end of the A34 / M3 / M27 run from Oxford provided welcome respite from birding doldrums that have set in since my last entry in this journal. That 5½ week interval has been very quiet both nationally and so far in December locally too. Hence reading of this raptor on RBA upon rising this morning made it a fairly easy decision to get straight out of the door.

The site in question was quoted as Milkham Inclosure (SZ210100) lying to the north of the A31 trunk road between Cadnam and Ringwood in the New Forest National Park. But RBA had yet to give more directions. OS Explorer map OL22 shows a number of parking areas along a road skirting the forestry plantation’s northern side that I checked on arrival for assemblages of birders. But finding no signs of activity I returned to the first car park where two locals fed me information from a Hampshire source that I suspect was Going Birding.

The WTE, a juvenile had first been reported on RBA two days previously, but I now learned some reports were saying it had been in the area for up to 10 days. Also the bird was being encouraged to stick around by carcasses being put out in the area between the A31 and the plantation. The best viewpoint was cited as a lay-by on the A31. Though some birders were visible on foot between there and where I was, with the skies looking threatening I opted to follow that advice and drove on.

The right place had to be on the north-east bound carriageway, judging by the numbers of cars parked there. This meant turning back at the Picket Post Services junction, after which it was the second lay-by heading the other way. Once there I beheld a twitch line a short distance to one side of the road. Another birder then pointed out the White-tailed Eagle flying over the tree-line to the north, before going down into Roe Inclosure, just west of the first cited plantation. So priority one: “see the bird” was achieved immediately.

White-tailed Eagle (juv)

View north from A31 lay-by

White-tailed Eagle (juv)

This was indeed an excellent spot from which to view the plantations to the north. After getting all my kit together I went over to join the other birders, though some were already walking away being satisfied with their views just gained. I soon wondered if they should have stayed a little longer since the Eagle re-emerged then perched in the top of a tall Pine tree. Priority two: “see the bird well” was quickly followed by priority three: “get any kind of picture”. But at that range in overcast conditions the distant records (above) were all I was going to gain. It was now about 11:35am.

When the WTE next flew further back and out of sight, more birders also moved on. But the location of the carcass in Buckherd Bottom having been pointed out I decided to stay and see if the bird might come closer to feed. I remained on-site for some time during which the twitch line built up again as RBA was now directing people to the lay-by. After a while our quest was relocated, perched very distantly in two more locations. Most of the later arriving birders had to make do with those views. At around 1:10pm, having noticed a squall approaching from the west I headed back to my car, reaching safety just before the weather turned foul. Priority four: “get a better picture” would have to wait for another day.

The New Forest has some past form where Eagles are concerned, with both White-tailed and Short-toed being recorded in this decade. English WTE records remain uncommon away from the east coast, and especially this far south. Though today’s bird appears to be ringed it is not yet known where it hails from, but across the North Sea the species now breeds as far south as Holland. My only previous record of White-tailed Eagle in Great Britain was in Suffolk in January 1989, much closer to when they began to be re-introduced into parts of Scotland. I have also observed this impressive raptor in Estonia but have yet to bird in Scotland where WTE is now a popular tourist attraction. Not a bad Sunday out then, all things considered.

This was an opportunity I thought over for a while but that ultimately needed to be taken. Not too many King Eider stray far south of Aberdeenshire where several, mostly drakes regularly winter, but for the previous seven days an immature male had settled offshore from the Norfolk seaside town of Sheringham. Twice in the last two years I had travelled to the Dyfi estuary in west Wales to try for a female that is reported there sporadically, without success.

Both places are a little beyond my usual range, but King Eider is a difficult bird to catch up with other than in Aberdeenshire; hence my willingness to push out the boundaries. Northern Norway, where it is possible to hire a floating hide expensively to get out amongst them, is of course even further. The Norfolk bird, that is described as a second winter drake, would not be as good as seeing the rather magnificent adults further afield, but also more distinctive than the drab Ceredigeon duck.

King Eider (male and female) © rights of owner reserved

King Eider (pictured above) is a common breeder in Arctic regions of Europe, north America and Asia, and mostly remains at high latitudes throughout the year. Adult males are as unmistakable as they are handsome, though females are not too dissimilar to the slightly larger Common Eider. This species is very rare in England, but I understand they are prone to over-wintering where they do occur south of the Arctic, so maybe this one might mature on-site.

Upon rising on Monday morning (5th) I decided to put things to the B&B test. If I could find reasonably priced overnight accommodation I would go to Sheringham. So when a last minute single room for £38 in nearby Cromer beckoned my mind was made up. The travelling distance was not actually as far as anticipated and I arrived on Sheringham’s seafront at 1:30pm.

Sheringham’s western promenade from where the King Eider was being viewed

Most sightings on RBA had been from the lifeboat station that I now ascertained was at the far end of the rather nondescript promenade (pictured above) just to the west of the town. When I got there several other birders were already watching the King Eider out on the sea, and once I too located this much sought lifer things were as easy as that. There would now be a certain amount of time to fill so I stayed and watched my quest for some time.

In around 90 minutes on-site the KE didn’t come closer inshore, remaining at roughly the same distance bobbing in and out of view on the waves and diving in overcast light. There were hence the proverbial two chances of getting a picture, slim and none. These images (below) rather push “showing how the bird was seen” out to the limit, but were all I was likely to get. For the RBA gallery of this bird see here but this (here) on Bird Guides is better.

Two chances of a picture … slim

… and none

At just after 3pm I decided to explore the locality, and allowing for the season found “Norfolk’s premier seaside town” as Sheringham proclaims itself to be a dullish and faded sort of place from a former age, with an overall impression of rather too much ugly, weather-stained concrete. Necessary as those sea defences are, the place was hardly picturesque. Then, my parking time having run out, I moved on the few miles to Cromer and my B&B.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

With this experience, I have now observed all three of Europe’s regularly occurring Eiders, the others being Steller’s Eider in Estonia (April 2017) and Common Eider a number of times in England. It would perhaps have seemed churlish to head straight home on Tuesday (6th) with the north Norfolk coast at my disposal, and so overnight I checked out what else was about. Amongst the various records on RBA, several Shorelark at Holkham Gap and Twite at Thornham Harbour stood out. And since these are both prime birding locations I reasoned those classic Norfolk wintering species might not be too difficult to find.

Hence, having raided a petrol station store of its end of day mark downs, I forewent a full English breakfast and set off fairly early west along the A149 coastal road. Arriving at 8:30am in the Holkham NNR car park at the end of Lady Anne’s Drive I fed the rapacious pay and display machine then walked east into the coastal habitat between Wells Wood and the sea. Here (TF895455) there is what is described as a regular wintering site for Shorelark and Snow Bunting.

Coastal Shorelark habitat at Holkham NNR

The previous day this had been cordoned off to discourage photographers and other people with cameras, presumably from chasing the birds around. The area in question is now an enclosure complete with notices appealing to visitors to give the birds space and keep a respectful distance. Everywhere now in birding there is that field underclass of people with little actual knowledge of wildlife, and far more technology than field craft, though all encouraged by conservation charities in their insatiable desire for new members. I say that because seasoned wildlife enthusiasts, whom the same organisations now prefer to disregard, do not generally do what was being described in the notices.

Unfortunately the disturbance created by the measures taken for these birds protection appeared to have caused them to relocate, at least temporarily and of either Shorelark or Snow Bunting there was no sign. As at Sheringham I felt constrained here by the amount of parking time I had purchased and so stayed for around 90 minutes again. I would have preferred the option to obtain a day permit, since I was after all visiting a national nature reserve. Back at the car park the seasonal Geese (pictured below) in the fields alongside made this visit worthwhile, especially the Pink-footed Geese that I always enjoy experiencing on any winter visit to north Norfolk.

Pink-footed Geese

Brent Goose

Pink-footed Geese

Pink-footed Goose

Greylag Geese

Then, filing the place with the enclosure away in my mind for future reference, I moved on to Thornham and another NNR, Holme Dunes (pictured below). There I came across a large flock of Twite feeding on the salt marsh at what is also a regular site for that winter Finch. Having filled the morning in this way I now felt better value for making the overnight stay.

Part of Holme Dunes NNR looking towards Thornham

As weather conditions became more threatening I headed for home early to avoid rush hour traffic around Peterborough and Northampton. I left feeling it’s a pity Norfolk is up to four hours from home, since it always looks like there is lots to do there but on day visits such as this one I somehow never get enough time to do things justice.

I wasn’t expecting too much from a week long change of season break in Crete. The plan was more to experience another large Mediterranean island I had wanted to visit for some time, rather than to pursue an intensive wildlife agenda. Where butterflies were concerned there are two endemics, Cretan Argus and Cretan Grayling, the second of which ought still to be flying. Better pictures for my collection of Lang’s Short-tailed Blue and Cardinal would be very welcome. And then there are Plain Tiger.

The last-named is perhaps one of the world’s most widely distributed butterflies. Various sub-species occur throughout Africa and much of tropical Asia, as well as the southern Pacific region and Australia. In Europe it is found in the Canary Islands and sporadically around some coastal Mediterranean regions, including Crete from May to October. I had come across the species just once before in Morocco (Nov 2015) but did not get a picture.

Plain Tiger at Georgioúpoli … what a blurry beauty!

It took until the close of my trip’s final day to make this self-find. Visiting the seaside town of Georgioúpoli on the north coast I found it to be a nicely laid back and picturesque place, at least at this time of year, with an ambience of pavement tavernas and boaty promenades. I had read that the Almiros estuary along the western edge of the town was a good wildlife area, and so after buying presents in the main square headed out there.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

As I strolled along taking landscape pictures (above) a first Plain Tiger flew over my head and kept going. Then I found a small colony and the serious beauty of this striking, continuously brooded insect did not disappoint. It is a member of the Danaidae order of large tropical butterflies which also includes another wide ranging migrant, Milkweed or Monarch and the colouring is similar. Those are the only two members of that family that occur in Europe.

Plain Tiger

Plain Tiger

Tigers, Tigers burning bright

Plain Tiger

Plain Tiger

In my on-site excitement I failed to notice how worn some of the butterflies were. The image below was earmarked for inclusion in my premium gallery (see here) until after viewing it on my desktop computer back at home I noticed the condition of the lower individual. But that does not stop Plain Tiger being my top insect sighting of the trip.

The west is the not so commercialised and more natural end of Crete, with far less intensive development for mass market tourism. It is also where the wildlife tour operators go in both spring and autumn, but at this time of year their itineraries are botanical in bias. Crete is renowned for a mass flowering of bulbous plants after the first autumn rains, and is also a top grade hiking destination, both of which attract visitors more interested in the natural world than a beach holiday.

For my base I chose the excellent Galini Sea View hotel in Stalos, along the coastal tourist strip to the west of the regional capital Chania. What I most seek from a room is a good view, but I didn’t anticipate getting the one on the web page (below, left). I chose this hotel because it is on a hill and from Google Earth I could see there was undeveloped land nearby in which to search for butterflies and other insects. Oh, and it also offered an affordable all inclusive package.

The outlook from my room towards Chania

The local butterfly habitat (my hotel is top right)

Hence on day one (22nd) I set out on foot simply to explore the surrounding area (above, right), as I like to do at the start of a trip. With my particular motivation any piece of waste ground wherever I might be is potentially productive and interesting, and my choice of location this time proved to be a wise one. As that sunny morning warmed up I recorded 15 mostly multi-brooded and hence common Mediterranean species, but these included two that were either new to me or previously un-pictured.

Painted Lady

Clouded Yellow

This whole locality on the hillsides above Stalos was teeming with butterflies. Painted Lady and Clouded Yellow (pictured above) were everywhere, and I cannot recall having ever found so many Swallowtail in one place. The last-named offered some pleasingly creative picture opportunities (below). Lantana, the red flower is sold as a hanging basket plant at home. When I come across it abroad I always recall a South African in an English garden centre saying it is an invasive weed where he comes from. There is certainly plenty of it in this part of Crete, and always worth checking for butterflies. Click on any image to enlarge.

Swallowtail

Swallowtail

Swallowtail

Swallowtail

I was especially pleased to find a Southern Comma here. I had observed this butterfly for the first time in Delphi, southern Greece last June (see here), but only secured underwing pictures. The female in these new images (below) is certainly very different from the Commas we are familiar with in Great Britain. This species occurs across the northern Mediterranean region, from the south of France, through Italy, the Balkans, mainland Greece and into Turkey.

Southern Comma (female)

Southern Comma (female)

Geranium Bronze (below) is an introduced species I had read of many times but not come across in the field until now. This attractive little South African number is attributed with having arrived in the Mediterranean as eggs or larvae via the horticultural trade in Pelargonium plants. First reported in 1990 in Mallorca, it has since expanded its range quite vigorously and is regarded as a pest species, at least by people who cultivate ornamental Pelargoniums.

Geranium Bronze (all pictures)

I only located one of the above, but Mediterranean Skipper (below) were quite abundant. This drab brown Skipper is fairly localised, ranging sporadically across Mediterranean coastal regions from May through to late autumn. I had noticed them before in Cyprus (Nov 2011) but not obtained any pictures worth keeping. That situation was put right on this trip.

Mediterranean Skipper

Mediterranean Skipper

Mediterranean Skipper

I particularly wished to get better pictures of Lang’s Short-tailed Blue here in Crete. That diminutive and hyperactive little butterfly is very difficult to capture well, being constantly on the move and disinclined to perch openly. But here I achieved that aim when the sun went in temporarily and the individual in the image (below, left) kept stock still for quite some time. In these crops this common and widespread southern European blue may look larger than life size, actually being not much bigger than a Small Blue.

Lang’s Short-tailed Blue

Lang’s Short-tailed Blue

Lang’s Short-tailed Blue

Other common species on the wing here were Wall Brown, Speckled Wood, Common Blue, Brown Argus, Small Copper, Large and Small White, and frequent Red Admiral. In the absence of an agenda to track down new must-finds, I found myself taking time, untypically to pay attention to some of these and perhaps picture them against new and different plants.

Wall Brown (female)

Common Blue

Speckled Wood

Brown Argus (all images)

Initially I hoped the paler toned Argus (above, right) might be a Cretan. But on reading things up that endemic is confined to certain mountain locations and flies in high summer. So I think this particular butterfly is most likely a rather faded female Brown Argus.

Perhaps a case in point where stopping to bother with very commonplace butterflies is concerned were the myriad Small White here. Normally they are difficult to do justice to in bright sunshine. But on this occasion a pleasing light meant I added some good images to my collection. So here (below) is a mini-celebration of the humble Small White, proof perhaps that there is no such thing as a mundane butterfly.

Small White

Small White

Small White

By early afternoon conditions had become overcast. So I walked the seafront, quickly realising that most of the area had closed down for the winter already. In the evening I found out my hotel was following suit at the end of my stay. It was a slightly surreal experience being in such a large establishment with so few guests, but also reminiscent of the memorable three weeks spent in Tavira, southern Portugal in January 2014. The weather stayed unsuited to insects through to Friday (25th) which dawned clear and bright. Then, having hired a car in the interim I headed to Levka Ori, the White Mountains of Crete.

Northward vista on the mountain road above Fournés

As I wound onward and upward in my vehicle the same yellow-flowered shrub that dominated the hillsides above Stalos now lined the roadside verges. Once again I found time to devote to commonplace, late-brooded species if only because nothing else was available. Wall Brown is another butterfly not normally given to keeping still for the camera, but here in the cool light of morning they were far more docile than usual. Sure enough as the day warmed up, and after these images (below) were captured they became more flighty and difficult again.

Wall Brown (female)

Wall Brown (female)

Wall Brown (female)

Above the cultivation altitude the landscape changed dramatically, becoming now stony and scrubby. I stopped at such a roadside spot that looked good for Cretan Grayling and a short search duly produced one. The differences from regular Grayling (Hipparchia semele) are only slight (the proportions of the male genitalia aside!), but this endemic (Hipparchia cretica) is the sole Grayling to occur in Crete so I could be confident of the ID. The pictured individual (below) was the only one of the prime trip target I encountered all week.

Cretan Grayling

Cretan Grayling

The as ever cryptically patterned, endemic Cretan Grayling (above and below)

In this rocky habitat I also began to encounter lizards, without which no Mediterranean trip report would be complete. The endemic Cretan Wall Lizard was separated as a species in 2008. This is a medium-sized lacertid reaching 20cm in length, though like all of that extensive genus there can be much variation in size and colouration. It is the only lizard to occur in Crete, being distributed throughout the west at altitudes up to 2000m.

Cretan Wall Lizard (all images)

Following these sightings I continued up to the Omalos plateau that is said to be one of the more likely places in Crete where Lammergeier might be observed. I wasn’t lucky and there were very few butterflies up there either, the land being heavily grazed. In the afternoon I drove on to the idyllic village of Soúgia on the south coast, stopping where I thought there could be good butterfly habitat, but things were much more disappointing in that respect than the spectacular scenery (below). It is approximately 50 miles distance from the north to south coasts of western Crete.

Southward vista on the descent from Omalos to Soúgia

On the morning of my final day in Crete (27th) I paid a second visit to Lake Ayia, an ageing and partially overgrown man-made reservoir some 5km north of my base. Earlier in the week I had noted good dragonfly habitat here, and with sunshine now prevailing I came to see what might be about. There were a lot of Migrant Hawker, with a few Lesser Emperor mixed in that as ever did not settle, and some Red-veined Darter.

Violet Dropwing (female)

Common Bluetail

Violet Dropwing (male)

Violet Dropwing (male)

Violet Dropwing (female)

The only dragons to co-operate for the camera were some Violet Dropwing (above) that posed close to the barrage wall and hence not so directly into sunlight as the larger species. I had thereby observed this attractive, northward expanding African species in Portugal, Morocco, Sardinia and now Crete. A Common Bluetail at Lake Ayia (above, top right) was the only damselfly of the week.

Lake Ayia towards barrage wall

Lake Ayia towards one of the cafés

Along the barrage-top path I came across a flowering shrub that was attracting Lang’s Short-tailed Blue and larger Long-tailed Blue (pictured below) butterflies, both of which are common and widespread in southern Europe. The same plant was being pollinated by several Carpenter Bee. I seem to find these big, buzzing, blue-toned beauties wherever I go in the Mediterranean and will admit to having a bit of a soft spot for them. They get their name from a habit of boring into wooden structures and hence might not be so well thought of locally.

Long-tailed Blue

Long-tailed Blue

Carpenter Bee

In the afternoon I moved on to Lake Kournas (below) some 30 miles to the east and just north of Georgioúpoli where this narrative began. Kournas is the only natural fresh water lake in the whole of Crete and also a popular playground with local people and holiday makers alike. So I drove past all the tavernas and paddle boat concessions to park at what looked like the quieter end of the site. This place must heave in high season.

Lake Kournas

Meadow Brown

Red-veined Darter (female)

Speckled Wood

First I walked a track behind the lakeside tree-line, where more common butterflies (pictured above) were active and a female Red-veined Darter sat up nicely. Then I spent some time along the stony edge to the beach in the top landscape, away from all the boats where good and roughly equal numbers of Red-veined Darter and Violet Dropwing were busying themselves. Here I got into my element, just taking pictures with no special agenda. The over-mature male in the sequence below, a different colour form was actually seen on the hillside above Stalos earlier in the week.

Red-veined Darter (male top 4 images)

Over mature male Red-veined Darter at Stalos

Violet Dropwing at Kournas (both images)

Lastly, there must be a trillion trillions of Grasshoppers in Crete. Wherever I trod in the wild these attractive and fascinating insects would fly in all directions from my footfall, often displaying a flash of one or another bright colour as they went. I am possibly becoming a little more adept at noticing where they land now than the predators that strategy is designed to confuse, and as is my wont on a Mediterranean trip found time to take a selection of pictures.

A selection of Cretan grasshoppers, masters of camouflage all

Once again I couldn’t help but notice how the different individuals in the sequence above invariably seem to match the backdrop. And so I wondered once more if these creatures are changelings that can actually alter their tones to blend in with the habitat wherever they might be. I remain open to advice from any reader who might be able to offer it.

The butterfly list for this trip (with lifers in Bold) was: Swallowtail, Large White, Small White, Clouded Yellow, Cleopatra, Small Copper, Long-tailed Blue, Geranium Bronze, Lang’s Short-tailed Blue, Brown Argus, Common Blue, Plain Tiger, Red Admiral, Painted Lady, Southern Comma, Cretan Grayling, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood (P a Aegeria), Wall Brown, Mediterranean Skipper – 20

Red-throated Pipit and Bearded Reedling near Chania – 25th Oct

Birds were not a high priority on this trip since there was little likelihood of seeing anything new unless I was fortunate enough to encounter a Lammergeier in the mountains. By all accounts that mythical raptor is just as scarce in Crete as in Corsica and Sardinia and it eluded me again as in those other islands. So my wait to experience one must go on.

The one full day I devoted to birding was Thursday (25th), starting at Lake Ayia that my pre-trip researches indicated is Crete’s best location. If that is so then I can only say it reflects why Crete is not a prime destination for dedicated birders. There were some highlights however that morning, as first a pair of Booted Eagle came in and out; then my third Lesser Spotted Eagle drifted over or so I was informed afterwards by another birder. That knowledgeable German gentleman who had been visiting Crete for 30 years confirmed that Lake Ayia in his view is somewhat past it’s prime.

The Red-throated Pipit site

The Bearded Reedling habitat

He also told me of a site on the western edge of Chania (pictured above) where there were currently small flocks of Red-throated Pipit and Bearded Reedling, the latter being a very scarce bird in Crete. So that was where I went on to in the afternoon. One rather refreshing aspect of visiting Crete was the ease of parking for free and so it was again here. I crossed a bridge onto some undeveloped land across a small river and fairly quickly came upon several Pipits feeding busily on the ground.

I had self-found Red-throated Pipit once before in Cyprus (Nov 2011), an unmistakeable adult complete with red throat, and so needed to re-assure myself I had indeed located the birds I had been directed to on this second occasion. But having checked the grainy digiscoped images (below) against RBA’s gallery of winter plumaged birds seen in Great Britain, I am confident of the ID though still open to correction.

Red-throated Pipit (all images)

RTP is a tundra breeder that winters in Africa and locally in the Middle East. The Helm guide to confusion species describes this bird as colder and less buff than Meadow Pipit and much more heavily streaked. The lateral throat-stripe ends in a thick blotch on the neck-sides, joining heavy broad breast striping. The upperparts are strongly striped and the wings also strongly marked. I do hope I have got this ID right.

After a while on-site, and since there were no other birders present, I started moving around and getting closer to the Pipits to try for better pictures in the poor light, but without success. There were also Crested and Short-toed Lark here, and White and Yellow Wagtail. Then the Bearded Reedling flock flew over my head, pinging as they went, to land in vegetation by the river exactly where the German birder had advised me to look. My images are no better than those of the Pipits but still show what I saw.

Bearded Tit or Reedling (both images)

This dual sighting was the birding highlight of the week. In the White Mountains the following day I twice saw Griffon Vulture overhead, but in general I majored on insects for this trip since my various southern European posts in this journal receive a good level of consultation from web searchers, and I am not really a proper birder after all. So I have now added another large Mediterranean island to my life’s experience. But six days was enough merely to scratch the surface in this so wild and scenic principality of Greece, and hence I may return.

This was very welcome. While mulling over how to fill my day this morning, another ideal short distance twitch announced itself from the listings on RBA. A much sought autumn migrant, Rustic Bunting had been found in East London late on the previous day and was being watched again as I thought things over.

Autumn is said to have come alive this week with a number of outstanding vagrants turning up around the British Isles. The top draws were a first ever White-rumped Swift in East Yorkshire, only a second Gray Catbird in Cornwall, and a seventh Two-barred Greenish Warbler in Norfolk. But I have had very meaningful past experiences of the first two abroad and felt no inclination to perform feats of endurance just to see either in this country. The third is always difficult and was once again proving elusive in the unforgiving dip-trap that is Holkham Pines, at the end of a tedious drive to the north Norfolk coast.

Today’s Rustic Bunting was a different matter entirely, being a Siberian breeding drift migrant I had been tracking for some time, waiting for a suitable opportunity. If seen it would be my second new Bunting in Britain this autumn, and most importantly it was well within preferred range at just over 80 miles. Wanstead is in the suburbs of East London where I grew up, so would evoke its share of early life associations. And the fast motorway drive via the M40, M25 and M11 would be an opportunity to give a proper work out to September’s new Slash and Myles album on my in-car CD player – remember those? Just before 10am a further sighting was posted, and off I set.

2016 Rustic Bunting at Kilnsea, East Yorks © and courtesy of Andrew Last

Rustic Bunting is an annual vagrant that has declined in this century from around 20 British records a year in the 1990s to far fewer now. This was one of several scarce drift migrants that clustered in Yorkshire in the outstanding autumn of 2016, and was seen (pictured above) by a number of Oxon birders. Since then I have been waiting for nearer occurrences of more annual autumn species to go after. Amongst them, available Olive-backed Pipit and Greenish Warbler have remained too difficult for my liking. But now patience has been rewarded again for he who waited with the appearance of this RB in such an unexpected urban location. Wanstead of course has a very well-known patch watcher and blogger (see here) who is not entirely unconnected with some of the better records that come from there.

I arrived on-site just after midday, feeling suitably uplifted by all those aforementioned new riffs and solos en route. Remembering the way from the end of the M11, I found much of Wanstead to be relatively unchanged and still a genteel, leafy suburb of mainly large mature houses. But I cannot recall the last time I visited the Flats. Using a car park by Centre Road I could see a lot of birders nearby, but they all seemed to be moving around and looking in different directions suggesting the bird was not currently on view.

Wanstead Flats …

… an urban oasis

I appreciated at once why birds should be attracted to Wanstead Flats (TQ409865) being a large open area of original habitat amongst the urban sprawl of East London. Moving around and listening to various conversations, the people I met sounded very knowledgeable, having between them been at many of this autumn’s major national twitches. A few had just got back from Corvo in the Azores and I learned one of those was none other than Bird Guides editor Dominic Mitchell, to whom I subsequently kept quite close thinking this might increase my chances of seeing the bird. I heard all about our quest’s movements through the morning and how it had fed on the ground for 40 minutes on Sunflower seed spread by the gathered birders before becoming more mobile. That food supply was now being consumed rapidly by a flock of Corvids and other birds.

Fire damage

The seeded location

It was hence a matter of watching and waiting for a shout to go up. I was joined first by fellow Oxon birder Steve Jennings then, inevitably Adam for whom also this bird would be a lifer. After about an hour the Rustic Bunting was called anew, and all the scattered birders hurried to a particular spot. I first glimpsed my lifer flying on from there to the baited location where it proceeded to perch prominently giving everyone present excellent views. The habitat here is recovering from a recent scrub fire, and so the bird stood out nicely as it moved between various still charred perches.

Rustic Bunting © rights of owner reserved

This bird certainly looked quite different from other brown Buntings – Reed, Little and Lapland – I had seen before, but I had not read up on the plumage (above) before departure. Having done so now I will not go into too great detail. But as I watched the rather peaked head pattern, with a broad, creamy buff supercilium and dark ear coverts stood out well. There is a generally more contrasting pattern overall than the common and widespread Reed Bunting, with darker upperparts and a whiter ground colour to the underparts. Since I did not get pictures I will not claim to have noticed more than that. For the RBA gallery of today’s bird (1w) see here.

Wanstead Library

When the RB flew again most of the gathering were pleased with having enjoyed such good views and began to disperse. I too moved on first to visit my grandparents’ grave (above left) in a nearby burial ground, then Wanstead Public Library where I had worked as a school leaver. After buying a sandwich and sitting to eat it in Wanstead High Street I once again felt that not too much has changed in all these years, if the giant trenches and tunnels of the modern road infrastructure are ignored.

This had been a most excellent excursion. I gained a much desired bird lifer, the day was filled pretty much to perfection, and the new disc was up to standard; the last of those being perhaps the most certain outcome of all. To make sure I played “Living the Dream” again on the way back to Oxford and home, then the best bits over and over.

Gray Catbird

Lastly, here (above) are some of the gorgeous Gray Catbirds across the car park from that dingy motel room in Homestead, Florida last January. To have jostled and competed with a field full of grumpy birders all desperate for a glimpse of just one of these at Lands End would simply have detracted from and demeaned this recollection. My only White-rumped Swift zipped past and onward in southern Portugal in May 2014, but hey I self-found it and that was a better view than most of British twitching’s finest got in Blighty earlier this week. Maybe waiting patiently to live the dream, on my own terms or especially within range, can be motivating after all.

2018 has produced a plentiful autumn passage for Pectoral Sandpiper with more than 30 records in some weeks throughout the British Isles. This is perhaps the most frequently recorded Nearctic wader at this time of year, but has not featured before in this journal. One bird that caught my eye, due to its closeness to home, has been present at a National Trust estate, The Vyne just north-east of Basingstoke since 23rd September.

When first reported I feared this would be a difficult location to access since it looked like private land adjacent to the NT house and park. But subsequent posts on RBA mentioned a bird hide, which sounded promising. When the “Pec Sand” was still there a very wet day ago I resolved to go and explore the site this fine and sunny morning. So at 9am I parked by an entrance to the estate (SU 62476 57256) in Morgaston Wood near a village Sherborne St John.

The directions on RBA had been typically vague, merely saying walk through the woods. So I followed the only public right of way that was marked on the historical anachronism I prefer to take on any twitch (often to the mild amusement of other birders), an OS map print-out from Streetmap.co.uk. This route skirted the edge of the woodland but at a point from which it continued over open country there was no way across to the water meadows.

I then enquired of a jogger who said the entire wood is part of the NT estate and hence open access land through which a number of visitor trails run. My mind was thus set at rest over any potential trespass on my part and I followed one such path eastward through the wood. It led to a downward board walk at the foot of which was the bird hide. And before that rather well appointed facility stretched the said Vyne Water Meadows (pictured below).

The Vyne Water Meadows: there’s a Pec Sand out there somewhere

For the next hour, looking into the light, I scanned the patchwork of glistening mud and sunlit water. I was the only person in the hide, hence finding this bird for myself held much appeal. There were a small flock of Lapwing, scattered Moorhen here and there, a few Gulls and two Grey Heron; but my quest was nowhere visible. Then at 10:25 suddenly, fairly close inshore to the left of the central small Willow in the picture was a small and bright looking buff and white wader: the Pectoral Sandpiper.

This was my third career record and I will admit the other two were more a name that I needed rather than a bird I knew much about. But this time I had read up thoroughly on the species a day earlier, and knew exactly what to look for and how to identify this Nearctic vagrant. Pec Sand is a medium-sized wader slightly larger than Dunlin, with a rather elongated, pear shaped stature and long primary projection. The legs are yellowish, while the bill is slightly de-curved.

Other diagnostics in passage juveniles are a weak split supercilium, a white V on the mantle edges; and the neat, finely streaked “pectoral” breast band that ends sharply against the white belly. The bird I was observing was too distant for much of this to be clear, but at all times the bright white underparts and clearly demarked border between the breast band and belly stood out. To continue quoting my sources, juveniles that make up the vast majority of autumnal vagrants are generally more finely patterned than adult summer birds, and the crown and upper parts are fringed chestnut, white and buff. Since the post-breeding moult takes place in the wintering grounds, adult winter plumage is rarely seen in western Europe.

These archive pictures (below), taken by Adam in Cornwall in the autumn of 2011, show the plumage detail described. My thanks are due to him for kindly allowing me to use them here.

Pectoral Sandpiper (juv) © and courtesy of Adam Hartley

Ditto © Adam Hartley

I watched the Vyne bird for around 30 minutes. When amongst other waders such as Dunlin, Pec Sand feeds just like them in an active and mobile fashion. But solitary birds are often slow, furtive and inconspicuous, creeping around on flexed legs with the head down and a constant, rapid, vertical picking action. My bird remained alone for most of the time but would also wander amongst the Lapwing that were completely tolerant of it’s presence.

This is a very long distance migrant. The breeding range spans the far-northern Arctic tundra, being spread across Siberia and North America. The greater part of the population winters in South America, largely via a migratory route over the west Atlantic, though a small number of Siberian breeders head to Australia and New Zealand. Adults begin their southward dispersal in June, to be followed by juveniles from early August. Strong westerly winds in September and October bring juveniles regularly to western Europe.

Today’s bird seems settled at the site, and why shouldn’t it be given the habitat? Getting pictures of it was pretty much out of the question, given the distance and I was also looking into the sun. Indeed no pictures of this particular individual have appeared on RBA so far. For their gallery of Pec Sand at other British sites this autumn see here.

The exercise desribed here has been a good education on the species and I would now expect to identify Pectoral Sandpiper at once should I see more of them in the future. My previous experiences were at Keyhaven, Hants (Aug 1997); and Eton Wick, Berks (Sep 2012).