What a vintage year this is turning out to be for Oxon. Usually as a land-locked county about as far as one can get from the sea we have to be content with picking up scraps of the occasional rarities and it's easily possible to go a whole year without any sniff of a county tick. However, this year we've already had Red-footed Falcon, Savi's Warbler, Marsh Sandpiper and Manx Shearwater and even a Honey Buzzard that was twitched by a few dedicated county birders. Surely there couldn't be any more this year? Well, it turned out that there was more to come.
There was a certain sense of dejá vu to proceedings when county rarity finding machine JD messaged the local WhatsApp group to say that he thought he had a Bluethroat at the second screen at Otmoor. He was the same finder who initiated the last major twitch with the the Standlake Marsh Sandpiper. Once again, this wasn't twitchable on the day it was found, with only half an hour of daylight left once the ID had been firmed up . With it taking getting on for an hour from door to the second screen once the long 1.5 mile walk was factored in, there was no point in dropping everything so myself, no doubt along with the great and the good of the county, all feverishly started making our plans for the next day. Personally I had no meetings to worry about for the next morning so planned to be there at first light.
Thus it was that I was up at the ungoldly hour of 5:20 a.m. and driving through the dark deserted streets of Oxford on the twenty minute journey to the car park at Otmoor. Here I found half a dozen other cars all parked up and other twitchers getting ready in the darkness. I found myself in the company of SM as we walked quickly along the paths in the darkness before eventually arriving at the second screen - about as far from the car park on the reserve as it's possible to get. There were about half a dozen others already there and in the half light I found a spot to set up my scope and join in the vigil.
The view from the second screen looking towards the distant reedbed
We were looking out onto a pool of water surrounded on three sides by reeds. Last night JD had reported that it had been seen on and off in one particular area of the reedbed, working its way in and out of the base of the reeds. Now this species is notorious for often being really tricky to see with it's preferred reedbed habitat often making viewing extremely difficult. However, JD's account of it being seen regularly was reassurring. So it was just a question of whether it was still there. We were about to find out.
In the dawn gloom it was hard to make much out but we all peered intently at the base of the reeds, trying to find our target bird. The distances weren't helpful, with it being at least 100 yards to the back of the pool and it wasn't easy to make much out in the murk. Some 30 minutes or so passed and the crowd was just starting to get a bit restless when eagled eyed Uber Birder TM announced that he thought he had it right at the back. The trouble was that there were so few landmarks and we all scrambled to get on it. Things like "behind the cluster of white feathers", "next to the sleeping Snipe", "working it's way left" were bandied about as we all did our best. Eventually I was able to get on it, just making out its pale breast as it moved surprisingly rapidly amongst the reeds and along the shore. With confirmation from a second person, news was put out and soon after everyone else managed to get on it. Even with multiple directions it was often difficult to connect and there were times when I couldn't see it despite the person right next to me being on it and giving directions. Gradually however, it worked it's way left and nearer and as the light got better we all started to get better views. After showing regularly from about 7:10 a.m. onwards, at about 7:40 a.m. it worked it's way right into the corner where there was a hidden channel that couldn't be viewed.
As a first winter male, this bird didn't have its blue throat yet so it wasn't possible to pin it down to subspecies. In fact, after reading up on it more, there are more than just the White-spotted and Red-spotted subspecies as it's a fairly widely distributed chat. Indeed it can be found right across Europe and Asia and even has a foothold in Western Alaska. It is migratory and winters in the Iberian Peninsula, the northern half of Africa and also southern Asia. Whilst this bird was clearly a bit lost, with climate change we can no doubt start to expect more Bluethroats in the years to come. After all, the Slimbridge bird had now been visiting for the last five years.
While waiting for the return of the star bird, there were a other few bits and pieces around to look at. A Water Rail was right out in the open and a Great White Egret was feeding in the pool along with a few Little Egrets and a Grey Heron. There were a few Teal, Gadwall and Mallards on the water, a couple of Kingfishers buzzing around, a Ringed Plover on the island in front of the hide and a Marsh Harrier sitting in a tree at the back. It was all very agreeable.
Photo, taken the next day by Richard Stevens
More people started to arrive though to be honest I was somewhat surprised that there hadn't been more at first light. TM left first - it was literally his last day in Oxford (what a wonderful parting gift!) and he had to get on with moving out. With the bird not having been seen for about half an hour and, starting to feel rather tired after my early start, I decided to head back home soon after. I ambled contentedly back along the paths, enjoying the autumnal hedgerow scenery before eventually getting back to the car and heading back to Casa Gnome via Summertown for some shopping.
The bird eventually reappeared and showed on and off throughout the day. Indeed, at the time of writing this, it was still around the following day. I wonder how long it might end up staying? In any event it was yet another a great county bird this year. Could there possibly be even more before the year is out? Given events so far one can't rule it out!
It's that time of year again when I have to take one of my offspring back to University somewhere. These days it's my son up to York University where he is starting his second year of his Maths degree. As always, in the days leading up to the trip I kept a keen eye on any twitchable goodies that might even vaguely be considered en route but with prevailing strong south westerly winds the North East was looking very deserted on that front. In the end a bout of illness postponed the trip for a day so it wasn't until Tuesday that I felt well enough to sally forth. During a quick scan the previous evening for what had been about I noticed a long staying juvenile Dotterel on Burbage Moor just to the south west of Sheffield. Now, this seemed like a reasonable low key candidate: it had been there for several days so if it was reported again that morning there was a high chance it would be around all day; it wasn't too far out of my way and also it would involve a little walk up in some lovely moorland landscape in the Peak Distrct. What's not to like? After having missed a day of work from my illness and in the absence of anything more substantial to twitch and, I decided to return the same day rather than stay overnight so as to not miss any more days of work. So, that was the plan.
We set off from Oxford just after 10am and after an uneventful journey north along the M1 we turned up at my son's student digs for the year. It turned out to be a substantial Victorian house on one of the main arteries into the city. We unloaded all his gear and said our goodbyes and then I was on my way. It was about one and three quarter hours to Burbage Moor, back down the M1 and then off towards and through Sheffield, a city I'd not been to before. The centre reminded me of Newcastle in many respects and there were some nice leafy suburbs that I was taken through before emerging out onto a higher road that lead up to the Peak District moorland. I had a brief moment of concern when the route took me through the "Clean Air Zone" of Sheffield and said that I had to pay on-line. However, when I later looked this up it turned out that this didn't apply to my car - phew!
I duly arrived at the RBA-suggested parking spot where there about ten or so other cars parked. I got tooled up in my walking boots, bins and camera (no scope required for this judging by the crippling photos that I'd seen on-line) and headed up the sloping path that lead past a farm house and up onto the moorland. I kept my eyes and ears open for birdage on the way but apart from a Pied Wagtail and a Mipit there was nothing. Still, the weather was sunny with no sign of any rain clouds that had plagued the morning's journey and I was enjoying the landscape and being able to stretch my legs. After about 10 minutes or so I arrived at the twitch spot with about 10 other birders all hanging around, many with large lenses and a few with scopes. It was a funny location that looked suspiciously man made given how neatly circular it was. It was about 20 metres across with a bit of a crater inside that was holding some recent rainwater. Around the sides it sloped down a metre or so to the level of the surrounding grass. This grass only lasted a few metres before giving way to the moorland heather that otherwise dominated the scenery.
Google Maps Screenshot - the Dotterel was on the right-hand side of the bare patch. You can just see outlines of other circles to the right of this one. I've no idea what they are for.
The twitch location, showing the weird "crater" area the bird was frequenting
I asked a fellow twitcher about the bird and had it pointed out to me, lurking behind the raised area in the surrounding grass. It was wandering about a lot, sometimes up onto the crater where we all papped away like crazy and sometimes out of sight on the far side of the crater. When in the hinterland, it could sometimes be viewed by going to one side and looking across at an angle. It was all very relaxed and pleasant - just the low stress twitch that I was after. I took some photos with my superzoom but found that it was often rather difficult for the autofocus to lock on so quite a few came out blurry. However, so close was the bird that even I managed some acceptable photos of this obliging bird.
After a while I decided to head off for a little wander on the moors. I was hoping to score something interesting like a Grouse or maybe even a Merlin but in the event I only saw a few Mipits. Still it was nice to take in the vast emptiness of the moors and to empty my mind of any thoughts.
Above and below the "wild and windy" moors
I headed back for one last look at the Dotterel and the started to wander back down to the car. There I detooled and set the Sat Nav for home, about two and three quarter hours away. To start with I had the benefit of driving through the gentle rolling countyside of the Peak District before rejoining the horror that is the M1. I stopped off at a service station for dinner (which was pretty horrible) and eventually got back to Casa Gnome about about 8:45 pm. A low key but successful Uni Run trip with a nice bird and some lovely scenery.
I was just sitting in bed, unwinding after a busy day and idely scrolling on my phone when a message pinged in the Oxon birding WhatsApp chat. JD had apparently photographed a distant wader from the hide at Pit 60 in Standlake that morning. It wasn't until the evening when he looked through them that he starting wondering if the bird was actually a Marsh Sandpiper rather than a Greenshank as he had originally assumed. He shared the photos and after some discussion, the consensus was clearly in favour of Marsh Sandpiper. After all, there was a photo of it looking dwarfed by a Snipe so the size was immediately apparent. By the time the chat had died down it was after 11pm - way past my bedtime! I looked up what time sunrise was - 6:11 a.m. Oh well, it looked like I was going to be up early tomorrow!
The next morning I awoke at 4:30 a.m. and dozed until about 5:30 before realising that I was a bit late if I was going to be there at first light. So I rushed around as quietly as possible (so as not to wake anyone else) and was out the door shortly after 6 a.m. It was pouring with rain and consequently very dark and gloomy as I sped along the roads towards Standlake with just early commuters for company. En route news came through firstly of the bird still being present and secondly to confirm that everyone there did indeed agree that it was a Marsh Sandpiper. So it was game on! Arriving at Standlake, I parked up, donned all my waterproof gear and hurried down the path on the long slog to the east hide where the bird was to be viewed from. It wasn't particularly cold, just wet and in all my waterproof gear I soon got hot and sweaty. No time to worry about that now - there was a twitch on! En route to help pass the time I counted eight singing or calling Chiffchaff and one singing Willow Warbler. The slog seemed to go for ever until finally I arrived, breathless and sweaty at the hide door and knocked (it was a key holder hide and I didn't have one) and was soon let in.
Any doubts that I had were soon put to rest: yes, the bird was still there and someone immediately let me look through their scope "for the tick" and I could relax. There were five other people there before me and I found somewhere to sit, set up my scope and was soon on the bird. It was rather distant though its pallor stood out in the gloom and it was rather easy to pick up. I did try some digiscoping but the distance and light made it all but useless so I just contented myself with watching it. It was constantly on the move, shifting from bay to bay, constantly seeking out food. It's delicate bill and diminutive size made it look more like a Phalorope than a Greenshank, something I remember noting the only other time I saw one, in Gloucestershire back in 2014.
A representative view showing how distant it typically was, courtesy of Ewan Urquhart
The bird was generally hugging the southern shore which was lined with reeds but which had various bays dotted along it, at which the bird was feeding actively. Also present were a couple of Black-tailed Godwits, a Water Rail and a Common Sandpiper. It seemed to be unsure of where it preferred to feed as it was constantly trying new places. It would often have a little fly about before settling on the next location and was generally very active.
Flight shot courtesy of Ewan Urquhart
At one stage it briefly dropped in on a spit which was only about 40 yards from where we were. At that point the hide went into overdrive with everyone trying their best to photograph it while at the same time making "ooh yeah, that's it!", "come on, come closer!", "phwoar, look at that!" type of comments. Someone standing outside the hide door and listening would have been forgiven for thinking something altogether different was going on. I managed to botch my photo attempts during this brief "porning it" frenzy so below is the best effort of TM who was quicker off the mark.
Above and below, phonescoped courtesy of Thomas Miller
After that, it tried the north shore a bit, exploring all the nooks and crannies on that side before eventually returning to the favoured southern shore were it spent the rest of the time while I was there. With the bird easy to at least see even if it was too distant to photograph, the atmosphere was very genial and it soon turned to the usual friendly banter. People came and went, we reminisced about past county birds and generally talked the kind of rubbish that goes on at these events - and very enjoyable it was too!
Hot Hide Action (me in the middle with my trademark cap) courtesy of Ewan Urquhart
DL, in the hide was busy doing an eBird day list and we all got interested in what else was about. There were a couple of Great White Egrets, various assorted ducks including the much persecuted Duck That Must Not Be Named, the two Godwits, the Common Sandpiper and various Warblers which were being picked out at remarkable distances as they appeared in the reedbed near where the Marsh Sandpiper happened to be.
The Marsh Sandpiper (Tringa stagnatilis) is a small wader that breeds in open grassy steppe and taiga wetlands from easternmost Europe to the Russian Far East. The majority of birds winter in Africa and India, with some migrating to Southeast Asia and Australia. They prefer to winter on fresh water wetlands such as swamps and lakes and are usually seen singly or in small groups. In terms of their UK rarity value, they were pretty rare with 146 records between 1950 and 2022. Scanning through the recent records there seem to be a few each year though in some years they are not recorded at all. From an Oxon perspective, there has only been one previous record which was a bird that was found in August 2007 in Abingdon before relocating to Farmoor the next day and then disappearing. So certainly a proper county Mega! With two birds in the country at the time, this was thought to be the one relocating from Devon
As I had a client session at 10 a.m. I eventually had to tear myself away so I walked back to the car in the company of a couple of other birders who were leaving at the same time. Then it was back towards Oxford and Casa Gnome with a great county Mega safely tucked into my belt. The bird briefly disappeared mid morning when a Marsh Harrier flushed it but was back again fairly soon. It stayed for the rest of the day but was gone the next morning. Despite that, the memory of a great bird will linger on for some time to come.
Most birders with their finger anywhere remotely near the pulse of national birding news will be aware of the discovery last Sunday of a Zitting Cisticola in Walberswick in Suffolk. Now, most recent records of this species have been of either single-observer sightings or birds that only a nearby local could possibly twitch. During my time birding there haven't really been any twitchable birds to even make me ponder slightly the prospect of an attempt. However, this bird has set up territory and had been doing regular display flights for a number of days - it was emminently twitchable! So what was stopping me making a return journey to Suffolk? Well, firstly, the views were by all accounts extremely distant. I was told that it was only viewable in flight and that it was a good 100 metres away. Secondly, I was very busy with work all week and while I could have rearranged things, I wasn't really feeling the urge so desperately that I would do this. For me there is a certain inertial barrier to twitching which requires a reasonable amount of keeness/desperation to see a bird to push me to take the necessary steps. That tipping point wasn't quite being reached so I watched from the sidelines. However, come the weekend the rest of the family were heading to London for the day. Being left to my own devices all day was the extra push I needed and I decided to get up early and head off on news. In any event, I had enjoyed my previous trip to Suffolk to see the Black Stork and with Minsmere nearby I decided to make a day of it.
My sleep patterns presently are a bit hit and miss. They go through periods where it's pretty good and other more disrupted periods. I was currently in the latter mode. This meant that I woke far too early and with thoughts of my day's outing in my head I wasn't able to get back to sleep. Hey ho - not to worry: I'm sure the adrenaline rush of the kind of high octane birding I was planning would carry me through the day - lol! . At 6am I sent a news request out on the national twitching WhatsApp group to which I belong and shortly got back a "it's still here" reply. That was the green light and I got up, finished sorting out my stuff (I'd done as much as possible the previous night) and I was out the door and on my way by 6:30am. Google Maps was reporting a journey time of just 3 hours at this time of the morning on a Saturday and with the roads initially empty I made good progress. A pit stop at the M25 northbound services and then it was the long slog north on the A12, this time even further than before. Shortly before 10am I arrived at Walberswick, which turned out to be a cute Suffolk town, similar in architectural style to Orford though heaving with people all heading to the beach. I parked up, and after a study of the map, found the correct path to take towards the bird, passing through an enclave of beach huts and tents where people were just getting started with their day of "beaching". I could see the line of twitchers in the distance and hurried along as best I could though the option of either soft sand or shifting shingle to walk on meant that progress was rather slow.
The beach on my left was all shingle and sloped fairly steeply down to the grey of the sea. Given the wind direction coming from the land there were very few waves and it was pretty flat as far as the eye could see. On the landward side there salt marshes with little pools and then a bigger pool area. A helpful notice mentioned not tresspassing on the roped off areas because of nesting Little Terns and Ringed Plovers. An entomologist (or bug'er - ha ha!) was sweeping his large net back and forth over the reeds in one section - no doubt catching interesting specialist species. I imagine this location is just the sort of place to find a newly arrived insect colonist. Of course the day's target might also be an early arrival of a potential future avian colonist to this country. Apparently Fan-tailed Warblers (to give them their older and frankly much better title - "Zitting Cisticola" is a stupid name!) are moving northwards and can be found in France and parts of Germany now.
After about twenty minutes I arrived at the twitch line of about twenty or more birders all looking out across the reeds. A tentative enquiry found that the bird was to be seen along the line of raised reeds marked with a little wooden fence though was usually only being seen in flight. Not long after people near me called out that the bird was singing again and flying briefly to the right quite low. I raised my bins and scanned frantically before briefly picking up the target bird low in flight against the backdrop of the reeds before it dropped down again. It's funny how when you see something completely new, that you somehow know it's the right bird despite it just being a little brown job in amongst other LBJs such as Reed Buntings. I remember the same thing the first time I saw the Aquatic Warbler in Sussex. Despite just seeing a brown blur in flight, the combination of colours and jizz just seemed different. Anyway, the bird was in the bag though with only a second or two of views, I certainly wanted more.
The view from the twitch line. The slightly raised darker reeds roughly in the middle of the photo was where the bird was hanging out
The bird was certainly co-operating. It was typically being seen or at least heard at intervals of between 10 and 30 minutes so there were plenty of opportunities. However, it terms of connecting, things started to get a bit difficult for me. People were regularly reporting it singing though with my dodgy hearing I usually couldn't pick it up. When I did occasionally hear it, it sounded to my ears like a Yellow Wagtail though instead of being drawn-out and down-slurred, it was compressed to a shorter, sharper duration and without the slur. As well as not hearing it, there was also the matter of picking it out in flight. A number of times it would be called out as in flight and constant instructions given of where it was in relation to distant landmarks. So "over the dead tree", "above the wood", "over the church", "over the X house" where X described a number of large distant houses on the horizon such as "thatched", "pink", "wooden" etc. However, try as I might, I just couldn't get onto it. As well as having trouble with my hearing, I really do struggle with birds against the sky. Eventaully I cottoned onto the fact that the bird was actually much higher in the air than I was looking and finally, after half a dozen failures, I manged to pick it out in flight. However, my troubles didn't quite end there - my bins are completely knackered with the entire right eyepiece so scratched and messed up that I was told by a fellow birder who tried them that it was remarkable that I could see anything at all. So following the undulating small brown blob as it ducked and dived all over the place wasn't easy either. I also rather felt that the fact that I couldn't hear it "zitting" was rather detracting from my full appreciation of it's most characteristic feature. Still I did my best.
The Zitting Cisticola Twitch
Between flights there wasn't too much else to look at. Some Terns were fishing on the sea including some Little Terns. I heard the brief scolding call of a Sylvia Warbler that sounded like a Dartford to me and indeed I overheard someone else mention a couple of times that they'd heard or seen one. There was the occasional distant pass of a raptor with Red Kite and Sparrowhawk both seen. Curlews and Redshank would periodically fly by calling and an Avocet was on the nearby pool. It was all very pleasant albeit rather low key. Oxon birder NT and his wife dropped in to say hello. They'd been at the other end of the twitch line and were just leaving to go and see the Black Stork.
Part of my process to compensate for my struggle in connecting, was to figure out who were the sharp birders who knew what they were doing and to try to sit or stand near them. They would hear or see the bird and call it out loudly and give running instructions which at least gave me a fighting chance. The stiff breeze was also making it difficult for me to hear the instructions (I realised I am starting to sound rather pathetic!) but
somehow I managed the best I could.
"Portrait of a Struggling Birder" - selfie of me next to the sharp younger birders, waiting for them to find it for me
Eventually a whole bunch of the sharp birders decided to leave. By this time I'd managed to see it in song flight three times, alongside my initial low level flight view. Somehow, this didn't quite feel like enough so I decided to hang around a bit longer. However, surveying the remaining crew, I started to wonder whether they were all "waiting for someone else to find it" kind of birders, as I had come to accept I was on this trip. There was a young couple sitting quietly on the ridge of the dunes who were keeping entirely to themselves. However, by watching them I could tell that they were periodically picking it out but not wanting (I guess out of shyness) to call anything out at all. I tried to follow their bin movements but without any landmark-calling it was even harder than usual. Eventually some of the others heard it singing and picked it out in flight and once more I was able to get onto it. Having got my extra flight view I now felt that I'd seen it enough and started to head back.
What a Zitting Cisticola actually looks like! Courtesy of Nick Truby
I took my time on the way back, stopping to admire the scenery and some of the coastal flora.
Sea Holly
Sea Kale
Yellow Horned Poppy (sadly gone over - I've yet to see this species in flower)
The beach was much busier now and back near the car park there were quite a lot of people all out in what was becoming quite a hot day now. Back at the car I fired up the Gnome-mobile and headed the short 20 minutes down the road to Minsmere.
I'd only been to the RSPB's flagship reserve once before, back in August 2016 for the Western Purple Swamphen. When I re-read my account of seeing that bird I am reminded of just how incredibly lucky I was to connect with it at last light on the last day it was there. I must have been one of the last people to see it. Anyway, I was back again under more leisurely circumstance to have a little wander around. It was getting decidedly hot as I tooled up in the carpark and headed to the entrance before having to retrace my steps to get my RSPB membership card that I'd forgotten. Eventually I was inside the reserve and pondering where to go. There were three areas to explore: woodland, reedbed or scrape. In the end I opted for the scrapes. The South hide (near where the Swamphen had been) overlooked near empty scrapes with almost all the water having dried up. There was a single Avocet and a few sad looking ducks but that was about it.
Minsmere Avocet above & below
I'd seen on RBA that a Spotted Redshank had been reported from the East Hide first thing that morning so I decided to head around there next. The tiredness from my lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me in the heat and it took a lot of effort to push onwards, carrying all my birding gear including scope, tripod and camera. Eventually I reached the East Hide to discover it was full of young families all keenly trying to identify what were very distant bird specks on the furthest pool away, that being the only one with any water left on it. Not that I'm complaining about the young families - after all, that kind of outreach is just the sort of visitor the RSPB is wanting to encourage so it was great to see so many engaged young minds. I found a quiet corner and set up my scope. It was rather hazy in the heat but there were plenty of birds to sift through. Lots of Black-tailed Godwits, some still in summer plumage, some moulted to winter already. There were five Green Sandpipers at the back and a variety of eclipsed ducks that I didn't make too much effort over. A family of Shelduck were there as well as a number of Greylag and Canada Geese with a single Barnacle Goose thrown in. All good stuff but I couldn't find the Spotted Redshank. Not that I was particularly bothered. Eventually I decided to leave the shade of the hide and to head back out into the heat of the afternoon.
I decided to head back to the café via the coastal path rather than the boardwalk. Up on the dunes a mystery bird perched on some Gorse as I viewed directly into the sun had me puzzled for a while before I worked out it was a Stonechat (I should have guessed!). A kindly older visitor pointed out a lovely Wasp Spider in the grass which was great to see. There was little else to see apart from more coastal flora of similar species to the ones I'd seen at Walberswick as I trudged along the dune ridge back towards the visitor centre.
An impressive Wasp Spider
There I ordered a cup of tea and something to eat before collapsing in a shady corner of the outdoor terrace of the café. Here I spent some time cooling off and reviving myself with my tea and cake. Whilst there, I reflected on my trouble connecting with the target bird this morning. As far as not being able to hear the bird, I had previously dabbled with some NHS hearing aids though had come to the conclusion that I wasn't sure how much they actually helped. Maybe I need to revist this or perhaps invest in a proper pair of hearing aids. At the very least I made a mental note to bring my NHS hearing aids along to twitches in the future. In terms of not being able to see the bird, it was time to bite the bullet and get a new pair of bins. After all, given how much I have used my current pair, it would be money well spent however eye-wateringly expensive they might be. I guess it was time I stepped up and splashed out some money if I want to be able to keep on birding properly. The travails of getting older.
It was time to head home. I de-tooled and fired up the Gnome-mobile, and pointed her in the direction of home, It was much hotter now and with the air conditioning still broken (yet another pending outlay!) I had to have the windows open and to endure the noise which meant I couldn't listen to the radio. Still the miles gradually passed and the endless A12 finally became the M25 again and then the M40. As I'd done in my previous Suffolk visit, I stopped at the Beaconsfield Services for dinner there before the final leg home to Casa Gnome. It had been another successful day out in deepest, darkest Suffolk and another shiny new tick to my name.
Black Stork is a species that has been on my radar for quite a few years now. Unlike it's commoner White cousin, it's quite a hard bird to twich in the UK. I had a failed attempt to see one down in Cornwall in June 2021 (see here). Apart from that I've never had the opportunity to try to twitch one. There was one that was seen regularly at Frampton in the autumn of 2023 which I consider twitching but never went for. So when one turned up in Suffolk at RSPB Boyton Marshes it certainly piqued my interest. However, initial reports were of it being rather elusive and unreliable with it apparently prone to suddenly flying off, not to be seen again for the rest of the day. Given the three hour drive it would take me, that was too much of a gamble and I'd put it out of my mind. However, yesterday morning I was sitting in bed with a cup of tea, catching up on yesterday's bird news when I noticed that the Black Stork had been seen all day yesterday from the same ditch. Had it now established a routine? I was still in two minds about it - it generally takes a little while for the twitching juices to work themselves up enough for me to get motivated. I looked at some of the photos which seemed to be taken from really close quarters. Was it by chance "porning it" (to use twitcher slang) ? I looked at my appointments calendar for today - completely empty. I'd not been anywhere for a while and decided that a day trip to the coast would be good for me even if I didn't see the bird. So in the end I decided to go for it. I got my gear together, made a flask of tea and grabbed a few snacks and headed out the door at around 9:40am. A quick stop for petrol and then it was the long slog down the M40, M25 and up the A12. Finally at around 12:30pm I started the "final descent" onto increasingly narrow countryside roads until I found myself pulling up in a small car park with a few other cars by some farm buildings that marked the start of Boyton Marshes.
I got tooled up and was just trying to work out which way to go when another car pulled up. It was a lady birder who turned out to be a local who knew exactly which way to go having seen the bird a couple of days ago, (albeit only in flight). So we teamed up as she led me on the half an hour walk along the sea wall. It turned out that we walked at a similar pace (it's always difficult if the person leading you walks too slowly!) and we soon struck up a conversation. She knew all the local sites and did a lot of voluntary conservation work in the county so there was lots to talk about. One of the things I really like about birding is how it can give an immediate conversational "in" which can lead to meeting all sort of interesting people. We got on well and, personally, it was nice to have a twitch companion as a change from my usual solo efforts.
To start with I had the usual "will it fly away before I get there" nerves. We could see the handful of birders a long way in the distance and I wondered if we'd see the bird if it were to fly off . My companion assured me that when it flew it was usually towards Orford Ness which should mean that it would pass over our heads as we walked along the sea wall. The fact that the distant birders were staying put was an encouraging sign and the occasional returning twitcher would always reassure us that it was still there. As we walked I took in all the wonderful scenery. It was a lovely tidal landscape with salt marshes on the near side and the distant island of Orford Ness on the far bank of the River Alde. On the landward side of the sea wall were reedbeds, some fields and some (sadly) dried up scrapes. My companion said that Bearded Tits were to be found there so I kept my ears open, though without any success.
Eventually we got close enough that we could see along the ditch where the twitchers were standing, still a good few hundred yards away. I had a scan with the bins and lo and behold there was the Black Stork! It was striding across the ditch before tucking itself close in out of sight under the near bank. At least I'd managed to see it and I could now relax.
My first view of the Black Stork in the distance
We walked the last few hundred yards and joined the ten or so other twitchers. From where they were standing the bird was completely hidden, tucked as it was under the near bank. Still they'd reportedly already seen it very well as it had spent a good amount of time out in the open more or less opposite them. So I took the chance to put down all of the clobber I was carrying (including my unneeded scope) and to pour myself a cup of tea from my flask. After I'd refreshed myself enough I got to thinking that when the bird was tucked in like this, where we were standing was probably the worst place to be and that by moving along the bank a bit I might get a better view. So I went about 100 yards back the way I came and was just looking around when I spotted it right out in the open opposite where I was standing. It had clearly crept along the near bank quite a distance before coming out into the open again. I managed to whistle loud enough for the distant birders to hear me and they came over to pap away at the bird while it was out in the open.
It
was very impressive to see such a large bird so close, it being no more
than 30 metres away. As a juvenile, instead of being a proper black
colour it was a rather drab brownish colour on the head and back and was without the bright red
bare parts of the adult bird. I took some video and photos with my
SuperZoom bridge camera and after a few minutes the bird once again
moved under the near bank and out of sight again.
Some video, best viewed at HD1080
This proved to be the main
pattern of behaviour with it often being out of sight before making an
appearance for a few minutes, each time in a similar area and each time
ridiculously close. It didn't seem to mind the birders being so close
and just fed away happily as it walked about. I presumed that it was
feeding just as happily when it was out of sight but along the near bank
rather than the far one.
I'd mentally told myself that at 2:30pm or after one more showing, I would leave and the bird duly put in another appearance pretty soon after that. So, true to my word I started to head back and my birding companion for the day decided to come with me. We walked slowly back so that we could enjoy the sights and sounds of this lovely reserve. Not that there was a a great deal to see but it was very atmospheric so I took lots of scenic photos.
Above and below, the picturesque salt marsh landscape
On the way back we managed to hear (and my companion even briefly saw) some Bearded Tits. Back near the entrance we came across a Common Sandpiper and on the pond near the car park was a Green Sandpiper. We did look for the resident Little Owl but without any success. After that we said our goodbyes and parted company.
I decided to nip over to Orford to have a wander around and to get a cup of tea so set off on the 20 minute journey. I'd visited once before many years ago and it was as picturesque as I remembered it though with far more tourists - it was pretty much empty back then. I wandered along the shoreline a bit, taking photos and just enjoy the landscape before going for a cup of tea and something to eat at a little café on the shoreline of the river. It was all very lovely and I enjoyed just sitting in the afternoon sunshine and thinking not much at all.
Above and below, Orford scenes
Eventually I had to pull myself out of my reverie and to start to think about the journey back. I headed back to the car park and fired up the Gnome-mobile and set the Sat Nav co-ordinates for back home. The journey back was uneventful though rather long though Radio 4 did manage to help while away the time. I stopped at a service station for dinner once I was back on the M40 as I knew I'd be too tired to want to prepare anything for myself once I got home. I eventually arrived back home at Casa Gnome just after 9pm, very tired but very pleased with my day out to Suffolk and my shiny new tick.
Norfolk Hawker, as you may guess from the name, is traditional associated with East Anglia and has up until now been confined to east Norfolk around the Broads area. Indeed, I made a special trip to Strumpshaw Fen back in 2016 where I saw my only one (along with Swallowtail Butterfly and Scarce Chaser). So when last year JD photographed one at RSPB Otmoor in Oxon, it was a very unusual record. It seemed to be a one-off sighting as there were no further reports of it and to my knowledge no one attempted to twitch it.
Fast forward to this year and last Friday evening GC found a Norfolk Hawker on the Blenheim estate at Woodstock. It was frequenting a small area at the end of a side arm of the main lake where GC watched it for just a minutes, allowing him time to grab some photos to clinch the ID. Whilst this was certainly interesting, the fact that it hadn't been found until after 6pm and that it was only seen for a short period of time meant that, as far as I was concerned, it wasn't worth trying to twitch it. Still it had piqued my interest enough for me to wonder whether it was worth trying to find it the next day.
Come Saturday morning, with the rest of the family out for the day I thought about what I wanted to do. In the end I opted for visiting Radley Lakes to try to catch up with some Lesser Emperor dragonflies, which after last year's invasion, were being seen regularly at this site along with others in the county. I was half way around the main lake there, having just seen one briefly so far when news came through on the local WhatsApp message chat that GC had refound the Norfolk Hawker in the same place. I messaged him for details and then hurried back to the car to head off to Blenheim which was about half an hour away. He told me that it was quicker and quieter to park up at Combe Lodge gate and the walk in from there. I hurried off and negotiated the fairly light traffic and the winding back roads that lead up to Combe Lodge. It was another baking hot day though once I'd passed through the gate and entered the cool of the wood it was much more pleasant. It had been a few years since I'd been to this end of the Blenheim estate and I enjoyed the quiet coolness of the woodland as I walked towards the location.
I had wondered how easy it might be to find the target on my own but in the end I needn't have worried as GC was still there, standing by the metal gate where he has instructed me to go. As soon as I arrived he pointed it out to me. It was by far the nearest dragonfly, patrolling steadily up and down within about 5 yards of the gate. It's flight was rather measured and steady and it was easy to pick out the salient features even in the air. The green eyes at the end of the otherwise brown Hawker-sized body along with the clear wings were immediately obvious. During the three quarters of an hour that I was there it was constantly on show and constantly flying. GC told me that it had only just started to do this shortly before I arrived and had been only intermittently on view prior to that.
The Norfolk Hawker in flight courtesy of Gareth Cashburn
Looking around there were various other large dragonflies: several Emperors and Brown Hawkers were about though they were always much more distant. GC told me that the Norfolk Hawker had been very aggressively defending that area over the reeds by the gate so I guess the others species had learned to stay away. GC told me that he thought that there might in fact be two of them and this was later confirmed by photographs though I never saw more than the one.
The Norfolk Hawker site - it liked to patrol over the near reedbed
After a while I decided to head over to the main lake to look for Lesser Emperors. GC had seen several yesterday on the Main Lake by Rosamund's Well. We headed over there together in the increasing heat and spent some time looking. We found a couple though they were very distant right out in the middle of the lake and there were no photo opportunities. GC had to leave so I headed back to the Norfolk Hawker site. There was no initial sign of it though after about 10 minutes it was suddenly buzzing around again in the same area. Apparently, this species is known for settling and staying still for much longer than most Hawker species which are usually constantly on the wing. I watched it for a little while longer before headed back towards the car, out of the heat into the coolness of the woodland once more.
A perched photo of the Norfolk Hawker, taken the next day courtesy of Ewan Urquhart
The Norfolk Hawker was subsequently reported for a few more days but not seen at all the following weekend. However, JD went and found one at Otmoor - was it starting to establish itself in the county? With Southern Migrant Hawker, Lesser Emperor and Willow Emerald all having recently colonised the county it seemed that Norfolk Hawker too could become a county regular. Certainly I look forward to further encounters with this species in the county.
This week, my twitching buddies PL & EU were planning a trip to Suffolk, organised by the Hardy Orchid Society, to see a rare Tongue Orchid. There was much to-ing and fro-ing in sorting out the details and at the last minute EU cried off (called by the siren song of a couple of Mega's up north) and then the trip organiser himself fell ill. So in the end PL and myself sallied forth in the Gnome mobile, setting off late morning to arrive at the (undisclosed) site in deepest, darkest Suffolk. The trip took getting on for three hours and with the car's air conditioning having conked out it was a rather hot and tedious drive there. Still we arrived with keen anticipation and set off for the orchid location itself.
There had been a couple of other people on the HOS trip who, in the absence of the organiser, had also made their way there under their own steam and one of them took us under his wing and lead us straight to the exact location. And there it was, sitting unobtrusively in a wildflower meadow on the private site. There were three stems, one very much on the way out, one in fine fettle and one a bit on the runty side. We set about taking photos as best we could though unfortunately the sun was positioned on the wrong side of the plants. We were under strict instructions by the site owner to avoid trampling at all costs and to stick to the designated path.
The Greek Ploughshare Tongue Orchid, above and below
Here showing the relatively small size at about 15cm tall in amongst the Buttercups
The lovely wildflower meadow in which the Tongue Orchid was located
So, what of the provenance of these plants? Firstly, there had in fact been some debate about their identity before it was pinned down (see here) by "Mr Orchid" SC and Kew Gardens as being Serapias bergonii. This species is commonly known as Greek (or Eastern) Ploughshare Tongue Orchid and is a native of the southern Mediterranean and Balkan countries as far west as Italy. It was formerly classified as a subspecies of various other Tongue Orchids before being declared a species in its own right. The Suffolk specimens were originally thought to have been planted there but the owner of the private land where they are located refutes this so they must have arrived under its own steam somehow. Anyway, it was good enough for me and I enjoyed this latest addition to my UK Orchid list.
Having got our fill of these Mediterranean exotics, we went on to our second location. This was very much a bonus visit that the trip organiser had set up, but in his absence we were happy to follow his itinerary. The target was the rare Ochroleuca variety of Early Marsh Orchid, a plae creamy variation on this already quite colour-varied species. Along with our new-found orchid companion, we made our way to the target site where we were greeted by the sight of a lovely boggy fen to tramp about in. Our pin-drop information turned out to be useless so we were left to find them ourselves. In the end it was easy enough, as their pale creamy colour stood out from the lush green vegetation quite strongly. There was also the clue (as always) of the trampling surrounding them.
Above and below Ochroleuca Early Marsh Orchid
One aspect of orchiding that I really like is the rummaging around in a bog (or wherever) by myself seeing what I can find so I soon wandered off. I managed to turn up a few more ochroleuca myself as well as some schoenophila varients of Marsh Orchid. The latter are what were formerly know as Pugsley's or Narrow-leaved before they decided to reclassify all the southern ones to this subspecies of Southern Marsh. Having got my eye in on Anglesey on my recent trip there, I was pleased to have picked out it's look-alike for myself.
Above and below - there were plenty of Southern Marsh Orchid
Above and below schoenophila Southern Marsh, or "pseudo" Pugsley's as I call them
Rummaging around in a bog - what could be better?
After a while PL and I decided that we'd had our fill and wandered contentedly back to the car. Then it was back on the road for the long slog back home. We both agreed that it had been a most excellent trip out. With a new orchid tick and a new subspecies tick as well, along with some top class bog rummaging, it had been a grand day out.
