Suffolk Reprise: Walberswick Zitting Cisticola

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 hurred 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 photos 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.

"Protrait 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.