Extremely high rainfall throughout the early winter period culminated in the River Welland exceptionally bursting its banks in two places between Deeping and Spalding in early January, flooding hundreds of acres of historical washland that have not been flooded in decades. Not good news for local farmers, but it has been superb for birding, attracting thousands of waterbirds to feed in fields that are normally pretty dry and birdless.
Among the huge numbers of commoner species have been some exciting scarcities. A female Long-tailed Duck appeared at Cowbit Wash within a couple of days of it flooding, and there has been a steady build-up of Ruddy Turnstones there as well (27 the most recent high, an exceptional total for an inland site). But the rarest bird so far has been the Velvet Scoter that I found rather fortuitously on the Welland on 27 January. As I poked my head over the floodbank near Cradge Farm, hands full of tripod, phone and hat, I flushed an interesting brown duck with some Mallard that promptly took off and revealed white secondaries. For a moment it looked as it was departing, but it came back down on the river a little bit further downstream. It's been quite skittish, but lingered into early February and gave local birders a welcome area tick. The last PBC record was at Bainton from 13-19 November 1983, so it had been a while.
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I always make a point of trying to keep an eye on flocks of European Golden Plovers when they begin to form on my local Lincolnshire fens (usually at the end of September, but sometimes later), for they are an often-underappreciated source of scarce finds. Coming across a good bird among them can be both challenging but also very rewarding.
After a Pacific Golden Plover in November 2021, the best I could muster in 2022 was a juvenile Grey Plover. Amazingly, despite the many thousands of golden plovers that gather in the Peterborough area each autumn, there had not been a local record of American Golden Plover since a juvenile that I found at Etton-Maxey Pits in October 2007. It seems beyond comprehension that there hasn't been one in Peterborough for 16 years and I would imagine in reality it's a near-annual visitor to the area rather than a once-in-a-decade vagrant.
I was hoping that I might be able to end the long wait for another AGP this autumn, but didn't expect it to happen at only my second attempt. After finding a flock of about 500 birds along Deeping High Bank on 28th, I returned on 29th and fairly quickly picked up a good candidate for an adult AGP on the 'wrong' side of the river, into the sun. Despite the awful light and a distance of 1km, plus the bird nestled in a roosting group of Euros, the extensively black-speckled underparts and rather swarthy-looking upperparts looked good, but I couldn't be sure without better views.
Fortunately, the flock soon took flight and relocated to the west side of the river, landing in a field close to where I was parked. The light was perfect on the birds and the AGP was soon located. Identification was now straightforward, for it was feeding unobscured alongside Euros in beautiful morning sunshine and stuck out like a sore thumb as being cold and greyish, retaining a strong, white supercilium, as well as having a dark cap and dark, blackish-grey upperparts. After some excellent views, I was joined by Paul Bolton shortly before the birds took flight again. We enjoyed some excellent views of the AGP as it whirled around in the sky above us among the flock, giving us great opportunities to appreciate just how dark it could look compared to the gleaming white of the EGPs. John Rimes and his son, plus a few other birders, then arrived, but the AGP became tricky. Our last views of it were with the Northern Lapwing flock back on the opposite side of the river, again at considerable distance and in difficult light. Curiously, it had separated from the EGPs at this point. After flying off around 11:20, it wasn't seen again. Like many birders of my generation, Aquatic Warbler has been a tricky bird to catch up with in Britain. Over the past couple of decades, there have been precious few truly gettable examples of this endangered warbler turning up here. There was one in Kent in August 2006 that a lot of people ticked, but I was away on a family holiday. Since then, there have been a few semi-twitchable birds that others have seen, but for whatever reason I'd been unable (or unwilling) to go – including for the Suffolk bird only a few weeks ago.
I have been moving house this week, so naturally I was a little galled when a very accessible Aquatic Warbler turned up at Beeding Brooks in West Sussex. By the third day its continued presence had eaten away at me too much and it felt like an opportunity I couldn't turn down, so I planned a rare twitch for what was a world lifer. In the end, things worked out well and the bird gave much better views than I had imagined, often to within 5 metres but always at least partially obscured. Photo opportunities were limited because of that, but that didn't matter as it was a beautiful bird that was very entertaining to simply watch with binoculars as it crept unobtrusively and Locustella-like through the long grass. Friday 18 August proved to be opening day of the best autumn passage of Black Terns in Britain for a good few years. In fact, after two blank autumns locally in 2020 and 2021, then just a single adult in September 2022, it was really nice to see a flock linger throughout the day, gradually increasing to a peak of 11 birds. Most were moulting adults, but among them were four juveniles – these were what I focused on with the camera.
As is often the case on 'Black Tern days', the light wasn't great, but it was interesting to see how an overcast sky could nonetheless throw up a variety of light conditions as both darker clouds and brighter patches passed by overhead. A selection of images below. I hadn't been to Cromer in late summer for a couple of years, so went over for the afternoon to meet Rich Bonser and see how many Caspian Gulls we could tally up. As I have written before, the 'Cromer Experience' has to be seen to be believed, even in this contemporary age where Caspian Gull is more expected visitor than desired scarcity in Britain. Despite this species' westward spread and increasing numbers, it is still slightly surreal seeing so many birds up closer on the beach here. True to form, one of the first gulls seen during my visit on 4 August was a juv Casp, and five more birds followed. Below is a series of photos taken during an enjoyable few hours. It's been a lean few years for Black Tern passage, with my patch at Baston averaging a couple of records per spring since I moved back to the area in 2020.
And 2023 was shaping up to be the leanest of all, until there was a sudden, strong push of birds through the usual overland flyways in the final few days of May. On 31st, no fewer than 10 congregated at Wader Pit, with numbers gradually swelling through the afternoon after the first couple of birds arrived at lunchtime. This is the highest count of the species I have had here for many years and it was a joy to watch them dancing together over the water-crowfoot, executing delightful aerobatics and picking insects from the water surface. Unlike the past few years, the first half of spring has been extremely wet. Unfortunately, at times, it has been really quite chilly as well and migration has been deathly quiet, even non-existent, for extended spells. This all changed on 18 April when a brisk north-easterly wind and clear skies – classic conditions for the date – suddenly saw Bar-tailed Godwit passage get going. Over the following few days I had at least 22 birds pass through at Baston Wader Pit. The 19th was the best day of April at Baston. A vigil from dawn saw 10 Bar-tailed Godwits move through in small groups, 14 Little Gulls (including a vocal flock of nine in the early morning sunshine), Arctic Tern and Spotted Redshank. The last bird hung around for a week in total, commuting between the pits and Baston Fen and having noticeably advanced in moult by the time it left. Despite this excitement, and a lovely Grey Plover the following morning, things died down again pretty quickly and, on the whole, it had to be said that April was a bit of a disappointment in the Deepings area. This was compounded by the record-breaking flocks of Kittiwakes and, later, Little Gulls in the Trent Valley – only around 40 km to the north-west. But that's just the way it goes, sometimes! Passerine migration didn't ever really get flowing, either. There were a few days where Northern Wheatears seemed to be moving in decent numbers, but it was a blank month for Whinchat and Ring Ouzel locally and the only Common Redstart I could find was a fortuitous encounter with a male in roadside brambles at Bourne South Fen, which happened to be calling as I drove past with the window down on my way to work! One of the highlights of the month was a group of three Black-necked Grebes which spent a few days moving around sites near Peterborough. Despite plenty of vocalising and display, they moved off again at the end of the month and no breeding attempt was forthcoming.
It was a pretty poor winter nationally for scarce geese, with low numbers of the likes of Tundra Bean and Russian White-fronted Geese around. However, the pulling power of the Deepings area's large resident flocks of Greylag Geese eventually told. A lovely group of seven Russian White-fronted Geese took up residence between West Deeping and Langtoft in late January, after initially appearing near Helpston. They were generally quite distant but occasionally close to a footpath, where regular passing dog-walkers helpfully habituated the Greylag flock somewhat and ensured that the birds offered some good views. Russian White-fronts are dependable to appear around here every winter in varying numbers, but Tundra Bean Goose is a much scarcer prize, usually appearing every 2-3 years. It was a pleasant surprise, then, to come aross a pair of adults at BLGP on 19 February; they hung around for a month, but were much harder to connect with than the nearby White-fronts due to their nocturnal habits, roosting in the pits during the day and heading out at dusk to feed on the fen with the Greylags. After many attempts, I finally managed some good views in roadside fields in the failing light on consecutive early March evenings. Barnacle Goose is scarce in the local area, yet the near-constant presence of a single bird over the past 20 years has ensured that it remains a reliable year tick. This old-aged bird was still kicking around at Baston and Langtoft Pits in the late winter period, but the notable addition was an obvious pair in the Langtoft West End/Tallington area. These birds have been around since early 2022, but are a bit more hit and miss. In addition to this, a neck-ringed bird (white 'A87') appeared in late February; this individual was ringed as an adult in North Yorkshire in July 2022 and spent that autumn on Teesside, before being seen in the Deepings in February 2023. It was part of a wider movement of naturalised birds across Britain. Presumably this sort of displacement will become more regular as this population increases and will mean more Barnacle Goose records locally. Of course, Pink-footed Goose is the most frequent 'wild' goose seen in the Deepings area, with a handful of birds appearing among the Greylags each winter and usually a number of large fly-over flocks at various points. However, given that many thousands frequent The Wash, only 25 km or so away, and plenty of sugar beet is grown locally, big feeding groups remain strangely rare around here and we generally only seem to pick up stragglers.
Buoyed by a successful trip in autumn 2021 and with the prospect of some excellent westerly weather on the cards, it was with great anticipation that Dan Owen and I arrived on Achill Island on 1 October. This was to be our third consecutive autumn stay on the island targeting American vagrants.
In fact, we couldn't really have timed our arrival better. After a deathly quiet September out west, the first in a series of exciting weather systems arrived overnight on 30th and, for the first time in the autumn, American landbirds seemed a shoe-in somewhere in Ireland. So it proved, with Kilbaha producing Baltimore Oriole and two Red-eyed Vireos, plus a Bobolink in Co Cork. Another REV on Inishmore on 2nd further fuelled our excitement, but hitting the Achill spots hard over the first few days of October produced only a Yellow-browed Warbler as the highlight among a scattering of European migrants.
On the morning of 4 October, a juvenile Little Stint joined the regular male Ring-necked Duck at Lough Nambrack. It wasn't the showiest of birds and was quite nervy, especially when the wagtails it was with got agitated, but I was able to get pretty close to it with some patience.
Dan and I then went round to Sruhill Lough to do the high-tide roost. Sruhill was very kind to me in 2011 (Spotted and four Semipalmated Sandpipers, Red-necked Phalarope and Sabine's Gull), but I hadn't seen anything significant there since! In fact, it's barely had any birds of note since then, which is all the more remarkable given that it gets a wide variety of waders and often good numbers of birds too, especially Dunlin and Ringed Plover. But it can be a tricky spot to watch, with birds coming and going all the time and, more often than not, a Peregrine or Merlin causing problems.
Fortunately, we got it right that day. Although there weren't many birds on arrival, groups of small waders started coming in as high tide approached, with a lone stint flying right past us, calling and landing on sand at the outflow. It was facing away but the dark-looking, greyish upperparts immediately had us turning to each other and saying: "Semipalmated Sandpiper!" A couple of record shots were fired off before the bird flew, returning a few minutes later before once again disappearing. The bird's wings were drooped; it looked exhausted and must have just arrived in off the Atlantic. Micheál sadly dipped at Sruhill, but it all ended well when he relocated the bird a few kilometres away on the flooded machair above Achill Rovers, where it remained for another couple of days.
I've seen some very tame waders in my time but this was right up there with the tamest. We'd lie down on the machair and the bird would come pattering past within inches. You could see it catching and consuming all manner of invertebrates, including some sizeable crane flies. It was quite extraordinary to watch and definitely an experience to savour, especially as it turned out to be the find of the trip!
Autumn 2022 will be remembered for the diversity of American vagrants seen not only in Britain and Ireland, but from Iceland and Norway south to France. Relentless westerlies in the first half of October served up a forecast that gave us grounds for optimism throughout our two-week stay on Achill, but that didn't translate into any landbird finds – which was disappointing, as we felt we had a great platform last year on which to build, knowing the best migrant traps as well as ever. It was particularly galling when Inishbofin – easily visible from Achill on a clear day – produced Ireland's first Alder Flycatcher on 8th, but then also a Blackpoll Warbler a week later. This wasn't the first time this had happened. In 2019, I was at Dooega on Achill, looking out at Inishbofin, when Anthony McGeehan was watching a Black-and-white Warbler there. In 2020, it was Tennessee Warbler and Upland Sandpiper. Having done three years on Achill now, I have started to wonder if the island is just a bit too big for 2-3 birders to be covering and, given its large area and extensive tracts of cover, how easy it would be for an American vagrant to melt away into spots we visit only once or twice (if at all) each year. This autumn we found migrants in gardens we'd never visited before, such as along Slievemore Road and in the eastern part of Keel. I often mused over how easy it would be for an arriving Yank to filter east and inland, away from the western tip of the island, where cover is lacking. Of course, three American passerines in four autumns (counting the 2019 Baltimore Oriole) is still a decent return, but it doesn't match the recent form of Inishbofin or Inishmore, despite their close proximity. I guess it sounds obvious, but increasingly I think about the importance of the 'island effect', where a tired migrant makes landfall and does not have the opportunity to continue along a headland and melt away into a huge, underwatched area, as could happen on the mainland. There is a lot to be said for having a limited area to cover and following a well-trodden, familiar route (just look at Steve Millar's track record on Inishbofin over the past few years). Of course, a lot of it is down to luck, but are you slashing your odds of finding something by working a smaller area more thoroughly? I think so. Even the West Beara hot-spots, which are 'mainland' (Dursey aside), are spread over a far smaller area than that we currently work on Achill (the Beara sites probably being equivalent to the distance between Keem and Dooagh, at the west end of Achill). The problem would be partly solved if you could put a dozen birders on Achill and cover it systematically, but realistically that isn't going to happen as there just aren't enough people interested in giving it a bash.
With all of this in mind, we day-tripped Clare Island on 10th. I was very impressed with how easy it is to get to and from the island, which is served by three ferries daily. For the day-tripping birder, it's possible to get out at 8am and return at 5pm – ample time to work some of the best gardens in the east of the island. We didn't see anything particularly notable on our visit, but a nice smattering of European migrants included a Willow Warbler, and we found some stunning spots that must have hosted many rarities over the years.
Still, at least Achill didn't miss out on the Firecrest influx! Large numbers of these beautiful birds were found in western Ireland in October. We spent a day dipping the Alder Flycatcher on Inishbofin, but did see two Firecrests (plus Barred Warbler and Sand Martin). This was followed by a brief Firecrest for me at Dooagh on 13th – the first record for Achill – and then another at Keel the following day which, happily, lingered long enough for both Dan and Micheál to see it. Again, this latter bird was in a garden I'd never checked prior to this autumn.
There appeared to be a mini-arrival of birds on 13th. Along with the Firecrests, at least two Yellow-browed Warblers, a Willow Warbler and several Chiffchaffs also appeared at the west end. It was nice to finally see a few migrants at Corrymore, after a blank couple of years there!
One slightly frustrating moment came on 8th when pishing attracted the attention of a chunky passerine lumbering through some dense willows at Dooagh. The garden which the mystery skulker was frequenting has a shed called 'REV'S Place'(!) and I was convinced it was going to be a vireo on size and movements. Given the blasting westerly and date, you can imagine my disappointment when this popped out!
We did have good reason to sneak away from Achill to the Mullet again this year. Dave Suddaby's fantastic Swainson's Thrush showed why event the scantest cover is not to be ignored when the Atlantic breakers are just metres away. We were getting covered in sea spray as well as the squalls while watching the thrush working its way up a vegetated ditch on 7th. Also nearby was a blue-morph Snow Goose with the Greylags, and a Snow Bunting flew across the road. A very nice twitch with Micheál.
And so, on 16th, our latest Achill adventure drew to a close. I'm sure I'll be back in 2023, but there is plenty to ponder on where else might be worth a try in the coming autumns.
Wryneck is a bird I have been walking a lot of miles for over the past few weeks, albeit without success. It was therefore a welcome surprise to hear of one found by John Atkins at Ferry Meadows CP, on the west side of Peterborough, this afternoon. Fortunately, Mike Weedon was with John when he picked it up and was able to confirm the ID and get the news out pretty much instantly. The bird wasn't too shy, although was feeding on the copious number of anthills in an area of long grass and small, scrubby hawthorn and rose bushes, only occasionally popping up into view. In fact, as Wrynecks go, it was fairly confident, and would often happily perch only a few metres away (albeit rarely in full view!). However, this master of disguise's intricate plumage made it a challenge to pick up as it sat, often motionless, among the foliage. It's funny how fortuitous rare bird finds can be. Had it not been for a party of co-operative Whinchats in the adjacent Long Meadow, which were being photographed by John and Mike when the Wryneck appeared, then it may never have been found at all. The Whinchats were very nice, as they always are, with one or two occasionally coming close enough for decent shots.
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September 2023
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