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.

The end of August and opening days of September produced one of the richest spells for passage waders on my patch for the past few years at least, with a couple of Curlew Sandpipers lingering for nine days, accompanied at times by Knot, Ruff, Wood, Common and Green Sandpipers, Dunlin, Ringed and Little Ringed Plovers, and Spotted Redshank. The best part about it all was that most birds showed pretty well, especially the calidrids, giving some brilliant photo opportunities at times.

Only the second Black Tern of the year dropped in for the day on 5 September. This species is more or less nailed on as a spring visitor, but for whatever reason autumn records are significantly scarcer – this is the first autumn bird I've had since moving back to Lincolnshire in 2020.

A juvenile Curlew Sandpiper dropped in at BLGP this evening, giving me one of the most enjoyable hours that I've ever had on patch. The bird was initially doing the rounds with a skittish juvenile Wood Sandpiper, but ditched its company after a brief visit to Baston Fen.

As I edged closer, the light was getting better and better as the sun sank away towards the west. Despite being just a few metres away, the bird showed little concern for my presence as it went about its ways.

Then, shortly before 7pm, a small flock of waders flew in to join the Curlew Sand – two Dunlin and three Ringed Plovers. They fed for a few minutes together before all barrelling off high to the south-west. What an experience and a reminder (if needed) of why so little in the world of birds comes close to waders.

When the Gull-billed Tern disappeared off to the south on Tuesday evening, my assumption was that was it. Over the past few years, Wader Pit has a fine track record of producing good birds, but a shocking track record of holding on to them. So it was a nice surprise to check on Wednesday lunchtime and find the bird back roosting on the eastern shore. It went on to linger throughout Thursday as well, but with no sign on Friday and Saturday, evidently decided that three days at Baston was plenty.

I have been pretty relentless in checking my patch this summer. Last June's fleeting Caspian Tern was a reminder that, if the time and opportunity is there, it's worth a look. I've been trying to visit at least once and usually twice a day. So far, in the dry and often sunny conditions, there hasn't been a great deal to see bar the expected returning Black-tailed Godwits and the occasional other wader.

That all changed on 19 July, during record-breaking temperatures. I walked out the air-conditioned office into what felt like a fan oven after a day where the news was filled with fires, melting roads and exhausted emergency services. If I was being melodramatic, it had a 'beginning of the end' feel to it – a worrying glimpse into the future at the very least.

Despite the suffocating heat and 'hairdryer' wind that had whipped up, I decided to have a quick stop at Wader Pit on the way home. First scan: a gaggle of panting Greylag Geese, a few Lapwings, Common Terns and Black-headed Gulls, but nothing much else. No waders. Hmm. A few minutes later, a second scan: Common Tern, Common Tern, Co- ... eh? What the? That's a big tern!

The bird in question was facing away from me and immediate impression was of a Sandwich Tern-sized bird. There hasn't been a twitchable Sandwich locally so far this year so I was gearing myself up for a handy year tick. But something clearly wasn't right: it was a Sandwich Tern on stilts. There could only be one option for a tern with such lengthy pins – Gull-billed – something that was confirmed a couple of seconds later when the bird turned its head slightly and revealed a short and deep black bill. Shit!

Panic. No camera with me – it was at home – and the haze and wind was absolutely shocking. Tripod blowing all over the place, bird shimmering distantly and often little more than a whitish mirage. I rang my mum, who I knew was nearby. She kindly agreed to fetch my camera and bring it over while I stayed on the bird. But, of course, just as she arrived, the bird flew off and I lost it.

Fortunately, it returned to Wader Pit a quarter of an hour later, by which time Jake Williams and Will Bowell had arrived. At least others had now seen it. This pattern of rests on the eastern shore interspersed with feeding forays continued for the following hour or so, with the bird disappearing to feed over fields and trees for up to 15 minutes. On a few occasions it could be heard vocalising, giving a quite nasal, almost wader-like call.

The haze gradually lessened but generally remained a challenge, even if the light was improving. Let's not forget that the temperature gauge was still hovering at around the 37°C mark. By 7pm around a dozen had seen it, before it was watched to fly off south – presumed to be on another feeding flight – but it didn't return, with no further sign by dusk.

Wader Pit does it again. What a fantastic bird to have on the patch. It was a little bit galling not to have managed closer views that weren't being buffeted by a relentless breeze and smothering haze, but I can't complain at the buzz it gave me and the record shots above will certainly suffice. That'll be the highlight of my #LocalBigYear, I'm sure – to sound clichéd, this sort of experience is what local birding is all about and why it can't be beaten! 

The patch highlight of June so far was a 2cy Arctic Tern that spent a few days cruising around Baston Wader Pit mid-month, giving a great opportunity to study the so-called 'portlandica' plumage. In my ignorance I hadn't appreciated the origins of this rather broad-ranging, somewhat colloquial term and was fascinated to read that it stems from an initial misidentification by Robert Ridgway, who wrongly thought these immature birds to be a different species, which he called Sterna portlandica.

I seem to recall seeing one or two of these immatures in Arctic Tern colonies on previous occasions, and indeed they're not really all that scarce in some areas (see e.g. here), but I had never seen one locally. So, it was nice of this bird to appear at an otherwise quiet time of year, linger for a while and offer some fine views at times. A lovely bird to watch and one that was much more obvious at certain times than others. The classic buoyant 'looseness' of the flight style (compared to the slightly 'stiffer' action of Common), enhanced by the outer tail streamers, was particularly noticeable at times and some of the images below capture this quite nicely.

The photos were taken on two dates, with the first batch taken on the bright, sunny morning of 16th and the others a couple of days later, when it was overcast.