Our tails were up again and we were full of optimism that, with a bit of extra effort, we would achieve our "Big Year" goal. The double success of last weekend had renewed that confidence after we'd lost our way quite a bit, after having an enforced two week lay off. Eight more birds were needed and we still had six weeks including the Christmas holiday to get them.
Another rare Wheatear had been found on the Lleyn Peninsula in North Wales. The Isabelline Wheatear there had been present for at least two weeks and had been showing well for most of that time. Initially I wasn't moved to go for it because it's a long drive (mainly off motorway so a slow drag too) and because we'd seen two of them before, in Cornwall and Norfolk. However, buoyed by the successful twitch to see the Pied Wheatear on Tyneside last Saturday, we decided that we should make the 220 mile drive each way. We'd only regret it later on if we didn't.
Once we'd passed Shrewsbury and turned left, the drive was actually a delight and it was nice to be off more familiar routes and motorways. The journey took us over the moors and lower hills along the southern edge of the Snowdonia National Park. Mist in the lower valleys and bright sunshine higher up was reflected in temperatures as low as freezing. We passed through towns such as Bala and Transfynydd and past the lakes of the same names. Places we had visited on previous holidays appeared on signposts so we relived some old memories of those times, we used to visit Snowdonia a lot but then discovered Scotland (sorry Wales, we still love you too). Porthmadog announced our arrival to The Lleyn, a beautiful part of the country but a region we've only visited sporadically over the years. Our destination, Uwchmynydd, lies right at the western end of The Lleyn Peninsula and overlooks the well known (amongst birders anyway) island of Bardsey which is famous for attracting many rare birds and also for its large seabird populations during the summer especially Manx Shearwaters. A little over four hours after leaving home we pulled onto a barely noticeable grassy car parking area. It was a good job we'd brought some sustenance with us because this far west at this time of year there was nothing open that offered anything to eat or drink at half-ten in the morning.
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| Bardsey Island from Uwchmynydd |
From the carpark it was a ten minute stroll downhill to the area on the headland where the Isabelline Wheatear would be. The bird had been reported just ten minutes before we arrived so we knew it was still there and as the wide expanse of a grassy clifftop came into view we could see five other birders stood below us. Even from a hundred metres away we could the Wheatear scampering around on the grass just a few metres away from its admirers. A few minutes later we were also stood there and I secured record shots of our 293rd bird of 2022.
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| Isabelline Wheatear (Oenanthe isabellina) |
The Isabelline Wheatear, a beautiful mix of cream, beige and ochre colours with a black eyestripe, eye and bill was hunting the short turf for worms and invertebrates. Wheatears hunt for food by standing tall and still until they spot something then they dash quickly towards the prey and secure it. Plovers also hunt in that fashion and at times this Isabelline Wheatear reminded me a little bit of a Dotterel which also favours similar habitat at certain times of the year. Only a little bit though.
We said hello to a chap we've met on several twitches this year and Mrs Caley entertained him while I sidled a bit closer to the Wheatear so that I could get some even closer shots. I was laid on my considerable belly so not quite flat to the ground but my stealth was working well and the bird appeared unfazed by my presence, well it was until a togger with a big lens strode past my left shoulder even closer to the bird which obviously then flew off further up the grassy slope. Some folk just don't seem to grasp the idea of good fieldcraft and boundaries.
I stood up and walked around the cliff so as to approach the Wheatear from below which would be less likely to surprise or unsettle it. While stalking towards the Wheatear I noticed a couple of Choughs feeding quietly on the short turf. The only views we'd had of Chough, on Anglesey and in Cornwall, this year were distant and I hadn't gained a decent photo of any of them. So I turned my attention to the two gorgeous and charismatic members of the Crow family that were now stood barely fifty feet away from me. Just as I started reeling off some shots, the closest of the pair suddenly looked up and "Cheowed," that wonderful cry that onomatopoetically gave the species its name.
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| Chough (Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax) |
An instant later both birds were flying, and almost directly at me. I took my chance and captured as many shots as I could before the birds had passed me. I was less pleased when I looked up from my viewfinder and saw the same chap walking straight through the area where the Choughs had been. Some folk just don't give a damn about anybody else. Thank goodness that he appeared to be leaving otherwise, to keep the peace and tranquility of the clifftops, I'd have had to shackle myself to my wife for the rest of the morning. On the other hand, my thanks go out to the ignoramus for giving me the opportunity to get some of my best Chough flight images ever!
The Isabelline Wheatear had also been disturbed by the careless and carefree birder and momentarily we had lost it but it was sure to still be around somewhere. So I spent a little bit of time watching a couple of Rock Pipits that were also feeding on the grassy clifftop. Rock Pipits are always found in places like Uwchmynydd but tend to get overlooked as dour and dull little birds, the quintessential "Little Brown Jobs" that birders talk about. Look closely though and you see a beautiful blend of grey, brown and beige sported by a bird that is both delicate but robust looking, "Rockits" are built for the extreme lifestyle that a home by the sea provides. On this beautiful morning though no major resilience was required by the pair of Pipits as they searched for food amongst the grass.
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| Rock Pipit (Anthus petrosus) |
Other birds were available, Ravens noisily croaked as they soared overhead and a Kestrel hunted the higher slopes. A pair of Stonechats flitted about a heather clad hillside and a Song Thrush crossed the clifftop. Unfortunately though, I missed the best of the rest because I was so intent on finding the Isabelline Wheatear again. I did relocate it and it was walking back towards its original position. I decided to employ great fieldcraft again in order to get close enough for more photography. This time there was no careless togger around to disturb the bird so I crept up behind a small rocky outcrop and peered over at the Wheatear waiting for it to get close enough. While my concentration was centred entirely upon the Wheatear I missed the ringtail Hen Harrier that flew across the cliffs almost over my head. Mrs Caley had watched the Harrier but I couldn't see or hear her gesticulations from where I was. When she told me what I'd missed and that if she had a camera, that she could have the captured the Hen Harrier and myself in the same shot I was more than a little miffed!
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| Raven (Corvus corax) |
I still had the Isabelline Wheatear to keep me happy and busy though, and now it was performing beautifully for me just a few metres away. The sun was shining and everything was peachy. Mrs Caley remained sat by the cliff edge rocks and watched on as the Wheatear did its thing, hunting invertebrates by stealth and making dash and grab snatches. For the most part I was alone photographing the bird, three of the birders had already left and our friend from Somerset had wandered off somewhere else. If the Issy had turned up in a more accessible spot there would have been dozens of birders and toggers watching the bird. Here on the edge of Wales there was blissfully just us.
As is my usual want I tried to anticipate the moments when the bird would fly so that I'd get some images of it in flight. That proved to be very difficult although I did manage a few. I (reluctantly) needed the "couldn't give a damn" togger around to spark the Wheatear into action.
It would have been impossible though not to enjoy a bird that showed so wonderfully well and I still rattled of hundreds of frames. The Isabelline Wheatear continued to wow us for another half hour or so before it suddenly decided to fly onto the bracken slope and out of view. It had had enough of us (me) so it was time for us to head off on our long journey home. I'd be busy editing photographs for a few days after.
Year List addition;
293) Isabelline Wheatear
Richard's Pipit is a bird that we've never found it easy to see. Although a relatively frequent migrant, most Richard's Pipits are encountered by the coast and many are recorded as just flyover birds identified by their distinctive call. Occasionally one will settle down to a regular haunt where it can be viewed or better still the species sometimes winters in the UK. We'd only seen two Richard's Pipits before, amazingly one in our home county of Oxfordshire and the other only a few miles away from where we were now looking for another in Gloucestershire.
It was a long shot but one we needed to take if we were to realise our dream of reaching 300 species in 2022. Rare Pipits of almost every description don't like The Old Caley's much and we've dipped a lot in the past. However, the Richard's Pipit that had been found close to the city of Gloucester in the week prior had been reported on almost every day since its discovery so we were hopeful that we too would be able to find it. The bird was frequenting a restored and re-landscaped rubbish tip sandwiched between the city and the River Severn. Our previous record of Richard's Pipit in Gloucestershire, at Arlingham, had also been by the banks of the Severn and only a few miles downstream from our target bird. I'd done my homework and received the necessary information from some very helpful Gloucestershire birders. The walk from the village of Hempstead to the Severn footpath took us across fields and then along a very muddy footpath before we reached the river. Once at the Severn we then turned and walked upstream alongside the old tip, a raised mound of sheep grazed grassland. All in all the area that the Pipit favoured was around a mile from the car but it seemed much further after the long trip to Wales that we'd made the day before.
There were no other birders in sight so it appeared that we'd have to find the bird ourselves, just as we had to a few years before at Arlingham. I scanned the small hill frequently but apart from a few Skylarks and a single Meadow Pipit saw little. A surprisingly late Swallow flew overhead but there was no sign of any large Pipit. We rounded a bend and finally saw some like-minded souls. Encouragingly the first chap we spoke to told us that the Richard's Pipit had been seen by another birder further along the path and that it had flown back towards where we now stood. I could see another couple of birders walking around on the top of the tip itself. Apparently entry onto the old tip is forbidden but the bordering fence had fallen in several places so there wasn't actually anything to stop people from entering.
A small flock of Pipits flew directly toward us and then past but all were Meadow Pipits. Another bird was following them though, it was larger with a long tail and, even though I had little experience of Richard's Pipit, I called 'That's it!', I just knew instinctively that this lone bird was the one we wanted. The larger Pipit had landed on the ridge line, probably only fifty metres away and we could now hear it calling. The call of a Richard's Pipit is distinctive, a hoarse drawn out "Shreep," slightly reminiscent of a House Sparrow but higher pitched and longer. We located the bird in the long grass, the Richard's Pipit being long-legged enough to be able to show its head above the vegetation.
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| Richard's Pipit (Anthus richardi) |
I set the scope up for Mrs Caley and then, ignoring the warning of a birder who had just joined us, walked into the "forbidden zone". I didn't walk directly towards the bird but instead circumnavigated my way up the slope so that the bird wasn't disturbed. The two chaps on top of the mound however, had seen that we were looking at something and naturally wanted to see it themselves. Unaware of where the Pipit was they walked sufficiently close to it for it to take flight. It flew over my head but luckily landed again just a short way away. Now we all knew where it was so could approach it without any of us flushing it further.
Now that I was above the bird and looking down the slope at it I was able to get better views and a few reasonable record shots. Like most Pipits though the Richard's Pipit was wary and if anybody got too close it would relocate further away so we all had to be content with distant views. I collected Mrs Caley from the bottom of the slope and set the scope up again so that we could both enjoy a better appraisal of the bird. Richard's Pipits are typically decked out in Pipit plumage of browns and beige with streaks to the back and breast. The species has long legs and a long tail which in shape means it more resembles a Wagtail. It's flight is Thrush like, rapid and undulating.
After watching it for ten minutes or so the Pipit suddenly flew up and over our heads once more but this time instead of landing nearby it kept going and flew strongly away and over the river. As it flew I managed to get some slightly better flight shots, well you can just about see what it actually is, which show the long tail and white outer tail feathers.
The weekend, just as the one before, had proven profitable with two more birds added to the year list. We were closing in on our "Big Year" target.
Year List addition;
294) Richard's Pipit
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