Catch-up #4, Woodland Birding in the Rest of May (mostly) 2021

Sunday 16th May

We were in a wood not far from Worcester to attempt to see a bird that we'd not seen in the UK for almost ten years. The small carpark at Monkwood nature reserve was, not surprisingly, rammed with other birders that shared the same hopes so we had to park on the narrow road outside. As soon as we exited our car we could hear the lovely rising and falling melodic song of the Golden Oriole that we hoped to find. We used to make an annual pilgrimage to Lakenheath Fen to see and hear these beautiful birds but recently, in line with a national decline, they have disappeared from there so any Golden Oriole sightings these days are now subjected to fairly keen twitches. We spent three hours searching in the mature woodland on a grey and drizzle filled morning but I at least was successful when I obtained a five-second view of the bird, a first summer male, high in a tree. The Oriole was pursued by a pair of Mistle Thrushes that had taken exception to it being there. I photographed a tangle of leaves and twigs. There was also a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker nearby which called regularly but remained unseen. We did manage to see a Chiffchaff pair taking food for their youngsters in a nest concealed in grass beneath a small sapling.

Chiffchaff

Tuesday 18th May

An after work stroll to our local go-to place to see recently arrived Spotted Flycatchers. It took us longer than we expected to see a Spot Fly but eventually one showed in a tree above our heads.

Spotted Flycatcher

When we got back home we were surprised to see the return of a leucistic House Sparrow that we'd first seen in our garden a year ago and had thought that he'd gone since we hadn't seen him for some six months.

(partially) leucistic House Sparrow

Saturday 22nd May

We went twitching, to the RSPB reserve at St. Aidans in Yorkshire. We were hoping to see a Franklin's Gull, a rare visitor from North America, which had been gracing the reserve every day for a couple of weeks. Unfortunately the Gull had obviously read the Old Caley's success rate in twitching birds in Yorkshire booklet because on the day we visited, it was nowhere to be seen. Predictably, the Gull reappeared the following day when we were back home. 

Luckily though St. Aidans has a lot more to offer so there were some good birds to be seen while waiting in vain for the no-show Gull. Next to the visitor centre and carpark is a huge old and disused mining machine which was formerly used in the extraction of coal from the former mine that the reserve is built on. The contraption is now home to several species of breeding birds, most notably a pair of Little Owls, but also Kestrels and Stock Doves. After taking direction from one of the volunteers on site, we watched one of the Little Owls but after ten-minutes got tired of waiting for it to move. When we looked again on our way out the Owl was still stood in exactly the same place, in almost exactly the same pose, and I wondered if it might actually be a statue although I did see it blink once so I guess it must have been real.

spot the difference Little Owl (photos taken 6 hours apart)

The main stars amongst the resident birds of St. Aidans are a small breeding colony of Black-necked Grebes. By mid-May the eggs had hatched and the young humbug-faced Grebelets were on the water and being fed by their parents. It was difficult getting clear views of the birds owing to bank side vegetation and I never managed an unobstructed, and desired, image of a youngster riding piggy-back on an adult. The red eyes of the adult Grebes wouldn't look out of place in a horror movie.

Black-necked Grebes

There were hundreds of Swifts tearing around above the various lakes and reedbeds and I imagined that my Dad was flying around with them. I took a few photos in between bouts of searching for the Franklins Gull. I never could resist a Swift.

Swift

Sunday 23rd May

A bird that we love to see but so far this year had failed to do so is the Wood Warbler. The various lockdowns had prevented us from travelling into Wales to our traditional site to look for them and we had failed to find any in the Wyre Forest on a previous visit at the start of the month. Since then I had done a bit of homework and had learned exactly where to go for them so on another dull and dreary morning, all of our visits to the Wyre Forest seem to be made in less than ideal weather, we parked up as usual in a quiet carpark and made our way along the disused railway line that is now the main trail through the woods. This time instead of walking into the designated nature reserve that hangs onto the steep hillside above a brook, we continued on for another half a mile. Soon we heard the unmistakeable trill of a male Wood Warbler. Because the land falls sharply away from the old track on the northern side, the Wood Warbler, one of three that we saw but by far the showiest, could be watched at eye-level and thus neck breaking viewing upwards was thankfully unnecessary.

Wood Warbler

When a male Wood Warbler sings, the tiny bird (not much bigger than Wren) shudders with the effort. They can be surprisingly hard to follow through the trees owing to their bright yellow and greenish plumage blending in well with the foliage and they rarely stay still for long, a quick trill or two and then they are flitting to another perch or pursuing a tasty fly to eat.

A search of the nature reserve that we'd found Pied Flycatchers in three weeks before, turned up almost nothing except for a couple of elusive Spotted Flycatchers very high up in the very high trees and a pair of Chiffchaffs busy attending to their brood.

Chiffchaff

Storker! Frampton Marsh, 20th August

After the rush of four life ticks in the space of eight days towards the end of July, we had kept our birding local with numerous trips onto Otmoor, where we had been entertained by an influx of long-legged waterbirds that like cows as well as the established star birds of the area. Those walks will be detailed in another blogpost.

We had decided that we would only get in the car and drive out of Oxfordshire for life ticks or those that we had seen previously but only poorly. That new policy lasted for three weeks before I got itchy feet and wanted to see something different to the new Continental All-stars on Otmoor. My mate Jim had been in touch asking whether I was tempted by a Black Stork, a species that he'd never seen in the UK, at Frampton Marsh. I told him I wasn't really because I'd already seen three before. In fact, Mrs Caley and myself had "self-found" one when it flew over our heads at Dungeness when birding there a few years ago. We had last seen one while on a holiday to Scotland in June 2019.

Black Stork, Findhorn Bay, 9th June 2019

After getting the weekly shop out of the way early on Friday morning and attending to a bit of catch-up business paperwork, I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and suggested to Mrs Caley that rather than waste the day (off) we should go somewhere. Shortly afterwards we had set sail to Frampton Marsh. I know, I'm weak!

There is always something interesting at Frampton Marsh and it's only a couple of hours drive away so it is probably our most visited place outside of our immediate area (and Scotland). I checked the bird news while taking a quick rest stop on the outskirts of Peterborough and noticed that the Black Stork was actually in a field at another RSPB reserve the other side of the river at Frieston Shore. The Stork had been frequenting both sites over the past week or so and had been fairly mobile but by and large seemed to mainly favour Frampton Marsh. Mrs Caley kept her eye on updates and the next report came in that the bird had indeed flown back to Frampton Marsh. I checked with Jim again, he had just arrived at Frampton but couldn't see the Stork where it was supposed to be in the barn field. We found some lunch, remember we had seen Black Storks before so didn't feel the need to rush anywhere, and ate it at leisure while parked up in a lay-by. Jim called again and told us that the Stork had flown back towards Freiston Shore so we altered the SatNav again and headed into the Boston bottleneck and towards that reserve. Jim also added he hadn't seen the bird himself but had gained the info from another birder. Luckily before travelling the extra six miles or so to Frieston after getting through the traffic, I stopped and checked the bird news once more and more importantly Twitter. There I saw a tweet from an observer on the ground who had watched the Stork depart Frampton Marsh but it had seen it fly in a South-eastwards direction which was totally the opposite to where Freiston lay from Frampton!

Thinking that the Black Stork could have gone for good but had more likely just found a feeding area further around The Wash so would probably return at some point we rejoined the traffic and slowly made our way to Frampton Marsh. Coming from the North the access road takes you past the farm where the Little Owls are supposed to be but as usual we didn't see them. Just as on our first visit this year to the reserve in May, we did however find a Turtle Dove perched on an overhead wire although this time it flew before I could get the camera organised. We trundled into the pretty full carpark but then decided to drive up to the seaward parking area instead (as I would normally do anyway). I could see Jim stood on the seawall, presumably looking at the Pacific Golden Plover that we'd seen four weeks before and which was still present (in fact two had been seen together on occasions recently). On our way to join him on the elevated bank, I looked over the scrapes either side of the track to see what was around. Wading birds abound at Frampton Marsh and the scrapes at the seaward end provide the photographer, and camera carrying birders like myself (an important distinction), unrivalled opportunities to capture some decent shots. The first bird that I clocked eyes on was a fabulous juvenile Little Ringed Plover, for my money there are few better looking wading birds, and I took some photos as it fed delicately along the muddy edge of the scrape.

juvenile Little Ringed Plover

There were Ruff and Black-tailed Godwit but they were further off and the reeds had grown so high along the track that viewing the scrape could only be made from a couple of places so I studied the few birds that were closer. A juvenile Lapwing walked studiously in the tracks of the Little Ringed Plover. The muddy edges are well worn bird pathways and I find it amazing that all of the birds seem to be able to readily find food. It's like a supermarket for birds where the shelves are refilled continuously. As I took a few frames of the Lapwing it dipped its head to the ground and pulled up an impressive looking worm, as long as the Lapwing was tall. The resulting tug-of-war was over quickly, the Lapwing won easily pulling the worm clear from its lair in the soft soil. It then studied the stricken worm for a few seconds, manoeuvred it into a suitable position and then sucked it up à la spaghetti style.

Lapwing

We joined Jim at the top of the bank, he still hadn't seen the Black Stork, having missed it when it flew off because he was walking through a "tunnel" of trees and thus was blind sided. At least we now knew for sure that it flown off to the South so, assuming it would return at some point, we knew which way it would come from. After a quick chat and some reassurance from me that he'd be all right now since we were there and Black Storks are one of the few rare black and white birds that actually like us and don't avoid us like so many others do, I'm still mightily peeved by that bloody big black and white seabird thingy at Bempton doing a bunk every time I get near it. It was about half past one o'clock and Jim was on borrowed time, he had an engagement for later in the day so had to leave by three so the Stork needed to fly back soon. In the meantime we watched the Pacific Golden Plover, just the one, the other was absent. As it was a month before the rare wader from further east (or west if you go the other way around the planet) was a bit too far out for my lens but showed well enough to appreciate the extensive moult that it had undertaken since our last visit. The solid black underparts that the Plover had sported before are being replaced by lighter winter feathers and the belly was now a mottled assortment of dull blacks, greys and whites. The upper parts were becoming more blotchy beige rather than a rich spangled golden-brown. The bold supercilium was just as marked as before but was turning beige as opposed to the striking white stripe of a month ago.

Pacific Golden Plover

The cattle that roam freely around the salt marsh and embankment, including the cursed number 8 bullock, were thankfully better behaved on this visit and caused us no bother this time. They had been joined by an attendant flock of Yellow Wagtails, possibly as many as fifty of them darted around the hooves of the herd. The Wagtails were represented by the full gamut of colourful males, and more subdued females and juveniles.

Yellow Wagtail

For the next hour we remained up on the seawall where we had the best panoramic view of the reserve, and most importantly a 360 vista of the skies. Having seen three Black Storks before, Mrs Caley and I were still very relaxed but hoped that the big bird would return to "make the day". Our friend Jim though was edgier and unfortunately did have to leave soon. I call Jim, "Lucky Jim", because he generally walks into the rare birds, although like the rest of us not always, but his strike rate does seem to be higher than ours. This time however, that success rate appeared to be under threat. At a quarter to three he had to go, so I jokingly invoked the five-minute rule, whereby the chance of a rare bird showing, increases massively whenever somebody leaves the twitch, exponentially if it's us that departs. We watched Jim clamber down the slope and start his trek back to his car parked at the visitor centre. It took eight minutes for the Black Stork to appear flying in at a relatively low height for a Stork from the South-east, the same direction it had disappeared to earlier. I hollered, "Stork" as loudly as I could and pointed skywards so that anybody else around could see it, a couple slightly further along the seawall reacted to it but all of those still watching the Pacific Golden Plover remained unmoved. I phoned Jim but was met by his phone voicemail so could only leave a hurried message and hoped that he'd pick it up before he left, I could still see his car parked up so knew he was still on site. Mrs Caley and I were already enjoying the Black Stork though as we watched it slowly approach.

Black Stork

Memories of watching last years Lammergeier surfaced in my head as the similar sized, but entirely different looking bird sailed ever closer to our watchpoint. I messaged Jim again, for some reason I wanted him to see it more than I did, but again there was no reply, so I concentrated on staying focussed on the Stork and taking a few more pics. I remembered that, despite the bird that we'd found for ourselves at Dungeness flying very low overhead, my flight shots of the species were pretty awful, there was no time that day to adjust camera settings, so here was an opportunity to make up for that. Unfortunately the Stork must have known that too because instead of keeping a level flightpath as it came towards us it decided to start circling and gain height so that when it did finally pass directly overhead it was a half mile high in the sky! Oh well, record shots are important.

We watched the Black Stork fly high directly over the visitor centre and disappear towards Boston. It presumably headed back to Freiston Shore where it had also been spending some of its time. Jim called to say that luckily he had emerged from the visitor centre ready to head home and noticed a couple of folk staring skywards so he joined them and found the Stork as it drifted away so he had his life tick after all. We walked along the seawall hoping to finally find a Short-eared Owl for our own year list. Shorties are usually one of the first Owl species we see every year but somehow we had failed to see any this year. We had seen the other four breeding species, including scarce Long-eared Owls, so needed the Short-eared version to complete a nap-hand. There is a line of old fence posts that stretch out onto the salt marsh and I thought that they would be a good place to look for the Owls which had been seen in the general area. Conveniently there was a bench at the spot where we'd decided to stop so we settled down and I set up the scope for a scan of the marsh. I looked through the eyepiece and immediately saw a Short-eared Owl flying away from us about a hundred metres away. It was as easy as that and we had our 225th species for the year. Unfortunately the Owl, or the juvenile that I spotted stood atop one of the fence posts deigned to come in any closer but it was good to finally complete the set (Snowy Owl excepted of course).

Short-eared Owl

We saw Jim strolling towards us via the path that runs through the grassland, he had decided to stay on after all and try for a better look at the Stork which had apparently flown back to Frampton while our backs were turned and settled in amongst the cattle. I scanned the fields several times but couldn't find the three feet high bird anywhere. How a bird the size of a small child could disappear in an open and flat landscape struck me as amazing. We continued on our way back to the car, making a brief stop at the scrape next to the parking area to enjoy the sight of a dozing Little Stint which was slumbering in unison with a couple of Dunlin.

Little Stint, left & Dunlin, right

A shout went up from a chap a little further along the path, "Stork, Stork!" The Black Stork was in the air again, it had taken off from slap bang in the middle of the grassy fields so had been there, hidden in one of the many ditches no doubt and was now circling and gaining height as they are so good at doing. We watched it get higher and higher, all the time directly in line with the sun which made viewing difficult. When it soared over our position headed northwards again, it was even higher up than it was before. There was to be no close views of this particular Stork.

There was a huge chunk of the reserve and many birds that we didn't see on this visit but we drove home happy enough. Until we found the A16 closed to traffic that was, which entailed a rather grumpy, longer than usual trawl around the houses, and a route home taking in Stamford and Kettering. Despite that irritation, it won't be long before we visit Frampton Marsh again!

Another Dose of Double Lifer Delight! Purrfect! 24th July 2021

After picking up two brilliant life ticks in the shape of the famous Black-browed Albatross and the fabulous Elegant Tern the weekend before, we were back on the lifer trail again the following Saturday. This time we had our sights on seeing two rare wading bird species that are usually encountered in North America and the very north of Siberia.

The first of the target birds, a Pacific Golden Plover, had been discovered at one of our favourite places, the RSPB reserve of Frampton Marsh, during the previous week. If we did get to see it then it would complete the Golden Plover hat trick for us since we already had our "usual" European Golden Plover and the scarce American Golden Plover on our lists. Pacific Golden Plover is the rarest of the three to visit the UK and according to the Collins Bird Guide ranks as a two-star rarity against the American Golden Plover's one-star.

We parked at the seaward carpark, as we usually do these days since most of the good birds are normally to be found at the that end of the reserve. The Pacific Golden Plover (PGP) was frequenting the grassland below the seawall and just a hundred metres or so from the carpark. It had however, chosen to spend much of its time hidden in Juncus grass and could be hard to see so it was necessary to walk along the seawall in order to get an elevated view of the grassland. Luckily the PGP had also chosen to hang out with a small flock of Lapwing which would narrow down the search a bit which we'd have to undertake ourselves because we couldn't see any other birders stood looking for the bird. We knew the PGP was still present though since it had been seen very early morning in front of the 360 hide and had flown over to the grassland where we now headed.

We were not alone on the bank of mud and grass that was constructed to keep the high spring tides out, around fifty cattle were also there. Mrs Caley doesn't like cows much, in fact she doesn't like them at all, so their close proximity to us while we looked for the PGP made for an uncomfortable vigil. Mostly the cows, actually bullocks, were well behaved but one of them, number 8, was an absolute pain and was, well, quite bullish, and always seemed to want to eat the patch of grass that we stood on! I guess he was just being inquisitive but he made us move along a few times. Personally cattle don't bother me so much but I admit to not enjoying their attendant passengers that annoyingly buzz about your face and can often impart some nasty bites. After moving a couple of times we found a spot that the number 8 bull didn't appear interested in and set about searching for the PGP. It took less than a minute to find a few Lapwing loafing around in a taller patch of vegetation and a couple of minutes more to find the Pacific Golden Plover. It's very self-satisfying to pick out a target bird, and especially a lifer, myself and not to have to rely on somebody else to find it.

Pacific Golden Plover (centre)

The birds weren't close so it was another case, as with the Albatross the week before, of securing a life bird without much of the wow factor but we were happy nonetheless. And for fifteen minutes we had the bird to ourselves, the benefit of making an early start. A whole gaggle of birders and toggers were headed our way though so when they arrived and, after being asked, I had directed a few of them to where the bird was, we moved along the seawall a bit to regain our own personal space. I took a few more photos but hurriedly because the herd of young bullocks followed us!

We sat on a bench and watched a family of Avocets feed along the small dyke at the bottom of the bank. There were two juveniles being marshalled by a very protective parent and if any other birds dared to venture too closely then the adult bird would metamorphose into a very angry Avocet. She, I'm assuming it was the mother, would oust Black-headed Gulls from the vicinity even if they were nowhere near her chicks. In a straight fight you would expect the more robust Gull to win hands down against the more flimsy looking Wader and yet it was always the Black-headed Gull that ended up giving way. 

juvenile Avocets

adult Avocet

Black-headed Gull & Avocet wars

A pair of Oystercatchers, an adult and juvenile, were much more difficult opponents for the Avocet and they flatly refused to move away when asked, instead standing their ground and continuing their own feed along the waters edge. If the Oystercatchers approached the Avocets too closely the adult Avocet flew in tidy and decreasing circles around the bulkier birds but ultimately its defence proved futile since the Oystercatchers had that resolve to stand firm.

adult & juvenile Oystercatcher

The Oystercatchers weren't the only obstinate creatures around, the number 8 bullock had decided that the bench belonged to him and not us. We gathered that when we became aware of the sound of grass being tore up right behind us. I tried to move him along but he was having none of it so when a few of his mates joined him, we silently screamed submission and frustratedly left the bench. Cows are big animals and young ones can be quite boisterous so are not worth messing with. Number 8 then proceeded to use the wooden plank as a scratching board! 

We rejoined the throng of birders watching the PGP, a quick check showed that it was still stood in virtually same place, but walked past them to find a spot from where we could still see the bird and have our own space away from other folk, there were a couple of toggers present that we've been unfortunate to encounter on previous twitches and who we'd rather avoid. We would also have a human barrier between us and those pesky cattle, especially number bloody 8! I set the scope up and studied the PGP for a while which after a few minutes did us a huge favour by waking up and walking out on to shorter turf and thus allowing us to fully appreciate its beauty even at the hundred yards distance away that we were. I'm not one for in depth analysis of plumages but obviously you need to know enough about the subject to know that you're looking at the correct species and more importantly to identify something different should you be lucky enough to find something different. The main structural differences that mark a PGP out as different from the European version are longer legs and a slimmer build, neither of which could really be ascertained from the view I had since there was nothing to compare it with. The black underparts extended all the way to underneath the tail but they do so in the American version as well. In summer plumage, as this bird was, the black on the breast and belly is fringed by a wide border of white along the flanks which denotes a Pacific rather than an American (see here for a short blog about the American version seen in 2019) which has no such white edging to the black underparts past the neck area.

Diagnostic in identifying a Pacific Golden Plover against its European cousin species is the underwing colour which is grey-brown as opposed to white in the European birds. Unfortunately the underwings are also grey-brown in the American bird as well but at least when the PGP did a little run and flutter and showed those underwings we were absolutely sure that it wasn't a European Golden Plover but of course we knew that already because we wouldn't have bothered to travel all the way to The Wash to see one of those.

So the real clincher to the identity of the Pacific Golden Plover was to use all of the features and discern the subtle differences between the two rare species and allocate the salient features to the correct one. Very helpfully somebody had already done that, to my knowledge nobody had seen an American Golden Plover at the same time so I was confident that we had ticked the correct species. I am going to study the two at length though, sometime when I remember, if I remember that is.

Happy with our distant view of the Plover we moved on to have a look at the other side of the reserve. We had plans to try for another lifer later in the day so wouldn't want to be at Frampton much past lunchtime. We paused at the top of the bank that overlooked the northern half of the fresh marsh. A scan revealed another unusual bird that we had discovered earlier was present on the reserve, a Ruddy Shelduck. Most of the birding "authorities" disallow counting Ruddy Shelducks because of the strong possibility that they have derived from a reintroduced population in Germany. Apparently a clearly wild wildfowl living wild and free isn't deemed worthy of inclusion on "official" lists. It is however fully suitable for inclusion on my own year list which now stood at 216.

Ruddy Shelduck

While stood up on the bank I scanned the furthest reaches of the marsh. I found a flock of twenty-nine Spoonbills, possibly the largest group that I've ever seen and both Black-tailed and Bar-tailed Godwits, the latter of which was new for the year. A large flock of over hundred Red Knot, also new for the 2021 list, exploded from the marsh and flew out to The Wash. That, "large" flock, would appear inconsequential later on in the day. There were quite a few Dunlin and Ringed Plovers feeding on the scrapes and as I sorted through them, I spotted a Little Stint. At least I thought I did but before I could double-check, the whole flock took to flight and disappeared. Unwilling to add Little Stint to the year list on such a quick view and considering that the morning was waning, we decided to go and check the scrape nearest the car where I had clocked a Wood Sandpiper on our way to view the PGP.  The Wood Sandpiper was still there feeding along the closest muddy edge of the shallow pool. A small bird was following it, it seemed that the Little Stint hadn't gone far at all!

Little Stint & Wood Sandpiper

The Wood Sandpiper and Little Stint shared the patch of water with several other wading birds, most notably a juvenile Little Ringed Plover but also with Ringed Plovers, Redshanks and a few Dunlin. In just a few hours and without walking any further than a few hundred metres we had added five new year ticks and another lifer as well as enjoying many other wonderful birds. Somehow we had contrived to miss a Short-eared Owl and a whole glut of Greenshanks but we'll get those another day so we weren't too bothered by that. We had a much rarer wading bird on our radar on the opposite side of The Wash at another RSPB reserve, Snettisham in Norfolk.

Wood Sandpiper

juvenile Little Ringed Plover

Little Stint

Redshank

The bird we were going to see would only be visible at Snettisham around the time of the high tide which wouldn't be until seven o'clock in the evening so we had a bit of time to kill. By chance a White Stork had been found just a few miles away from Kings Lynn which lay on our route so it'd only take a small detour to see it. Now, White Storks fall into the same confusion category as Ruddy Shelducks because lots of them come from reintroduction schemes so their "wildness" can't be corroborated. This particular White Stork had been seen wearing jewellery on its ankle too so its credibility was reduced further. None of that concerns me though and I would be happy to both see it and to add it to my own personal year list. It would also be only the second White Stork that I've seen in the UK, remarkably I've seen three of the rarer, and always unquestioned, Black Storks, after one in Buckinghamshire over twenty years ago (which was ok to tick since all the fuss about White Storks has been generated more recently). 

We found the right place, a couple of birders stood by the side of a busy road helped with that, and parked up as safely as we could near an equally busy junction. We were close to the village of Ashenwick where much of the surrounding woodland and heathland is a conservation area and out of bounds to the general public. We joined the couple at the fence and immediately saw the White Stork feeding in long grass at the far side of the field. The field contained a herd of horses and in Cattle Egret style the White Stork was following them and taking insects, probably grasshoppers, disturbed from the grass. The way it was feeding reminded me of a Squacco Heron that I saw at Pagham in 2019 which had also gorged itself on insects.

White Stork

The White Stork was very distant across the field but I noticed a track that ran alongside the field edge so we walked along it to get closer. I couldn't understand why the other birders hadn't done the same since the short walk brought us up much closer to the bird. Maybe the track was private, oops! Now we could scope the bird and see every detail including the small metal ring on its left leg. Storks are odd looking birds, gangly and yet bulky bodied with, in the case of this White Stork, a bill that a carrot nosed Snowman would be proud of. We didn't see the bird fly but if we had then the long slender black wings would have been evident. Whether or not the purists accept such birds, the White Stork, clearly living wild and free, was the 220th species added to my year list.

We arrived at Snettisham a full three hours before the high tide mark. The walk from the carpark to the beach, I say beach but in effect it is the "mud", took us twenty minutes or so. There were already quite a few other birders assembled ready for the main event that would hopefully take place a little later. I spoke to a chap and asked him why so many folk were stood just by the end of the beach huts bearing in mind that the sighting of the rare wader had been further along the track towards the hides. He told me that the consensus was that the mud there would be the first area to be covered by water when the tide came in so that feeding birds would be pushed up in front of the huts. A reasonable explanation and reason enough to linger in that area but I have always adhered to the school of thought which considers that the last place a bird was seen is the first place to look so it would be half a mile south by the old jetty for us. As we walked we passed a fine male Linnet.

Linnet

A few hundred metres along the track a familiar bird flew past my right shoulder, the white outer tail feathers were striking enough for me to exclaim, "Turtle Dove!" We've missed Turtle Doves on our local Otmoor reserve this year, with sadly none reported in what was always a reliable area for them, so to see one here was a real treat. We had seen one earlier in the year at Frampton Marsh and it does appear that they may be retracting their range eastwards. As most people will know, Turtle Doves are a species that are facing huge problems on their wintering grounds as well as having to face the hunters guns on their migration routes, all of which is having a devastating effect on the numbers returning to the UK each year. Anyway, the Purrtle Dove (as I sometimes coin them for obvious reasons) very dutifully landed in a small bush about fifty metres away. By careful and slow stalking I managed to get within range and take some pleasing shots of what must be our most beautiful Dove species. Let's hope that they continue to make it to the UK for our summers which would be far poorer without them.

Turtle Dove

We reached the shore hide and took a seat outside and looked out at the huge expanse of mud. When the tide is out the edge of the sea is roughly about five miles away but The Wash is extremely shallow so when the tide turns, it rushes in an impressive rate of knots (excuse that totally intended pun, more to be revealed below). We could see swirling masses of birds way out on the horizon but it would be a while yet before they would be forced in by the tide. 

In the meantime we watched some of the birds that were loafing out on the mud. Waders were represented by Redshanks and Oystercatchers, Terns by Common, Sandwich and a couple of the Little variety. Most birds were too far out to be worth photographing but I found a nice Mediterranean Gull to capture and to use up a bit of time.

Mediterranean Gull

The first flocks of birds began flying into the gravel pit behind the beach at about five-thirty. Mostly they were represented by just two species, loose groups of Black-tailed Godwits and much denser and faster flying flocks of Red Knots. The Godwits always flew in relatively high before whiffling down onto the islands in the gravel pit, whereas the Knots barely cleared our heads as they passed with a great whoosh of wingbeats. Later flocks of Dunlin came rushing in as well as groups of Oystercatchers and Redshanks. Snettisham provides an unrivalled spectacle, akin to watching a Starling murmuration but much longer lasting, and it isn't geared up to the evenings just before dusk but instead to the state of the tides so it can be enjoyed at much more civilised times of day.

Red Knot (& Black-tailed Godwit, top photo)

By six o'clock the islands in the pit were completely covered by birds so I took a few minutes inside the shore hide and took some record shots of the birds. A still frame doesn't do justice to the experience of seeing thousands of wading birds perpetually jostling for position on the only dry land available. It really does need to be seen at first hand to appreciate the extravaganza that the birds provide.

We could see the masses of Waders, resembling giant swarms of insects, at the edge of the water getting much closer as the evening wore on. The creeks were filling up with water and birds were beginning to be pushed up out of them and onto the mud expanses. Lots of like-minded folk were streaming onto the reserve too and the excitement amongst the birders and twitchers was ramping up little by little until a fever pitch was reached when the water suddenly started to appear over the mud. Another Mediterranean Gull flew past calling loudly as if to say, "Get ready, the birds are coming".

We had come to see a bird that had first been found on Thursday and had been seen again on the Friday. The Western Sandpiper, a diminutive Peep (as Americans call them) species from North America, is very rarely seen in the UK with just a handful of previous records. It had been observed during the high tide period over the past two days and was still present in the morning. I chose to go to Frampton for the Pacific Golden Plover first rather than the Western Sandpiper because I didn't think that we'd make Snettisham in time for the mornings high tide which was a little after eight o'clock.  It then transpired the Western Sandpiper showed best after the high water mark and gave excellent views almost up to midday. As I stood waiting for the onrush of birds to be pushed up the mudflats by the incoming tide, I had a very awful feeling that I'd come to rue that decision and how I wished that I'd evaluated the situation better and turned my itinerary around. If I had done then the rare wader would already be in the bag.

The sea was filling the creeks as fast as the water was flooding over the mudflats, soon there was only a narrow exspanse of mud on either side of the closest creek near to the old jetty. Hundreds of Dunlin just appeared as if from nowhere and began frantically feeding at the edge of the water. It was a race against time for the small wading birds and more and more arrived to join in on the feast of stranded flies, insects and worms washed up by the tide. I looked to the north and saw the twitchers that had assembled at that end of the beach all walking, some running in fact, towards us. The beach by the huts had already been completely covered by the sea. Then somebody shouted, "I've got it!" and "It's running left behind the Dunlin". Panic stations!

Further instructions were bellowed out as others got on the bird, "It's the furthest wader out, behind the Dunlin", "In line with the green bit" and so on. Directions to a bird are great if you understand them or are in a position to line up or recognise the landmarks when given but, of course, we all stand in slightly different places so our lines of sight are all different. If I thought it was tough trying to get on the Albatross last week in the huge throng of Gannets, this game of trying to pinpoint a four inch long mud crawler in a congregation of a thousand other, albeit slightly bigger five inch mud crawlers, was bloody difficult. Really, really, bloody hard! 

I tried my hardest to calm myself, not wanting to make the same mistakes as I did with the Albatross. I scanned the ever moving flocks of Dunlin looking for the Westie, a task made a tad more difficult again by there being several Sanderling running full pelt amongst them as well. And then, eureka, I had it, running quickly at the back of the flock just like the man had said, a tiny little, nondescript at the distance, bird. I quickly got Mrs Caley behind the scope so that she could see it as well which she did and I breathed a sigh of relief at that. I took a hurried record shot for posterity which I've annotated to help you see it!

The Western Sandpiper, once you'd got your eye in, was actually not so hard to pick out even when it was scuttling along quickly. It had a curious feeding action of stooping forward on crouched legs when feeding, unlike the Dunlin which all fed with a straight legged action. I managed to take a few more record shots, better ones that actually prove that I saw the bird. Sometimes the experience far outweighs the photos that you mange to take!

As the birds moved ever southwards along the mud, racing ahead of the mini-tsunami that was devouring the available dry land, the mass of a hundred and more twitchers moved with them. We were constantly shifting position trying to keep up with the bird which became more difficult as the mud disappeared because the birds were even more concentrated. A Little Stint also added to the confusion. Dan and Tricia, friends of ours from Oxfordshire hailed us as we ran, well I ran, Mrs Caley calmly walked and caught me upon whenever I stopped. We had more fleeting views but it was much harder than at first to stay on the bird. I resorted to taking random photos of the birds in the hope of securing some more lucky shots of the Western Sandpiper, I wasn't very successful at that, although I did get a snap of both the Westie and the Little Stint in the same frame, although you'll probably need to take my word for that.

With no mud left the whole flock of birds moved further away and that was that. It had been a frantic way to end a very enjoyable day. I'm not usually a big fan of a mad twitch, and this was one helluva mad twitch, but this had been fun. The excitement amongst the birders was palpable, sizzling almost. Birders are usually so laid back, I like to think I am too, but in a situation like this everybody reached that fever pitch. Most people saw the bird, a few didn't and I shared their disappointment. I recall being at a twitch in Cornwall for a Scarlet Tanager which showed while we were there but we didn't see it despite being in the right place at the right time. That was gutting at the time, still is now, and we've not had a chance of redemption since.

"It's in that lot somewhere!"

Four life ticks in eight days was heady birding indeed. I wonder what will be the next bird to get us all twitchy again. I can't wait.