While we were out at sea on our pelagic trip from Falmouth a fortnight ago, a Red-footed Booby that had been seen from a similar outing in the Isles of Scilly the week before that, had amazingly been re-found roosting on the helipad of the Bishop Rock Lighthouse by the crew of Scilly Pelagics. The skipper of that pelagic, seabird aficionado Joe Pender, had investigated the lighthouse on a hunch that the Booby had to be resting up somewhere and that was a likely spot since other seabirds use it as well. Apart from a bird found moribund on a Sussex beach a few years ago, this was the only record of the species in Britain. The Red-footed Booby's normal range is the tropical seas throughout the globe but they are rarely seen near land unless breeding. The closest breeding colonies to the UK are in the Caribbean so this bird was a long way, about four thousand miles, from home. Spurred on by the sighting, the Boatsmen of Scilly, organised daily trips out to the lighthouse, with departures timed to coincide with the arrival of the Scillonian III ferry from Penzance and returning in time for the trip back to mainland. There were also the usual pelagic trips organised by Joe and his team. The Booby was then seen on the next four days before stormy weather put paid to trips out to the lighthouse over the weekend. When the conditions calmed the Red-footed Booby was once again back on top of the lighthouse and remained all week delighting many observers and day-trippers. Only once did it give a boat load of hopefuls concern when it was originally missing when they arrived but turned up again before they left. Several of my birding friends from Oxfordshire had connected with the bird through the preceding week, including my lucky mate Kev who took the photo below. Just look at those feet!
 |
| Red-footed Booby (Sula sula) courtesy of Kev Heath |
I made plans for a trip of our own. I was keen anyway to take a day-trip on the Scillonian because I wanted to see some Cory's Shearwaters up close after missing out on them on our Falmouth pelagic. We have continuing issues at home so our own sortie to the Isles of Scilly would need to be brief. Penzance lies some two hundred and eighty miles from where we live so it would be a long journey. Although we twitch rare birds regularly, I don't consider ourselves to be in the "mad" twitchers category, the type of people who happily travel to far-flung islands at the drop of a hat to see a bird. The only previous one day twitch that we'd made into Cornwall was incidentally for a Brown Booby at Kynance Cove on The Lizard peninsula which was successful but only just! Sunday would be our best chance and we decided that we could afford an overnight stay on the Saturday, take the trip over to Scilly and to the lighthouse and then drive straight home afterwards. The weather deteriorated again on Saturday with strong winds but the Scilly pelagic team managed to make a trip out in the early morning and the Red-footed Booby was still perched up on the netting of the lighthouse helipad.
So on to our own big adventure. We left home in decent weather so it was hard to believe that it wasn't quite so clement in the south-west. Our weather normally comes from that direction though so it was no big surprise that it was raining by the time we reached the M5. Traffic was unexpectedly light considering that it was a bank holiday weekend and we made good time until pulling off for a necessary stop at Taunton. The previous day an Icterine Warbler had been found at Beer on the south Devon coast. We had already seen an Icky in Scotland during our June holiday so weren't that moved by the report but when it was upgraded to the very similar looking Melodious Warbler after scrutiny of photos, then it became a target bird, and would be a year tick, for us. However, by the time we parked up at Beer, the identity had been reverted again back to an Icterine Warbler! But we were there so may as well have a look at least. We decided we needed some sustenance first and chose a walk down onto the pebble beach to take a Devon cream tea (with coffee) while gazing out to sea which looked much calmer than I was expecting. We'd never been to Beer before, surprising really since we'd been to most places in the south of England and I wondered how I'd managed to avoid surely the best named village that there is. Choosing to eat on the beach, in reality we were forced to since everywhere in the village centre was busy, turned out to be an ill-fated move because of a plague of wasps that were pilfering our strawberry jam quicker than it could be spread on the scones. I managed to placate them a bit by giving them their own spoonful but it was still uncomfortable dining. Not that I have anything against Wasps, I realise that they're important creatures and I wouldn't knowingly harm a fly, so I resolved to put up with them. Despite the unwelcome intrusion eating scones while in Beer was very pleasant indeed. A future mission will be to visit Scone in Perthshire, and have a couple of beers.
We drove up the hill to a carpark close to where the Warbler had been sighted, it was the only place to park without having to undertake a long uphill walk. The carpark was essentially a rough field and a princely sum of over a fiver was required to park for just a couple of hours. I hate paying extortionate fees to park but it seemed as though there was no alternative. It can take a fair while sometimes to connect with skulking warblers so I reasoned we'd need up to four hours and that needed a tenner. The onset of rain made our mind up, we'd save the money for a coffee and cake. In my opinion car parking should be paid for at the end of a stay, not at the start, then you'd only pay for the time you were actually there. The fact that we had already seen an Icterine Warbler this year and because the rain had intensified meant that we were quite content as we drove away knowing that we had other birds to chase the next day.
We found a decent coffee stop and the drive went smoothly enough until we came across a queue of traffic just as we entered Cornwall, caused by a minor shunt between two cars. Anybody who has driven into the furthest reaches of the county over the past couple of years will be aware of a large construction project, upgrading one of the last remaining undeveloped sections of the A30 into dual carriageway which will, as countless signs tell us, improve future journeys. For now however, the nine-mile stretch can be very arduous going and this day was no different. The first few miles through the roadworks was smoothly negotiated but then at one of the pinch points where traffic travelling north-south and vice versa has to cross the trunk road, we slowed to a crawl. I was in no mood to sit staring at the tail lights of the truck in front so detoured off to the north coast and enjoyed a bendy, twisty drive along leafy lanes and overgrown farm tracks for a while. At one point we followed a Grey Squirrel along a narrow lane for over a quarter of a mile while we waited for it to find a tree it liked. It's funny how we're content to follow a small animal for ages but baulk at the prospect of sitting behind a lorry. I've spent many holidays in Cornwall and have travelled around much of it so I know where places are relative to each other. By staying a few miles north of the A30 and driving westwards, I eventually rejoined the main road past the roadworks section, far more relaxed than I would have been otherwise.
It was already nearing four o'clock when we passed Camborne. Earlier we had entertained the idea of visiting the Eden Project since we'd never been before but imagined that it'd be very busy and besides I needed our money for the boats planned tomorrow. Five and a half hours on a boat would cost less than entry to the Bio-domes. I know I sound like a skinflint but when you enjoy twitching, you have to stretch the money out. We settled on revisiting Paradise (Bird) Park at Hayle for a couple of hours, thinking that folk would have gone back to their holiday cottages and caravans. That proved to be wishful thinking though, since it was still packed. We took advantage of the over-60's special rate (the first time I've ever used a concessionary rate and I feel older because of it) and took our places amongst the throng. As we walked through the entry kiosk a tannoy message informed us that the flying display was over and thank you for attending. Oh well, we still had the Otter feed to look forward to.
When our daughter was young we'd visit Paradise Park regularly, especially if the weather was less than clement. I'd always had a love for birds and even though we weren't birdwatching as such back then it was always good to see the variety of species on offer. I seem to remember there being more birds on show back then though so was slightly disappointed as we gazed into each enclosure looking for the birds that were supposed to be in them, to be fair there's always a bit of sadness when you see caged animals but the birds, otters, and red pandas are all well looked after. There is still lots to see such as Owls, Penguins, Choughs (this years offspring of which are being reintroduced into the cliffs of Kent in the autumn), Penguins plus a few less expected exhibits like Village Weavers and Hornbills.
 |
| Bleeding Heart Dove |
 |
| Chough |
 |
| Sun Conures |
 |
| Superb Starling |
 |
| Tawny Eagle |
 |
| Village Weaver |
Paradise Park plays an important part in the conversation of many species, especially in the Parrot family. There are ten pairs of Lear's Macaws which are absolutely stunning in their blue plumage, and you can't beat Blue. I took photos of some of the birds using the zoom to eliminate the wire fencing. The bird that I enjoyed the most was a humble Hoopoe, a species I've seen many times in the wild, and normally considered exotic but in this company almost plain because it's so familiar.
 |
| Hoopoe |
Our overnight stay would be at the PremierInn in Helston, for the second time in a fortnight! In August the choice of affordable accommodation in the area is limited and PremierInns are as good as anywhere for a short stay. The pub next door though is less than appealing so we chose to find a fish and chip restaurant before leaving Hayle, and Sanders is to be recommended since they served us up a very nice fish supper each.
We woke early and were the first to hit the breakfast table. Excited for the day ahead, I pigged out and ate my way through half of the sausages. A very good friend of mine is a seasoned old seafarer and his advice for any trip at sea is to fill your stomach with a good breakfast before leaving port. I've never been seasick and I believe that the full tum helps. When going on a boat eat, it's far better than drinking alcohol which definitely doesn't help, I've been there and done that, and it doesn't always end well. Fully content we took the short drive to Penzance full of optimism for the day ahead. Parking was easy on the quiet Sunday morning and we joined the short queue for the Scillonian III ferry. It was evident that we wouldn't be the only birders on the trip, almost everybody embarking had binoculars and many had cameras too. I knew a couple of the fellow hopefuls on the trip and bumped into Rob and Thomas as soon as we were on board. There was around an hour to wait before the boat left port and there was much excited but apprehensive chatter of what lay ahead. The weather forecast wasn't the best, we could expect some showers and the wind was still fairly strong so those with less solid sea legs were tucking into preventative seasickness pills. Incredibly, bearing in mind that it wasn't even nine o'clock, a couple of Dutch chaps were already imbibing bottles of cider. I wished them well for later, once the ferry passed Lands End and entered the North Atlantic swell, the crossing would be sure to get rougher.
During the past week or so, since the Red-footed Booby had been discovered atop the lighthouse, many birders had made the trip and all had seen amazing numbers of seabirds, in particular the larger Shearwaters and most notably from my point of view, lots of Cory's Shearwaters. On one trip a very rare Fea's-type Petrel (apparently there are three versions of this bird, mystifyingly all assigned full species status and yet indiscernible in the field, which I for one find extremely confusing) had been noted just half an hour out of Penzance. Pomarine and Long-tailed Skuas had also been seen on some sailings. So when the Scillonian slid quietly out of dock and into Mounts Bay, the sense of excitement of what may lie ahead was palpable. We had barely left the confines of the harbour area when the first birds appeared in the shape of several rafts of Manx Shearwaters. There must be tens of thousands of Manxies in British waters. We saw many from our pelagic out of Falmouth two weeks ago.
 |
| Manx Shearwater (Puffinus puffinus) & Guillemot (Uria aalge) |
Within half an hour of leaving Penzance, I had my first ever decent view of a Cory's Shearwater. I had only added the species to my life list the day before the Falmouth pelagic but frustratingly we had failed to find any on the trip out to sea the next day. Now as we neared the Cornish bend and Lands End, we were seeing hundreds. They were by far the most prevalent Shearwater seen from the Scillonian. The predicted drizzle had materialised so it wasn't great conditions for enjoying them though or for capturing good photos but I was made up. I should have done a trip like this years ago. I felt like a kid in a sweet shop, there were so many Cory's, at times I didn't know which way to look.
 |
| Cory's Shearwater (Calonectris diomedea borealis) |
Once out into the "open" sea there were even more Shearwaters, mostly Cory's but a few Great's as well. I was stood with Rob and Thomas, and they called a Sooty Shearwater that fled past. A new found friend, and expert birder, Steve, reviewed the photo and thought that it was actually a Balearic Shearwater, the first of the year for me. Another Balearic was seen a little further on and several more Sooty's were also seen. Frustratingly I didn't manage to photograph any of them. I wasn't having my best day with the camera. I was also struggling with the rain on my specs, I had a similar problem on the Ullapool to Stornaway ferry last year. Rain misted glasses make birding tricky. It's about time somebody invented plausible windscreen wipers for spectacles.
 |
| Cory's Shearwater (Calonectris diomedea borealis) |
 |
| Great Shearwater (Ardenna gravis) |
 |
| Mixed flock of Cory's, Great & Manx Shearwaters |
There were several shouts amongst the assembled birders of Scopoli's Shearwater. Scopoli's is the mediterranean, and nominate, form of Cory's Shearwater and the differences between them, despite being very subtle, are deemed worthy enough to give both full species status. For now at least anyway, I have a feeling that the two species may be lumped together in the future. For most of the journey I had leant against the port side barrier while Mrs Caley remained seated in amongst most of the other birders. While making sure that she was ok, a chap pointed out what he thought was a Scopoli's. It was one of three birds flying at mid-range from the boat. I fired off shots at the birds but on review, either I didn't get the right bird, or they were all Cory's. One of the distinguishing features that differentiates a Scopoli's from a Cory's is the amount of white in the primary feathers and the consequent weakening of the dark border on the rear of the under wing. I took a lot of photos of Cory's during the ferry trip and the following pelagic out to the Bishop's Rock Lighthouse and none of them captured any good candidates for Scopoli's Shearwater. I did however, watch a couple of the claimed birds at length, although neither were particularly close to the boat. I could claim the birds for myself, considering that others were certain of the birds identity, but I couldn't say for sure that I could personally identify any of them, so for now the species remains off my life list.
The run of Cory's continued all the way into the waters of the Isles of Scilly themselves. By the end of the sailing I was becoming almost blasé, 'Oh look, there's just another Cory's'. For a bird that I'd only seen in the last two weeks as well. And they are superb birds, effortlessly flying over a fairly rough sea with barely a wingbeat. I happily promoted the species into my top ten favourite seabirds. Number one in that list is still the amazing Black-browed Albatross that graced Bempton Cliffs over the past few summers (but sadly not this year). I'd love to see Albatrosses from a boat in a stormy sea although I understand that a calm day in the Southern Oceans would make the crossing we'd just made seem like rafting across a millpond by comparison.
We docked at St Mary's and the excitement notched up a bit more. The MV Kingfisher was waiting right next to the ferry and would be packed with almost eighty expectant birders. We knew from reports received from birders on an earlier pelagic that the Red-footed Booby was present on top of the lighthouse when we left Penzance. The fact that it had flown off around ten o'clock wouldn't matter since it regularly returned to its roost spot on the helipad netting and had been there at one o'clock in the afternoon, the time we would get to the lighthouse, every day since its discovery. Mrs Caley and I grabbed the last spaces on the boat, next to the wheelhouse, and the Kingfisher headed straight out into the harbour with no ceremony from the pilot or crew whatsoever. This was a singular mission and it was undertaken with no fuss at all.
 |
| Calm before the storm. |
I have no familiarity with the seas around Scilly at all and was soon all at sea with regard to the direction we were going in and which islands we were passing as we went. I did know that we had to head south-westwards to reach the Bishop Rock lighthouse and I also knew that the weather would be coming straight at us from that direction so was braced for what might become an uncomfortable trip. Both of us are excellent sailors though so we didn't envisage any problems personally in holding onto our breakfasts. It turned out that others would be far less fortunate. The pelagic from Falmouth a fortnight before was a bit lumpy at times so we knew what to expect. Or did we?
The skipper set a course that initially hugged the south-west corner of St Marys before we reached the open channel between there and St Agnes. That was when we all realised that this would be a very entertaining afternoon, if you enjoy white-knuckle theme-park type rides that is, otherwise it was going to seem like a very long few hours indeed. Once subjected to the swell remaining from the squally storms of the previous day, the boat ride became akin to a very wet and bumpy rollercoaster. We were headed straight into the swells and the boat pitched and dived, up and down, sometimes rocking sideways, like it was riding a deranged lunatic horse that only the very best buckaroo could tame. The boat had shiny plastic type bench seating and it was difficult to remain in the same place as the pilot raced as fast as he could towards the lighthouse. I must pass compliment to the skipper because he clearly knew what he was doing because when a wave almost as high as a house approached, he did stall the engines so that we bobbed up and over it rather than ploughing right through it. I managed to wedge myself in against the wheelhouse and Mrs Caley hung onto me which kept us more or less stable, although at times I was flung off my feet and I still have bruises where I was bashed into the seat and other fixtures of the boat. Being at the front of the craft meant we were also getting a frequent dousing from the spray as the boat lurched from one wave to another. I have to be honest though, I was absolutely loving it!
When we reached Gugh and St Agnes we were again protected from the worst of the conditions by the small island of Annet so the boat found a more even keel for a while. As the boat was steered through rocky outcrops to both sides, we all had our first look at the lighthouse, now around two miles away. Even from that distance many pairs of eyes strained through binoculars to see if the Booby was sat on it and some tried photographing it. Bishop Rock and the lighthouse, incidentally the smallest island in the world to have a building on it, lies twenty-four miles west of Lands End. How anybody managed to build a lighthouse on that little piece of land so far out to sea gets my upmost admiration. The actual method of building and improvements made since the original was washed away before completion makes for extremely interesting reading but far too lengthy to include all details here. If you're interested then "boogle" it (sic). A chap with a long lens attached to his camera said that he could only see Great Black-backed Gulls on the lighthouse……..
 |
| Bishop Rock Lighthouse |
No concerns though since on a couple of previous sailings that met the Scillonian the Red-footed Booby wasn't initially present but had flown in within the time allocated so everybody had connected even if there were some anxious moments. Just as we were getting used to bobbing away on an ocean wave, the boat steered out of the lee of Annet island and we were pitched into the Atlantic swell again. And this time it was really rough. The fairground attraction had been ramped up to full speed. There was no standing, or even sitting, without holding on to something. Rain swept in as well and even though we nearing the lighthouse with every wave and trough we rode, the forty-nine metre tower was disappearing from view as it became clouded in fine rain and sea spray. Apparently storms can bring waves so fierce and high, about ten times that of those that we were sailing in, that they almost completely cover the lighthouse. Incredibly the building used to be manned as well! I shudder when I think of what those lighthouse keepers had to live through. Of course these days nobody has to endure living in it, all lighthouses are automated nowadays but folk still have to upkeep the building and machinery, hence the need of a helipad. In the original days of the lighthouse before mankind had built hovering flying machine, people had to be winched onto the tower from boats that couldn't land because of the rocks. My mate Trev of Trinity Lighthouse fame (to us anyway) told me that there is a bird scarer on the helipad designed to keep roosting birds away. Apparently the Booby had just ignored it so far, proving what daft creatures they are. They are called Booby's for a reason.
One second we could see sea and the next sky then the deck of the boat, then the sky again and so on. We could also see Cory's Shearwaters, at times very close to the boat too. I could only imagine the fun they must have had watching us ridiculous souls clinging on for desperate life as they themselves breezed past the boat on stiff wings. You could even sense the birds thinking, 'This isn't even rough mate, you should be here when it really blows'! One Cory seemed particularly pleased that it had complete mastery of the conditions and it treated us to several circumnavigations of the boat. Not that we could follow it much because most of the time we were staring at the sea or sky. However, the more intrepid of us weren't going to be put off that easily, and attempts were made to take photographs. Peering through the viewfinder almost cost me my right eye but I did, or rather the stabilised lens of the camera did, manage to capture some images. This was a different level of bird photography and I was enjoying every second even though it was so difficult.
And then the moment that we had all eagerly looked forward to but were now secretly dreading. We came alongside the Bishop Rock. One hundred and sixty eyes peered upwards to the netting at the top. And saw half a dozen Great Black-backed Gulls and no Red-footed Booby. Crestfallen doesn't even start to describe how disappointed we felt. There was total silence aboard the boat and anguished faces throughout. As Unlucky Alf would say, "Ah, bugger"!
 |
| The fabled helipad minus the Red-footed Booby |
But hope remained that the Booby, as it had done so before, would fly back to the lighthouse while we were still out there. I had that sinking feeling though, which is definitely not a good one to have when bouncing around above several hundred feet of water. At Joe's (the skipper and superb seabird birder) suggestion we set off towards the Western Rocks, a reef about half a mile back towards the islands. He'd noticed some Gannets feeding on the way out and reasoned that the Booby could be with them. If anybody could track the Booby down in the short time we had available then it would be Joe. Unfortunately there was no sign of the target bird but we did get extended time with more Cory's Shearwaters. Now that there was no hurry to get anywhere since we had all agreed that we'd hang around in the vicinity of Bishop Rock until the last moment before we had to return to port, Joe was able to sail at a slower speed which made the job of photographing the seabirds that little bit easier. Not much easier because the boat was still dancing around like a rubber duck in a bath, but a bit nonetheless. One Cory's Shearwater flew right alongside our side of the boat allowing me to grab some decent shots when I could steady myself off long enough to focus the camera.
The Western Rocks didn't yield the Red-footed Booby either and it wasn't fishing with the small flock of diving Gannets either. An immature gannet briefly raised the spirits but it wouldn't metamorphose into the desired bird once we had gotten close enough to identify it properly. With the clock ticking it seemed as if our luck would be out.
 |
| Gannet (Morus bassanus) |
The consensus was that we should head back to the lighthouse and give it as long as we had in the hope that the Booby would return. In my heart I had already conceded defeat but rather than sit disconsolately staring up at the sans Booby helipad as we approached it, I spent the time photographing the Cory's Shearwaters that were gliding past the boat at regular intervals. Just two weeks ago the bird I most wanted to see and photograph was the Cory's Shearwater so I had to be happy to be doing just that. They are amazing birds after all. Unfortunately a "better" bird to bag had come along and to miss out on it had tainted the day somewhat.
We made several circuits of Bishop Rock but the Red-footed Booby didn't materialise. We were beat. The time came when we had to return to St Marys for the return crossing aboard the Scillonian. As half of the birders stared backwards towards the lighthouse as we sailed away, and others forlornly scanned the bleak grey sky for the bird flying in, I just had to occupy myself and I did that by photographing more Shearwaters. We came across many more Cory's and a few Greats too. A European Storm Petrel also flew across the boughs but nobody really cared. When the dust had settled on the day a few days later though, I was delighted with some of my photos. I got most of what I wanted from the trip.
The massive disappointment of the dip had turned into gallows humour by the time we'd rejoined the Scillonian. Twitchers always say that you have to earn the elation of successful twitches by experiencing the dips and failures. One day, maybe even later this year, we'll have another chance of connecting with the Red-footed Booby and when we do then the delight will border on rapture. We reacquainted ourselves with our friends, who of course had been on the Kingfisher but at the other end of it and there had been no walking about on that boat! Not voluntarily anyway. I took a photo of the craft that had been flung around by the sea over the previous couple of hours, now safely and serenely moored up in the harbour. My thanks to Joe and his crew for trying so hard on our behalf. His expertise and my new found love for pelagics have given me a longing to book a holiday to Scilly next year with the aim of taking in a whole weekend's pelagic trips. Who knows the Booby may still be around.
The Scillonian set sail for the mainland and the dip was momentarily forgotten as most of the birders got back to birding again. As if to spite us a bit more, the weather had improved and the sun was shining. You could now even see the lighthouse clearly from the boat. A few folk joked that they could make out the Booby sat back on the helipad, and it was laughing at us.
I spotted an Arctic Skua just a few minutes out of the harbour, warmly received because it was our first of the year and filled a hole created by missing out on the species in Scotland in June. None of the other hoped for Skuas would grace us with their presence though.
 |
| Arctic Skua (Stercorarius parasiticus) |
There were more Shearwaters on the way back but my heart wasn't really in it. I was done in, tired and I still had the four plus hours drive home to look forward to. I found a nice sheltered sunny spot for Mrs Caley and myself to sit in and only occasionally jumped up to photograph a Cory's if I saw one flying close to the boat. It was a crossing made in a totally different mood to earlier.
It hurt even more the following day when birders, including two of my Oxfordshire birding friends, travelling out to the Bishop Rock exactly as we had done on the day before, were treated to the Red-footed Booby still resting on its chosen spot. Even more pain was administered when a sharp eyed birder, almost unbelievably, spotted a Brown Booby resting on the lower concrete wall of the same lighthouse. We didn't see any Booby's, the day after they got two! I felt like giving up.But of course, I won't, and I'm already planning another assault on that bloody lighthouse and that Booby, but the costs will have gone up proportionately owing to fewer birders still wanting to go. We were just unlucky on the day and the only way to defeat bad luck is to keep at it until that luck changes for the better!
Year List additions;
280) Balearic Shearwater, 281) Great Shearwater, 282) Arctic Skua
If you know the inspiration for the title of this blog then that awful tune will be stuck in your head by now. Personally I'm ashamed to admit I even know of it (it's quite famous) and have eased the awful disco track by a band I shouldn't ever acknowledge knowing about by implanting 'The Great Skua' by Sea Power in my brain, which if you close your eyes and imagine you're at sea with the birds is the perfect accompaniment to this post (except that you won't be able to read it if your eyes are shut). Alternatively listen to the eerie sounding 'The Lighthouse" by Interpol. That'll help.
No comments:
Post a Comment