Old Caley's Diary: 2024

Tuesday, 19 November 2024

A quick recap of last November's birding trips. I did manage to write up the best couple of twitches at the time so this will be quite a short effort from me for a change. Hurrah, I hear you say.

OCD; October 2023

I'm still trying to complete last years diary. Luckily I keep notes of what I see and where I go so have a stimulus to aid my memory. Every month that I write up not only ensures that Old Caley's Diary is kept complete but also clears up my desktop of photo folders which is currently so full, stuff is falling off on to the floor.

This latest blog features a cracking day out at Frampton Marsh where we reached the magic Big Year total of 300 again, and an incredible day's birding at Flamborough Head. Lots of content from those two days means that the bulk of my birding in October, based around a whole week's holiday in Cornwall gets its own blog entry here.

This time next year, I'll probably be writing up October 2024. I need to retire.

Cornwall; October 2023

A brief summary of our (almost) annual escape to Cornwall for a weeks birding.

OCD Catch-up; September 2023

Magnificent Magnolia! OCD flashback, Friday 22nd September 2023

A Gap Filled. Baird's Sandpiper, 4th August 2024

We'd been having a (seemingly) tough time of it birding wise and July had been almost a bird-free month for us. The middle of the year is often referred to as the doldrums when good birds are hard to come by because they become secretive while undergoing post breeding moult, and autumn migration has yet to start. This particular July was even harder than usual because our luck had almost completely run out and we struggled to connect with anything since we had ticked a Black-winged Pratincole at the end of June. The only bird of note we added to our year list was the returning Bonaparte's Gull in Kent and we had to settle with distant views of the bird mostly dozing. We had hoped to add a fabulous Franklin's Gull to our life list when one settled in next to Crossness by the River Thames in London for four days but then disappeared just as the weekend, and our chance to go, arrived.

The following week we travelled to Cheddar, the home of proper cheese, in Somerset hoping to see a Spotted Sandpiper that had shown incredibly well the day before. However, even before leaving home on the Saturday morning, I had reservations about whether the trip would be successful, having seen photographs proving that the bird had been hounded and continually disturbed while it fed along the reservoir edge. Flight shots of birds are to my mind, the best and most sought after, but when you see the bird flying ahead of encroaching birders then you realise that the bird isn't being allowed to settle. Cheddar reservoir has a wide gently sloping concrete apron which is exposed when water levels are low. It isn't supposed to be used as a platform for people to walk along or for dogs to run amok on but unfortunately it is. At Farmoor, most birders will wait and sit on the apron wall, allowing any bird to approach. If movement is kept to a minimum, wading birds will usually walk past, directly underneath the observer. Therefore, it wasn't really a surprise when the bird had disappeared overnight.

We weren't the only birders disappointed that we'd missed out on the Spotted Sandpiper. We also met our friends Rob & Thomas, and Nick while searching in vain. They had far more reason to be downhearted since none of them had seen the species before. We've been fortunate to see four of the North American counterpart of the Common Sandpiper. While we chatted I mentioned that I too had a few big holes in my own life list with a few "obvious" birds missing. One of those was Baird's Sandpiper, a bird that somehow I had never gotten round to seeing despite quite a few making it to British shores every year. We had never quite been in the right place at the right time to encounter one.

Prophetic then that just five days later, a Baird's Sandpiper was found at Goldcliff Lagoons on the Gwent Levels near Newport. Now, I am not a big fan of Goldcliff, I find it difficult to bird, the subjects always seem to be distant, and hard to observe because of vegetation impeding the views. But I have seen some good birds there, a Citrine Wagtail and Lesser Yellowlegs in recent years. It always seems to rain there as well, everywhere on the River Severn estuary gets a lot of precipitation. But the site is only a couple of hours drive from home so after seeing the original report of the bird on Friday, I made plans for an attempt on the Saturday. Those plans were abandoned though when the Sandpiper was seen to fly off strongly towards the sea mid-morning on Friday and it wasn't seen to return.

With no further reports of the Baird's Sandpiper, we decided to take a stroll around our local RSPB reserve at Otmoor, primarily to see if we could get a better view of the two celebrity Marsh Harrier fledglings. They have been afforded star status because both have a large amount of white feathers so are very striking looking birds. The white feathers are thought to be a result of poor diet while the birds were young when, to compensate for the lack of food, their bodies completely stopped producing melanin (the substance that makes dark pigment). Interestingly the full brood featured two normally plumaged young as well.

We didn't get any improved views of the funky Harrier twins but left the Moor happy after enjoying a bit of a social and we did see some nice birds whilst there. As we neared the carpark I noticed a report that the Baird's Sandpiper had been reported at Goldcliff Lagoons again. The report had been from quite early in the morning but I'd not checked my phone whilst being on Otmoor. A more recent report said that the Sandpiper had relocated to the mud of the estuary and was showing well from the seawall close to Goldcliff Point just half a mile or so from the Lagoons. We went home to grab lunch but once eaten thought that we should make the effort and get to South Wales pronto!

While we'd been at home the Baird's Sandpiper had flown back to the reserve but had flown off again just as we cleared the town and hit the A34 south. And that was where the day unravelled. Predictably the A34 south of the M40 was jammed. It always is. Usually though the traffic eases as you travel southwards. Usually it does, but not on this Saturday. Half an hour later we had reached Kidlington, three miles further on. It took another twenty minutes to get to Peartree on the outskirts of Oxford, and with no hint of the traffic jam easing, I turned off and decided to leave it and to monitor the reports for the rest of the day, earmarking an attempt for the following morning.

Our friends Spadge & Bryan made it to Newport and connected with the Sandpiper that day but it had again transferred back to the reserve and their views were distant. Photos of the bird emerged online, and those taken when the bird was feeding off the point looked pretty good. My friend Steve, who lives close to Goldcliff, kept me well informed of where the Baird's had been throughout the day. We would leave early on the Sunday morning and hope that the bird was showing on the mud off the seawall.

We arrived at Newport by eight after a traffic free and easy drive, Saturday and Sunday mornings are the only quiet times to travel in Britain these days. Typically there had been no reports of the Baird's Sandpiper and I was castigating myself for not keeping going the day before. He who hesitates, generally loses. There was an amazing number of other cars parked up already, obviously a lot of local folk had never seen a Baird's Sandpiper either. We parked and spoke to a chap who had been into the reserve and he related the negative news and the fact that up to forty birders had been on site since first light. With nothing to go on, I decided that we may as well walk into the lagoons anyway even though I knew that it'd be a waste of time. After the several disappointing twitches recently, another one was almost too much to take, and my spirits hit rock bottom. I trudged to the Greenshank hide and could hardly be bothered to join the throng inside. All we could see was a flock of twenty Lapwing, a few Dunlin and a couple of Little Egrets. To top it all off, it predictably began raining. It would have been disappointing if it hadn't.

We returned to the car, and in a rare moment of inspiration, I thought that we may as well check out the seawall area where the Sandpiper had been seen so well the day before. It was only half mile away from where we were anyway. We parked and walked up to the embankment. The tide was in and lapping up against the rocks of the walls so there was no exposed mud for wading birds to feed on. However, I knew that the tide would turn soon and that the mud so cherished by many wading birds, would be revealed. We noticed around ten other birders were lined up across the path about two hundred yards away. They were all looking intently at a specific section of the rocky foreshore. I checked the rocks out through my scope and could see a huddle of small birds sheltering there. Could the Baird's be there?

With more hope now, we quickened our steps and neared the other birders. As I suspected, my good friends Kev & Karen were part of the group and Dean & Karen were also there. I always rib Kev about what a lucky birder he is so seeing him there raised my spirits up again. The whole group were completely strung out across the path so we stood ten yards behind and aimed my own scope at the group of waders on the rocks. I noted Ringed Plovers, Dunlin, and Turnstones but couldn't see anything smaller. For ten minutes not much happened although it was clear that the tide had turned, and the birds were becoming restless. Then a flock of Dunlin exploded out of their collective roosting spots. I'd only noticed about ten before but now there were well over fifty. I took a few quick shots of the wheeling flock but I couldn't spot the Baird's amongst them.

Dunlin

Birds began dropping onto the mud that was slowly appearing as the tide leaked out. First the Turnstones took to it followed by some Dunlin and later by a few of the Ringed Plovers. Suddenly I found myself mouthing, 'It's there!', and 'Running away from us'. Mainly to Mrs Caley of course because the others were probably out of earshot. I got Mrs Caley onto the Baird's Sandpiper just as the voices rose in the advance group, they had also clocked the target bird.

Baird's Sandpiper (left)

The Baird's Sandpiper, bird number #430 on my UK life list, was noticeably smaller than the Dunlin. Even at the distance of around fifty yards away, it appeared much lighter coloured with an unmarked clean white belly. It most resembled a small Sanderling and it moved energetically across the mud, always keeping distance between itself and the other birds. The shorter bill, attenuated shape and squat body made it much easier to identify and separate from the Dunlin, than I had previously imagined. The Baird's must have been secreted within the rocks and like the other birds, had been waiting for the tide to go out before it could feed.

Now the bird had been found, I caught up with my good luck charm, Kev, and we set about, along with the others, creeping forward so that we could get some better views. The flock was still a bit nervy though, and were often put up by waves that still lapped at the rocks. They always returned to almost the same spot since that was the only place that the water drained off. On one occasion I managed to capture a few record shots of the Baird's Sandpiper as it launched into flight.

With more mud being exposed with every ebbing wave, the flock of birds were scuttling towards us and it wasn't long before the Baird's Sandpiper presented itself directly underneath us. The seawall path was a good twenty feet above the mud so views were from directly above but now the Sandpiper was so close it hardly mattered. I laid flat on the ground to lessen the drop down to the bird. Baird's Sandpiper have flattened, oval shaped bodies which is most noticeable when seen head on or from behind. I've heard them called the "Weetabix bird" in reference to the flat oval shaped breakfast cereal which is also similarly coloured.

The Baird's Sandpiper fed voraciously now there was mud to probe in. The items of prey were very small, worms, gnats and other tiny morsels were all taken. The power of the modern camera and lenses, enable some of these tiny food items to be seen in the tweezer type bill of the bird.

The views now were nothing short of sensational. It felt good to actually connect with a good bird again after our pretty shoddy run of late. But then I'm always feeling hard done by and pretend that I don't have the luck that some of my peers seem to have. If I reflect on the year so far, I've actually seen every lifer that I've gone for so far, the Baird's being my seventh addition of 2024 to my life list. What was really good with this bird was gaining as many photos as I wanted for a change. It was the first prolonged photo session in a while and I took as many as I wanted to.

A newly arrived birder almost trod on me, I was still laying prone on the seawall, then settled down alongside me. I turned and stared my good mate Jim (The Standlake Birder) in the eye. I had wondered when he'd turn up. Jim and I often need the same bird for our lists so bump into each other quite often at major twitches. Now I knew why the Baird's Sandpiper was showing so well. Not for me but for Lucky Jim!

We took photos as we chatted, the benefit of having silent shutters on our not-so-new-now fangled mirrorless cameras. As we talked, we got around to discussing what "obvious" bird that's missing from our lists that we'd like to see next. After all, the fairy godmother of bird-giving had produced after my chat with Nick, Rob & Thomas the week before. Jim wanted a Terek Sandpiper (pretty rare that one), I voted for a Broad-billed Sandpiper (much less rare). Fingers crossed for either later on in the autumn.

After taking a few hundred photos, which were all becoming pretty much the same, of the Baird's Sandpiper on the flat wet mud with only its own footprints or the odd fragment of vegetation to add interest, I gave up, especially when the bird began to drift further out. We'd had the best of it.

Just to get our year back on track, we drove to Westhay Moor in the hope of seeing some Bearded Tits. The increasing wind put paid to that though. It's now been a couple of years since we had good views of the species. A Water Rail hopping across the path was the only sighting of note.

Year List addition;

245) Baird's Sandpiper