Filling in some gaps :: 26 January 2026

I was recently enjoying a lovely time with friends over a weekend, celebrating one of their birthdays. This left Kev free for the weekend, and with his wife away, he headed down to Cornwall to go birding with his sister Karen and her partner Dean, later visiting RSPB Ham Wall. He managed to tick quite a few birds, some we’ve since encountered on our travels, but he also added further species with his wife in Hampshire when they went to see the killdeer.

There are therefore a couple of species that might normally require a special trip, but Kev already has them on his year list. This isn’t usually a problem, as Kev graciously revisits several birds he’s already seen just so I can add them to my year or life list.

Today, I decided it would be a good idea to knock a couple off the list in advance, avoiding the need for extra trips and leaving us free to search for new species for both of us, rather than just me. So, I focused on the American wigeon at Ferry Meadows CP and the two long-staying Slavonian grebes at Whitemoor Haye.

I had a specific plan, so there was no need to be out at the crack of dawn. I waited until my wife was getting up to go play pickleball, still quite early, before setting off. The drive was smooth, and I arrived at Ferry Meadows CP, passing through the camera-controlled (license-recognition) barrier. I made my way to the furthest car park and used the facilities before returning to the car. A birder and his wife were just setting off, and he briefly asked if I was there for the wigeon. He suggested the most likely spot to see it was where the pin-drop on BirdGuides indicated. As they left, I jokingly remarked that it would be nice if they could locate it by the time I arrived.

In the UK the American wigeon is considered a rare but regular vagrant. It doesn’t breed here but individuals are occasionally recorded, especially in autumn and winter. It used to be treated as a rarity deserving formal review, but because of increasing records it is no longer classed as a British Birds Rarity Committee (BBRC) rarity. These ducks normally breed in boreal and sub‑arctic North America and winter across the southern USA and Mexico. Birds that appear in the UK are believed to arrive as a result of trans‑Atlantic vagrancy, often aided by strong westerly winds or weather systems that push them off course during migration.

I walked to the viewpoint to find the couple and another birder scanning the water - a slightly worrying sight, as they were looking in different directions. The lone birder explained that no one had seen the bird yet and that he had spoken to several others who had been searching since early morning - it hadn’t been found. I joined the search, but things didn’t look promising. We worked through the various ducks and geese on and around the water and passed a great white egret standing on the point to our right. It was delightful to watch a group of eight little grebes diving along the edges of the reeds. There were also plenty of common gulls, and I spotted one cormorant of the "Sinensis" sub-species, also known as the “Continental” form due to it being common inland across Europe.

Time passed with no sightings. The couple eventually decided they’d had enough and went to the Centre for a cup of coffee. The other birder, who had already been to Fen Drayton to see a smew, concluded that our luck had run out. I stayed on, continuing to scan the banks. American wigeons are dabbling ducks, feeding mostly at the surface of shallow water rather than diving. Even when actively feeding in the morning, many wigeons rest on banks or grassy areas near water, often tucking their heads under their wings. What worried me was that there were only a handful of Eurasian wigeon on the water, and none were visible on the banks. The footpath around Gunwade Lake runs quite close to the water’s edge, so opportunities for them out of the water were limited.

I waited and noticed a birder on the opposite side of the lake checking his phone. Deciding to do the same, I saw a report on BirdGuides confirming the American visitor just a minute before but in a completely different location, on the far side of Overton Lake in the marshes. I packed up and began making my way to the new area. Along the way, three birders approached and said, “You know what we’re going to ask you, right?” I explained about the update and hurried on, checking the route as I went. The site was new to me, and I didn’t even know the marsh area existed or how to access it.

After a 15–20 minute walk, I reached the viewing platform and arrived with the couple I had met earlier - they were very glad they had stopped for a coffee. Within a minute, we located the American wigeon among its Eurasian cousins and numerous teal. This was a much better location for the bird to feed. As we watched, it cruised along, feeding, gradually moving further away. Eventually it reached the far end of the visible water, and I decided I had been fortunate and had waited patiently. It was time to move on.

I had planned a trip across to Whitemoor Hays, but noted that Eyebrook Reservoir was roughly on the way and decided to make a detour, as up to eight smew had been recorded there lately. I set off, but the journey seemed to take longer than expected given the relatively short as-the-crow-flies distance.

On arrival, I made my way down toward the bay the smew favour each winter, passing through a large pool of water covering the road. As I neared the spot where I planned to park, I came across a couple, both carrying birding gear, walking the other way. I nodded to them, thinking they were relocating to the spot likely to give the best view of the birds. I quickly parked the car in the mud beside the road and checked the opposite side of the island before following them down to the gap in the hedge cut to allow viewing of the bay. While there had been a report of eight smew from this spot earlier in the morning, there were none now - really disappointing.

The couple had moved further along the road, and I followed, hoping for a wider view of the water. When I reached them, they explained that the only smew they had located was on the far side of the water and only visible from where we stood. It was just about visible in the scope but extremely difficult to photograph - I tried anyway. How unlucky was that? Eight birds earlier, and now a single drake at extreme distance.

It was bitterly cold standing there, so the three of us walked back up the road toward the cars. On the way out, I stopped at each pull-in, hoping to locate any others, but had no luck.

It was still quite a drive to my next venue, and I hoped the murky conditions wouldn’t limit my chances of seeing the birds. I needn’t have worried, as the sky seemed to brighten slightly as I got closer. I drove down the last stretch of road to a pull-in where I could turn around and then return to the spot that offered the best view of the Roadside Pit, where the long-staying Slavonian grebes had been recorded since 12 December. As I pulled up, I waved to a chap who was heading back to his car - he must have been checking out the surrounding area.

I jumped out and learned that he hadn’t located any grebes, which was a bit annoying, but I set up my scope and began scanning. I asked him about any merlin, and again he hadn’t seen one.

I lifted my binoculars and scanned the field behind where merlins are sometimes reported, and there it was: a female, sitting in the field. I pointed it out to him, and he managed to get on it, agreeing with my ID. I spun round my scope and reached for my camera to take a few record shots; it was at some distance, and the light was starting to fade. He expressed his gratitude, saying he wouldn’t have seen it without my help.

The merlin is the UK’s smallest falcon, a compact, fast, and agile bird of prey that chase small birds low over the ground at high speed, often surprising prey with sudden bursts of flight. In autumn and winter, the resident population is augmented by migrants, especially from Iceland, so numbers increase in the UK during the colder months. Many of our resident birds breed on upland moorlands (Scotland, northern England, and Wales) move to lower ground, coastal marshes and farmland in winter.

With the excitement over, we turned our attention to locating the Slavonian grebes. After about ten minutes, we spotted one, cruising gracefully among the ducks. At first it stayed in the middle of the pool, but eventually it worked its way to our end, offering a much better viewing position. I managed a few record shots at a distance before packing up my kit for the journey home. All in all, it had been a very successful day of birding.

Year list: 142.

Hampshire return, then into Gloucestershire :: 23/24 January 2026

A first-winter killdeer was initially recorded in the UK on 5 November, when it was discovered on Skokholm/Skomer in Pembrokeshire, where it remained for a couple of days. The bird then relocated to South Slob, County Wexford, being present there from 27 November until 2 December. After a prolonged absence with no confirmed reports, the killdeer reappeared on 21 January at Ripley Farm Reservoir - after talking it over with Kev @kev07713, it was clear I couldn’t get there the following day, so he would head over with his wife Karen, while I hoped to make some time on Friday despite already having evening plans in Birmingham. They were successful in seeing the bird, as were our friends Bryan Manston and Adrian Sparrowhawk.

The killdeer is noticeably larger than a ringed plover and is instantly recognisable by its bold double breast band, and with a more upright stance. It has a distinctive rufous rump and upper tail, a feature that contrasts strongly with the darker central tail band and white tail sides. This warm, rusty-toned rump is particularly striking when the bird takes to the sky, or relocates short distances around the reservoir, and is a useful identification feature at range. Combined with the long, pointed wings and bold wing pattern, the rufous rump adds to the species’ unmistakable appearance in flight.

It is an exceptional vagrant to the UK and Ireland, with its normal range extending across much of North America, from southern Canada through the United States and into Central America. As a result, any appearance on this side of the Atlantic is considered a major event.

Records in the UK are extremely scarce, with most involving autumn or winter birds thought to have crossed the Atlantic on strong westerly systems. Many of these records relate to first-winter individuals, which are more prone to long-distance displacement. Sightings are often brief, although on rare occasions birds have lingered long enough to allow multiple observers to connect.

When present, killdeer typically favour open, muddy margins, reservoirs, coastal lagoons, and flooded fields, behaving much as they do in their native range by feeding actively and making short, rapid runs. Their striking plumage, particularly the double breast bands and bold facial pattern, makes them distinctive even among similar plovers. Sightings are generally short-lived, so visiting doesn’t guarantee seeing the bird - timing and luck are critical.

With reports of a scheduled shooting event on Saturday, visitors hoping to see the killdeer were eager to get views before any potential disturbance. I left home at 5.30am, aiming to arrive and walk the track to the reservoir by 8.00am. The forecast was mixed - I encountered rain on the journey, but it was dry on arrival, though I dressed expecting showers at some point.

As I set off from the car, I met a fellow birder, Lloyd, who had come down from Nottingham; this would be a lifer for him as well. We chatted along the track, which made the 15–20 minute walk pass quickly. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any birders coming the other way, suggesting the killdeer was still present.

We arrived to find a couple of dozen birders already gathered, all focused on the killdeer. One kindly shared a rough location, and before long we had our scopes trained and were on the bird. At first, it was just over the edge of the grass, with only its head visible, but it was easy to pick out, positioned just to the left of a small group of lapwings. Gradually, the killdeer moved fully onto the grass, feeding and running around, giving excellent views for everyone although very distant. I posted that I’d seen the bird on our friends’ Birding WhatsApp group and soon heard that a couple of others were about 30 minutes away - with the 20-minute walk from the car, that meant they would likely be joining me in around an hour. In the meantime, the killdeer preened and settled slightly out of view, giving only glimpses to those watching.

My friends arrived, and we watched the killdeer for about 10 minutes before it suddenly took to the air, heading west and high, accompanied by three lapwings. For a moment, there was concern that it might have gone for good, but word soon spread that it had done this before and would likely return. With good views already in the bag, we began to pack up, only to be interrupted when a white-tailed eagle was spotted at a great distance, gliding along the tops of the trees. Our views were fleeting, and within seconds the eagle dropped from sight before I had a chance to photograph it.

As expected, the killdeer returned after about 10 minutes, and the sun broke through the clouds. This seemed like a perfect opportunity for better photos, but with the sun directly behind the bird, it was mostly silhouetted. I took a couple of shots but decided there was little advantage in staying longer. As we started to leave, we paused briefly when a little gull was spotted on the far left of the reservoir.

I was in Birmingham at a show, simultaneously messaging with Kev about the possibility of a birding trip on Saturday morning. As has become almost a routine lately, the forecast was for wet and changeable conditions throughout the day, so we considered options that would give us a satisfying day out while remaining flexible to the weather. Eventually, we settled on meeting at 6.45am and heading into the Cotswolds to check out a finch flock that might include bramblings, a species neither of us had seen yet this year.

We arrived just as light was breaking, the first soft glow illuminating the fields. A few finches were already visible, and we were delighted to spot our first corn bunting of the year, perched quietly in a tree nearby. After about 15 minutes, the finches began dropping to the track where some seed had been scattered, feeding briefly before quickly moving off again. The flock grew larger and returned intermittently, though they remained very skittish despite our efforts to stay still and unobtrusive.

The flock was a limited mix of species: mainly chaffinches, a few corn buntings, and quite a few striking bramblings with their warm, rufous tones. Occasional dunnocks flitted among them, while blue tits and great tits added movement and colour to the scene. Watching the birds in the morning light, with the quiet Cotswold landscape around us, it was a wonderfully rewarding start to the day and even before the rain threatened to arrive.

With views secured, we decided it was time to move on to WWT Slimbridge, where a few interesting reports had been made and several potential species awaited that could be added to our year list. An added advantage of the site was the network of hides scattered throughout, offering shelter should the weather take a turn for the worse.

We arrived early and entered via the Members’ gate, as it was still before opening time, then made our way towards the Zeiss and Kingfisher hides. A flock of birds caught our attention, and we paused to watch for them dropping in, but they initially wheeled away and disappeared from view. The calls suggested they were entirely, or at least largely, siskins.

It wasn’t long before the flock reappeared and eventually settled in an alder tree to feed. We carefully scanned through the siskins, hoping to pick out a lesser redpoll, but none could be found.

Off to our right, an unexpected sight drew our attention: a great white egret perched high in the branches of a nearby tree. While it’s fairly common to see little or cattle Egrets roosting high like this, it’s behaviour we’ve rarely encountered in great whites. On reflection, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

We left the area around the wildfowl collections and passed through the first gate into the trees, pausing to check whether a water rail might be feeding in a spot where we’d seen one on a recent visit - still missing from our year lists, and once again not obliging.

As we continued on, a treecreeper suddenly popped into view ahead of Kev. I stopped in the hope of grabbing a photo, while Kev carried on towards the Kingfisher Hide. A warden with a camera paused alongside me, clearly with the same idea in mind.

I caught up with Kev in the Kingfisher Hide, where he’d been scanning the surrounding fields and trees for anything unusual, though without success so far. I joined him but drew a blank as well. Looking back down the field we’d walked parallel to earlier, I eventually picked out a single white-fronted goose among the Canada geese. There were also two obvious farmyard geese present, which I’m confident are long-stayers, having previously served as useful markers when viewing two pink-footed geese earlier in the month.

Kev then moved over to the window overlooking the feeders in the tree, following a warden’s tip that a great spotted woodpecker had visited earlier. He quickly called me over after noticing movement in the stream below - a water rail. It slipped out of view before I reached the window, but around 30 seconds later it reappeared, walking across and then down the stream. It was a very welcome sighting, and one we’re always pleased to enjoy, given how secretive this species is and how rarely it shows itself, especially when calling.

With no further birds of note, we moved back down to the Van de Bovenkamp Hide and began scanning from there, working through the geese ahead of us and to our right, all at some distance. Kev suddenly stopped and said he had a juvenile peregrine in his view at 12 o'clock and within seconds I had it in my binoculars and camera. The bird was hunting through the geese, presumably looking for an opportunity, perhaps a lapwing breaking from cover.

Peregrines are often seen hunting over flooded fields and along the estuary margins, sometimes from high vantage points such as the Estuary Tower. Most encounters involve a bird powering low and fast over flocks of dunlin, lapwing, teal or wigeon, with any attack over in seconds, a sudden sweep that can cause mass panic even if there is no kill. Even without striking, their presence creates instant chaos: lapwings lift en masse, wader flocks tighten, and geese become visibly edgy.

On this occasion no attack followed, and the peregrine eventually flew onto the face of the ridge, disappearing over the far side and out of view.

Returning to the geese, Kev picked out a group of three and then a further five tundra bean geese feeding among the Canada, barnacle and greylags. There are still good numbers around and we’ve been fortunate to catch up with them at several sites this winter. Although distant, they showed well through the scope and confirmed that they weren’t accompanied by the two pink-footed geese we’d seen on our previous visit.

Tight against the hide window, I heard the calls of common cranes moments before they came into view - first two birds, then the group swelling to nine. Common Cranes are very often seen in groups/multiples of three because that’s the classic family unit: two adults (a bonded pair) and one juvenile (occasionally two, but often only one survives the first year). Juveniles stay with their parents for 10–12 months, migrating and wintering with them, so through autumn and winter you’ll frequently see tight groups of three feeding and moving together.

We moved on to the Zeiss Hide and took in the views across the grasses and reeds but added nothing further of note. Despite Heather England’s regular postings of bittern photos, our luck didn’t extend that far. In the pool to our left, however, we watched another great white egret slowly stalking the water’s edge.

We retired to the Visitor Centre for a breakfast roll before packing up and heading on to Burnham-on-Sea, hoping to catch up with the wintering German Kentish plover, a bird that has become a regular in recent years. We’d left it a little late and the water level wasn’t on our side, still falling towards low tide; we always feel that arriving an hour or two on a rising high tide gives the best chance.

We arrived in a light drizzle and chatted with another birder who had been earlier in the morning and hadn’t seen the plover but had returned for another look. He headed off to park, and we didn’t see him again. Scanning the beach, we picked up oystercatchers, dunlin, avocets, curlew, a single ringed plover and a grey plover, and as we worked along the esplanade it was largely these species that continued to turn up.

We also began scanning Stert Island, off Burnham-on-Sea, a low-lying tidal island at the mouth of the River Parrett in Bridgwater Bay; largely saltmarsh and mudflat and regularly cut off at high tide, but often holding good numbers of waders. At first I assumed the largest flock was dunlin, but Kev pointed out that while Dunlin formed the leading edge, the birds behind were knot, with a few grey plovers mixed in.

The rain grew heavier as we worked our way along much of the beach normally favoured by the Kentish plover. Realising we weren’t going to find it, we decided to call it a day. On the way back, we considered a stop at Oldbury Power Station, but with the rain still falling, we opted to give it a miss.

Year list: 138.

Hampshire day-out :: 20 January 2026

When unsure where to go, Kev and I usually find ourselves choosing between RSPB Frampton Marsh and the Hampshire & Isle of Wight Wildlife Trust’s Lymington & Keyhaven Marshes Nature Reserve. With rain forecast to clear from the southwest, we opted for our first visit to Lymington of 2026. It certainly won’t be our last, as we often return after the spring migration to catch up with little terns and a host of other species.

Keyhaven Marshes form part of an extensive coastal wetland and nature reserve stretching between the mouth of the Lymington River and the village of Keyhaven on Hampshire’s Solent coast. The landscape is a rich mosaic of saltmarsh, intertidal mudflats, lagoons, grazing marsh and shingle banks. At this time of year, the area supports large flocks of Brent geese, wigeon, teal, pintail, grey plover, dunlin, black-tailed godwit and a wide variety of other wildfowl and waders, many of which can be observed from the Normandy Lagoon.

Although access across the marshes themselves is restricted to avoid disturbing the birds, a network of sea wall paths and footpaths provides excellent views across the reserve. The sea wall linking Keyhaven and Lymington offers a flat, scenic walk, with sweeping views across the flats towards Hurst Spit and the Isle of Wight.

We arrived at our usual parking spot and made our way towards the Keyhaven Lagoon, with curlews calling overhead and Brent geese feeding in fields through flocks of curlews, Canada geese, teal, and black-tailed godwits. Climbing up onto the sea wall, we were met by a stiff wind; although steady at around 25 mph, the gusts were stronger still, making it feel far colder than the 8°C shown on the car’s display. Deciding against standing in the full force of it, we dropped down to the lower path for some shelter and scanned across the lagoon, soon focusing on the 19 spoonbills exhibiting their usual behaviour ... fast asleep.

At their feet were small groups of avocets, with both species being welcome year ticks. Recent bird records show that spoonbills are now regular visitors to the Lymington–Keyhaven Marshes, particularly during winter and migration periods, and are increasingly occurring in small flocks rather than as lone birds. Counts of up to c.19 spoonbills have been reported at Normandy Marsh, matching our observation.

Spoonbills are now a regular presence from late autumn through winter and into early spring, taking advantage of the shallow feeding habitats of the Normandy Marsh and Lagoon, as well as the adjacent lagoons. A couple of avocets had broken away from the main group and were feeding quietly in the shallows.

We stopped to chat with a local Hampshire birder, who shared details of the species he had encountered during his visit. He confirmed that activity out on the edge of the Solent was reduced, as the tide was close to its peak, pushing many birds back towards the lagoons. This was evident in the numbers of dunlin and ringed plovers gathered on the islands and along the water’s edge.

The conversation proved fortuitous, as we picked up some valuable local knowledge, including information on purple sandpipers and, more importantly, a potential roost site for hawfinches. Coincidentally, Kev and I had been discussing where we might catch up with this species, as our usual local flock appears to have moved on and has been absent for the past couple of winters.

We worked our way round to the southern edge and soon located one of the two reported spotted redshanks, perched at the water’s edge. Within a minute or two it dropped into the lagoon and began swimming across towards another feeding wader. At first, I assumed it was the second spotted redshank, but it soon became clear that the bird was a greenshank. As the redshank swam across, Kev commented that it would make a great photo - I was already on the case - before he remembered that he was carrying a camera too and joined in. Hilarious!

Spotted redshanks are a regular but generally scarce part of the winter and migration bird community here and they’re reliable enough that birders often look for them here in the colder months. In Britain, they are primarily a passage migrant in spring and autumn, with small numbers overwintering at key wetlands, estuaries and coastal marshes and are usually encountered singly or in small groups, rather than large flocks.

Out in the lagoon, increasing numbers of dunlin and ringed plovers gathered, mainly among the lapwings. A small group of ringed plovers in particular caught the eye as they formed a tight cluster beside a tile on a small, raised island. Adding to the wader numbers were oystercatchers, their numbers gradually building as time passed.

Kev had been on a trip down into Cornwall and back through Somerset at the weekend and had sharpened his gull identification, calling a Mediterranean gull as it passed behind us and out onto the Solent. These gulls are regularly present around here in winter, although they’re more often associated with spring and summer breeding gatherings - scarce but regular in winter, with records often in single‑figure counts at these coastal sites. In winter plumage, Mediterranean gulls lose the full black hood seen in summer but still show a distinctive darker mask behind the eye, pinkish legs and a slightly stouter bill than black‑headed gulls.

We continued along the path when, suddenly, a bird flicked from the gorse back into cover. From its colouring, it could only be one species, a Dartford warbler. While Dartford warblers are regularly recorded around the Nature Reserve, they aren’t core marsh birds like waders. Instead, they favour the scrubby, gorse‑rich higher ground and coastal scrub surrounding the reserve. Preferring gorse, bramble, and other scrubby vegetation rather than open saltmarsh, they are usually found on the landward side of the site, where scrub grows on higher ground or rough pasture. It was therefore a pleasant surprise to encounter one between the edge of the lagoon and the Solent. I waited patiently, and after a couple of relocations, it popped out long enough for me to snap a few photos.

We had just remarked that we would normally have seen some stonechats by this point when a pair suddenly appeared ahead along the path. They moved frequently between the ground and prominent perches, with the female eventually drifting further away while the male stayed closer, giving excellent views.

We had heard reports of Slavonian grebes along the stretch where Pennington Marsh meets the sea, near the jetty, so we made our way there. Scanning the area, we spotted the same species, as already recorded, in the lagoons on the landward side of the coastal sea wall, along with another Mediterranean gull and at least 50 golden plovers. There had been a report of a merlin perched on a post feeding on prey, but we never encountered it; however, we did locate a kestrel and a female‑type cream‑crowned marsh harrier. Reaching the sea wall proved challenging, as the wind was so strong that both Kev and I lost our hats, chasing them down the slope, and we were left worrying that the scopes might be blown over. After a few minutes of scanning, we found six red‑breasted mergansers, but there was nothing else to hold us, and no sign of the grebes.

We then relocated in an attempt to connect with purple sandpipers, but this quickly became a “twitching drive-by” as the wind continued to strengthen. We abandoned the idea and while sightings would have been welcome, it would have been no fun standing in that wind. After a brief discussion, we set off again, heading for the site where a hawfinch roost had been reported. Conveniently, it was on the way home and only about twenty minutes from where we were parked.

Hawfinches gather at communal roost sites, often perching in the ornamental conifers here where they can be observed by birders. Survey data shows that hundreds may be present at these roosts - for example, around 353 hawfinches across 35 roosts were recorded in early 2024. These birds are elusive and quiet year‑round, often perched high in the canopy and difficult to see during the breeding season. In winter, however, they become more visible in the leafless trees, with their numbers often bolstered by continental migrants arriving from northern Europe.

We parked and followed the path suggested by the local birder earlier. Along the way, we came across a couple of treecreepers and nuthatches and were soon joined by another local birder carrying binoculars and a camera - he knew the area well and could advise us on which spots to focus on. Our wait began, with marsh tits calling in the trees behind us. Kev spotted a mash tit in a nearby tree, but before I could get on it, it flew out of view - I’d try again later. I thought I glimpsed a hawfinch overhead, but it disappeared into the trees and I couldn’t relocate it. Eventually, I strolled further down the track to see if a different angle would give a better view, leaving Kev and the other birder watching the favoured trees.

After a couple of minutes, I heard a whistle - it was Kev letting me know that hawfinches had dropped into the favoured tree and I hurried back, making out four birds through the branches. They quickly moved to a tree on the right, and I followed, searching for a better line of sight. Kev later told me that he thinks we had nine hawfinches in total and has video showing five of them together in a single frame.

Eventually, the hawfinches had moved to an area to the right of where they had first appeared. With the trees still swaying in the wind, the birds were revealed only intermittently, teasing glimpses through the branches.

It was now time to add a marsh tit to my year list. We came across at least three, busy foraging around a picnic bench where some food had been left by visitors and in the same area, chaffinches, goldcrests, coal tits, and a single firecrest flitted about, adding to the lively scene.

We had found exactly what we’d come for and were delighted to have had good views of so many of these woodland sprites. Normally, this would have meant adding the firecrest to my year list, but remarkably, this was the third site in three weeks where I had encountered one. Satisfied with our sightings, we packed up and set out for home.

Year list: 127.