Blenheim :: 13 December 2025

With two of the family unwell and tucked up at home, I decided it wouldn’t be fair to share a car with Kev @kev07713 for several hours, potentially passing something on so close to Christmas - although I feel fine and show no signs of having picked anything up from them. I knew he was keen to go to Blashford Lakes, where a white-tailed eagle has been hanging about for the last couple of days, but it felt excessive to take two cars that distance. Instead, I proposed Blenheim for the crossbills and a drake ring-necked duck that had been present on the main lake for several days - although I'd visited recently, Kev hadn't and it promised to deliver good views of crossbills.

We agreed to meet and park, making our way in via the Footpath Entrance on the north side of Woodstock, probably the closest access point to where the crossbills can be found. Parking is restricted to four hours here, so we settled on an 8.30am meet. On the way there, the views were beautiful: the orange glow of the rising sun, blue skies, and mist lying low over the fields - a glorious start to the day. However, there were also patches of thick fog, and I hoped this wouldn’t scupper our visit, though with a good forecast I was confident the sun would burn through the blanket as the morning wore on.

The fog had cleared by the time we arrived and parked in Woodstock, but it gradually reappeared as we reached the footpath gate and climbed towards the plantation where the crossbills have been seen and fed. In places the fog thinned as the sun began to break through, with red kites and buzzards perched in and around the plantation. A fieldfare and mistle thrush called as they departed the plantation.

As we circled the plantation, we first heard and then saw at least 30 crossbills wheeling over the trees, seemingly arriving from the Combe Gate direction. Eventually they settled, though frustratingly towards the back of the plantation, so we continued round to the spot where I’d watched them about ten days earlier. We could hear them calling intermittently from the trees, but they didn’t show on this side. Ravens called from behind us, and one flew past before landing on the statue — the Column of Victory.

In the end we decided to check the far side and there found at least 20 crossbills feeding on the larches, carrying cones up to perch in trees adjacent to the plantation and work on them in the sun, occasionally pausing to preen. They fed like this for around 20 minutes before something spooked them, sending the flock circling out and dropping deeper into the trees, where they were eventually lost from view.

As we waited, a couple of ravens called and flew along the opposite hillside, where they were mobbed by other corvids, briefly coming into clear view before wheeling away and landing obscured behind another copse of trees. Overhead we had calls from siskins.

Eventually we decided to return to the other side of the trees to watch from there. At first there was no sign of the crossbills, but before long a small flock flew up, circled, and dropped back in, mostly out of view. As they settled, another birder arrived and, as he drew closer, I realised it was Michael Enticott - it had been a while. He caught the birds just as they went down.

We waited and chatted until the crossbills began to show again, albeit briefly, before flushing out once more and circling to our left. This time it was the larger flock, numbering around 40 birds, which eventually settled deeper in the larches. More conversation followed, including tales of Michael’s recent holiday in China, before we decided to try the other side of the plantation again. That proved unsuccessful, so we returned to the sunlit side once more.

There we again managed brief views of a handful of birds in flight before a couple more birders arrived, one of them our friend Dave South. Dave was out for a walk with his wife and one of his daughters and had just missed the action. After pausing for a while, we made our way down to Vanbrugh’s Grand Bridge, where a ring-necked duck had been reported, associating with the pochards. We scanned both sides of the bridge, but there was no sign of either the pochards or the ring-necked duck.

A young girl and her father approached and we shared the location of the crossbills; in return, they told us that the ducks had recently been flushed by a boat and that many appeared to have departed, including the pochards. Another birder mentioned that a small number of pochards had landed on the far eastern side of the water before drifting around the corner and out of sight. We went to investigate and found a small gathering of pochards, tufted ducks, coot, mallards and others, but no ring-necked duck - that was a bit unlucky. Returning to the bridge, we scanned again without success, and with time moving on we made one final circuit of the eastern side, again drawing a blank. We reached the cars just in time to avoid a potential parking ticket, and I headed for home.

Inevitably, as I write this entry on Sunday morning, a report has come through confirming that the ring-necked duck is back in place - typical!

Year list: 250.

Dawlish Warren NNR & WWT Slimbridge :: 05 & 06 December 2025

A tern was first recorded at Dawlish Warren on 3 December, initially roosting on a mid‑estuary buoy before moving to another near Cockwood as the tide rose. Later that evening, the sighting was confirmed as a lesser crested tern. The following day, 4 December, the bird remained in the lower estuary, frequently using the yellow wildlife‑refuge buoys and easily visible from both Cockwood and Warren Point. With a significant improvement in the weather, sightings from the Stuart Line Cruises boat were excellent, and Ewan Urquhart @Stormvogel99 shared some particularly striking views of the tern on X (here, or here). Sightings from the shore were more distant but good.

The lesser crested tern breeds around the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean, and parts of the Arabian Peninsula, and in some regions it migrates, wintering along the coasts of East Africa, South Asia, and Southeast Asia. In the UK, it is an extremely rare vagrant, with only nine previous confirmed records. Most sightings have occurred in autumn or early winter, usually in southern England, including Devon, Dorset, Kent, and Sussex. Each appearance tends to draw considerable interest from birders, many of whom recall seeing or “dipping” the species when the last one was confirmed over 10 years ago.

It can be identified by its striking orange bill (unlike the yellow or black‑tipped bills of similar terns), pale grey upperparts, and a smaller, slimmer profile compared with a sandwich tern.

On Thursday afternoon, I contacted Kev @kev07713 to see if he would be working on Friday. He said he’d let me know but hoped to finish his work in time that day and so be free. We thought it might be a good chance to try for this bird, a lifer for both of us, and perhaps avoid the Saturday birding curse. If the tern remained, we could always try on the Saturday if he couldn't get finished. Later that evening, Kev got in touch to say he was free, and that he and his wife Karen could join me on Friday. Having put in a heavy shift all week, we decided on a leisurely start and planned to leave at 6.00am.

We skipped breakfast and headed straight to the Dawlish Warren car park, planning to walk out along the beach and then back up beside the golf course to the hide, where the best views were being reported. It was now after 9.00am, and BirdGuides had listed sightings of the bird over an hour earlier - so unless we were unlucky, we were hopeful. A birder walking back confirmed it had still been present when he left 15–20 minutes earlier.

We continued through the reserve’s fields toward the beach, then followed the shoreline, encountering a strong wind that was forecast to strengthen as the morning went on, with rain expected by mid- to late-morning. When we reached the hide, around ten birders were already set up with scopes, watching the tern on the sand, lined up with a red-and-white boat. An oystercatcher was standing directly in front of it, leaving only the tern’s head and neck visible.

We took a few photos - you never know what might come out. Eventually the oystercatcher shifted, giving us a clear view of the tern at last. From that distance, it was hard to tell whether phone-scoped shots or the camera would produce anything usable; the light was dreadful, and the wind shook the tripod so much that even filming a short video was a challenge. The bird remained motionless for quite some time as the tide gradually ebbed - high tide had been just before 7.00 am, while it was still dark.

Time passed, but eventually the tern lifted off and flew to the right before circling back to work across the estuary, fishing into the wind. We watched it fly, though it never seemed to dive - in fact, we never saw it touch the water as it made a couple of passes. Between these passes we would lose sight of it and wait for it to be relocated. Alan Boddington (@alanbodd) arrived, and after a quick greeting he was soon on the bird too. Within five minutes it drifted further away from us and settled on the sand closer to Cockwood, still just visible through our scopes.

After about ten minutes we decided to pack up and try for the bird from the beach near the pedestrian crossing over the train tracks. A light drizzle had been falling but had thankfully stopped, and it made sense to get the walk back to the car done while it was dry. As it turned out, the return route was straight into the wind, making the push back to the car an effort.

Back at the car we packed up, and as we were about to leave, we bumped into Jim Hutchins (@jimhutchins2). He decided to follow us to Cockwood rather than walk the beach while the bird was elsewhere - he could always head back later if needed. We reached the lay-bys and pulled in, taking only binoculars and cameras at first as the rain, right on cue, had begun to fall. After crossing the tracks, the watchers already on the beach confirmed that the bird was no longer in view - it had moved on again.

With the rain intensifying, Karen headed back to the car while Kev and I collected our scopes and set them up. I stayed at the foot of the steps to scan, while Kev moved down the beach with Jim. After five or ten minutes, Jim began climbing back up to return his camera to the car - by now we were standing in a full downpour. As he reached the top of the steps, Kev suddenly shouted that he had the bird. Jim couldn’t hear him over the wind and rain, so I called him back, and we all hurried down the beach to where Kev was positioned.

There was our bird, working along the line of boats off Dawlish Warren. We watched it follow the same fishing pattern as before, still without diving. We lost it a couple of times, but at one point had excellent scope views - even a brief break in the rain - though it didn’t last. Once the rain settled in again and we were all thoroughly soaked, we retreated to the car to join Karen and began the journey home, stopping for lunch along the way.

On Saturday morning, the tern altered its usual behaviour, first appearing briefly on a post at Warren Point before disappearing. After some time, it reappeared to feed at mid-range in the bay, albeit only briefly and without approaching closely. Later, news came through that the bird had moved roughly six miles to a pontoon elsewhere in the estuary, sparking a flurry of birders eager to track it down. Some headed to Cockwood and planned to continue on to Starcross, hoping the tern had relocated there. Despite the chase, its appearances remained fleeting and mid-range, making good views challenging.

After keeping observers guessing for much of the day, the tern finally revealed itself, preening on the beach off Cockwood. The incoming tide gradually moved the tern closer onto a post, allowing our friends Adrian, Bryan, Karen, and Dean to tick the bird and enjoy excellent views. Later, a birder shared some stunning photos on X (here).

Meanwhile, Kev and I decided to visit WWT Slimbridge for a general day’s birding and to catch up with the returning Bewick’s Swans. Twenty-seven had been reported on 1 December, mostly around the Rushy - the lowest returning number on record. We arrived just as the members’ gate opened and set off to see what we could find before the main crowds came in. After a brief stop in the Peng Observatory, we continued to the Rushy Hide, where we scanned the water and watched a fine selection of ducks: mallard, pintail, wigeon, teal, pochard, gadwall, shoveler, tufted ... the Bewick's were there but only about a dozen - the others would be out across the reserve. I took a couple of photos of the Bewick's but also concentrated on the pintails as they are one of my favourites. Again, the forecast was for rain and the light was awful.

I’m not sure why, but I rarely take photos of moorhens - yet when a pair scooted across the water, I suddenly felt compelled to capture the moment.

We left the hide and continued along the path, stopping to check the Tack Piece, where we picked out eight ruff among the redshanks. Out in the field were hundreds of wigeon, with a few golden plovers mixed in for good measure. On the water, hundreds of pintails were gathered - the largest flock of them I’ve ever seen. We scanned through the birds, hoping a kingfisher might drop in, but eventually moved on, pausing to look for the water rail under the feeders - no luck there either. A couple of volunteers asked whether we’d seen or heard the firecrest; we hadn’t, and in truth we hadn’t even known one was around. We worked up and down the stretch they pointed out but could ‘only’ turn up a handful of goldcrests. We paused to photograph a particularly striking teal, its vivid green wingbar creating a beautiful contrast.

Eventually, we reached the Estuary Tower and looked out over the Dumbles. There were plenty of Canada geese, along with significant numbers of Barnacle geese. While scanning, we spotted a lone Ross’s goose - initially asleep, it eventually got up and began feeding alongside the other geese. Further back, a bar-headed goose was pointed out, though it hadn’t been obvious on a couple of earlier passes. Kev also picked out a peregrine perched on a fence, though at quite a considerable distance and impossible to see without a scope - no point in taking a photo. We could also make out a buzzard perched on a distant fence, feeding on what appeared, through the scope, to be the remains of a lapwing.

Although there were plenty of birds about, we couldn’t find anything new, so we headed back toward the Visitor Centre and on to the Zeiss Hide. A couple of people were already inside, and one mentioned that two marsh harriers had just been seen distantly and appeared to have dropped down near a particular bush. We scanned the area and kept watch. After five minutes or so, two crows lifted from that spot and flew across the water carrying carrion. Another five minutes later, a cream-crowned marsh harrier rose up, immediately mobbed by lapwings. At that moment a peregrine appeared beside it, briefly interacting before both birds came under attack. They split, the marsh harrier dropping back out of sight while the peregrine veered left. The peregrine circled the area a couple of times before disappearing as well.

With the excitement over, we stepped out of the hide and began heading toward the Kingfisher Hide, stopping at the screen just beyond the fenced gate. I joked that we might find a water rail here, as we sometimes hear them in this spot. To our surprise, a woman birder/photographer was already leaning against the screen, photographing exactly that - a water rail. It fed near a few moorhens, moving back and forth before drifting away. Once I felt I’d managed a decent photo, we carried on. I suggested that if it kept moving in that direction, we might catch up with it again later from the Van de Bovenkamp Hide.

We’d hoped to catch up with some white-fronted geese, but none were in sight, and the volunteers confirmed that none had been reported that day. There was little else to note from this hide or from the Kingfisher Hide. On our way back, a woman called us over and asked if we could identify a bird opposite the hide - it was our water rail. Just as we’d guessed, it had worked its way along the entire track and was now heading back into the reeds.

We made our way back toward the Visitor Centre and came across a mixed flock of tits - long-tailed, blue, and great - with a couple of goldcrests mixed in. Then, moving quickly among them, was the firecrest we’d searched for earlier. It passed through at speed, and with all the twigs, leaves, and branches, I struggled to keep it in frame; Kev had a bit more success with his shorter lens. I managed a record shot, though not when the bird was out in the open.

The flock moved on and the area soon quietened. We headed back to the Centre for lunch before starting the journey home. The weather had been kinder than the day before, and for once we didn’t need to dry out our gear - almost constantly required on recent weekends. I wonder what will turn up next?

Year list: 250.

Blenheim :: 03 December 2025

Not exactly a blog, but rather a record of my visit to Blenheim to see whether I could catch sight of the crossbills frequenting the stand of mixed fir and larch in the plantation beside the Column of Victory. Gareth Casburn has reported them regularly on the Oxfordshire WhatsApp group, sometimes up to 50 individuals, and in his excellent blog - here.

As he notes, he had been seeing small numbers in the treetops, but by late November a flock of around 50 birds had gathered - in recent days, reports have mentioned between 14 and 25 individuals. Crossbills are irruptive finches, meaning their numbers in a given area fluctuate depending on food availability, mainly conifer seeds (spruce, pine, larch, fir). When a particular woodland has a good seed crop, crossbills can form larger flocks and may stay in an area for weeks or months.

I arrived via the gate by the Black Prince pub, having parked at the top of the hill on the edge of town - parking is free for an hour, or £2 for three hours. I set off straight from the entrance and soon spotted another birder ahead, scanning the trees with binoculars. I wondered if he might be heading for the crossbills - sure enough, he climbed the slope and began examining the stand of firs at the front of the plantation.

By the time I reached the top, he had moved further along, and I followed him to a bend where I eventually caught up - it was Paul Willis, and it quickly realised that we had met before. He’d visited the previous Friday and enjoyed excellent views of the birds in the treetops, though he mentioned that once they moved into the larches, they were much harder to spot, particularly the females. We spotted a couple of people about halfway down the plantation and wondered if they were watching the birds; one of them was standing with a tripod and scope. We started making our way toward them, but they noticed us, packed up the scope, and walked halfway to meet us.

They hadn’t been able to spot any crossbills, only a few tits moving through the trees. We scanned back and forth along the edge of the plantation but saw no signs - Paul moved further along the treeline while I worked my way back to the corner. Just minutes later, I heard Paul call out that he’d found some. I walked over to join them, and Paul pointed out three crossbills - a female and two males perched and feeding right on the trunk of a tall larch. At first, they stayed tight to the trunk, making photography impossible. Soon, a few more crossbills moved through the firs behind, drawing the two males away, while the female switched trees and came closer to the front.

We hung back and watched the birds feeding in the background. Suddenly, they all took flight for no apparent reason, circling above us. We counted around 25 individuals before they settled back onto the firs, though about half landed toward the front and high up - while some of the birds moved around, roughly ten remained fairly still in a single treetop. This was a better photo-opportunity.

Eventually, 12 of the birds took to the air, circled briefly, and then headed off in the Combe Gate direction, leaving the four of us searching once again. I spotted three crossbills at the far end of the plantation and another three closer, though scattered. Paul mentioned that on his previous visit bramblings had been reported by the sunflowers, but when he went to look they had already gone. We went and checked the area finding it completely devoid of finches - completely quiet. Time was passing, so I said my goodbyes and headed back, stopping briefly at the plantation when I spotted a couple of siskins at the top of a fir tree. One last look, and then back to the car to meet my wife for a coffee.

Year list: 248.

Eyebrook Reservoir & Summer Leys :: 29 November 2025

What’s going on with the weather lately? On Friday, I was working in Sheffield and later drove my daughter home from Leeds, where she’d been working. During the journey, I was chatting with Kev @kev07713 about where we might go birding on Saturday. More bands of rain were rolling through, with heavy downpours forecast, so we considered whether we should even bother heading out at all - perhaps we'd take the weekend off? Eventually, we settled on making a trip to Eyebrook Reservoir to try our luck at finding the American wigeon reported there recently. We agreed to delay setting off until first light so we could gauge the weather, and after a quick WhatsApp exchange, we were on the road by 8.30am.

When we arrived, it was still raining, so we scanned the water from the Stoke Dry End, staying in the car and wiping the inside of the door as the rain blew in. From there, we watched a variety of gulls: black-headed, common, and lesser black-backed - along with lapwings gathered on the spit. We then spotted one golden plover, followed shortly by two more. On the distant hillside, three hares, a few pheasants, and two greylag geese were visible, and perched in a tree by the water’s edge were two rather bedraggled red kites. The reservoir held plenty of ducks, and we noted tufted ducks, wigeon, teal, great crested grebes, and coot, with seven pintails flying overhead.

As we made our way along the perimeter road, we encountered another birder coming from the opposite direction. He told us the American wigeon had just been reported on Rare Bird Alert (RBA) near “The Island”, a well-known spot for scarce visitors and where the bird was seen the day before - nothing on BirdGuides though. With the bird having moved around the reservoir recently, no area could be ruled out. We headed to "The Island" and scanned toward The Point and along the shoreline and bay to "Sam’s Dyke" but saw nothing unusual, other than a couple of Egyptian geese. Thinking it might be in “Mucky Bay” on the far side of the island, we began moving in that direction. We were joined by the birder we’d spoken to and another who had arrived from the other direction. Both were puzzled about who had reported the sighting, as they believed they’d been the only people on site for over an hour and a half. We scanned "Mucky Bay" but found only the same species as before, along with two drake red-crested pochards and a single female.

I kept scanning the area while Kev doubled back along the road. The other two birders headed in the opposite direction, giving us coverage along the shoreline. After a good twenty minutes, I checked BirdGuides and saw that the American wigeon had been reported further along the road toward "Sam’s Dyke", the direction the other two had gone; perhaps they’d located it. I called Kev to say I was heading that way, and he said he'd follow.

When I caught up with the two birders, they confirmed they hadn’t posted the sighting and were again puzzled about who had. The location on BirdGuides also differed from the earlier RBA report, suggesting it hadn’t simply been copied across. We began scanning the area.

We picked out a bird on the bank with a noticeably different head pattern, although it was only clear when the light caught it just right - a broad cream crown and cheek, crossed by a sweeping green stripe through the eye. It stood out, but viewing it in such poor light was challenging, even through the scope. Further down the shoreline was a larger group of ducks with numerous wigeon, but they were too distant, and the conditions made it impossible to work through them properly, even with our scopes.

We continued to track the bird as it moved along the shoreline feeding with other wigeon, until the entire group was flushed onto the water by an unseen adversary. We hoped the bird might be our target, but Kev was never convinced - it was a strange individual - the full detail only became clear when I could brighten the photos at home.

The two species readily hybridise, and wild hybrids between American and Eurasian wigeon have been recorded. Some hybrids approximate “American-type” more than “Eurasian-type”; others lean toward Eurasian - studies of 21 hybrid males showed 11 different appearance variants. Because of all this, many of the “American Wigeon” reported in the UK or Europe may in fact be hybrids (or misidentified Eurasian wigeon) rather than pure American wigeon - especially if away from known migration hotspots. Because of the wide variation between hybrids, no single trait is definitive - a combination of features is often used to reach a tentative ID.

What we do know is that from photographs from Alan Boddington (here) and Toby Carter (here) there had been a postive American wigeon sighting on previous days, and this doesn't appear to be the same individual. A great white egret stalked the close shoreline.

We continued our search but didn't find any sign of the bird photographed earlier in the week. As I write this it appears that the wigeon wasn't recorded at all on Sunday.

The weather began to close in, and a mist rolled toward us, making viewing increasingly difficult. We soon packed up and started our journey home, with a stop at Wildlife BCN Summer Leys - it would have been rude not to. The sun had broken through but was already sinking low in the sky, so we decided to just visit the Pioneer Hide, nearest to the car park - the hide was empty and we saw a sparrowhawk being mobbed by a crow over the car park.

The water level had risen considerably since our last visit, and the scrape was now completely submerged, leaving no islands for waders to feed. Most of the birds were on the main water body, except for a few coot, tufted ducks, and moorhens. Several rabbits frolicked along the far shore, to the right of the double-decker (Paul Britten) hide.

I settled at the window, gazing out over the scrape and beyond, while Kev scanned the main water body. At a distance, I spotted a large brown bird; through the binoculars, I could make out it was a bittern. I called Kev over just as the bird dropped into the reeds. Ten minutes later, I caught sight of a cream-crowned marsh harrier, though Kev didn’t manage to see it. He joined me at the window, thinking he’d heard a kingfisher, but despite our efforts, we couldn’t locate it. Shortly after, a water rail called nearby; this time it was me who missed it, and it vanished into the dense reeds before I could get a view.

Flocks of golden plover and lapwings then took to the sky. The lapwings eventually settled on the island edges over the far reeds, while the golden plover circled for a while, formed into a “V,” and departed. There was no obvious cause for their disturbance although a little later, a male sparrowhawk flew through, and a kestrel was seen feeding to the left.

As the light began to fade, a starling murmuration started to take shape, though it was modest in size. It did, however, catch the attention of the marsh harrier, which reappeared, soon followed by a peregrine. The two raptors clearly weren’t pleased with each other’s presence; after a few stoops and aerial dives, the peregrine departed to the right.

To the right of our hide, on the water's edge, the water rail appeared very briefly but immediately scampered off and out of sight. It was now past sunset - a few birders/toggers had joined us in the hide and we all departed with little light left to see the birds never mind take a photograph.

Year list: 248.