Dunwich Heath & Aldeburgh :: 11 October 2025

The Turkestan shrike (also referred to as red-tailed shrike) is a small passerine bird known for its striking plumage and characteristic predatory behaviour. Its breeding range is central Asia, mainly from southern Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and northern Iran eastward into western China. It then winters by migrating south to the Arabian Peninsula, Pakistan, and northwestern India and prefers open scrubland, semi-desert, farmland edges, and thorny bush areas. It was once considered a subspecies of the red-backed shrike or Isabelline shrike, but is now generally treated as a distinct species, though classification can vary between authorities.

According to the British Trust for Ornithology, there had been 12 records of Turkestan shrike in the UK. However, a 13th turned up last weekend at Dunwich Heath National Trust in Suffolk and while I was away work abroad during the week, Kev @kev07713 did the sensible thing and went with his wife Karen to see it - he had seen one at RSPB Bempton Cliffs back in July 2022, but his wife hadn't seen it then.

The bird has been very visible, offering birders superb viewing opportunities. It has been observed actively hunting, catching prey like dragonflies and bees, and displaying classic shrike behaviour by impaling food on gorse for later. Perched prominently on bushes, it has allowed for clear and prolonged observation - there have been some cracking photos.

Kev and I discussed our options for Saturday: the Turkestan shrike, which would be a lifer for me; the Baird’s sandpiper at Rutland Water; or the greater short-toed lark, also a lifer for me, at the Snettisham Coastal Path. Since we had both seen Baird’s sandpipers before, the real decision came down to the other two. Both were species Kev had already seen, but I leaned toward the shrike because of the potential for perching and flight photos. Kev was happy with that plan, and I offered to drive since he had already made the journey a few days earlier.

On the way, we stayed in touch with our friends Adrian Sparrowhawk, Bryan Manson, and Mark, who were also heading to the site and apparently only about ten minutes behind us. We stopped at Greggs for a breakfast roll and coffee, waiting for them to catch up. The venue itself was a bit rough, but that didn’t concern us; soon we were back in the cars, with Adrian following me.

We were only 30 minutes from the site and arrived perfectly as the car park was being opened - a man was unlocking the gate that normally prevented access. Interestingly, the car park wasn’t scheduled to open until 9.00am., but it was only 8.30am. when we got there - some people had parked up along the road and had walked in. We drove to the car park by the Visitor Centre, and Kev paid for parking - Bryan, being a National Trust member, received a whole £1 discount.

As we passed other birders, they confirmed that the Turkestan shrike had not yet been seen. We joined the group near its last reported location, looking back to where two birders were staking out the spot Kev had seen it earlier in the week. Like many shrike species, Turkestan shrikes are diurnal hunters: they often start perching and scanning for prey at dawn but typically wait until insects and other prey become active before hunting in earnest. Overnight temperatures had been cold, and it was still quite cool, so hopefully the bird was still roosting.

There were more than a dozen people scanning for the shrike, and after taking a look ourselves, we left Adrian, Bryan, and Mark to continue watching. It seemed possible the bird had moved on, but with so many eyes on it, any reappearance would be quickly reported - and we would be less than ten minutes away. Meanwhile, a yellow-browed warbler had been reported closer to the entry gate the day before, so we made our way down, spotting various warblers and pipits along the route. Scanning over the sea revealed only seals and herring gulls.

We stopped at a clearing where there was plenty of movement among tits and finches and set about working through the flock. Blue, great, and long-tailed tits were joined by chaffinches, blackcaps, and goldfinches. Ten siskins flew over, and a striking male continental blackbird made an appearance before chiffchaffs and goldcrests then showed up.

At one point, we heard a call we didn’t recognise and tried the Merlin app, which suggested a blackpoll warbler - three times. We did see a warbler pass through that we couldn’t identify, but it’s likely a mis-ID - the app can be prone to errors with some species. That said, there have been a few blackpoll warbler sightings in the UK this autumn. These rare North American migrants would be a thrill to spot, and Dulwich Heath could have been another stop on their incredible journey though, in this case, the mystery remains.

We’d heard woodlarks and great spotted woodpeckers calling, with one woodpecker dropping into a tree right in front of us as a few more siskins passed overhead. Adrian rang to say they were heading off to try for the greater short-toed lark at Snettisham, and we wished them luck. We made our way slowly back to where the shrike had been, finding the area quiet - most of the birders had already moved on.

We looked on Birdguides and noted that a yellow-browed warbler had been reported along the coast at St Peter & St Paul's Church, Aldeburgh - the churchyard seems to be a regular spot for these yellow-browed warblers with records now in 2025, 2024, 2022, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2014, and 2012. We'd not found the one here at Dunwich Heath and decided to try Aldeburgh for our first of the autumn.

The yellow-browed warbler is a tiny, energetic leaf warbler from Siberia that has become a much-loved autumn visitor to the UK. It is very small and similar to a goldcrest with plumage that has bright greenish upperparts, pale underparts and distinct yellowish supercilium (“eyebrow”), dark eyestripe, and two whitish wing bars. It breeds across northern Asia, from the Ural Mountains through Siberia to far eastern Russia and winters mainly in South and Southeast Asia. In Europe it is a classic autumn vagrant, appearing in the UK from late September to November in increasing numbers. Once a rare vagrant, the yellow-browed warbler has become a regular autumn migrant, with hundreds recorded annually, particularly along the east coast.

We arrived at the church and made our way from the car park to the spot where the yellow-browed warbler had last been reported. Within five minutes, we heard a sharp, rising “tswee-eet”, often the best clue to the presence of this tiny migrant. The bird perched briefly at the top of a tree directly behind us, staying for only ten seconds before flitting across our heads to a tree further along the path.

We followed it as it moved, soon joined by another birder, whom we helped onto the bird. It remained quite vocal, calling persistently before relocating again and again. The warbler darted through the dense trees with astonishing energy, barely pausing as it threaded among branches and foliage. Its small, bright body was glimpsed only fleetingly, the pale underparts and greenish upperparts catching occasional flashes of light as it twisted, hopped, and foraged.

Watching it demanded patience, as we scanned the tangled branches and shadowy gaps, tracking this restless bird as it wove through the canopy. Even following it was a challenge and photographing it proved even trickier - the bird was often partly obscured by twigs, branches, and leaves, making each clear view feel like a small victory.

We spent the next couple of hours watching and photographing the warbler, chatting with a steady stream of fellow birders - at times there were up to ten birders around. Capturing a good photo proved no easier than tracking the bird itself, and many were just as frustrated as Kev and I. I did manage a few shots I was pleased with, though. It was also excellent practice for Kev with his new camera - his first real birding challenge with a bird staying with the trees - and given how elusive the warbler was, it tested his patience almost to the limit.

The bird moved frequently, and as it shifted through different lighting, its colours revealed themselves in fleeting glimpses.

The bird showed almost continuously, though many of the photos were partly obscured by foliage - but in a way, I didn’t mind; it reflected the reality of the views we were getting. We considered leaving a couple of times, yet each time the chance of another good look persuaded us to stay a little longer. There was still just enough time to get back before my evening visitors arrived. Eventually, the bird melted into an even denser patch of trees, and sightings became increasingly difficult. When it finally reappeared, we had one last go at some photos, though I doubt we improved on what we’d already managed.

Although I was disappointed not to see the Turkestan shrike (and Kev was on my behalf), the excellent views of the yellow-browed warbler helped make up for it on another fine day out.

Year list: 240.

Pitsford Water & Summer Leys :: 04 October 2025

Each of the past few weekends, Kev @kev07713 and I have ended up doing the same thing, talking about the weather and deciding where to head next. Over the last few days, a storm had been rolling in from the west, sweeping across from the USA and bringing heavy disruption to the north and west of the UK. By overnight, the wind had picked up in Banbury too, blustery and wet.

Since we had decided to stay local, there was no need for an early start. With winter drawing in, the mornings were still dark as we set out and still blustery. We made steady progress to the parking spot and were surprised to find it completely empty - we’d expected others, newly freed from the workweek, to be making the most of the day as well. From there, we followed the track past the feeder station tucked among the trees, the harsh calls of a couple of jays echoing overhead and made our way toward the Bird Club hide.

From the track and through our scopes, we could already make out a dense flock of ducks at the far end of the reservoir, with a scattering of waders mixed in. From the feeders, though, we couldn’t be sure if the bird we were hoping for was among them. Closing the distance by half, we set up again - and there it was, the American golden plover.

Inside the hide, we found ourselves alone. We chose the best angle for viewing and soon had the bird in sight. It remained distant, but through the scopes that hardly mattered. We watched as it fed steadily across the exposed mud of the reservoir bed, occasionally joined by three ruff, though they didn’t seem to associate closely.

Next came the more challenging part, trying to capture some record shots and video. True to form, I’d left my photo adapter in the car, so I used the camera on top of the tripod. The image quality was fine; only the magnification was lacking.

The American golden plover breeds in the Arctic tundra in northern North America (Alaska, northern Canada) and migrates to South America for the non-breeding season. In the UK they are a rare vagrant and show up most commonly in the autumn, and occasionally in spring. The species is now recorded annually in small numbers in the UK. Because adult golden love (the European species) are common and similar looking, their American cousins can be confusing. Juveniles such as this bird, and non-breeding individuals, can be hard to separate and observers look for combinations of plumage, underwing colour, structure and behaviour. Because records are rare, thorough documentation including good photographs are often required if the sighting is to officially be accepted.

Kev managed to capture some footage, recording through his scope and has posted it on X (Twitter) here. I struggled a bit more - a couple of other birders joined us in the hide and we helped them onto the bird.

Since the American bird is unfamiliar and differs slightly in plumage, size, and behaviour, it can draw the attention of lapwings, which are highly territorial and responsive. One lapwing from the flock along the water’s edge took flight to chase it away, having triggered an aggressive or investigative reaction.

We spent a considerable time watching and scanning the other birds, hoping to spot something noteworthy, but only observed returning migrants, such as a few pintails and wigeon. Early October often brings the first waves of migratory and wintering wigeon back to the UK. They arrive from more northerly parts of their range as the breeding season ends and conditions begin to deteriorate. The wigeon were mingling with other ducks, including teal and mallard, in this sheltered bay, presumably to rest, graze, and feel secure. As the month progresses, more birds will arrive, often responding to falling temperatures, shortening daylight, and, possibly, food availability - particularly the grasslands around the water on which they feed.

Day-by-day and week-by-week, rather than in a single massive influx, the numbers steadily increase. I expect that by mid-month, moderate-sized flocks will be well established here, with numbers reaching into the hundreds and, in some years, perhaps even thousands.

Eventually, we decided to make our way to the James Fisher hide to see if the bird was any closer from there. We could see that the sun was now breaking through the clouds, and although the bird might be closer, it could end up silhouetted against the light.

On the walk, we came across some goldcrests working through the tree canopy, with Kev hearing a call that sounded more like a firecrest. Unfortunately, we never located a bird matching the call before they disappeared. A treecreeper also worked its way up the back of a tree but was quickly lost from view.

When we reached the hide, we quickly spotted our bird feeding on the mud. As feared, the sun was directly behind it, so quality photos were out of the question - we would only have been able to pick out details from a silhouette. Around the main water body and in a small pool between the two hides, handfuls of great white egrets fed alongside little egrets, pintail, shoveler, and mallard.

By now, there were four of us squeezed into the little hide, and shortly afterward, a couple more birders arrived. Given the limited space and the likelihood that the photo opportunities wouldn’t improve anytime soon, Kev and I decided to leave. As we stepped out, I checked my phone and noticed a notification: someone had reported finding a camera lens hood and had placed it back in the Bird Club hide. I’d realised mine was missing in the hide and had been a little frustrated, but now I felt a wave of relief - someone had found it just outside the Bird Club hide. At least I wouldn't have to be quite so vigilant on the return walk.

We started back along the path, but our attention was quickly drawn upward. In the tree canopy above, a couple of common crossbills were working through the branches. Before we could even raise our cameras, they flitted away, vanishing almost as soon as we had located them. Undeterred, we continued scanning the trees, eyes constantly shifting across the foliage. Not long after, a small flock of birds dropped in, and we soon managed to identify them as siskins, bright and lively, flitting among the leaves. But within a few tens of seconds these moved on too, leaving behind a couple of goldfinches.

We made our way back to the Bird Club hide, retrieved my lens hood, and settled in once more to watch our bird and see whether anything new had appeared. The great white egrets were becoming more active, several taking flight across the water. One landed to the left of the hide, while three others continued toward the causeway.

A little later, we were joined by Dennis Woodward (well-known Warwickshire birder), and conversation turned to the bird out on the mud, possible supporter action at the upcoming Coventry vs. Sheffield Wednesday match, and the difficulties some of his friends were having getting north on their journey to Shetland.

A flicker of movement in the trees far to our left caught my attention. Scanning the branches, I found a sparrowhawk perched there, standing its ground despite the persistent attentions of a crow trying to drive it off.

We noticed the clouds beginning to darken and decided to move on toward Summer Leys. Along the way back to the car, we saw and heard both green and great spotted woodpeckers, as well as a stonechat, before stopping on the track beside the trees that hold the feeders. We scanned through the birds gathered there - greenfinches, goldfinches, great tits, blue tits, and a couple of chiffchaffs - but no sign of any tree sparrows. They’re probably still around, though their numbers have been declining. We knew a few had been seen here back in the spring.

Before long, Darren caught up with us and stopped for another chat, and then another birder came along the track behind us and struck up a conversation with Kev. While they talked, I kept scanning the water and noticed a solitary gull that caught my eye. Its features suggested it might be a yellow-legged gull. As I glanced away and then back, I saw it had taken off and as it passed overhead, I could confirm I’d been right, though too late to point it out to Kev.

We arrived at Summer Leys and headed first to the Pioneer hide, where a mother and son were already in place. Just as I reached the window, a water rail slipped quickly into the reeds - Kev was a moment too late to catch what the young lad had been trying to point out. The boy was knowledgeable for his age and proudly wielded a camera with a decent-sized lens, though his mum mentioned he was hoping for a larger one for Christmas. Kev, ever the entertainer, struck up a lively conversation with him until his mother reminded him of another appointment and they moved on.

With little else to see from that hide, we decided to continue to the Paul Britten (Double-Decker) hide. Jack snipe have begun returning to the country, and we’ve had good sightings from there in previous years. When we arrived, the hide was empty and almost as empty as the scrape itself, which was largely devoid of water. A couple of great white egrets and grey herons stood in the nearby grasses, and before long, one of the egrets took flight, presumably heading off in search of a suitable feeding spot. Aside from stretches of mud, there wasn’t much else to draw the eye.

In front of us the long-staying glossy ibis was feeding along a channel still with some mud - it waded slowly through dry bed and mud, often with its head lowered, probing the mud with its long, slender, downward-curved bill. The sensitive tip of the bill detects prey by touch, allowing the bird to snap it up quickly once contact is made. The glossy ibis has a dark, iridescent plumage that can appear chestnut, bronze, green, purple, or even metallic black depending on the light angle. Under flat or overcast light, the glossy ibis appeared mostly dark brown or black, and much of the metallic sheen was lost.

The glossy ibis left and I saw it relocated over towards the Pioneer hide where at least four photographers sat at the window with camera lenses hanging out the window. Kev's attention had been redirected to scanning for snipe and specifically a jack - he was very focused - if anyone would find one it would be Kev as he is amazing at picking out objects and birds in cover and/or at great distance.

Jack snipe are small, compact waders with mottled brown, buff, and black plumage - their streaked and barred pattern blends seamlessly with dead reeds, cut vegetation, and wetland detritus. When stationary, they are almost invisible, with only the subtle outline of their head or eyes occasionally betraying their presence. They prefer cut or trampled reed beds where water is shallow and cover is dense - typically, a jack snipe will stay crouched and motionless, relying on its camouflage to avoid detection.

Kev stopped as he scanned the far edge of the cut reeds and called me over. At first, it was almost impossible to tell, just a tiny, mottled blur among the browns and tans of the cut stalks. Then, with a practiced glance through his scope, he picked out the rounded shape of a jack snipe crouched low in the vegetation.

Despite the distance - well over 100 metres - the bird’s compact, cryptic form and its slight, hesitant movements betrayed its presence. Kev signalled again, and from so far away, the telltale streaked and barred plumage, perfectly blended with the cut reeds, was enough for us to confirm it - the black crown now showing "clearly".

The jack snipe remained almost motionless, unaware of the distant observer. Kev continued to watch, noting its tiny head, subtle breathing movements, and the way it adjusted its posture slightly, preening beneath the reeds. Every now and then, a tiny movement, a flick of the bill or a slight twitch of a leg, served as a reminder of the bird’s incredible camouflage and secretive nature. Then, after some subtle but unmistakable bobbing, the jack snipe revealed itself just enough - spotting it at that distance, so perfectly hidden among the cut reeds, was an incredible find, the kind that makes all that patient scanning worthwhile. Kev once again captured some great video, which he shared on X (Twitter) here.

The glossy ibis returned and repeated the feeding route but from further to our left, leaving before it reached directly in front.

Two Iron Age pigs, a cross between wild boar and Tamworth, have been living at the reserve for the past couple of months. They’ll be leaving soon, but they’ve reportedly been doing some fantastic conservation work during their stay. Their natural rootling behaviour has been used to turn up the soil and create patches of muddy, bare ground around the water margins. These areas provide excellent feeding habitat for wading birds, both resident and migratory, which probe the shallow water and soft mud for invertebrates and other small creatures.

The area they have been placed in had been choked with invasive New Zealand pygmy weed and Bur-reed, which offered poor conditions for waders. Thanks to the pigs, the vegetation has been cleared and the habitat greatly improved. I don't know if they are the same pigs (but highly likely) as those previously doing the same job at Lilbourne Meadows reserve, also in Northamptonshire.

It was now time to make tracks home, but as always, it had been a great day out.

Year list: 240.