Hurley, Warwickshire :: 05 January 2026

This feels like the first real day of my new life. Normally I would have returned to work, but as the business relocated to Sheffield a year and a half ago, and the younger members of the team have since voted with their feet, I have resigned and, in effect, retired early - what a lucky position to be in!

Various events around me meant I was unsure what I could do over the weekend, so when I heard that Kev @kev07713 and Karen @karenheath62 Heath had gone to see the showy yellow-browed warbler on Sunday at Hurley, Warwickshire, and with Charlotte off playing pickleball, I decided to make the trip myself. Kev promised I wouldn’t be disappointed with the bird and expected good photo opportunities - I hoped it wouldn’t turn out like the twitch for the Ortolan bunting last year, which departed overnight before I arrived, and would be my easiest twitch ever!

I reached the site and met another birder on the track who confirmed the bird was present and showing well - he had taken some cracking photos, if he said so himself. I parked the car at the end of the lane and put on warm clothes and gloves as the temperature was still below zero. One positive was that the sun was out, making the day feel crisp and frosty. I did realise, though, that if the bird appeared in the low sun the light would be quite harsh, and so I hoped it might show just out of direct sunlight.

The bird had been feeding in scrub on either side of a ditch, the water strangely unfrozen. It seemed to work along the ditch to the left and right of a bridge crossing onto MOD land - instructions clearly state not to cross if the flag is flying on the pole beside the bridge. Behind the right-hand ditch is a compound attached to the water treatment works. I thought it would be best if the bird stayed on the right-hand side of the ditch, as although this would reduce the available light, it would avoid the harsh glare. However, within a couple of minutes I found the bird on the left-hand side, working its way back toward the bridge. There was no need to chase the bird along the ditch, as whenever it left the bridge area it soon returned, feeding predominantly on the far bank, often partially obscured or moving through the grasses and scrub like a mouse. Then, briefly, opportunities would appear as the bird showed itself in the open before darting from stem to stem. It paid no attention to me or the three other birders who had now joined me. Views of this species really don’t get any better than this!

From time to time the warbler would loosely associate with one or more of the roughly four chiffchaffs feeding along the same ditch. One was very pale underneath, presumably the Siberian chiffchaff reported by others, but it went awol before I had a chance to get a photograph and I didn’t see it again. The other three chiffchaffs showed regularly and were easily distinguishable by their differing colouration, one being particularly pale. It does seem that many more chiffchaffs are overwintering in the UK these days.

While watching the ditch, a few other birds worked the margins: a stonechat, a common snipe, a pair of wrens chasing and singing, and a couple of robins. Around the edges of the compound, blackbirds, redwings, and fieldfares fed on berry bushes, while in the field behind a flock of 50+ linnets mixed with goldfinches, skylarks, yellowhammers, and meadow pipits.

Having walked along the ditch to the left of the bridge, I eventually decided to head back up the slope to see what might be found in the hedge. The linnets relocated to the tops of the trees, joined by yellowhammers, while chaffinches and a couple of reed buntings worked the hedge itself. There had been talk of a potential merlin across the field, but that didn’t materialise - though with flocks of small birds present, it’s easy to see why one might favour this area.

I could have waited and hoped the merlin might appear, but by now I’d lost all feeling in my fingers. Having seen what I’d come for and logged 26 species, I decided to head for home.

Year list: 84.

WWT Slimbridge & Aust :: 02 January 2026

To properly kick off our birding year, Kev @kev07713 and I decided on a trip to WWT Slimbridge, and we were delighted when his wife, Karen @karenheath62, chose to join us. Overnight, the weather in Banbury had taken a turn for the worse, with snow falling and estate roads left icy and snow-covered, but Kev drove steadily and without drama. We made good progress down to Slimbridge, taking an imaginative route choice as we drew closer. Although there were already plenty of people on site, we were still early enough to need to enter through the Members’ gate.

We stopped by the Peng Observatory to work through the ducks and geese in the welcome warmth, enjoying the numbers of Bewick’s swans and pintails. Before long, though, we were keen to get out onto the reserve and see what else we could find.

We headed for the Estuary Tower but paused first to overlook Rushy from the hide, then passed through the new gate beside the Martin Smith Hide. Before we could turn back into the hide, we came across a small group of people gathered at the junction, apparently waiting for a firecrest to reappear. It had been seen on the far side of the track but had flown across and dropped out of view.

In the week ending 7 December, Slimbridge’s Latest Sightings report noted a firecrest present along the Withy Bed path throughout the day, with a second bird seen near Welly Boot Land. Our own notes also record our sighting on 6 December, while other trip reports from late December mention further firecrest sightings along the Decoy boardwalk.

We joined the wait, scanning patiently and picking up plenty of goldcrests along the way. After about fifteen minutes, a birder behind us called that the firecrest was showing in some ivy. It took a moment to pick it out, but there it was. I tracked the bird with the camera but couldn’t get it clear or in focus, and then it flew back across the track - had I missed my chance?

Fortunately, the bird dropped low into a bare bush and began working its way into the open, darting from branch to branch. This time I finally locked on, and as it paused briefly, I managed to grab a couple of shots.

From the Martin Smith Hide we scanned the pools, working through the wigeon and teal in the hope of picking out the green-winged teal that had been present on previous days, but without success. We then turned our attention to the distant geese, where a handful of white-fronted geese were visible but no sign of any tundra bean geese - there had been up to 12 reported a day ago. Large numbers of golden plovers were mixed in with the teal and lapwings along the edges of the pools, and the ducks frequently dashed onto the water, sending the lapwings and plovers swirling into the air as a peregrine regularly cruised through, searching for an opportunity.

We continued on to the Robbie Garnett Hide and scanned once more for the geese and the hoped-for green-winged teal. Beside us, another birder was already scanning far out to the left into the shallows, reporting that he thought he’d picked out a little stint. We swung round and quickly got onto it - then another, and then a third. Three birds feeding in the shallows alongside the dunlin, a very good tick.

Eventually we moved on to the Estuary Tower and began scanning through the geese, picking out the regular Ross’s goose and bar-headed goose combo, more white-fronted geese, barnacles, and a couple of decidedly farmyard-looking geese. Kev continued his habit of spotting birds in entirely different counties, calling a peregrine flapping way, way, way off to our left, apparently having just pinned down a recent catch.

We worked through the common cranes and counted eleven, far too distant for photographs, before three lifted off and relocated closer, off to the right.

We carried on working through the flocks when a birder to our right mentioned he had what he believed was a tundra bean goose in his scope. We joined him, and there it was among the geese we’d already scanned, clearly having dropped in after we’d moved on.

As we worked through the group more carefully, I gradually counted a total of ten bean geese.

A reserve volunteer then came down from the outside platform to let us know there were a couple of pink-footed geese off to the left. It didn’t take long to pick them up - birds we’d somehow also missed earlier, despite having scanned the geese near the two farmyard-looking individuals. Armed with news of the bean geese, the volunteer then charged back up the stairs to pass the information on.

We dropped into the South Lake Discovery Hide in the hope that the green-winged teal might have relocated there - it hadn’t - or that there might be some black-tailed godwits - there weren’t. We scanned through the ducks and could only add eight avocets to the day list.

We hoped to connect with redpolls in the alders but could only manage two “possibles”. While searching, however, we did pick up a lone chiffchaff calling and a great white egret flying over. We then retired to the Visitor Centre for a spot of lunch, before setting off for Aust in the hope of catching up with the penduline tits - up to three reported lately. Interestingly, the penduline tits are using a different area from the one where we saw an individual in mid-November last year.

Instructions advised parking in Aust village and accessing the area via a footpath off Common Lane, near the Boar’s Head pub, with viewing restricted to the footpath. From there it was a 15–20 minute walk to the area where the birds have been recorded in the stands of Typha. Birders heading back told us they’d seen the bird earlier, though it had since gone to ground, with two of the three having flown off earlier in the day.

We arrived to find around half a dozen other birders already in place and scanned both ahead of and behind us. The bird hadn’t been seen for over an hour but was almost certainly still somewhere in the area.

We waited for about an hour before one of the chaps to our left came over to tell us that one of the guys beside him had seen the bird on the far side of the reeds, but it had since dropped; the woman to my right then said she had it briefly in the same area before it dropped again. Then a couple of minutes later someone called that it had appeared on our side and much closer - it took us a moment to lock on but thankfully it was feeding in front of us. As I raised my camera I got a couple of tugs on my camera strap - it was Adrian Sparrowhawk. His companion Bryan Manston greeted us in a more conventional way - "Hello - and happy new year".

Eventually the bird took to the air, flying high and over to a patch of brambles, presumably to roost, even though it was only a few minutes after 3.00pm.

It wasn’t seen again, but we did enjoy a good chat with a birder using Swarovski’s new stabilised scope, the AT Balance 18-45x65. The scope uses a combination of a gyroscope and voice-coil motor (VCM), sampling movement more than a thousand times per second to counteract shake and deliver a continuously smooth, stable image. Battery-powered, it offers up to twelve hours of use in the field, and the stabilisation produces impressively sharp, steady views - ideal for fast, reactive wildlife observation. The chap couldn’t speak highly enough of it, also remarking on how compact and lightweight his setup now felt - I'm sure it would be seriously helpful when videoing through the scope, even in wind.

With no further sightings, we walked back to Aust village with Adrian and Bryan, said our goodbyes, and began the journey home. It’s always satisfying when a plan comes together - having dipped this species on several previous occasions, it was particularly pleasing to connect on my last two attempts.

Year list: 75.

RSPB Otmoor :: 01 January 2026

Happy New Year! - the great reset is upon us.

It’s an exciting time for geese both locally and across the country and while I kicked off my 2026 list by counting birds in the garden, later in the afternoon, when my wife said she’d be busy, I seized the chance to sneak out to RSPB Otmoor for an hour.

Messages on the WhatsApp group suggested the best views of geese would be from the Noke end, particularly the south western side of Ashgrave overlooking Shangri-La (a pool on Ashgrave). I’d never parked at that end before and wondered how straightforward it would be, but there was no need to worry - it was easy, with several suitable places to pull in.

As previously reported, there has been a significant influx of white-fronted and tundra bean geese across the country, with no let-up in sightings after the Christmas period. Even so, I felt it was prudent to tick off both species in case the situation changed - white-fronts will probably linger, but it’s less clear whether the bean geese will disperse or disappear altogether. There was no point in taking chances.

I opted for wellies, having no intel on underfoot conditions, and followed the signed footpath until I encountered some geese. Although there were plenty of Canadas and greylags, neither of the scarcer visitors was immediately apparent. Further on, and out on the pool itself, were large numbers of wigeon, along with some mallard and at least a dozen pintail.

I pressed on and began encountering small groups of white-fronted geese. I then met a birder coming the other way, repeatedly scanning the field. He confirmed the presence of white-fronts, and I mentioned the groups I’d already seen back along the track. He went on to explain where the bean geese were being reported, adding that they were quite a way along the track and were distant - a scope would be needed. Scanning the flocks ahead of me, I was surprised to pick out a tundra bean goose ... and then another, apparently associating with a lone white-fronted goose.

They fed for a few minutes before settling down, though only briefly. After about five minutes they spread out again and resumed feeding on the grass, no longer close enough to capture in a single frame. The other birder was glad he’d stopped to chat, having missed these birds earlier, and with only binoculars he was very pleased to get a look through the scope. He was, however, mildly frustrated to have them so close and not to have brought his camera.

I moved on and continued watching the white-fronts, by now having counted at least fifty. They showed well but were very mobile, repeatedly lifting off and relocating around the fields. I scanned carefully with the scope but couldn’t pick out any more bean geese — perhaps, with the light fading and the sun dropping, they were beginning to drift off towards Big Otmoor to roost?

Out in the field were lapwings, three hares, some muntjac, roe, and fallow deer - the fallow deer were just lovely in the fading light - closing in on the golden hour. Every so often heads would lift in unison, alert to movement, before the herd settled again - a quietly impressive sight.

The light was really beginning to fade, but the calls of three ravens echoed around as they cronked while working the area. Eventually they crossed the field and drifted over the hedge behind me. That felt like the cue to head back and start the journey home - no point in pushing my luck.

Year list: 31.

Sheringham & Ludham Bridge :: 29 December 2025

A black-winged kite, a very rare visitor to Britain, was reported around Ludham Bridge, Norfolk and the surrounding marshes on 26 December. The bird was seen roughly 1.5 miles west and south of Ludham, particularly from the north side of the river northwest of Ludham Bridge and in the St Benet’s Abbey area. A striking raptor, the black-winged kite shows pale grey, white and black plumage and is well known for its distinctive hovering hunting style. Native to warmer regions such as sub-Saharan Africa and parts of Asia, it only rarely reaches Britain. Kev @kev07713 and I had previously seen the species (report here) at St Osyth in Essex in 2023. With UK records remaining scarce and classed as a true “mega” in birding terms, any appearance generates considerable interest. There was no doubt where our next birding trip would be, although it would have to wait until Monday 29th as family commitments kept each of us busy over the weekend.

Not too far from Ludham Bridge were two other tempting possibilities: an Eastern black redstart on the coast at Sheringham; or a black-bellied dipper at Bintree Mill. We decided we’d choose between them once we had the kite in the bag.

We set off and enjoyed a smooth run, stopping enroute for a comfort break and a service-station sausage bap. As we approached Ludham Bridge, we noticed a lay-by that was effectively full and assumed the small car park on the far side of the bridge must be the same, so we pulled in at the far end. The bird had been reported around 30 minutes earlier, first on a WhatsApp group and then on BirdGuides, so the journey surely wouldn’t be in vain.

As we finished getting ready, Rich Mooney pulled up alongside us, said hello, and then carried on, finding a parking space at the bridge after all. He mentioned he’d dipped a couple of recent birds, so we jokingly told him we didn’t want to be associated with him. We headed off towards the spot where the kite had been reported, and a birder walking back towards us confirmed it was still present when he’d left just ten minutes earlier.

We were over halfway there when we began meeting birders coming the other way - the kite had flown, departing high and south. With little point in continuing, we returned to the bridge to scan the marshes and wait, hoping it might be quickly refound, perhaps around the abbey or in the surrounding fields.

The fields held four whooper swans, two common cranes and a mix of ducks, geese (including an Egyptian goose) and lapwings - but no kite. We waited and watched patiently, but with birders now spread around St Benet’s Abbey and no further reports coming through, we decided to head to Sheringham for the Eastern black redstart reported earlier and return here later in the day. The black-bellied dipper at Bintree Mill, as it turned out, wouldn’t be reported again all day. Before we reached Sheringham the black-kite had been refound and was perching on trees distantly from the alley.

We arrived at Sheringham and followed directions to the esplanade, where parking had been suggested. As we approached, we spotted a small group of birders scanning down a drive towards a tall building and directly opposite was a convenient space to pull in, so we did - it would have been rude not to.

The Eastern black redstart refers to eastern subspecies of black redstart that breed across eastern Europe, Central Asia and parts of western China, differing subtly from the familiar western European form. In Britain, birds showing eastern characteristics are rare but regular vagrants, especially in autumn and winter; most often encountered along the east coast in autumn and winter, particularly after periods of easterly weather.

Cameras and binoculars in hand (and Kev with his scope), we joined the group, watching the bird at distance as it flicked around the gutters and pipework near the top of a multi-storey building. After a few minutes, one of the chaps suggested walking down the drive, pointing out that it simply served various flats and developments and wasn’t private. Kev set off, and I followed, with others joining us shortly afterwards.

The bird remained high and continued feeding, paying no attention to the growing audience below. It flitted effortlessly from perch to gutter to window ledge, entirely oblivious to its admirers below.

We watched for a while as the gathering of birders grew to around ten. I joked with one of them that the bird might drop down onto the fence right in front of us, prompting him to mime and call out “the dove from above” in true Reeves and Mortimer style - for those old enough to remember the 1990s double act.

After five minutes or so, the family that had been loading their car beneath the bird began to disperse, half leaving in one vehicle while the rest retired indoors. That was the cue for the redstart to oblige, dropping down to ground level for a few minutes to the delight of everyone watching - first onto a wall, then onto a wooden sleeper and the drive itself. It showed beautifully before rising again and returning to the elevated perches it had favoured earlier. What ... a ... bird.

After watching for a few more minutes, we accepted that we weren’t going to get any better views and made our way to the promenade to scan the sea. There were plenty of great crested grebes moving about, along with herring and black-headed gulls, an auk we couldn’t confidently identify, and several red-throated divers. Everything was distant and the wind had a definite bite, so once we were satisfied there was nothing else on offer, we packed up, spilt tea on my car bumper, and set off back towards Ludham Bridge - specifically St Benet’s Abbey.

We arrived to find the car park full, with one car abandoned so awkwardly that we couldn’t even enter, forcing us to reverse out again. In a stroke of luck, this allowed us to pull in alongside the entrance and leave the car there - you couldn’t have parked any closer to the abbey than that.

St Benet’s Abbey was a medieval monastery of the Order of Saint Benedict, set on the River Bure within the Broads. It is thought to have been founded on the site of a 9th-century monastery, and takes its name from St Benedict of Nursia, regarded as the founder of western monasticism. At the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the abbey’s lands were effectively seized by the Crown and transferred to the Diocese of Norwich. Although the monastery was intended to continue as a religious community, the monks dispersed within a few years, leaving only the ruins that remain today.

On the raised path linking the abbey to the bridge, overlooking the reeds and marshes beyond, around two dozen birders were gathered, and we joined them to learn that the kite hadn’t been seen for some time and had dropped from view. One birder thought he’d glimpsed it briefly in a distant gap between trees, moving right towards the bridge - were we going to be in the wrong place? Around us marsh harriers, buzzards and kestrels drifted through, while out in the fields were six cattle egrets, two common cranes and a handful of white-fronted geese.

After another fifteen minutes or so, word went up that the kite had been seen from "The Cross" - an elevated viewpoint (with a cross) on the hillside on the far side of the abbey. Everyone packed up and hurried across, only for the bird to drop from its perch and disappear again by the time we arrived. From this higher vantage point, we enjoyed close passes from both male and female marsh harriers, while behind us snipe were on the wing, along with the cattle egrets again, little egrets, lapwings and more.

The chap standing on the far side of Kev mentioned a harrier coming across the field low, and with several around I assumed he meant a marsh harrier. When someone next to me asked what we were looking at, I said as much - only to be immediately corrected: it was a male hen harrier. A ghost.

I picked the bird up in my binoculars and then swung onto it with the camera, only to realise my exposure compensation was cranked far too high. Instead of firing off a few frames regardless, I tried to dial it back, and by the time everything was set the moment had gone. Idiot.

Graham Jepson (@GrahamJepson1) was wandering along the edge of the field, with his family joining him - impressive commitment, given they’d all been up at 5.00am to go birding, especially knowing that waiting for a black-winged kite can involve plenty of standing around. They’d seen the bird first thing, but only briefly and at some distance.

After another twenty minutes or so, a shout went up - someone had relocated the kite, perched on a post. To call it distant was an understatement: it was almost at “Kev range”, close to a mile away; it was visible through the scope, but far too distant to capture any meaningful detail in a photograph, though that didn’t stop me trying. The bird remained on the post for a while, feeding on what appeared to be a small rodent.

After around fifteen minutes, the kite lifted off and drifted right (west) towards the bridge, before stopping to perch high in a willow. It remained there for five to ten minutes, then took to the air to hunt. The species hunts with a distinctive, almost kestrel-like style, often hovering motionless over open ground with wings raised and tail fanned as it scans below. Once prey is detected it drops swiftly and purposefully, seizing small mammals with precision before either returning to a perch or resuming its hover. We were treated to this elegant, buoyant display for almost forty-five minutes, one of the species’ most captivating behaviours.

Eventually, having caught another rodent, the kite dropped into a gated area where it was barely in view, feeding and preening for a good twenty minutes. By now the light was fading and we joined Graham and his family, watching through scopes and cameras. In the end we had to accept that, even if the bird did move closer, the light was poor and it was nearing roosting time - likely to be north of the bridge and away from where we stood, so we made our way back to the car.

Walking through the car park, I headed to the car to open the boot, collapse the tripod and stow my optics, with Kev lagging behind. I assumed he was saying his goodbyes to Graham, but after a minute or two he reappeared to tell me there was a short-eared owl hunting across the marsh fields. I followed him back and watched as it quartered distantly - far from ideal for photography in the failing light, but a fantastic sight to end the day.

Between us and the owl were several Chinese water deer. Introduced to Britain in the late 19th and early 20th centuries from China and parts of Korea, some have escaped from deer parks and went on to establish wild populations, particularly in East Anglia, including Norfolk. Unlike other deer, they lack antlers; instead, both sexes have canine teeth, with the males’ elongated tusks used for display and fighting during the rut. They favour wet, marshy habitats - reedbeds, river margins, wetlands and fenland - which explains their success in places like the Norfolk Broads.

It was a great end to the day - despite our early dip, we’d caught up with both available target species. The journey home was smooth and, with traffic light, didn’t feel too long at all.

I usually create a collage of some of my favourite or significant species of the year and post with a new year message on my social media feeds. If you are reading this then first of all, thank you!, and then please accept my best wishes for health, wealth and happiness for you and yours in 2026. Let’s hope for another cracking year of birding.

Year list: 253.