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.

Calshot, Holbury & Goatee Beach :: 22 November 2025

The weekend weather forecast looked rather bleak, so when Kev @kev07713 and I began discussing Saturday plans, we naturally considered birding locations that offered some shelter, ideally somewhere with a hide. We weighed a few options and eventually settled on Slimbridge. There were reports of little stints, white-fronted geese, spotted redshanks, and returning Bewick’s swans, but nothing we hadn’t already seen this year. I’d visited recently, but it would at least get us out birding, and Slimbridge is always a worthwhile destination.

However, by the time Kev picked me up the next morning, he’d had a change of thought. After a brief chat, our plans shifted completely - we were off to Holbury, Southampton, to see the boat-tailed grackle. Kev had been before, but I hadn’t yet had the chance.

This bird is believed to be the first-ever boat-tailed grackle recorded in Britain, having been initially reported on 2 November 2025 at Calshot Spit, close to the RNLI lifeboat station and Calshot Castle. It was first thought to be a great-tailed grackle, but closer examination of photographs led to its re-identification.

Given Calshot’s proximity to the Port of Southampton, it is suspected that it arrived by ship and was therefore “ship-assisted”. As a result, it is expected to be categorised as Category E by British records committees, a classification applied to species that are not considered to have self-sustaining wild populations in Britain, and typically escapees or human-assisted arrivals.

A large and striking member of the blackbird family, the species is renowned for its long, keel-shaped tail, loud vocalisations, and confident, often bold—behaviour around people. Individuals of the Atlantic subspecies typically show pale yellow or whitish eyes, consistent with the bird seen at Calshot.

The boat-tailed grackle, specifically of the Atlantic subspecies, is largely non-migratory. In its native range, it inhabits coastal saltmarshes and urban areas along the eastern United States, from Virginia south through Florida and along the Gulf Coast. Highly adaptable, it frequently scavenges in urban environments and is known to explore human structures, roadsides, and even engage closely with birders.

Observers noted how incredibly confiding this individual was; it approached photographers, mingled among people, and even accepted food. It was seen foraging around the lifeboat station and beneath small vessels. On 6 November it reportedly flew off and was initially lost, though later sighted again in a garden at Holbury, not far from Calshot.

As we neared Holbury, we were reminded of reports of a white starling at Calshot. The bird, with its dark eyes, pale legs, and mostly white plumage, is leucistic rather than albino. Observers noted that it has been present for “a few years” and, remarkably, has successfully bred despite its conspicuous colouring. It has been described as “quite striking,” particularly when flying among normally coloured starlings, making it easy to pick out in a flock. We decided to continue down to Calshot to see if it was still with the starling flock, though, as far as I could tell, the last reported sighting was on 16 November.

We stopped to watch a flock of starlings beyond the beach huts, observing them feeding along the grass and along the water’s edge. There were plenty of turnstones, some dunlins, redshanks, ringed plovers, oystercatchers, and brent geese, but no sign of the leucistic starling. We located another small flock among a compound of sailing boats, yet still it was absent.

Working our way around the area in a light drizzle, we then turned our attention to the sea, where more turnstones and a couple of sanderlings were feeding in the frothy surf. Kev moved back to scan along the water in the opposite direction while I followed the sanderlings along the shore, hoping for a photo of these tiny birds; I love the way they scamper so energetically. They flew ahead, and I thought they had gone out of reach, but when I turned back along the shore, I saw they had relocated just behind me.

We knew that free parking along this stretch was limited, so after making sure we hadn’t overstayed our welcome, we decided to move on, keeping in mind that we might return if the chance arose - our next stop would be the area where the grackle had been regularly reported. Birders reported that it would perch on fences and roofs but also wander through the lawns and gardens of the estate houses, foraging on lawns for worms and scattered seeds. The bird seemed to have become fairly settled in its surroundings - locals had been feeding it and have often welcomed visiting birders into their gardens to watch and photograph it.

We pulled up to see two cars already parked, both with birders on site. Kev spotted Nick Bristow @nickbris56.bsky.social and joined him and the others as they worked their way along the gardens. Meanwhile, another car arrived, and I teamed up with the new birder to scan down the street in the opposite direction and across the fields behind the church.

After a thorough search, the group regrouped and swapped areas. Eventually, the birder I was with decided to move on, planning perhaps to return later. At that moment, a call went up down the street - they’d located the grackle. A short walk later, we found the bird, feeding along a driveway and around the side and underside of a car. As reported, it paid no attention to our presence.

We watched as it strolled across the lawn to the shrubs on the other side of the garden, but still relatively close, feeding on what looked like seeds scattered by the homeowner. It would feed for a couple of minutes before walking into the shrubs and disappearing from view. The seeds had also attracted some other visitors - at least three rats that scurried in and out of view.

We stopped to chat with Nick and the others while waiting for the grackle to emerge from the shrubs, discussing cameras, lenses, tripods, and a gimbal head that he was particularly recommending. As the rain began to intensify, Nick and I both headed back to the cars to grab covers for our cameras and lenses. Before we could return, however, the grackle reappeared. We watched as it strolled across the lawn, foraging with complete confidence. Eventually, it hopped onto the fence, then onto the neighbouring lawn. Rather than flying, it walked down the driveway, out through the gate, along the pavement, and back into the original garden - absolutely incredible. It was so close to us, showing no fear whatsoever. I had to cross the road to get far enough away to get the full bird in the frame.

The rain kept falling, and I’d managed to take a few shots that I hoped would turn out well. With the grackle still showing no signs of doing anything different, there seemed little reason to stay. Nick clearly felt the same, so we all packed up and said our goodbyes.

Back in the car, we discussed our next move. A scarlet ibis had been lingering at Goatee Beach just along the coast, and our friends Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston had enjoyed excellent views a couple of weeks earlier. That settled it, we headed in that direction.

We arrived in steady rain, parked in the designated car park, grabbed our gear and walked out towards the water. It was almost high tide, which could make things tricky, as any exposed feeding edges would now be submerged. We set up our scopes and began scanning, picking out good numbers of wigeon, some teal, black-tailed godwits, oystercatchers, curlew and a cormorant, but no ibis.

Time passed before a kingfisher shot through and down the channel. We watched it disappear near the edge of a compound. I continued scanning with binoculars, hoping it might have landed on the concrete wall or posts in the water, while Kev switched to his scope. A couple of minutes later, he called me over. His scope was focused on a pair of wooden posts standing in the water, but there was nothing perched on them. Assuming the kingfisher had flown, I said as much to Kev. He looked at me as though I was missing something, which I was. He told me to have another look and, behind the posts and at some distance, there it was, the scarlet ibis. “You’re not a very good birder, are you?” 😊

I went back to my scope to relocate the ibis while Kev pulled out his flask and poured himself a tea to enjoy while watching it. Unfortunately, by the time we looked again, the ibis had vanished and didn't reappear.

We continued scanning the area, picking up the same species as before along with a couple of Little Egrets, all under persistent rain. A few dog walkers stopped to chat, but eventually we decided to call it a day and head back to Calshot for one final attempt at finding the leucistic starling. If nothing turned up, at least the café in the Activity Centre would be a consolation.

We returned to Calshot and began searching the area again. The water level had risen noticeably, leaving very little exposed feeding habitat along the shoreline, and as a result, the large number of waders we’d seen earlier had moved on. There were fewer starlings too. With the rain still falling, we drove around checking for other starling flocks, but whenever we found them, our target was not among them.

Eventually, we retreated to the café for a late lunch, watching great crested grebes, cormorants, sanderlings, turnstones and others from the windows. After eating, we made one final stop to observe a group of starlings, oystercatchers, ringed plovers, and dunlins feeding on the grass, but the leucistic starling still failed to appear.

As we were preparing to leave, a small bird dropped in, dark-headed, with something of a bunting feel to it. On closer inspection, it turned out to be nothing more than a very waterlogged house sparrow. “Home, James and don’t spare the horses.”

Year list: 248.