Oldbury Power Station & WWT Slimbridge :: 25 October 2025

With Kev away on holiday, birding along the west and east coasts of Scotland before heading into Yorkshire, I had to decide on my own plan for the regular Saturday outing. I asked my wife, Charlotte, if she’d like to join me, and she agreed, giving up her regular Pickleball session since she’d already played nearly every day during her club’s holiday week. I started looking for somewhere not too far away, with decent facilities and the potential for a year tick or two. In the end, I settled on a trip to Oldbury-on-Severn and the power station in search of black redstarts, followed by a visit to WWT Slimbridge to try for the Temminck’s stint.

There’s often a black redstart at the power station around this time of year, but reports over the past few days have mentioned anywhere from four to seven birds, so the odds of finding a male seemed promising. I’d only been to the site once before,back in March 2023, when I went to see an Alpine swift (report here).

The power station is located on the south bank of the River Severn, near the village of Oldbury-on-Severn in South Gloucestershire. The station comprised two nuclear reactors of the Magnox type, each originally producing about 217MW capacity. The first of the reactors started generating back in 1967 - a good year - and when it shutdown in 2012 was the oldest operating nuclear power station in the world. Over its lifetime the station generated circa 137.5 TWh of electricity - enough to power one million homes for 20 years. The reactor buildings were enclosed in prestressed concrete pressure vessels, the first in the UK to employ this method. The site used water from the River Severn via intake/outfall structures connected by underground culverts to the turbine hall's condensing units for cooling.

The last of the station's fuel was removed in early 2016 meaning about 99% of the site's radioactive hazard had been removed. Site decommissioning is still underway with current work focussing on waste retrieval, processing, storing and dispatch. The site is scheduled to enter the "Care and Maintenance" phase in 2027 with final site clearance and demolition planned for wel into the 2090s or 2100s.

With sunrise at 6:51 a.m., there was no need for an early start - I wanted enough light for photography - so we planned to arrive around 9.00am. Pulling into the car park, we spotted another birder setting up his gear, also heading out in search of the birds. He’d been before, though he admitted he still hadn’t managed a great photo. The sky was overcast, which meant good shots might be tricky, but hope springs eternal. He set off ahead of us, though we soon caught up and followed him to the spot where the best photos had reportedly been taken. Even before reaching it, I spotted a female perched on top of a white corrugated building.

The black redstart is a rare breeder in the UK and is more regularly encountered as a passage migrant and winter visitor from continental Europe - France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Autumn passage typically spans from September to November, with a peak in October. Its preferred habitats include old buildings, industrial sites, quarries, churches and cathedrals, and cliff faces - basically places with bare or rocky ground.

The male is sooty-grey/dark overall, with a distinct bright orange.red tail, and often with a white-ish wing patch. Females and juveniles are a duller grey-brown overall but still with the orange-red tail - juvenile males often exhibiting the white wing patch.The wing patch on juvenile males is a great clue to their age and plumage stage, and changes quite a bit between late summer and their first spring. Freshly fledged there is no wing patch but juveniles undergo a partial moult before the autumn migration and crucially develops a pale or white wing patch. Females will lack ay wing patch and are more uniformly grey-brown.

There are thought to be typically 60-80 breeding pairs nationally with autumn migrants totalling several hundred to circa 1,000 individuals - total individuals recorded annually are therefore roughly 1,000-2,000 birds. They are highly localised with key areas are London and the Thames Estuary, Brisol and Severnside, Birmingham, and along the south coast.

I was able to locate various female type birds but always at distance and after a while of enjoying them through the scope we relocated down onto the coastal path, viewing one of the Severn Bridges in the distance. Although the light was still limited it was at least reasonably still. It took five minutes or so before we located a female but it was now closer and viewable through the fence. It then dropped down and into a dogwood shrub growing up a chain-link (wire-mesh) fence - this type of fence is common around industrial areas because it’s durable, affordable, and provides visibility while still creating a boundary.

We watched two females, a juvenile male and one male visit the fence around the dogwood and eventually observed them feeding on the dogwood berries - dogberries. Black redstarts are primarily insectivores, but their diet shifts seasonally to adapt to food availability. During the breeding season and warmer months, they focus on insects and other small invertebrates, which are rich in protein and essential for raising chicks.

In autumn and winter, insect numbers drop sharply, especially in northern or urban areas. To survive, black redstarts switch to fruits and berries, which provide sugars for energy and some essential nutrients. Dogwood berries, along with hawthorn, ivy, rowan, and other small fruits, are easy to find and digest, making them a convenient winter food source.

This seasonal flexibility is one reason black redstarts can survive in urban and semi-urban areas where insect availability may be unpredictable. They’ll often forage on berry-laden shrubs, supplementing their diet with whatever is available.

We enjoyed the views, and our earlier companion soon joined us, clearly noticing that we were getting better sightings than he had. Another birder appeared on the path as a kestrel flew around the cylindrical building structures, flushing pigeons from hidden perches. The kestrel made several passes, keeping the pigeons from settling, though they continued to circle the area. After a while, the kestrel seemed to give up its search and departed. It was evident that the peregrine, occasionally reported in the area, was not present today.

Charlotte had walked along the path and back and mentioned that she was beginning to feel cold, so we decided to pack up and head back to the car. On the way, we crossed paths with a birder coming the other direction, who confirmed spotting some female-type birds near our original vantage point. As we continued, we glimpsed a couple more ourselves, and a couple of stonechats.

We made our way to Slimbridge, which wasn’t far away, and on arrival we decided to postpone lunch until we had seen the Temminck’s stint that had already been reported that morning. We headed around to the Rushy Hide, only to find it full, with no spaces by the windows. Luckily, being tall, we were able to peer between others and try to catch sight of the bird. I was struck again by its size, particularly as it moved just behind a shelduck. Charlotte had a little trouble picking it out at first, with only directions and little sense of its scale, but she eventually spotted it, and we watched as it fed along a narrow muddy spit.

It is adapted for foraging in shallow mud and along the edges of freshwater wetlands. Its feeding behaviour is characterised by active probing and pecking. It mainly feeds on tiny invertebrates - insects, larvae, small crustaceans, and worms - which it picks from the surface of mud, sand, or shallow water.

Unlike some waders that use a rapid, continuous probing motion, Temminck’s stint often pause briefly between pecks, carefully inspecting the surface before striking. In winter or during migration stopovers, it will opportunistically consume tiny seeds or plant material, though invertebrates remain its main diet.

They breed across northern Europe and Siberia and winter in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and parts of southern Europe. In recent decades, there are about 100 records per year, with around 70 of those in spring passage - the species is extremely variable year‑to‑year, partly because Britain lies on the edge of its migration route, which makes numbers highly dependent on weather and migration patterns. There was a reportedly low count in 2021 of 54 individuals and a record influx of at least 226 in 2004.

Scanning the rest of the water we could see that numbers of birds have not built to the level we would expect for the winter months. We did however see a couple of common snipe out in the open and three spotted redshanks. After just a few minutes the stint flew onto the near bank but significantly distant and perhaps midway between the Rushy hide and Peng Observatory. From there it relocated again but this time to the back of the pool. After a further ten minutes Charlotte decided this was the time for us to visit the Visitor Centre for lunch.

We had been listening to one of the volunteers describe bittern flights between the Zeiss and Van de Bovencamp hides, which seemed to heighten Charlotte’s eagerness to return to the reserve. There was also a reported sighting of a yellow-browed warbler in the bushes near the Kingfisher hide. We decided to head straight for the Van de Bovencamp hide, joining about half a dozen others scanning the grass, reeds, and pool beyond. On the way, we stopped to chat with some friends who had dropped by after playing golf at Celtic Manor over the past couple of days.

One of the birders mentioned seeing bitterns within the last 45 minutes, so we were hopeful that regular sightings meant we wouldn’t have to wait long. About 20 minutes later, a bittern took flight in front of us, heading toward the Zeiss hide and dropping into the reeds to the front left. I managed to fire off a couple of shots, though the bird was already passing before I could get the camera on it. We watched for signs of movement in the reeds, and noticed people in the Zeiss hide pointing their lenses, suggesting they might have had partial views.

Around 15 minutes later, a second bittern burst out from roughly the same area, this time closer. It caught the strong wind now blowing through the hide windows and sped off quickly, veering right and disappearing over the track behind us. I didn’t have time to get the camera on it, though I was the one who had spotted it first. Later, a birder dropped by and showed us a photo of the second bird flying straight toward him before turning and crossing the track.

We spoke with a few birders who had gone looking for the yellow-browed warbler but returned empty-handed; perhaps the bird had taken shelter from the now brisk wind. Deciding to wrap up the day, we headed back towards the Visitor Centre for a cup of tea before making our way home.

On the way, we bumped into Nick and Anne Truby, who had stopped by on their return from a birding holiday in Cornwall. Unfortunately, the trip hadn’t been as rewarding as they’d hoped, and both had been under the weather with colds - Anne was still feeling unwell. We chatted briefly before continuing on our way.

Year list: 244.

Walsey Hills NR & Warham Greens :: 18 October 2025

Our discussion about where to go birding on Saturday was brief as Kev @kev07713 already had a plan. A trip to Norfolk, he suggested, might give me the chance to finally see a dusky warbler (a potential lifer), along with several other top species in the area. Even if things didn’t quite go as hoped, in Norfolk there’s rarely such a thing as a bad day’s birding. We’d stop for breakfast at our usual spot with Kev driving this time, and given the distance, we planned for another early start.

The dusky warbler is a small, plain-looking leaf-warbler from the eastern Palearctic that occasionally strays to Britain as a vagrant. It’s classed as a scarce but regular visitor - not a routine migrant, yet far from a one-off rarity. Most British records occur in late autumn, though a few hardy individuals have been known to overwinter in mild years.

Sightings were once extremely rare - the first European record was in Orkney in 1913 but reports increased steadily from the 1960s onward, with notable influxes during 1990 and 1994. By the early 2000s, several hundred records had been logged. Improved observer coverage and growing numbers of active birders have certainly helped, so long-term trends should be interpreted with care. As the species became more frequent, its treatment by rarity committees has also evolved.

In Britain, dusky warblers are most often found at coastal and island sites, where migrants from Asia make landfall. Classic locations include the east and northern coasts of Britain and Ireland, particularly at well-watched headlands, ringing stations, and reed-fringed scrub.

On their breeding grounds, dusky warblers inhabit the taiga and wet shrub habitats of northeastern Russia, Mongolia, and northeast China, favouring damp, dense vegetation where they forage low in cover. In winter they migrate south to South and Southeast Asia, from the Indian subcontinent to southern China.

Birds reaching Britain are thought to be drift migrants or weather-displaced individuals, blown westward by autumn storms or following unusual migration routes. As with many eastern vagrants, annual numbers vary depending on weather systems and breeding success in their core range.

At first glance, a dusky warbler can easily be overlooked among chiffchaffs and other small warblers. It’s a small, compact warbler with dark, earthy-brown upperparts and cold grey-buff underparts, appearing plainer and darker than a chiffchaff. The strong, pale supercilium (eyebrow) is long and sharply defined, especially in front of the eye, giving the bird a bright, alert expression. It has short wings, a rounded tail, a fine bill, and typically dark brown to blackish legs.

The call is often the best clue: a sharp, dry “tack” or “tchak”, reminiscent of a lesser whitethroat or two small stones being tapped together. It’s usually given repeatedly from low in cover and is often the first sign of a dusky warbler flitting through autumn brambles or scrub.

The Walsey Hills Reserve is well signposted, with roadside parking available alongside the site, and occasionally space in the small NWT car park at the southern end of the East Bank. We were lucky on arrival to find a spot in the layby right by the track leading into the reserve.

Walsey Hills Migration Watchpoint is a compact three-acre hillside reserve beside the A149 coast road, lying between the villages of Cley and Salthouse. Its mix of thorn and gorse scrub offers excellent cover for migrating birds, often drawing in scarcer species. Over the years, the site has produced an impressive list of rarities, including red-backed shrike, alpine swift, honey buzzard, Richard’s pipit, little bunting, and a trio of eastern warblers: dusky, yellow-browed, and Pallas’s. More regular visitors include Cetti’s warbler, pied flycatcher, common redstart, and firecrest, making it a great spot to check at almost any time of year.

As we walked in, we quickly encountered other birders, all scanning and listening intently - the bird had been vocal earlier, especially before the birders had entered the hedges. Soon enough, we heard its distinctive call, accompanied by glimpses of two yellow-browed warblers and flitting goldcrests. We continued scanning and listening, but although the call was clear, the bird itself remained elusive. Occasionally, a couple of birders would claim to have seen it flick past, though any views were fleeting.

Kev wandered down the track while I stayed put. Far back in the willows, our target finally appeared, distant and high, often partially obscured. I managed a tick, though the view wasn’t ideal, and Kev still hadn’t returned. It seemed that those who had taken a narrow path into the hedge clearing were getting better views. The bird then flew through into a tall stand of brambles, and I repositioned, hoping for a better view, bumping into Kev as I waited. While we scanned, two female blackcaps flitted in and out of sight, adding a bit of extra interest to the standstill.

We walked back to our original spot and saw the bird again, still frustratingly deep in cover. From a narrow path to our left came a steady chatter; around fifteen birders were gathered in a small clearing within the hedge, clearly getting better views. After a few minutes we decided to join them, and it wasn’t long before the dusky warbler appeared high in a tree to our right, possibly even visible from the main path. It was tricky to photograph, but when it briefly dropped out from the dense leaves, I managed a couple of record shots before it slipped back into cover.

We could still hear it calling and soon caught glimpses as it moved restlessly through the branches, always half-hidden by twigs and foliage. After some patient waiting, it worked its way into a tree to our left, giving us better, though still brief, views. I managed a few more decent photos, but not quite the clear shot I’d been hoping for.

Another ten or fifteen minutes passed before the dusky repeated its earlier circuit along the same branches. This time I crouched low, finding a gap through the scrub and a clear line of sight up to the branch it was climbing along - got it! Beside us we had Shaun Evans @sevans1032, a birder we have met on several outings previously, mostly around the Somerset/Gloucestershire/South Wales regions. He was with his wife and so, after seeing the bird well he disappeared off to catch up with her.

Kev was equally frustrated in his attempts to photograph the bird, as were most others trying their luck. Eventually, we decided we’d had our fill, and it was time to make room for others to enjoy the views we’d been lucky to get. We headed back to the car, content. As we packed away our gear, a large flock of pink-footed geese swept across the skyline, while redwings and fieldfares passed overhead in small groups and singles. We checked BirdGuides and decided to make our way to Warham Greens as a Hume's warbler had been reported there earlier in the morning.

We made our way up the track and parked the car, this time taking our scopes and tripods in the hope of scanning across the saltmarsh. The site offers a superb mix of habitats that make it a magnet for migrants and a haven for resident wildlife. The area lies between Stiffkey and Wells-next-the-Sea, overlooking vast saltmarshes, creeks, and tidal mudflats that stretch out toward the Wash and the North Sea.

Inland from the marsh, a low coastal ridge of gorse, bramble, hawthorn, and elder scrub runs parallel to the shore, the classic North Norfolk “bushy edge” that shelters tired migrants after sea crossings. In autumn, this strip can be alive with warblers, chats, flycatchers, and the occasional rarity. Paths through the scrub open out onto patches of rough grassland, bracken, and sandy trackways, while the seaward side offers panoramic views across the Cley–Salthouse–Wells saltmarsh system.

The combination of coastal scrub, wet meadows, and open marsh provides rich feeding and resting areas for a wide variety of species. In spring and autumn, it’s especially renowned for migrant passerines, while winter brings large flocks of waders, wildfowl, and raptors such as marsh, hen, pallid harriers, occasional merlin, long- or short-eared owls (a long-eared owl had been present a couple of days before), and peregrine.

We stopped to chat with a chap who was just leaving, and he explained that the Hume’s warbler had apparently gone AWOL. A few people were still claiming brief glimpses, but none were confident enough to report it again - the last confirmed sighting had been early that morning. We passed a guided group on the way and soon reached the copse where the bird had last been seen, joining more than a dozen birders already searching the area in hope and soon were joined by the guide and his followers.

Among the crowd under the trees we spotted Shaun Evans and his wife, and Des, our infrequent East Coast birding companion. We began working through the flocks, and, just as at Walsey Hills, there were plenty of goldcrests along with at least two yellow-browed warblers. After a while, Kev decided to head out onto the edge of the saltmarsh to see what else was about, while I stayed behind to continue the search for the Hume’s.

I continued to watch the yellow-browed warblers flitting through the tree canopy, and at one point one dropped lower through the branches to the side where Kev and Des were standing. I decided to join them, figuring the Hume’s had likely moved on, and if it reappeared, we’d hear the commotion and could return quickly.

Kev mentioned that, in addition to a buzzard passing through, he’d also seen a peregrine, which we later picked up again at long range through the scopes. He was slightly frustrated to learn that not long after he’d followed the buzzard, a honey buzzard had been reported a short way along the coast - possibly the same bird, though there was no way to be certain.

Out over the saltmarsh, marsh harriers drifted back and forth, both males and cream-crowned females quartering the area. One female passed close over a feeding group of golden plovers, sending them up in a tight, wheeling flock before they settled again and melted back into the marsh.

I spotted a raptor coming into view and called Kev over - it didn’t look like a marsh harrier. I thought it could be a hen harrier, identifiable by its striking white rump, though it remained too distant for even an attempt at a record shot. Later, a similar bird appeared, but before it could come closer, a curlew took exception and chased it off. The harrier clearly got the message and veered away, eventually disappearing from sight. We and the other birders were fairly confident that this was the recently returned pallid harrier, though my record shots were inconclusive at best.

We lingered for a while, hoping for better views of the pallid harrier, and wandered around the area, picking up stonechats, skylarks, pipits, kestrels, red kites, and a few more marsh harriers. Eventually, though, time was against us, and we began making our way back to the car.

Kev paused to point out a shaggy inkcap mushroom at the side of the track. Our friend Dave South has been posting photos of all sorts over the past couple of weeks - he really is a fun-guy. I couldn’t resist: I’ll get my coat!

It is a mushroom that’s hard to miss. Its tall, slender white cap is covered in distinctive shaggy scales, giving it the look of a lawyer’s wig, which is exactly where it got its nickname. Young mushrooms have white gills, but as they age these turn pink and eventually blacken into a liquid “ink”, a quirky trait that made them useful for writing back in the day. The hollow, white stem often features a movable ring, adding to its dramatic, almost architectural appearance.

Shaggy inkcaps are common across the UK, popping up in grasslands, roadside verges, lawns, and nutrient-rich wastelands, especially after a wet spell. They usually appear from late summer into autumn, often growing overnight in large clusters or singly.

For the adventurous forager, they’re edible when young, but don’t mix with alcohol, as some related species can cause a nasty reaction. Even if you’re just out for a walk, they’re a fun and photogenic find, perfect for a quick photo stop before getting back to birdwatching.

Halfway back to the car, we came across a flock of linnets, around 75–100 birds in the fields to our right. We watched them wheel back and forth in the air before eventually settling back onto the ground. We scanned through the flock, hoping to pick out the brambling that had been reported about an hour earlier, but if it was with them, it remained impossible to separate from the mass of linnets.

After the breeding season, linnets begin to gather into flocks, typically from late summer into early autumn. These post-breeding groups can range from a handful of birds to several hundred, offering more eyes to spot seeds in stubble fields, grasslands, and hedgerows. Flocking also provides safety in numbers, reducing the risk of predation by sparrowhawks, kestrels, and corvids, while allowing juvenile and adult birds to mix. These flocks often form ahead of the winter dispersal to lowland feeding areas.

Kev then drove us home, getting me back in time for food, a quick shower, and an evening out to visit friends.

Year list: 242.

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.