Ayrshire, Tay Reedbeds & RSPB Loch Garten :: 02 - 07 January 2025

The big reset had arrived, and my year list was back to zero. A handful of species spotted in the garden on New Year’s Day got things started, though it wasn’t the most inspiring beginning. Charlotte and I were heading north to visit my mum and youngest brother for a few days, and after a morning of driving, we reached Troon just before lunchtime. I’d heard reports of twite in the area and decided to stop by to see if I could find them. They’d been sighted near the sunken gardens overlooking South Bay and South Beach, seemingly unbothered by people nearby. Although I hadn’t seen any recent updates or photos, I figured it was worth a shot.

Twite populations have experienced notable declines, particularly in England, and breed in the upland moorlands of Scotland, Northern England, and parts of Wales. During winter, they migrate to coastal areas, forming flocks on saltmarshes and dunes. The sun had come out and so had the crowds, taking the air along the promenade - the 2nd of January is a public holiday in Scotland and is unique to Scotland, extending the New Year celebrations. We marched around the promenade watching for any finch sized species, heading east from the car park to the corner beyond the play park and then returned back to the car park. Not a sniff.

We decided to head up onto the wall to the west, where we quickly came across waders in the pools and on the rocks. The area was bustling with activity - oystercatchers and shags were plentiful on the rocks, joined by a couple of cormorants, redshanks, turnstones, and a few distant ringed plovers. Closer to us, larger groups of turnstones were busy foraging, but the real highlight was spotting half a dozen purple sandpipers, one of my absolute favourites. It was a treat to see them so early in the year. The bright sunlight made photography tricky, but we took our time to enjoy watching them as they foraged around.

We then spotted a few more purple sandpipers further out on the rocks – they are often seen feeding on rocky shores, especially as the tide approaches its peak; hide tide was only an hour away. This offered prime conditions for foraging as the rising water pushed marine invertebrates closer to the surface, making them more accessible.

Along the edge of the sunken garden, we came across an approachable rock pipit, with many more scattered along the promenade, feeding frantically. A lone grey wagtail flitted along the edge of the rocks.

We headed back toward the car, mindful of our plans to have lunch with my mum. As we neared the parking area, a bird caught my eye (in flight), its size was similar to the shags and gannets we’d seen earlier, but it looked distinctly different. A closer look through my bins confirmed it was a red-breasted merganser.

The next morning, after breakfast, Charlotte joined me for a trip to Stevenston Point, a spot where I usually tick off my first sanderling of the year. The cold wind had us wrapped up as we made our way along the beach. Before reaching the Point, we paused to scan the shoreline but found no sign of sanderlings or any other notable species. Pressing on, we arrived at the car park on the Point, where two cars were parked near the sea end. I recognised one of the people as Dougie Edmond, a knowledgeable and friendly local birder.

Dougie had just finished chatting with the driver of the other car as it departed and came over to greet us. He mentioned that he’d been up to RSPB Tayside Reedbeds searching for bearded tits but had dipped out, which was a bit concerning since we planned to visit there ourselves in a couple of days enroute to Aviemore. However, he’d managed to spot hawfinches on the way back, salvaging the trip from being a total loss, though it was his second consecutive dip for the bearded tits. After a quick remark about the biting cold, he said his goodbyes. Before he left, I asked about any recent sightings of sanderlings, but he hadn’t seen any, though he suggested they were probably around somewhere.

Charlotte and I carried on, walking down onto the beach and heading south. The shoreline and water’s edge were quiet, with nothing noteworthy in sight. On the rocks, however, we spotted some ringed plovers, a handful of dunlins, and a couple of redshanks. At the very tip of the Point, a single purple sandpiper stood preening among a group of redshanks.

We strolled along the beach as I scanned the water for any signs of bird activity. In the distance, a few gulls caught my eye, but then a male eider drifted into view. I tracked it for a while, though it remained far offshore. We paused several more times along the way until I noticed something slip beneath the waves. It took a few minutes of watching, but eventually, I caught a fleeting glimpse of it bobbing up and down in the water - a red-throated diver.

We reached a vantage point where I could see far along the shore, but there was still no sign of sanderlings or any other notable species. With that, we decided to head back to the car and make our way to visit my mum. As we departed, a curious grey seal surfaced, watching us as we left. The sanderlings had managed to elude me, making it the second species in two days to slip through my fingers ... a lovely walk with my wife though, and great views over to the snow-covered peaks of Arran.

We had lunch and dropped down to Dundonald Golf Club for coffee mid-afternoon.

The next morning, we set out from our hotel with plans to search for a Ross's goose at Raith Reservoir near Tarbolton. The bird had been reported associating with a flock of mainly Canada geese, along with a few greylags. Dougie had kindly provided guidance on two potential vantage points to see the bird. We tried both but found no geese near the reservoir, only gulls. A handful of ducks and gulls floated on the water, and we spotted a little grebe, but no sign of the Ross's goose.

We decided to check the fields southeast of the reservoir and eventually located a larger flock of geese. Unfortunately, despite careful scanning, our target bird was nowhere to be found.

The Ross's goose, a small white species native to North America and Canada, is a rare vagrant in the UK occasionally turning up in winter among flocks of barnacle or other geese. Smaller than a snow goose, it is recognised by its rounded head, short neck, and distinctive stubby bill with a greenish-blue base. We gave the search a couple of hours, but luck wasn’t on our side. With time pressing, we had to head back up the coast - our third dip in as many days ...

In the afternoon, we visited the Largs Yacht Haven and enjoyed a coffee at Scotts. While there, I got a message from Dougie letting me know that the Ross's goose had returned to the very field we’d spent hours scanning earlier. Damn. Unfortunately, going back wasn’t an option - we weren’t about to drag my mum and brother along for another wild goose chase.

The following day we popped up to see my mum for a couple of hours before we would set off for a couple of nights in Aviemore, stopping at RSPB Tay Reedbeds on the way. RSPB Tay Reedbeds is a significant nature reserve in Scotland, known for its extensive reedbed habitats along the River Tay estuary. It is one of the largest reedbeds in the UK and provides a critical home for a variety of wildlife, including specialised species. The reserve supports breeding birds such as reed buntings, water rails, and in the spring/summer months species such as sedge warblers. It is especially notable for elusive species such as bearded tits and bitterns. It was the bearded tits we hoped to see.

The reserve is not widely developed for public access, with limited visitor facilities, as its primary purpose is conservation. We parked up in Errol and walked down a footpath to the circular route that partly runs along the edge of the reedbed and parallel to the path of the Tay - the reedbed is enormous. We saw various corvids and then a small flock of meadow pipits. We walked along the path stopping regularly and saw lapwings, gulls and some flyover pink-footed geese.

We found the area that provides access into the reedbed and located several feed and grit trays set within the reeds. Moving along, we stopped near some channels, likely cut to attract and observe bearded tits, and waited there for a while, hoping to catch sight of or hear the calls of these elusive birds. As the light began to fade, our efforts went unrewarded - no calls, no movement, and no sightings. Four days, four dips.

We returned to the car and headed toward Aviemore, noticing the increasing frost and snow as we drove. By the time we arrived at teatime, darkness had fallen, and we settled in for dinner at our hotel. The next morning, we woke to find that only a little more snow had fallen overnight, but the roads presented a different challenge - ice combined with the snow made driving tricky. Progress was slow, and Charlotte grew increasingly nervous as we navigated the slippery conditions. Stopping was possible but required gentle, gradual effort.

Our destination was RSPB Loch Garten, where we hoped to catch sight of a crested tit. At this time of year, the Visitor Centre is unmanned, adding to the silence. Nestled in the heart of the Cairngorms National Park, Loch Garten is famous for its iconic osprey nest in the summer, but in winter, it offers a completely different experience. The reserve had transformed into a tranquil, snow-dusted haven, with serene landscapes and a hushed atmosphere - the loch had frozen, and snow had settled on the ice.

The snow began to fall more heavily as we left the car and ventured into the forest. Along the way, we spotted a handful of tits and a treecreeper, though the treecreeper didn’t linger long enough for a decent photo. A flock of coal tits caught our attention, and I scattered some seed on a nearby bench. We watched as the flock grew, the birds darting frantically between the trees and the bench before retreating to perch on bushes and branches. We held out hope that their activity might attract a crested tit, but no such luck. Overhead, a nuthatch called, but it stayed hidden from view. A jay called frequently, and I caught a glimpse as it flew through the trees and disappeared.

When we reached the Visitor Centre, we found a long nut feeder and took shelter from the snow to watch the flurry of activity. Coal tits, blue tits, great tits, long-tailed tits, and chaffinches flitted around in constant motion. Despite our efforts, there were still no calls or sightings of any crested tits. However, the views from the Centre, like the forest as a whole, were stunning and well worth the visit.

We worked further through the forest and found a few goldcrests working through the undergrowth and a handful more treecreepers. It was looking like we weren't going to find our bird and with the roads as they were and snow falling again it was unlikely we would go further into the forest or along these lanes and tracks in the car. We stayed, hoped and searched for around four hours. Charlotte was getting cold, and we decided to make our way back to Aviemore for a late lunch, seeing more of the forest dwellers as we returned. No crested tit, and zero for five ... lucky I am not on a big year!

We pulled into the car park at the retail park, planning to walk along the main street to find a spot for lunch. Just as I turned off the engine, I was surprised to see one of our closest friends across the car park, fresh from a food shopping trip. We knew she was staying in Kingussie but hadn’t expected to bump into her and her cousin there.

Delighted by the chance meeting, we were invited to join them for dinner that evening. Later, we carefully followed a snowplough as it cleared a path for us on the 10-mile journey to their cottage. It was a perfect way to round off our visit, enjoying a warm meal and great conversation with dear friends in a cozy and beautiful cottage.

New Hythe, Broadstairs & Old Hunstanton :: 27/28 December 2024

On Christmas Eve an American yellow warbler was found at New Hythe in Kent by local birder Glenn Honey - a remarkable sighting as the species is a very rare visitor to the UK - there have been approximately ten recorded sightings of this warbler in the UK ,according to BTO records. The majority of previous sightings have been in Shetland, including one in October 2023.

News spread rapidly, drawing birders from across the region. Over the following days, the site saw significant activity, with reports from Lee Evans estimating up to 400 birders seeing the bird each day - it was most inconvenient as over the Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day there was no chance of visiting myself.

At first light the bird would come from roost in some buddleias but soon disappear for a while, presumably into the sewage works to feed. The bird was then frequently seen in a small group of alder trees near a stream, bordering a sewage works, or in alders a hundred metres or so back down the footpath. It was actively foraging, flitting through branches and occasionally dropping down into brambles in front of the alders. Its vivid yellow plumage made it relatively easy to identify, despite its constant movement and gave some welcome colour to the festive period. On Boxing Day, the bird showed exceptionally well through most of the afternoon and appeared to be defending the alders from chiffchaffs and various tit species.

So on Boxing Day evening Kev @kev07713 and I had a chat and agreed that Friday would be the best day to visit, planning to meet a bit later in the morning since the bird was most active from midday onwards. I picked him up and I was pleasantly surprised to find that his wife Karen @karenheath62 had decided to join us. The journey went smoothly, and we stopped for a late breakfast just before reaching the bird’s location. Upon arriving at the car park, we were pleased to find an available space and parked across from our friend Nick Truby’s @old_caley car.

We followed the footpath from the car park, and after a short walk, we spotted a few people gathered ahead. As we got closer, the crowd grew larger until nearly 300 birders were assembled, waiting and watching. For the first time, the warbler hadn’t been seen emerging from its roost in buddleias that morning, sparking conversations among the group about the possibility that it had moved on. The overnight conditions had been foggy and cold across much of the region, so Kev, Nick, and I felt confident the bird was still around. We anticipated it would make an appearance later, likely around lunchtime or in the afternoon when conditions improved.

A sparrowhawk flew at distance and landed to our right, while chiffchaffs, goldcrests, and long-tailed tits began appearing, foraging among the alders. Not long after, the sparrowhawk landed in the alders themselves, scattering the few birds present - a disturbance and activity that might have been influencing the warbler’s behaviour as well. Rich Mooney, a familiar face from various birding sites, came over to say hello.

A while later, a call went up, and the group of birders moved as one toward the outfall; someone had heard the warbler's call. Upon arriving, we learned that a couple of people had also caught sight of it. Soon after, the warbler appeared, but I struggled to get a clear view before it disappeared from sight - not enough to ID and confidently count it as a tick. It briefly popped up again, but I had trouble locking onto it before it flew off strongly to the right, heading back toward the alders. Once more, the crowd moved in unison, returning to our earlier position.

When we got there the warbler now showed better although was flitting quickly and between branches, left to right and up and down. It was difficult to keep track of and made locking onto it with a camera particularly challenging. In between movements it would frequently stop behind denser twigs and woody cone-like fruits making detailed photos near impossible. We got a number of shots of it from behind but eventually a handful from the front - Nick suffered alongside me.

Within just a few minutes the bird was gone, and we had to wait a considerable time before it returned - it also showed in the alders further back along the track; at one point it dropped behind the brambles and when I saw movement I started snapping only to find it was a lovely firecrest. Finally, we followed the crowds as it worked back through the trees and down the footpath, eventually crossing and along a brook. We weren't being afforded the lengthy views of the day before but were happy to have had good if only brief views of an exceptional bird. See Nick's account of the day here (once you've finished mine!).

While we were waiting, news came through about a Scops owl that had been reported in the grounds of Broadstairs Cricket Club and present for the past five days, with confirmatory photographs. There was also information about an organised twitch scheduled for 4:30 pm; how often would we be so close to a Scops owl? We decided to pack up and head to Broadstairs (an hour away), feeling incredibly fortunate to be in the area. Nick and Anne Truby had already seen one 18 years ago and are planning a trip to Lesvos next year, where they would certainly encounter more, so they decided not to join us.

The Scops owl is a species native to southern Europe, the Middle East, and parts of North Africa. It’s a rare but regular visitor to the UK, typically recorded about once a year, primarily in spring and autumn. It’s more unusual to spot one at this time of year. These owls are often found in woodlands, farmland, and parks. As nocturnal hunters, they prey on insects and small vertebrates, and they are smaller than our native little owl, roughly the size of a starling (19–21 cm in length).

We grabbed some food which we ate on the way and arrived at the site, parking further down the avenue to avoid obstructing residents' driveways; though it meant a bit of a longer walk back, it was still close. We crossed the cricket pitch, careful to avoid the roped-off cricket square, and made our way through the fog to join a crowd of over a hundred birders. After waiting for over an hour, a call came from our left that the bird had been located using thermal imaging scopes; the group had grown to over 200. We watched, but didn’t see it - we did, however, unfortunately flush a tawny owl.

We all returned to the original spot, where the Scops Owl had just been found perched high in an oak tree. A birder had been designated to direct us to the owl’s location with a torch, aiming just off the bird to minimise disturbance. We had the chance to take photos and videos before the torch was switched off, with everyone confirming they had seen the owl. It was an incredible experience and a life tick for us all, and a 300th species for the year for Kev. The bird was then left to go about its business and the crowd dispersed. The journey home was longer as although we didn't stop, we encountered pockets of fog which required some higher levels of concentration.

The next morning, Kev picked me up, and we headed to Old Hunstanton in Norfolk to see if we could catch a glimpse of the Glaucous gull that had been feeding on a seal carcass on the beach. It would be a good sighting, as Kev hadn’t seen one in 2024, and it would nicely bookend the year for me, having spotted one in Saltcoats at the start of January. (account here).

We stopped in King's Lynn at our usual breakfast venue, arriving on the beach a little after 9.45am. We had bumped into another birder hoping to see the gull too and walked with him from the car, through the golf course, and onto the beach, turning right towards where the carcass lay. In just a couple of minutes we came across six shore (horned) larks - it was very cold and there was a stiff wind. Regardless we stopped and watched the larks as they foraged and hunkered down in the sand. Our companion tried to get closer to the birds and they took to the wing and were lost - that is usually my job!

We chatted with a chap Kev had met in a hide while unsuccessfully twitching for a bird, only to find out that he had seen the Glaucous gull just ten minutes earlier. We searched the area, but it wasn’t there. While scanning the surroundings, we spotted dunlin, sanderlings, knot, various other gulls, turnstone, redshank, oystercatchers, little egrets, and more. My feet were getting cold, as I’d made the wrong choice in footwear for the conditions - thinking that our friends had had to walk through water to see the bird and opted against just walking boots. So, we decided to retreat to the dunes, where we could watch from a distance, hoping the gull might return without us standing over the carcass. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop others: dog walkers, pedestrians, fellow birders, and dogs rolling on the carcass. It was a bit frustrating, but I guess the beach is for everyone ...

We spent several hours watching with pink-footed geese over, mostly concealed by the fog that rolled in and out, and stonechats. A party of eight long-tailed tits passed through and a bar-tailed-godwit dropped in to a pool in front of us.

As dusk approached, gulls and other waders began to gather for their roost, with high tide still nearly an hour away. We watched and hoped, enjoying great views of flocks of oystercatchers, knot, sanderling, and dunlin along the water's edge. However, as time passed, everything gradually settled down. With the light fading, it was time for us to pack up and head home. It had been a pleasant day of birdwatching, but it was a shame we didn’t manage to see our target species.

Year list: 254.

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 2025. Let’s hope for another cracking year of birding.

Bring on 2025!

RSPB Ouse Fen, Smithey Fen & Eyebrook Reservoir :: 21 December 2024

The weather forecast was grim, with rain and strong winds predicted. Despite this, Kev @kev07713 and I decided to give birding a try and headed to RSPB Ouse Fen, where a couple of water pipits had recently been reported. After stopping for breakfast on the way, we arrived at an empty car park - likely a result of the unappealing weather. Recent sightings of both a Glaucous gull and a female penduline tit had drawn our interest.

We started by scanning the large expanse of open water to the left of the car park, hoping the light drizzle wouldn’t turn into heavier rain, though the wind was expected to persist. Apart from some marsh harriers, we didn’t spot anything noteworthy and couldn’t locate the Glaucous gull.

Water pipits are typically winter visitors to the UK, arriving from their breeding grounds in the mountainous regions of Europe and Asia. They are most often found between October and March, favouring wetland habitats, such as marshes, reedbeds, and the edges of reservoirs. In their winter plumage, water pipits are brownish - grey above, with pale underparts that often have streaking on the breast. They appear less boldly marked than meadow or rock pipits.

We followed the track toward the area where the water pipits had been sighted, staying alert. Apart from a few tits and lapwings overhead, there was little activity. Turning onto the main reserve from the perimeter track, we soon heard the distinctive calls of bearded tits but despite their frequent calls, we couldn’t catch sight of one.

Then Kev picked up on a call - water pipit! We confirmed it using the Merlin app, which agreed with his identification. Moving back off the brow to the far side from where the call had originated, we waited. Within five minutes, our patience paid off as the bird flew up and further down the track. We quickly followed but it wasn't visible from there - we worked back and with the scope Kev picked it up on the edge of an island - by the time I got on it, the bird had taken flight, heading back toward where we’d initially heard it. We relocated again, and this time Kev spotted it near the edge of some reeds, fully out in the open. Generously, he stepped aside to let me take a look through the scope. After getting a good view, I quickly moved to raise my camera, but before I could focus, the bird was up and away again.

We watched the bird as it occasionally took to the air, and at one point, we spotted a second bird interacting with the first. Meanwhile, the calls of bearded tits persisted. Turning our attention to the reeds directly behind us, it became clear that one of the bearded tits was exceptionally close. And there it was in the base of the reeds, on the weed and working along picking up what appeared to be small insects or bugs. It worked left and up through the reeds, never getting higher than a couple of feet off the water while the reeds above swayed in the wind.

As quickly as it appeared, the bird vanished back into the reeds and out of sight. The calls of the bearded tits continued as we pressed on. Along the way, we met another birder heading in the opposite direction, who kindly pointed us to the spot where the penduline tit had been sighted and following his advice, we located areas of bulrushes - a habitat closely associated with this species, known for its affinity for reedbeds.

We paused to scan and listen, but neither saw nor heard anything noteworthy. Moving on, we encountered more patches of bulrushes, but there was no sign of activity around them. Eventually, we returned to the car park and met a couple who had just arrived. We directed them to the area where we had spotted the water pipits earlier.

Not long after they headed off and were lost from sight, the rain began to fall. Timing was on our side as we quickly packed up and took shelter in the car. From inside, we watched as the couple made their way back to their vehicle just as the rain turned heavier. We had been fortunate to finish our outing before the heavens truly opened.

We debated our next move and decided to try for the Caspian gulls reported earlier at Smithey Fen, with the added hope of possibly spotting the Glaucous gull. Upon arrival, we made our way to the main water feature, noting more than two dozen moorhens scurrying about in a nearby field.

As we approached, many of the closer gulls took to the air, seemingly wary of our presence, though we had kept our distance and stayed on the main track. A pair of red kites soared overhead, unsettling the lapwings and smaller gulls, while a green woodpecker flew across the track and into the field opposite the water.

We started to work through the gulls and spotted an adult Caspian and some other suspects of both adult and juveniles. There were quite a lot of gulls on the water and their peace was interrupted as a couple of Whooper swans dropped in - another four joining them quarter of an hour later. Patience and careful observation are often required to pick them out among large gatherings and although Kev and I have the patience we still struggle - I still hate gulls - they are hard given the variations with age and lack of ID confirmation with experienced gullers in the field.

Caspian gulls are a relatively recent addition to the UK's list, with sightings most common from November to February. They can be challenging to identify due to their similarity to other large gulls, particularly herring and yellow-legged gulls. They are slender and elongated compared to herring gulls, with a proportionally smaller head and a more upright posture. Their head is white with fine streaking during winter; in juveniles, the head appears pale with a contrasting dark eye mask.

The lady from the couple we'd seen at Ouse Fen appeared and we continued through the birds, still hoping the Glaucous would appear. It didn't and we left happy - I'd had a good day with two year ticks.

On Monday morning, while on holiday from work and with Charlotte off playing Pickleball, I took the opportunity to head out and try my luck with the smew at Euebrook Reservoir, one that Kev and I had missed a couple of weeks earlier. The drive was uneventful, and I arrived at the spot where the smew were reported to frequent. Recent sightings suggested 2–3 drakes had been present the previous day.

I scanned the area but couldn’t locate any. Hoping for better luck, I walked along the road to the southern end of the reservoir but still came up empty-handed. A buzzard perched in a bush caught my eye, though I didn’t bother with a photo as it was well-hidden behind a tangle of twigs. A kestrel in a nearby tree, however, made for a more appealing subject.

As I made my way back to the car and the original viewing spot, I noticed three bullfinches feeding in the hedge. They flitted along as I passed, leaving me hopeful that I might yet spot the elusive smew.

As I reached the area there was a gap cut in the hedge that allowed me to scan on the opposite side of the island - I'd viewed from here on the way out but now I could see two drake smew - tick. They are such handsome ducks. The smew is a relatively rare winter visitor to the UK, known for its striking appearance and elusive nature. It is a small, diving duck that migrates from its breeding grounds in the forests of northern Europe and Russia to spend the winter in more temperate areas. The adult drake smew is particularly eye-catching, with a striking black and white plumage, a bold black "mask" around its eyes, and a white body. Its black wings are tipped with white, and it has a slender, sharp bill. This reservoir is a well-known location for spotting smew during the winter months. They are often spotted in the deeper parts of the reservoir, where they can dive and forage for fish and invertebrates. I watched for as long as I could before I needed to leave for lunch with the family.

As I was packing up, I spotted an otter beyond the ducks and other waterfowl. It was diving frequently, resurfacing each time in a rather exagerated way. I watched as it moved from right to left, eventually losing sight of it as it likely traveled underwater. It was a fantastic way to end the visit.

Year list: 252.