Another return to Spurn :: 07 November 2026

When you stop and think about it, until quite recently I had never even visited Spurn, yet I’ve now been there three times in the space of a month! At last, we’ve had a more prolonged spell of easterly winds, bringing with them a noticeable arrival of some of the autumn migrants we’ve been hoping for.

At this time of year, a decent run of easterlies is always something to get excited about, particularly along the east coast. These winds can bring migrants across the North Sea, pushing them towards our shores and, in some cases, encouraging them to drop in and stay awhile. Spurn, with its exposed position on the Yorkshire coast, is ideally placed to benefit from these arrivals.

The change in conditions became apparent at the beginning of November, initially with north-easterlies before the wind settled into a more persistent easterly and south-easterly direction. As the week progressed, the winds strengthened, accompanied by plenty of cloud cover and occasional rain. It's this combination of conditions that can make autumn birding at Spurn so exciting. Birds making the crossing from the continent can find themselves arriving on our coastline, sometimes in good numbers and occasionally bringing along something a little more unusual. The Observatory sightings certainly suggested that the change in wind direction had not gone unnoticed, with a welcome influx of some of the scarcer migrants we've been hoping to see.

As is often the case, these favourable conditions were never going to last indefinitely, and by the weekend the wind had begun to swing back towards the west. Nevertheless, for a few days at least, we finally had a taste of the sort of autumn weather that can make Spurn such a special place to visit. After so much waiting, it was good to see those easterlies finally deliver!

Friday was an exceptional day at Spurn, with the easterly winds continuing to deliver an impressive selection of scarce and rare migrants. There was plenty to keep visiting birders occupied, with two desert wheatears providing one of the main highlights. A smart new male had appeared at the Gas Terminal, joining the female that remained around the Point. The Eastern Bonelli's warbler was also confirmed by its calls, although it had apparently proved frustratingly elusive, being seen on only a couple of occasions. There was no further sign of the much-talked-about Taiga flycatcher, which had been showing well the previous day.

There was still plenty more to enjoy, including the female pied wheatear and an Amur Siberian stonechat, both around Sammy's Point, while a Hume's Warbler continued to show in the Crown & Anchor area. Three Pallas's Warblers were scattered around, with two Siberian chiffchaffs also present. Elsewhere, a rough-legged buzzard provided another exciting addition to some year lists, being mobbed at one point by five short-eared owls and a hen harrier. Eight shore larks remained at Beacon Ponds, alongside two snow buntings, while the supporting cast included woodcocks, firecrest, ring ouzels, bramblings and good numbers of redwings, fieldfares and blackbirds. It was quite a list.

With mist and fog forecast, along with a generally overcast sky, there was every chance that some of the birds might hang around for another day. With that in mind, Kev @kev07713 and I were on the road by 4.00am on Saturday morning, keen to make the most of the conditions - we had blankets of fog on the way but as we got further north this gradually disappated. Given the impressive selection of birds present, it seemed sensible to start the day at Sammy’s Point, where both the Amur Siberian stonechat and pied wheatear had been seen the previous day.

As we got out of the car and started getting ourselves organised, a familiar voice called out from behind us. Three other birders were also getting out of their car and sorting their gear when I heard, "Hi Kyle!" It was Matt Dineen @mattdenial.bsky.social, along with two of his birding mates. What a small world it is! No matter where you seem to end up in the country, there's always a good chance of bumping into someone you know from the birding world.

We set off along the track, but there was initially no sign of either the Amur stonechat or the pied wheatear. We continued scanning carefully, keeping an eye on both sides of the track, from the rocks and beach to the fields on the landward side, hoping for any sign of movement. At one point, a bird flew low over the beach and dropped onto some stones out in the water. A quick look through the scopes revealed a male black redstart. By the time we reached a small group of birders further along the track, we discovered that they had been watching the same bird on the beach by them, although it had since disappeared. We were able to let them know it had flown along the beach and out over the water, rather than remaining in the area where they had last seen it.

As we made our way along the track, a woodcock suddenly flushed from the undergrowth behind us and shot past at speed. It was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving me with barely enough time to raise the camera, let alone get a photograph.

Then news came through that the Amur stonechat had been relocated. As birders began to gather further ahead, it wasn't particularly difficult to work out where we needed to be! Joining the growing group, we soon got our views and, more importantly, our tick - a lifer for us. With the initial excitement over, we were able to spend some time enjoying the bird properly as it worked its way along the field, frequently perching on grass stems and low bushes. A fantastic start to the morning and a very welcome addition to our life lists.

This is the Amur form of Siberian stonechat, originating from the far east of Asia, and a very welcome visitor to our shores. It was a cracking-looking bird, with a distinctive dark head, orange tones to the breast and a contrasting pale collar and rump. It was a real pleasure to watch as it worked its way along the field, frequently dropping onto grass stems and low bushes, giving some excellent views as it searched for insects.

This species is a rather subtle but attractive bird in its autumn plumage. It had a warm brown crown, and a creamy-white throat contrasting nicely with the soft peachy-orange tones across the breast. The upperparts were predominantly brown, with darker centres to the feathers giving a streaked appearance, while the wings showed some lovely pale buff edging to the darker flight feathers. From behind, the warmer brown rump contrasted with the noticeably darker tail. It was a bird that rewarded a little time spent watching and studying it, particularly as it moved around the field, offering different views of its plumage.

We had moved further along the track, keeping an eye on the stonechat, when someone called out that a Richard's pipit had flown overhead, and picked up on call by Kristian Wade

@kristianwade_. By the time I managed to pick it up, it had already dropped into the field ahead and was making its way through the grass. Watching it was fascinating, although keeping track of it proved quite a challenge. Richard's pipits can be surprisingly elusive when feeding in long grass, often disappearing almost completely from view as they work their way through the vegetation. Its movements reminded me very much of a mouse scurrying through the grass, weaving quickly between the tufts and only occasionally popping its head up or briefly emerging into view. Just when you thought you'd lost it, there it was again, moving a little further along before disappearing back into the vegetation. It was an entertaining bird to watch and another excellent find to add to what was already turning into a very memorable morning.

Eventually with the pied wheatear seemingly having moved on we decided to make our way back to the car and relocate to the Crown & Anchor and churchyard to see if we could find the Pallas's and Hume's warblers that had been seen there that morning. We joined a group of birders in the pub car park and soon saw the Pallas's warbler in the trees between the car park and the road. Beside us were Andy Stockhausen @andy-1963.bsky.social and a young birder James Dickinson @kidphotographer24.bsky.social

Pallas's warblers are incredibly active little birds, constantly working their way through the trees and dense brambles in search of food. Rarely staying in one place for more than a few seconds, they flit from branch to branch, picking tiny insects and spiders from leaves and twigs. They frequently move upside down beneath the foliage, briefly hover to inspect a leaf or make short darting flights to catch an insect. Their restless movements and frequent wing flicks make them fascinating to watch, although getting a clear view can be something of a challenge. Just as you get them in the binoculars or camera lens, they're off again, reappearing a little further along in the next tangle of branches.

After spending some time watching the bird, it gradually worked its way through the trees and we decided to leave the car park and view it from the other side of the road, where it looked as though we might get better views. This proved to be a good move, as we enjoyed some excellent views of the Pallas's warbler, along with chiffchaffs and firecrest. However, with the birds now appearing much closer than before, I was beginning to regret having the teleconverter fitted to my lens. Trying to acquire focus on these fast-moving little birds was proving quite a challenge, and just as I managed to get one in the viewfinder, it would invariably be off again, flitting through the branches!

We made a stop at Kilnsea churchyard in the hope of catching up with the Hume's warbler reported there, but there was no sign of it. We also checked the hedge on the walk back towards the Crown and Anchor but again drew a blank. With this target eluding us, we started to consider where best to head next and how to make the most of the remaining time.

Then news broke that the Eastern Bonelli's warbler had been reported at Easington. This was one of the most intriguing discoveries of the previous week at Spurn, having first been reported on Thursday. Initially logged simply as a Bonelli's warbler species, its identity was subsequently confirmed as an Eastern Bonelli's warbler following further observations and, importantly, the identification of its distinctive calls by observers. This was an exciting find, as separating Eastern from Western Bonelli's warbler is particularly challenging, especially when views are brief and inconclusive.

The bird had proved frustratingly elusive, favouring an apple tree in an Easington garden and only showing briefly on Friday. However, its calls provided the additional evidence needed to confirm its identity - hopefully this will be accepted. As is often the case with these scarce autumn migrants, locating the bird is only half the battle; actually, getting a decent view of it was going to be another challenge! With news of its continued presence, we decided it was certainly worth investigating.

We arrived at the site to find that a couple of dozen birders were already gathered, with the bird apparently showing. We quickly scanned the tree in the direction being indicated and, sure enough, there it was! A lifer for both of us, and I suspect for many of the other birders gathered there too.

In appearance, the Eastern Bonelli's warbler is a fairly subtle bird, with rather plain greyish-green upperparts contrasting beautifully with its clean, silky-white underparts. There is a slight greenish tinge to the rump and wing edges, while the face has a fine pale supercilium above the dark eye. Its overall appearance is quite understated, lacking the brighter and more obvious markings of some of our other warblers. Nevertheless, it's a smart little bird, and one where the finer details are well worth taking the time to appreciate. Another excellent addition to the weekend's growing list of birds!

The farmer had asked that nobody enter the field until the bird had been located and he had given permission, so for the time being we had to make do with views from the roadside, looking through the trees. While we were there, we caught up with Ewan Urquhart @Stormvogel99 and Tom Hines @tomhines10, who explained that it was Ewan who had originally spotted and reported the bird. Both had been there early and watching the tree, waiting to see if the bird would return.

Oli Beacock @oli_beacock then appeared, and we discovered that he had been on site from first light and had eventually been joined by Ewan and Tom, but after spending several hours looking without success, had decided to move on and try his luck elsewhere. As luck would have it, he had only left around 20 minutes before Ewan relocated the bird. Now desperate to get a proper look at the bird, he worked his way into a position where he could finally secure his tick, returning with a huge sense of relief. He certainly deserved it after all the effort he had already put in! There was also a chap enthusiastically guiding people towards the bird, giving directions based largely on its position in the apple tree and its relationship to the shed underneath.

While I was watching, Gary Watton @GaryWatton1 and his wife joined us for a chat and they too were successful in getting some good views. Thankfully, the weather was a little kinder this time, at least it wasn't raining like it had been on my last meeting with Gary at Clifford Hill CP for the American (buff-bellied) pipit, when we had both ended up absolutely soaked!

While watching the tree, we were treated to a supporting cast of other species making the most of the apples and, presumably, the insects attracted to them. Blackbirds, blackcaps and blue tits were regular visitors, along with the occasional chiffchaff, all taking advantage of what the tree had to offer.

Having spoken to Rob Hunton, we discovered that they were still having difficulty contacting the farmer to obtain permission for birders to enter the field. The plan was that, once permission had been secured, an update would be posted on the Spurn WhatsApp groups. With no immediate prospect of getting any closer views, we eventually decided to move on and head down to Bluebell, where twite had been reported flying south earlier that morning. This was another species I was particularly keen to catch up with, as I still needed it for my year list.

We arrived at the Bluebell car park and headed out towards the beach, scanning the shoreline and the sea for any signs of activity. As we turned left, we joined another birder watching a short-eared owl that had just come in off the sea and was circling high above the Sandy Beaches caravan park. It completed a couple of circuits before turning back out over the water and heading down the coast in the direction of the Warren. An unexpected bonus!

We continued our walk along the coast but decided against going all the way to the Warren and the sea watching hut. Instead, we dropped down onto the lane towards the Discovery Centre, picking up a few linnets along the way, although there was no sign of any twite amongst them. As we were making our way back towards the car, news came through that access had finally been granted to the field where the Eastern Bonelli's warbler was showing. That was enough to prompt a change of plan, and we quickly jumped back into the car and headed back to Easington in the hope of getting some better views of the bird.

This time, birders had been allowed into the field and were lined up facing the apple tree. Initially, there was no sign of the bird, and to make matters worse, the rain started to fall. We found ourselves at the end of the line, furthest away from the shelter of the tree line, so it wasn't the most comfortable of viewing positions - a few people around us were standing under their umbrellas. Gradually, a few more people joined us at our end, including Matt Dineen and his friends, as well as Pete Webster, a birder we seemed to have bumped into on each of our visits to Spurn.

The wait was a little longer than we'd hoped, but eventually the bird did the decent thing and showed itself reasonably well. It was still spending most of its time working through the tree, frequently disappearing behind leaves or only offering partially obscured views, but at least we were now closer than we had been from the roadside. Kev provided an excellent running commentary, directing everyone to the bird's position relative to a particular "pink apple". This was much appreciated by those gathered around him, as keeping track of such a mobile little bird in a busy tree was no easy task.

Although we were closer, it was still far from an ideal photographic opportunity. The combination of poor light, increasingly gloomy skies and rain made getting sharp images particularly challenging, with the need to push the ISO resulting in the inevitable risk of noisy photographs. Nevertheless, we had managed some considerably better views than earlier in the morning, and it was good to spend a little more time watching this rather special visitor.

As the rain began to ease, we took one final look around before deciding to head over to Easington Cemetery, where another Hume's warbler had been reported. We parked up and made our way down the lane, stopping to chat with another birder along the way. During the conversation, we mentioned that birders at the cemetery had told him the Hume's warbler had already departed, having flown up the lane in our direction. As it turned out, Matt and his friends were making their way towards us, presumably having also missed the bird, which seemed to have disappeared around half an hour earlier.

We finished off the day birding around Easington, but without adding anything else of particular note. Before long, it was time to call it a day, return to the car, eat our sandwiches and begin the journey home. Despite missing out on a couple of our hoped-for birds, we had enjoyed two lifers and added a couple of other species to the year list. All in all, another excellent visit to Spurn, which is finally beginning to deliver now that those much-anticipated easterly winds have arrived. Let's hope they bring a few more surprises before the autumn is over.

Year list: 307 (BUBO), 313 (mine).

Back in Yorkshire :: 28 October 2026

Kev @kev07713 got in touch to say that he and his wife, Karen, were planning a trip to Mundesley on Wednesday to see the nutcracker, followed by a visit to Cley to catch up with the desert wheatear if it was still around. Both would be lifers for Karen. He kindly invited me to join them, but having already amassed plenty of photographs of both species, I thought I might see what else I could find to visit.

Eventually, though, I succumbed to the temptation of the rufous-tailed robin at Flamborough Head. I also knew that a Pallas's warbler had been showing at RSPB Bempton Cliffs, providing a useful back-up plan should either bird depart overnight.

The only slight drawback was that the robin had been showing best at dawn and dusk, with some amazing views for an hour at dawn the previous day. An early start was clearly on the cards. I duly set off at 2.10am and, unsurprisingly, the traffic was light - unlike the sky!

Once we'd left the motorways and dual carriageways behind, I found myself following the same car for many miles, eventually turning into the car park directly behind it, in a line of four cars arriving together. Getting to the parking spot had presented a few challenges, not least negotiating some sizeable potholes in the darkness - it was still before 5.30am.

As I was changing my shoes, Kev called to see how my journey was going. He was surprised to hear that I was already there, as he was only just approaching the A14 and making good progress on his way to Norfolk. He knew how keen I would be to get into the area where the robin had been showing, and although dawn wasn't expected until around 6.15am, with sunrise another half-hour later, there was always the desire to secure a good position before the light arrived. If the bird repeated its performance from the previous day, those in place early could be rewarded with some excellent views.

After paying for parking, I joined the chap whose car I'd been following and we made our way down through the field, eventually picking up the trail towards the gully and track where the recent sightings had been reported.

The rufous-tailed robin ia an exceptionally rare visitor from eastern Asia, is a species that very few people in Britain have been fortunate enough to see, making the discovery of one at Flamborough Head an event of considerable excitement - it is the sixth recorded in Britain. Views had been generally tricky and some of the birders around me were returning as they had dipped on a number of previous occasions.

The species breeds in central and eastern Siberia, extending into north-eastern China and northern Japan, favouring damp woodland with dense undergrowth. It migrates south for the winter, spending much of that time in southern China and south-east Asia. A bird turning up on the east coast of Britain has therefore strayed a considerable distance from its normal migration route.

Despite its name, the rufous-tailed robin is not particularly similar in appearance to our familiar European robin. It is a small, rather unobtrusive bird, measuring approximately 13–14cm in length. Its upperparts are olive-brown, contrasting with a distinctive warm rufous tail, while the underparts are whitish, with attractive greyish, scalloped markings across the breast and flanks. It has pinkish legs and a relatively subtle facial pattern. One characteristic behaviour is its habit of quivering its tail, although it is often said to be difficult to appreciate this when the bird spends so much of its time concealed in dense cover.

When we arrived at the gully, around 20 people were already gathered, keeping their distance from the area beyond the bench where the robin had performed so well the previous day. Four birders joined, standing at the top of the slope, and we later learned that at least one of them had been there the previous evening. He was convinced that he had seen the robin disappear into some brambles to the side of the bench to roost. From their vantage point on the slope, they would have had an excellent view of the spot.

As dawn approached, the gathering crowd had grown to around 50 people. A robin suddenly appeared on the path, prompting a brief flurry of excitement, although it was, of course, one of our familiar European robins rather than the bird we had all travelled to see.

With the arrival of daylight, the woodland gradually began to stir, and bird calls could be heard all around us. A bullfinch, several robins, blue and great tits, a wren, dunnock, blackbird and chaffinch all put in an appearance, but there was still no sign of the rufous-tailed robin.

As the light slowly filtered through the trees, one of the birders behind me picked out a small bird at the foot of a tree. He thought he had spotted a mottled breast and suggested that it might eventually emerge into view. Others were calling it as a wren, but when I managed to get onto it, I thought it looked more like a robin than a wren. There were certainly wrens in the vicinity, at times interacting with a robin, which only added to the uncertainty.

Nothing materialised, however, and as the minutes ticked by, attention gradually shifted towards the gully below the fence. People began spreading out along the fence line, concentrating on the moss-covered log that had provided regular sightings of the elusive visitor during the previous week. It was becoming increasingly clear that we were in for a frustrating morning.

I noticed that the slender-billed nutcracker had been reported and sent Kev a message, suggesting that he was probably having rather more success than me, as my chosen bird had so far failed to appear.

After three and a half hours without any sign, I decided that the odds were beginning to look rather poor. With news that the Pallas's warbler had been reported at RSPB Bempton Cliffs, I opted to cut my losses and head there instead but would still be in the vicinity should the robin be relocated.

As it turned out, the decision was perhaps more significant than I realised at the time. The rufous-tailed robin was not seen again that day, nor did it reappear in the days that followed. My opportunity to see this remarkable visitor had come and gone.

I arrived at RSPB Bempton Cliffs and immediately went in search of the Pallas's warbler as quite a few others seem to have done. I found the group of birders, and they seemed to have just had views, but the bird had retreated into a dense area of hawthorn. I worked round the area and found a birder who soon called the bird in the top of a relatively bare tree - my camera settings were still left as I'd set them for the robin and my pictures against the sky were next to useless and the bird nothing more than a silhouette. I'd hopefully get more views.

The Pallas's warbler is a tiny but striking migrant, breeding in the coniferous forests of Siberia and parts of northern China before migrating south-eastwards to winter in southern China and South-East Asia. Britain lies well off its normal migration route, and birds arriving here are generally thought to have been displaced westwards during autumn migration, often helped by easterly winds.

Measuring just 9–10cm, it is one of our smallest warblers, but its bright green upperparts, yellow crown stripe, prominent eyebrow, twin wing-bars and distinctive yellow rump make it particularly attractive. Although once an exceptional rarity, it is now an almost annual autumn visitor. Some autumns produce a handful, while others bring significant arrivals, particularly along the east coast during October and November.

It had been present at RSPB Bempton Cliffs for several days, favouring the scrub and vegetation around the visitor centre and car park, where it was providing some good opportunities for those hoping to see and photograph this attractive little Siberian visitor. However, I was now reminded of how difficult it can be to photograph these little sprites as they work through at pace. constantly on the move as they search for tiny insects and other invertebrates among leaves, twigs and branches.

Their feeding style is rather flycatcher-like, as they flit rapidly through the vegetation, often hovering briefly to inspect the underside of leaves or picking insects from foliage and branches. They rarely remain still for long, frequently flicking their wings and tail as they work methodically through the bushes. Their agility and almost restless behaviour make them fascinate to watch.

I followed the Pallas's warbler as it worked its way through the vegetation, occasionally disappearing and leaving us waiting patiently until one of us managed to locate it again. I rather enjoyed the challenge, but during a quick check for any news of the rufous-tailed robin, I noticed that an Isabelline shrike had been reported at Out Newton. This would be a lifer for me, and somewhat frustratingly, the bird had chosen to put in an appearance just after I had left Spurn a week earlier.

Out Newton was almost an hour and a half away, which would leave me with a similar journey home to the one I was already facing. However, I still had plenty of time, so the decision was relatively easy. I grabbed a sandwich from the café and set off for Out Newton, with another new bird firmly in my sights.

I arrived at the farm where the sightings had been reported and immediately spotted three birders with scopes and cameras. That was a reassuring sign that I was in the right place.

Isabelline shrikes are a very scarce visitor to Britain, with usually only a handful of records in a typical year. It breeds across the dry, open landscapes of Central Asia, Mongolia and western China, migrating south for the winter. Britain lies well outside its normal range, making any arrival an exciting find. Identification can be complicated, particularly with first-winter birds, as the closely related Daurian and Turkestan shrikes are difficult to distinguish - I think the jury is still out on this one.

It was initially identified as an Isabelline shrike, presumed to be of the Daurian form, although the precise identification required some caution. For me, it was an especially exciting discovery as it represents a lifer regardless. Having missed its arrival at Spurn the previous week, I was delighted to find that it was still present and, even better, showing well enough to provide some excellent opportunities for photographs and video.

After parking safely, I joined them and discovered that the bird was in view. Almost on cue, it hopped out into a more open position, giving us some excellent views. It was quite mobile, moving around regularly, but fortunately kept returning to the same area. Photographing it proved considerably easier than the earlier encounter with the Pallas's warbler, and it even remained perched for long enough to allow me to capture some video as well as a good selection of photographs.

After a while, instead of flying over to the far hedge at the other end of the compound, the shrike flew to the much closer end, providing even better views and some fantastic photographic opportunities. It was a wonderful way to experience a lifer, particularly an infrequent visitor that I’d been unable to catch up with until now.

It’s been a pretty good year for shrikes, too, with great grey, two long-tailed, two woodchat, red-backed and now this Isabelline shrike added to my year list - 3 of these species were lifers.

With at least a three-and-a-half-hour journey home ahead of me, it was time to pack up and hit the road. On the way back, I caught up with Kev and Karen over the phone and discovered that they hadn’t seen the nutcracker all day - it had simply vanished. To make matters worse, the desert wheatear had also disappeared. I was absolutely gutted for them, especially after all the effort they’d put in. But that’s birding for you - you can plan, travel and wait all day, but you can never guarantee a result. You just can't get them all.

Year list: 309 (mine), 303 (BUBO).

Norfolk Coast :: 25 October 2026

Every so often, nature produces a remarkable spectacle, and the westward irruption of northern nutcrackers is a perfect example. Normally they are inhabitants of the vast coniferous forests of Siberia and northern Asia, but these distinctive, white-spotted members of the crow family can suddenly appear thousands of miles beyond their usual range.

The reason behind these extraordinary movements is largely down to food availability. Nutcrackers depend heavily on pine seeds, particularly those of the Siberian Stone Pine. They are expert food hoarders, collecting seeds during autumn and burying them in thousands of separate caches to sustain themselves through the winter. However, when pine-cone crops fail, food becomes scarce and large numbers of birds are forced to leave their familiar territories in search of alternative supplies.

These mass movements (irruptions) can carry birds westwards across Russia, Scandinavia and the Baltic countries, eventually reaching Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium and very very occasionally Britain.

One of the most spectacular examples occurred in 1968, when thousands of slender-billed Siberian Nutcrackers moved west across Europe. Britain experienced an exceptional influx, with more than 300 birds recorded across the country. The event remains one of the most memorable bird invasions in British ornithological history.

The last truly memorable, long-staying British nutcracker was at Cocknage Wood, Staffordshire, in autumn 1991. It remained from 14 October until 9 November, delighting birdwatchers with its remarkably confiding behaviour. Although there were subsequent sightings, including one in Kent in 1998 and another in Scotland in 2021, none generated quite the same opportunity for birdwatchers to enjoy this elusive Siberian visitor.

The 2026 influx has captured the imagination of birders. Significant numbers have been reported moving through continental Europe, with birds reaching the Netherlands and Belgium but with unfavourable winds there has been little opportunity for them to make the hop across into Britain. Their arrival has revived memories of previous invasions and raised the exciting possibility of another memorable autumn for birdwatchers. What we need is favourable winds.

Movement gathered momentum during September, as birds of the irruptive Siberian subspecies, commonly known as the slender-billed northern nutcracker, spread westwards into Scandinavia and beyond. By the end of the month, double-figure counts had been recorded in the Netherlands, while German migration hotspots were reporting daily totals exceeding 50 birds.

During the brief spell of easterly winds, while we were at Spurn, conversation inevitably turned to what we would do if a nutcracker was reported. Should we stay or should we go? The general feeling was that, if one did appear, Norfolk or somewhere further south along the coast would be the most likely destination. As it happened, the easterlies produced no immediate reports, and we were able to bring our Spurn trip to a close without having to make that all-important decision!

Then came the exciting news for British birdwatchers - the arrival of a nutcracker in Norfolk was reported. The bird had already been discovered at Mundesley in Norfolk, although news of its arrival was not immediately circulated. The delay was apparently due to the county recorder being away and travelling to Thailand, meaning that the discovery remained under wraps for a little longer than might otherwise have been expected.

Kev @kev07713 and I had postponed our weekend birding trip until Sunday, a decision that now seemed to have worked perfectly in our favour, provided, of course, that the bird remained overnight. We set off at 5.00am, but almost immediately our plans suffered a minor setback. As I pulled away from Kev's drive, an unusual noise became apparent as the wheels turned. We jumped out, torches in hand, to investigate, before trying a short drive of a few hundred yards, but the noise persisted.

We headed back towards Kev's house, bumped the car over the kerb and tried again. This time, thankfully, the noise had disappeared. Perhaps a stick or stone had become lodged somewhere as I reversed onto the drive. It had been a windy spell, after all, and debris was scattered across roads and gardens. Whatever the cause, it seemed to have worked itself free.

With a delay of around 15 minutes, we were finally on our way. Fortunately, the roads were kind to us and we covered the journey in just over three hours, with the excitement of what might await us at Mundesley building all the time.

When news of the nutcracker had first broken the previous day, it was reported as frequenting Trunch Road. However, as we drew closer to Mundesley, further updates suggested it was showing well in the trees along Water Lane. We adjusted our parking destination accordingly and arrived to find a gathering of birders close to a small wooden bridge, all eyes fixed on the surrounding trees. Even before reaching the bridge, we caught sight of our bird. Within moments we had crossed over and were enjoying our first views, cameras very much at the ready!

One of the more intriguing aspects of the bird's behaviour was its apparent liking for wasps. It was regularly seen catching them among the trees before expertly dealing with its prey and swallowing it. An unusual addition to the diet perhaps, but clearly a food source it had taken quite a liking to!

Among the familiar faces gathered to watch the bird was Wayne Glossop @WayneGlossop2, capturing images through his scope. Harriet Day @harriet_day joined us shortly afterwards, and we all enjoyed some excellent views as the nutcracker moved around the trees in front of us. We could also Lee Evans at the front of the crowd.

Then, quite suddenly, it took flight and landed on a nearby rooftop, settling along the gutter at the front edge. Its fondness for wasps continued, as it picked them off before making occasional sorties to the roof of the neighbouring building, gradually moving further to the right. Eventually, it flew onto another rooftop and disappeared.

We waited patiently for its return, but in the meantime a local resident came along collecting donations for the village's inshore lifeboat, an appeal that most of the assembled birders were more than happy to support. He was also able to add an interesting piece of local knowledge, explaining that he had seen the nutcracker on the roof of his own garage. He suggested taking a walk around the nearby estate, where the bird might be encountered in gardens or trees.

With Harriet joining us, we decided to follow his advice. We soon came across another group of birders doing the same, although our timing was frustratingly poor. We arrived just after the nutcracker had departed, having apparently flown back in the direction from which we had originally come. It seemed we were destined to keep moving if we wanted to continue seeing this visitor.

Returning to the trees where we had enjoyed our earlier views, we were pleased to discover that the nutcracker had reappeared and was once again putting on a show. We rejoined the gathering of waiting birders and settled down to enjoy its antics.

Meanwhile, Wayne was chatting with the local gentleman collecting donations for the inshore lifeboat. It transpired that Wayne was in the process of setting up a JustGiving Crowdfunding page, allowing visiting birders to contribute towards this worthwhile local cause without using cash in the basket. A link to the fundraising page is included in the embedded post below. When I last looked £1,740 had been donated using the page with further donations given in person.

✅️💥NORTHERN NUTCRACKER💥✅️ ✅️💥JUSTGIVING💥✅️ I have set up a JustGiving page to help raise money for the Inshore Lifeboat at Mundesley. If anybody would like to donate to this cause please see link below. https://t.co/Q46vd5gg4P @BirdGuides #TwitchingTheUkandIreland https://t.co/RmwUBXiBE5

— Wayne Glossop (@WayneGlossop2) October 25, 2026

Birders continued to arrive and depart throughout the morning, and having enjoyed some excellent views ourselves, we felt we had probably secured enough photographs to call it a success. We decided it was time to move on, hopefully easing the pressure on the site for those still waiting to see the nutcracker. Our next target, should the nutcracker have departed, was a desert wheatear that had been showing exceptionally well on Cley Beach. Conveniently, a fresh report had just confirmed that it was still present and performing nicely. With that encouraging news, we packed up and headed off towards Cley stopping only to watch the nutcracker through a hedge where it had relocated to.

We arrived at the Cley Beach car park and set off along the beach, with the wind howling around us. At least it was behind us for the outward walk, although we knew we would have it straight in our faces on the return journey. A group of birders was visible ahead and we naturally assumed they had the desert wheatear in view. However, still almost 100 metres short of the group, a birder began waving his arms, signalling that the bird was actually on the ground just in front of him. We were clearly in the right place and quickly homed in on our bird, getting straight onto the desert wheatear. It alternated between perching on posts and wires, and the ground.

The desert wheatear is a scarce but quite regular autumn visitor to Britain, with an average of around four or five birds recorded annually. Numbers can vary considerably, however, with occasional influxes producing higher totals. The species originates from the arid landscapes of North Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia, making its appearance on the Norfolk coastline particularly interesting.

Our bird at Cley was a handsome first-winter male, initially discovered along the Eye Field fence before moving around the beach area. Its sandy-buff plumage, contrasting darker wings and distinctive tail markings makes it an attractive individual. Typical of the species, it was very active, regularly moving between exposed perches and the ground as it searched for food.

With only eight previous occurrences listed in the Cley Bird Club records up to 2024, this was a nice addition to the site's bird list and a great opportunity to enjoy and photograph another scarce autumn visitor at close quarters.

Eventually, it flew back along the beach towards the area where the birders had been gathered when we first arrived, and we all followed in pursuit. It began feeding along the shingle, doing its best to brace itself against the ferocious wind. I was particularly pleased to have swapped my baseball cap for a woolly hat, as the former would almost certainly have been whisked from my head and sent tumbling down the beach - Kev would likely have got a video or photograph of that this time!

Some of my favourite photographs came when the bird crouched low on a brick structure, seemingly determined to hold its ground and defy the wind as it threatened to sweep it away. It made for some wonderfully characterful images and a memorable end to our encounter. As we made our way back towards the car, we bumped into another familiar face, Oli Beacock, someone we seem to encounter from time to time at various birding locations. The walk back proved to be hard work. Although relatively short, battling into the wind was tiring, making progress difficult and even catching your breath something of a challenge.

We still had time to look for another bird, either somewhere nearby or along the way home, so a quick check of BirdGuides revealed that the rosy starling at Happisburgh had been showing. This would be our next target.

We arrived at the recommended car park, paid the fee and joined around ten other birders who were already scanning through a temporary fence towards the rear of some gardens. The rosy starling had apparently been showing, and both Kev and I managed a quick look through another birder’s scope to get it on our lists and familiarise ourselves with its location.

We quickly set up our own scopes, only for the bird to disappear just as we located it. The wind was fierce once again, and we had to keep a firm hold of our scopes to prevent them from being blown over. After about ten minutes, the bird reappeared on the back of a bush, giving us another opportunity to try for a record shot. Given the challenging conditions, it was about the best we could hope for.

This bird was a juvenile, a particularly interesting find given the species’ scarcity in Britain. Unlike the striking adult, with its rosy-pink body, glossy black head and wings, the juvenile is a much more understated bird, with greyish-brown plumage, darker wings, and a pale yellowish bill. It is an appearance that can make it surprisingly easy to overlook among a flock of common starlings.

Rosy starlings are scarce visitors although numbers have increased over recent decades. Since 2000, the annual average has been around 50 birds, but this varies greatly, with occasional influxes producing higher totals. The record year was 2002, when approximately 195 were recorded. There is also a seasonal difference in the age of birds arriving: adults are more typically seen in late spring and early summer, while juveniles are more likely to appear during the autumn - the Happisburgh bird is therefore a good example of the pattern normally seen at this time of year.

The bird had disappeared once again, and I thought I'd seen it fly off along the hedge line, so we decided to wait a little longer in the hope that it might return. After another half an hour or so, we agreed that standing around in the wind wasn't proving particularly enjoyable, so we called it a day, headed back to the car and began the journey home.

All in all, another fantastic selection of birds to round off a great day out. The desert wheatear had also proved to be a particularly special find, becoming my 300th addition to my BUBO list and allowing me to reach my target with two months to spare. I was certainly a very happy birder!

Year list: 307 (mine), 301 (BUBO).