Woolbeding, Earlswood, & Wyre Forest :: 21-23 May 2026

Last year, Kev @kev07713 and I enjoyed a visit to a relatively new public watchpoint in Sussex for honey buzzards – my report can be found here. For many years, breeding sites and watchpoints for this scarce raptor were kept under wraps, but the Sussex Ornithological Society has since publicised a small number of approved viewing locations to encourage responsible birdwatching. Woolbeding Common, near Midhurst, has become one of the most reliable public sites in Sussex for observing the species. The best time to visit is from late May through July, particularly on warm days when the birds take advantage of thermals and soar high above the woodland canopy.

This year we were joined by Kev's wife, Karen @karenheath62. On arrival, we found a small group of birders already in position, peering through their scopes and scanning the skies. We joined them and settled in for what would prove to be a patient vigil. The air was filled with the songs of woodlarks and tree pipits, while siskins, linnets and a great spotted woodpecker passed overhead. Before long, common buzzards and red kites began to appear, but despite careful scrutiny we were confident that none of them were the honey buzzards we had come to see.

Distinguishing a honey buzzard from a common buzzard can be difficult, particularly at long range, but a combination of shape, flight style, and plumage features will usually allow an identification.

Shape is often the most useful clue. Honey buzzards have a small, pigeon-like head that projects noticeably beyond the leading edge of the wings, giving them a distinctive cuckoo-like appearance. They also show a longer neck, a slimmer body and a longer tail, which can lend them an almost falcon-like profile in flight.

Their flight style differs from that of common buzzards. Honey buzzards are generally more graceful and buoyant, often gliding on flat wings that can appear slightly pushed forward. During display flights, they may perform characteristic wing-clapping above their back and don't hover.

The tail is one of the most reliable identification features. It is relatively long and typically shows a broad dark terminal band, together with one or two additional dark bands along its length. The wings usually display a dark trailing edge, and the spread primaries often reveal six clearly visible "fingers". The underwing can appear strikingly pale, creating a strong contrast with the darker flight feathers.

We turned as another birder arrived and immediately recognised a familiar face from Oxfordshire - Ewan Urquhart @Stormvogel99. After exchanging greetings, he settled onto the slope beside us and we resumed our skywatching. Before long, two more raptors appeared, though neither was our target species: first a sparrowhawk and then a hobby. The wait for a honey buzzard continued.

As the morning wore on, one of the other birders overheard our conversation and came across to introduce himself. It soon became apparent that we all followed one another on X, and our new acquaintance turned out to be Steve Wilson @stevewilson1706. After a long chat, we returned our attention to the skies and were finally rewarded when our first honey buzzard appeared high to our right. Through the scopes we watched it circle for a couple of minutes before it suddenly dropped away, gliding down the slope and disappearing from view.

As the day progressed, we began to see more raptors, including a couple of additional honey buzzards, although none provided views as good as our first bird. By now, the increasing heat haze was making photography more challenging, resulting in noticeably softer images.

However, we were fortunate to enjoy a couple of encounters with goshawks in front of our vantage point. Although the conditions were now far from ideal, the birds were just close enough for us to salvage some worthwhile photographs from the heat-distorted images.

Having brought our lunch with us, we decided to remain at Woolbeding for the rest of the day rather than search for birding opportunities elsewhere. From time to time we relaxed in our camping chairs, scanning the skies and enjoying the warm conditions.

We continued to watch in the hope that a honey buzzard might drift closer and provide better views, but it was not to be. Nevertheless, we were more than satisfied with the sightings we had enjoyed and were equally content to soak up the atmosphere of the site and the birds around us. Tree pipits regularly parachuted down from behind us to the trees below, while mistle thrushes commuted between their nesting areas and feeding grounds. It was one of those occasions where simply being out was reward enough.

Eventually, we packed up our gear and began the journey home, thoroughly satisfied with an excellent day's birding.

The following afternoon, while going about my usual business, I noticed an update reporting that a spotted sandpiper had been relocated at Earlswood Lakes following an earlier negative report. I contacted Kev to see if he fancied making the trip, but he was tied up for the afternoon and suggested we might try the following day instead. Not wanting to risk the bird disappearing overnight, I decided to head over on my own. With rare birds, you can never be certain how long they will stay.

I'd never visited Earlswood Lakes before and found the traffic in the area rather busy, but I reached the dedicated car park without too much delay. As I was unloading my camera and binoculars, a passing birder noticed my equipment and kindly confirmed that the bird was still present, favouring the gravel island on the far side of the lake from the car park.

Armed with this encouraging news, I set off along the track. Reaching the causeway, I soon located the spotted sandpiper on the edge of the dam wall, hopping among the rocks as it gradually moved away from me. Other visitors were using the same path and, as they passed by, the bird became increasingly wary and edged further along the shoreline. Eventually it flew to the bank around the corner, but not before I had managed to grab a photograph.

The spotted sandpiper is a scarce but annual visitor to Britain from North America. Although records can occur at any time of year, there is a noticeable spring peak during May and June, when overshooting migrants occasionally appear on both the coast and inland wetlands. As a result, a spotted sandpiper found in late May is not unusual and falls within the species' expected pattern of occurrence in Britain. A review of British records suggests that, between 1950 and 2021, there have been 231 records, with clear peaks in May–June and again in August–October. On average, Britain receives around five records per year.

I noticed another birder standing near the bank where the bird had landed and, as I approached, the spotted sandpiper suddenly flew out and returned to the gravel island that seemed to be its favoured location. We watched it there for a while, but at that distance the photographs were never going to be particularly useful, especially given the worsening heat haze and harsh afternoon light.

Before long, the bird took flight again and headed back towards the dam wall where I had first found it. Conscious that I had already used up much of the time I had available, I began making my way back, hoping the bird would remain settled and offer me one final opportunity for some better photographs.

A couple of other birders joined me as we retraced our steps. Fortunately, I soon relocated the bird tucked in close to the wall, where it appeared remarkably relaxed and rather sleepy. In fact, many of my photographs showed it with its eyes closed. After taking a few more shots, I decided to leave the bird in peace, as it seemed particularly prone to being flushed whenever people passed too closely.

Talking with Kev later, we decided to return to the Wyre Forest the following day after receiving reports from a friend’s blog of sightings of a wood warbler. On the way, we planned a short detour so Kev could see the spotted sandpiper, as it only required a minor diversion.

We arrived at the car park and made our way towards the water, but initially we were unable to locate the bird. However, by the time we reached the far side overlooking the island, I caught sight of the spotted sandpiper flying in and settling down onto the island.

We watched the bird for a while and enjoyed a chat with one of the local birders before our bird flew back to the dam wall, where I had seen it on a couple of occasions the previous day. As this was only intended to be a brief stop, we began making our way back towards the car, once again hoping that the bird would remain in the area long enough to allow some closer photographic opportunities.

The spotted sandpiper appeared far more settled than it had the day before, spending much of its time feeding along the water's edge. By positioning ourselves ahead of its path, we were able to let the bird walk past us without causing any disturbance, avoiding the risk of flushing it. With the softer early morning light and no heat haze to contend with, I felt that my photographs were an improvement on those from the previous day.

Time to head for the Wyre Forest.

After arriving at the car park, we set off along the main track towards an area where a friend's blog had reported wood warblers had recently been heard and subsequently seen. Along the way we encountered several male pied flycatchers, along with one or two females, all busily gathering food before returning to their nesting sites.

In the past, most of my photographs of this species had been of the striking black-and-white males, but on this occasion, I decided to focus my attention on the more subtly coloured female, hoping to capture a different perspective of this attractive woodland bird.

As we searched for the best point to leave the main track, we encountered a couple of roe deer and heard the unmistakable song of a male redstart, which was giving it large. After a short search, we located the bird perched high in a distant tree. Although it remained some way off, it was close enough for a record photograph before we continued on our way.

We climbed the slope and carefully worked our way around the most likely area, eventually picking up the call of a wood warbler a short distance back down the hillside and slightly behind us along the track. As we retraced our steps, the song became increasingly clear, and it wasn't long before Kev managed to pick the bird out in the canopy.

We repositioned ourselves to circle the singing bird and reached a section of the slope where it was often roughly at eye level, allowing for far better views through the leaves. From there we were able to settle in and simply enjoy the experience of being in the presence of this restless woodland sprite, as it moved and sang high above us in the treetops.

There isn't any published national analysis yet showing that wood warblers have been reported in lower numbers this spring, so it's difficult to say with confidence that there are fewer birds this year. However, several birders have commented that they seem scarcer or more localised than expected in some traditional sites.

The species is on the UK Red List, with the breeding population estimated to have fallen by around 81% since the mid-1990s, and its breeding range has contracted significantly. Given the species' long-term decline in Britain, any encounter with a singing wood warbler remains a special experience and one not to be taken for granted.

We decided to give the bird some peace, as it had been calling almost continuously both before and during our visit, and we didn't want to contribute to any unnecessary expenditure of energy. With that in mind, we left it to its own devices and began making our way back along the track towards the car.

Along the way, we stopped to examine a curious larva crossing the path. At first, we weren't sure what it was, but after a little investigation we discovered that it was a glow-worm larva. With its flattened, segmented body and armoured appearance, it was an intriguing find and an unexpected wildlife bonus to add to our walk.

Unlike the familiar glowing adults, the larvae are elongated, segmented creatures with a somewhat armoured appearance, typically dark brown or black with pale markings along the body. At first glance they can resemble miniature woodlice or beetle larvae, but a closer look reveals their distinctive flattened shape and powerful jaws, which they use to prey on snails and slugs. Remarkably, the larvae are also capable of producing a faint greenish glow, a feature thought to deter potential predators. They spend up to two years in this stage before eventually pupating and emerging as adult glow-worms.

As we made our way back, we passed the sunny banks that are favoured by butterflies, particularly pearl-bordered fritillaries. A few were actively nectaring among the flowers, providing another opportunity for photographs. Although we had already photographed the species on our previous two visits, we couldn't resist taking a few more shots of these attractive butterflies in the warm sunshine.

Not far from there, we came across a chap who was waiting for the butterflies to settle on the ferns in the hope of getting some photographs. We stopped for a chat and, while talking, noticed a pair of common redstarts busily provisioning a nearby nest.

The birds were making frequent visits with food for their hungry young, giving us excellent views of their activity. It was a real pleasure to watch the pair at work, constantly on the move as they shuttled back and forth between feeding areas and the nest site.

Having returned to the car, we decided that the day was still young and that there was enough time to make a detour back into Oxfordshire to one of our regular sites for spotted flycatchers. On arrival, we bumped into a workman whom we had met on a couple of previous visits. He confirmed that the flycatchers were still present and that he had recently seen them perched in the surrounding trees and on the overhead wires. Almost on cue, we picked up a pair high in a nearby tree before they dropped down and disappeared.

We spent some time working the site and eventually located at least one pair actively using the area. They regularly perched in the trees, while the male occasionally chose the wires as a lookout point between feeding sorties. It was a particularly welcome sighting, as I had somehow managed not to seek out spotted flycatchers at all the previous year, making this an enjoyable reunion with a favourite summer visitor.

We located the female perched quietly in a tree, partially obscured by the foliage. She remained largely motionless while the male made repeated foraging sorties from nearby perches, sallying out to catch insects before returning to her. On several occasions we watched him fly directly to the female and pass food to her, a behaviour often associated with pair bonding and courtship, although males may continue feeding females during the early stages of nesting.

It was fascinating to watch this interaction unfold. The male appeared tireless, regularly departing in search of prey before returning a few moments later with another offering. Meanwhile, the female remained concealed within the cover of the tree, accepting the food before settling back onto her perch. The repeated exchanges provided a wonderful insight into the pair's breeding behaviour and suggested that nesting activity was likely underway.

Eventually we decided that we'd better head for home and prepare for our next outing.

Year list: 255.

Cow Gap, Beachy Head :: 16 May 2026

The subalpine warbler is a classic “split bird” with birders having recorded “subalpine warbler” in the past, the now split created new species for their lists. The formal separation between eastern and western subalpine warbler was accepted by the IOC World Bird List in May 2020, however, the groundwork was laid earlier.

Researchers had been arguing since the late 1990s and early 2000s that the “subalpine warbler complex” contained multiple species with Lars Svensson’s influential 2013 paper proposed a three-way split into eastern, western and Moltoni’s. A comprehensive genetic study published in 2020 finally convinced the major authorities to adopt the split formally.

Before the split, almost all birds were simply recorded as “subalpine warbler”, and many older birds can’t now be assigned safely to species. So, there is no completely clean total for Britain by species. What we do have are the birds that have been confidently assigned - usually through DNA, calls, photos and detailed field notes.

A major 2024 review of vagrant subalpine warblers in northwest Europe examined 70 genetically analysed birds, most from Britain, and this gave a pretty good picture of the relative occurrence in the UK - western slightly commoner than eastern, with Moltoni’s much scarcer. Historically, Britain had well over 100 accepted “subalpine warbler” records before the split with one BBRC review noting 103 accepted records just in 2000–2004 under the old treatment. The interesting thing is that many British birders originally assumed most UK birds would prove to be western birds from Iberia and France, but the DNA work showed eastern birds, especially the Balkan form, are actually extremely regular in Britain.

In the UK, western subalpine warbler is currently thought to be slightly more common overall than eastern, but much closer in number than birders once expected. Before DNA and call analysis became routine, lots of those birds would probably have been assumed to be western. In practical birding terms, if a subalpine warbler is found in Britain, the western form is still the statistically safer bet, but eastern is common enough that you genuinely have to consider it carefully.

With all this said, in Britain they are a scarce migrant, so seeing one is a good rarity to add to the list. Also, they’re genuinely beautiful little warblers: smart grey males with brick-red throats and crisp white moustachial stripes. They have smooth blue-grey to slate-grey head and mantle, usually slightly colder-toned than western birds. They also have a reddish orbital ring that can look quite vivid in good light, much like our own Dartford warbler.

A bird found at Beachy Head has been identified by observers as a male eastern subalpine warbler, and specifically it appears to fit the eastern Balkan form. It was first reported on 12 May and has stayed unusually well for a subalpine warbler, helped by singing regularly and feeding in a consistent circuit around Cow Gap. Descriptions have mentioned: a strong white moustachial stripe, cold grey upperparts, an extensive reddish throat, and persistent singing/calling - apparently often the clinching feature for easterns.

Kev @kev07713 had already been fortunate enough to see a western form, so this bird would add another member of the subalpine warbler complex to his list. I’d never seen any subalpine warbler before, so not only would it be a lifer, it would also be my first of this group of warblers. That made the decision to head down and see the bird an easy one.

With it being Kev’s turn to drive, we set off towards a parking spot he’d identified - a slightly longer walk perhaps, but supposedly a much easier one. After a quick comfort stop and some breakfast on the way, we got closer to the coast before eventually pulling in beside the kiosk and the free parking - well, I am Scottish after all. There had already been a positive update on BirdGuides and so it was likely the bird would still be there when we got to Cow Gap.

We arrived and immediately saw the climb waiting for us up towards the cliffs. Kev looked at the slope with clear disappointment - it was far steeper than expected. As we pulled on our walking boots and gathered our optics, he announced that he wasn’t taking his scope, or indeed anything he didn’t absolutely need. I decided to carry mine anyway, reasoning that in the event we needed a scope, it would be worth the effort. Besides, how hard could it really be?

We started the ascent, surrounded by people apparently choosing to tackle the hill purely for enjoyment - completely mad, if you ask me. About three-quarters of the way up we stopped, partly to admire the view out across Eastbourne, but mostly to give ourselves a chance to get some air back into our lungs.

Not long afterwards we reached a fork in the path ahead, at which point Kev decided it was time to get his phone out and check the route. I got mine out an according to the map, we should have been taking the path nearest the coast, despite somehow finding ourselves inland of it. It quickly became obvious that we’d taken the wrong route from the very beginning and needn’t have subjected ourselves to that brutal climb at all - damn. We wouldn’t be returning back down though.

We continued until we came to Heathy Brow Car Park, which only added insult to injury. We could have parked there and avoided most of the ascent entirely - double damn. Kev took the discovery worse than I did. To be fair, I’d quite enjoyed the walk as I've been on a good number of walking holidays, though it certainly would have been better avoided if possible, especially as we were there for one reason only; to see the bird, and every wrong turn was eating into our time - it was suggested that it might show best between 9.00 and 11.00am.

From there the route dropped steeply towards the lower path and the pinned location where the bird had been showing. Looking down at the descent, it quickly became clear that while parking at the car park would certainly have made the outward journey easier, the climb back up afterwards would have been absolutely savage.

As we reached the pin location it became equally obvious that it wasn’t entirely accurate, and that we still had further to descend. That meant carefully picking our way down the narrow white chalk path along the cliffside - a section that felt far more precarious than anything we’d tackled so far. Later we heard that a few people had slipped on the chalk, though thankfully nobody appeared to have injured themselves badly.

The cliffs themselves were dazzlingly white in the sunshine, the exposed chalk glowing against the deep blue sea below. Formed during the late Cretaceous period some 70–100 million years ago, these cliffs began life beneath a warm tropical sea, where countless tiny marine organisms settled on the seabed over millions of years. Their compressed remains eventually formed the vast chalk layers now exposed along this stretch of coast.

Eventually we reached the spot itself and joined a dozen or so birders scanning the bushes, bramble, and scrub for the warbler. Looking back up towards the cliffs, we could see the smallest section of the climb we’d made, though without doubt it had also been the most treacherous.

The bird had apparently been showing quite well before we arrived, and we were quickly told where it had last been seen. We’d only been waiting a few minutes when it suddenly popped out of the scrub, flicked to the right, and vanished again before I could even get my camera onto it properly. It reappeared moments later, moved again, and then stopped just long enough for me to grab a few hurried photographs - enough at least to ensure I’d come away with something.

In the end, though, I needn’t have worried. Over the next hour and a half or so we enjoyed repeated views of the bird as it moved around the bushes and bramble, even if most of the later sightings were a little more distant than that first encounter. After all the climbing, wrong turns and scrambling down chalk paths, it felt like a well-earned reward for the effort it had taken to get there.

As time went on it appeared that the bird was becoming much more elusive and there were increasingly longer period between views. However, we were entertained by birds and seals on the coast and offshore, and even a spitfire overhead. The markings “ZP-W” on the photograph are not the aircraft’s original wartime identity, but a modern paint scheme applied to the restored flying Spitfire TE308, carrying the shark-mouth markings of No. 457 Squadron RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force), the “Grey Nurse Squadron”.

The actual wartime “ZP-W” was flown by Squadron Leader Bruce Watson of 457 Squadron RAAF. So, the aircraft in my photo is effectively a flying memorial scheme rather than an original surviving combat aircraft in untouched markings.

It was built at Castle Bromwich in 1945 as a low-back Mk IXe Spitfire and delivered too late to see combat in the Second World War. It then spent several years in storage after the war until it was later selected for conversion into a two-seat trainer version (T.9). Intended for export, possibly to Egypt, that sale never happened, and in 1951 it was transferred to the Irish Air Corps along with several other two-seat Spitfires. Today it flies on the UK airshow and experience-flight circuit.

Aircraft designers have long admired peregrine falcon because it combines speed, manoeuvrability and stability in ways that are remarkably efficient aerodynamically. While no aircraft is literally shaped exactly like a peregrine, many aspects of modern aircraft design echo features evolved naturally in fast-flying birds of prey.

The peregrine is especially influential because it is the fastest animal on Earth during its hunting stoop, reaching well over 200 mph (320 km/h). During these dives the bird changes its body shape to reduce drag. The comparison is especially apt when watching peregrines along sea cliffs such as Beachy Head. Seeing one sweep along the chalk face, banking sharply before dropping into a stoop, it is easy to understand why aerodynamic engineers and pilots alike find them so inspiring.

On a couple of occasions we saw a peregrine: first a brief view over the cliffs, then a single bird passing through, and finally two birds moving through over the beach behind us. Peregrine falcons are one of the signature birds of the cliffs around Beachy Head and the nearby Seven Sisters coastline with the sheer chalk faces being almost perfect peregrine habitat. I've read that a pair usually breeds somewhere along the cliffs most years, though exact nest locations are often kept deliberately vague to avoid disturbance. Spring and early summer is usually the best time to watch them, particularly for courtship and display flights, and then later when adults are hunting constantly for chicks.

Beachy Head has a long association with peregrines. Like much of southern England, the species disappeared from these cliffs during the pesticide era of the mid-20th century, suffering badly from chemicals such as DDT. Following the banning of those pesticides, peregrine numbers recovered strongly and they are now once again established along many of the southern coastal cliffs, including here at Beachy Head.

Birders continued to come and go throughout the late morning and early afternoon, though by now the views of the warbler were becoming increasingly infrequent and generally much more distant. We stayed for another half hour or so, chatting with some of the newer arrivals and reassuring them that the bird was still present and, with a bit of patience, would eventually show itself. Kev managed to pick it out for them on a couple of occasions as it flicked briefly through the scrub.

Eventually it was time for us to begin the journey back, though one thing had already been firmly decided - there was absolutely no chance we were returning the way we’d come. Instead, we dropped down onto the beach and followed it along beneath the cliffs until we reached a set of metal steps leading back up to the coastal path. From there the route was far more manageable. There were still a few sharp climbs and descents along the way, but nothing compared to the punishment of our outward route.

Along the return walk we added a pair of kestrels to the day list, along with several more stonechats, adding to those we’d encountered earlier in the day.

Back at the car we celebrated our success with some lunch from the kiosk before finally setting off for home, another lifer safely added to the list.

Year list: 251.