Linch Hill Pit 18 & Farmoor Reservoir :: 09 February 2026

With Charlotte away playing pickleball and Kev still busy fitting windows for family, I found myself with some free time and decided to explore the Lower Windrush Valley Gravel Pit Complex, starting at Rushy Common Nature Reserve and Tar Lakes, where pintails, two red‑crested pochards, and an oystercatcher had been reported the day before.

Rushy Common Nature Reserve lies in the Lower Windrush Valley, just southeast of Witney, off Cogges Lane between Cogges and Stanton Harcourt in West Oxfordshire. Nestled among a cluster of restored gravel pits, the reserve has been transformed into a rich wetland habitat through coordinated conservation efforts. Originally part of Gill Mill Quarry, the site was reshaped from industrial extraction land into a thriving nature reserve through a long-term restoration project led by the Lower Windrush Valley Project and its partners. From the reserve car park, permissive and public footpaths loop around the site, including routes that lead towards Tar Lakes and further into the Windrush Valley path network.

Parking at Rushy Common is free but limited to around 20 vehicles and on arrival, there were three cars - a chap was just packing up as I pulled in. Since it was my first visit, I located the direction of the bird hide, retrieved my hide key from my bag, and set off, pausing along the way to scan the water. The water was alive with activity: a grey heron, pintails, wigeon, teal, great crested grebes, coot, shoveler, Canada geese, and more.

Eventually, I reached a bend in the track and discovered that the usual puddles had expanded into a completely flooded stretch. Having chosen walking boots over wellies, there was no way I could continue to the hide - what a shame. I turned back and headed to the viewing screen in the opposite direction, from where I could scan the water and re‑spot all the species I had seen from the track, and still no red-crested pochards.

I had also planned on visiting Linch Hill Pit 18 (also known as Stoneacres Lake, particularly by the fishermen) to try and catch the two smew (drake and redhead) that had been present since 2 February. It wasn’t far from my location, but getting there required driving around the perimeter of the pit complex and through Stanton Harcourt. Observations of the smew are made from outside the site perimeter fence and through tree cover, so seeing the birds up close would not be possible. The northern roadside is fenced and where viewing was recommended to me, and if needed, a footpath runs about a third of the way down the eastern side, providing scope views of the pit.

The complex isn’t generally developed as a public nature reserve like Rushy Common and Tar Lakes, and the surrounding landscape has been shaped by decades of gravel extraction and subsequent natural colonisation and restoration. This pit is one of the larger and deeper gravel lakes in the area, with extensive open water that attracts a wide range of waterbirds and has developed a mix of aquatic vegetation, shallows and fringe habitats.

I parked in a layby, careful not to block one of the designated passing places along this stretch of the single-track road and stepped out to scan through the fence and trees. Setting up my scope, I immediately picked out the drake smew, then the redhead. I had to shift slightly to maintain a clear view, and that’s when I noticed at least four red‑crested pochards in the same area. They drifted to the right and out of sight from my initial position, so I moved further along the road to a more open gap in the hedges, and from there I was able to relocate and enjoy views of all the birds again.

The male smew is mostly white with bold black markings, and the head is pure white with a striking black mask through the eye and down the nape - the back and wings are patterned with black. It is small and compact, and highly conspicuous on this open water. In contrast the female has a grey body with a chestnut-red head and subtle white cheek patch, and although more muted than the male, is still elegant.

The birds were frustratingly distant, but their presence more than made up for the distance. Eventually, the smew that had been diving along the opposite bank took flight, flying back toward the area where I had first spotted them. I relocated once more, but the birds were frustratingly difficult to pick out through the tangle of branches and twigs. Still, I’d enjoyed the encounter and especially the bonus red-crested pochards, a species I don’t often stumble across naturally during the year.

I set off for home but then realised that Farmoor Reservoir lay more or less on the way. With that in mind, I decided to drop in and see if I could track down the common scoter I’d missed on a previous visit, after a paddleboarder had reportedly flushed it, along with several other birds, from the water.

I parked up and walked out onto the causeway between F1 and F2, focussing on F1 where most recent sightings had been reported and where disturbance tends to be lower. I began scoping the reservoir and, after a bit of patience, eventually picked up the scoter among a group of mostly sleeping great crested grebes, almost directly opposite my position.

I packed up the scope and set off to try for closer views and along the way, I stopped to watch a female greater scaup cruising along the edge of F1 in the company of tufted ducks.

I set up my scope, having closed the distance, but I could no longer locate the bird among the grebes. Had it moved out into the centre of the water? Despite scanning carefully, I still couldn’t pick it up.

I continued around the reservoir and eventually reached the area where the great crested grebes were sleeping or preening, and began scanning again. After a couple of careful passes, I picked it up once more, often diving and disappeared for long periods before resurfacing some distance away - a habit that made keeping track of it tricky.

At range, the bird appeared dark and very low-slung on the water, lacking the bold features of an adult drake but showing well enough to confirm it as an immature common scoter. It sat exceptionally low, giving a heavy, almost submerged appearance that was accentuated by the choppy conditions. The overall plumage was a uniform brown, without the jet-black tones or strong structure of a mature male.

The head was noticeably paler than the body, with lighter cheeks and face standing out subtly against the darker crown and nape. The bill was dull greyish-brown and relatively slim, showing little of the swollen orange-and-yellow knob characteristic of an adult male. In profile, the head shape appeared gently rounded, with a fairly flat crown flowing smoothly into the neck.

That was satisfying ... I’d managed to redeem myself and finally catch up with a bird that had been reported regularly but had so far eluded me. It had been a good day out, even if it was a little less enjoyable flying solo. No doubt Kev and I will have our diaries aligned again before long.

Year list: 159.

RSPB Frampton Marsh & Fillingham :: 07 February 2026

After looking around, we were unsure where to go on Saturday. Kev @kev07713 and I hadn’t been out all week - Kev had been busy fitting windows for family, while I’d been catching up with friends and attending a funeral. As ever, RSPB Frampton Marsh felt like a safe bet. The reserve has recently been hosting snow buntings, a species I’d failed to connect with last year but one that’s always a pleasure to see. A trip to Lincolnshire might also give us the chance to visit the Fillingham great grey shrike, which many of our friends had already visited to see.

We left Banbury fairly early, deciding not to stop for breakfast on the way. The plan was to try for the snow buntings first, then head to the reserve’s Visitor Centre for some food before moving on.

After a smooth journey, we pulled into the car park and got booted up before climbing from the path onto the sea wall. Kev set up his scope to scan along the wall, guided by information shared by friends about where they’d seen the birds earlier in the week. I mentioned that the latest BirdGuides update from Friday suggested there were still seven snow buntings on the sea wall near the steps by the East Hide, further along than he’d expected.

We worked our way along the track, and before long a small group of birds lifted and dropped down onto the side of the wall. Through our binoculars we could see they were our target birds, along with a single meadow pipit, settled roughly halfway between our starting point and the gate above the East Hide, just before the bend in the wall. We walked closer dropped our scopes and took some photographs. The birds offered excellent views, one pausing to stretch its wings and revealing bold black-and-white patterning in the primaries.

Snow buntings are a classic winter visitor to England, and for many birders they’re one of the highlights of the colder months. They breed way up in the high Arctic (Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia, Russia), then move south as winter bites. In England they usually start turning up from late October, with numbers peaking November–February, and most have gone again by March. They are often found in small flocks, sometimes mixed with linnets or twite and feed mostly on seeds, running mouse-like across the ground - males in winter show that lovely mix of white, black and warm buff.

A couple of photographers approached from the direction of the East Hide and joined us in watching the birds, one of them mentioning that this was his first encounter with the species. What a lucky chap, though they’re always special to see, and all the more so with a couple of smart males among them.

We scanned both sides of the sea wall, picking up marsh harriers, buzzards, curlews, redshanks, ringed plovers, a single dunlin, and vast numbers of lapwings and golden plovers. We returned to the top of the wall by the steps and scanned again, hoping to spot a merlin perched on a post or clinging to the rungs of a fence, but drew a blank.

Dropping back down, we headed in the direction of the car, pausing to scan the scrapes and talking to a couple of the reserve volunteers heading out to catch up with the snow buntings. Here we found plenty of wildfowl: my favourite pintail, wigeon, teal, shoveler, gadwall, mallard, black-tailed godwits, huge flocks of dunlin - hundreds, if not thousands - along with greylag and Canada geese. Snipe flew through on a couple of occasions, singly and in pairs.

We continued scanning back and forth, with Kev picking out a distant peregrine on the ground, busy consuming its recently caught prey. Behind us, I picked up a sparrowhawk, initially perched on a post before flying to a low, raised structure where it remained for at least ten minutes. With kestrel already seen, we’d recorded most of the raptors, just not the desired merlin.

By now we’d spent a couple of hours scanning the area, so decided it was time to drop into the Visitor Centre for a spot of breakfast - sausage-filled rolls and coffee, which hit the spot. We chatted with the ladies on duty while checking the sightings cards, reflecting on just how much the site has changed since our last visit, when it was almost devoid of water, and birds. How good it was to see it flooded again and hosting tens of thousands of birds. As the rain began to fall, we set off back towards the car.

We confirmed our earlier decision to then follow with a visit to Fillingham, the great grey shrike having been confirmed to still be there with an update earlier in the morning. Kev drove and as we progressed, we kept our eyes open to see if we could spot any grey partridge, a species we haven't encountered this year so far - we often stop and look but almost inevitably they turn out to be red-legged and has been the case repeatedly this year and that morning.

However, as we passed a place called Ingham Cliffs, we spotted a couple of partridges out in the fields. Kev safely pulled the car over so I could look back and check them - greys! He then dropped back so we could both get a better view. The birds were crouched low in the crop, the female now almost completely hidden from view. Despite the name, grey partridges are anything but grey when you really look at them - their plumage is actually a warm, beautifully patterned mix of colours - rich chestnut and rufous tones on the face and flanks; buff and sandy browns across the body, giving excellent camouflage in farmland; finely barred flanks with bold chestnut stripes; a pale grey-brown back rather than true grey.

You’ll often see pairs forming from January through February, with most birds firmly paired by March. Through the winter they can be in small coveys, but as daylight increases and the breeding season approaches, those groups break up and birds start forming monogamous pairs. So this is a classic sign that spring, at least in partridge terms, is just around the corner.

They were once a common farmland bird but have seen a significant decline in numbers across the UK and much of Europe over the past decades. Modern intensive agriculture removes hedgerows, field margins, and rough grass strips that provide cover and nesting sites. Grey partridges rely heavily on weed seeds in winter and insects (especially for chicks). Pesticides and herbicides have reduced these food sources, particularly invertebrates in spring and summer. Some areas historically released large numbers of gamebirds (pheasants, partridges), but release strategies and shooting pressure have negatively affected wild grey partridge populations when not managed carefully.

We arrived at Fillingham and pulled onto the verge alongside a couple of other cars, with a cold wind and the hint of rain in the air. A little way along the track we could see three birders chatting and assumed that was the right direction to head in. As we approached, we realised one of them was Wayne Glossop (@WayneGlossop2). As Kev has met and chatted with him before, he stopped to say hello. Wayne mentioned he was just heading back to his car to pick something up but would return shortly and, most importantly, that the bird was showing well.

When we arrived, two birders were already in position, one with a camera and the other with a scope, though the bird wasn’t in view at that moment. It was only a couple of minutes before the great grey shrike flew across the set-aside field, hovered briefly, and then perched on the hedge we’d just walked along. Viewing from the inside line of the hedge, we stepped back a few paces to get a better line of sight as the bird remained perched there for several minutes.

Great grey shrikes in the UK are classic winter visitors - scarce, and always a bit of an event when one turns up. They breed across northern and eastern Europe and parts of Asia and are regular winter visitor, mainly from October to March, with most records between November and February, with numbers varying year to year; some winters see several birds, others very few. They favour open countryside with scattered bushes, hedges such as here, or isolated trees, especially on rough set-aside farmland, heathland, and moorland edges.

Typically they are very conspicuous, often perched on a post, hedge, or small tree, hunting by watching from a vantage point, then dropping or gliding onto prey; prey consisting of small mammals, birds, large insects, and lizards. They are famous for impaling prey on thorns or barbed wire, earning the nickname “butcher bird”. They’re a proper winter bonus.

After a few minutes our bird took to the wing, flying out across the rough field before lifting and beginning to hover, its wings beating rapidly. Kev managed to capture some video, which gives a great impression of the behaviour and can be seen in his post on X here.

While great grey shrikes typically hover only briefly, some individuals will hover for surprisingly long periods, particularly in steady winds. A good headwind allows them to hold position with far less effort, much like a kestrel, especially when locked onto prey moving below - behaviour we’d not witnessed before. On this occasion, the shrike hovered for a considerable time over the field before dropping back to a perch, longer than is usually expected for the species. This was repeated again and again as it worked across the field, often beginning from a higher position before descending to lower levels and eventually dropping into the grass.

After a while Wayne returned and the bird slipped out of view, disappearing over the far side of the hedge. One of the other birders mentioned that this was the first time in the couple of hours he’d been there that the shrike hadn’t been visible. By now the weather had closed in - the cold wind strengthened and spots of rain began to fall - so the bird was likely holed up in a dense patch of cover, taking a break from the conditions. Wayne and his companion headed off, while Kev wandered along the hedge to check whether the bird was hunting in the adjacent fields and down the gentle slope. Before long, the last remaining birder departed as well. With little action, Kev scanned behind us and picked out four more grey partridges - buses, eh!?

An older woman then joined us for twenty minutes or so while the bird remained out of view. She’d only got married the week before and hadn’t yet had the chance to come and see the shrike, but it still refused to show. Eventually she decided to return another day, being local, and by the time she reached the end of the track near the parked cars, the shrike had hopped back up onto the far hedge line. Kev whistled and, after a moment, she turned back, though she’d clearly decided to return when conditions were better. Kev and I watched as the bird worked slowly along the hedge, perching for minutes at a time before moving on to the next vantage point.

Eventually the bird reached the far right-hand corner of the field and perched there for a while. We were then joined by Toby Carter (@_TCartz) and a young woman with him, whom he introduced as Charlotte. They had apparently seen the bird earlier along the far hedge but had relocated as it moved out of view and back into the field.

We chatted for a while, and Kev mentioned Toby's latest updates and videos on Facebook, where he’s been trying something a little different. Before long, the bird resumed its earlier behaviour, hovering for prolonged periods and occasionally dropping into the grass. As the weather closed in once more, with longer spells of drizzle, Toby and Charlotte eventually headed back towards the car. Later, however, we came across them again further along the hedge, still watching the shrike.

With the weather drawing in and the light steadily fading, we decided we’d had our fill of the bird and turned for home, calling it a day.

Year list: 157.

Into Somerset and South Gloucestershire :: 31 January 2026

Kev @kev07713 and I were weighing up our options for Saturday when we decided on another trip down into Somerset, hoping to finally catch up with the Kentish plover we’d recently missed. There were two clear bonuses to the plan: it would give us the chance to meet up with Karen @hobbylovinglife and Dean @worlebirder, who were also thinking of heading there first thing, and there were several other quality birds in the area that would make the journey worthwhile.

The Kentish plover currently frequenting Burnham-on-Sea has become one of the most remarkable coastal birds in Britain in recent years. Now a scarce and often fleeting visitor to the UK, this individual has defied expectations by returning to the same stretch of Somerset coast winter after winter.

Once a breeding species in southern England, the Kentish plover disappeared as a UK breeding species by the late 1970s, largely due to habitat loss and disturbance. Today it is classed as a rare migrant, with most records involving single birds that stay only briefly. Against that backdrop, the Burnham-on-Sea bird stands out as truly exceptional.

First recorded there in the winter of 2019–20, it settled among the regular wader flocks on the beach and adjacent mudflats, often associating with ringed plover. Rather than moving on, it remained for extended periods, allowing prolonged views and a chance to become familiar with its behaviour and changing plumage. Even more remarkably, it returned in subsequent winters, showing clear site fidelity to Burnham-on-Sea. The story gained wider significance when tracking work later confirmed its continental origins, linking this modest Somerset shoreline with breeding grounds in northern Europe.

We made an early start, arriving on the esplanade shortly after dawn to give ourselves the best possible chance. The conditions weren’t ideal - the tide was falling (high tide at 5.17am, low at 11.51am) and dog walkers were already on the beach - but we were keen to be in position early. We’d skipped breakfast, planning instead to meet Karen and Dean for food once we were done at Burnham.

I pulled up outside the café on the esplanade - Kev and I unloaded our gear. It quickly became apparent that this stretch of parking might incur charges, whereas just 50 metres down the road it was clearly signed as free between October and March, so I moved the car while Kev set up and began scanning the area where the Kentish plover had most recently been reported. By the time I returned he already had the bird, and I jumped onto his scope for a look, just in case. It was only just visible through binoculars, but soon I had it in my own scope and noticed a small group of ringed plovers off to the left, all alert and occasionally preening. There was still little light, but I took a few insurance shots.

Some time later Karen and Dean arrived, delayed by the need to drop Dean’s car and keys at the garage for repairs, and by a stop for breakfast en route. Once the café opened, Kev went in and emerged with sausage baps, which we ate while continuing to watch the bird and scan the beach and Stert Island. On the island a peregrine was devouring what must have been a recently caught bird, while off the point there were large numbers of shelduck and dozens of curlews. A flock of wigeon whirled in and settled on the water, and increasing numbers of grey plover appeared in the distance. The light gradually improved as the sun briefly broke through, although its low angle made it rather harsh on the bird.

Karen wandered off to see if she could get a better angle, and when she returned we discussed our next move. A red-necked grebe at Cheddar Reservoir seemed the obvious choice. Red-necked grebes are migratory waterbirds that breed on northern freshwater lakes and wetlands across much of northern Europe and Asia, moving south in winter. In the UK they are scarce winter visitors and passage migrants, most often recorded along sheltered coastlines between October and March, but they do occasionally turn up on large inland waters, particularly after periods of unsettled weather.

The subspecies most frequently encountered in Britain is the European form, Podiceps grisegena grisegena. Birds of this subspecies breed across northern and eastern Europe and into central Asia, migrating to wintering areas that include the north-west European seaboard. Another subspecies is Podiceps grisegena holbollii, which breeds in North America, Alaska and eastern Siberia and is exceptionally rare in Britain, with only a handful of confirmed records.

There has been some discussion surrounding the Cheddar bird, particularly regarding bill length in comparison with the typical European form, but identification of the American (Holbøll’s) subspecies would require biometric measurements or DNA evidence before it could be considered by the British Birds Rarities Committee (BBRC).

We followed Dean and Karen down to the car park at the end of the reservoir where the grebe had been reported earlier, then climbed up onto the perimeter path, immediately linking up with Dean who already had the bird in his scope. The light was good from this vantage point, but the grebe was at extreme range. I took a quick record shot before following Karen around to the edge, where we would be as close as we could get - Kev and Dean stayed put as they were taking video through their scopes.

The light flanks seem to suggest this bird may not be holboellii - they tend to be darker overall, particularly on the flanks that are often the same or a similar colour as on their back - within the grisegena subspecies, bill length varies normally between individuals and some birds simply sit at the longer-billed end of the distribution. Juveniles also often have proportionally slimmer, sometimes seemingly longer bills compared to head size, which can give a “long-beaked” impression even if absolute length isn’t greater. There is an interesting article on the species here.

The bird was closer now, but largely in silhouette with the brighter light behind it. The priority was to study it carefully through the scope while also trying to salvage the best photographs possible from the conditions. Gradually the grebe began to drift closer and hopes rose of improved views, with Kev, Dean and a few other birders now having joined us. Those hopes were quickly dashed when a paddleboarder passed through, pushing the birds away from the shoreline, and our grebe eventually resumed feeding at distance. As if to mirror the turn of events, rain (tears) began to fall. When it eased slightly, I picked up a black-necked grebe on the far side of the reservoir, which Kev also managed to locate. The red-crested pochards previously reported appeared to have departed, but we did see a pair of goosanders before they too moved on.

Dean and Karen decided to walk round to look for the black-necked grebes, but Kev and I didn’t feel the need for better views, having enjoyed excellent ones at Staines Reservoir recently. After saying our goodbyes, we jumped back in the car and headed for RSPB Ham Wall, where a pair of ring-necked ducks had been reported. Initially a single drake had been present from 19 November, with numbers increasing to two drakes by 13 December. The ducks were on a small pit east of Allotment Drove at Sharpham, and when we arrived to check the area, it dawned on us that this was the same spot where we had seen a Squacco heron back in October 2023. (blog post here).

Ring-necked ducks in the UK are rare but increasingly regular vagrants from North America, with multiple records each year. They’re considered a scarce migrant/scarce visitor, and while their status isn’t as unpredictable as it once was, they still attract interest when found because of their origins and relatively low numbers here - typically there are around 10 or more individuals recorded annually, though totals can be higher in some years. Although called “ring-necked”, the neck ring is subtle; the white bill rings are usually the most reliable field feature.

We checked the pit where the ducks had last been reported and bumped into another birder, a friend of Dean and Karen, who had apparently spotted us as we left Burnham-on-Sea. After a brief chat we split up to search in opposite directions: he headed back towards the original pit, reasoning that the birds often tuck themselves in among the reeds along the water’s edge, while we made for the larger body of water where the Squacco heron had been. Kev set up his scope and, as he raised it, the two drakes were already in view. He asked if I fancied another year tick and I took a look. The birds drifted closer together before swimming off towards the reed edge, where they began diving and feeding along the margins, the stems twitching as they worked their way through underwater and bubbles breaking the surface above them.

We could see siskins flitting in the trees overhead, marsh harriers drifting through, and caught a brief glimpse of a Cetti’s warbler before wandering down the track, where we encountered over 80 mute swans and a group of agitated long-tailed tits in a small tree. As Kev approached, he noted that a bird had dropped out and appeared to be a sparrowhawk, the likely cause of the tits’ alarm. Within a couple of minutes, Kev spotted it fanning its tail in a distant tree, presumably drying its feathers after the recent rain.

Before we packed up, a flock of geese flew through. While I was still watching the sparrowhawk, Kev looked up and spotted a white-fronted goose among them. I raised my camera and took a shot of the flock, counting around 60 birds, all Russian white-fronted geese.

It was time to start heading home, but on the way we made a detour to Oldbury Power Station, where my wife Charlotte and I had seen black redstarts at the end of October last year (report here). We made our way around to the compounds where I have seen these birds previously. After about five minutes, I spotted a female flick up into the sky before dropping from view. I continued scanning and soon saw it again at the base of some railings, only for it to disappear once more. Kev scanned the area but drew a blank, so I took over the scope to focus precisely where I had last seen it. Within a minute, it popped up, and I was able to share it with Kev.

We decided to move onto the track along the estuary wall, hoping for a better view into the compound. Despite a thorough search, we came up empty-handed. Kev returned towards the spot we had watched from earlier, and as he reached the corner to leave the track and climb the slope, he spotted the redstart on the ground between two trailers. He called me over, and I arrived in time to watch it hopping forward, still at a distance. Kev moved on, and as I waited, the bird hopped onto a traffic cone, perching there for a couple of minutes before being flushed by a stonechat and disappearing from view. I returned to join Kev, but we couldn’t relocate it.

It was definitely time to head home, so we returned to the car, stopping briefly in the orchard along the way. There, we spotted a couple of jays, two green woodpeckers, a great spotted woodpecker, fieldfares, redwings, a goldcrest, and a mix of tits and finches. Kev also heard some siskins, though we never managed to locate them.

Another great day out, and it was wonderful to catch up with Karen and Dean again.

Year list: 153.