Beachy Head Belle Tout Lighthouse :: 26 October 2024

A 4 a.m. start with Kev @kev07713 on a last-minute decision - and it turned out to be well worth it. With limited choices for notable sights within a reasonable distance from Banbury, we decided on a trip to Beachy Head, where a desert wheatear had been reported. Spotting it would be a first for both Kev and I.

Beachy Head is a prominent chalk headland on the southern coast of England, located near Eastbourne in East Sussex. It rises dramatically about 162 meters (531 feet) above sea level, making it the highest chalk sea cliff in Britain. The site is renowned for its spectacular views over the English Channel, its steep white cliffs, have made it a popular tourist destination as well as a significant natural landmark.

Often referred to as the “The Lighthouse on the Hill,” Belle Tout Lighthouse sits atop the cliffs near Beachy Head and was constructed in 1832. However, due to frequent fog at that height, its visibility was limited, leading to the construction of Beachy Head Lighthouse down at sea level. Belle Tout was moved 17 meters (55 feet) inland in 1999 due to cliff erosion. The entire structure was relocated to preserve it from collapsing over the edge. Now a private residence and guesthouse, Belle Tout no longer functions as a navigational aid but remains a historical attraction.

Both Beachy Head and the Belle Tout Lighthouse are integral parts of the South Downs National Park.

With mixed weather forecasts in mind and three nearby running events scheduled, we decided to set off early to avoid any potential crowds and traffic disruptions. We paused for breakfast along the way and arrived around 7:30 a.m. Rather than using the main car park, which was sure to be filled with spectators and runners, we chose a layby nearby. This cut down the walking distance, but the steeper climb made up for it. We paced ourselves up the slope, and a light drizzle began - would the BBC app's rain prediction be right, or would the Weather Channel's dry forecast win out? We carried waterproofs in our rucksacks, just in case.

At the top, we heard Dartford warblers calling from the gorse bushes. It took a few minutes to spot them as they skulked in the early light. To our right, we spotted song thrushes, blackbirds, and meadow pipits on the grass, joined by a few pied wagtails. As we continued our climb, gradually levelling out, the cliffs along the coast came into view, bringing us closer to the lighthouse where our target bird had reportedly roosted the night before. We spotted a small group of birders scanning for the wheatear near the lighthouse, though their scattered scanning suggested it hadn’t shown itself yet. We hoped it was still around.

Kev scanned the grass between us and the lighthouse, and within minutes, he spotted the bird. After watching from a distance, we moved closer to join the other birders, who were approaching from the opposite direction.

The desert wheatear is a rare visitor to the UK, but when found are primarily sighted along the coasts in autumn and early winter. This small, sandy-colored bird typically inhabits arid and semi-arid regions in North Africa, the Middle East, and Central Asia, so its appearance in the UK is unusual and generally caused by strong winds or storms during migration, pushing it off its usual route.

They are frequently found on coastal headlands, open beaches, and dunes. When found, birders seek them out for their striking appearance - in particular males exhibit distinctive pale plumage with bold black markings on their wings, tail, and throat, while females display a more muted colouration. Our friend Nick Truby spotted a male a couple of years ago, but this time, our bird was a female. These birds feed primarily on insects and are often surprisingly approachable, apparently allowing for closer observation than many other rare migrants.

Now standing with the other birders, we took photos and videos, allowing the bird to come closer rather than moving toward it. It seemed content to forage around the area, appearing entirely unbothered by our presence. The light was gradually improving.

We chatted with the other birders, all equally delighted with the views we’d had. A man with a camera and long lens then came up the slope, moving close to the cliff edge, seemingly unaware of the bird or of our small group watching it. He strode past, repeatedly flushing the bird until it flew closer to the cliff’s edge, finally settling briefly on a small patch of scrub. After a few minutes, it took off again, flying along the cliff’s edge and up to the wall surrounding the lighthouse and its garden.

We struck up a conversation with one of the birders, a young guy we recognised from Twitter, though we only made the connection after he introduced himself as Henry Wyn-Jones @henrywynjones). Another birder, a woman, was eager to search for a black redstart reportedly seen near the lighthouse the previous day, though she couldn’t locate it. Shortly after, two raptors sped past in quick succession; Kev was 90% sure the first was a merlin, and the second was a peregrine.

The desert wheatear continued its foraging in the damp grass, occasionally hopping up onto the lighthouse walls for a rest and a preen, giving excellent views. It perched there for quite some time, undisturbed even as some walkers approached the lighthouse gates to read the information board. It barely seemed to notice them, carrying on with its morning. After a while, the bird dropped over the cliff edge and out of sight. Overhead, flocks of linnets, goldfinches, and meadow pipits flew by, their calls filling the air. Henry spotted a rock pipit among them, and we also saw and heard three corn buntings.

We continued chatting, but as more people began arriving along the paths, it became clear that increased activity would lead to more disturbance, and our bird would likely settle less. It gave us one last close pass before we headed off with Henry to search for the Dartford warblers we’d seen and heard earlier.

We could hear a few Dartford warblers calling, but it took about five minutes before we spotted one darting across the path through the gorse. Just as we were about to move forward, a sparrowhawk flew behind the trees but didn’t reappear. As we continued down toward the hill’s brow, we saw flocks of meadow pipits and goldfinches. Off to the left, a Dartford warbler briefly landed in view on a small tree.

We watched as it disappeared from sight, only to reappear moments later with two others close behind. They didn’t stay still long enough for a photo, but following them, we managed to capture a quick shot when one paused briefly atop a gorse bush.

We watched on as a paddle boarder traced his way along the base of the cliffs, his figure tiny against the towering white chalk. The board moved steadily across the calm water, contrasting beautifully with the wild, rugged cliffs above. The scene was peaceful yet striking - a quiet journey along one of the coast's most dramatic and breathtaking stretches.

We dropped down to a small copse, hoping to spot something unusual, but found nothing of particular note. Henry headed home, while we moved to another copse near the car, where we watched various tit species, goldcrests, and a blackcap feeding on insects, taking advantage of the now calm conditions. Thankfully, the rain had held off. Deciding to head back to Banbury, we kept an eye out for anything interesting along the way, though progress was slow, with several spots partially blocked by runners and spectators.

Finding nothing noteworthy enroute, we detoured to Bicester Wetland Reserve in hopes of spotting a jack snipe - our usual spot for them, Summer Leys in Northants, still had water levels that were reported to be too high. We stopped off and collected a sandwich for lunch on the way. Scanning the water, we counted over 95 teal and 36 coot before a sparrowhawk swooped just below the hide’s window, scattering the birds as it landed near the feeding station.

We picked out six snipe but never had a sniff of a jack. Another great day out.

Year list: 242.

Hampshire and Boddington Reservoir :: 19/20 October 2024

Rather unusually BirdGuides had been reporting on a (female) ruddy duck in Hampshire and with the weather locally to be raining until lunchtime, south and west seemed like a good plan. This would be a lifer for me.

The ruddy duck (Oxyura jamaicensis) is a small, stout diving duck native to North America. It was introduced to the UK in the 1940s when some escaped or were released from collections, and the species quickly established a breeding population. By the 1980s, the ruddy duck population in the UK had grown significantly, with several thousand birds present. However, the ruddy duck became a conservation concern in Europe, especially due to its hybridisation with the native white-headed duck (Oxyura leucocephala) in Spain. The white-headed duck is endangered, and the presence of ruddy ducks posed a serious threat to its survival, as hybridisation could lead to the genetic extinction.

In response to this conservation threat, the UK initiated a ruddy duck eradication program in 2005. The goal was to eliminate the ruddy duck population in Britain to protect the white-headed duck population in Europe. This programme involved culling efforts, particularly by shooting, and has been largely successful. By 2014, the ruddy duck population in the UK was reduced to a very small number, and sightings have become increasingly rare. Today, ruddy ducks are still occasionally seen in the UK, but their numbers remain very low due to ongoing management efforts.

We set off in the dark, encountering rain and a lot of standing water on the roads as we ventured south, to and along the A34. We stopped for breakfast as daylight appeared and the roads gradually cleared as we continued on.

Arriving at the recorded location, we joined a dozen or more people already watching our bird. As is often annoyingly the case, our bird was asleep and at distance - not very far but as it is relatively small it would make capturing decent photos less simple - record shots were now likely. We scanned around and noted large numbers of Egyptian geese and then three black-necked grebes; two off to our right and then another out in front and in the far distance.

There were lots of ducks and coot on the water - quite a density on offer. There were meant to be red-crested pochards here but try as we might we could locate any - I've managed to avoid seeing any all year and so stands out as an obvious omission to my year list.

We waited until the ruddy duck woke and for a few minutes it cruised left and right around the same spot but soon swam further back ... before going back to sleep. Eventually we saw it swim back right and a little closer, before it started diving. They are excellent divers, using this ability to forage for food. They typically dive underwater for 10 - 30 seconds, though may last longer in some cases. During dives, they propel themselves using their feet, searching for aquatic insects, crustaceans, and plant matter at the bottom of lakes or ponds.

A couple of days later and in response to seeing photos, it was then reported the bird had been reidentified and was likely an escaped female Maccoa Duck discovered on the 25th of February near Walthamstow and clearly found West Warwick so similar to its native southern Africa home that it had remained into March.

The Maccoa duck (Oxyura maccoa) is a species native to sub-Saharan Africa, primarily found in eastern and southern Africa. It is not native to the UK, and sightings of Maccoa ducks in the UK are extremely rare. Any appearances of this species in the UK would likely involve escaped individuals from wildfowl collections or zoos rather than natural migration. It is a stiff-tailed diving duck, very similar to the ruddy duck, and shares many of its traits, including a preference for freshwater lakes and marshes. However, it is not considered an invasive species in Europe like the ruddy duck because it does not naturally occur in the region and does not pose the same conservation threat, such as hybridisation with native species.

Updates on Twitter attracted some attention and Lee Evans posted "The escaped Maccoa Duck, initially seen in Sussex, recently relocated to Hampshire, where it continued to confuse observers". Also, on my post I asked if it might be possible to understand what specific feature stood out and was helpfully told "Of course - the bill is usually the giveaway. In ruddy ducks, the bill is 'scoop-shaped' with a relatively narrow base; in Maccoa ducks, the bill is thicker with a deeper, 'swollen' base. The same goes for white-headed ducks although they have even thicker, very 'swollen' bills". This is all great learning but quite confusing - talking with people whose opinions I respect greatly, this is all a bit odd - the bill looks sort of OK for Maccoa duck but with swelling halfway along the culmen - the plumage appears to be closer to ruddy. We live and learn I suppose.

We then spent the remainder of our day at Blashford Lakes around the woodland trails, north of the Education Centre and running parallel to Ellingham Drove. We walked along hearing and then seeing nuthatches and goldcrests. We stopped as a firecrest called in the bushes by the water; it wasn't long before we located it, and then another ten minutes or so before I managed to see it in the open for a photo. The photos were a record (and a bit rubbish to be honest) but as we turned to go the bird moved further down the path and into some light. Bingo. Then it was gone.

Firecrests are small, colourful songbirds that were relatively rare but increasing in the UK. Traditionally, it was a scarce breeder, primarily limited to southern England, particularly in areas with dense coniferous or mixed woodlands such as the New Forest. However, its population has been growing in recent decades. Firecrests are also expanding their range northwards and are increasingly observed in the UK during the winter, especially in milder areas such as the south and southeast. The dense coniferous and mixed woodlands of the New Forest provide ideal habitat for them during the colder months, where they forage for insects among the trees.

We pushed on and entered a clearing where we immediately we saw another pair of firecrests, then another, then a pair of goldcrests. They shot around and above a nuthatch called. To our right a treecreeper appeared and dropped down onto the base of a tree and started working up, as they do. Another then appeared and although more distant it was in brighter light.

We really must do more woodlands - we always say that when we see such plentiful sprites. We saw more goldcrests and firecrests as we retraced our steps, making for the Education Centre. We stopped in the car park and listened, hearing great-spotted woodpeckers, chaffinch, various tits, nuthatches and saw a red admiral butterfly working from the tree canopy down to some lavender flowers. A siskin flew over and called, although we didn't manage to lay eyes on it.

Right in front of us a nuthatch dropped in with a sunflower seed, presumably obtained from the feeders near the Education Centre.

We wandered along the path, enjoying sightings of coal tits and numerous nuthatches. Near Ivy South Hide, we stopped by a pool, drawn by the distinctive call of a Cetti’s warbler. Kev spotted one moving through the base of some reeds, while I noticed another across the water. A chiffchaff flitted among the bushes over the pool.

Continuing further, we heard the call of a kingfisher but couldn’t spot it. We entered the hide, where birdwatchers mentioned a kingfisher had perched on a stick earlier, though it had been a while. Undeterred, Kev stepped outside and wandered back along the track. Soon, he sent a WhatsApp message - he’d found a kingfisher perched on a fallen tree in the water. I joined him and watched as the bird stayed put. Kev then returned to the hide to let the others know it might not be perfect for a photo, but it offered a great view through a scope.

Kev and I snapped a few photos and videos before the bird flew off to the left and disappeared from sight. As some birders began to leave, I kept scanning the trees across the water and managed to spot the kingfisher perched on a lower branch. A lady birder who stayed behind was able to view it through Kev’s scope. It flew off again, but I managed to find it a bit farther along the tree line, a few tens feet from its last position.

Eventually, we continued along the boardwalk. Near the end, we spotted a large group of tits and a nuthatch, drawn by seeds scattered on the posts. A nuthatch briefly dropped onto the leaf-covered ground before darting off again. I waited for it to reappear, when Kev said something I never expected to hear: "The nuthatch has landed on the owl." It made sense, though still amusing - there was a wooden owl at the end of the boardwalk, and the nuthatch had perched right on it.

We reached Ellingham Lake and made our way back to the Education Centre without adding any other sightings of note. We did see quite a bit of fungus and were particularly taken with what I think is Mycena inclinata. Mycena inclinata, commonly called the clustered bonnet or oak-stump bonnet cap, is a species of mushroom. Its cap is reddish-brown and bell-shaped, growing up to 4.5cm in diameter; the margin of the cap has minute but distinct scallops. The thin stem, which can reach 9cm in height, is whitish to yellow-brown near the top, gradually becoming reddish-brown toward the base. At maturity, the base is often covered with a yellowish mycelium that can extend up to a third of the stem's length.

We made our way back to the car and stopped at a gate by the Tern hide and were somewhat surprised to only see blackbirds. However, we also saw the occasional wagtail and pipit over. We stayed chatting a bit longer than we'd set out for, but Kev spotted a raptor in the distance and pointed to what was likely a sparrowhawk. We watched as it rose back into view and realised it was in fact a goshawk. Goshawks are resident in the New Forest, and October is a great time to observe them as they often become more visible during autumn having been elusive during the breeding season. We watched as it flew along the far treeline and eventually out of view. A terrific end to our day's birding.

The next day, I found I had a couple of hours free to visit Boddington Reservoir near Byfield, Northamptonshire, where a long-staying red-crested pochard had been reported by John Friendship-Taylor @987jonty the day before. After confirming its location, I parked on the western side. Just a few hundred meters in, past several fishermen, I spotted the bird. I took some photos and was glad to add it to my year list. At one point, the pochard came out of the water to feed on seed bait near a fishing peg, rounding off a lovely weekend.

Year list: 241.

RSPB Titchwell :: 12 October 2024

Located on the Norfolk coast, the RSPB Titchwell reserve is known for its diverse habitats, including salt marshes, freshmarsh reedbeds, and lagoons, which attract a wide variety of wildlife during autumn.

In October, Titchwell transforms into a prime destination for migrating birds, with the arrival of thousands of waders and wildfowl such as teal, wigeon, and Brent geese signalling the approach of winter. The reedbeds provide ideal spots to observe marsh harriers quartering low in search of prey, and if you're fortunate, you might catch sight of elusive bearded tits (reedlings). Strolling along the coastal paths, the sweeping views of the North Sea and saltmarsh come alive with the warm tones of autumn.

Kev @kev07713 and I paused for breakfast in King's Lynn on our way, yet still arrived at the site before 08:30. The car park was nearly empty, with only a few cars scattered around. As we laced up our walking boots and put on our coats, flocks of redwings, a dozen or more at a time, repeatedly burst from the tree canopy, circling the treetops above. We wandered through the overflow car park, hoping to catch the call of a yellow-browed warbler in the trees. Instead, we continued to spot redwings everywhere - there must have been hundreds in the area.

As another couple of cars arrived, we decided that it would be a good idea to head for the beach before it got busier - there had been reports of two snow buntings and these were the main target species for the day. Snow buntings are a winter highlight in Norfolk, often seen along the coastal areas during the colder months. These small, striking birds, with their partly white plumage and black markings, are typically found on beaches, dunes, and salt marshes, blending in with their surroundings. One of the best places to spot snow buntings in Norfolk is at spots like Salthouse, Cley, and Holkham, where they gather in flocks, feeding on seeds and insects - it was a nice surprise to see them reported here. They arrive from their Arctic breeding grounds in late autumn and stay through winter. As it happened, I failed to see any when at Holkam at the beginning of the year and so this was a welcome opportunity.

On the way, we paused to listen to bearded tits (reedlings) calling from both sides of the track. Three of them lifted from the reeds, flying just a foot above the seed heads before diving back down. There wasn’t a chance for a photo, and despite waiting and walking slowly, all we heard were more calls. Still, it was a year tick for me.

We reached the beach and turned right, heading in the direction where snow buntings had been reported the day before. Eventually, we met a female birder coming from the opposite direction. She told us the birds had landed near her but had flown off toward the inlet further ahead. She and another birder had tried but couldn’t relocate them. As we walked towards the area, we kept scanning, but still no luck.

We stopped at several points, trying different angles for a better view, and soon I spotted the bird. I called Kev over, and we had it in his scope. It wasn’t the most striking example, but a year tick for both of us. We waved over a couple of other birders, and just as they joined us, a second bird appeared in the same spot, both feeding continuously. We posted an update on Birdguides, and soon a stream of birders began heading our way.

The birds had moved back up the inlet and disappeared from view. The far corner wasn’t far behind the dunes along the beach, so Kev and I decided to head back, thinking they might hop over onto the beach. A man with a camera joined us, and soon enough, our theory proved right - the two buntings were moving along the edge of the reeds growing through the sand dunes. We got ahead of them, staying low on the sand, and waited as they approached. Unfortunately, the birder beside me was closer to the dunes, which may have caused the buntings to turn and head back the other way. I managed to get a few photos, so we left them be after that. Looking back along the dunes it looked like quite a twitch was taking place.

We scanned along the water's edge and spotted bar-tailed godwits, curlew, oystercatchers, turnstones, redshanks, and sanderlings, while out to sea, only great crested grebes were visible. As we continued scanning the horizon, we eventually added cormorants and common scoters to our day list.

Making our way back through the reserve, we stopped to try and spot the spoonbill, which had reportedly been seen around the saltmarsh, but we had no luck. While we searched, we watched a herring gull catch a crab, drop it in shallower water - perhaps to clean it - before picking it up again for a meal.

On the freshmarsh, a flock of golden plovers took to the sky, wheeling around in formation. Avocets, ringed plovers, dunlins, black-tailed godwits, and redshanks occupied the small islands and spits scattered across the marsh.

We had already seen a single pink-footed goose when a flock of barnacle geese flew by. Soon after, the many Brent geese left the water and moved to the grassland on the opposite side of the path. Overhead, both male and female marsh harriers quartered, while a kestrel hovered, scanning the grasslands below. Kev spotted a distant stonechat, and occasional flocks of meadow pipits and finches flew nearby. However, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual among them - though, as we later heard, friends spotted twite mixed in with a finch flock the following day ...

We eventually made our way back and onto the boardwalk, searching for the yellow-browed warbler reported the day before. Though the rain began to fall, it never became heavy enough to force us to seek shelter. We focused on trying to spot any mixed tit flocks moving through the trees and along the way, we paused to watch a jay hopping around in an open area of short grass. It didn’t seem too bothered by our presence, but before long, someone approached from the opposite direction and flushed it. We managed to spot one other bird before we got further into the trees.

We spotted some long-tailed and blue tits in a sycamore tree and then heard the calls of a goldcrest - and our yellow-browed warbler. A couple of birds dropped into the trees beside us, and we turned quickly to check if one was the warbler -just more blue tits. Grrr. Despite waiting, listening, and watching closely, we couldn’t locate it. So, we headed to the Visitor Centre for lunch.

The Visitor Centre provided a cozy spot to enjoy a sandwich and hot drink before venturing back out. We decided to try the car park on the other side of the trees where we had first heard the yellow-browed warbler. Within minutes, we heard its call again, but it quickly moved farther away, back toward the spot we had first heard it. After five minutes, we looped back to the original area and stood in the now heavier rain, waiting. After about 45 minutes, we still hadn’t heard any more calls. This bird is fast becoming my bogey bird.

Although we saw a few mobile tit flocks, the warbler remained elusive, and we never saw or heard it again. We returned to the car and headed home. Titchwell is an amazing place, and I’d managed to add a couple of species to my year list. But the yellow-browed warbler clearly hadn’t read the script and eluded me once more.

Year list: 239.