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.
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