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.
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