Winterton Dunes NNR :: 27 September 2025

After a long week away, it felt good to be back home. A quick chat with Kev @kev07713 soon had us hatching a plan: a trip to Norfolk’s Winterton Dunes NNR. The draw was a long-staying lesser grey shrike - still missing from my life list and too good an opportunity to pass up - Kev had seen one before butt had limited views as it had been flushed by someone flying a Gyr falcon. We’d visited Winterton-on-Sea before, to see a pallid swift a couple of years back, but I’d never actually explored the dunes themselves. Kev however had been down to the dunes to see an Asian desert warbler around this time last year, but not as far along from the village.

Winterton Dunes is an extensive dune system on the Norfolk coast, designated as a National Nature Reserve (NNR) covering about 109 ha. It lies within the Norfolk Coast AONB and is part of the larger Winterton-Horsey Dunes Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and Special Area of Conservation. The walk through the dunes is along tracks with surfaces circa 60% soft (sand) and 40% firmer, so it can be tiring underfoot.

Ecologically, Winterton is interesting because it shows stronger affinities with acidic dune systems (such as in the Baltic) than the more calcareous dunes typical of North Norfolk. The reserve contains a mosaic of habitats: shifting and fixed dunes, dune heath, wet “slacks” (low, damp areas between dunes), dune grassland, scattered scrub, and transitions into grazing marsh and birch woodland.

Birders prize this site because of its position on the east coast migration corridor, the variety of habitats, and opportunities for sea-watching. Spring and Autumn are the prime seasons for migrant passage with April–May and August–October being especially good for warblers, flycatchers, and rarities.

The area supports other wildlife including large populations of dark green fritillary and grayling butterflies, along with small copper, common blue etc. Natterjack toads breed in shallow dune pools and slacks; their calls apparently carrying over distances in suitable conditions. Winterton is close to several seal colonies, and in winter months the seal colony from nearby Horsey expands to include the Winterton area.

We parked up in the village and soon fell into conversation with a couple of dog-walkers, who laughed that they’d avoid the dunes so as not to disturb the birds. Clearly, our binoculars, scopes, and cameras gave us away as birders. Within minutes we were up on the dunes and heading out along the track. A BirdGuides update at 7.10am had already reassured us the bird was still present, and returning birders confirmed it was showing well.

There had also been reports of a male red-backed shrike, so we kept an eye out as we walked, though the only birds along the way were meadow pipits, goldfinches, greenfinches, dunnocks, crows, and woodpigeons. We soon fell in step with another birder, who had seen the shrike the day before but was heading back for second helpings. The walk from the village was just under a mile, and as we approached, we spotted a lone figure standing barely twenty metres from the bird - my lifer. Time to try for a photo. Before we reached him, however, the shrike lifted and flew into the scrub behind, prompting us to alter our route so the sun would be at our backs as we viewed.

The lesser grey shrike is a striking, grey-backed bird with a distinctive black mask and pale underparts. Females and juveniles are duller, with brownish or mottled tones and at about 20 cm long, it’s smaller than the great grey shrike. It prefers open lowlands with scattered bushes or trees and often perches conspicuously, scanning for large insects and small prey, which it sometimes impales on thorns or barbed wire. It breeds across South and Central Europe, winters in sub-Saharan Africa, and is a rare but regular vagrant in the UK - probably 2-3 individuals a year with most sightings occurring in spring (May–June) or autumn (September).

The lesser grey shrike often perches up on a bush or fence post, scanning the ground. We watched it pausing to give a quick scratch before suddenly dropping down onto the sand to snatch up a beetle. This kind of sallying behaviour, spotting prey from a vantage point, then swooping down to seize it, is typical of shrikes and one of the best ways to watch their hunting technique in action. We watched it eat bees, wasps and an array of beetles.

The shrike proved to be fairly mobile, gradually moving out towards the line of taller dunes that rose between us and the sea. From our more distant vantage point we kept it in view, though it often dropped behind cover. While scanning the area, our attention was briefly diverted by the unmistakable harsh call of a ring-necked parakeet carrying from the treeline on our side of the dunes, but distant. After a while we picked it up as it flew across, its green plumage catching the light. Not long after, a pair of jays appeared in the same area, flashing their blue wing patches as they moved along the trees.

While we were watching a Dartford warbler, some stonechats, and a lesser grey shrike behind, my brother called my mobile. As I chatted with him and wished him a happy birthday, a paraglider drifted overhead. Flying along this stretch offers the perfect combination of thrill and stunning natural scenery, from dunes and marshes to the open sea. The wind conditions along the Norfolk coast are usually favourable for gliding, especially off the dunes, making it most popular from spring through autumn when the weather is at its best.

Each September, these skies burst into life as flocks of pink-footed geese make their way back to our shores, their pale pink feet catch the sunlight as they wheel and glide across the horizon, calling to one another in a lively chorus of honks. Beyond the trees, looking inland away from the sea, we could spot skeins of pink-footed geese stretching across the sky though sadly, they were too distant for clear views or to hear their calls.

I checked BirdGuides and saw that there were still no reports of the local red-backed shrike, but black-throated divers had been spotted on the far side of the dunes from where we stood. Kev feigned indifference until one of the other birders nearby mentioned that a Leach’s petrel had been seen the day before - before we knew it, we were heading off for a spot of sea watching.

We crested the dune and dropped down to the edge above the beach, soon spotting a guillemot bobbing on the water in its winter plumage. Far out, a couple of gannets drifted on the sea, before a juvenile flew past closer to the shore. Just off the shore at Winterton Dunes, seals glide gracefully through the surf, their sleek bodies cutting through the waves with ease. The crashing breakers send white spray into the air, and the seals rode the swell, occasionally surfacing to breathe, their dark eyes and whiskered faces peeking above the frothy water. Sunlight glinted off their wet fur and they twisted and turned playfully, perfectly at home in the churning, salt-scented waters of the North Sea.

Singles and small flocks of teal and wigeon drifted past, and soon we began picking out black-throated and red-throated divers on the water. Most of the birds were already moulting into their winter plumage, with the black-throated divers keeping their distance. We were lucky, though, as a few red-throated divers passed a little closer to the shore. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, with the sun shining and warming us in our fleeces and hoodies as we scanned around with our scopes.

Suddenly Kev called to let me know that he'd picked an Arctic skua coming across from our right - it was quite far out but was unmistakeable. In September, Arctic skuas are a notable presence along the Norfolk coast, including Winterton Dunes. These seabirds are highly migratory, breeding in the Arctic and spending most of their year in the open ocean. At this time of year, they are most often observed offshore or near the surf, taking advantage of coastal winds to conserve energy while heading south.

Their fast and powerful flight makes them adept at chasing other seabirds, particularly terns, to steal their catches - and there were two sandwich terns just ahead of it. Their presence is most notable during periods of strong northerly or easterly winds, which bring them closer to shore.

They are medium-sized seabirds whose plumage varies widely. Adult pale morphs are mostly brownish-grey on the back and wings, with a lighter underside and show a distinctive white flash on the primary wing feathers, especially visible in flight. Adult dark morphs are almost chocolate-brown overall, but also with the white wing flash. Their tail is slightly forked, shorter than that of the larger skuas, giving a streamlined appearance in flight.

Our bird continued along the coast, eventually giving up its chase of the two sandwich terns and heading north toward Horsey Gap. We were able to follow it for some time before it drifted too far away to see clearly, even with our scopes.

Three Brent geese passed just offshore, returning to the UK from their wintering grounds. Their dark, compact bodies cut a steady line through the sea air, wings beating with effortless rhythm. The sunlight glinted off their glossy black heads and necks as they continued steadily along the coast, skimming past the breakers, before disappearing out of sight.

We were still enjoying ourselves on the shore when a BirdGuides update reported the red-backed shrike, so we packed up and made our way back to the pin drop. Upon arrival, the birders already there said the last sighting had been of the shrike flying from the dunes into the main body of trees. A couple of others mentioned that the bird had been moving around the area much of the morning, yet this was the first posting on BirdGuides - a little frustrating, to say the least.

We joined the birders and scanned the full 360° view from the track. All around, we could see many stonechats and a few Dartford warblers. At one point, Kev wandered further down the track to try a different angle, and a Dartford warbler dropped right in front of him, giving him a fantastic view. Stonechats were the most conspicuous, with some juveniles easy to spot, while the Dartfords were more secretive, but still possible to follow through the scrub and bushes.

A red-breasted flycatcher had been reported the day before, and now it appeared again, this time about a mile up the coast. Time was moving on, and I could see Kev was a little hesitant - he said that if I wanted to go on with a couple of the birders setting off, he would wait for my return - I think his back was giving him some pain. I would have loved to see it, but Kev was right: if the bird wasn’t immediately visible, I’d likely struggle to get back in time to head home. As it turned out, the bird wasn’t reported again for another four hours, and then was seen only briefly - it wasn’t reported in the days that followed.

We kept scanning and hoping for the red-backed shrike, but it never appeared, and eventually we made our way back to the car, from where Kev drove us home.

Year list: 239.

Etton-Maxey Pit & RSPB Frampton Marsh :: 20 September 2025

The weather would again help make the decision as to where Kev @kev07713 and I would go - early morning rain would sweep into the UK from the west and eastern sites would be the best bet. Looking at where there were any birds of note we quickly settled on the juvenile lesser yellowlegs at Etton-Maxey Pits in Cambridgeshire.

The site is important for migrant shorebirds and waders, especially in spring and autumn with birds like whimbrel, greenshank, wood sandpiper, and bar-tailed godwit turning up regularly - terns often drop in, and there’s always the chance of a rarity, an Arctic or black tern wouldn't go amiss. It is a former gravel extraction area that has become one of the best wetland birding sites in Cambridgeshire. As the machinery moved on, water slowly filled the voids and today, shallow pools, deeper lakes, and muddy fringes combine to create an extensive wetland environment.

Public rights of way run along the edges of the pits, with access possible from both Etton (via Green Lane) and Maxey village. It may not be a “reserve” in the official sense, but it’s an outstanding example of nature reclaiming an industrial landscape.

We walked from the car and, rounding the corner, met another birder heading the opposite way. He confirmed that our bird was still on site, associating with a greenshank around the muddy islands about halfway along the track past the lefthand pool (Rectory Pit). We pressed on, following a birder just 50 meters ahead. He paused to scan the area, narrowly missing a marsh harrier gliding just beyond him. Kev and I shared the same thought as it passed over the area where the lesser yellowlegs had most recently been seen - might it flush our bird?

This juvenile lesser yellowlegs was first discovered on 16 September and was then refound at Rectory Pit the following day. Reports suggest it has frequented several pools within the Etton–Maxey complex: Rectory Pit, Pig Jaw Pit, and Old Silt Pit.

The juvenile lesser yellowlegs is a medium-sized wader, slightly smaller and slimmer than a greenshank. Its long, bright yellow legs stand out, while the straight, moderately long dark bill complements its small head, which features a pale eyebrow line extending just behind the eye. The upperparts are soft grey-brown with fine pale fringes on the back and wings, and the underparts are mostly white, with subtle streaking across the breast and flanks. These juveniles are highly active, probing along muddy pools and shallow water with quick, stabbing motions, often bobbing slightly as they walk - a contrast to the action of a greenshank.

When we reached the viewing spot, a gap in the bank allowed us to peer down into the pool. We immediately spotted a greenshank, though its companion from earlier sightings was nowhere to be seen. These birds are transient here, staging on long journeys between northern breeding grounds and wintering sites further south.

The greenshank fed away from us, and as we scanned for our target bird, it slipped quietly out of view. With no sign of the yellowlegs, our companion headed off along the pool, exploring the top corner of the pit. It might still be here, or it may have been flushed by the marsh harrier and/or relocated to one of the other nearby pools.

Out in front, a great white egret stood gracefully then took to the wing and relocated, while a couple of green sandpipers made brief flythroughs across the pool. A marsh harrier passed overhead, clearly a different individual from the one we’d seen earlier - and we soon spotted the greenshank again as it moved to a small island along the far bank.

I was scanning along the water’s edge when I noticed the other birder waving in the distance. I quickly alerted Kev - it looked like we might be in luck, and our bird had been located. We hurried down the track and soon found the lesser yellowlegs feeding along the water’s edge, probing rapidly through the shallow mud for small invertebrates. For several minutes, it worked the shoreline tirelessly, fully absorbed in its hunt. As Kev moved along the bank to get a better angle for video, the bird suddenly took to the wing. I had to point out its new location, now much further down the pool and back where we'd stopped previously.

Eventually, we decided to make our way back down the track, hoping to gain closer views of the bird. As we walked, a few new arrivals joined us, each clearly eager for a glimpse of our bird - though the bird remained some distance away, the scopes revealed every detail. I could resist taking photos and even a couple of videos.

Eventually, the lesser yellowlegs took to the wing, flying strongly across the larger pool behind us, presumably heading toward one of the other pits it had been seen at on previous days. We scanned the surrounding pools, working through the gulls and wildfowl in the hope of spotting something of interest. A kingfisher called from nearby, though it remained unseen, and a spotted redshank flew overhead.

We continued to work the area, checking each pool carefully, when I noticed a couple of birds moving through the distance. One was clearly a green sandpiper, and the other bore all the hallmarks of our yellowlegs. Returning to the Rectory Pit, we confirmed our suspicions. We spent another ten minutes watching it, along with a variety of other species feeding on, around, and above the water. Terns on the pools were all commons.

We checked Birdguides to see if anything interesting had been reported locally and decided to head to RSPB Frampton Marsh, now just 45 minutes away. On arrival, we learned that the café would soon be closing, so we made our way straight out onto the reserve. The site had experienced notably dry conditions throughout September. Despite occasional light rain, much of the reserve remained parched, with very little water present - any recent rainfall having quickly evaporated in the warm days leading up to our visit. This extended dryness reflects a broader trend across southern and eastern England.

Goldfinches were abundant, flitting through stretches of sunflowers and teasels that line the reserve tracks. Eventually, we stumbled upon a small patch of water and spotted three black-tailed godwits feeding in the last remaining muddy gullies. Volunteers explained that while they hope to reflood the pools, water levels are low even in the ditches where they pump from, and they are awaiting the delivery of a new pump to help restore the habitats.

We’d heard reports of a group of eight bearded tits seen earlier in the morning, so we headed along the usual tracks where they’re often seen. Yet again, though, we drew a blank. Despite being reported almost daily, I’ve never managed to connect with this species at Frampton Marsh - they seem determined to keep themselves hidden from me.

Turning back, we made our way toward the sea wall, pausing often to enjoy the butterflies along the track. A fresh painted lady caught our attention, mobile in the sunshine and increasingly strong wind, and then Kev picked out a common blue on the track itself.

The common blue butterfly is a widespread species found across the UK, and is typically active from April to October, with peak sightings often occurring in late summer. It is typically found in areas with abundant wildflowers, such as clover, bird's-foot trefoil, and restharrow, plants that serve as both food sources and larval hosts. These butterflies are commonly spotted in the grassy meadows, along the reserve tracks, and in areas with sunlit patches of vegetation. Four golden plovers flew by.

We reached the fence by the gate leading up onto the sea wall and could see that a couple of birders would soon be coming down the steps. We paused to scan the area - there was actually a patch of water to observe. Suddenly, Kev alerted me to movement in the grass just ahead: a stoat! It appeared to be carrying something, perhaps a young rat? For a brief moment it froze, as if thinking, “you can’t see me,” before dashing toward the safety of the reeds, tail flicking behind it.

Stoats are among the charismatic mammals frequently spotted at Frampton Marsh. Sightings are common, with these agile hunters often seen bounding through the grass or crossing paths, especially during the colder months when vegetation is sparse, making them easier to see. It’s easy to wonder whether you’re looking at a stoat or a weasel but there are a few key differences to help you tell them apart. Size is the first clue. Stoats are noticeably larger and more robust, with long, sleek bodies and a weight that can reach up to 450 grams. Weasels are smaller and more delicate, with a tiny, elongated frame and lighter build.

The tail is another giveaway. Stoats have a long, bushy tail with a distinctive black tip that’s present all year round. Weasels have a shorter, thinner tail, usually without a black tip. Fur colour can help too - both species have brown backs and creamy white bellies in summer, but stoats have a more pronounced contrast and a larger head and rounder ears. As my dad used to joke: weasels are weasily distinguished while stoats are stoatily different - I'll get my coat.

Scanning out across the saltmarsh, we picked out a single brent goose, followed soon after by a marsh harrier with large red wing tags. It quartered the marsh at some distance before reappearing behind us, still keeping to the same range.

Along the sea wall, cattle were grazing and scattered among them were small groups of yellow wagtails, including one particularly striking male that stood out brightly against the grass. Most of these begin to leave the UK from late August through September, with the bulk of passage migrants moving south in September. They travel through western Europe and across the Mediterranean into sub-Saharan Africa, where they spend the winter. A few stragglers can still be seen into early October, especially along the east and south coasts at migration hotspots, but by mid-autumn almost all have gone.

We’d heard that a little stint and a spotted redshank were around, but no matter how hard we looked, there was no sign of either - the little stint had been recorded from the Reedbed hide for over a week but supposedly had relocated just off the sea wall. To be fair, we’d almost certainly have seen them if they’d been present - the remaining pools were nearly empty, holding only a scattering of redshank.

At the benches, we paused to scan. One of the reserve volunteers was working steadily with his scope, pacing back and forth as if tracking something down one of the channels. Later we learned he’d been watching the glossy ibis reported earlier in the day.

Kev settled on the bench with his scope but soon joined me when I picked out the spotted redshank wading in the pool below. We had just enough time to enjoy a view as it strolled across the shallows before slipping behind the reeds. Within a minute it lifted off, circling once before flying out over the saltmarsh and vanishing into the distance.

We dropped down the steps and headed back towards the Visitor Centre to get some coffee and a cake and came across a whooper swan feeding in amongst the cattle. This individual had been present at the reserve since the summer, suggesting it is likely the same injured bird reported earlier in the year. Frampton Marsh is a prime location for wintering whooper swans, with the reserve recording its highest-ever count of 1,440 individuals in November 2024 - the reserve usually supports 150-300 of the swans during the winter months. Whooper swans are increasing markedly as a winter visitor to Britain and according to a 2023 study, the British wintering population is forecast to double by 2030. The research demonstrated that nature reserves in low-lying coastal areas, such as Frampton Marsh, were key to the survival of migratory whooper swans.

It was time to return home and as we reversed out of our parking space a large black bird flew towards us - it was the glossy ibis! Unfortunately, we had already packed our cameras away but could still enjoy the flyover.

Year list: 237.