Pewsey Downs & Salisbury Plain :: 31 May 2025

Kev @kev07713 and I headed up to Milk Hill on the Pewsey Downs, hoping to hear the distinctive call of a quail or catch sight of a stone-curlew, both of which we’d connected with at this spot last year. We waited patiently, ears tuned, but the quails remained silent, and the field that previously held stone-curlews was now cloaked in crops, making viewing impossible.

Still, the Downs were far from quiet. The air was alive with the songs of corn buntings, skylarks, meadow pipits, and whitethroats. Corn buntings, in particular, were present in good numbers, perching on posts, crop stems, and scrub. A few came in close enough for decent photos, though I suspect I’ve already got more than enough shots of them for this spring.

The whitethroats also perched prominantly and sang, constantly drawing our attention, moving around us and onto the crops in front of us as if checking us out.

Kev’s ears were definitely tuned in - he suddenly stopped and said he’d heard the distant reeling of a grasshopper warbler. It took me a moment, but then I caught it too. When we finally pinned down its location, the bird turned out to be much farther off than we’d thought. It was just visible, low in some sparse scrub and grass. After a minute or two, it hopped up onto a taller stem, offering decent views, but only through the scope.

The far side of the crop field runs along a public footpath, so I looped around the edge and made my way over to roughly where the bird had been showing. I crouched down and waited, watching corn buntings dart around the scrubby margins.

About ten minutes later, Kev joined me and, in doing so flushed a hare down the path toward me. I held still, not lifting my camera, hoping not to spook it. The hare came quite close before suddenly clocking me and veering off sharply into the crop, disappearing from view.

We waited and listened. Eventually, the grasshopper warbler began reeling again. Kev spotted it perched low on a green shrub — he’d noted it earlier and thought it looked like just the sort of place a 'gropper' might choose to sing from. He crept back up the slope to where his scope was set up to get a better view. I followed, edging back toward his position, which offered a clearer angle for photos. The bird reeled for a while, then unexpectedly flew towards us and into the crop — perhaps curious about the watchers on the field's edge.

We made our way back to the top of the slope and restarted our listening for quail - still nothing. Behind us a kestrel that had been hovering was moved on by a couple of guys paragliding. Paragliding on Milk Hill apparently offers some of the finest ridge-soaring in southern England. As Wiltshire's highest point (295m), the hill catches reliable winds and delivers long, smooth flights over the rolling chalk downs, with views over the Vale of Pewsey and beyond. I'm told it is a favourite spot for both seasoned pilots and beginners alike.

The fabric "wing" that inflatess to create lift and allow flight was a brilliant yellow against the still grey sky.

After patiently waiting in vain for a quail to call, we decided to move on to Salisbury Plain in hopes of seeing great bustards, an annual tradition we like to slot into the calendar. We pulled up at our usual spot and began scanning the hillside where we’ve often found them in the past. But after thirty minutes of careful searching, there was still no sign. How do you lose the world’s heaviest flying birds?

While the bustards remained elusive, Kev picked up another grasshopper warbler singing somewhere out in front of us, though out of sight. Way off to the left, I spotted a whinchat perched neatly atop a bush - a cracking little bird, but only visible through the scope. Corn buntings continued to come and go, and a pair of kestrels were hunting along the ridge.

Eventually, we jumped back in the car and drove round to get a view from the opposite side of the slope. Almost as soon as we stopped, we spotted six great bustards lumbering their way up the hill, moving steadily away from us. We managed a few photos and some video before they crested out of view, though by then the rising heat haze was making things increasingly difficult.

These birds are great to see as they have an amazing story on Salisbury Plain where they have been reintroduced after almost two centuries of absence in the UK - were extinct by the 1830s. Their reintroduction began in 2004 using birds initially from Russia and Spain. Bustard males can weigh up to 18kg and have a wingspan of up to 2.4m. These are fully wild, breeding, and largely self-sustaining birds, and one of the most successful reintroductions in British conservation.

The Plain is ideal as it is the largest remaining chalk grassland in northwest Europe. The area is surrounded by MOD training land making sure large areas are undisturbed and protected. Indeed, an MOD vehicle stopped and the squaddy lingered to talk to us - a very pleasant chap, but no doubt checking out what we were up to.

We spotted another male bustard in the distance and decided to press on for a closer look. Although this bird was nearer, the heat haze was now in full swing, making viewing tricky. As we scanned the area, we picked out another male and a female, bringing our total for the visit to around 15 individuals.

We stopped at a site where we’d had a tip-off that stone-curlews might be showing, but despite a solid half-hour of scanning, we couldn’t find a single one. We gave it a little longer before admitting defeat and deciding to try our luck at RSPB Winterbourne Down instead.

On arrival, we bumped into a birder named Chris, who we’d last seen a few weeks back at Wildlife BCN's Summer Leys. We began our search and made our way to the first screen, only to find that the usual ploughed patch, a reliable spot for stone-curlews, had been reduced. The viewing distance was long, and the heat haze didn’t help.

Frustrated, I figured it was worth checking further up the track and behind a line of trees, while Kev stayed put. But everywhere I looked offered the same distant strip of broken ground, and overall, there seemed to be far less suitable habitat than on previous visits. I headed back to Kev, still empty-handed.

We gave it another 15 minutes, then another — but eventually had to admit the birds weren’t playing ball today. Despite missing out on the stone-curlews, it had been a good day out birding all the same.

Year list: 205.

RSPB Pulborough Brooks & Woolbeding :: 24 May 2025

Over the past few years, Kev @kev07713 and I have made several attempts to catch sight of honey buzzards though, truth be told, largely with limited success. Recently, we heard about some sightings near Woolbeding in Sussex, so we decided to give it another go. The area also offers a chance to hear nightingales, a species we’d yet to tick off our for this year's list. Kev did the research (someone has to!) and found that the best chances of seeing honey buzzards seemed to be between 10.30am and 1.30pm. So, we planned to start the day at RSPB Pulborough Brooks for the nightingales, then head over to try our luck with the buzzards.

Nightingales are one of the great signs of spring in the UK, famous for their rich, melodic songs that brighten the woodlands in April and May. These long-distance migrants travel from West Africa to breed in southern and eastern England. In Sussex, climate change appears to be shifting their arrival earlier, from mid-April in the 1960s to as early as the first week of April more recently. They stick around through the summer before heading back to Africa between July and September.

Male nightingales are best known for their powerful and complex songs, used to attract a mate. Unpaired males often sing through the night, hence the name, while paired ones tend to sing at dawn and dusk. Their unmistakable song, a rich mix of whistles, trills, and gurgles, is one of the most celebrated in the bird world. And since they prefer to stay hidden in dense hedgerows and scrub, it’s often the song that gives them away.

We arrived at the car park before the Visitor Centre had opened and were quickly approached by a woman asking if we knew the site or where to go. It was our first time there too, but she decided to tag along as we made our way along the tracks and onto the reserve. From our vantage point overlooking the pools, we picked out little ringed plovers, dunlin, lapwings, and a few avocets. A garganey had been reported recently, but no matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t track it down.

We followed the track downhill and eventually lost our unexpected companion. A few hundred metres on, we heard the familiar call of a song thrush and then, unmistakably, a nightingale - almost exactly where our friend Adrian Sparrowhawk had reported one recently. Despite our efforts, we couldn't get eyes on it. Some goldcrests and long-tailed tits fluttered around the area.

We continued further along the track and soon came across a birder scanning the trees. We’d just heard another nightingale calling, but before we could catch up to her, she was off. Fortunately, Kev’s sharp ear picked up the song again, and before long, he managed to spot the bird through a small gap in the foliage, having seen it relocate. With a bit of manoeuvring, we get into a good position for a reasonably clear view, and even managed to get a few decent photos.

We eventually decided to loop back and try our luck again with the earlier nightingale, but once more came up empty-handed. With news of honey buzzards being spotted at Woolbeding already, we started heading back toward the Visitor Centre. On the way, we paused again to scan for the elusive garganey, but still no joy - though we did spot another jay, bringing our tally for the day to eleven. Right on cue, a male bullfinch appeared, once again in the exact spot Sparrow had recommended. Passing through the Centre, we noticed it was impressively well-equipped and definitely worth a return visit when we have more time. But for now, we were on a mission.

Following the directions, we pulled into the car park and immediately recognised that Nick @old_caley and Anne Truby were already on site, their car’s number plate gave them away. When we made our way up to the ridge, we bumped into Graham Jepson @GrahamJepson1 who was also there. They told us they’d seen a couple of birds earlier on, one with damaged primary feathers, but things had gone quiet over the past hour or so.

Honey buzzards are elusive summer visitors to the UK, migrating from sub-Saharan Africa and typically arriving around mid to late May. Woolbeding in West Sussex is a regular hotspot for spring sightings. With an estimated breeding population of only around 100 pairs in the UK, they remain a rare and sought-after species.

They are slimmer and longer winged than common buzzards, with a graceful, gliding flight often likened to a kite or harrier. In flight, their small head and flat-winged silhouette are distinctive, especially when soaring. One of the key identification features during spring is their wing-clapping display, two quick slaps of the wings above the body during a rising flight.

Their plumage is highly variable, ranging from pale to rufous, or dark morphs. They often show a dark carpal patch on the underwing, and their long tail typically features three to four bold dark bands.

We set up and joined the watch, but after a short while, Kev wandered off to chat with Nick and Anne, who had positioned themselves to the right of the main group. While he was gone, I spotted a honey buzzard way off to our left, the one with the damaged wing. We tracked it as it quartered across the distant hillside, but eventually it disappeared from view. Each time a buzzard appeared, we carefully scanned it, but they all turned out to be commons. Once again, we caught sight of a bird with a damaged wing to our left, but that too proved to be a common buzzard.

As the morning wore on, we picked up a hawfinch - a nice bonus, especially since five had been reported before we arrived, then followed by a couple of sparrowhawks. About five minutes after the sparrowhawks had vanished over the ridge, one reappeared, this time trailing behind a buzzard. I called the birds out, and Nick quickly confirmed the buzzard was a honey. We all started firing off shots as it drifted low through the valley - a challenge, as it often slipped behind the treetops. Eventually, it climbed higher into the open sky before dropping out of sight altogether.

It seemed an age before we got another sighting, again the honey buzzard with the damaged wing - it was above our head and circling. As we watched it one of the other birders called a second off to our right, which then flew over us and then climbed into the sky, higher and higher.

As the bird roses on a thermal, it suddenly snapped its wings together above its back in two sharp claps, a brief but striking display of power. The action was over in seconds, but unmistakable: a rapid clap-clap in mid-air, followed by a soaring glide. It’s a territorial or courtship display, and always one of the best ways to confirm you’re looking at a honey buzzard rather than a common.

Across the far hillside, we spotted a peregrine falcon and followed its flight for a while, though it remained frustratingly distant. We lingered a bit longer in hope, but eventually it was time to call it a day and head for home. Another fantastic day out.

Year list: 204.

Collingbourne Ducis & Titchfield Haven NNR :: 17 May 2025

We were keeping an eye on a Birdguides report of a Hudsonian godwit at RSPB Titchfield Haven, and decided we’d head that way - but only if the bird was confirmed. Before that, we planned to meet up with Kev’s sister, Karen @hobbylovinglife, and her partner Dean @worlebirder, to try our luck with quail. If the Hudwit was relocated, we’d make the journey to join the gathering of birders; if not, we’d continue deeper into the Downs and head for Salisbury Plain, hoping for stone-curlews and great bustards.

After stopping for breakfast en route, we were the first to arrive at the meeting point near Collingbourne Ducis. As we stepped out of the car, we were met by an unexpectedly chilly wind and a stiff breeze sweeping across the fields. We began scanning the area and were soon serenaded by the calls of skylarks, whitethroats, and corn buntings echoing from the fields.

Karen and Dean soon joined us, and since it was unlikely we’d spot a quail from where we stood, we set off on foot toward the area where Karen and Dean heard one calling last year. Along the way, we spotted a couple of red kites gliding effortlessly along the slopes. One eventually drifted right over us, calling as it passed - a lovely moment, and I was pleased to capture a decent photo, even with the bird partly silhouetted against the sky.

As we dropped lower, we started to see some meadow pipits, whitethroat, and corn buntings - there seem to be many more corn buntings generally across this region. In the UK they are a farmland specialist but have seen a major population decline (dropped by over 85% since the 1970s), making it a conservation concern. It is most common in eastern and southern counties with small populations in South Wales and parts of Scotland. They are now largely absent from northern England and much of the west.

Wiltshire is recognised for having the highest corn bunting population in the UK, largely due to its expansive open arable landscapes which provide ideal habitat. The birds prefer areas with minimal tree cover, favouring low hedges and open fields. Salisbury Plain, a vast chalk plateau, also serves as a crucial stronghold for corn buntings. Conservation strategies and efforts however have contributed to a 35% increase in corn bunting numbers in England over the past decade.

Down in the hollow and along the edge of a footpath we could see more corn buntings and some stonechats, but they were too distant for photos. We reached some likely areas for quails and stopped to listen for calls, Karen marching on to the corner of the road and stopping to listen from there. On her way back a couple of yellow wagtails dropped into the field margin and after she'd taken a few photos they flew off but then dropped in closer to where Kev, Dean and I stood. One bird left and was replaced by another coming in low over the crop - when it landed, we could see it was a rarer Channel wagtail - these are a fascinating example of hybridisation within the wagtail species complex. They are a hybrid of yellow and blue-headed wagtails.

They are not treated as a distinct species by birders, but as a hybrid or sub-species; the key feature is a pale bluish-grey head, lacking the prominent white supercilium of continental blue-headed variety. They are found sporadically in southern and eastern England during Spring and Summer with breeding confirmed in parts of Wiltshire, Hampshire, and Somerset. These areas have seen a small number of breeding Channel wagtail pairs, often in wet meadows or pastureland with livestock, which attract insect. With yellow wagtail numbers declining in the UK, all related forms like the Channel wagtails may also be at risk. In general, the loss of suitable wet grassland habitats is a key factor.

Suddenly, Dean stopped and told us he’d just heard a quail call. A couple of minutes later, I heard a single burst myself - unfortunately, neither Kev nor Karen caught anything, and despite waiting, there were no further calls. We dropped back and followed a track downhill, hoping to get out of the breeze and improve our chances of hearing the quail. It was much more sheltered and pleasant down there, but we didn’t hear the quail again.

We continued along the track, where we soon encountered several whitethroats flitting through the hedgerows, their scratchy song drifting along. A little further on, we came across a couple of stonechat family groups, busy and full of energy. The adults were actively foraging and being followed their fledglings, and it was a real treat to get clear views of a few of the juveniles, their speckled plumage standing out beautifully against a backdrop of spring blossom - a perfect scene of the season in full swing.

We'd seen that the Hudwit had been reported and decided that we'd return to the cars and head straight there - it would be a lifer for three of us - they are extremely rare vagrants in the UK. As of June 2025, there are seven accepted records of Hudsonian godwit in the UK, with an eighth record from Shetland in 2023 likely to be accepted soon.

Hudsonian godwits breed in remote areas of North America, winter in southern South America and undertake long-distance migrations, sometimes making non-stop flights of 6,000+ miles. The UK lies far outside their normal migratory corridor, so vagrancy is likely caused by: strong westerly winds, disorientation during migration, or perhaps weather events like hurricanes.

Hudwits are similar in shape to black-tailed godwits, but there are key differences: they are slightly smaller and more compact, their bill is long and slightly upturned with a pinkish base, and the underwing is a key identification feature, particularly in flight - dark greyish to blackish underwing coverts and axillaries. This dark underwing contrasts sharply with the pale belly and white rump when the bird is in flight and so is a key photo to capture when observing the species - very important for separation from black-tailed godwit, which has pale underwings.

The reserve had adjusted its operations to accommodate the influx of visitors, temporarily selling tickets at the Scrapes side entrance during the peak of the excitement. We entered and headed straight for the first hide, only to find it packed - quite literally elbow to elbow. Despite the crowd, we managed to set up our scopes and get the bird in view, though it was initially asleep. Fortunately, I found a spot by the window, giving me a good chance for some photographs, especially once the bird stirred and began moving out into the water.

The bird then flew in closer, though I missed the chance for a photo at first - it went on to put on a great show, giving us all prolonged views. We were then joined by Nick @old_caley and Anne Truby.

We were then treated to some flights, some just relocation, but also when a shelduck took exception to its presence.

At the far end, I spotted a little gull, but the heat haze made it impossible to get a clear record photo. We moved to the hide at the opposite end of the pool, and eventually, I managed to pick it out again, though the heat haze still posed a challenge. The Hudsonian godwit also shifted to our end, but by then the views had become more interrupted.

With time moving on we started back and bumped into Ewan Urquhart @Stormvogel99 and Jason Coppock @coppock_jason coming the other way and stopped for a chat - Ewan telling me about his time on Arran, and his trip to Shetland.

We stopped outside the gate and on the edge of the beach with an ice cream, waiting for Karen and Dean to catch up, a kestrel hovering just on the opposite side of the road - Karen was wanting another flight photo showing a clearer view of the underwing. They also bought ice creams, and I pointed out a couple of drake eiders down the beach but drifting our way - eventually they'd fly by.

It would take us over two hours to get home and so we set off leaving Karen and Dean to drop back onto Salisbury Plain on the way home.

Year list: 202.