The big reset had arrived, and my year list was back to zero. A handful of species spotted in the garden on New Year’s Day got things started, though it wasn’t the most inspiring beginning. Charlotte and I were heading north to visit my mum and youngest brother for a few days, and after a morning of driving, we reached Troon just before lunchtime. I’d heard reports of twite in the area and decided to stop by to see if I could find them. They’d been sighted near the sunken gardens overlooking South Bay and South Beach, seemingly unbothered by people nearby. Although I hadn’t seen any recent updates or photos, I figured it was worth a shot.
Twite populations have experienced notable declines, particularly in England, and breed in the upland moorlands of Scotland, Northern England, and parts of Wales. During winter, they migrate to coastal areas, forming flocks on saltmarshes and dunes. The sun had come out and so had the crowds, taking the air along the promenade - the 2nd of January is a public holiday in Scotland and is unique to Scotland, extending the New Year celebrations. We marched around the promenade watching for any finch sized species, heading east from the car park to the corner beyond the play park and then returned back to the car park. Not a sniff.
We decided to head up onto the wall to the west, where we quickly came across waders in the pools and on the rocks. The area was bustling with activity - oystercatchers and shags were plentiful on the rocks, joined by a couple of cormorants, redshanks, turnstones, and a few distant ringed plovers. Closer to us, larger groups of turnstones were busy foraging, but the real highlight was spotting half a dozen purple sandpipers, one of my absolute favourites. It was a treat to see them so early in the year. The bright sunlight made photography tricky, but we took our time to enjoy watching them as they foraged around.
We then spotted a few more purple sandpipers further out on the rocks – they are often seen feeding on rocky shores, especially as the tide approaches its peak; hide tide was only an hour away. This offered prime conditions for foraging as the rising water pushed marine invertebrates closer to the surface, making them more accessible.
Along the edge of the sunken garden, we came across an approachable rock pipit, with many more scattered along the promenade, feeding frantically. A lone grey wagtail flitted along the edge of the rocks.
We headed back toward the car, mindful of our plans to have lunch with my mum. As we neared the parking area, a bird caught my eye (in flight), its size was similar to the shags and gannets we’d seen earlier, but it looked distinctly different. A closer look through my bins confirmed it was a red-breasted merganser.
The next morning, after breakfast, Charlotte joined me for a trip to Stevenston Point, a spot where I usually tick off my first sanderling of the year. The cold wind had us wrapped up as we made our way along the beach. Before reaching the Point, we paused to scan the shoreline but found no sign of sanderlings or any other notable species. Pressing on, we arrived at the car park on the Point, where two cars were parked near the sea end. I recognised one of the people as Dougie Edmond, a knowledgeable and friendly local birder.
Dougie had just finished chatting with the driver of the other car as it departed and came over to greet us. He mentioned that he’d been up to RSPB Tayside Reedbeds searching for bearded tits but had dipped out, which was a bit concerning since we planned to visit there ourselves in a couple of days enroute to Aviemore. However, he’d managed to spot hawfinches on the way back, salvaging the trip from being a total loss, though it was his second consecutive dip for the bearded tits. After a quick remark about the biting cold, he said his goodbyes. Before he left, I asked about any recent sightings of sanderlings, but he hadn’t seen any, though he suggested they were probably around somewhere.
Charlotte and I carried on, walking down onto the beach and heading south. The shoreline and water’s edge were quiet, with nothing noteworthy in sight. On the rocks, however, we spotted some ringed plovers, a handful of dunlins, and a couple of redshanks. At the very tip of the Point, a single purple sandpiper stood preening among a group of redshanks.
We strolled along the beach as I scanned the water for any signs of bird activity. In the distance, a few gulls caught my eye, but then a male eider drifted into view. I tracked it for a while, though it remained far offshore. We paused several more times along the way until I noticed something slip beneath the waves. It took a few minutes of watching, but eventually, I caught a fleeting glimpse of it bobbing up and down in the water - a red-throated diver.
We reached a vantage point where I could see far along the shore, but there was still no sign of sanderlings or any other notable species. With that, we decided to head back to the car and make our way to visit my mum. As we departed, a curious grey seal surfaced, watching us as we left. The sanderlings had managed to elude me, making it the second species in two days to slip through my fingers ... a lovely walk with my wife though, and great views over to the snow-covered peaks of Arran.
We had lunch and dropped down to Dundonald Golf Club for coffee mid-afternoon.
The next morning, we set out from our hotel with plans to search for a Ross's goose at Raith Reservoir near Tarbolton. The bird had been reported associating with a flock of mainly Canada geese, along with a few greylags. Dougie had kindly provided guidance on two potential vantage points to see the bird. We tried both but found no geese near the reservoir, only gulls. A handful of ducks and gulls floated on the water, and we spotted a little grebe, but no sign of the Ross's goose.
We decided to check the fields southeast of the reservoir and eventually located a larger flock of geese. Unfortunately, despite careful scanning, our target bird was nowhere to be found.
The Ross's goose, a small white species native to North America and Canada, is a rare vagrant in the UK occasionally turning up in winter among flocks of barnacle or other geese. Smaller than a snow goose, it is recognised by its rounded head, short neck, and distinctive stubby bill with a greenish-blue base. We gave the search a couple of hours, but luck wasn’t on our side. With time pressing, we had to head back up the coast - our third dip in as many days ...
In the afternoon, we visited the Largs Yacht Haven and enjoyed a coffee at Scotts. While there, I got a message from Dougie letting me know that the Ross's goose had returned to the very field we’d spent hours scanning earlier. Damn. Unfortunately, going back wasn’t an option - we weren’t about to drag my mum and brother along for another wild goose chase.
The following day we popped up to see my mum for a couple of hours before we would set off for a couple of nights in Aviemore, stopping at RSPB Tay Reedbeds on the way. RSPB Tay Reedbeds is a significant nature reserve in Scotland, known for its extensive reedbed habitats along the River Tay estuary. It is one of the largest reedbeds in the UK and provides a critical home for a variety of wildlife, including specialised species. The reserve supports breeding birds such as reed buntings, water rails, and in the spring/summer months species such as sedge warblers. It is especially notable for elusive species such as bearded tits and bitterns. It was the bearded tits we hoped to see.
The reserve is not widely developed for public access, with limited visitor facilities, as its primary purpose is conservation. We parked up in Errol and walked down a footpath to the circular route that partly runs along the edge of the reedbed and parallel to the path of the Tay - the reedbed is enormous. We saw various corvids and then a small flock of meadow pipits. We walked along the path stopping regularly and saw lapwings, gulls and some flyover pink-footed geese.
We found the area that provides access into the reedbed and located several feed and grit trays set within the reeds. Moving along, we stopped near some channels, likely cut to attract and observe bearded tits, and waited there for a while, hoping to catch sight of or hear the calls of these elusive birds. As the light began to fade, our efforts went unrewarded - no calls, no movement, and no sightings. Four days, four dips.
We returned to the car and headed toward Aviemore, noticing the increasing frost and snow as we drove. By the time we arrived at teatime, darkness had fallen, and we settled in for dinner at our hotel. The next morning, we woke to find that only a little more snow had fallen overnight, but the roads presented a different challenge - ice combined with the snow made driving tricky. Progress was slow, and Charlotte grew increasingly nervous as we navigated the slippery conditions. Stopping was possible but required gentle, gradual effort.
Our destination was RSPB Loch Garten, where we hoped to catch sight of a crested tit. At this time of year, the Visitor Centre is unmanned, adding to the silence. Nestled in the heart of the Cairngorms National Park, Loch Garten is famous for its iconic osprey nest in the summer, but in winter, it offers a completely different experience. The reserve had transformed into a tranquil, snow-dusted haven, with serene landscapes and a hushed atmosphere - the loch had frozen, and snow had settled on the ice.
The snow began to fall more heavily as we left the car and ventured into the forest. Along the way, we spotted a handful of tits and a treecreeper, though the treecreeper didn’t linger long enough for a decent photo. A flock of coal tits caught our attention, and I scattered some seed on a nearby bench. We watched as the flock grew, the birds darting frantically between the trees and the bench before retreating to perch on bushes and branches. We held out hope that their activity might attract a crested tit, but no such luck. Overhead, a nuthatch called, but it stayed hidden from view. A jay called frequently, and I caught a glimpse as it flew through the trees and disappeared.
When we reached the Visitor Centre, we found a long nut feeder and took shelter from the snow to watch the flurry of activity. Coal tits, blue tits, great tits, long-tailed tits, and chaffinches flitted around in constant motion. Despite our efforts, there were still no calls or sightings of any crested tits. However, the views from the Centre, like the forest as a whole, were stunning and well worth the visit.
We worked further through the forest and found a few goldcrests working through the undergrowth and a handful more treecreepers. It was looking like we weren't going to find our bird and with the roads as they were and snow falling again it was unlikely we would go further into the forest or along these lanes and tracks in the car. We stayed, hoped and searched for around four hours. Charlotte was getting cold, and we decided to make our way back to Aviemore for a late lunch, seeing more of the forest dwellers as we returned. No crested tit, and zero for five ... lucky I am not on a big year!
We pulled into the car park at the retail park, planning to walk along the main street to find a spot for lunch. Just as I turned off the engine, I was surprised to see one of our closest friends across the car park, fresh from a food shopping trip. We knew she was staying in Kingussie but hadn’t expected to bump into her and her cousin there.
Delighted by the chance meeting, we were invited to join them for dinner that evening. Later, we carefully followed a snowplough as it cleared a path for us on the 10-mile journey to their cottage. It was a perfect way to round off our visit, enjoying a warm meal and great conversation with dear friends in a cozy and beautiful cottage.
