Newhaven & Linky Down :: 12 April 2025

Friday night’s discussion revolved around whether Kev @kev07713 and I should make the effort to catch up with ring ouzels or venture a bit further to try our luck with the woodchat shrike in Newhaven, East Sussex - a species I continue to dip, making it an easy decision for me.

We set off early, but before even reaching the M25, we were delayed by about 20 minutes due to a lorry fire - all but the cab had been destroyed. We pushed on and paused for breakfast on the outskirts of Newhaven before heading down to the pinned location - some expert driving from Mr H got us there smoothly.

As we arrived, we noticed a small group of birders already on site. Just as we stepped out of the car, a bit of excitement sparked as a woman said she had the bird in view. I grabbed my camera, leaving the binoculars and scope for now, while Kev just brought his bins. We joined the search, as it seemed the bird had just dropped deeper into the brambles ...

The woodchat shrike (so I’m told!) is a striking passerine, easily recognised by its bold black-and-white plumage and rich chestnut crown. Males and females look similar, though females tend to appear a little duller. It’s a relatively small bird, roughly an inch larger than a sparrow. Woodchat shrikes breed mainly in southern Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa, and while they’re rare in the UK, they are regular spring visitors, typically seen as overshooting migrants during their northward passage.

They prefer open landscapes with scattered trees or bushes, coastal scrub, heathland, or farmland margins are ideal. Southern coastal areas, such as East Sussex and the Isles of Scilly, are particular hotspots. The individual we were after, a first-winter female, had been frequenting Newhaven Harbour, East Sussex, and had been consistently reported for about a week - first seen on 4th April.

After an hour or so on site, it became increasingly clear the initial sighting may have been a misidentification and that the bird had quietly moved on overnight. The skies had been clear, and a full moon might have encouraged onward migration. We searched along the slope and nearby areas, hoping she might simply be feeding out of sight, but no luck. Still, we were treated to some excellent views of fulmars patrolling the nearby cliff face.

As of 2025, the UK is thought to support around 350,000 breeding pairs of fulmars. About 97% of them breed in Scotland, particularly along the rugged cliffs of the north and west. Although fulmars first bred in England in 1922, they’re now found nesting along many English coastlines. Breeding usually begins in late spring, typically from May onwards, but we observed a pair mating, perhaps a slightly early start, likely encouraged by the warm weather in recent weeks. They nest on steep sea cliffs like those in front of us, laying a single egg per season.

The fulmar’s flight style is one of its most distinctive and captivating traits. With long, narrow wings held stiff and straight, they seem to glide with minimal effort, giving a mechanical, almost ghostlike smoothness to their aerobatic movements. Unlike gulls, which flap frequently and exhibit more flexible wing motion, fulmars lock into the wind, cutting through the air with precision.

We saw several pairs along the cliffs, including one confirmed mating, suggesting this site is likely a reliable breeding location for the species.

We watched as a raven glided down onto a ledge before moving to a large stick nest tucked into a crevice. Not long after, a second bird appeared, likely the male. He stayed for a few minutes before taking off, circling overhead, and then swooping toward a spot where a group of feral pigeons had gathered, scattering them.

Ravens are widespread across the UK, including coastal areas, and seem to be doing well overall. Current estimates put the UK population at somewhere between 7,000 and 12,000 breeding pairs.

This is the largest member of the crow family with a wingspan of 1.2 - 1.5m. They were once rare and persecuted but are now steadily increasing in number thanks to legal protection and rewilding. They have a deep croaky call / "kronk" and once heard is never forgotten; often their call is what alerts you to their approach - or that they are mobbed by other birds, often crows or rooks.

Usually the ravens and fulmars can nest on the same cliffs but occupy different parts as they have very different nesting behaviour and styles. However, as ravens are opportunistic they might predate any unattended fulmar eggs or chicks if given the chance.

Fulmars nests though are usually well-defended - the fulmar's defence tactic is legendary and disgusting! When threatened by predators, the fulmar will forcefully eject a foul-smelling oily substance from its stomach (up to 2 meters) - it is highly effective against feathers and can ruin a predator’s plumage making it unable to fly or waterproof properly, sometimes fatally. While they may look quietly perched on a cliff, they are armed and dangerous!

As we waited, a crow hopped around in front of us and eventually walked along a concrete structure and up onto the fence beside me - he really wanted me to take his photo.

By now, it was pretty clear we’d missed our target bird. However, there were reports of purple sandpipers further down the coast, including a few seen on the wooden pier just behind us - confirmed by one of the local birders. We headed along the road to try and get a view of the lower horizontal beams beneath the pier.

Kev set up his scope on the sea wall while I continued around to the harbour entrance. There, I spotted a couple of birds roosting as the high tide approached. I doubled back to let Kev know - he hadn’t been able to see them from his position, so I dragged him around to where I’d been standing, and sure enough, he got on them - a year tick for him. Newhaven is actually a notable location for purple sandpipers - tough little waders that favour rocky shorelines. The spot we were at is a reliable one at high tide, where they often gather alongside turnstones and rock pipits. I’m lucky to get great views of them along the Ayrshire coast when I visit family there, but it’s always a pleasure to connect with them wherever I can.

We made our way back to the car and stopped to watch three linnets that had been working the field on the opposite side of the fencing through most of the morning. As of the latest data available, the UK's breeding population of linnets is estimated to be between 500,000 and 1,000,000 pairs and consistent with avian population estimate reports published in 2020. While these numbers seem healthy there has been a long-term decline in numbers - 57% between 1970 and 2014 alone. Due to the rate of decline the linnet is now classified as a species of high conservation concern and is included on the UK's Red List.

Linnets are often seen in large flocks, but the ones we came across were likely beginning to pair up for the breeding season, having split away from the bigger groups - flocks of around 90 birds aren’t unusual along this stretch of coastline. One male stood out as he was coming into his breeding plumage, showing a lovely flush of red across his breast. At times, the birds came in quite close, feeding just beyond the low wall on the far side of the fence.

We checked Birdguides to see if there was anything local worth chasing, but everything of interest was over an hour away and would only take us further from home. After a quick chat, we decided to head for Linky Down, part of the Aston Rowant National Nature Reserve. Set atop the Chiltern Hills, the area offers sweeping views across the Oxfordshire Vale. It’s classic chalk downland, well known in summer for its rich variety of wildflowers and butterflies and is a site that in past springs has produced ring ouzels, redstarts, and wheatears.

From the car park, we followed the path along the ridge before descending view over the valley floor. Along the way, we picked up chiffchaff and blackcap, and eventually reached a gate where the entire valley opened out below us. We scanned thoroughly, but aside from pheasants and a dozen or so magpies, there was nothing stirring, not even a blackbird, let alone our hoped-for ring ouzel. Behind us, skylarks called from the fields.

Kev decided to take the weight off, lowering his scope to scan from a seated spot on the grassy slope. I climbed the hill behind us and crossed over to check a patch where I’ve seen ring ouzels in previous years but had no luck today. On my way back, just as I was nearing Kev, I noticed a butterfly flitting low before landing on a bit of scrub. I recognised it instantly, a green hairstreak. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen one before, but there it was. Before I could lift the camera, it took off and vanished over the scrub. Damn.

The green hairstreak is the UK's only truly green butterfly, recognised by its vibrant, metallic green underwings. While widespread across the UK, it is considered local in distribution and is not commonly found in any particular area. Between 1976 and 2019 records show a decline of about 38%, with a 16% reduction in distribution. Despite these declines, the species is not currently listed as threatened in the UK. In 2024, the UK experienced one of the worst years on record for butterflies, with over half of the monitored species showing long-term declines. While specific short-term data for this species isn't detailed, the overall trend suggest continued pressure on its population.

This is a small butterfly and shows bright green wings with a faint streak of white spots but with dull brown upper sides. It rests with its wings closed, making the green underwings visible - adults are typically on the wing from April to June. This reserve’s mix of chalk grassland, scrub and woodland edges creates an ideal habitat for them. They lay their eggs on a range of plants like gorse, broom, bird's-foot trefoil, and blackthorn, all of which are present on the reserve. The south-facing slopes and scrubby edges provide sheltered sunny spots, perfect for basking and feeding.

I mentioned it to Kev, and not long after, I spotted it again - possibly the same one, or maybe another - and pointed out the location. We then watched as this one, and a second, began working the area where I’d first seen one. Before long, we were able to track them as they settled, often returning to the same favoured stems.

Having spent a bit of time with these small butterflies, we started to notice other insect life around us. One that stood out was a dark-edged bee-fly, my first of the year. Kev mentioned he’d seen a few in his garden recently and had shown them to his wife. During the pandemic, when we were all stuck at home, I remember watching a few in my own garden - they seemed particularly fond of my dandelions - a photo in a previous blog.

Eventually, we made our way back to the car, spotting a chiffchaff and a few other species flitting around a water trough, likely stopping for a drink in the pleasantly warm weather. We set off for home and got back earlier than usual. Despite missing our target bird, it had been a thoroughly enjoyable day out.

Year list: 163.

Draycote Water & RSPB Ham Wall :: 04/05 April 2025

On Friday afternoon at work, I kept seeing repeated WhatsApp updates about a passage little gulls at Draycote Water. By mid-afternoon, the count had risen to 31 individuals. Deciding I'd clocked enough hours for the week, I left a bit early, swung by home to grab my camera and scope, and headed to the site hoping some would still be around. On arrival, I discovered the parking system had changed since my last visit - payment was now based on arrival times recorded by camera monitoring, with fees charged at the end of the stay.

I made my way up to the path beside the Visitor Centre and set up the scope to scan the water. At first, there didn’t appear to be any gulls in sight, but through the scope I spotted some movement between Biggin and Toft Bays. Watching carefully, I managed to pick out a gull that was unmistakably a little gull.

The little gull is the world's smallest gull species - adults in summer plumage are characterised by a black head, pale grey back, and dark underwings. Just like black-headed gulls, non-breeding adults display a black cap and ear spot. They are primarily observed during migration, in spring from mid-March to mid-May, especially during east or southeast winds and increasingly with winds accompanied by rain. Autumn sightings are less frequent.

The UK typically hosts between 200 and 800 individuals - notably, little gulls were recorded to successfully breed in the UK for the first time at the Loch of Strathbeg Reserve in 2016. Well worth the money to view them. Their feeding flight is often described as buoyant and fluttery - quick wingbeats, fluttering just above the water's surface picking up insects or small prey off the surface without fully landing. Here at Draycote they were likely taking advantage of hatches of (aquatic?) insects.

I walked along Farborough Dam to the point, where at lower water levels a sandy spit appears. I set up the scope again and watched little gulls work into the wind, feeding in their distinctive way amongst handfuls of herring and lesser black-backed gulls. The gulls were a good 450-500m away and although good to watch on the scope, it would be a more difficult to get a photo - I had a go.

Wing surfing - also called wing foiling - is a watersport that blends elements of windsurfing, kitesurfing, and foiling. Out in the water were a couple of people doing just that. As can be seen in the photo below you use a handheld inflatable wing (not attached to the board or rider) and a board, usually with a hydrofoil - a long fin with wings that lifts the board above the water. Amazing to see out and in the air!

I only had a short window to stay, as I was due back home in time for dinner. But before heading off, I caught sight of three common terns fishing just beyond the little gulls but practically as far away as they could be. Two year ticks for the price of one. I packed up, paid my dues, and made for home.

Kev @kev07713 and I discussed a few options for our Saturday birding trip and settled on RSPB Ham Wall, with glossy ibis and garganey both viewable from VP1 in recent days. Karen @hobbylovinglife and Dean @worlebirder were also going to be on site, from early as they were assisting in a breeding survey - perhaps we'd bump into them later.

Cattle egrets are a familiar sight around the Glastonbury area, with winter roosts sometimes exceeding 700 birds. They’re not often seen on the main reserve, but as I’d yet to tick one off my year list, I was quietly hopeful of spotting one somewhere nearby.

The drive to breakfast was already proving rewarding: we saw two Barn Owls—one quartering a field alongside the road, and another flushed unexpectedly from the roadside verge. Then, in a field next to the M5, two cattle egrets stood among grazing sheep - frustratingly, there would no safe spot to stop! As we left the motorway at the Dunball/Bridgwater exit, another flock of over 50 cattle egrets caught our eye in a field of sheep. We planned to check again on the way out, but by then, they’d moved on.

From the breakfast car park, things kept ticking along - literally. Two oystercatchers were perched on the roof of an industrial building, with sand martins and swallows swooping in the distance. In the reeds beyond, we heard a Cetti’s warbler calling, spotted a reed bunting, and picked out a willow warbler. Who would've thought breakfast could bring two year ticks?

Arriving at the reserve, I waited in the car park while Kev checked out the facilities. A flash of colour caught my eye as a Kingfisher zipped across the car park, heading for the main reserve. A large bird then swooped in from the right, disappearing behind the trees - I tried my best to turn it into a bittern, but it was a grey heron.

We walked on to the bridge and paused before reaching the main track, where we heard a sedge warbler singing, though we couldn't quite locate it. No doubt we’ll tick one soon for the year list - the place was alive with blackcaps in full song.

A little further along, by a narrow drain, we stopped to watch a barn owl being mobbed by a couple of crows before it ducked into cover. At the end of the channel, we spotted Karen and Dean also watching the scene unfold. As I waited, hoping the owl might reappear, a Kingfisher darted low along the reed tops - unseen by Karen and Dean, though they later said they’d heard its call. I pointed out where it had landed, and within moments Kev had it in view.

As we continued toward VP1, the soundtrack of blackcaps and chiffchaffs surrounded us. When we arrived at the viewing platform, a chiffchaff fed just a few feet away, completely unbothered by us or the handful of birders nearby.

From the platform we were able to see three ruff out in the water. Numbers peak during April, as birds move north from wintering grounds (mainly Africa) to their Arctic and sub-Arctic breeding areas. They are most often seen at wetlands, scrapes, flooded meadows, and RSPB reserves with shallow pools such as here. We usually see good numbers of them on the East coast reserves, such as Titchwell, Frampton Marsh, and Cley. We always keep an eye out for white-headed or black-faced males - their breeding plumage is stunningly diverse but none of these individuals were yet in their best plumage.

In the same vicinity we saw a spotted redshank, transitioning to its breeding plumage. March to May is their northbound migration period but peak passage tends to be in April, sometimes lingering into early May. By late spring, most have moved on to their Arctic breeding grounds in Scandinavia and northern Russia. In mid-spring to summer, they sport jet black plumage with subtle white spotting - really striking. It would work around ahead of us, always at distance. A few common redshanks fed close by. Also at distance were a handful of remaining pintails.

As we scanned the area, we spotted several common snipe probing the exposed mud in search of food. Suddenly, a bird darted across the water, possibly a sparrowhawk, sending most of the waders and some ducks into the air. We had actually been hoping for a bit of a shake-up like this, especially with the garganey nowhere in sight and still no sign of the glossy ibis.

I was especially taken with a group of around 30 snipe that took to the air together, circling the pool in front of us before sweeping overhead. After another pass, they settled again, scattering across the pool at distance.

Common snipe are both resident and winter visitors in the UK, but many of the wintering birds head back to northern Europe in spring. Breeding birds do stay, particularly in wetland habitats, and from March to May, they begin their courtship displays. One of the most evocative sounds of the season is the male’s “drumming” flight display - soaring high in circles before diving rapidly, the wind rushing over their outspread tail feathers to create that distinctive, "drumming" sound.

Bitterns continued to call in the distance, though we never quite managed to catch sight of one. A common crane lifted into the air and disappeared far off - probably the same bird Kev had spotted earlier in the morning, though he’d been the only one lucky enough to see it.

Hoping the glossy ibis was simply feeding out of sight, tucked just over the brow between us and the water, I followed the track, crossed a bridge, and continued along another path. This route gave me a view of the area hidden from the platform, but no luck - the ibis wasn’t there.

While scanning the scene, a green sandpiper suddenly took flight and passed by quite close. I was so focused on tracking it through my binoculars that I completely forgot to take a photo! Kev and a few other birders saw it too and confirmed the ID - a year tick.

On the walk back, I heard a Cetti’s warbler calling nearby - close but hidden as ever - and then came across a blackcap singing its heart out in a tree. I couldn’t resist stopping to enjoy the song.

After another twenty minutes or so, one of the other birders on the platform called out ... the glossy ibis was coming in. It landed a little off to the left, only really visible if you stood up on the benches. I took a few photos, but it wasn’t ideal, so I decided to loop back around in the hope of getting a clearer view from the other track.

That decision paid off. I ended up taking quite a few shots, and eventually got some I was happy with, as the ibis emerged from the denser cover and moved into better light.

Once a mega rarity in the UK, the glossy ibis has become increasingly regular over the past two decades, with sightings now annual and sometimes long-staying. Though still scarce, their numbers are definitely growing. Kev had already seen one at Summer Leys in Northamptonshire, where a bird has been present since November 2024 - five months and counting.

This bird gave excellent views. Glossy ibises are surprisingly confiding when feeding, and I had the chance to properly take in the stunning iridescence, the glossy greens, bronzes, and purples catching the light.

I returned to VP1 and rejoined Kev - he was getting a bit restless, as I’d been gone a while. We decided to head down to VP2 after Karen called to say an osprey had passed overhead in that direction. She’d even sent a photo. We figured it might have been hard to spot from VP1, and if it was still around, VP2 could offer a better view.

As we wandered along the track, blackcap and chiffchaff called from the hedgerows, and a sparrowhawk zipped through. I was trailing slightly behind Kev and missed a peregrine he caught sight of. But I did get a great view of a great white egret just off to our left in the drain - it was surprisingly close and didn’t seem at all bothered by people watching it.

I always tend to associate great white egrets with yellowish-orange bills, as some of the birds here were showing. This one, however, had a black bill and is likely an adult in breeding plumage. The colour change typically occurs between March and May as they prepare to court and nest. Its sheer size also gave it away.

Great white egrets have become regular breeders in the UK, particularly in southern England. By 2021, the British population had grown to around 50 breeding pairs, which fledged 73 young that year. In 2023, a record 88 chicks fledged from 53 nests in the here in the Avalon Marshes area of Somerset. Judging by the activity around the reserve, it looks like this success might well be repeated this year.

When we reached VP2, we noticed several birds dropping into the reeds, possibly suggesting breeding behaviour. Karen and Dean were nearby, keeping tabs on this and other signs of nesting activity. We agreed to catch up with them later for a chat. There were birds out on the water, but still no sign or sound of bitterns.

A reed warbler called further down the track, and when Karen and Dean arrived, I thought I glimpsed it relocate, but not clearly enough to tick it for the year list. It won’t be long, though. Overhead, we saw a scattering of marsh harriers, a few red kites, several buzzards, and another sparrowhawk cruising the sky.

We made our way back down to VP1 for one last check, hoping the garganey might finally be showing, but no such luck. The same mix of birds was still present, though we were briefly entertained by two unusually bold chaffinches hopping around Karen and Dean’s feet.

Eventually, we decided to pull stumps and head to the car park. Karen and Dean had shared a tip about a nearby site with a known little owl tree, not too far from the reserve, so we figured it was worth a try.

On the way back, we paused at the stone bridge to watch a few grass snakes basking in the sun, curled up along the warm stonework. We stood for a while, before meeting Karen and Dean at the reserve café for a quick drink and a snack. Then, we set off for our final target of the day.

We arrived at the spot and parked our cars safely further up the lane, out of the way of any passing traffic. Then we walked back down, scanning the trees for any sign of our target. It only took a few minutes before I spotted a pair of eyes staring right back at me - I called the others over.

Spring is a great time to watch little owls, as they become more active and easier to spot. They nest in tree cavities, old buildings, and occasionally barns, laying their eggs around April and May. With their distinctive features and quirky behaviour, they’re always a delight to watch - full of character.

As usual, I took far too many photos.

A chap stopped for a chat and mentioned there were footpaths running through the nearby field, though they wouldn't offer a better angle on the branch the owl had chosen and might risk disturbing it. So, we kept our distance and simply enjoyed the view.

All too soon we were back at the car and saying our goodbyes. Another cracking day birding in the southwest - Karen and I joked about seeing each other next weekend as we have met up on each of the last three. I wonder what we'll do and where we'll be next weekend ...

Year list: 161.