With Easter upon us, we made our Easter Monday journey north to visit family in Scotland, settling in Seamill, conveniently close to Mum and my youngest brother. Remarkably, the forecast promised a full week of fair weather, offering the perfect opportunity to squeeze in some early morning birding before breakfast each day.
On the first morning, I set out just before sunrise, heading for Bogside Flats. I'd missed grasshopper warblers in both Oxfordshire and Northamptonshire in recent weeks, but I knew a breeding population could be found here, just off the Irvine Golf Course. Grasshopper warblers are elusive summer visitors to Scotland, arriving from Africa to breed between April and August. Their presence is most often detected by their distinctive, insect-like reeling song, which can be heard at dawn, dusk, and even sometimes throughout the night.
On arrival, both male and female grasshopper warblers commence nest-building close to the ground, using materials like grass, sedge, and moss. Egg-laying typically occurs from mid-May to early July, with clutches of 3–7 eggs. Both parents share incubation duties for 12–15 days, and the chicks fledge approximately 12–13 days after hatching. It's common for them to raise two broods within the breeding season.
They favour habitats with dense vegetation, such as reedbeds, rough grasslands, scrub areas, and young plantations. In Scotland, they are more frequently found in the western regions, however, their numbers have declined significantly in recent decades, leading to their classification as a Red List species in the UK.
I parked at the golf club and followed the public footpath down to the edge of the reedbeds, where I immediately heard two grasshopper warblers reeling. One was tucked away in the grassland, low in sparse cover with no obvious perch in sight, so I focused on the bird off to my left. There was more structure for it to reel from there, and I began scanning carefully while it sang, but I just couldn’t spot it.
Eventually, I got lucky: the bird flew into a patch of grass, giving me my first sighting of the trip - tick!, though I didn't manage a photo. I waited for it to start reeling again, hoping for a better view, but it remained elusive. I decided to follow the path that runs alongside the fence bordering the golf course, to a spot that’s given me good views in the past.
Further along, I came across two more grasshopper warblers reeling inside the fence, among the gorse. Again, no luck with a photo, but I was accompanied by a chorus of skylarks and willow warblers as I walked. Reaching a corner where I’ve previously had great views, I found yet another bird in full song, this time joined by a calling sedge warbler.
After a couple of minutes, I managed to spot the grasshopper warbler tucked into the back of a shrub along the hedgerow. I grabbed a few photos before it dropped into some brambles, pausing in full view just long enough for a shot. When it started reeling again, I found it more easily, this time perched more visibly if I was willing to balance myself on the slope of the mound for a better look. Success! This spot comes through once again. Even further left a sixth bird reeled.
On the walk back, I kept an ear out for anything notable and saw a whooper swan out in a pool, and a stonechat perched.
Pleased with the views and with no other obvious targets around, I jumped in the car and made for Saltcoats - I'd missed out on black guillemots during my January visit, so this seemed like a good chance to catch up with them.
I arrived in Saltcoats with fingers crossed, hoping to finally connect with some Black Guillemots. I'd drawn a blank during my January visit, so this felt like a good opportunity with the calm weather on my side.
I made my way along the seafront, scanning the harbour and rocky shoreline. It didn’t take long - just off the breakwater, I picked out the distinctive black-and-white plumage of a pair bobbing on the water, their red legs flashing as they paddled about. Classic black guillemots. Two became four, then four became twelve. Unlike most auk species, they breed in small loose colonies rather than huge cliffs and are common around harbours and man-made structures such as the walls of this harbour - they are confiding in the harbour, allowing for close views. I took some photos and moved onto the rocky stretch outside Oscar's cafe where a few waders usually hang out.
As I approached, a couple of dozen turnstones were busy feeding in the dried seaweed, occasionally shifting down toward the water’s edge. While scanning through them, I spotted a purple Sandpiper emerging from the rocks, soon joined by a second - they both worked their way along the shoreline to the left. This spot is a reliable one for them - purple sandpipers are tough, coastal waders that spend the winter along rocky UK shores. The Ayrshire coast, including Saltcoats, Troon, and Girvan, are well-known hotspots for these hardy birds.
I made it back to the car and made a last scan of the water and picked out two very distant red-throated divers through my scope, then a single black-throated.
My time birding had come to an end for the day as I had to get back to the hotel for a shower, breakfast, a walk on Seamill Beach with Charlotte where I came across three purple sandpipers, lunch with mum, and then travel to Croy to see my brother's new house.
Birding Day 2 arrived, and I decided to visit Stevenston Point, again leaving early and arriving soon after sunrise. The Point's position along the Firth of Clyde makes it an excellent location for observing seabirds and waders with regular sightings including gannets, Manx shearwaters, and occasional skuas - but not the last two today. The rocky shoreline and adjacent sandy beaches attract waders such as purple sandpipers, turnstones, ringed plovers, dunlin, and oystercatchers. The area is also known for eiders. My main target were sanderlings as I had missed them on my last visit - they are usually regular here and I've had flocks of more than a hundred on occasions.
I began by scanning the water, and before long, I picked out a red-throated diver at a reasonable distance offshore. It had already developed much of its summer plumage and looked striking against the sea. In breeding condition, these birds are far more elegant than their drab winter appearance suggests. The deep red throat patch, set against a soft grey neck, is the defining feature, earning the species its name. Its slender bill, often held slightly upward, is another classic ID feature, and in the right light, its red eyes shine clearly.
I continued to scan hoping to find my target birds - sanderling - I continued to see birds out on/over the water; a pair of eiders flew through, red-breasted mergansers, more red-throated divers, gannets, razorbills, and more - but no sanderling.
On the rocks there was also some interest with dunlin, ringed plovers, purple sandpipers, and rock pipits.
Eventually, I spotted a sizable flock of sanderling gathered on the beach south of the Point. I began to work my way around to approach them, aiming to drop down for a better view. Unfortunately, before I could get close, the birds flushed, disturbed by a few large gulls landing nearby, and took off in a flurry of wings. I managed a couple of record shots of them in flight as they wheeled away, only to see them settle further up the beach in a more awkward-to-reach bay.
Undeterred, I looped back to see if I could get closer, snapping a few photos as I went. Predictably, they were soon up again, this time moving back down the beach in my direction and past. Really? I followed once more, and at last, they stayed put just long enough for a few closer shots, but not for much longer than that.
Deciding I'd had good enough views, and that they clearly weren't in the mood to cooperate, I called it a day and made my way back to the Point.
On the way back I came across a chap in a high-vis vest cycling along the path - he was being followed by a drone ... presumably his! Cyclists are apparently increasingly using drones equipped with "Follow Me" or "ActiveTrack" modes to capture dynamic footage of their rides. These drones autonomously track and film the rider, allowing for hands-free operation and video content generation. Regardless, it was a very strange sight!
I then came across a couple of stonechats that seemed to be active in provisioning nests.
Back on the Point I finished by watching a gannet make multiple dives off the pier structure and I decided to photograph it as it plunged into the sea. Out to the left at distance were three more red-throated divers.
With the morning getting on, I jumped back into the car and headed to the hotel for a well-earned breakfast. Although I ventured out for another walk afterwards, I didn’t manage to add any new sightings.
The following morning, I decided to return to Stevenston Point for another scan of the water. It wasn’t long before a single sandwich tern flew past, a welcome year tick, though it remained frustratingly distant in the early light. Shifting my attention north along the coast, I was pleasantly surprised to spot an otter swimming in the small bay to my right. It dived repeatedly, providing a few minutes of great entertainment. Thanks to my impeccable fieldcraft, as you’ll see in the photos, the otter remained completely unaware of my presence. Otters are known to inhabit the Ayrshire coastline, and while they are generally elusive and more active during nighttime, there are reasonably regular daytime sightings posted on the Ayrshire Wildlife Facebook page.
I began scanning the water and soon picked out distant red-throated divers, along with gulls and gannets actively feeding offshore. Later in the morning, razorbills and guillemots would also make an appearance. A group of three red-breasted mergansers flew past, followed by a lone bird and then a pair of eiders, with more seen feeding further north along the Point.
In the distance to the south, I spotted a small group of ducks and waited as they gradually moved closer, close enough for a record shot. They turned out to be common scoter. At first, I thought they might be my first of the year but then recalled a lone bird I'd seen associating with a surf scoter in South Devon during a visit for Cirl bunting.
I spotted a group of sanderlings on the beach to the north, but they were being repeatedly flushed by a few dog walkers and never seemed to settle, circling out to sea before returning even farther from my position. With little chance of a closer view, I headed back to the hotel for breakfast.
The following morning, I skipped birding entirely, knowing I had a long drive home ahead and would need the rest, especially with an early start planned the next day for a birding trip with Kev. It wasn’t until later, when Charlotte and I went out for a walk, that I saw any birdlife at all.
As always along that stretch of coast, there are good numbers of curlews, some flying low along the water’s edge, others feeding among the rocks. One, however, gave us a lovely moment as it flew in and landed gracefully on a patch of grass between us and the shoreline.
As we walked further, we were serenaded by a willow warbler singing from somewhere in the bushes at the edge of the houses. Soon after, we came across a very showy sedge warbler - we’d heard one earlier but not seen it. This individual was particularly bold, perched proudly atop a bush and singing with gusto, occasionally darting off before returning to the same spot to continue its display.
From there, it was a short drop down onto the sand. As we reached the beach, Charlotte mentioned she'd seen an interesting bird, though it had been flushed by a couple sitting on some rocks nearby. We found a spot to sit, and before long, a female wheatear appeared on the sand - “That’s the one,” Charlotte confirmed. I stood and managed to get a few photos before it flew farther along the beach. As I followed, I passed the bird, now busy catching flies. When I looked back, I was pleased to see the male had also appeared. Eventually, I returned to Charlotte, and we watched the male feeding from the same rocks the couple had previously occupied.
While Charlotte continued a little farther along the beach, I waited and took in the view. When she returned, we began making our way back toward the village shops to pick up a few provisions. On the walk back, my attention was suddenly caught by a bird flying low over the water, heading north, a red-throated diver. I don’t recall seeing many of these along this stretch of coastline, so it was a nice surprise.
Almost back at the hotel, we paused for one final look out to sea and were treated to the cheerful song of a common whitethroat nearby. It gave us a lovely send-off as it sang from the bushes. I managed to grab a few photos before we packed up and made our way off.
It is great to have an opportunity to do a bit of birding without it impacting the rest of the day, the light rising so early now. Some nice birds and a great time with the family.
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