Eyebrook Reservoir never disappoints and this Saturday, Kev @kev07713 and I spent a few hours scanning from the side of the reservoir, and once again the place delivered a great mix of birds.
We’d set out with one particular target in mind: osprey. Eyebrook is a well-known site for them, especially when they drop in to fish, and it’s always one of the most reliable spots to add one to the year list. That said, our timing was a little later in the season than when we’d usually visit, so there was a touch of uncertainty - there were recent reports though.
Our first stop was the small parking area overlooking the water. From there, we could take in the usual spread of wildfowl scattered across the reservoir, a reassuring start but not the main reason we’d come. The real draw lay further along, down in the shallows, where the receding water had left stretches of exposed mud. These muddy fringes often act like magnets for waders, pulling in a changing cast of species.
After a short scan and a few notes on what was immediately in view, we decided to press on. The perimeter road that skirts Eyebrook is ideal for working methodically along the edges, and it wasn’t long before we found ourselves edging further down to find what the mud might be holding.
Common terns were the first to catch our attention, graceful as always. Among them were juveniles, still with that fresh, neat plumage and a touch of hesitancy in their flight compared to the adults. It was good to see signs of successful breeding and repicates what we've encountered at other sites.
It didn’t take long before the wader activity began to show. A busy flock of ruff was scattered across the mud, feeding in that slightly restless, jerky way of theirs, heads dipping down constantly, picking and probing, sometimes wading deeper to sweep their bills through the shallows. Among them, smaller dunlin bustled about, darting quickly between around the larger birds, the two species creating a shifting pattern as they fed side by side.
We saw three waders coming in from distance - three greenshank flew in, their elegant long legs dangling before they dropped onto the edge of the mud. For a few minutes they stood out beautifully against the paler ruff, probing the water with that deliberate, rhythmic motion that marks them out instantly - but the ruff weren’t in a welcoming mood. Before long, they surged at the new arrivals, chasing the greenshank further along the shoreline. The encounter was brief before the greenshanks flew across the bay and onto the opposite shore, but it added a sudden burst of energy to the scene.
Time marched on and we wern't seeing any unusual terns or our target osprey - scanning along the reservoir I spotted a juvenile peregrine as swept the far shore and then through in a classic fly-by, quick enough to leave everything momentarily on edge, with terns rising to push it through. It was all over in an instant but we would see the bird briefly a couple more times but at distance.
Not long after, a juvenile marsh harrier appeared, quartering slowly across the far shore of the reservoir, its flight powerful but unhurried. Its rich, chocolate-brown plumage caught the light beautifully, set off by the striking cream crown and throat that mark out a young bird. Compared to the blistering speed of the peregrine we’d seen earlier, the harrier’s progress was almost leisurely - broad wings held in that classic shallow “V” rocking gently as it quartered the reedbed edges.
It was again the terns that seem to take the responsibiity of ushering the bird through but instead it turned back and worked along the reed line in the opposite direction, not stalling as they do when thinking of dropping onto prey. Two young raptors in one session; fantastic timing.
As the morning wore on, we were more than content to soak up the comings and goings on the mud, but there was still no sign of our main target. After nearly four hours of scanning, we admitted defeat on the osprey front and decided a change of scene was in order. Rutland Water beckoned with the promise of coffee, cake, and perhaps a fresh bird or two.
We pulled in at Rutland Water Park and spent a while scanning the open water and spits. Gulls and terns were scattered across the spits, the usual assortment shifting positions - cormorants moved through steadily, but before long they began to gather in a purposeful flock. Working together, they drove a shoal of fish into one of the bays. The spectacle quickly drew in the terns, which dived into the concentrated fish, before returning to the spits, bills gleaming with their catch.
Two large gulls had been sitting on the spit in front of us and I'd assumed they were herring gulls - they stood up and quickly drew my attention - yellow legged gulls, and my first of the year. Yellow-legged gulls are an interesting one for the UK birder - not rare enough to be a true scarcity, but never quite common either, so they always feel like a good bird to pin down. are primarily a southern European species, breeding around the Mediterranean and into parts of central Europe. In the UK they’re treated as a scarce but regular visitor, especially in late summer and early autumn. They don’t breed here (though there are occasional reports of mixed-pair attempts), but they turn up reliably each year. Peak season is July to September, when post-breeding dispersal brings birds north into the UK. Places like Rutland Water, Grafham Water, and the Cotswold Water Park see fairly regular birds.
After our coffee and cake we decided to relocate again and visit Hanging Houghton - on the route home. There had been reports of whinchat, common redstarts and a hen harrier earlier and you never know your luck.
We arrived to find Stuart Mundy @MundyStuart coming the other way - I already knew from Facebook that it was his birthday, so we paused to pass on our best wishes. Stuart mentioned he might swing back later, though he reported that the birds seen earlier had all gone to ground when he’d checked. We left hoping our luck might turn up something ...
We got out of the car and started up a track when Kev paused to scan the hedgerow - sure enough, he’d picked out a couple of whinchats perched distantly on the hedge line. Wanting a closer look, I edged forward to cut the distance in half. Just then another birder appeared from the opposite direction, and by the time he reached the bottom of the hedge the birds had taken flight - whether flushed by him or me, I knew exactly what Kev was thinking.
Fortunately, the whinchats hadn’t gone far. They dropped into the adjacent field and began working their way around the patches of scrub, giving us good but distant views. As we watched, more birds showed themselves until we had at least five in sight. The other birder lingered for a short while, clearly pleased when we pointed them out as he’d missed them earlier when he’d passed that same hedge.
We returned down the track and soon crossed paths with Stuart, who had just come back from checking for yellow wagtails. As we chatted, Kev suddenly called out, a raptor had skimmed low along the nearest hedge line before pitching up into a tree. For a moment there was some debate: peregrine or sparrowhawk? The way it hugged the hedge and its quick, darting flight gave the answer - it was a male sparrowhawk - confirmed when I was sent to investigate along the track.
We chatted with Stuart for a while and scanned looking for signs of the hen harrier or common redstart. Despite being within a few hundred metres of Elenor she posted an update "Goshawk seen well slowly circling in area below Hanging Houghton and bird drifted off towards Brixworth. Also, family of Hobby 's and 2 Osprey over. All seen whilst scanning from a high point and within a 10 min window". Where were we when all this was happening - just shows you've got to be observant.
We packed up and headed for home.
It was a Bank Holiday weekend, and on Monday, with Charlotte off playing pickleball, I took the chance to slip out in search of a little stint reported at Farmoor. The bird had been seen the previous day and again that morning.
I set off along the causeway, scanning carefully along both water’s edges as I went. Nearing the far end, I paused to chat with a birder coming back the other way. He’d just seen the stint but said it had flown from the end of the causeway, possibly back past me. With that, I turned and retraced my steps. It didn’t take long before the little stint came into view through my binoculars, busy and confiding. We soon caught up with it properly, and the bird showed beautifully.
The little stint is the smallest of the regular Calidris sandpipers seen in Britain. They don’t breed here - their nesting grounds are in the high Arctic of Scandinavia and Russia, but they pass through the UK on migration. August to October is the peak time to catch up with little stints in Britain, as juveniles make their southward journey to Africa. Most records fall in September.
After taking photos I stopped to talk with the young birder and discovered his name was Tim Salkeld @SalkeldTim, a birder from around Chippenham, Wiltshire. Very nice lad.
We also picked out a lone ringed plover, but with lunchtime likely approaching by the time I’d get back home, I didn’t linger for long.
Year list: 231.
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