The Turkestan shrike (also referred to as red-tailed shrike) is a small passerine bird known for its striking plumage and characteristic predatory behaviour. Its breeding range is central Asia, mainly from southern Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and northern Iran eastward into western China. It then winters by migrating south to the Arabian Peninsula, Pakistan, and northwestern India and prefers open scrubland, semi-desert, farmland edges, and thorny bush areas. It was once considered a subspecies of the red-backed shrike or Isabelline shrike, but is now generally treated as a distinct species, though classification can vary between authorities.
According to the British Trust for Ornithology, there had been 12 records of Turkestan shrike in the UK. However, a 13th turned up last weekend at Dunwich Heath National Trust in Suffolk and while I was away work abroad during the week, Kev @kev07713 did the sensible thing and went with his wife Karen to see it - he had seen one at RSPB Bempton Cliffs back in July 2022, but his wife hadn't seen it then.
The bird has been very visible, offering birders superb viewing opportunities. It has been observed actively hunting, catching prey like dragonflies and bees, and displaying classic shrike behaviour by impaling food on gorse for later. Perched prominently on bushes, it has allowed for clear and prolonged observation - there have been some cracking photos.
Kev and I discussed our options for Saturday: the Turkestan shrike, which would be a lifer for me; the Baird’s sandpiper at Rutland Water; or the greater short-toed lark, also a lifer for me, at the Snettisham Coastal Path. Since we had both seen Baird’s sandpipers before, the real decision came down to the other two. Both were species Kev had already seen, but I leaned toward the shrike because of the potential for perching and flight photos. Kev was happy with that plan, and I offered to drive since he had already made the journey a few days earlier.
On the way, we stayed in touch with our friends Adrian Sparrowhawk, Bryan Manson, and Mark, who were also heading to the site and apparently only about ten minutes behind us. We stopped at Greggs for a breakfast roll and coffee, waiting for them to catch up. The venue itself was a bit rough, but that didn’t concern us; soon we were back in the cars, with Adrian following me.
We were only 30 minutes from the site and arrived perfectly as the car park was being opened - a man was unlocking the gate that normally prevented access. Interestingly, the car park wasn’t scheduled to open until 9.00am., but it was only 8.30am. when we got there - some people had parked up along the road and had walked in. We drove to the car park by the Visitor Centre, and Kev paid for parking - Bryan, being a National Trust member, received a whole £1 discount.
As we passed other birders, they confirmed that the Turkestan shrike had not yet been seen. We joined the group near its last reported location, looking back to where two birders were staking out the spot Kev had seen it earlier in the week. Like many shrike species, Turkestan shrikes are diurnal hunters: they often start perching and scanning for prey at dawn but typically wait until insects and other prey become active before hunting in earnest. Overnight temperatures had been cold, and it was still quite cool, so hopefully the bird was still roosting.
There were more than a dozen people scanning for the shrike, and after taking a look ourselves, we left Adrian, Bryan, and Mark to continue watching. It seemed possible the bird had moved on, but with so many eyes on it, any reappearance would be quickly reported - and we would be less than ten minutes away. Meanwhile, a yellow-browed warbler had been reported closer to the entry gate the day before, so we made our way down, spotting various warblers and pipits along the route. Scanning over the sea revealed only seals and herring gulls.
We stopped at a clearing where there was plenty of movement among tits and finches and set about working through the flock. Blue, great, and long-tailed tits were joined by chaffinches, blackcaps, and goldfinches. Ten siskins flew over, and a striking male continental blackbird made an appearance before chiffchaffs and goldcrests then showed up.
At one point, we heard a call we didn’t recognise and tried the Merlin app, which suggested a blackpoll warbler - three times. We did see a warbler pass through that we couldn’t identify, but it’s likely a mis-ID - the app can be prone to errors with some species. That said, there have been a few blackpoll warbler sightings in the UK this autumn. These rare North American migrants would be a thrill to spot, and Dulwich Heath could have been another stop on their incredible journey though, in this case, the mystery remains.
We’d heard woodlarks and great spotted woodpeckers calling, with one woodpecker dropping into a tree right in front of us as a few more siskins passed overhead. Adrian rang to say they were heading off to try for the greater short-toed lark at Snettisham, and we wished them luck. We made our way slowly back to where the shrike had been, finding the area quiet - most of the birders had already moved on.
We looked on Birdguides and noted that a yellow-browed warbler had been reported along the coast at St Peter & St Paul's Church, Aldeburgh - the churchyard seems to be a regular spot for these yellow-browed warblers with records now in 2025, 2024, 2022, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2014, and 2012. We'd not found the one here at Dunwich Heath and decided to try Aldeburgh for our first of the autumn.
The yellow-browed warbler is a tiny, energetic leaf warbler from Siberia that has become a much-loved autumn visitor to the UK. It is very small and similar to a goldcrest with plumage that has bright greenish upperparts, pale underparts and distinct yellowish supercilium (“eyebrow”), dark eyestripe, and two whitish wing bars. It breeds across northern Asia, from the Ural Mountains through Siberia to far eastern Russia and winters mainly in South and Southeast Asia. In Europe it is a classic autumn vagrant, appearing in the UK from late September to November in increasing numbers. Once a rare vagrant, the yellow-browed warbler has become a regular autumn migrant, with hundreds recorded annually, particularly along the east coast.
We arrived at the church and made our way from the car park to the spot where the yellow-browed warbler had last been reported. Within five minutes, we heard a sharp, rising “tswee-eet”, often the best clue to the presence of this tiny migrant. The bird perched briefly at the top of a tree directly behind us, staying for only ten seconds before flitting across our heads to a tree further along the path.
We followed it as it moved, soon joined by another birder, whom we helped onto the bird. It remained quite vocal, calling persistently before relocating again and again. The warbler darted through the dense trees with astonishing energy, barely pausing as it threaded among branches and foliage. Its small, bright body was glimpsed only fleetingly, the pale underparts and greenish upperparts catching occasional flashes of light as it twisted, hopped, and foraged.
Watching it demanded patience, as we scanned the tangled branches and shadowy gaps, tracking this restless bird as it wove through the canopy. Even following it was a challenge and photographing it proved even trickier - the bird was often partly obscured by twigs, branches, and leaves, making each clear view feel like a small victory.
We spent the next couple of hours watching and photographing the warbler, chatting with a steady stream of fellow birders - at times there were up to ten birders around. Capturing a good photo proved no easier than tracking the bird itself, and many were just as frustrated as Kev and I. I did manage a few shots I was pleased with, though. It was also excellent practice for Kev with his new camera - his first real birding challenge with a bird staying with the trees - and given how elusive the warbler was, it tested his patience almost to the limit.
The bird moved frequently, and as it shifted through different lighting, its colours revealed themselves in fleeting glimpses.
The bird showed almost continuously, though many of the photos were partly obscured by foliage - but in a way, I didn’t mind; it reflected the reality of the views we were getting. We considered leaving a couple of times, yet each time the chance of another good look persuaded us to stay a little longer. There was still just enough time to get back before my evening visitors arrived. Eventually, the bird melted into an even denser patch of trees, and sightings became increasingly difficult. When it finally reappeared, we had one last go at some photos, though I doubt we improved on what we’d already managed.
Although I was disappointed not to see the Turkestan shrike (and Kev was on my behalf), the excellent views of the yellow-browed warbler helped make up for it on another fine day out.
Year list: 240.
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