After a long week away, it felt good to be back home. A quick chat with Kev @kev07713 soon had us hatching a plan: a trip to Norfolk’s Winterton Dunes NNR. The draw was a long-staying lesser grey shrike - still missing from my life list and too good an opportunity to pass up - Kev had seen one before butt had limited views as it had been flushed by someone flying a Gyr falcon. We’d visited Winterton-on-Sea before, to see a pallid swift a couple of years back, but I’d never actually explored the dunes themselves. Kev however had been down to the dunes to see an Asian desert warbler around this time last year, but not as far along from the village.
Winterton Dunes is an extensive dune system on the Norfolk coast, designated as a National Nature Reserve (NNR) covering about 109 ha. It lies within the Norfolk Coast AONB and is part of the larger Winterton-Horsey Dunes Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and Special Area of Conservation. The walk through the dunes is along tracks with surfaces circa 60% soft (sand) and 40% firmer, so it can be tiring underfoot.
Ecologically, Winterton is interesting because it shows stronger affinities with acidic dune systems (such as in the Baltic) than the more calcareous dunes typical of North Norfolk. The reserve contains a mosaic of habitats: shifting and fixed dunes, dune heath, wet “slacks” (low, damp areas between dunes), dune grassland, scattered scrub, and transitions into grazing marsh and birch woodland.
Birders prize this site because of its position on the east coast migration corridor, the variety of habitats, and opportunities for sea-watching. Spring and Autumn are the prime seasons for migrant passage with April–May and August–October being especially good for warblers, flycatchers, and rarities.
The area supports other wildlife including large populations of dark green fritillary and grayling butterflies, along with small copper, common blue etc. Natterjack toads breed in shallow dune pools and slacks; their calls apparently carrying over distances in suitable conditions. Winterton is close to several seal colonies, and in winter months the seal colony from nearby Horsey expands to include the Winterton area.
We parked up in the village and soon fell into conversation with a couple of dog-walkers, who laughed that they’d avoid the dunes so as not to disturb the birds. Clearly, our binoculars, scopes, and cameras gave us away as birders. Within minutes we were up on the dunes and heading out along the track. A BirdGuides update at 7.10am had already reassured us the bird was still present, and returning birders confirmed it was showing well.
There had also been reports of a male red-backed shrike, so we kept an eye out as we walked, though the only birds along the way were meadow pipits, goldfinches, greenfinches, dunnocks, crows, and woodpigeons. We soon fell in step with another birder, who had seen the shrike the day before but was heading back for second helpings. The walk from the village was just under a mile, and as we approached, we spotted a lone figure standing barely twenty metres from the bird - my lifer. Time to try for a photo. Before we reached him, however, the shrike lifted and flew into the scrub behind, prompting us to alter our route so the sun would be at our backs as we viewed.
The lesser grey shrike is a striking, grey-backed bird with a distinctive black mask and pale underparts. Females and juveniles are duller, with brownish or mottled tones and at about 20 cm long, it’s smaller than the great grey shrike. It prefers open lowlands with scattered bushes or trees and often perches conspicuously, scanning for large insects and small prey, which it sometimes impales on thorns or barbed wire. It breeds across South and Central Europe, winters in sub-Saharan Africa, and is a rare but regular vagrant in the UK - probably 2-3 individuals a year with most sightings occurring in spring (May–June) or autumn (September).
The lesser grey shrike often perches up on a bush or fence post, scanning the ground. We watched it pausing to give a quick scratch before suddenly dropping down onto the sand to snatch up a beetle. This kind of sallying behaviour, spotting prey from a vantage point, then swooping down to seize it, is typical of shrikes and one of the best ways to watch their hunting technique in action. We watched it eat bees, wasps and an array of beetles.
The shrike proved to be fairly mobile, gradually moving out towards the line of taller dunes that rose between us and the sea. From our more distant vantage point we kept it in view, though it often dropped behind cover. While scanning the area, our attention was briefly diverted by the unmistakable harsh call of a ring-necked parakeet carrying from the treeline on our side of the dunes, but distant. After a while we picked it up as it flew across, its green plumage catching the light. Not long after, a pair of jays appeared in the same area, flashing their blue wing patches as they moved along the trees.
While we were watching a Dartford warbler, some stonechats, and a lesser grey shrike behind, my brother called my mobile. As I chatted with him and wished him a happy birthday, a paraglider drifted overhead. Flying along this stretch offers the perfect combination of thrill and stunning natural scenery, from dunes and marshes to the open sea. The wind conditions along the Norfolk coast are usually favourable for gliding, especially off the dunes, making it most popular from spring through autumn when the weather is at its best.
Each September, these skies burst into life as flocks of pink-footed geese make their way back to our shores, their pale pink feet catch the sunlight as they wheel and glide across the horizon, calling to one another in a lively chorus of honks. Beyond the trees, looking inland away from the sea, we could spot skeins of pink-footed geese stretching across the sky though sadly, they were too distant for clear views or to hear their calls.
I checked BirdGuides and saw that there were still no reports of the local red-backed shrike, but black-throated divers had been spotted on the far side of the dunes from where we stood. Kev feigned indifference until one of the other birders nearby mentioned that a Leach’s petrel had been seen the day before - before we knew it, we were heading off for a spot of sea watching.
We crested the dune and dropped down to the edge above the beach, soon spotting a guillemot bobbing on the water in its winter plumage. Far out, a couple of gannets drifted on the sea, before a juvenile flew past closer to the shore. Just off the shore at Winterton Dunes, seals glide gracefully through the surf, their sleek bodies cutting through the waves with ease. The crashing breakers send white spray into the air, and the seals rode the swell, occasionally surfacing to breathe, their dark eyes and whiskered faces peeking above the frothy water. Sunlight glinted off their wet fur and they twisted and turned playfully, perfectly at home in the churning, salt-scented waters of the North Sea.
Singles and small flocks of teal and wigeon drifted past, and soon we began picking out black-throated and red-throated divers on the water. Most of the birds were already moulting into their winter plumage, with the black-throated divers keeping their distance. We were lucky, though, as a few red-throated divers passed a little closer to the shore. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, with the sun shining and warming us in our fleeces and hoodies as we scanned around with our scopes.
Suddenly Kev called to let me know that he'd picked an Arctic skua coming across from our right - it was quite far out but was unmistakeable. In September, Arctic skuas are a notable presence along the Norfolk coast, including Winterton Dunes. These seabirds are highly migratory, breeding in the Arctic and spending most of their year in the open ocean. At this time of year, they are most often observed offshore or near the surf, taking advantage of coastal winds to conserve energy while heading south.
Their fast and powerful flight makes them adept at chasing other seabirds, particularly terns, to steal their catches - and there were two sandwich terns just ahead of it. Their presence is most notable during periods of strong northerly or easterly winds, which bring them closer to shore.
They are medium-sized seabirds whose plumage varies widely. Adult pale morphs are mostly brownish-grey on the back and wings, with a lighter underside and show a distinctive white flash on the primary wing feathers, especially visible in flight. Adult dark morphs are almost chocolate-brown overall, but also with the white wing flash. Their tail is slightly forked, shorter than that of the larger skuas, giving a streamlined appearance in flight.
Our bird continued along the coast, eventually giving up its chase of the two sandwich terns and heading north toward Horsey Gap. We were able to follow it for some time before it drifted too far away to see clearly, even with our scopes.
Three Brent geese passed just offshore, returning to the UK from their wintering grounds. Their dark, compact bodies cut a steady line through the sea air, wings beating with effortless rhythm. The sunlight glinted off their glossy black heads and necks as they continued steadily along the coast, skimming past the breakers, before disappearing out of sight.
We were still enjoying ourselves on the shore when a BirdGuides update reported the red-backed shrike, so we packed up and made our way back to the pin drop. Upon arrival, the birders already there said the last sighting had been of the shrike flying from the dunes into the main body of trees. A couple of others mentioned that the bird had been moving around the area much of the morning, yet this was the first posting on BirdGuides - a little frustrating, to say the least.
We joined the birders and scanned the full 360° view from the track. All around, we could see many stonechats and a few Dartford warblers. At one point, Kev wandered further down the track to try a different angle, and a Dartford warbler dropped right in front of him, giving him a fantastic view. Stonechats were the most conspicuous, with some juveniles easy to spot, while the Dartfords were more secretive, but still possible to follow through the scrub and bushes.
A red-breasted flycatcher had been reported the day before, and now it appeared again, this time about a mile up the coast. Time was moving on, and I could see Kev was a little hesitant - he said that if I wanted to go on with a couple of the birders setting off, he would wait for my return - I think his back was giving him some pain. I would have loved to see it, but Kev was right: if the bird wasn’t immediately visible, I’d likely struggle to get back in time to head home. As it turned out, the bird wasn’t reported again for another four hours, and then was seen only briefly - it wasn’t reported in the days that followed.
We kept scanning and hoping for the red-backed shrike, but it never appeared, and eventually we made our way back to the car, from where Kev drove us home.
Year list: 239.
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