Calshot, Holbury & Goatee Beach :: 22 November 2025

The weekend weather forecast looked rather bleak, so when Kev @kev07713 and I began discussing Saturday plans, we naturally considered birding locations that offered some shelter, ideally somewhere with a hide. We weighed a few options and eventually settled on Slimbridge. There were reports of little stints, white-fronted geese, spotted redshanks, and returning Bewick’s swans, but nothing we hadn’t already seen this year. I’d visited recently, but it would at least get us out birding, and Slimbridge is always a worthwhile destination.

However, by the time Kev picked me up the next morning, he’d had a change of thought. After a brief chat, our plans shifted completely - we were off to Holbury, Southampton, to see the boat-tailed grackle. Kev had been before, but I hadn’t yet had the chance.

This bird is believed to be the first-ever boat-tailed grackle recorded in Britain, having been initially reported on 2 November 2025 at Calshot Spit, close to the RNLI lifeboat station and Calshot Castle. It was first thought to be a great-tailed grackle, but closer examination of photographs led to its re-identification.

Given Calshot’s proximity to the Port of Southampton, it is suspected that it arrived by ship and was therefore “ship-assisted”. As a result, it is expected to be categorised as Category E by British records committees, a classification applied to species that are not considered to have self-sustaining wild populations in Britain, and typically escapees or human-assisted arrivals.

A large and striking member of the blackbird family, the species is renowned for its long, keel-shaped tail, loud vocalisations, and confident, often bold—behaviour around people. Individuals of the Atlantic subspecies typically show pale yellow or whitish eyes, consistent with the bird seen at Calshot.

The boat-tailed grackle, specifically of the Atlantic subspecies, is largely non-migratory. In its native range, it inhabits coastal saltmarshes and urban areas along the eastern United States, from Virginia south through Florida and along the Gulf Coast. Highly adaptable, it frequently scavenges in urban environments and is known to explore human structures, roadsides, and even engage closely with birders.

Observers noted how incredibly confiding this individual was; it approached photographers, mingled among people, and even accepted food. It was seen foraging around the lifeboat station and beneath small vessels. On 6 November it reportedly flew off and was initially lost, though later sighted again in a garden at Holbury, not far from Calshot.

As we neared Holbury, we were reminded of reports of a white starling at Calshot. The bird, with its dark eyes, pale legs, and mostly white plumage, is leucistic rather than albino. Observers noted that it has been present for “a few years” and, remarkably, has successfully bred despite its conspicuous colouring. It has been described as “quite striking,” particularly when flying among normally coloured starlings, making it easy to pick out in a flock. We decided to continue down to Calshot to see if it was still with the starling flock, though, as far as I could tell, the last reported sighting was on 16 November.

We stopped to watch a flock of starlings beyond the beach huts, observing them feeding along the grass and along the water’s edge. There were plenty of turnstones, some dunlins, redshanks, ringed plovers, oystercatchers, and brent geese, but no sign of the leucistic starling. We located another small flock among a compound of sailing boats, yet still it was absent.

Working our way around the area in a light drizzle, we then turned our attention to the sea, where more turnstones and a couple of sanderlings were feeding in the frothy surf. Kev moved back to scan along the water in the opposite direction while I followed the sanderlings along the shore, hoping for a photo of these tiny birds; I love the way they scamper so energetically. They flew ahead, and I thought they had gone out of reach, but when I turned back along the shore, I saw they had relocated just behind me.

We knew that free parking along this stretch was limited, so after making sure we hadn’t overstayed our welcome, we decided to move on, keeping in mind that we might return if the chance arose - our next stop would be the area where the grackle had been regularly reported. Birders reported that it would perch on fences and roofs but also wander through the lawns and gardens of the estate houses, foraging on lawns for worms and scattered seeds. The bird seemed to have become fairly settled in its surroundings - locals had been feeding it and have often welcomed visiting birders into their gardens to watch and photograph it.

We pulled up to see two cars already parked, both with birders on site. Kev spotted Nick Bristow @nickbris56.bsky.social and joined him and the others as they worked their way along the gardens. Meanwhile, another car arrived, and I teamed up with the new birder to scan down the street in the opposite direction and across the fields behind the church.

After a thorough search, the group regrouped and swapped areas. Eventually, the birder I was with decided to move on, planning perhaps to return later. At that moment, a call went up down the street - they’d located the grackle. A short walk later, we found the bird, feeding along a driveway and around the side and underside of a car. As reported, it paid no attention to our presence.

We watched as it strolled across the lawn to the shrubs on the other side of the garden, but still relatively close, feeding on what looked like seeds scattered by the homeowner. It would feed for a couple of minutes before walking into the shrubs and disappearing from view. The seeds had also attracted some other visitors - at least three rats that scurried in and out of view.

We stopped to chat with Nick and the others while waiting for the grackle to emerge from the shrubs, discussing cameras, lenses, tripods, and a gimbal head that he was particularly recommending. As the rain began to intensify, Nick and I both headed back to the cars to grab covers for our cameras and lenses. Before we could return, however, the grackle reappeared. We watched as it strolled across the lawn, foraging with complete confidence. Eventually, it hopped onto the fence, then onto the neighbouring lawn. Rather than flying, it walked down the driveway, out through the gate, along the pavement, and back into the original garden - absolutely incredible. It was so close to us, showing no fear whatsoever. I had to cross the road to get far enough away to get the full bird in the frame.

The rain kept falling, and I’d managed to take a few shots that I hoped would turn out well. With the grackle still showing no signs of doing anything different, there seemed little reason to stay. Nick clearly felt the same, so we all packed up and said our goodbyes.

Back in the car, we discussed our next move. A scarlet ibis had been lingering at Goatee Beach just along the coast, and our friends Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston had enjoyed excellent views a couple of weeks earlier. That settled it, we headed in that direction.

We arrived in steady rain, parked in the designated car park, grabbed our gear and walked out towards the water. It was almost high tide, which could make things tricky, as any exposed feeding edges would now be submerged. We set up our scopes and began scanning, picking out good numbers of wigeon, some teal, black-tailed godwits, oystercatchers, curlew and a cormorant, but no ibis.

Time passed before a kingfisher shot through and down the channel. We watched it disappear near the edge of a compound. I continued scanning with binoculars, hoping it might have landed on the concrete wall or posts in the water, while Kev switched to his scope. A couple of minutes later, he called me over. His scope was focused on a pair of wooden posts standing in the water, but there was nothing perched on them. Assuming the kingfisher had flown, I said as much to Kev. He looked at me as though I was missing something, which I was. He told me to have another look and, behind the posts and at some distance, there it was, the scarlet ibis. “You’re not a very good birder, are you?” 😊

I went back to my scope to relocate the ibis while Kev pulled out his flask and poured himself a tea to enjoy while watching it. Unfortunately, by the time we looked again, the ibis had vanished and didn't reappear.

We continued scanning the area, picking up the same species as before along with a couple of Little Egrets, all under persistent rain. A few dog walkers stopped to chat, but eventually we decided to call it a day and head back to Calshot for one final attempt at finding the leucistic starling. If nothing turned up, at least the café in the Activity Centre would be a consolation.

We returned to Calshot and began searching the area again. The water level had risen noticeably, leaving very little exposed feeding habitat along the shoreline, and as a result, the large number of waders we’d seen earlier had moved on. There were fewer starlings too. With the rain still falling, we drove around checking for other starling flocks, but whenever we found them, our target was not among them.

Eventually, we retreated to the café for a late lunch, watching great crested grebes, cormorants, sanderlings, turnstones and others from the windows. After eating, we made one final stop to observe a group of starlings, oystercatchers, ringed plovers, and dunlins feeding on the grass, but the leucistic starling still failed to appear.

As we were preparing to leave, a small bird dropped in, dark-headed, with something of a bunting feel to it. On closer inspection, it turned out to be nothing more than a very waterlogged house sparrow. “Home, James and don’t spare the horses.”

Year list: 248.

Northwick Warth & Cheddar Reservoir :: 16 November 2025

When it comes to rare bird visitors to the UK, the penduline tit is a name that often excites birders across the country. Small, stylish and an astonishing nest architect, this species is a real treat for those lucky enough to spot one. I have tried to see one on several occasions but failed repeatedly.

It is a very small songbird, measuring only 7.5–11cm long - its most recognisable feature is the black mask across its pale grey head, often compared to a miniature bandit. Its upperparts are chestnut-coloured, and its underparts are soft and buff-toned, giving it a warm, delicate appearance. Unlike the familiar “true” tits (like blue tits or great tits), penduline tits belong to a different family, Remizidae, and are considered only distant relatives.

They prefer wetland environments, particularly areas with dense reeds, poplar or willow stands. Their feeding behaviour is acrobatic - they cling to reeds and have a remarkably precise, needle-like bill used to pick off small insects, larvae and spiders. In winter, they also feed on seeds.

In the UK, penduline tits are rare vagrants, not typically native breeders. They are typically recorded in small numbers during winter, especially at wetland reserves with the first UK record in 1966, in East Yorkshire. Nests have occasionally been observed, but successful breeding has never been officially confirmed. on average there are around 10 sightings per year, though this varies - recent trends suggest an increase in winter sightings - and birds recorded here often originate from continental Europe, particularly Scandinavia, France and the Netherlands, as shown through ringing data.

On 9 November, Northwick Warth delivered a real treat, a first-winter penduline tit! This was a notable sighting: the first ever for South Gloucestershire and only the fourth for Avon. For those unfamiliar, these juvenile birds are far subtler than their adult counterparts. Gone is the striking black facial mask; instead, the head is a soft brownish grey. Their upperparts are muted, and the underparts a pale buff to off-white, lacking the reddish spotting that can brighten some adult males - they might be understated but beautiful in their own right.

I couldn’t resist trying for it. On the way back from Bournemouth, Charlotte and I had made a detour, but the bird had “gone to ground” thanks to the fierce winds that even closed the Severn Bridge. Despite that, reports kept coming in all week. Friends managed to catch up with it on Saturday, describing it as “elusive” and “mobile” - classic penduline tit behaviour. By Sunday, Kev knew exactly what I had in mind. We set off later than usual, the sky heavy with cloud and daylight at a premium. Conditions weren’t ideal, but the lure of such a rarity was too strong to ignore, especially as I'd never managed to see one, never mine get a photo.

We pulled up on Passage Road and grabbed our optics and cameras before heading back to the bridge and onto the Severn Way. As we approached, we noticed a group of birders gathered tightly together, a good sign the bird might still be around. A birder coming the other way confirmed it had shown briefly but was still proving “elusive.” It took only a few minutes after joining the group before we started scanning the reeds. We were given rough directions to where it was last seen, which matched the usual spot described during my previous visit.

Blue tit, wren, and reed bunting passed through the area, prompting everyone to raise binoculars and cameras in anticipation, but still no sight of our quarry. Then a bird flicked past. Someone muttered it was just another blue tit, but Kev and I moved towards the area and scanned carefully, convinced it was something different - it didn’t look like a blue tit to either of us. Moments later, another birder confirmed he had it in view, and sure enough, there it was - penduline tit! Get in!

It moved along the front of the reeds and reed mace, though several people were still struggling to get onto it. There was a brief chance to grab some photos, but the distance and early morning light, it was still only just after 9.00am, made conditions tricky.

Before long, the bird dropped back into the reeds to the left, prompting us all to shuffle back and resume scanning. Within five minutes, someone picked it up again, this time working at the back of a small channel on some shorter reeds. Gradually, everyone managed to get eyes on it as it paused and finally right on and up to the reed mace’s cottony crown. Happy days!

It fed for a couple of minutes before flying back into thicker scrub, disappearing from view and remaining concealed for a good ten minutes. When it finally reappeared, it perched further back, making photography less favourable. Moments later, it flicked along the rear of the pool, then suddenly lifted into the air—climbing higher and higher, circling northwards before swinging east ... AND AWAY.

Naturally, we were disappointed to see it go so unexpectedly, though grateful we had seen it at all. A line of birders was just approaching and would have narrowly missed it. Would it return? It seemed unlikely - its strong, high flight east suggested it was moving on. It had been little more than an hour since we’d arrived, and the bird had already departed. Sometimes, it really does pay to be lucky.

We chatted with a couple of other birders and then Kev spotted a kestrel over the far side of the pool. It swooped down and caught a rodent, probably a vole. The bird hadn’t carried its prey far, perching on a branch as it began tearing off pieces and feeding. Harsh, perhaps, but always fascinating to witness a successful hunt in action.

We looked on BirdGuides and thought about what we might do next, now that the target bird had gone awol and was unlikely to return. We made our way back to the car and along the way Kev called as a kingfisher shot across the field towards the channel - we both saw it but we couldn't relocate it. After a breafast sandwich we headed off to Cheddar Reservoir as neither of us seemed to have connected with a greater scaup this year and a pair had been reported that morning.

Along the way, we chatted with Kev’s sister as we passed within ten minutes of her place. Dean was getting ready for work, so we didn’t stop, soon pulling into a surprisingly busy car park. There were plenty of people walking the perimeter path as well. Kev had visited before when a spotted sandpiper had appeared and was familiar with the site.

We dropped down onto the concrete platform and began scanning the water, picking out great crested grebes, tufted ducks, coot, pochard, wigeon, teal, cormorants, and more, but no scaup. It took a couple of passes before I finally spotted them at a distance - scope views only. We walked along the wall to get a better vantage point, and as if on cue, the pair of scaup moved closer, closing the distance between us and giving us a much better view.

We then spent the next 45 minutes to an hour following them along the water. Eventually, they took flight, circling high above the reservoir before dropping back roughly to where they had started. We tracked them as they cruised to the right, the female occasionally appearing as if she might stop and rest. Even with her head tucked in, she continued to move steadily alongside the drake.

Out on the far side of the reservoir were some people wing foiling (also known as wing surfing or winging) - it is a rapidly growing watersport that combines elements of windsurfing, kiteboarding, and foiling. It involves holding a handheld inflatable wing to harness the wind while standing on a hydrofoil board. The foil lifts the board above the water as you gain speed, giving a smooth, gliding sensation with minimal drag. Wing foiling is often described as easier to learn than kiteboarding but harder than windsurfing initially. Basic wing handling can be learned quickly (often within a day on land/SUP) but foil control takes practice, balance and board handling being key. Most people need 5–10 water sessions to achieve controlled foiling.

Back at the steps leading down to the car park, we spotted an intriguing bird in the sky. Its flight was unlike the others in the sky, and we immediately decided it was a raptor. Sure enough, it soon became clear that it was a peregrine. It was being mobbed by other birds and kept moving away from us until it eventually disappeared from view.

We scanned the area a little longer but didn’t find anything else of note and began making our way home. Along the way, we paused to look across the farmland, spotting pheasants, red-legged partridges, and six hares. Only the red-legged partridges came close enough for a record shot in the fading light. After about an hour, we packed up and headed home - a lifer for me today.

Year list: 247.

Carsington Water & 2-day break :: 08-11 November 2025

Carsington Water is one of those places where a simple walk can quickly become a memorable birding adventure. The mix of open water, woodland edges, reedbeds, and rolling Derbyshire countryside makes it a magnet for birds - whether you're spotting familiar species or hoping for something more unusual.

The main reservoir viewpoint is often alive with activity. Great crested grebes gliding in close, tufted ducks diving in synchronised rhythms, and cormorants perch with wings outstretched like patient sentinels. Kev @kev07713 and I were surprised by how low the water level was, with wide stretches of dry mud around the edges and the birds pushed out toward the deeper centre. Even so, a few people were still out on boats, fishing.

But some of the best moments happen away from the crowds. The hides around the wildlife centre offer quieter encounters: in winter, flocks of wigeon and teal gather on the water, and if you're lucky, you might spot a visiting goldeneye or even a great northern diver.

Carsington Water has a habit of surprising its visitors - the reservoir’s ever-changing birdlife makes every trip feel fresh. With good paths, welcoming hides, and wide-open skies, Carsington is the sort of place that reminds you to slow down, look twice, and let the natural world reveal itself, one bird at a time.

We first stopped at the Millfield's Picnic area where some woodland species are drawn out to the feeders when food sources become depleted in the surrounding woodland - species such as marsh and willow tits. We paused here, filling up feeder that had been attacked by the tits and finches visiting regularly. We could hear jays calling from distant oak trees and had two ravens fly overhead - we returned our attention to the three trees in front of us.

We picked out a distant flock of linnets and watched meadow pipits feeding on the exposed mud and rocks, but our attention quickly shifted when a great spotted woodpecker dropped into the right-hand tree, scattering the tits and finches that had been busy on the fat balls and suet pellets.

We continued watching and waiting, now spotting coal tits joining the blue and great tits in the trees, with long-tailed tits flitting quietly behind. A couple of birds dropped into a tree to our left and into the hedgerow, and we could see they were siskins - a male and a female. They lingered for less than a minute. More linnets passed overhead, and the Merlin app reported a hawfinch nearby, though we never saw or identified it by call.

Kev walked along the path to get a wider view of the water, and as he passed under one of the trees, a handful of siskins broke cover and vanished behind a small copse. On his return, we briefly caught sight of some lesser redpolls landing in the top of a tree within the copse, but they stayed only about twenty seconds.

We lingered a while longer, but eventually decided that lovely as it was to watch these birds, we would try to track down the four twite reported here the previous day, thought to be associating with a linnet flock. We jumped in the car and drove to the main Visitor Centre and car park, heading toward the area indicated on BirdGuides.

From the vantage points we could see wigeon, teal, cormorants, and some geese, but only a couple of meadow pipits and pied wagtails. We circled around, stopping frequently to scan the exposed mud, rocky outcrops, and water edges, but there was no sign of anything unusual.

Following a grassy track, we heard the soft call of a bullfinch. Kev quickly located them, a male and female feeding in the low scrub. The male perched on a distant plant, while the female stayed further left, giving Kev a better view.

A greater scaup had also been reported, and through our scopes we thought we could make it out in the bay farthest from our position, only for it to drift left and vanish from view, frustratingly out of reach. We moved on and spotted a great white egret stalking along the water’s edge. Though distant, it seemed intent on a particular spot. It paused briefly - just ten seconds - before striking, not just gracefully but with full force, plunging deep into the pool.

We continued along the shoreline, spotting a few meadow pipits before finally noticing an increasing number of linnets. For the next thirty minutes, we watched them feeding among the long grass and rocks, but there was still no sign of any twite - just the familiar meadow pipits and linnets.

Our patience was tested when three people strolled across the exposed shore, sending the flock into the air. We waited for their return and carefully worked through the birds again, only for a dog walker to appear and flush them once more. Eventually, we circled back and found the flock moving along another section of shore. We worked through the birds one last time but still drew a blank. Accepting defeat, we made our way back to the car.

We decided to grab some lunch before heading up to the Sheepwash car park, planning to visit the hide. There, we met another birder and chose to join him along the track to see if we could locate the scaup. Along the way, we spotted goldeneye, tufted ducks, wigeon, teal, and a large group of pochards, but there was still no sign of our target.

On the way back, we paused to look across the bay and were delighted to spot a peregrine perched on a narrow strip of shoreline. With the sun low in the sky, the scene was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. We'd walk back to the car and make our way home.

I had planned to take the week off, and with Charlotte’s birthday falling mid-week, we decided to spend a couple of nights away in Bournemouth. On the way, we stopped in Lymington to visit the Normandy Lagoon, hoping to catch up with the drake long-tailed duck. Planning to have lunch at the Yacht Haven, we parked there and set off to explore the area.

A light breeze kept us on the lower path, and soon we were passing the pools surrounding the main water body. Redshanks and teal moved through the shallows, while a greenshank fed constantly, oblivious to our presence and getting reasonably close.

We made our way around the edge of the lagoon and were greeted by impressive flocks of dunlin, wheeling across the water before settling and then lifting off again in a constant swirl. Redshanks moved through the shallows, while black-tailed godwits fed methodically nearby. A lone spotted redshank kept appearing and disappearing in the distance. A group of dunlins finally settled on a spit opposite us, and I stopped to snap a few photos.

Scanning the water’s edge, I spotted a grey plover alongside two ringed plovers, hunkered down against the wind. At the back of the pool, even more black-tailed godwits and lapwings were scattered across the shallows, joined by an astonishing nineteen spoonbills - more than I’ve ever seen here before. Strangely, not all of them were asleep, which is usually the case when I encounter a large number together.

We made our way to the far side of the lagoon and as we scanned I picked out the drake long-tailed duck diving constantly and staying under for long periods. Long-tailed ducks are remarkable divers, often considered among the most accomplished of the sea ducks. Unlike many other ducks that feed on the surface, these birds spend a significant portion of their time underwater, diving for invertebrates, molluscs, crustaceans, and small fish. They are capable of impressive dives, frequently reaching 20–60 meters (65–200 feet), with some recorded diving over 60 meters. Their dives usually last between 20 and 90 seconds, though they can occasionally stay underwater longer when pursuing prey. With this pool being relatively shallow it was impressive how long it stayed under.

Their diving style is often described as active and deliberate, contrasting with the shallower, dabbling dives of other ducks - often diving repeatedly in the same area, surfacing briefly between dives. In winter, they are known to feed more frequently in sheltered bays, lagoons (such as here), or estuaries where molluscs and crustaceans are abundant.

True to their name, the males sport long, elegant tail feathers that trail behind them like a graceful ribbon in flight or on the water. Their plumage is particularly eye-catching: in winter, males display a bold contrast of black, white, and chestnut.

While down in Bournemouth we tried to find a Pallas's warbler around Durlston Country Park but delayed by rain and then search for an hour and a half we eventually gave up and repaired to RSPB Arne for lunch where a sparrowhawk was cruising and being mobbed by finches over the Visitor Centre. We made our way to the Middlebere Lookout and along the way spotted a single greenshank cutting along the water. We chatted to a couple on the hide and enjoyed black-tailed godwits, pintails (some juvenile males included), wigeon, teal, shelduck, cormorants and egrets - but nothing of particular note.

On our return we stopped to see a couple of Sika deer in the trees and made our way back to our hotel for dinner.

On the way home, we debated what to do and noticed that a penduline tit had been reported at Northwick Warth, Avon - a species I’d tried to see several times before but never managed to catch. It was quite a detour, but we decided to go for it and soon met up with a couple of friends (Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston) who had travelled from Banbury and Didcot. They told us the bird had been seen at 7.00 am., but not since. Oh dear ...

Still hopeful, we joined the handful of other birders scanning the reedbed, but all we could find were stonechats, robins, wrens, blue tits, and a restless kestrel moving around the area. We waited for over two hours, but with the wind picking up -so strong that the Severn Bridge had been closed - we eventually accepted that a sighting was unlikely. Another failed attempt.

We headed home to focus on Charlotte’s birthday and finish wrapping the last of her presents.

Year list: 245.