On 8 December, a bufflehead was discovered at Point of Ayr, Flintshire, where it stayed for several hours before flying off. Hopes were high that it might reappear locally, but with no further reports, most observers assumed the bird had moved on for good. However, it was refound on 19 December at Foryd Bay, Caernarfon, where it showed extremely well and gave excellent views.
A close relative of goldeneye, though much smaller, the bufflehead is instantly recognisable by the large white patch on the back of the head - it is a very rare visitor to the UK from North America. Although buffleheads are hunted and classified as a gamebird, their overall population has remained relatively stable, in contrast to the declines seen in many other sea duck species in recent decades.
Buffleheads are migratory, wintering mainly in sheltered coastal waters and open inland lakes along the east and west coasts of North America and across the southern United States, with additional wintering birds on the Great Lakes. They are among the last waterfowl to leave their breeding grounds and arrive on their wintering areas within a narrow time window - late October and November are the most likely arrival times both in the Americas and here in the UK.
The first documented British record was on Tresco, Isles of Scilly in 1920, and assuming all 2025 records are accepted (currently provisional), this individual would (I think) represent the 24th UK record.
While some UK occurrences are thought to involve genuine transatlantic vagrants, others may relate to escapes from captivity, as the species is frequently kept in wildfowl collections. Consequently, each record is scrutinised carefully; as with many wildfowl species, questions over origin are common. The BBRC requires clear views of the legs showing no rings before a record can be considered/accepted.
I was working in Sheffield on Thursday and Friday and had a social event to attend on Saturday, so Kev @kev07713 and I came up with a plan to set off early on Sunday morning and drive to North Wales in the hope of catching up with the bird. I wasn’t going to be driving, as I’d be turning in late and had also enjoyed a few! drinks over the course of the evening. In the end I got to bed around midnight and was back on the road with Kev by 5.00am, stopping for breakfast on the way and were astonished by how dark it still was at 8.00am.
We arrived at the end of the lane by Morfa Lodge Holiday Park, then followed the coastal path south along the western side of Foryd Bay, viewing from the embankment. I remembered that some friends were staying at a Banbury hotel after the previous night's social and that they had arranged to meet for breakfast at 9.00am. I sent them a WhatsApp message, showing them where I was and wishing them a great start to the day.
We made our way to the estuary wall and could see a small group of birders standing on the causeway between a pool and the estuary. An update just 45 minutes earlier had reported that the bird was still present, so we were hopeful they were watching it. As we approached, we spotted a duck on the water and paused to check it carefully through our binoculars, keen to confirm we had the right bird before moving any closer - our recent experience of watching a penduline tit lift off and depart as birders approached still fresh in our minds. Lifer! Reassured, we joined the group and watched as the bird dived repeatedly, surfacing for just 10–15 seconds at a time. At the other end of the group was Trevor Ellery @ElleryTrev16932 - Kev spent a bit of time catching up with him, between taking videos and photos.
Owing to their small size and high metabolism, buffleheads are highly energetic birds, spending much of their time diving almost continuously in search of food. In the early light the head showed little iridescence, revealing only fleeting flashes of green.
The bufflehead was especially striking, the adult male’s head shimmering with iridescence that shifted dramatically with the light and viewing angle. The head was far from plain black; in good light it flashed deep green, emerald, purple and blue-violet tones. This sheen framed the male’s large, white, fan-shaped head patch, making the contrast appear even more vivid.
We watched and recorded the bird’s energetic activity as the group of observers steadily grew. Eventually we were joined by Graham Jepson @GrahamJepson1, a well-known birder and photographer, who set up his equipment and began capturing what will no doubt be some of the best images of this bird. We had a chat as it had been some time since we bumped into him last.
After a prolonged period of feeding, the bufflehead eventually settled down to sleep, its head tucked into the feathers along its back. Even then it remained alert, eyes open, and it wasn’t long before it was fully awake again and back to diving, roused by an alarm call from elsewhere in the bay.
Eventually the bird began feeding further to our right, weaving through the reeds and small islands. Now much closer, it showed the iridescent head colours more clearly, the sheen spreading across the crown as well.
The bay was alive with birds: Canada, greylag and brent geese, along with wigeon, teal, pintail, a variety of gulls, great crested and little grebes, and even a male greater scaup among them. Overhead, two peregrines interacted, while three ravens cronked loudly as they tumbled back and forth. The surrounding fields looked promising for merlin and owls, though none were seen. As we began to depart, we watched rock and meadow pipits and a couple of skylarks feeding along the water’s edge. A water pipit was called by someone nearby, but it was too distant for me to make an identification in flight before it dropped to the ground.
It was time to pack up, so Kev and I made our way back to the car, scanning the fields and fence posts as we went - it really is a superb area. We chatted briefly with a couple out walking their dog, who asked what everyone was doing there, gesturing towards the line of cars parked along the verge. Kev replied that we’d come to see them ... and a rare duck on the reserve. That tickled them.
Within the grounds of Caernarfon Airport, flocks of lapwings and corvids were feeding, but the only truly unusual flying object was a bright red whirlybird. Those of a certain age might remember the TV series 'Whirlybirds', which followed a helicopter charter business in California. First airing between 1957 and 1960, when helicopters were still a novelty, it was later repeated on UK television I think on Saturday mornings for children throughout the 1960s and early 1970s.
We decided to head on to Colwyn Bay for some sea-watching. A surf scoter had been reported there the previous day, a species we hadn’t yet seen this year. Kev had dropped a pin on Google Maps, and once we arrived, we began scanning the bay from the promenade. There were good numbers of cormorants and shags, and soon we picked up a great northern diver far offshore. Away to our right a line of common scoters was visible, which seemed the most likely place for the surf scoter, so we relocated to a spot near a café overlooking the bay.
As we approached, a couple of people in swimsuits walked purposefully across the sand towards the sea, prompting the thought that some sort of intervention might be required - a suicide pact? They weren’t in the water for long before retreating and jumping into the Casgen Sawna, the wood-fired barrel sauna often stationed at Porth Eirias, even at this time of year. Apparently, people actually pay for this kind of torture!
We reached the edge of the playground on the point and on the rocks and sand in front, the tide now retreating, were turnstones and a lone oystercatcher.
We resumed our sea-watch and located the flocks of common scoters, but despite working through them repeatedly we couldn’t pick out a surf scoter. It wouldn’t have been the first time the bird had gone AWOL, and it was likely still out there somewhere; reports suggested it had been coming in reasonably close, and we weren’t long past high tide.
As we continued scanning, we refound the great northern diver along with a few red-throated divers, though all were distant and really only visible through the scope.
We took advantage of the café and toilets in the Bryn Williams restaurant area before returning to the sea-watch. Another birder soon joined us, also searching for the target species, which at least confirmed we were in the right place. Despite our efforts, however, we couldn’t add the bird to either our day or year list.
Eventually it was time to start the journey home. The traffic was kind, but it was still a long shift behind the wheel for Kev.
Year list: 251.
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