Newlyn / Hayle, Cornwall & Clifton Pits :: 28 February & 02 March 2026

News of a Ross's gull turning up at Newlyn, Cornwall has produced excitement across the birding community. With just under 100 accepted records in the UK, it remains one of the most sought-after gulls for British birders; it is classified as an "accidental" visitor to Britain, with this Arctic species usually found drifting across pack ice than along the shores of Cornwall. Most historical sightings have occurred in northern and eastern coastal areas, particularly Shetland and Yorkshire, though birds have occasionally reached further south.

Reports from the harbour at Newlyn has drawn birders from across the country, all hoping for a glimpse of this elegant wanderer. While Cornwall has built a reputation for turning up rare seabirds and transatlantic vagrants, a Ross's gull is still an exceptional visitor. Kev @kev07713 and I decided this was a bird we had to see, hatching a plan to leave early on Saturday morning and make the drive down to Newlyn Harbour for sunrise.

Most British records have been very brief, often just a few hours to a couple of days - birds frequently move on quickly. This bird had been present for 6 days and so there was a real chance that it could depart at any time - a long way to go for a potential dip, but the bird was worth it.

We stopped briefly on the way, just outside Penzance, for a comfort break and to pick up some breakfast, arriving almost exactly as planned at 7.10am. We’d heard from Kev’s sister Karen @hobbylovinglife that she and Dean @worlebirder had already arrived, but so far there was no sign of the bird. Stepping out of the car, we joined the small group already scanning the harbour, hopeful that the gull would appear later in the morning. Meanwhile, Karen and Dean, and a handful of other birders, had moved off to check the beaches on either side of the harbour. The view across the harbour in the early morning light was magnificent.

We walked around to the landward side of the harbour and soon came across first one, then fifteen, and before long many more turnstone. We watched as they gathered and dispersed repeatedly, clearly hoping someone might feed them. On at least three occasions I watched people scatter food on the ground; one of them operating from one of the units along the harbour wall and, I’m told, does this quite regularly.

Later, seemingly expecting the same treatment from me, the birds began following behind in a neat line as I walked along, giving me the rather amusing feeling of being the Pied Piper.

We joined half a dozen or so people overlooking the harbour at Newlyn Harbour, scanning the likely spots where the bird might be perched, including the roofs of the surrounding buildings, but without any success. Our search soon extended to the beach visible beyond the harbour wall and out across the bay, and gradually we worked our way along towards the edge of the harbour mouth.

Every so often I glanced back towards the birders still positioned further inside the harbour, just in case someone had picked up the bird. On one such look back I spotted a familiar face - a birder we know from Oxfordshire, Ewan Urquhart @Stormvogel99. Eventually we strolled back down through the harbour, by which point Karen and Dean had returned, giving us the chance to catch up with them and have a chat with Ewan. As we did so, another familiar face arrived - a birder we often bump into, Shaun Evans (@sevans1032). It was beginning to feel less like a twitch and more like an informal gathering of friends.

We all milled around the harbour, waiting and scanning. By about 9.45am there was still no sign of the Ross's gull, which might have been cause for concern, but most people remained quietly optimistic - although a negative sighting had been posted on X. At the same time, birders were aware there were other species to see locally, and gradually people began drifting away one by one. Before long only half a dozen of us remained - Ewan had gone off in search of a coffee, Karen and Dean had gone in search of a dipper, while Shaun set off along the coast towards Mousehole.

A Pacific diver had also been reported nearby, usually seen from the harbour up towards Penlee Point Lighthouse, which sits just south of the harbour and marks the western side of the entrance to Mount’s Bay. Kev and I decided to drive up to the stretch of coast indicated and take a look. If our bird was called on BirdGuides, we’d be no more than a five-minute drive away. On our way back to the car, we bumped into Cliff Smith @01000011S buying a coffee, and who I think had previously been at Hayle Estuary searching for the ring-billed gull. Having failed to find it, he had decided to give this site a try instead.

We pulled into a lay-by on an elevated stretch of the coast and began scanning the water with our scopes. A great northern diver was soon picked up and, quite unexpectedly, the Pacific diver as well - something we managed to confirm later after reviewing Kev's video footage. Shaun joined us and managed to pull a black-throated diver out of the bag too. Before we had time to properly settle in or move further along the coast, a shout went up from some birders about fifty metres up the pavement: the Ross's gull was flying from right to left and heading towards the harbour. It was very distant but still unmistakable.

While adult Ross's gulls show a delicate pink flush and a distinctive wedge-shaped tail, this was a first-winter bird. It showed soft grey upperparts and clean white underparts, giving it a very pale overall appearance. A clear dark ear spot behind the eye would later stand out on the otherwise white head, and the bill was small and black.

In flight the bird looked particularly striking. The pale grey upperwings were crossed by a bold dark “W”-shaped pattern, created by the darker carpal bar and the trailing edge of the wings, a reported classic feature of young Ross's gulls. The wings were long and buoyant, giving the bird an almost tern-like quality as it moved among the surrounding gulls.

We quickly jumped back into the car, packed Shaun into the back seats and headed for the harbour. On the way to our parking spot Kev called Karen to make sure they were aware the bird had returned. They hadn’t heard the news and immediately hot-footed it down through the village, picking up Cliff on the way.

We arrived at the harbour just in time to see the bird over the water inside the harbour itself, where it drifted about for a minute or two. It then flew towards the harbour mouth, passing along the harbour wall before disappearing from view behind the units that line it. Ewan was in the perfect position as the bird went along the wall and must have enjoyed particularly good views.

We’d already enjoyed excellent views and would have been happy if that had been all we saw, though we still hoped the bird might have dropped onto the beach on the far side, as it had reportedly done on previous days. Most people moved to the other side of the harbour wall, to a vantage point overlooking the beach, only to find people scattered around - hardly ideal conditions for the gull to land there. At times during its stay, the Ross’s gull had been reported perched on the roof of the nearby Lidl supermarket, so some scanned that area carefully with their scopes, but it was not to be.

We eventually gave up here and started back to the harbour, stopping for a coffee and Cornish pasty on the way. We sat on a step along the harbour wall and started eating but before we could all finish a call went up that our bird had reappeared at the harbour mouth and we all shot up there with at least two dozen people now being in the group. The bird entertained us there for almost two hours - tens of thousands of photos must have been taken.

The bird fed by picking small prey items from the water’s surface, snatching insects, small fish, and crustaceans without diving fully - sometimes flying low over water, skimming the surface to catch plankton or tiny invertebrates. Occasionally, it hovered briefly before plunging slightly to catch prey just beneath the surface, but it was not a deep diver like a tern.

We’d taken countless photos, Kev had captured some video, and we had spent a long, enjoyable time being treated to close views by this gull. So, when it spun around the harbour and disappeared, we took that as our cue to leave and start heading home. Our plan now included a stop at Hayle Estuary to try for the ring-billed gull reported earlier on BirdGuides. Most of our companions seemed to have the same idea, and we all regrouped on the causeway overlooking the shallow water and the birds gathered there.

More than a dozen people were spread out in a loose line, and within minutes someone spotted the ring-billed gull, which had presumably been asleep with its head tucked under its wing until then. At this distance, scopes were essential, and the key field mark for identification was the bright yellow legs (and the bill) - absent in the many common gulls in the flock. Soon we were all on the bird. It preened briefly before settling down again, giving me another lifer before promptly going back to sleep.

We waited patiently, and before long the birds became restless, moving around and giving us more chances to get clear views of the gull.

Among the dunlin were a handful of bar-tailed godwits - the very birds I’d gotten up early to search for along the beach in Troon just a couple of weeks before. I couldn’t help thinking, well, I could have had a lie-in! - though, of course, they’re always a delight to see.

A birder to our left then picked out a curlew sandpiper within a small flock of dunlin further out in the estuary. Although it was distant, it was relatively easy to locate through the scopes, and I even managed a couple of record shots despite the range. Another year tick, and entirely unexpected.

We then enjoyed scanning on this and the other side of the causeway before saying our goodbyes to everyone and getting on the road, ready for a journey of at least 4½ hours.

Monday arrived, and with Charlotte out, I decided to make another twitch, this time much closer to home - 39 miles as the crow flies. I messaged Kev to see if he was free, but he was tied up, so I headed solo to Clifton Pits, Worcestershire, where a Richardson’s cackling goose had been reported since 24th February. There’s a lay-by on the A38 giving access to the Severn Way footpath, which leads to the north end of a waterbody where the bird had been frequenting with a small flock of Canada geese.

I parked and made my way to the site, finding a lone birder already in position. Disappointingly, he hadn’t managed to see the goose despite scanning. I set up my scope and went through the key features to watch for, and within moments he located the bird and seconds later, so did I. The Richardson’s cackling goose was chasing one of the larger Canada geese across the water before settling back into the flock. I managed a few record shots, though the bird was on the opposite bank from where we stood.

The Richardson’s cackling goose (Branta hutchinsii richardsonii) is a small, compact goose that is part of the broader cackling goose complex, once lumped in with the Canada goose. My friend Nick Truby posted that it was one of Jim's - he had to explain to me about the Latin name hutchinsii, as I am hard of understanding - our other birding friend is Jim Hutchins ...

It is one of the smallest forms of Branta hutchinsii, and noticeably daintier than the familiar Canada goose. Richardson’s cackling goose has a short, stubby neck, a relatively small head, and a stubby, short bill. Its plumage is strikingly similar to the Canada goose, with a black head and neck, white cheek patches, and a brownish-grey body, but the smaller size is the main field mark.

These geese are highly social outside the breeding season, often forming mixed flocks with Canada geese. and are grazers, feeding mainly on grasses, sedges, and other vegetation, though they will also forage in agricultural fields during migration and winter. They breed in the Arctic tundra of western Canada and Alaska, nesting near lakes and wetlands. During the winter, they migrate south to the western United States, with significant numbers wintering in California, Oregon, and the central plains. Richardson’s cackling goose is a very rare visitor to Britain and Ireland, and only a small number of individuals have been recorded here - all subspecies of Branta hutchinsii total up to around 77 accepted UK records.

Eventually the goose clambered out of the water, preened briefly, and then began feeding as it moved up the slope, gradually becoming more distant. Before long, I packed up my kit, said my goodbyes to the first and another birder who had just arrived, and headed home.

Year list: 185.

Around the West Midlands, Rushy Common, & Somerset :: 23-25 February 2026

We hadn’t done any birding over the weekend, as I’d spent Saturday driving back to Banbury from the Highlands and was in need of a rest on Sunday after a busy week. Kev @kev07713 and I decided to keep things fairly local and noticed that a Hume’s warbler was still showing at Lea Marston. As it was a species we hadn’t seen since a trip to Norfolk a couple of years earlier, and having dipped another in Norfolk last year at Warham Greens, albeit with the "consolation" of a yellow-browed warbler and a pallid harrier, it seemed like a good opportunity to go and catch up with one again.

We set off at an early breakfast hour for Lea Marston, greeted by bright sunshine as the sun rose. The conditions prompted Kev to ask why we weren’t heading instead to RSPB Middleton Lakes to try for a lesser spotted woodpecker - a little earlier in the season than our usual, perhaps, but with the weather so favourable there seemed a good chance of success.

A quick change of plan followed, and fortunately it required little adjustment, as the two sites are only about four miles - a 10-15 minute drive - apart. On arrival we found the RSPB car park gates still closed, clearly too early, so we parked in the spaces on the corner opposite Middleton Hall instead. After unpacking our kit, we walked round towards the car park and settled in to wait for our target to appear, while great spotted woodpeckers could already be heard drumming from the trees beyond.

We watched as grey herons moved back and forth from the heronry, while various tits and finches passed through and settled in the trees ahead of us. Our attention stayed mainly on the tree where we most often see the bird arrive to drum, though we kept an eye on the trees further to our right as well, aware that on previous visits the bird had appeared from that direction.

In late February, lesser spotted woodpeckers are beginning to show early signs of the breeding season, although they remain a difficult species to see well. Small and roughly sparrow-sized, they are noticeably more delicate than great spotted woodpeckers, with a shorter bill and a compact appearance.

The plumage is clean black and white. The back is barred rather than showing the large white shoulder patches of great spotted woodpecker, and the underparts are pale with fine dark streaking along the flanks. Males show a bright red crown, which can stand out clearly in good light, while females lack red on the head entirely.

At this time of year, birds are most often detected by sound. Males begin drumming more regularly as territories are established, producing a softer, shorter and less powerful drum roll than great spotted woodpecker. They tend to drum on thinner dead branches high in mature trees rather than on large trunks. Calls are quiet and easily overlooked.

Feeding behaviour is also distinctive. Lesser spotted woodpeckers spend much of their time working along smaller branches and twigs, often hanging underneath them while searching for insects and larvae. They are typically active high in the canopy, which, combined with their size and unobtrusive behaviour, makes views brief and often distant even when birds are present.

Late winter therefore offers one of the better chances to locate the species, as leafless trees improve visibility and increased drumming activity helps give away their position. And indeed, that proved to be the case - first one bird began drumming, then a second, followed by a brief call. Although we had mostly expected the bird to appear from the right, Kev instead picked one up arriving from the left, flying in from the small copse between us and where the car was parked. He immediately commented on how surprisingly small it looked; despite knowing their size, seeing one in the field never quite prepares you for just how tiny they are.

The lesser spotted woodpecker is now regarded as one of the UK’s most threatened and rapidly declining woodland birds with numbers falling dramatically since the 1970s, with declines estimated at around 80–90% over that period. The species’ breeding range has also contracted by roughly 40% since the late 1960s so we are very fortunate to be living near areas holding this special little bird.

Views were generally restricted by trunks and branches, but we were able to see the bird well if not get a photograph, other than a record shot. Before we were joined by anyone else the bird evaporated into the trees behind and out of view, although we could still hear it drumming - although both greater and lesser spotted woodpeckers use drumming to advertise territory and attract a mate, the sound they produce is noticeably different once you know what to listen for.

The drumming of a lesser spotted woodpecker is short, light and dry, often described as a quick rattling burst. It typically lasts around a second or less and lacks the power or resonance of the larger woodpeckers - the rhythm is fast but fades quickly. In practice, the difference is often obvious: if the drumming sounds delicate and you must listen carefully for it, it may well be a lesser spotted; if it echoes confidently through the woodland, it is almost certainly a great spotted woodpecker.

A couple of other birders arrived, and we let them know we’d already had good views, so they stayed in the hope of connecting with it as well. The bird continued drumming from the back right-hand side of the trees, prompting Kev and I to move along to the fence line for a better angle. From there we picked it up working a dead tree - a useful note for next year.

It spent most of its time drumming but eventually dropped onto a tree in front, feeding along the smaller branches exactly as advertised. Getting a clear view proved tricky, but with a bit of patience we managed to piece together some decent views in the end, and some photos.

Soon the bird moved off again, and we suspected it might reappear on the front side of the trees where it could be viewed from the car park. Sure enough, it obliged, popping up on various branches, drumming briefly but mostly feeding.

By this time a small group of birders, including two couples, had joined us and we did our best to guide them onto the bird, no easy task given the tangle of branches and the bird’s tiny size. Kev managed to capture a few videos through his scope and later posted them on X here - you can hear the drumming and Kev helping other birders onto the bird.

What a fantastic little bird, and another memorable experience enjoying the car park bathed in sunlight - the sun’s appearance almost feels as rare these days as seeing a lesser spotted woodpecker!

After seeing the bird, it was time to move on and try for the Hume’s (leaf) warbler at Lea Marston. We were advised to park by St John the Baptist Church and follow the track down to the footpath along the River Tame, leading to an area behind the Jaguar Land Rover Battery Assembly Centre, Rockwool, Forterra, and a DHL Supply Centre.

We parked outside the church and headed down to the riverside path. There were a few stretches where wellies might have been more suitable than walking boots, but we managed to navigate them without any trouble and soon came across a single birder scanning some bushes - he indicated "up" and we joined him to look back into a bush where apparently the bird was showing. It was not long before we were on it as it flitted around the top and inside of the bush - a welcome tick. We were distant and I had a go at some photos with very limited success.

The Hume's is a small, greenish-yellow leaf warbler, with a pale underbelly, a subtle yellow wash along the flanks, and a delicate yellowish eyebrow. It can be tricky to distinguish from a yellow-browed warbler, so patience and careful observation are essential. Watching it flit through the branches, active and restless, made it a rewarding encounter, although in the bright winter light and up a slope I could only manage record photos.

We moved back and forth along the track in the hope of getting better photos but the bird stayed high and mainly showed against the sky which made life difficult, as did the fact that it never stayed still and trying to get the bird in frame with handheld 700mm focal length was a stretch in my capabilities. Kev had a bit more luck with his 300mm lens and seemed to beat me for quality on this occasion, as evidenced with his photos posted on X here.

Its soft, high-pitched “tsee” or “tsi‑tsi” call was often the first hint of its presence, giving us a clue to its location. Careful observation is usually needed to distinguish it from the more common yellow-browed warbler, but with none of the latter reported here, it was clear that it was our Hume’s warbler calling. The bird would vanish at times, and we moved up and down the track, listening for any sign of where it had gone. Gradually, the number of birders grew, with at least twenty people arriving to catch a glimpse, including a few returning for second or even third helpings.

Although we’d enjoyed some good views, we decided it was time to move on and see what else the day might bring. By the time we reached the car, we had agreed to return to Whitemoor Haye in the hope of indulging Kev’s merlin obsession - I’d been lucky enough to “accidentally” record a merlin there back in late January (report here) and would have been thinking the same otherwise.

Starting from a different location, the SatNav routed us in a different way, and along the lane we stopped to chat with a couple of birders. They mentioned a young chap waiting at our usual spot, hoping to see a merlin all morning but without luck so far. We arrived and joined him, scanning the area where I’d seen the merlin previously - apparently a favoured perch.

Despite a few careful sweeps, the merlin remained absent. Kev climbed onto the half‑metre-high concrete barrier that blocks vehicles from the track, and from there he spotted two, then at least four grey partridges in the field ahead. True to form, when Kev says the birds are right in front of you, they really are - I ended up looking right over them. The chap with us was thrilled, having never seen a grey partridge before, which made his stop worthwhile, even if the merlin continued to evade him/us.

We spent some time scanning along the track and the lane but couldn’t find our target bird, sharing views of the partridges with a few birders who stopped by. Despite continued efforts, we eventually had to admit defeat - Kev’s quest for this elusive raptor continues.

The following morning I "eased into the day” and started ticking off a few jobs from my to-do list. While chatting with my wife, I suggested a drive down to Rushy Common Nature Reserve, where the long-tailed duck I’d recently dipped had returned and had reportedly been showing well on the main water for a couple of days. I checked the Oxon Birding WhatsApp group to see if anyone had visited and whether the bird was still present. Bryan Manston replied that he was on his way and would report back shortly - which he did, confirming the bird was still there. After lunch we set off, hopeful that this time it wouldn’t disappear before I arrived.

As we pulled into the car park, we could see someone with a camera standing at the corner where the hedge has been cut lower to allow views over the water. Speaking to her, she confirmed the bird had been showing out in front but had since swum off towards the hide. I set up my scope and carefully checked all the visible areas, noting pochard, tufted duck, wigeon, teal, coot, moorhen, pintail and shoveler among others - but no long-tailed duck. With luck, I thought, it might be visible from the hide instead.

We splashed along the flooded lane and footpath - thankfully having remembered to wear wellies - and reached the gate, unlocking the padlock to access the keyholder-only area beyond. Bryan appeared from the other side of the lane to say hello and confirmed the bird had drifted off and out of view again. After thanking him, we carried on, now fon a mission to connect with the bird. We secured the gate behind us and made our way up to the hide, unlocking it to find a single birder already scanning through his scope. He confirmed that the bird had passed by earlier but had disappeared behind the island and suggested we might have a better chance back at the car park.

Frustratingly, we retraced our steps and scanned again from the hedge with no sign of it. I decided to try once more, this time taking the flooded footpath I’d avoided earlier. About halfway along, persistence finally paid off - scanning the water to the left of the island, I picked up the drake long-tailed duck at last. Apologising to Charlotte, we turned around yet again and hurried back so we could view it through the hedge bordering the car park.

Fortunately, the duck had begun feeding closer in, and the woman with the camera and I attempted photographs through gaps in the tangle of twigs, with partial success. We watched as it continued feeding in the area, hoping it might move into clearer view. After about fifteen minutes it did exactly that, following two tufted ducks out into open water, where it began diving repeatedly.

With another commitment later, we needed to get home for some food before heading out again that evening, so we called it a day and made our way back, satisfied that this bird had finally been put to bed.

That evening I was chatting with Kev when he suggested a trip down to Pilning Wetlands, where a hooded merganser had been reported the previous day and was apparently still present. It would be a lifer for both of us - and for Karen, who would be joining us too - so plans were quickly made.

We set off reasonably early, stopping enroute for a breakfast roll and a comfort break, and arrived in time to grab a space along the road that leads around to the site. There were already plenty of cars parked up, though worryingly there had been no reported sightings so far that morning. That didn’t feel like good news.

A birder walking back towards us confirmed that people had been on site before first light and there had been no sign of the bird on the pools it had been favouring, nor out on the River Severn. We stopped and began scanning anyway, picking out plenty of duck, along with dunlin, redshank, pintail and six black-tailed godwits ... but no hooded merganser.

Out over the grassland, meadow pipits, pied wagtails and skylarks flicked about, bouncing across the fields and perching on the various logs, branches and posts scattered across the area, providing a welcome distraction while we continued our search. We stopped to chat with a birder coming the other way - it turned out to be Andy Stockhausen (@andy-1963.bsky.social), the original finder of the bird. We hadn’t seen him since our trip to see the Montagu’s harrier near Cheddington, Bucks, the previous July.

We carried on to the pools and scanned back and forth, entertained by four little grebes on the water as well as the ever-present pipits and skylarks. There had apparently been a report of a water pipit the day before, and one birder mentioned that someone had shown him a bird in their scope, though he admitted he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. We headed over to the suggested spot and began scanning, picking out a pipit Kev had noticed earlier - pale on the underparts and sitting preening.

We waited for better views, and when it eventually turned side-on the leg colour quickly confirmed it as a meadow pipit, despite looking noticeably different from others nearby. We couldn’t find anything else that suggested a water pipit was present, and after a short discussion we decided to head back to the car and move on to see what else the day might offer.

We decided to try our luck at RSPB Greylake, as we hadn’t visited for a while and there’s always a chance of merlin there, especially during the winter months. After arriving in the car park, we pulled on our wellies, having been warned that conditions underfoot would be wet. As we walked along the track towards the hides, the water soon almost reached the tops of our boots - about 10 inches deep (25.4 cm for younger readers 😊).

We slowly made our way along the track to the boardwalk linking it with the main hide and the screen hide, eventually settling into the former. Scanning the water revealed large numbers of teal and wigeon, but it was a couple of common snipe feeding at close range that really held our attention. At that distance, the intricate detail of their plumage was easy to appreciate. It is a well-camouflaged wader, its plumage perfectly suited to marshes and wet grassland. At first glance the bird appears mottled brown, but closer views reveal an intricate pattern of buff, black and chestnut striping. The crown shows bold pale stripes running lengthwise, while the back is marked with strong golden-buff lines that contrast with darker feather centres, creating a striking but highly disruptive pattern when the bird is crouched among vegetation.

The underparts are much paler, washed buff or whitish, with fine dark barring along the flanks. Its long, straight bill and relatively short legs add to its distinctive profile, especially when feeding as it probes methodically into soft mud.

One of the most noticeable features in flight is the rufous rump which you could partially see in my photos - the warm reddish-brown rump and tail base; in flight they can briefly flash into view, contrasting with the darker back and barred wings. This feature, combined with the characteristic zigzag escape flight, is often the quickest way to confirm identification as a common snipe as it bursts away after being flushed.

Out in front, several marsh harriers quartered the marsh at varying distances, with both males and females in view. A lone kestrel hovered nearby, while a scan around the perimeter with the scope revealed at least seven or eight buzzards perched on posts, gates, and bushes. Talking to one of the reserve volunteers who was sharing the hide with us, we learned that merlins are now seen on site throughout the year, although they are sometimes only recorded on the far side of the reserve when occasionally flushed during maintenance work.

Behind and to the side of the hide came the calls of water rails, wrens, and Cetti’s warblers. Looking out to see what might reveal itself, I caught a brief view of a Cetti’s warbler calling before instantly disappearing back into cover, while a wren paused on the reed stems, singing as it followed its partner through the vegetation. Kev, watching from the Screen Hide, enjoyed much better views of a Cetti’s warbler and even managed to take a few photographs as it moved closer to his position. We never managed to see a water rail in the open.

As is often the case with Kev, he was the one to pick out one of the two common cranes right at the far end of the marsh, beyond the fenced perimeter - effectively in another county at that distance. It took me a while to get onto the bird, as I was scanning entirely the wrong area and couldn’t make sense of the commentary that “its head is up.” Eventually I managed to align myself with the correct spot and finally saw it. Later, while walking out onto the boardwalk, I happened to glance to the right and noticed another common crane moving through the tall grass much closer to us. In time, both birds took to the air, flying out over the car park and the road behind before circling back and dropping in again roughly where my nearer bird had been feeding.

Common crane is now an established breeding and wintering species on the Somerset Levels, and Greylake has played a growing role in that recovery with breeding presence having risen from one pair to three pairs in recent years.

It was time to leave, and we began making our way back along the track when another Cetti’s warbler burst into song - we must have heard close to ten around the hides and along the path. I tried to position myself for a photograph as the bird moved along the reed line, but just as I brought it into focus a gust of wind blew reeds across my line of sight, and the bird took to the wing. In the end, I came away with a record shot rather than the frame-filler I’d hoped for, which rather sums up photographing Cetti’s warblers.

The journey home was straightforward, and we stopped for a comfort break on the way back, grabbing a sandwich before continuing on.

Year list: 178.