Suffolk, Eyebrook, & Eastleach Martin :: 22-24 August 2026

We’d left visiting the zitting cisticolas (fan-tailed warblers) at Walberswick until late this year, but with the youngsters now fledged, it seemed like a good opportunity to finally slot them into our plans. If I hadn’t needed them for my year list, I’m not sure Kev @kev07713 would have been quite so keen, so I was grateful that he was happy to make them our main target for the day. It helped that there was also a black stork not too far away, giving us the chance to turn it into a proper day out rather than simply two long journeys there and back for the possibility of seeing a single bird species.

With such a long drive ahead of us, there was no argument for taking a comfort break and grabbing some breakfast as we got closer. We reached the beach by 8.20am and set off along the advertised one-kilometre walk, which seemed to pass surprisingly quickly. Kev spotted a couple of birders further along the path running parallel to the beach, presumably already searching for the bird. As we made our way towards them, we picked out a lone whimbrel feeding in the pools to our right and a departing spoonbill. Out over the water, common terns were busy fishing, with juveniles among the first handful of birds we picked up, followed by a couple of adults further along.

We eventually caught up with the two birders, who told us they had already heard the birds calling - a sharp, metallic, rhythmic “zit ... zit ... zit ...”. At times the calls had sounded surprisingly close, but despite one of them having been there for almost two hours, neither had managed to see one. As if on cue, we heard a call ourselves and immediately began scanning the area, checking the sea buckthorn beyond the shingle, as well as the marram grass and coastal reeds. Then Kev spotted one perched in the buckthorn. It showed for barely ten seconds before disappearing back into the foliage, leaving him with little more than a brief but satisfying glimpse. I missed this as by the time I looked it had already gone.

We carried our scopes down towards the buckthorn bush to our left and continued scanning picking out whinchats, stonechats and the whimbrel relocating further along the coast.

The feeding behaviour of the cisticolas is quite distinctive, as they tend to forage low down among vegetation, particularly in rough grassland and scrub. In this coastal habitat, they work their way along the edges of the marram grass, reeds and sea buckthorn, frequently disappearing before reappearing a few metres away. They are constantly on the move, rarely remaining in one place for long, which made keeping track of them quite difficult. They can hover briefly or make short, fluttering movements to reach prey. They perch on grass stems or bushes between feeding bouts, then drop back into cover.

I caught sight of what looked like a cisticola flying up and back down along the edge of the grass in front of us, but despite watching and waiting, I couldn’t get a positive identification. We continued to hear calls from in front of us and to our right, roughly halfway back towards where the other birders were standing, with Kev picking up the calls around twice as often as I did.

A couple of other birders had now joined us and were making their way along the sea wall between our positions when a call went up that a cisticola was in view. We grabbed our scopes and quickly headed back to get directions. I managed a look through one of the birders’ scopes and, by the time I pulled away, Kev had picked up the bird, and I was able to get onto it through his scope. I quickly raised my camera and tried to grab a photo, but the bird had dropped back into cover almost immediately, and I missed my chance. This individual was rather plain and warm-toned compared with more distinctive adults and so we believe it was a juvenile.

According to the Suffolk Bird Group, at least 11 zitting cisticolas were present as of 6 August, comprising up to three males, at least seven juveniles from three broods, and at least one other adult. On 14 August, reports suggested that nine birds were being seen across the area, while another source put the maximum at six. Despite their elusive nature and the difficulty of getting good views, we felt confident that at least three individuals were present during our visit.

We kept watching and I picked out several strong candidates, but none of them sat up enough to give us a decent view. After two and a half hours on site, we decided that we had probably seen the birds as well as we were going to, even if we stayed for the rest of the day. The black stork had meanwhile been reported at Hazelwood Marshes, having been flushed from a dyke and into a field north of the hide. With that as our next target, we walked back to the car and headed over to the reserve, which was a new site for both of us.

Hazlewood Marshes is a Suffolk Wildlife Trust reserve on the Alde Estuary near Aldeburgh, but the landscape we were visiting has apparently changed dramatically in recent years. Until 2013 it was a freshwater marsh protected by a river wall, but a powerful tidal surge on 5 December that year breached the defences and flooded the reserve with salt water. Rather than rebuild the wall, the Trust allowed the area to develop naturally into an intertidal landscape, with mudflats, creeks and saltmarsh gradually replacing the former freshwater habitat. The change has proved hugely beneficial for wildlife, attracting large numbers of waders, while the developing marshes also provide feeding habitat for a wide variety of other species.

We stopped at an elevated section of the track, giving us a good view across the bay as we scanned the areas highlighted on the BirdGuides map where the black stork had recently been reported. The exposed mud was covered with birds, including large numbers of golden plovers, black-tailed godwits, shelduck and lapwings, with the tide now almost at its lowest ebb. Despite searching carefully, there was no sign of the stork.

We continued along the track towards the hide, where we met a couple coming the other way who brought disappointing news: the bird had not been seen since the earlier report, when it had flown away from the bay and over the trees. They also pointed out some trees where it had apparently roosted during high tide the day before. With the tide already close to its lowest point, this information was interesting but probably of little relevance to us on this visit. As we talked with them, we watched two clouded yellow butterflies fly through the field below us.

We continued along the track but soon stopped when we came across a couple of butterflies that neither of us had seen before. The second fluttered around us for a minute before eventually settling on the track, allowing us a much better look. It turned out to be a grayling, a new butterfly for both of us and a bonus.

The grayling is a beautifully camouflaged butterfly associated with dry, open habitats, particularly coastal grassland, sand dunes, and rocky areas. Although widespread in parts of Britain, it can be quite localised and is often surprisingly difficult to spot when settled, thanks to the excellent camouflage provided by the mottled underside of its wings, which blends easily with bare soil, sand, rocks and dry vegetation.

When disturbed, graylings tend to make a short, powerful flight before settling again, often choosing a track or other bare surface. Once settled, they characteristically hold their wings closed and angled towards the sun, helping them regulate their body temperature while remaining remarkably inconspicuous. The upper wings are brown with distinctive orange patches and eyespots, although these are often only revealed when the butterfly takes flight or briefly opens its wings. The underside is considerably more cryptic, with mottled grey, brown and buff colouring that blends beautifully into its surroundings. We were damned if we could get a decent photograph of it with its wings open, or even one in flight.

Eventually, we set off again and made our way towards the hide, passing good numbers of black-tailed godwits, redshank, dunlin, golden plovers and lovely summer plumaged grey plovers along the way. When we entered the hide, we found two people already in position. Kev scanned one side while I concentrated on the other, with the couple leaving after around 15 minutes.

Although I was looking in the opposite direction to Kev, we could both see good numbers of greenshank among the species we had already encountered. Five youngsters then walked along the channel towards a RIB with outboards, eventually pushing it into deeper water and rounding the corner until it disappeared.

A few minutes later, I spotted a bird approaching from my left and immediately recognised it as a raptor - a juvenile osprey! I alerted Kev, who came across to join me, and as we snapped away with our cameras, a second bird followed. The two ospreys circled the bay together before passing over the hide and onto the side Kev had been scanning, eventually heading back out over the estuary and disappearing.

We presumed the birds had been resting on one of the structures out on the estuary and had been disturbed by the rib as the youngsters set off, inadvertently giving us some excellent views in the process.

We continued to search but we weren't getting any views of the bird we wanted. We could see some tasty properties on the edge of the marshes and as we scanned around, we could see a golf course. The area around the tees and greens were lush, short-cut, and healthy, with a smooth, even surface typical of a maintained putting green, suggesting regular watering and close mowing. The fairway was dry, brown, and patchy, with large areas where the grass has thinned or gone dormant. It looked sun-scorched or drought-affected, giving a rougher, uneven texture compared with the greens.

Eventually, we had to admit defeat and accept that the black stork wasn’t going to be added to our sightings. We returned to the car and headed for home.

The following day, I was easing myself into the day when a report came through that a red-necked phalarope was still at Eyebrook Reservoir. Having missed a stunning individual at Farmoor Reservoir by just five minutes earlier in the year, I still needed to connect with one for my year list. I picked Kev up on the way and set off, with Google suggesting a rather unusual route through Daventry. It seemed a strange way of getting there, but it worked, and we eventually arrived on site.

As we pulled up, we stopped to check whether the bird was visible from the viewing platform. Kev went in for a look and returned saying he had seen it, so naturally I jumped out to have a look myself - well, you never know! We then drove another couple of hundred metres and pulled over at a stretch where we could look out across the inflow. From there, the phalarope was visible, albeit at some distance, feeding along a channel in front of a line of ducks and lapwings. It was constantly on the move as it worked its way along the water, making it difficult to keep track of at times, especially trying to take a video on our phones through our scopes. There was plenty of tutting.

The red-necked phalaropes are now heading south after breeding in the Arctic and sub-Arctic. Although they spend much of the winter at sea, migrating birds will stop at suitable inland wetlands to feed and rest, making reservoirs such as Eyebrook an important staging point. The shallow margins and exposed mud around the inflow provide particularly good feeding habitat, and the phalarope was making full use of it, constantly working its way along the channel among the other birds.

The phalarope suddenly took to the air along with the surrounding birds, although there was no obvious predator in sight to explain the disturbance. It wheeled around a couple of times before eventually dropping back down onto the nearest shore, giving us a much better view, although it was still some distance away. The views through the scope were excellent, but the heat haze continued to play havoc with both photographs and video.

We continued enjoying views of the phalarope, along with greenshank, green sandpiper, snipe, ruff and more on the water, when a shout went up that an osprey was approaching from our right. It wasn’t actively fishing and simply flew straight through, but it would prove to be the first of two birds/passes we would see that day. The second was rather more interesting, with the osprey carrying a fish as it passed by.

Ospreys wouldn’t be the only raptors we’d see, with a distant buzzard also appearing, followed by a flyby from a kestrel.

We chatted with some of the other birders, but we had only come out to see one special bird. We'd pack up and head home, again directed along a route that made no sense compared to many previous visits.

As has become normal these days, Charlotte and I headed out for a couple of hours of pickleball on Monday morning before stopping for lunch, and Charlotte then went out for part of the afternoon. Kev and a few other friends had returned to see the long-tailed shrike at Eastleach Martin, this time now that it had completed its moult.

When I had first visited, the shrike was already beginning to moult, with its plumage looking a little untidy as it started replacing its feathers. This time, the transformation was obvious. The moult was complete and the bird looked considerably smarter, sporting a fresh set of neatly formed feathers that gave it a much cleaner appearance. It was a nice reminder that even when returning to see the same individual, there can still be something different to appreciate.

I arrived to hear that the bird had been showing but had retreated inside the scrub under a tree and had been out of view for 5-10 minutes. I waited and sure enough in another 10-15 minutes it popped out and perched on the front of the tree. Within a couple of minutes it was on the move, dropping down onto the ground catching beetles and predominantly grasshoppers. The grasshopper population must have taken a hammering since the appearance of the shrike.

The long-tailed shrike at Eastleach Martin had already been around for some time before most birders knew about it, first being recorded at Macaroni Farm on 8 July 2026 and remaining there until at least 16 July, although news of its presence was not immediately released. It was subsequently seen along a hedge beside a minor road before apparently disappearing.

The bird was relocated on the morning of 19 July, when the news was released and birders began arriving in large numbers. This was no ordinary twitch, as the long-tailed shrike was an exceptional rarity in Britain. Remarkably, another long-tailed shrike had been found at Crail in Fife just days earlier when I had travelled north to see it, meaning two had appeared in Britain within the same month.

Identified as a first-summer bird, it was already undergoing moult when it was found, and this likely has contributed to its prolonged stay. During July and August, it has been a popular attraction, with birders able to watch it hunting from hawthorn bushes, fence posts and wires before dropping into the grass to catch insects. As the weeks have passed, its appearance gradually changed as the moult progressed.

The large number of visitors also created some logistical challenges, particularly as the bird was in an agricultural area during the harvest and the weather was exceptionally hot and dry. Fortunately, the local farmer opened a field for parking, with donations going towards conservation, allowing the many visiting birders to see the bird while minimising disruption to the surrounding farm.

What had started as an extraordinarily rare bird quietly occupying a Gloucestershire hedgerow had become one of the biggest birding attractions of the summer, eventually remaining in the area at least into the end of August.

While watching the bird, I got chatting to a woman who turned out to be Heather England @Heather24623189, someone I follow on both X and Bluesky. Heather is a regular source of sightings from WWT Slimbridge, frequently sharing her observations and photographs from the reserve and providing a useful picture of what is being seen there. She’d had some great views of the shrike and taken some lovely photographs - we had a very pleasant conversation while enjoying excellent views of the bird feeding its way up and down the hedge.

I’d been hoping to get home before Charlotte, but I got rather caught up watching the shrike, along with whinchats, wheatears, redstarts and more, and eventually arrived home just in time for dinner. A great visit all round, and a chance to see the shrike looking its absolute best in all its finery.

Year list: 284.

Local birds & RSPB Ham Wall :: 14-18 August 2026

Even before Kev @kev07713 and I had a chance to discuss plans for our Saturday birding trip, a white-winged black tern appeared on Friday morning at Wildlife Trust BCN Summer Leys, with reports quickly coming through on the Northants WhatsApp group and BirdGuides. I was out playing pickleball when I spotted the news, and messaged Kev on the way home to see if he had already been or fancied going. He was up for it, so once I got home, I quickly changed, grabbed my gear and picked him up on the way. We had confirmation from Trevor Ellery that the bird was still present, as there had been no further update on BirdGuides and nobody had responded to my message in the WhatsApp group.

We arrived having talked with Stuart Mundy enroute to check where it was best viewed from. Stuart said he'd still be there when we arrived and that the best views were from beside or inside the Pioneer hide and that is where we made for. We got to the hide to find four birders on scopes beside the ramp up to the hide and joined them, hearing that the tern had been showing up and down the main lake but was currently out of view to our right. In a couple of minutes, it appeared distantly above the reeds flying away. I managed to see it and get my tick, but Kev missed it being shorter and still obscured by the reeds. We needn't have worried as true to form the bird repeatedly fished up and down the same channel - unfortunately always distant.

The bird itself was a moulting adult, giving it a wonderfully variable appearance as it transitions from breeding into winter plumage. The once-black head and underparts were broken up with patches of white, creating a mottled, almost untidy look, while the pale grey upperparts contrasted with the strikingly white rump and tail. The white wings were particularly noticeable in flight, making it stand out against the more familiar black terns. Although not in the pristine black-and-white plumage of a breeding adult, the transitional plumage arguably made it even more interesting to watch. With heat haze and distance, the photos were a little disappointing.

White-winged black tern is a rare vagrant in the UK, with only occasional records as birds overshoot from their breeding range in continental Europe and beyond. Most British sightings occur during late spring and summer, making any local appearance a real event for birders.

There were three spotted redshanks on the far bank, while handfuls of common terns passed through as we watched and waited for intermittent views of the white-winged black tern. One useful point of reference was an iron-age pigs, which had been introduced to Summer Leys in early August as part of Wildlife Trust BCN’s habitat-management work. Having previously been grazing at Lilbourne, where it was being used to root out invasive vegetation, it has now been moved to Summer Leys to continue their work and provide visitors with an opportunity to see them in action.

As this was an unscheduled outing Kev and I had things to do at home and so after popping into the hide to talk with Stuart and Ricky Sinfield, we said our goodbyes and headed home.

Now it was time for our regular Saturday birding trip, and this week we decided to head down to RSPB Ham Wall, hoping to finally catch up with a purple heron, a species that had eluded us the previous year. Purple heron is a scarce but increasingly regular migrant to Britain, with around 25 birds recorded in a typical year. Most occur during the summer and autumn, with sightings concentrated mainly in southern and eastern England, although birds can turn up almost anywhere.

Numbers vary considerably from year to year, but records have increased over recent decades as the species has expanded its range in mainland Europe - purple heron remains a real rarity in Britain, however. Although primarily regarded as a migrant, there have also been occasional breeding attempts, with confirmed breeding still exceptionally rare.

According to RSPB and observers there are two purple herons on the site at present, an adult and a juvenile. The report from Friday night suggested that the juvenile bird had been seen between the Avalon hide and VP2, then flying towards the hide.

As we stopped at VP1, we scanned the water but couldn't find anything of note. An elderly gentleman sitting nearby with a large camera mounted on a tripod confirmed that we'd not missed anything. As we began to leave, he called us back to let us know that Kev had left something on the bench. As Kev turned to walk away, he suddenly spotted a bittern partially emerged from the base of the reeds - a nice bonus that we'd completely missed!

Ham Wall is one of the country's strongholds for bittern, forming part of the wider Avalon Marshes population, which supports a substantial number of breeding birds. Although I can't find an exact current count, bitterns remain a regular feature of the reserve with 18-20 booming males, with the reedbeds providing ideal habitat for this notoriously elusive species.

We made our way through the reserve and reached the turn in the track towards the Avalon Hide. Rather than following that path, we decided to investigate the pool immediately to the right, where we could see several white egrets through the trees. There was no one else down the slope, but further along, in front of VP2, we spotted three birders with scopes, one of whom had a camera raised to his eye. That was enough to convince us to hot foot it over there.

We quickly set up our scopes and asked if they were on the bird. They pointed towards an island at the back of the pool, where the purple heron was surprisingly easy to pick out, perched prominently on top of the island just a few feet from a great white egret. It was distant, but thankfully not too distant for photography, although heat haze seems always to be a potential problem currently. Fortunately, on this occasion it only had a slight effect, allowing us to get some reasonable record shots.

Purple herons have a habit of spending considerable periods concealed among the reeds, so seeing this juvenile bird sitting fully exposed in such a prominent position was a real bonus.

We'd missed that part of the show - just the luck of the draw.

Eventually, it climbed down behind the island and disappeared from view. We waited, and waited, hoping it would reappear or perhaps take to the air, but neither happened. Instead, we had to make do with the impressive collection of herons and egrets around the pool: more than 20 great white egrets, a handful of little egrets, a single cattle egret, and several grey herons, all feeding in the water or resting on the islands.

Meanwhile, various dragonflies were patrolling up and down the path, including one that repeatedly dropped onto the ground beside us - a black-tailed skimmer.

Eventually, we grew tired of waiting and, already more than satisfied with our prolonged views of the purple heron, decided to head back and make our way down to the Avalon Hide. We stopped on a bridge spanning a relatively stagnant pool, a spot where we'd previously had encounters with water rails, and while we stood watching, Kev suddenly pointed to the mud beside us and said, "Weasel!"

Almost as soon as I'd picked it up, it darted into the reeds and disappeared. We eventually relocated it on a distant log and tried for a few photos, but foliage was frustratingly in the way, and I couldn't manage anything worth keeping. It retreated again before popping out once more, and I once again failed to get a decent shot as it turned and faced us. Kev, the photographer, managed to lock onto it and got the shot. These small, elusive predators can be surprisingly difficult to see, so any encounter is a welcome bonus.

The weasel made one final appearance, dashing along the log before jumping into the water and swimming across the narrow channel, its progress through the duckweed leaving a faint trail behind it. I managed to get one serviceable photo before it entered the water, and I was more than happy with that.

The weasel is Britain's smallest carnivore and is widespread across England, Wales and Scotland, occupying a wide variety of habitats from farmland and woodland edges to grassland, wetlands and urban areas. Despite being relatively common, they are notoriously elusive, spending much of their time hunting beneath vegetation, along field edges and around banks and ditches. Their slender shape allows them to pursue prey into tunnels and burrows, with small mammals, particularly voles and mice, forming an important part of their diet.

We moved on to the Avalon Hide, where we joined around a dozen other birders. We found seats by the windows, giving us a good view across the pools and plenty of room to set up our scopes and scan the reedbeds and exposed mud. Kev was soon onto a water rail on a distant point, working its way along the edge of the reeds, repeatedly appearing and disappearing as it probed the exposed mud for food. A couple more water rails would be spotted later, although these were even further away.

In the shorter reeds in front of the hide, a glossy ibis was busy preening before eventually flying further to the right to feed among the stems. A second ibis was also showing further along the channel. Photography was largely a matter of patience, waiting for the birds to emerge from the denser vegetation and offer a clear view. When they did, the sunlight picked out the subtle iridescent colours in their plumage, revealing flashes of green, purple and bronze across the otherwise dark-looking bird.

Glossy ibis has gone from being a genuine rarity in Britain to an increasingly regular visitor, with birds now turning up at suitable wetland sites across the country. Although still a relatively scarce bird, it is no longer the exceptional find it once was, and some individuals have become remarkably faithful to particular sites.

The glossy ibis in front of the hide took flight and headed left towards the area where the first water rail had been feeding. As it approached, the ibis seemed to take exception to the water rail's presence, opening its wings to make itself look larger before breaking into a determined jog towards it. The display was enough to flush the water rail back into the safety of the reed cover.

We turned our attention to scanning through the other birds around the pools, of which there were plenty. The most notable were two spotted redshanks, both now fully moulted out of their dark breeding plumage and showing their much plainer winter appearance. While watching these, I picked out another wader further out beyond the spotted redshanks - a green sandpiper, feeding methodically along the water's edge.

We were pleased we'd made the effort to visit the hide and spent some more time enjoying the variety of birds on offer. Eventually, though, it was time to start making our way back towards the visitor centre and the car. We took our time along the way, stopping to watch the dragonflies and butterflies that were busy around the reserve.

Of note were two clouded yellows that flew through while we were at VP1, followed later by a rather special helice form of the clouded yellow, which was settled and feeding on knapweed. Clouded yellows, including the helice form, frequently nectar on knapweed, and by late summer it becomes one of their most important nectar sources, alongside scabious and thistles.

We reached the café and stopped for some drinks and ice creams, by now enjoying a very pleasant temperature. As we stood nearby, I spotted a hummingbird hawkmoth flying through and followed it to a buddleia, where it joined a variety of bees and butterflies feeding on the flowers.

We watched as it worked its way around the bush, often disappearing behind the foliage but occasionally hovering in full view as it moved from flower to flower. After a slow start to the year, I'm now regularly encountering hummingbird hawkmoths while out birding, and I'm even starting to see them in the garden, which has been a welcome change.

We chatted with some of the reserve volunteers before packing up and setting off for home, negotiating the road closures along the way.

On Monday morning, I headed to Charlbury for our regular pickleball session, and on the journey home I noticed that a pectoral sandpiper had been reported at Daventry Country Park. As you may have read in previous posts, I'd already missed several of these birds during two visits to RSPB Freiston Shore, so the opportunity to see one much closer to home was too good to pass up. I called Kev to see if he fancied joining me, and with a yes from him, I swung by his house on the way and we headed to the reservoir, where we paid for parking.

Reports suggested that the bird could be viewed from the dam, but when we arrived, we could see several green sandpipers, a ringed plover and what appeared to be two dunlin. At this distance, however, we couldn't be certain, as one of the dunlins looked subtly different from the other. We'd need to get closer. We don't often visit the site and weren't sure whether there was another viewing point around the perimeter that would give us a better look. We worked our way around the reservoir, and talking to some tree workers they confirmed there was a viewing platform, with a handful of birders already having headed in that direction. We met a couple coming back the other way, who confirmed that the pectoral sandpiper was still present - and, sure enough, it was one of the two birds we'd been suspicious of.

We joined another birder on the platform, who quickly directed us to where the pectoral sandpiper was now feeding. Within moments we were both onto it, scopes trained on the bird as we tried to capture a few record shots with our cameras and phones.

The exposed shoreline looked to be in excellent condition for attracting and holding waders, although the views were always going to be distant, with the water level having dropped considerably and the water's edge now well away from where we were standing. We watched the pectoral sandpiper for a while and were joined first by Stuart Munday and then Mike Alibone @bonxie. Mike commented on how difficult it was to get sharp images in the heat haze, which was causing considerable distortion at that distance. It was nice to catch up and have a chat with them both.

Having decided to go for the pectoral sandpiper, I had then noticed a report of a spotted crake at Upton Warren. Frustratingly, updates continued throughout the evening, with the bird showing exceptionally well and producing some superb photos on X, including those posted by Alan Boddington. That evening, Kev and I agreed we'd meet early the following morning and give it a go, hoping that the bird would stay overnight and, with any luck, continue to show well.

We skipped breakfast so we could get there as quickly as possible and, after parking up, made our way around to the Lapwing hide, where the spotted crake had been reported the previous day. It was still too early for any fresh news on the sightings boards, so we had no idea whether the bird had been seen that morning. On the way, we met two birders heading back who had been on site since 4.30am. They gave us the disappointing news that there had been no sign of the bird so far, and they were now heading home so they could get to work.

We entered the hide to find around half a dozen birders already waiting patiently. We joined them and settled in, scanning the exposed mud while watching green sandpipers and common sandpipers moving around the margins, with several more green sandpipers nearby.

Water rails began appearing from the reeds, and each emergence brought a brief injection of hope that the spotted crake might finally put in an appearance. Some quickly retreated back into cover, while others fed along the reed margin before disappearing. A couple of other individuals also showed on the far side of the pool, but none of them turned out to be the bird we were waiting for.

A familiar face then entered the hide - Harry, who runs the YouTube channel @Wingingitwithharry - and he joined us in the vigil. As the minutes ticked by, the chances of a no-show were beginning to increase. Then a fox appeared at the front right, on the opposite side of the exposed mud, and its arrival brought back memories of my first attempt to see a spotted crake at Brandon Marsh in Warwickshire in late July 2015. On that occasion, a fox had passed through just as I arrived and the bird was never seen again. Hopefully history wouldn't repeat itself here.

There was plenty of friendly conversation in the hide, with birders coming and going as the vigil continued, but there was still no sign of our target bird. Eventually, we had to admit defeat and leave. Home James and don't spare the horses.

As it turned out, we'd got our priorities the wrong way round. The spotted crake proved to be a single-day visitor, while the pectoral sandpiper remained for several more days. With hindsight, I should have gone for the spotted crake first and left the pectoral sandpiper until later. Ho hum - that's birding for you!

Year list: 282.