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.
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