Planning our next day out birding, Kev had said that he was tied up with various arrangements from Monday through Wednesday, so on Wednesday morning I was easing myself into the day after a leisurely breakfast when the phone rang. It was Kev. We’d chatted the night before about the red-eyed vireo that had been found at RSPB Minsmere but had concluded that this was likely to be a one-day bird with little chance of it staying. I had pointed out, though, that it might generally relocate overnight, and with rain forecast right through until first light, perhaps there was a glimmer of hope.
Kev’s first word when I answered was, “Oops.” He then asked whether I was thinking of going.
To be honest, I hadn’t yet picked up any messages about the bird being reported again, but Kev’s wife, Karen, was clearly on the case and had already relayed the news to him. I quickly changed, and barely 30 minutes later Kev and Karen were outside my house, and we were on our way, Kev having cancelled his appointment that afternoon. Charlotte didn’t join us as she was playing pickleball in the early evening.
Although the red-eyed vireo is a rare visitor to Britain, it is one of the more regularly encountered North American passerines. The first British record was at St. Agnes in the Isles of Scilly in 1962, and records have accumulated steadily since, with the vast majority occurring in September and October as birds undertake their autumn migration. It remains very much a rarity, however, with many individuals appearing only briefly before continuing their journey, while the chances of encountering one is heavily influenced by weather conditions.
The red-eyed vireo is a smart-looking bird, with olive-green upperparts contrasting with clean white underparts. Its head is particularly distinctive, with a greyish crown, broad white supercilium and dark line through the eye. The wings are darker and subtly marked, while the tail carries the same olive-green tones above. It has a fine bill and pale grey legs. Adults show the species' characteristic red iris, while first-year birds have a darker eye, gradually developing the red colour as they mature.
The Minsmere bird had been discovered at about 3.15pm the previous day, when a visitor reported it in the North Bushes. RSPB staff subsequently obtained brief views, followed by several local birders who also managed to connect with it. It was notoriously elusive, however, being seen only occasionally as it moved through the dense bushes. It is a significant record: the first red-eyed vireo for Minsmere and only the fifth for Suffolk, with the previous Suffolk record dating from 1995. It also became the 350th bird species recorded at Minsmere.
On the way, I asked via a WhatsApp group whether parking at Dunwich Heath NT might be more sensible, given the pin drop shown on BirdGuides, but was reminded that the Visitor Centre and car park there was still closed following the fires that had swept across the heath during the dry summer months. We also understood that today's reported sighting had come from a single observer, while others were already on site but had so far failed to relocate the bird.
We pulled into the car park and set off through the Visitors Centre, pausing for a comfort break. Outside, we bumped into a chap who had just come up from the North Bushes, where the bird had reportedly been seen. He told us that it had been spotted again and that we should get a move on before it dissolved back into the bushes and scrub. Apparently, it had been extremely elusive and hadn't been seen for around four hours before this latest sighting.
We set off through the reserve, passing several people who had already been lucky enough to see the bird, and paused a couple of times to check that we were heading in the right direction. Before long, we arrived to find a line of birders all focused intently on a particular stretch of bushes. Among them we spotted Lee Evans and a Coventry birder we bump into from time to time, Mike Doughty @dogdoughty. They had already enjoyed a few views of our bird but told us that it was currently out of sight. Mike described how, only ten minutes or so earlier, he had watched the bird for almost a minute as it worked its way through a bush or small tree to our right, pulling off and eating berries - it would show again, right? A post on X showed the only photo I saw posted of this encounter.
Red-eyed Vireo at Minsmere lunch time https://t.co/4KBjIBaw23
— mick davis (@Med2005Mick) September 30, 2026
We waited and scanned the bushes as birds came and went, with the suggestion that our best chance of seeing the vireo would be when the tit flock moved through. Blue tits, great tits and long-tailed tits were constantly keeping us occupied, but around 25 minutes passed without any sign of our target.
Then calls went up from the other side of the trees that someone had the bird, with directions being relayed to those nearby. The group at the left-hand end of the line immediately set off, with Lee, Mike and several staying put. We heard that the bird was mobile and that, by the time everyone reached the other side, it would probably have moved on, as it was further round than most people realised.
A couple of minutes later, two small birds flew into the bushes directly in front of us. I raised my binoculars to see what they were and, to my surprise, one was our red-eyed vireo, its prominent pale supercilium making it instantly recognisable - a lifer! I started to call out that the bird was there, only to realise that a couple of others were doing the same. As we pointed and alerted those around us, the vireo took to the air and flew across the clearing, now attracting the attention of more of the birders.
It landed briefly in an oak tree and then vanished. None of us had seen where it had gone, and we searched the oak and the surrounding trees and bushes without success. News of the sighting quickly spread, and the scattered groups began making their way back, including Kev and Karen. Unfortunately, they had missed this brief appearance, but we would stay put and wait for another opportunity and so that this time I might have the opportunity to get a photo.
We waited, and waited, and waited. The tit flock continued to work its way through the bushes, appearing several times and occasionally leaving us wondering where it had gone when long spells passed without a sighting or even a calling bird. As the afternoon wore on, people gradually began to drift away, and more than once we found ourselves almost alone in the favoured area, with the light beginning to fade.
Then, at around 5.30pm, a reported sighting appeared on BirdGuides, apparently just up the track. Birders began appearing from below us, asking whether it was our group that had seen the bird. We made our way back up towards the pin drop and continued beyond it, but there was no sign of anyone who knew anything about the report. It was all rather strange.
Eventually, with the light fading and no further news, we had to admit defeat and head for home. Having been the only one of us to get a view, I couldn't help feeling disappointed for Kev and Karen. I suppose that's birding, though on another day it could just as easily have been the other way round.
Friday evening arrived and, looking at potential new birds available for my year list, I suggested that the only realistic option on the mainland was the pallid harrier at RSPB Marshside in South Lancashire. It was a particularly smart first-winter bird, with the characteristic dark boa across the neck, neat white rump and long, narrow wings giving it that distinctive appearance that separates it from the more familiar hen harrier. It was proving mobile and unpredictable, however. Some observers had enjoyed only brief flight views as it quartered the marsh, others had managed more regular and closer encounters, while some could spend hours watching without seeing it at all.
We decided on an early start on Saturday morning and made our way there without stopping. As we approached the car park, we could see a line of birders gathered along Marine Drive, apparently looking intently towards the marsh, looking through scopes, binoculars, and cameras. We wondered if we'd arrived just in time, but checking BirdGuides once we reached the car park revealed that they had likely been watching a short-eared owl. Looking at the photographs later, it was clear that they had enjoyed some remarkably good views.
We got our kit ready and chatted to a chap in the car park, wondering whether he was local and might have some useful intelligence on where best to view from, given that recent reports had come from several points along Marine Drive. As it turned out, he was a birder from the Bristol area, Tom Cutter, who spends much of his time birding at RSPB Ham Wall. We may well have crossed paths with him on previous visits there, although neither of us could be certain. He was certainly hard to miss, being considerably taller than six feet.
Tom also knew Kev's sister Karen and her partner Dean from his time birding at Ham Wall, which gave us an immediate connection and something to chat about before we headed out to look for the harrier.
From below the car park beside the sand works, we had an expansive view across the reserve. Beyond Marine Drive, the flat saltmarsh stretched away towards the Ribble, broken up by pools, ditches and patches of rough grass, with very little to obstruct the view. It was the sort of landscape where a harrier could appear almost anywhere, quartering low over the marsh before suddenly gaining height or dropping out of sight behind a bank or patch of vegetation. We stood scanning the open ground and distant pools, checking every harrier-sized shape and movement as birds rose from the marsh, while flocks of geese occasionally lifted into the air and settled again, predominantly pink-footed geese.
There were plenty of kestrels perched on posts and branches or hovering and hunting on the wing, along with the occasional distant marsh harrier, including both cream-crowned females and males. Snipe, linnets and meadow pipits passed overhead, while a few stonechats worked the vegetation out in front of us. We scanned the marsh, chatted and kept an eye on what distant groups of birders were watching, hoping that their attention might give us some clue as to where the pallid harrier might appear.
After a while, we decided to head back towards the car park and then out along Marine Drive to see what other viewpoints might be available and where the other birders had settled. We soon found a large group looking intently towards the far right of the marsh and decided to join them. They hadn’t seen anything more than we had, though, and there was still no news of the pallid harrier. That said, there was a distant view of a female merlin, and it’s always a good day when you’ve seen one of these. Unfortunately, it was far too distant for either a video or a photograph.
After a while, Tom crouched down low but continued scanning with his binoculars. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and announced that he had just seen a short-eared owl rise from the grass before almost immediately dropping back into cover. He didn't have a scope with him, just his camera and long lens, and asked if he could use mine to try to pick up the spot where he thought the owl had landed.
“Of course - be my guest.”
Within a couple of minutes, Tom stepped back and said that the bird was sitting right in the centre of the scope. He then moved across and did the same with Kev's scope. The owl was there, its domed head just visible above the grass, but it certainly wasn't an easy bird to pick out unless you already suspected something was there. Kev and I shared the scope views with others, helping them to get onto it and making sure to point out that Tom was the finder, not us.
After another half hour or so, the short-eared owl decided to relocate, giving us some lovely flight views before dropping back into the grass and disappearing once more. It wasn't completely out of view, though, as we could see birders further along Marine Drive with cameras raised, presumably enjoying better views from their position.
After another half hour, Kev decided to walk round and join them, while Tom and I stayed put, continuing to scan the marsh and chatting about birding, photography, blogging and the various places we post our photographs.
Tom said that he didn't post on X or Bluesky but was active on Instagram, where he posts as @exploretwentyfourseven - well worth a look. He also told me about a new project he had started, creating a birding and wildlife channel on YouTube Wildlife With Tom @Exploretwentyfourseven.
He'd only made three episodes so far, but if those are anything to go by, it's certainly worth subscribing and following along with his future adventures. He certainly seems to have the skills for it, both behind the camera and in front of it, with a natural personality that should work well.
After a while, we decided to pull stumps and make our way round to join Kev, who seemed to have settled into taking his own photographs. We thought we'd better go and spoil his fun. Looking out across the grassland, we initially couldn't see the owl at all; it was remarkably well camouflaged against its surroundings. Once it was pointed out, we had a much better chance of picking it up, although taking your eyes off it for even a moment meant another frustrating search to relocate it.
Eventually, the owl turned slightly side-on, and I managed to get a few shots with the camera, while Kev alternated between video and stills. After a while, the owl got up again, turned in the air and flew away from us, gradually increasing the distance before dropping back into the grass.
A few of the people around us followed its progress and appeared to get views as it went down, but after a quick chat, Kev and I decided to return to where we'd been earlier. Tom, meanwhile, decided to call it a day, with a considerably longer drive home ahead of him.
Kev and I decided to cross the road and see what the Visitor Centre had to offer. It seemed to be more of a hide than a conventional Visitor Centre, although there were a couple of portaloos, which was useful to know for the future. We spent a little time scanning the pools on the other side before making our way back towards the car, spotting a wall brown butterfly as it landed on the roadside verge.
Across the estuary we could see Lytham St Annes and Blackpool Tower beyond.
The plan now was to relocate to the main slipway at Southport beach, opposite Ocean Plaza, where twite are sometimes reported. It was probably still a little early to expect any this autumn, but there was always an outside chance, and even if we drew a blank, it would at least give us some reconnaissance for a possible trip later in the year.
However, just as I was putting my phone away, I checked BirdGuides and spotted a report from just 15 minutes earlier of a pallid harrier at RSPB Hesketh Out Marsh. Plans changed instantly. We headed back to the car and set off for Hesketh, only to bump into a couple of local birders who had also seen the report and were doing the same.
We all jumped into our cars, and we followed them towards the reserve. It turned out to be a considerably longer journey than I'd expected, but I suppose we had to negotiate the estuary edges. We jumped out of the car and hurried up the slope, hopeful that the bird might still be showing.
As we joined the line of birders, there was a familiar face among them - Tom, who had also spotted the report and decided to give it a go. Unfortunately, the news from those already there wasn't encouraging. There had been no further views, and none of the birders present had seen the bird themselves. We joined them in scanning the marsh, picking out a chap in the distance who appeared to be carrying out some sort of survey, clipboard in hand.
There were other raptors to keep us occupied - buzzards, marsh harriers and kestrels - but no sign of the pallid harrier. One of the kestrels eventually landed in a tree behind us, and I couldn't resist taking a photograph.
After another hour or more, we finally had to admit defeat. We said our goodbyes and all made our way back to the cars for the journey home. No doubt we'll bump into Tom again on future visits to RSPB Ham Wall, and in the meantime we can follow his exploits through his YouTube channel.
Halfway home, Kev checked BirdGuides and spotted a report of a pallid harrier at Belmont Reservoir, east of where we'd been. Could it be our bird? It was only about a 50-minute drive from RSPB Marshside, but by then it was possibly even further from where we were - and, unfortunately, in completely the wrong direction.
There was nothing we could do about it now, so we continued home, hoping that we'd get another chance to connect with the pallid harrier on another day.
Year list: 295 (mine) - BUBO: 290.
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