Every so often, nature produces a remarkable spectacle, and the westward irruption of northern nutcrackers is a perfect example. Normally they are inhabitants of the vast coniferous forests of Siberia and northern Asia, but these distinctive, white-spotted members of the crow family can suddenly appear thousands of miles beyond their usual range.
The reason behind these extraordinary movements is largely down to food availability. Nutcrackers depend heavily on pine seeds, particularly those of the Siberian Stone Pine. They are expert food hoarders, collecting seeds during autumn and burying them in thousands of separate caches to sustain themselves through the winter. However, when pine-cone crops fail, food becomes scarce and large numbers of birds are forced to leave their familiar territories in search of alternative supplies.
These mass movements (irruptions) can carry birds westwards across Russia, Scandinavia and the Baltic countries, eventually reaching Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium and very very occasionally Britain.
One of the most spectacular examples occurred in 1968, when thousands of slender-billed Siberian Nutcrackers moved west across Europe. Britain experienced an exceptional influx, with more than 300 birds recorded across the country. The event remains one of the most memorable bird invasions in British ornithological history.
The last truly memorable, long-staying British nutcracker was at Cocknage Wood, Staffordshire, in autumn 1991. It remained from 14 October until 9 November, delighting birdwatchers with its remarkably confiding behaviour. Although there were subsequent sightings, including one in Kent in 1998 and another in Scotland in 2021, none generated quite the same opportunity for birdwatchers to enjoy this elusive Siberian visitor.
The 2026 influx has captured the imagination of birders. Significant numbers have been reported moving through continental Europe, with birds reaching the Netherlands and Belgium but with unfavourable winds there has been little opportunity for them to make the hop across into Britain. Their arrival has revived memories of previous invasions and raised the exciting possibility of another memorable autumn for birdwatchers. What we need is favourable winds.
Movement gathered momentum during September, as birds of the irruptive Siberian subspecies, commonly known as the slender-billed northern nutcracker, spread westwards into Scandinavia and beyond. By the end of the month, double-figure counts had been recorded in the Netherlands, while German migration hotspots were reporting daily totals exceeding 50 birds.
During the brief spell of easterly winds, while we were at Spurn, conversation inevitably turned to what we would do if a nutcracker was reported. Should we stay or should we go? The general feeling was that, if one did appear, Norfolk or somewhere further south along the coast would be the most likely destination. As it happened, the easterlies produced no immediate reports, and we were able to bring our Spurn trip to a close without having to make that all-important decision!
Then came the exciting news for British birdwatchers - the arrival of a nutcracker in Norfolk was reported. The bird had already been discovered at Mundesley in Norfolk, although news of its arrival was not immediately circulated. The delay was apparently due to the county recorder being away and travelling to Thailand, meaning that the discovery remained under wraps for a little longer than might otherwise have been expected.
Kev @kev07713 and I had postponed our weekend birding trip until Sunday, a decision that now seemed to have worked perfectly in our favour, provided, of course, that the bird remained overnight. We set off at 5.00am, but almost immediately our plans suffered a minor setback. As I pulled away from Kev's drive, an unusual noise became apparent as the wheels turned. We jumped out, torches in hand, to investigate, before trying a short drive of a few hundred yards, but the noise persisted.
We headed back towards Kev's house, bumped the car over the kerb and tried again. This time, thankfully, the noise had disappeared. Perhaps a stick or stone had become lodged somewhere as I reversed onto the drive. It had been a windy spell, after all, and debris was scattered across roads and gardens. Whatever the cause, it seemed to have worked itself free.
With a delay of around 15 minutes, we were finally on our way. Fortunately, the roads were kind to us and we covered the journey in just over three hours, with the excitement of what might await us at Mundesley building all the time.
When news of the nutcracker had first broken the previous day, it was reported as frequenting Trunch Road. However, as we drew closer to Mundesley, further updates suggested it was showing well in the trees along Water Lane. We adjusted our parking destination accordingly and arrived to find a gathering of birders close to a small wooden bridge, all eyes fixed on the surrounding trees. Even before reaching the bridge, we caught sight of our bird. Within moments we had crossed over and were enjoying our first views, cameras very much at the ready!
One of the more intriguing aspects of the bird's behaviour was its apparent liking for wasps. It was regularly seen catching them among the trees before expertly dealing with its prey and swallowing it. An unusual addition to the diet perhaps, but clearly a food source it had taken quite a liking to!
Among the familiar faces gathered to watch the bird was Wayne Glossop @WayneGlossop2, capturing images through his scope. Harriet Day @harriet_day joined us shortly afterwards, and we all enjoyed some excellent views as the nutcracker moved around the trees in front of us. We could also Lee Evans at the front of the crowd.
Then, quite suddenly, it took flight and landed on a nearby rooftop, settling along the gutter at the front edge. Its fondness for wasps continued, as it picked them off before making occasional sorties to the roof of the neighbouring building, gradually moving further to the right. Eventually, it flew onto another rooftop and disappeared.
We waited patiently for its return, but in the meantime a local resident came along collecting donations for the village's inshore lifeboat, an appeal that most of the assembled birders were more than happy to support. He was also able to add an interesting piece of local knowledge, explaining that he had seen the nutcracker on the roof of his own garage. He suggested taking a walk around the nearby estate, where the bird might be encountered in gardens or trees.
With Harriet joining us, we decided to follow his advice. We soon came across another group of birders doing the same, although our timing was frustratingly poor. We arrived just after the nutcracker had departed, having apparently flown back in the direction from which we had originally come. It seemed we were destined to keep moving if we wanted to continue seeing this visitor.
Returning to the trees where we had enjoyed our earlier views, we were pleased to discover that the nutcracker had reappeared and was once again putting on a show. We rejoined the gathering of waiting birders and settled down to enjoy its antics.
Meanwhile, Wayne was chatting with the local gentleman collecting donations for the inshore lifeboat. It transpired that Wayne was in the process of setting up a JustGiving Crowdfunding page, allowing visiting birders to contribute towards this worthwhile local cause without using cash in the basket. A link to the fundraising page is included in the embedded post below. When I last looked £1,740 had been donated using the page with further donations given in person.
✅️💥NORTHERN NUTCRACKER💥✅️ ✅️💥JUSTGIVING💥✅️ I have set up a JustGiving page to help raise money for the Inshore Lifeboat at Mundesley. If anybody would like to donate to this cause please see link below. https://t.co/Q46vd5gg4P @BirdGuides #TwitchingTheUkandIreland https://t.co/RmwUBXiBE5
— Wayne Glossop (@WayneGlossop2) October 25, 2026
Birders continued to arrive and depart throughout the morning, and having enjoyed some excellent views ourselves, we felt we had probably secured enough photographs to call it a success. We decided it was time to move on, hopefully easing the pressure on the site for those still waiting to see the nutcracker. Our next target, should the nutcracker have departed, was a desert wheatear that had been showing exceptionally well on Cley Beach. Conveniently, a fresh report had just confirmed that it was still present and performing nicely. With that encouraging news, we packed up and headed off towards Cley stopping only to watch the nutcracker through a hedge where it had relocated to.
We arrived at the Cley Beach car park and set off along the beach, with the wind howling around us. At least it was behind us for the outward walk, although we knew we would have it straight in our faces on the return journey. A group of birders was visible ahead and we naturally assumed they had the desert wheatear in view. However, still almost 100 metres short of the group, a birder began waving his arms, signalling that the bird was actually on the ground just in front of him. We were clearly in the right place and quickly homed in on our bird, getting straight onto the desert wheatear. It alternated between perching on posts and wires, and the ground.
The desert wheatear is a scarce but quite regular autumn visitor to Britain, with an average of around four or five birds recorded annually. Numbers can vary considerably, however, with occasional influxes producing higher totals. The species originates from the arid landscapes of North Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia, making its appearance on the Norfolk coastline particularly interesting.
Our bird at Cley was a handsome first-winter male, initially discovered along the Eye Field fence before moving around the beach area. Its sandy-buff plumage, contrasting darker wings and distinctive tail markings makes it an attractive individual. Typical of the species, it was very active, regularly moving between exposed perches and the ground as it searched for food.
With only eight previous occurrences listed in the Cley Bird Club records up to 2024, this was a nice addition to the site's bird list and a great opportunity to enjoy and photograph another scarce autumn visitor at close quarters.
Eventually, it flew back along the beach towards the area where the birders had been gathered when we first arrived, and we all followed in pursuit. It began feeding along the shingle, doing its best to brace itself against the ferocious wind. I was particularly pleased to have swapped my baseball cap for a woolly hat, as the former would almost certainly have been whisked from my head and sent tumbling down the beach - Kev would likely have got a video or photograph of that this time!
Some of my favourite photographs came when the bird crouched low on a brick structure, seemingly determined to hold its ground and defy the wind as it threatened to sweep it away. It made for some wonderfully characterful images and a memorable end to our encounter. As we made our way back towards the car, we bumped into another familiar face, Oli Beacock, someone we seem to encounter from time to time at various birding locations. The walk back proved to be hard work. Although relatively short, battling into the wind was tiring, making progress difficult and even catching your breath something of a challenge.
We still had time to look for another bird, either somewhere nearby or along the way home, so a quick check of BirdGuides revealed that the rosy starling at Happisburgh had been showing. This would be our next target.
We arrived at the recommended car park, paid the fee and joined around ten other birders who were already scanning through a temporary fence towards the rear of some gardens. The rosy starling had apparently been showing, and both Kev and I managed a quick look through another birder’s scope to get it on our lists and familiarise ourselves with its location.
We quickly set up our own scopes, only for the bird to disappear just as we located it. The wind was fierce once again, and we had to keep a firm hold of our scopes to prevent them from being blown over. After about ten minutes, the bird reappeared on the back of a bush, giving us another opportunity to try for a record shot. Given the challenging conditions, it was about the best we could hope for.
This bird was a juvenile, a particularly interesting find given the species’ scarcity in Britain. Unlike the striking adult, with its rosy-pink body, glossy black head and wings, the juvenile is a much more understated bird, with greyish-brown plumage, darker wings, and a pale yellowish bill. It is an appearance that can make it surprisingly easy to overlook among a flock of common starlings.
Rosy starlings are scarce visitors although numbers have increased over recent decades. Since 2000, the annual average has been around 50 birds, but this varies greatly, with occasional influxes producing higher totals. The record year was 2002, when approximately 195 were recorded. There is also a seasonal difference in the age of birds arriving: adults are more typically seen in late spring and early summer, while juveniles are more likely to appear during the autumn - the Happisburgh bird is therefore a good example of the pattern normally seen at this time of year.
The bird had disappeared once again, and I thought I'd seen it fly off along the hedge line, so we decided to wait a little longer in the hope that it might return. After another half an hour or so, we agreed that standing around in the wind wasn't proving particularly enjoyable, so we called it a day, headed back to the car and began the journey home.
All in all, another fantastic selection of birds to round off a great day out. The desert wheatear had also proved to be a particularly special find, becoming my 300th addition to my BUBO list and allowing me to reach my target with two months to spare. I was certainly a very happy birder!
Year list: 307 (mine), 301 (BUBO).
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