I’d never been birding at Spurn before and, having set myself the target of recording more than 300 species during the year, I’d always considered it an essential destination during the autumn migration. With easterly winds seemingly in short supply this autumn, we’d been waiting for a suitable opportunity to visit, hopefully catching up with some incoming migrants and perhaps a few rarer species along the way.
My wife declined the opportunity to join me, so I teamed up with Kev @kev07713 and his wife, Karen @karenheath62, and we booked a couple of nights away. The forecast initially suggested that the prevailing westerly and southerly winds might finally give way to north-easterlies and easterlies, creating the conditions we were hoping for.
We left booking as late as possible to give the forecast time to settle and improve our chances of getting it right. However, as our departure date approached, the anticipated easterlies seemed to slip back by a couple of days. With the accommodation booked and no option to cancel or rearrange our stay, we decided to go anyway and hope that Spurn would still deliver.
I'm told that Spurn is one of those places that every birder should experience, particularly during the autumn migration. Its unique position, jutting out into the Humber Estuary and exposed to the North Sea, makes it a natural landfall for birds arriving from the continent and a magnet for migrants moving along the east coast. When the winds are in the right direction, almost anything can turn up, from large numbers of common migrants to the scarcer and more unexpected visitors that make a trip like this so exciting.
It’s this sense of anticipation that makes Spurn so special. Every hedgerow, patch of scrub and line of bushes apparently has the potential to hold something interesting, while the beach, dunes, saltmarsh and surrounding fields offer a constantly changing variety of habitats to explore. Even a seemingly quiet day can produce a surprise, and with the possibility of a rarity always in the back of your mind, there’s never really a dull moment. For anyone chasing a year list, it’s an obvious destination. It’s also ideally positioned as a base for heading north to Flamborough or Bempton Cliffs should anything interesting turn up there.
We planned to arrive before 9.00am, allowing time for a breakfast stop along the way, so that we could make the most of our first day. Parking opposite the Discovery Centre, we decided to begin with a walk along the Canal footpath.
We hadn’t gone far before our first sightings, with a couple of jays appearing almost immediately. Then, within the first 50 metres, we were treated to a much better sight as 13 birds flew overhead together, heading north. We would encounter a few more jays during our stay, but never again in quite the same numbers - the sighting raised the intriguing possibility that we were witnessing some autumn movement, perhaps even birds arriving from the continent. Jays are largely resident in Britain, but continental movements do occur but could also just relate to dispersal.
Although jays are familiar birds in many parts of the country, they are an unusual species for Spurn. At this exposed coastal location, where woodland birds are less frequently encountered, their presence is always noteworthy. Seeing 13 together so early in the day was an unexpected bonus and a promising start to our visit.
Our walk produced a good variety of species, including both bar-tailed and black-tailed godwits, Brent geese, grey plovers, dunlin, siskins and stonechats, among others. There were also 300 or more golden plovers in the area, making for an impressive sight. Of particular interest were a couple of sparrowhawks, tearing around the area as they looked for any opportunities that might present themselves.
Having explored the churchyard at Kilnsea, we eventually stopped for some lunch at the Crown and Anchor. While we were eating, news came through of a jack snipe at Syke’s Pond, so we headed down there afterwards to see if we could track it down. It was a species Karen had yet to add to her year list, making it well worth the walk.
Initially, we struggled to locate the bird, but we soon bumped into Peter Webster, a birder we’d encountered on the road on several occasions. He’d seen the jack snipe earlier when it was showing in front of the reeds, and, after scanning the area, he managed to pick it out again. This time, it was tucked away on a grassy bank, partly obscured by the reeds. It certainly wasn’t an easy bird to spot, let alone get a clear view of, but with Peter’s help we were able to get onto it.
We continued our walk and added tree sparrow to the day’s list, but with the winds still coming from the wrong direction, it was becoming increasingly apparent that small birds were in short supply. Even the much-anticipated fall of goldcrests had failed to materialise.
We made our way through the Obs Garden and up to the observation tower, where we saw a couple more sparrowhawks speeding out from the hedgerows and across the fields. They seemed to be patrolling the area, presumably hoping to catch starlings or smaller flocks of birds moving through. Unfortunately, with so few small birds around, there appeared to be limited opportunities for them to take advantage of.
We decided to retrace our steps along the Canal footpath when news came through of a merlin perched on the lighthouse out at the Point. This was the same location Peter had mentioned he was heading to next, for the third time during his stay. Although we could make out the lighthouse in the distance, it was obviously far too far away to have any chance of picking out a merlin from where we stood.
This led to a conversation about Kev and Karen’s previous visit, when they had walked all the way out to Middle Point in the hope of seeing a rosefinch, which couldn't be relocated by the time they got there. They remembered just how exhausting the walk had been, and we agreed that it would take something genuinely rare to persuade us to make the same trek!
As it turned out, we didn’t need to go anywhere. Suddenly, I spotted a small raptor skimming along the water’s edge, and a quick look through my binoculars confirmed it was a merlin, presumably making its way back from the Point. It remained distant, but its shape and flight were unmistakable, even as it passed with the sun behind it. A welcome sighting and a nice reward for our decision to stick to the Canal footpath!
Earlier in the day, Peter had told us about several owls showing along the route we would be taking to our accommodation. There had been two barn owls and two short-eared owls in the area. The barn owls were likely to be resident birds, but there was a chance that the short-eared owls were recent arrivals and might only be passing through.
We pulled in beside a set-aside field and settled down to wait as the fading light brought the day towards a close. A few spots of rain began to fall, but after around 20 minutes, a barn owl appeared at the far end of the field. Kev and I quickly jumped out of our cars, hoping that the conditions might allow us to grab a few photographs. Fortunately, the rain had stopped, and we were ready for action.
Things soon got even better as the single barn owl became four, before a couple of short-eared owls appeared as well. It was turning into a rewarding end to the day, and a shortly after Peter Webster joined us, having also made his way to the field. Together, we watched one of the shorties settle on a ploughed field, providing a lovely opportunity to observe this wonderful owl at rest. It was a fitting end to our first day at Spurn, with the prospect of more to come as we headed off to our accommodation.
The following morning, we arrived and parked in almost the same spot as the previous day. Looking across the fields to our left, we spotted a lone golden plover, which seemed to have made this field its regular haunt. It would become a familiar sight on our arrival over the following days, always alone and seemingly in the same spot.
With small birds having been in such short supply the previous day, we decided to head straight for the sea watching hide by the Warren to see what might be passing offshore. By the time we arrived, the hide was already full of early arrivals, but we managed to find a spot on the bench outside, directly in front of it. Sitting out in the stiff wind wasn't particularly comfortable, but we settled in and turned our attention to the sea, hoping that the conditions might produce something worthwhile.
I was joined on my left by a young birder, Eva Finney, who proved helpful when, within about ten minutes of settling in, a pomarine skua was called. Initially, I struggled to make out what was being announced from inside the hide, and then to work out exactly where everyone was suggesting to look. My thick woollen hat, pulled down over my ears to keep out the wind, probably wasn't helping matters!
With a bit of quick communication, however, I eventually managed to locate the bird in my scope and follow it as it flew south in the distance. It wasn't the closest of views, but there was no mistaking the significance of the sighting - a pomarine skua and a new addition to my life list! A great start to our sea watching session.
We continued sea watching, watching several Arctic skuas chasing little gulls and kittiwakes, along with a single great skua, (aka bonxie), and several sooty shearwaters. There were multiple divers, both red- and black-throated and small flocks of common scoters. We also managed a view of a juvenile Sabine’s gull, which was reported again later in the day. It was another much-anticipated year tick and a welcome addition to the list. Unfortunately, as is so often the case with sea watching, all the birds were simply too distant to offer any realistic photographic opportunities, leaving us to enjoy the sightings through our scopes and binoculars instead.
After lunch at the Discovery Centre, I spotted a report of a long-tailed skua among a feeding flock seen from the sea watching hide. Keen to try and catch up with this species, I apologised to Karen for wanting to head back for another sea watching session. Thankfully, she was happy to oblige, and we made our way back to the hide in the hope of a second chance.
We watched the various bird passing through but then I noticed another skua sitting on the water, rather surprisingly being harassed by a lesser black-backed gull, which eventually flew off. I pointed the bird out to the other birders, although initially there didn't seem to be much interest. With a little persistence, however, I managed to get a few of them looking, and we eventually established that it was a juvenile long-tailed skua - another lifer.
Juvenile long-tailed skuas can be surprisingly inconspicuous, lacking the distinctive long tail streamers and contrasting plumage of the adults. Their subdued, sooty-brown appearance can make them less immediately recognisable, particularly at a distance and when sitting on the water.
As we watched, it became increasingly apparent that something was wrong with the bird. Its right wing appeared to be damaged, and every so often it attempted to take off. On a couple of occasions, it managed to get partially airborne, but it couldn't sustain its flight. The damage to its primary feathers looked extensive, and it soon became clear that the bird was in a precarious position.
We watched helplessly as it was gradually pushed closer to the shore, into the shallower water where the waves were breaking. Eventually, a wave appeared to engulf the stricken skua, and it disappeared. A few of us made our way down to the beach to search for any sign of it, but initially there was nothing to be found.
Assuming the bird was lost we eventually left for coffee, with the bird's fate weighing on our minds. However, an update arrived later, accompanied by a photograph, bringing some welcome news. They had managed to rescue the skua from the shore, and it had been taken into care while arrangements were made for its transfer to a rescue and rehabilitation centre by Eva.
Sadly, the story didn't have the happy ending we had hoped for. By the end of the week, we heard that the injuries were too severe and that the decision had been made to put the bird to sleep. It was a sobering end to what had otherwise been an exciting sea watching session. Finding a juvenile long-tailed skua was a memorable moment but watching such a beautiful bird struggle and ultimately succumb to its injuries was a reminder that, for all the excitement birding can bring, nature doesn't always deliver the outcome we hope for.
On our return to Kilnsea, we spent some time checking the trees and bushes, eventually finding our first goldcrest and several small flocks of brambling. Unfortunately, none of the birds stayed still for long enough to give us a decent photographic opportunity, so we had to be content with the sightings.
We’d spent a good part of the day sea watching before finishing up by searching for smaller birds around the church and in the Obs Garden. With the light beginning to fade, we eventually headed back towards our accommodation, although not before stopping to watch a barn owl. We couldn’t stay for long, however, as we needed to get to the restaurant in time to secure a table. There was a party taking place that evening, and seating was likely to be at a premium.
The entertainment laid on for the evening turned out to be great fun, particularly when the female singer used a voice changer to lower her pitch and transform herself into Trevor! It was an unexpected and thoroughly entertaining end to another day at Spurn.
The following morning, we decided to return to the sea watching hide to see what else we might pick up. As it turned out, there was quite a lot to keep us occupied. Alongside the birds out on the water, we were also treated to a snow bunting feeding right in front of the hide.
Kev and Karen had found a spot just beyond the hide, where they were partially sheltered from the wind. I’d had to head back along the lane to find somewhere to park, as things were now considerably busier and the best option for me was to settle back on the bench in front of the hide, which, as it happened, gave me a lovely view of the snow bunting.
There were at least three sooty shearwaters passing at longer range, along with a great skua (bonxie), although all were still too distant to offer any photographic opportunities. A rather unusual pairing also came through, with an Arctic skua being followed by a long-tailed skua, though these too remained distant. The closest approach of the morning came from one of two Manx shearwaters, which gave us a much better view.
The chap beside me seemed to be a regular visitor and occasionally chatted with the people behind us in the hide. As we continued scanning the sea, he called out a Leach's petrel. It wasn't too difficult to pick up, being neither particularly distant nor especially close. It would be one of three that I managed to see during the session, although the views were nowhere near as good as those we'd enjoyed over the last month at Leasowe on the Wirral.
Finally, we were treated to a closer flypast from two Arctic skuas, cutting across the water as the waves continued to build and crash ever closer to the shore. They beautifully demonstrated the classic falcon-like silhouette of a hunting skua, with broad-based wings tapering to sharply pointed tips. Flying low, fast and with real power, they cut straight across the troughs between the waves, displaying the classic coastal hunting behaviour as they patrol for opportunities to ambush and rob commuting little gulls and kittiwakes.
There were a few other specialities passing through, including red-breasted mergansers, gannets, common scoters and divers, but nothing new for either the visit or the year list.
Kev's sister Karen @hobbylovinglife and her partner Dean @worlebirder had also arrived and were enjoying their sea watch. They were visiting from Sunday through to Friday and, having arranged their dates some time ago, had been rather fortunate with their timing and the imminent change in wind direction.
Dean was keen to spend a little more time sea watching, so Kev, Karen and I made our way back to the cars before heading over to the Crown and Anchor. We were hoping to connect with the common (mealy) redpolls that had been reported between there and the entrance to the Obs ringing area. These continental birds, known as mealy redpolls, make landfall after crossing the North Sea from Scandinavia and northeastern Europe.
Initially, we could pick up flocks of bramblings passing overhead and followed them in the hope that they might contain something else of interest. We then headed back down towards Syke's to check whether the birds reported there were still in attendance. Having failed to locate any, we began making our way back towards the Crown and Anchor.
It was then that we spotted two mealy redpolls dropping into the trees to our right. One briefly popped out onto a wire above, offering a tantalising photographic opportunity. Unfortunately, by the time we'd got our cameras raised and ready, it had dropped back down and disappeared. That would have made a lovely photograph!
Karen and Dean had since changed their minds, packed up and joined us watching the trees around the church. A few bramblings dropped into one of the trees alongside a couple of goldfinches, but they were soon joined by a lone mealy redpoll. This would be one of several we would see along this stretch over the next fifteen minutes or so.
With time getting on, we decided to drop back down to the car park at the Crown and Anchor, where we joined a small group of birders watching the trees. There was plenty to keep us occupied, with long-tailed tits, a few chiffchaffs and a yellow-browed warbler all putting in an appearance.
After this welcome distraction, we decided it was finally time for lunch and headed towards the pub. However, having spotted some siskins in a tree nearby, we also noticed more redpolls feeding amongst them. It seemed there was always something else to look at! Eventually we got into the pub and enjoyed their Sunday Roast.
After lunch, we made our way down to Sammy's Point, where we picked up another mealy redpoll, this time perched on a fence wire. Once again, though, it just wouldn't position itself in a clear enough spot for a photograph. Eventually, it took flight and appeared to land much further away, but despite a search, I couldn't relocate it.
I walked back to join the others, and we were fortunate to bump into three birders who had reported a little owl in the first paddock about an hour earlier. They pointed out the area where it had been seen and, sure enough, not far from the spot, we found the little owl basking in the sunshine.
Before we could even attempt a record shot, a crow flushed it from its perch. The owl dropped lower into the bushes before moving down onto the ground. It remained there for only a few tens of seconds before being disturbed again, this time diving into a bush and disappearing.
We made our way down for a closer look and tried to relocate it, but without success. Our search was eventually brought to an end when a tractor appeared and began cutting the meadow directly in front of the bushes where the owl had disappeared.
There was, however, a lovely kestrel hunting along the field edge, and we spent some time watching it as it hovered beautifully over the grass. Despite several attempts, it never committed to a dive or dropped down to catch its prey.
Karen and Dean decided to walk further along the coast, while Kev, Karen and I headed off to Kilnsea Wetlands and Beacon Ponds, a site I hadn't visited yet. After parking up, we made our way up the slope, noting just how empty the pools and wetlands appeared. Reaching the top, we turned left and headed in the direction of where three shore larks had been reported. October sees the return of shore larks to the east coast, with these Scandinavian visitors crossing the North Sea to spend the winter along our coastline.
It was quite a walk, and with Kev's foot beginning to cause him some discomfort, I pushed on ahead and reached the pool before the others. By this time, there was just one other female birder on site. She indicated where the birds had been seen and suggested they might have retreated into the grass. I scanned the area but couldn't find anything.
It soon became apparent that she'd been looking through someone else's scope and had actually pointed me towards the wrong white post! Having now identified the correct area, we started to pick them up: first one, then a second, and finally all three shore larks were in view.
We were joined by Karen and Dean but soon we started back to the car spotted lots of wildfowl and a lone sanderling on the way. Back at the car we started back to our accommodation but again stopped to watch owls, having more time to return as we'd already had our main meal for the day.
We sat and watched as a couple of barn owls appeared, one quartering close to our side of the set-aside field. It continued to quarter the field, flying low over the grass with slow, deliberate wingbeats. Suddenly, it spotted something beneath the vegetation and tipped forward, dropping rapidly towards the ground. Its wings swept upwards as it extended its legs and talons, striking the grass. There was a short pause before it lifted away, a vole firmly clasped in its talons. A successful hunt. We pulled stumps and returned to our rooms for the night.
The winds had changed overnight and, as expected, the difference in the number of small birds greeting us the following morning was immediately obvious. Goldcrests, bramblings, finches and redpolls were all evident, making for a much livelier start to the day.
Several woodcocks were flushed from various spots around the Crown and Anchor, and we also picked up a short-eared owl. We spent some time scanning the surrounding fields, where there were plenty of hares, pheasants, curlews and godwits to keep us occupied.
With the change in conditions bringing an influx of migrants, there was a real sense of anticipation. Could the changing winds deliver something a little rarer before the day was out?
We continued enjoying the variety of birds along this stretch until it was time to think about lunch. Kev, Karen and I made our way along to the Discovery Centre, where two black redstarts had been reported, although we drew a blank on those. We finished lunch before Karen and Dean arrived and passed on the news that a "possible" black-faced bunting had been reported out on Spurn Point.
As we left, we weren't particularly committed to making the long walk out along the point. It is quite an undertaking, and Kev and Karen reminded me of their previous trip out there in search of a rosefinch, which had ended without a sighting. However, by the time we reached the lane, news had come through that the "possible" sighting had been upgraded to a "confirmed" record. We looked at each other, and that was that - we were off.
Walking over the sand wasn't easy, and with Kev's foot still giving him trouble, I forged ahead, agreeing that we'd meet up at the other end. Along the way, news came through that the bunting had moved further down the track, to the south of the sheep field. I arrived about ten minutes ahead of the other two and was treated to a lone brambling feeding just off the path on the way - Kev and Karen also seeing it as they passed. It also gave me a welcome opportunity to catch my breath before continuing on.
When I reached the line of birders, it appeared that the bird had been lost, and after Kev and Karen had joined me, people gradually began to disperse. Then news came through that it had been reported further back down the track, prompting those still around to turn and head off again in the hope of relocating it.
Despite a little misinformation along the way, we pressed on and eventually came across Karen and Dean near the hide, which the bird had apparently just flown over. Amazingly, they had seen the bunting perched on top of a bush before it flew. Lucky beggars! Not that we were jealous, of course!
We continued in the direction the bird had taken, although we were beginning to wonder whether we'd ever get to see it. Then another call went up to say it had been relocated, and we reached the spot just as the bird disappeared into deeper cover between the marram grass and taller scrub.
We settled down to wait, and after several false alarms, mostly involving chiffchaffs and even a woodcock that burst out of the vegetation, the bird finally appeared. It flew onto a bush and remained there just long enough for us to confirm its identity. I quickly raised my camera, but it took off almost immediately, and I very luckily managed to capture a shot of it in flight, right on the edge of the frame.
We followed its movements around the area and, although we managed a few more glimpses as it flew between patches of cover, it invariably disappeared straight back into the marram grass. It was proving to be a particularly elusive bird, but at least we'd finally connected with our black-faced bunting! - another lifer and this time for us all.
We trudged our way back along the track and over the sand towards the cars, where we discovered that several more birds had been reported at Sammy's Point: an Isabelline wheatear, a barred warbler and a Pallas's warbler. We were soon back in the cars and heading over there, as two of these species would be lifers for me, with all three offering the possibility of adding to my year list.
Leaving the car park, we passed the first paddock, where the Isabelline wheatear was reportedly still present. A line of birders indicated the best viewing area, and it took us only a few minutes to get onto the bird and secure our tick.
The Isabelline wheatear is a distinctive-looking species, with characteristic pale, uniform sandy-brown, almost parchment-like upperparts. Its prominent pale white supercilium is particularly noticeable, being much whiter in front of the eye, between the eye and bill, than behind it. This is a useful field mark when separating it from a female or first-winter northern wheatear. Other features include its long, dark legs, robust black bill and relatively short tail. Combined with its upright, rather erect posture, these characteristics make it possible to distinguish from similar-looking wheatears.
Beside the wheatear was a black redstart, darting around and rising to catch insects. A marvellous bonus bird.
Lovely though these birds were, there was still at least one more species to catch up with: the barred warbler. As is so often the case, when we arrived the bird was nowhere to be seen, but it wasn't long before it eventually appeared. From then on, it was a matter of patience and waiting for a decent opportunity to get some photographs.
It was another welcome find, and I think this particular bird appeared to be a first-winter individual. Most barred warblers recorded in the UK during autumn are first-year birds, with adults being encountered only exceptionally rarely. Young birds tend to have rather browner, less contrasting plumage than adults, with a dark eye and a generally softer, more subdued appearance.
Like many barred warblers on autumn passage, it was keeping largely to cover, making sightings something of a waiting game. However, every now and again it would venture onto the front of the bushes, giving us some lovely views and, eventually, a few opportunities to get the photographs we'd been hoping for.
There was a negative report for the Pallas's warbler and, with the light beginning to fade, we decided it was time to make our way back to the car. As we headed back, a flock of white-fronted geese passed overhead, accompanied by a lone spoonbill. A lovely end to the day, and our first white-fronted geese of the autumn.
With the sky putting on a particularly attractive display and looking almost as good as we did ourselves (or so we thought!), it seemed the perfect opportunity to capture a group photograph. We gathered and made the most of the colourful backdrop and recorded the moment, rounding off what had been a memorable day of birding and good company.
Before heading back to our accommodation, we made one final stop at another set-aside field, adjacent to the one we'd been watching on previous evenings, in the hope of catching up with a few more owls. We started with a barn owl quartering the field, but it wasn't long before a short-eared owl appeared and began putting on a wonderful display, giving us some superb views and keeping everyone entertained. Karen and Dean had now joined us too, so there was plenty of appreciation all round.
Eventually, the short-eared owl dropped onto a low perch, while the barn owl disappeared. We weren't left waiting long, though, as a second short-eared owl suddenly appeared and began flying around the field, briefly interacting with the perched bird. It didn't stay for long before heading over the hedge and disappearing into an adjoining field.
Shortly afterwards, the first bird took to the air again, treating us to a few more flypasts before also disappearing. What a way to round off the day! Another incredible encounter with these beautiful owls. Sorry for the number of photos that follow!
The following morning, we initially considered heading up to Flamborough in the hope of connecting with the Radde's warbler. In the end, though, we decided to return to Sammy's Point to have another look for the Pallas's warbler. News of a sighting had come through on one of the WhatsApp channels after we'd left the previous evening, so there was still a chance it might be around. We could also keep an eye out for any updates on the Radde's warbler at Flamborough before deciding what to do next - as it turned out there were no further reports that day of any of these birds.
We searched the areas where the Pallas's warbler had been reported, but there was no sign of it. There was still plenty of activity to keep us occupied, though, with woodcock being flushed from cover, white-fronted geese passing along the shoreline, and good numbers of redwing moving through, accompanied by a few fieldfares. A sparrowhawk also appeared, adding a little excitement to our search, but the elusive Pallas's warbler remained firmly off the radar.
We jumped back into the cars and began making our way towards Kilnsea, intending to see what might be around the Obs or the Crown and Anchor. However, as we passed Kilnsea Wetlands, an update came through reporting a black kite coming in off the sea and passing over Beacon Ponds. We quickly pulled into the car park, suddenly understanding why there had been people standing outside their cars along the road!
Almost immediately, another update followed, suggesting that the black kite had landed in the fields just north of Sammy's Point. Without hesitation, we turned around and headed back towards the reported location. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, news came through that the bird had already moved on.
There was a further twist later, when an update suggested that the bird might actually have been a West Siberian intergrade between black kite and black-eared kite, presumably identified from photographs taken as it passed through. An intriguing possibility, and certainly an unexpected appearance - however, we'd managed to miss it.
We returned to our original plan and began slowly making our way away from Sammy's Point. I was now out in front, with Kev and Karen following a little way behind. Then, quite suddenly, Kev appeared in my rear-view mirror and my phone started ringing. I answered to hear the rather urgent instruction: "Put your foot down!"
I did as requested, and we began picking up speed. "So, where are we going?" I asked. Apparently, news had come through that a Radde's warbler had been caught and ringed at the ringing station behind the Obs garden, and it was due to be shown to birders in around fifteen minutes. There was no time to waste!
We arrived, parked up and joined the growing throng of birders who had also managed to get there in time. The bird was quite something to see, although the full level excitement was short-lived when it was subsequently re-identified as a dusky warbler - still an amazing bird. Once the examination was complete, it was released, and we watched as it spun away and flew off in the direction of the Obs garden / Crown and Anchor.
Later, the dusky warbler was relocated in the car park of the Crown and Anchor, a familiar hotspot for sightings of scarce and rare migrants. Not quite the Radde's warbler we'd initially been expecting, but still a lovely bird to connect with!
We then repaired to the Discovery Centre for breakfast/brunch and from where I decided to depart on my homeward journey. However, there was a twist for the return journey in that an American (buff-bellied) pipit had been located at Clifford Hill GP in Northampton and I set my next stop - not home, but the suggested car park in Northampton.
The American (buff-bellied) pipit is an understated bird, and at first glance it could easily be mistaken for one of our more familiar pipits. However, when you spend a little time looking at it, its subtle differences begin to emerge. The British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) classifies it as a very rare autumn visitor to Britain - there have been 72 accepted records up until the end of 2025.
It has a rather compact appearance, with greyish-brown upperparts contrasting with its noticeably warmer buff-coloured underparts. The breast is delicately streaked with darker markings, which become less prominent towards the belly, while the flanks also have that characteristic warm buff tone.
The head is plain, with a pale eyebrow running above the dark eye, and a fine, dark bill. Its legs are dark, giving it a slightly different appearance from some of our resident pipits.
As it moves across the ground, it has a purposeful, rather upright gait, frequently pausing to pick at small insects and other invertebrates. Its tail bobs rhythmically as it walks, and a familiar characteristic of many pipits.
I arrived and, although I had driven through a few showers on the way, it was currently dry. Grabbing my camera and binoculars, I set off towards the bird, passing Harry Boorman (https://www.youtube.com/@Wingingitwithharry) as he was leaving site. Thankfully, the bird was still present - phew! There were still a handful of birders watching it, so I made my way over to join them. Of course, that was when the rain decided to start falling!
I soon got onto the bird and realised that one of my fellow birders was Gary Watton. We exchanged a quick greeting, recognising each other, before turning our attention straight back to our American visitor. As the rain became progressively heavier, people began to drift away. In hindsight, perhaps that wasn't the best decision, as the bird had initially been feeding some distance away but eventually worked its way closer, seemingly completely unconcerned by our presence. This gave us some much better views and opportunities to appreciate it properly.
Eventually, thoroughly soaked, we all decided enough was enough and headed off, leaving nobody watching the bird. I then faced the 1.3-mile walk back to the car, discovering along the way that my supposedly waterproof jacket wasn't quite as waterproof as I had imagined!
What an amazing few days away and such a fantastic time spent with Kev and Karen, who introduced me to Spurn, a place they have visited many times before. It was great to finally experience it for myself and share some memorable birding moments together.
Year list: 304 (mine), 298 (BUBO).
