Only two weeks ago I made the long journey to Crail, Fife, to see what was only the second long-tailed shrike ever recorded in Britain. In my recent blog I wrote that "the long-tailed shrike was the sort of bird I may never have the opportunity to see in Britain again." How quickly things can change! Here we are just a fortnight later, and another, completely different long-tailed shrike turned up just 45 minutes from home on the Gloucestershire/Oxfordshire border. For me, it was an unexpected second chance with a species I never imagined I'd encounter in Britain, let alone two within the space of two weeks.
What makes the story even more remarkable is that the Eastleach Downs bird wasn't a newly arrived rarity. It later emerged that it had actually been present between 8 and 16 July after being photographed by a member of the public. Its presence was announced on 18 July and when a search of the area was made, the bird was relocated and reported on Sunday 19 July.
The discovery revealed one of the most extraordinary coincidences in recent British birding. For more than a week, Britain almost certainly hosted two long-tailed shrikes simultaneously - an astonishing situation considering there had previously been just a single accepted British record.
Unsurprisingly, the delayed announcement has prompted plenty of discussion. Nevertheless, it's hard not to wonder what might have been. Had the Gloucestershire bird been identified earlier, birders would have had the unprecedented choice of two long-tailed shrikes in Britain at the same time, with many opting for the far more accessible location.
Whether it was an extraordinary coincidence or simply one of birding's wonderful twists of fate, July 2026 will surely be remembered as the month Britain unexpectedly hosted two long-tailed shrikes at the same time. It's also a timely reminder that rare birds are undoubtedly being overlooked every year, only coming to light through chance - or, perhaps more often, never being recognised at all.
On Sunday morning, just after 11.20am, the news broke on BirdGuides that the long-tailed shrike had been relocated. Barely ten minutes later, Kev @kev07713 gave me a call to say that he and his wife were already on their way and asked if I fancied joining them. Having only recently seen the Crail bird, I decided to give the opening-day crowds a miss and planned instead to visit on the Monday, hoping things would be a little quieter once the initial (weekend) rush was over.
As expected, hundreds of birders descended on Eastleach Martin throughout the day. With the viewing area accessed via a narrow country lane during the height of the harvest season, there were understandable concerns about congestion, blocked access for farm machinery and the fire risk posed by so many vehicles parked alongside dry crops.
Thankfully, a local farmer came to the rescue by opening one of his fields for parking, with donations from each car going towards conservation projects. The arrangement provided a safe and well-organised solution for visiting birders, prevented the narrow lanes and verges from becoming obstructed, and allowed farming operations to continue with minimal disruption. It was an excellent example of the local birding community and landowners working together to manage an exceptional rarity while respecting the needs of a working farm.
So, on Monday morning I was up early and made my way down to the site, passing a long line of birders already in place, many of whom had already enjoyed views of the bird. I pulled into the car park and stopped for a quick chat with Richard Tyler, who was kindly manning the gate. I didn’t stop for long as I was keen to get onto the shrike, but while we talked a few grey partridges scuttled around in the field opposite, providing a nice distraction before the main event.
I then walked the short five-minute stroll along the lane and joined the growing line of birders gathered at the viewing area. The latest news was that the bird was probably on the far side of a large bramble patch and currently out of sight, leaving everyone waiting patiently for it to appear. I looked round and noticed a familiar birder just along from me - it was David Wall - we chatted as we watched and waited.
A small group of birders had positioned themselves at the opposite end of the hedge, and I thought they would have the better chance of seeing the shrike from there. The two viewing areas were linked by a public footpath, which was how this small group had reached their position. Rather than approaching from the lane where I was standing, they had walked in across the fields from the lane beyond, giving them access to the far side of the hedge. Quite where they had managed to park, though, was anyone's guess given the instructions to only park in the field.
After about 15 minutes the shrike flew up onto the top of the brambles, giving me my first view and though distant, I had my scope, so range wasn't an issue. I watched as it hopped along the top of the bramble patch, dropped down to the ground briefly, then climbed back up before disappearing behind the dense vegetation and out of sight for those of us watching from the lane. Those at the opposite end of the hedge, however, appeared to be able to keep it in view.
About ten minutes later the shrike reappeared on top of the brambles, but after less than a minute it flew to a bush almost directly in front of the birders at the far end of the hedge. They must have enjoyed superb views. Although still distant from our position, the bird was now much more exposed and gave good scope views as it then gradually worked its way along the hedge in our direction.
As it disappeared from view at the far end, a couple of birders dropped onto the public footpath and followed its progress. The shrike then slipped back into the hedge and was briefly lost to everyone before emerging again on the opposite side, much closer to the footpath. Eventually it worked close enough for a few photographs, although producing anything worthwhile wasn't easy as the increasing heat haze was already beginning to soften the view.
Before long, some of the birders from the far side made their way down the footpath to join us on the lane. Not long afterwards the shrike worked its way back towards the opposite end of the hedge once again, suggesting it might be quite a while before it came close to us for another opportunity.
We continued to watch the shrike as it worked along the hedge and out into the field, feeding throughout, but it never came any closer to our position. After another half an hour or so, several birders decided they had seen enough and headed back up the public footpath towards their cars, which were parked on the lane beyond. As they approached the area where the shrike was perched, it flew across to the far hedgerow and settled in full view. Rather than continuing on and giving the bird the space to resume feeding along the hedges, the group stopped on the footpath and spent the next twenty minutes watching it from there. Inevitably, this prevented the shrike from working its way back towards the rest of us waiting on the lane.
Eventually I grew tired of this, so I decided to head back to the car park. On the walk back I passed Sandra and Adrian Bletchly, who were making their way towards the viewing area, and stopped briefly for a chat before continuing on my way.
Wednesday arrived and Kev and I decided to make a return visit to RSPB Freiston Shore, as reports of the pectoral sandpipers had continued to come through. We checked the tide times and headed back, although on arrival it was clear that there were fewer waders on the pools than during our previous visit.
This time we didn't hang around the car park area and made our way straight to the viewing screen over the reservoir pool. The number of waders was still relatively low, but there were plenty of wagtails around, mostly yellow wagtails. One individual caught our attention and seemed to be a blue-headed subspecies of yellow wagtail.
Among the other birds present were good numbers of ringed and little ringed plovers, along with a handful of black-tailed godwits. There were no greenshanks on the pools this time, but with high tide still a couple of hours away, we weren't too concerned by the continued absence of the pectoral sandpipers. As the incoming tide pushed more waders onto the reserve, we remained hopeful they would eventually appear.
A little later I noticed a sandpiper drop in beside the track. After watching for a while, I wandered over to investigate and found it was a green sandpiper, a welcome addition to the morning's sightings.
On the walk back I was alerted by the unmistakable jangling call of a corn bunting. After a short search I eventually picked it out, perched obligingly in the open, allowing me to get close enough for a photograph before it flew off.
From the screen we watched as the pools very gradually filling with returning oystercatchers and black-tailed godwits, the latter eventually numbering at least 80 birds on our pool and the oystercatchers on the lagoon behind. Around a dozen little egrets moved around the reserve, occasionally dropping into the pool directly in front of us to preen along the opposite shoreline.
From time to time we stepped out from behind the screen to watch the activity in the grassland behind us, where swallows hawked low over the fields, meadow pipits flitted and hovered, and a variety of butterflies added a splash of colour while we waited for the tide to push more waders onto the reserve.
Despite waiting for another few hours, we eventually had to admit defeat and leave without seeing our target bird. Perhaps we should have made the trip to Keyhaven to look for the other pectoral sandpiper instead, but that's birding - you can't get them all.
The following Saturday, Kev and I arranged to leave at the rather antisocial time of 4.30am to drive down to Churn in the hope of seeing the Montagu's harrier that had been reported the previous day. I joked that we'd arrive at 5.30am, see the bird by 6.30am and be back home in time for breakfast at 7.30am. I'd seen my first Montagu's harrier at the end of June last year (report here) but that was a ring-tail while this is a first-summer male.
The Montagu's harrier is one of Britain's rarest breeding birds of prey and is an elegant, long-winged harrier that breeds mainly across southern and eastern Europe before migrating to sub-Saharan Africa for the winter. In Britain it has always been scarce, with only a handful of breeding pairs in most years, usually nesting in cereal crops where nests require careful protection from harvesting and disturbance. Recent years have seen encouraging conservation success through close cooperation between farmers, volunteers and the RSPB, but the species remains one of our rarest breeding raptors.
The bird at Churn is a first-summer male, a plumage that lacks the full crisp appearance of an adult male. Although already showing the characteristic pale grey body, black wing tips and graceful, buoyant flight of the species, it retains some immature feathers, giving it a slightly less clean-cut appearance than an older bird. It spends much of its time perched on posts or the ground, or quartering low over the crops and rough grassland, using its slow, elastic wingbeats and occasional glides to search for prey before suddenly dropping into the vegetation.
We arrived to find a couple of birders already parked up and made our way to the area where the harrier had been quartering the evening before. Stopping at a concrete pad, we joined another birder (Jake) who confirmed there had been no sign of it so far.
A few minutes later Kev's phone rang. It was Ewan Urquhart (@Stormvogel99), who, as it transpired, was the birder we could see further down the track. We watched for a while before Ewan walked back up to join us, explaining that the light was much better from his position, where the rising sun wasn't shining directly into your eyes as it was from where we were standing. As more birders gradually arrived, Ewan and several others headed back down the track to continue their vigil from the supposedly more favourable viewpoint.
While we waited, there was still plenty to keep us entertained. Buzzards, red kites, kestrels and even a hobby were all seen, but the Montagu's harrier remained elusive. Around us, linnets, stonechats, goldfinches and corn buntings called from the scrub and hedgerows, while deer, hares and a fox moved through the fields in front of us. At least one quail was also calling from the field behind, adding another layer to the morning's soundtrack.
I recognised one of the other birders as Harry, who runs the YouTube channel Winging it with Harry, and who is also undertaking a big year attempt. He mentioned that he generally tries to avoid birding at weekends, but this was a special exception as the early start meant he could get home before most people had even started their day.
At 6.39am, Jake, the birder standing nearby, suddenly spoke up. He had turned around and been scanning in the opposite direction and had picked out the harrier perched on a fence line on the distant horizon, at the top of the slope. Through our scopes we could make out the bird clearly, although to the naked eye it was little more than a speck in the distance. Nine minutes later than I'd suggested!
Photography at this distance would be challenging and so I opted to try for a video through my scope - imagine the view the chap in the video would have had if only he'd looked up!
The birders further down the track soon made their way back to join us as the Montagu’s harrier continued to sit and preen on the fence post. Eventually, it dropped from its perch and flew along the slope, occasionally breaking the skyline as it moved across the hillside.
It paused several times, landing briefly on fence posts and on the ground, but it remained distant throughout. I attempted a few record shots, and while the scope views were good, photography was always going to be difficult. Even at 6.40 am, the heat haze was already surprisingly noticeable, creating a shimmer that made capturing a sharp image of such a distant bird a real challenge.
After about 20 minutes the harrier flew along the ridge and over the top and out of view - we wouldn't see it again.
We decided to try and locate the various quail that were calling around the site and joined a group of birders over the bridge where a field of barley was being harvested. Beyond the bridge, a combine harvester was busy cutting the barley, a reminder that this was very much a working agricultural landscape, with farming activity continuing alongside the excitement of a rare bird.
The combine worked steadily through the barley, its grain tank gradually filling before a a waiting track vehicle and trailer pulled alongside. With the auger extended, the harvested grain was transferred smoothly from the combine into the trailer while both machines continued moving slowly through the field. Once full, the tracked vehicle carried the load across the field to the edge where we stood and another tractor and trailer were waiting. The barley was then transferred again, this time into the road-going trailer ready for transport away from the field. It was an impressive operation to watch, with several machines working in harmony to keep the harvest moving efficiently.
We waited in the hope that the harvesting operation would eventually flush the quail from the remaining crop, but for a long while it was other wildlife that provided the entertainment. Flocks of corn buntings, numbering more than 75 birds, along with skylarks, red-legged partridges and grey partridges were repeatedly disturbed by the advancing machinery. Roe deer and hares also appeared, moving through the shrinking cover as the combine continued its steady progress.
Time passed, and we continued to watch and wait, hoping that the next pass through the crop might finally reveal an elusive quail. A hare suddenly broke cover and came bounding towards us, making a close pass as it searched for somewhere to hide. It paused briefly, clearly unsettled by the lack of cover following the harvest, before eventually finding a route to safety and disappearing.
Kev thought he saw a quail drop out from the remaining cover as the final passes of the combine were made, but unfortunately, we couldn't get a definite identification. Once the harvest was complete and the machinery had moved on, we walked along the footpath, listening carefully as the quail continued to call from the field.
Despite the stubble now being short and offering little cover, we still couldn't locate the bird. It remained frustratingly elusive, giving away its presence only through its distinctive call from somewhere within the field.
We'd spent way longer than we'd expected here but had a great day birding and enjoying the countryside and farm activity - time to head home.
Kev returned the following evening with his wife to see the Montagu's harrier again, while I decided to make another visit on Tuesday morning. The forecast suggested cooler, cloudier conditions, which I hoped might reduce the heat haze and provide a better opportunity for photography.
I arrived to find a handful of birders gathered on the bridge, where the elevated position provided a wide view across the landscape. After spotting Graham Jepson walking along the track, I decided to relocate and, when he stopped, I caught up with him. We waited together, gradually being joined by the birders from the bridge and others arriving for the morning watch.
Once again, there was plenty to keep us entertained, with buzzards, red kites, kestrels and red-legged partridges all noted before, at around 6.30am, one of the birders picked out the Montagu's harrier. Conditions were certainly better than my previous visit, with less heat haze and slightly closer views, although it was still very much a bird best appreciated through a scope rather than through a camera lens.
The harrier quartered the field for a while before eventually disappearing behind a small copse of trees. It was around another 30 minutes before it was relocated, again at distance, as it continued hunting across the slope. This time, however, we watched as it dropped to the ground and appeared to catch some prey. It then flew a few tens of metres before dropping back down again.
Graham, myself and another birder decided to walk along the track in the hope of locating the bird on the ground and perhaps getting the chance to watch it take off. Before we reached the area where we thought it had landed, the harrier was already back in the air, working its way towards where we had come from. I held back slightly and followed its progress as it eventually reached the horse gallops and jumps, where it dropped out of view once again.
After another 15 minutes or so, the bird took to the air once more, flying up and over the ridge before disappearing from sight. With that, it was time to head home for breakfast. Before leaving, I had a quick chat with Bryan Manston, who had also joined the group and had managed to enjoy some additional views of this superb bird.
Year list: 271.
