The weekend arrived and I was going to be birding solo, as Kev was away at a family weekend for the whole weekend. Looking at potential birds to visit, I noticed that the weather in the east was looking best for much of the day, and there were a couple of Temminck’s stints at Dernford Farm Reservoir, near Cambridge - a species I’d yet to see this year and one that is slightly unusual for the time of year.
Temminck’s stint is a scarce passage migrant in Britain, with most records occurring during spring, particularly in May. Autumn birds are much less frequent, although August does fall within the recognised autumn passage period, with the BTO describing the species as occurring “sporadically in autumn”.
Dernford Farm Reservoir is a relatively small, fairly new reservoir, created following gravel extraction and now used as a water-storage reservoir. Despite its modest size and inland location, it has quickly gained a reputation as a productive birding site, particularly for passage migrants. The open water is surrounded by fields and hedgerows, while falling water levels can leave exposed muddy margins that are particularly attractive to waders. The site has apparently produced a surprisingly good variety of birds over the years, making it one of those places where a quick visit can sometimes turn up something rather special.
I left early to try to stay ahead of the weather and decided not to stop for breakfast on the way, wanting to give myself the best possible chance of seeing the birds if they were still present after being confirmed there the previous evening. I arrived in the car park and made the roughly (only) 125-metre walk to the reservoir, where three birders were already watching. They confirmed that the stints were still present, although they described them as being rather “flighty” and said they had lost track of them for the moment.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before we picked them up, as they seemed to be favouring two spots around the water’s edge. We watched from our original position for a few minutes before a couple of us, myself included, walked further along the path in the hope of finding a better angle for photographs. Fortuitously, the two stints then came together, close enough for me to capture both in the same frame.
With the stints safely in the bag and nothing else of note showing on the reservoir, I checked BirdGuides and noticed that a wryneck was still being reported in the bushes at Aldeburgh. I was already halfway there, so decided that, as I was heading east anyway, I was still going in the right direction - although it would add considerably to the distance for the return journey.
A wryneck is certainly worth the extra miles, particularly as I had dipped one at Farmoor Reservoir the previous day. On that occasion, only half a dozen or so birders had managed to see it, including Kev, as it had shown briefly on the far side of the bushes from where most of us were standing. Then, just as they were hoping for another opportunity, a torrential downpour arrived and the bird disappeared, never showing again when I eventually got there.
I checked the pin drop and chose a parking spot that would put me within a relatively short walk of the bird and fortunately found somewhere to park without too much trouble. I picked up my kit, put on my boots and set off along the track, looking for a way down to where the wryneck was supposedly showing.
I came across a conservation area access gate and took that route, as it seemed to lead further along the track than the position marked by the pin. Unfortunately, when I reached the end, there was no way to take the left turn I needed. I retraced my steps and walked back to see if I could access the field from an earlier turning, only to find that wasn't the right route either.
I then bumped into a family group, whose son was carrying a camera and was also hoping to see the wryneck. They had been in the field behind but, like me, couldn't see any birders or work out how to access the area marked by the pin. Helpfully, the details stated that it was “still in scrub along river wall footpath by old brick dock”, but for a first-time visitor that didn't really tell us much.
I continued working my way around the area and spent about 45 minutes trying to make sense of it all before finally finding another birder - by then the family had given up and left. He explained that the pin drop was incorrect and, even better, that the bird had been seen about half a mile from where I was standing. Brilliant!
He gave me some directions, and off I set once again, this time hopefully in the right direction. Worryingly, he said that he and several other birders had been unable to relocate the bird, despite earlier reports and birders suggesting that it had been showing intermittently.
I reached the sea wall and the wooden steps and began working the area, hoping to get a view of the bird. But after more than an hour and a half of searching, I still hadn't found anything. All the while I was completely on my own, with no sign of any other birders to increase the pairs of eyes looking. I did at least have a fly-through sparrowhawk, although it was little consolation given what I was really hoping to see.
I decided to make a circuit of the marsh and, along the way, had good views of sandpipers, common terns, ruff, yellow wagtails and several other species, but they did little to make up for the continuing absence of the wryneck. When I reached the area where it had been showing, I returned to the task of searching and was soon joined by two local birders who seemed to have even more specific information about where it had been seen.
It turned out I had been searching in the right area, but even with the additional details we still couldn't relocate the wryneck. Eventually, the weather and rain caught up with me, and I decided it was time to call it a day. I made my way back to the car empty-handed and very wet, ready for the long journey home, only to encounter a deluge on the way. The rain became so heavy at times that visibility was severely reduced, and it was difficult to even see the road ahead.
Still smarting from dipping wrynecks twice, I contacted Kev on Monday to see if he fancied a trip to Merthyr Tydfil to look for an Ortolan bunting. It would be a lifer for me, having dipped one at Wykeham Forest a couple of years ago, but not for Kev, who had already seen this bird a few days before my visit. Unfortunately, he was busy until Thursday, so rather than wait and risk missing them, I made plans to visit solo, setting off at breakfast time on Tuesday morning.
The journey was uneventful, and I pulled into the recommended parking area, finding a couple of other cars already there. I could see three birders down by the railway tracks, in the area where the Ortolan bunting had been reported over the previous few days. I walked through the gate, onto the trackside verge and along towards the first birder I came across.
He turned around and greeted me with, “Hi Kyle!” It was Steve Wilson @stevewilson1706 who Kev and I had chatted with online and met on a couple of occasions this year. Perhaps the accent had given me away and jogged his memory! Steve had been the first person on site at about 8.00am and had agreed with the other two birders that they would alert each other if any of them located the buntings. We settled in for the vigil, scanning and walking up and down the tracks on either side in the hope of picking up a glimpse. More birders trickled in and increased the pairs of eyes looking for the birds.
They were reported to favour the rough grass and scrub along the railway, often dropping out of sight into the grass and then appearing briefly before disappearing again. Given the open nature of the habitat, it wasn't surprising just how difficult they could be to locate, with even several birders searching the area.
The Ortolan bunting is a compact, sleek little bunting, roughly the size of a reed bunting but with a more streamlined appearance. The head and upper breast are a distinctive grey-green, contrasting with a yellowish throat, moustachial stripe and prominent yellowish eye-ring. The upperparts are warm brown and heavily streaked, while the lower breast, belly and flanks have a warm orange-buff tone. The small, conical bill is pinkish, as are the legs, and the dark eye stands out against the paler facial markings. The tail is dark with conspicuous white outer feathers, particularly noticeable when the bird takes flight.
At one point I got a little excited when I picked out what appeared to be a bunting perched on a bush, but a quick review of the photos I'd hurriedly taken revealed it to be nothing more than a female reed bunting. We found plenty of stonechats and meadow pipits, along with more reed buntings, but there was no sign of the Ortolan buntings among them.
Steve and I joked that, as the birds had first been reported at around 10.30am each day, perhaps that was when we'd finally locate them. As if on cue, at 10.30am the chap next to me turned and said he thought he'd just seen them in a tree along the far fenceline. Unfortunately, by the time he'd mentioned it, the birds had already flown down and disappeared. He had, however, managed to get a photograph, and although it wasn't the clearest of images, there was enough of a pale moustachial stripe for Steve and I to agree that they were indeed Ortolan buntings.
We quickly shared the news with the other birders, and suddenly everyone's attention was focused on the area where the birds had apparently dropped from the tree.
It was only about five minutes before a call went up that one of the Ortolan buntings had landed on top of what looked like a berberis bush, the colour of the bush adding to the views in the sunshine. I picked it up quickly in my binoculars and, just as I raised my camera, it flew, but fortunately dropped lower and to the left, remaining within the bush and still in view. I quickly fired off a series of photos, relieved that I'd managed to keep it in sight.
The bird then flew to the left and out of view, but as we followed, both it and the second bunting took to the air and continued further along to the bushes at the far end of the track, close to the gate and the road leading back up to the cars. One stopped briefly in the grass, and I watched as it crawled through the stems like a mouse, but was soon off to join the other bird. We followed and, as we scanned, Steve picked out one of the birds perched right on the edge of a berry bush. Unfortunately, it was partly obscured by foliage from a tree in front and further obscured by the fence and barbed wire running along the top.
I tried to get a photograph, but with so much in the way, the result was less successful.
We lost sight of the birds and waited to see if they might emerge from the bush, perhaps giving us another opportunity if they landed on the fences or wires. After about 15 minutes, though, we noticed that some of the remaining birders further down the track had picked up a bird and, judging by their concentration, it was probably one or both of the buntings. The birds must have slipped out from the back of the bush and moved on unseen.
We headed over and caught up with them, finding one of the buntings feeding along the base of the wire fence, below and to the left of a group of conifers. It started to come a little more into the open, and I was getting ready for a photograph when it suddenly flew up into the conifers and disappeared once again.
Steve and I continued chatting, and he mentioned that he was tempted to head for Dale, where a buff-breasted sandpiper had been reported earlier that morning - another two hours further into Wales. Eventually he succumbed to the temptation, said his goodbyes and set off, planning to grab a quick lunch on the way. He later posted that the sandpiper had been a no-show and that his unsuccessful detour had resulted in an impromptu hotel stop. As far as I could see, the bird wasn't reported again that day or the next.
Steve is absolutely smashing it this year and is already up to 297 species, so I'm sure there are plenty more to come.
I stayed for another half hour or so, but eventually I had to call it a day and make my way home, with an evening out planned and preparations to make.
Year list: 286.
