Linch Hill Pit 18 & Farmoor Reservoir :: 09 February 2026

With Charlotte away playing pickleball and Kev still busy fitting windows for family, I found myself with some free time and decided to explore the Lower Windrush Valley Gravel Pit Complex, starting at Rushy Common Nature Reserve and Tar Lakes, where pintails, two red‑crested pochards, and an oystercatcher had been reported the day before.

Rushy Common Nature Reserve lies in the Lower Windrush Valley, just southeast of Witney, off Cogges Lane between Cogges and Stanton Harcourt in West Oxfordshire. Nestled among a cluster of restored gravel pits, the reserve has been transformed into a rich wetland habitat through coordinated conservation efforts. Originally part of Gill Mill Quarry, the site was reshaped from industrial extraction land into a thriving nature reserve through a long-term restoration project led by the Lower Windrush Valley Project and its partners. From the reserve car park, permissive and public footpaths loop around the site, including routes that lead towards Tar Lakes and further into the Windrush Valley path network.

Parking at Rushy Common is free but limited to around 20 vehicles and on arrival, there were three cars - a chap was just packing up as I pulled in. Since it was my first visit, I located the direction of the bird hide, retrieved my hide key from my bag, and set off, pausing along the way to scan the water. The water was alive with activity: a grey heron, pintails, wigeon, teal, great crested grebes, coot, shoveler, Canada geese, and more.

Eventually, I reached a bend in the track and discovered that the usual puddles had expanded into a completely flooded stretch. Having chosen walking boots over wellies, there was no way I could continue to the hide - what a shame. I turned back and headed to the viewing screen in the opposite direction, from where I could scan the water and re‑spot all the species I had seen from the track, and still no red-crested pochards.

I had also planned on visiting Linch Hill Pit 18 (also known as Stoneacres Lake, particularly by the fishermen) to try and catch the two smew (drake and redhead) that had been present since 2 February. It wasn’t far from my location, but getting there required driving around the perimeter of the pit complex and through Stanton Harcourt. Observations of the smew are made from outside the site perimeter fence and through tree cover, so seeing the birds up close would not be possible. The northern roadside is fenced and where viewing was recommended to me, and if needed, a footpath runs about a third of the way down the eastern side, providing scope views of the pit.

The complex isn’t generally developed as a public nature reserve like Rushy Common and Tar Lakes, and the surrounding landscape has been shaped by decades of gravel extraction and subsequent natural colonisation and restoration. This pit is one of the larger and deeper gravel lakes in the area, with extensive open water that attracts a wide range of waterbirds and has developed a mix of aquatic vegetation, shallows and fringe habitats.

I parked in a layby, careful not to block one of the designated passing places along this stretch of the single-track road and stepped out to scan through the fence and trees. Setting up my scope, I immediately picked out the drake smew, then the redhead. I had to shift slightly to maintain a clear view, and that’s when I noticed at least four red‑crested pochards in the same area. They drifted to the right and out of sight from my initial position, so I moved further along the road to a more open gap in the hedges, and from there I was able to relocate and enjoy views of all the birds again.

The male smew is mostly white with bold black markings, and the head is pure white with a striking black mask through the eye and down the nape - the back and wings are patterned with black. It is small and compact, and highly conspicuous on this open water. In contrast the female has a grey body with a chestnut-red head and subtle white cheek patch, and although more muted than the male, is still elegant.

The birds were frustratingly distant, but their presence more than made up for the distance. Eventually, the smew that had been diving along the opposite bank took flight, flying back toward the area where I had first spotted them. I relocated once more, but the birds were frustratingly difficult to pick out through the tangle of branches and twigs. Still, I’d enjoyed the encounter and especially the bonus red-crested pochards, a species I don’t often stumble across naturally during the year.

I set off for home but then realised that Farmoor Reservoir lay more or less on the way. With that in mind, I decided to drop in and see if I could track down the common scoter I’d missed on a previous visit, after a paddleboarder had reportedly flushed it, along with several other birds, from the water.

I parked up and walked out onto the causeway between F1 and F2, focussing on F1 where most recent sightings had been reported and where disturbance tends to be lower. I began scoping the reservoir and, after a bit of patience, eventually picked up the scoter among a group of mostly sleeping great crested grebes, almost directly opposite my position.

I packed up the scope and set off to try for closer views and along the way, I stopped to watch a female greater scaup cruising along the edge of F1 in the company of tufted ducks.

I set up my scope, having closed the distance, but I could no longer locate the bird among the grebes. Had it moved out into the centre of the water? Despite scanning carefully, I still couldn’t pick it up.

I continued around the reservoir and eventually reached the area where the great crested grebes were sleeping or preening, and began scanning again. After a couple of careful passes, I picked it up once more, often diving and disappeared for long periods before resurfacing some distance away - a habit that made keeping track of it tricky.

At range, the bird appeared dark and very low-slung on the water, lacking the bold features of an adult drake but showing well enough to confirm it as an immature common scoter. It sat exceptionally low, giving a heavy, almost submerged appearance that was accentuated by the choppy conditions. The overall plumage was a uniform brown, without the jet-black tones or strong structure of a mature male.

The head was noticeably paler than the body, with lighter cheeks and face standing out subtly against the darker crown and nape. The bill was dull greyish-brown and relatively slim, showing little of the swollen orange-and-yellow knob characteristic of an adult male. In profile, the head shape appeared gently rounded, with a fairly flat crown flowing smoothly into the neck.

That was satisfying ... I’d managed to redeem myself and finally catch up with a bird that had been reported regularly but had so far eluded me. It had been a good day out, even if it was a little less enjoyable flying solo. No doubt Kev and I will have our diaries aligned again before long.

Year list: 159.

Foryd Bay & Colwyn Bay :: 21 December 2025

On 8 December, a bufflehead was discovered at Point of Ayr, Flintshire, where it stayed for several hours before flying off. Hopes were high that it might reappear locally, but with no further reports, most observers assumed the bird had moved on for good. However, it was refound on 19 December at Foryd Bay, Caernarfon, where it showed extremely well and gave excellent views.

A close relative of goldeneye, though much smaller, the bufflehead is instantly recognisable by the large white patch on the back of the head - it is a very rare visitor to the UK from North America. Although buffleheads are hunted and classified as a gamebird, their overall population has remained relatively stable, in contrast to the declines seen in many other sea duck species in recent decades.

Buffleheads are migratory, wintering mainly in sheltered coastal waters and open inland lakes along the east and west coasts of North America and across the southern United States, with additional wintering birds on the Great Lakes. They are among the last waterfowl to leave their breeding grounds and arrive on their wintering areas within a narrow time window - late October and November are the most likely arrival times both in the Americas and here in the UK.

The first documented British record was on Tresco, Isles of Scilly in 1920, and assuming all 2025 records are accepted (currently provisional), this individual would (I think) represent the 24th UK record.

While some UK occurrences are thought to involve genuine transatlantic vagrants, others may relate to escapes from captivity, as the species is frequently kept in wildfowl collections. Consequently, each record is scrutinised carefully; as with many wildfowl species, questions over origin are common. The BBRC requires clear views of the legs showing no rings before a record can be considered/accepted.

I was working in Sheffield on Thursday and Friday and had a social event to attend on Saturday, so Kev @kev07713 and I came up with a plan to set off early on Sunday morning and drive to North Wales in the hope of catching up with the bird. I wasn’t going to be driving, as I’d be turning in late and had also enjoyed a few! drinks over the course of the evening. In the end I got to bed around midnight and was back on the road with Kev by 5.00am, stopping for breakfast on the way and were astonished by how dark it still was at 8.00am.

We arrived at the end of the lane by Morfa Lodge Holiday Park, then followed the coastal path south along the western side of Foryd Bay, viewing from the embankment. I remembered that some friends were staying at a Banbury hotel after the previous night's social and that they had arranged to meet for breakfast at 9.00am. I sent them a WhatsApp message, showing them where I was and wishing them a great start to the day.

We made our way to the estuary wall and could see a small group of birders standing on the causeway between a pool and the estuary. An update just 45 minutes earlier had reported that the bird was still present, so we were hopeful they were watching it. As we approached, we spotted a duck on the water and paused to check it carefully through our binoculars, keen to confirm we had the right bird before moving any closer - our recent experience of watching a penduline tit lift off and depart as birders approached still fresh in our minds. Lifer! Reassured, we joined the group and watched as the bird dived repeatedly, surfacing for just 10–15 seconds at a time. At the other end of the group was Trevor Ellery @ElleryTrev16932 - Kev spent a bit of time catching up with him, between taking videos and photos.

Owing to their small size and high metabolism, buffleheads are highly energetic birds, spending much of their time diving almost continuously in search of food. In the early light the head showed little iridescence, revealing only fleeting flashes of green.

The bufflehead was especially striking, the adult male’s head shimmering with iridescence that shifted dramatically with the light and viewing angle. The head was far from plain black; in good light it flashed deep green, emerald, purple and blue-violet tones. This sheen framed the male’s large, white, fan-shaped head patch, making the contrast appear even more vivid.

We watched and recorded the bird’s energetic activity as the group of observers steadily grew. Eventually we were joined by Graham Jepson @GrahamJepson1, a well-known birder and photographer, who set up his equipment and began capturing what will no doubt be some of the best images of this bird. We had a chat as it had been some time since we bumped into him last.

After a prolonged period of feeding, the bufflehead eventually settled down to sleep, its head tucked into the feathers along its back. Even then it remained alert, eyes open, and it wasn’t long before it was fully awake again and back to diving, roused by an alarm call from elsewhere in the bay.

Eventually the bird began feeding further to our right, weaving through the reeds and small islands. Now much closer, it showed the iridescent head colours more clearly, the sheen spreading across the crown as well.

The bay was alive with birds: Canada, greylag and brent geese, along with wigeon, teal, pintail, a variety of gulls, great crested and little grebes, and even a male greater scaup among them. Overhead, two peregrines interacted, while three ravens cronked loudly as they tumbled back and forth. The surrounding fields looked promising for merlin and owls, though none were seen. As we began to depart, we watched rock and meadow pipits and a couple of skylarks feeding along the water’s edge. A water pipit was called by someone nearby, but it was too distant for me to make an identification in flight before it dropped to the ground.

It was time to pack up, so Kev and I made our way back to the car, scanning the fields and fence posts as we went - it really is a superb area. We chatted briefly with a couple out walking their dog, who asked what everyone was doing there, gesturing towards the line of cars parked along the verge. Kev replied that we’d come to see them ... and a rare duck on the reserve. That tickled them.

Within the grounds of Caernarfon Airport, flocks of lapwings and corvids were feeding, but the only truly unusual flying object was a bright red whirlybird. Those of a certain age might remember the TV series 'Whirlybirds', which followed a helicopter charter business in California. First airing between 1957 and 1960, when helicopters were still a novelty, it was later repeated on UK television I think on Saturday mornings for children throughout the 1960s and early 1970s.

We decided to head on to Colwyn Bay for some sea-watching. A surf scoter had been reported there the previous day, a species we hadn’t yet seen this year. Kev had dropped a pin on Google Maps, and once we arrived, we began scanning the bay from the promenade. There were good numbers of cormorants and shags, and soon we picked up a great northern diver far offshore. Away to our right a line of common scoters was visible, which seemed the most likely place for the surf scoter, so we relocated to a spot near a café overlooking the bay.

As we approached, a couple of people in swimsuits walked purposefully across the sand towards the sea, prompting the thought that some sort of intervention might be required - a suicide pact? They weren’t in the water for long before retreating and jumping into the Casgen Sawna, the wood-fired barrel sauna often stationed at Porth Eirias, even at this time of year. Apparently, people actually pay for this kind of torture!

We reached the edge of the playground on the point and on the rocks and sand in front, the tide now retreating, were turnstones and a lone oystercatcher.

We resumed our sea-watch and located the flocks of common scoters, but despite working through them repeatedly we couldn’t pick out a surf scoter. It wouldn’t have been the first time the bird had gone AWOL, and it was likely still out there somewhere; reports suggested it had been coming in reasonably close, and we weren’t long past high tide.

As we continued scanning, we refound the great northern diver along with a few red-throated divers, though all were distant and really only visible through the scope.

We took advantage of the café and toilets in the Bryn Williams restaurant area before returning to the sea-watch. Another birder soon joined us, also searching for the target species, which at least confirmed we were in the right place. Despite our efforts, however, we couldn’t add the bird to either our day or year list.

Eventually it was time to start the journey home. The traffic was kind, but it was still a long shift behind the wheel for Kev.

Year list: 251.