Wyre Forest, Bedfordshire, & Rutland Water :: 09 & 12 May 2026

On a recent visit to the Wyre Forest, Kev @kev07713 and I failed to find either wood warbler or dipper, so today we decided to return after seeing that Miles Cluff @miles_cluff had reported seeing one there - birds now returning? Miles posted on X that he had “seen some very bold wood warblers in my time, but this one takes the cake - no fear whatsoever.”

On arrival, we decided not to head straight for our usual car park. Instead, we dropped down the slope to the bridge over Dowles Brook to see if we could finally connect with a dipper. Frustratingly, we’d never previously missed this species here, but this year they seem to have become much harder to see - not just for us, but for all the birders we’ve spoken to.

We pulled the car into a lay-by off the lane and settled ourselves on the edge of the bridge after confirming there wasn’t currently a bird showing. As we sat chatting and listening to the surrounding birdsong, we considered moving on several times but decided to wait a little longer. After almost half an hour, a bird suddenly appeared, flying low down the brook before passing directly over us and continuing upstream to the deeper section beyond the bridge - a dipper. The view was brief, but very satisfying.

With the dipper finally seen, we returned to the car and headed for the main car park to continue our search for a wood warbler. We wandered out through parts of the forest we don’t usually explore before looping back past the car park and onto tracks running through the woods parallel to the main route, all the while listening out for the distinctive call of a wood warbler.

Above we could hear the call of common redstart and from time to time we would be able to pick them out, usually perched high in the tree canopy. Anecdotally, quite a few birders seem to be reporting good numbers in traditional woodland areas, especially in Wales, here in the Wyre Forest, and parts of the New Forest. The warm, settled periods in April appear to have helped migrants move through quickly and establish territories early. That said, common redstart remains an amber-listed species in the UK, and long-term breeding trends are still mixed depending on region.

As we made our way along the tracks, we saw several pairs of roe deer. With the forest lush there is a lot of available food, but the deer are also more active and visible because does are heavily pregnant and bucks are establishing and defending territories. Roe bucks become increasingly territorial from spring onwards. They typically give birth from mid-May through June in the UK, with most fawns born in late May and early June - the timing is quite precise because roe deer have a delayed implantation process: mating takes place in summer (usually July–August), but the fertilised egg does not begin developing until winter. This allows births to coincide with peak spring vegetation and food availability.

We came across pairs of blackcaps, goldcrest, and then saw garden warblers chasing through the dense bushes off to our right but a distance. Garden warblers usually arrive from Africa in late April and are in full song through May and early June while establishing breeding territories. Unlike blackcaps, garden warblers tend to stay hidden in thicker vegetation, often in bramble patches, young woodland, willow scrub, or dense scrub near woodland edges. You often hear them long before you see them but by June, they often become much quieter and harder to locate.

Garden warblers are famously understated visually. Compared with something like a common redstart or wood warbler, they can look rather plain at first glance: mostly warm brown above and pale buff-grey below, with very few obvious markings. But many birders are fond of them because the song is so rich and beautiful compared with the bird’s rather modest appearance - much like nightingales, I think.

Still unable to locate our target bird we dropped down to one of the main tracks and made our way past the premises of "Peter the Bee and Friends". This is a dedicated nursery working to protect local pollinators by growing native, peat-free, insecticide-free wildflowers. The initiative helps reverse the decline of bees, moths, and beetles in the Wyre Forest area by encouraging wildlife gardening and supporting pollinator habitats. Their vision is that everyone should have a few wildflowers in their gardens even if it's just a balcony or a window box and believe that even small actions by many people will make a positive difference - how right they are.

As we passed the brick building, the call of a pied flycatcher caught our attention as it flitted around the lower branches of several large trees. At first, it stubbornly refused to perch in the open, remaining partially obscured by the branches, but eventually it landed in a much better position and we both managed to snap off a few photos before it disappeared into the trees beyond. We were also impressed by the number of bird and owl boxes mounted on the surrounding trees throughout this area.

We eventually rejoined the main path and headed back towards the gully where we had seen the tawny owl on our previous visit, still without any sign or sound of a wood warbler. As we reached the slope, we could hear and then see a common redstart perched in a tree just above the bench, while a few tree pipits were calling further beyond.

We decided to drop down towards the brook and listen along the bank there, but before we had gone very far the call of a lesser spotted woodpecker stopped us in our tracks. The call gave us a rough idea of where the bird was, but without seeing it we struggled once it fell silent again. We stood listening for several minutes, mainly to the tree pipits, while also watching two jays working their way along the slope down towards the brook - probably Kev’s favourite moment of the day.

Then came the call again. I looked up and managed to pick out the lesser spotted woodpecker on the branches of a dead tree, working its way around a branch and gradually moving into a better position for viewing. I pointed it out to Kev, but by the time he got onto the bird it dropped down behind a tree in front of us, completely obscuring the view and giving him just a fleeting sighting. We tried to relocate it, but despite our efforts we couldn’t find it again, although we heard it call.

This was the first time either of us had seen a lesser spotted woodpecker in the Wyre Forest, probably because we usually only visit once, or at most twice, during the period when the pied flycatchers, tree pipits, common redstarts, and wood warblers are present.

Along the river we didn't see anything new in the way of birds but did see several butterfly species including pearl-bordered fritillary, holly blue, and orange tips. Orange-tip butterflies seem to be restless and often seem unwilling to settle for more than a second or two, especially the males. In spring they appear to spend a huge amount of time patrolling along hedgerows, woodland edges, rides and damp meadows searching for females, which makes them appear constantly on the move. I think this was my first opportunity to take a photo of one this year.

Despite further searching, we were still unable to locate a wood warbler. We bumped into Mike @dogdoughty, who we regularly seem to encounter out birding, and he confirmed that he too had failed to find one. It certainly seems to be a poor year for them here. We slowly made our way back to the car and set off for home.

Kev was helping his brother with some work again on Monday, but Tuesday promised a much better forecast, although reports suggested that many of the birds we might have gone to see had already moved on. Instead, we decided to head across into Bedfordshire to look for turtle doves at a site we’ve visited over the last couple of years, following the disappearance of this species from RSPB Otmoor. We set off at a leisurely hour, though still before most people would have been sitting down to breakfast. It wasn’t too far to travel, and we would be on site before most people had even started work for the day.

We arrived, parked the car, and walked towards the spot where we’d enjoyed our best views on previous visits, listening as we approached for the distinctive call of a turtle dove - one of the most evocative sounds of late spring and summer, a soft, gentle purring.

We began scanning the hedgerows and surrounding trees and, as I followed a dove in the distance that was probably a collared dove, Kev suddenly spotted a bird dropping into the hedge nearby. Walking round carefully for a better angle, he quickly confirmed that it was indeed a turtle dove, and moments later it began calling briefly from the top of the hedge.

We positioned ourselves for a few photographs before stepping back to give the bird some space so we could simply stand and watch it. By now the area was becoming busier, with people returning after the school run, dog walkers appearing along the paths, and a few runners passing through. Eventually the turtle dove seemed to decide the activity had become a little too close for comfort and flew off strongly, disappearing into the distance and, we suspected, travelling quite some way from where we stood.

The turtle dove is now one of the UK’s most rapidly declining and threatened breeding birds. Once a familiar summer visitor, it has suffered a catastrophic decline over recent decades, including at our local site in Oxfordshire. Since the 1970s, the UK breeding population has fallen by more than 95%, and the species is now largely confined to parts of southern and eastern England, meaning that you increasingly must travel to specific sites if you want to connect with them.

We waited in the hope that the bird might return, or that we might encounter another, as we had heard that two had been seen at the site within the last week. We followed a narrow brook running between two hedgerows, hoping to pick up the birds along this stretch, but saw little other than woodpigeons until a little egret dropped into the hedge ahead.

We edged closer, but it appeared quite content to remain where it was, basking in the sun. Eventually it moved on, flying further down the brook before dropping into the water and reeds below.

We walked around to the far side of the hedge and onto a path running parallel with the brook, where we heard a cuckoo calling off to our left. Kev headed off to the right and disappeared into the distance, but before he returned, I’d managed a couple of views of the cuckoo - first as it shifted position in flight, and then perched on a spindly branch, its call giving it away.

Although slightly distant and seen against the sky, it was probably my longest view of the year, and perhaps only surpassed by the excellent flyover sighting at Pig Bush in Hampshire.

We returned to our original position and waited a while longer, kept entertained by a showy whitethroat, a cuckoo, and a calling Cetti’s warbler. In the end, we decided we might be in for a long wait; we’d heard that some birders had spent up to three hours there without a sighting and left empty-handed recently. With that in mind, and hoping to make other plans for the day, we decided to move on.

We checked BirdGuides and found nothing of note locally, so decided to head over to Rutland Water in the hope of seeing some ospreys. We often visit Eyebrook Reservoir to watch them fishing, but it is still early in the season, and the males are not yet under pressure to provide food for chicks, so visits tend to be more irregular at this time of year.

We drove to the Lyndon Visitor Centre, where we were given an update on the ospreys, along with news that a white stork had been moving between Manton Bay and the North Arm. It had apparently been on site for 12 days, though we hadn’t seen any previous mention of it. We then set out along the trail between the centre and Waderscrape hide. The first hide, Deep Water, produced little activity on the water, but at Tufted Duck Hide we found around eight people already in position.

We were told the white stork was on the opposite bank, though mostly obscured by reeds and long grass. We managed brief views of it and waited in case it showed more clearly. The bird had been seen well at times and was noted to carry a blue darvic ring; it is believed to have come from from one of the reintroduction projects in the UK. Eventually the bird walked out from the reeds, but at over 500m there was only ever going to be a record shot.

Just as the stork was walking along the shoreline, a female mandarin duck appeared in front of the hide with what we think was close to ten chicks hurrying around her. It caught us slightly off guard and we largely missed the chance to photograph the young birds, though we did get more prolonged views of the adult.

Mandarin duck is now a well-established breeding species in the UK, having originally been introduced from East Asia. Rutland Water is in fact one of the more reliable places in the country to encounter breeding birds, even if the species still looks rather exotic in appearance.

The downy chicks of mandarin duck look quite similar to those of mallard at a glance: small, mottled brown, and well adapted for camouflage along water margins. That general “cryptic brown fluff” pattern is common across many dabbling duck species. I’ve read that mandarin ducklings can sometimes show a slightly cleaner, more contrasting facial pattern than the more uniformly streaked mallard chicks and may appear a little darker and more sharply patterned overall, though this is quite variable. Without the female shepherding them around, they could very easily be overlooked.

We then made our way to Waderscrape Hide, which was much busier and offered wider windows looking across the bay. The resident female, known as Maya, has nested at Manton Bay since 2009 and is the most successful breeding female on the Rutland Water Nature Reserve. The resident male, known as 33 (after his leg ring identity), hatched at a nearby Rutland nest in 2011 and became Maya’s permanent partner in 2015.

As we entered the hide, two volunteers came over and pointed out the nest and the male’s perch. We set up our scopes and enjoyed good views of both birds. The male remained perched throughout our visit but rather distant and could well be a bird we might also encounter at Eyebrook Reservoir. While it’s always good to see them at all, it is far more rewarding to watch them in flight and fishing, so hopefully we might connect with one more closely later in the year.

I had an appointment at teatime, so we eventually packed up and headed home to give me time for a shower and dinner before heading out again. Hopefully it won’t be too long before we’re out again.

Year list: 250.

Ayrshire Coast :: 21-25 April 2025

With Easter upon us, we made our Easter Monday journey north to visit family in Scotland, settling in Seamill, conveniently close to Mum and my youngest brother. Remarkably, the forecast promised a full week of fair weather, offering the perfect opportunity to squeeze in some early morning birding before breakfast each day.

On the first morning, I set out just before sunrise, heading for Bogside Flats. I'd missed grasshopper warblers in both Oxfordshire and Northamptonshire in recent weeks, but I knew a breeding population could be found here, just off the Irvine Golf Course. Grasshopper warblers are elusive summer visitors to Scotland, arriving from Africa to breed between April and August. Their presence is most often detected by their distinctive, insect-like reeling song, which can be heard at dawn, dusk, and even sometimes throughout the night.

On arrival, both male and female grasshopper warblers commence nest-building close to the ground, using materials like grass, sedge, and moss. Egg-laying typically occurs from mid-May to early July, with clutches of 3–7 eggs. Both parents share incubation duties for 12–15 days, and the chicks fledge approximately 12–13 days after hatching. It's common for them to raise two broods within the breeding season.

They favour habitats with dense vegetation, such as reedbeds, rough grasslands, scrub areas, and young plantations. In Scotland, they are more frequently found in the western regions, however, their numbers have declined significantly in recent decades, leading to their classification as a Red List species in the UK.

I parked at the golf club and followed the public footpath down to the edge of the reedbeds, where I immediately heard two grasshopper warblers reeling. One was tucked away in the grassland, low in sparse cover with no obvious perch in sight, so I focused on the bird off to my left. There was more structure for it to reel from there, and I began scanning carefully while it sang, but I just couldn’t spot it.

Eventually, I got lucky: the bird flew into a patch of grass, giving me my first sighting of the trip - tick!, though I didn't manage a photo. I waited for it to start reeling again, hoping for a better view, but it remained elusive. I decided to follow the path that runs alongside the fence bordering the golf course, to a spot that’s given me good views in the past.

Further along, I came across two more grasshopper warblers reeling inside the fence, among the gorse. Again, no luck with a photo, but I was accompanied by a chorus of skylarks and willow warblers as I walked. Reaching a corner where I’ve previously had great views, I found yet another bird in full song, this time joined by a calling sedge warbler.

After a couple of minutes, I managed to spot the grasshopper warbler tucked into the back of a shrub along the hedgerow. I grabbed a few photos before it dropped into some brambles, pausing in full view just long enough for a shot. When it started reeling again, I found it more easily, this time perched more visibly if I was willing to balance myself on the slope of the mound for a better look. Success! This spot comes through once again. Even further left a sixth bird reeled.

On the walk back, I kept an ear out for anything notable and saw a whooper swan out in a pool, and a stonechat perched.

Pleased with the views and with no other obvious targets around, I jumped in the car and made for Saltcoats - I'd missed out on black guillemots during my January visit, so this seemed like a good chance to catch up with them.

I arrived in Saltcoats with fingers crossed, hoping to finally connect with some Black Guillemots. I'd drawn a blank during my January visit, so this felt like a good opportunity with the calm weather on my side.

I made my way along the seafront, scanning the harbour and rocky shoreline. It didn’t take long - just off the breakwater, I picked out the distinctive black-and-white plumage of a pair bobbing on the water, their red legs flashing as they paddled about. Classic black guillemots. Two became four, then four became twelve. Unlike most auk species, they breed in small loose colonies rather than huge cliffs and are common around harbours and man-made structures such as the walls of this harbour - they are confiding in the harbour, allowing for close views. I took some photos and moved onto the rocky stretch outside Oscar's cafe where a few waders usually hang out.

As I approached, a couple of dozen turnstones were busy feeding in the dried seaweed, occasionally shifting down toward the water’s edge. While scanning through them, I spotted a purple Sandpiper emerging from the rocks, soon joined by a second - they both worked their way along the shoreline to the left. This spot is a reliable one for them - purple sandpipers are tough, coastal waders that spend the winter along rocky UK shores. The Ayrshire coast, including Saltcoats, Troon, and Girvan, are well-known hotspots for these hardy birds.

I made it back to the car and made a last scan of the water and picked out two very distant red-throated divers through my scope, then a single black-throated.

My time birding had come to an end for the day as I had to get back to the hotel for a shower, breakfast, a walk on Seamill Beach with Charlotte where I came across three purple sandpipers, lunch with mum, and then travel to Croy to see my brother's new house.

Birding Day 2 arrived, and I decided to visit Stevenston Point, again leaving early and arriving soon after sunrise. The Point's position along the Firth of Clyde makes it an excellent location for observing seabirds and waders with regular sightings including gannets, Manx shearwaters, and occasional skuas - but not the last two today. The rocky shoreline and adjacent sandy beaches attract waders such as purple sandpipers, turnstones, ringed plovers, dunlin, and oystercatchers. The area is also known for eiders. My main target were sanderlings as I had missed them on my last visit - they are usually regular here and I've had flocks of more than a hundred on occasions.

I began by scanning the water, and before long, I picked out a red-throated diver at a reasonable distance offshore. It had already developed much of its summer plumage and looked striking against the sea. In breeding condition, these birds are far more elegant than their drab winter appearance suggests. The deep red throat patch, set against a soft grey neck, is the defining feature, earning the species its name. Its slender bill, often held slightly upward, is another classic ID feature, and in the right light, its red eyes shine clearly.

I continued to scan hoping to find my target birds - sanderling - I continued to see birds out on/over the water; a pair of eiders flew through, red-breasted mergansers, more red-throated divers, gannets, razorbills, and more - but no sanderling.

On the rocks there was also some interest with dunlin, ringed plovers, purple sandpipers, and rock pipits.

Eventually, I spotted a sizable flock of sanderling gathered on the beach south of the Point. I began to work my way around to approach them, aiming to drop down for a better view. Unfortunately, before I could get close, the birds flushed, disturbed by a few large gulls landing nearby, and took off in a flurry of wings. I managed a couple of record shots of them in flight as they wheeled away, only to see them settle further up the beach in a more awkward-to-reach bay.

Undeterred, I looped back to see if I could get closer, snapping a few photos as I went. Predictably, they were soon up again, this time moving back down the beach in my direction and past. Really? I followed once more, and at last, they stayed put just long enough for a few closer shots, but not for much longer than that.

Deciding I'd had good enough views, and that they clearly weren't in the mood to cooperate, I called it a day and made my way back to the Point.

On the way back I came across a chap in a high-vis vest cycling along the path - he was being followed by a drone ... presumably his! Cyclists are apparently increasingly using drones equipped with "Follow Me" or "ActiveTrack" modes to capture dynamic footage of their rides. These drones autonomously track and film the rider, allowing for hands-free operation and video content generation. Regardless, it was a very strange sight!

I then came across a couple of stonechats that seemed to be active in provisioning nests.

Back on the Point I finished by watching a gannet make multiple dives off the pier structure and I decided to photograph it as it plunged into the sea. Out to the left at distance were three more red-throated divers.

With the morning getting on, I jumped back into the car and headed to the hotel for a well-earned breakfast. Although I ventured out for another walk afterwards, I didn’t manage to add any new sightings.

The following morning, I decided to return to Stevenston Point for another scan of the water. It wasn’t long before a single sandwich tern flew past, a welcome year tick, though it remained frustratingly distant in the early light. Shifting my attention north along the coast, I was pleasantly surprised to spot an otter swimming in the small bay to my right. It dived repeatedly, providing a few minutes of great entertainment. Thanks to my impeccable fieldcraft, as you’ll see in the photos, the otter remained completely unaware of my presence. Otters are known to inhabit the Ayrshire coastline, and while they are generally elusive and more active during nighttime, there are reasonably regular daytime sightings posted on the Ayrshire Wildlife Facebook page.

I began scanning the water and soon picked out distant red-throated divers, along with gulls and gannets actively feeding offshore. Later in the morning, razorbills and guillemots would also make an appearance. A group of three red-breasted mergansers flew past, followed by a lone bird and then a pair of eiders, with more seen feeding further north along the Point.

In the distance to the south, I spotted a small group of ducks and waited as they gradually moved closer, close enough for a record shot. They turned out to be common scoter. At first, I thought they might be my first of the year but then recalled a lone bird I'd seen associating with a surf scoter in South Devon during a visit for Cirl bunting.

I spotted a group of sanderlings on the beach to the north, but they were being repeatedly flushed by a few dog walkers and never seemed to settle, circling out to sea before returning even farther from my position. With little chance of a closer view, I headed back to the hotel for breakfast.

The following morning, I skipped birding entirely, knowing I had a long drive home ahead and would need the rest, especially with an early start planned the next day for a birding trip with Kev. It wasn’t until later, when Charlotte and I went out for a walk, that I saw any birdlife at all.

As always along that stretch of coast, there are good numbers of curlews, some flying low along the water’s edge, others feeding among the rocks. One, however, gave us a lovely moment as it flew in and landed gracefully on a patch of grass between us and the shoreline.

As we walked further, we were serenaded by a willow warbler singing from somewhere in the bushes at the edge of the houses. Soon after, we came across a very showy sedge warbler - we’d heard one earlier but not seen it. This individual was particularly bold, perched proudly atop a bush and singing with gusto, occasionally darting off before returning to the same spot to continue its display.

From there, it was a short drop down onto the sand. As we reached the beach, Charlotte mentioned she'd seen an interesting bird, though it had been flushed by a couple sitting on some rocks nearby. We found a spot to sit, and before long, a female wheatear appeared on the sand - “That’s the one,” Charlotte confirmed. I stood and managed to get a few photos before it flew farther along the beach. As I followed, I passed the bird, now busy catching flies. When I looked back, I was pleased to see the male had also appeared. Eventually, I returned to Charlotte, and we watched the male feeding from the same rocks the couple had previously occupied.

While Charlotte continued a little farther along the beach, I waited and took in the view. When she returned, we began making our way back toward the village shops to pick up a few provisions. On the walk back, my attention was suddenly caught by a bird flying low over the water, heading north, a red-throated diver. I don’t recall seeing many of these along this stretch of coastline, so it was a nice surprise.

Almost back at the hotel, we paused for one final look out to sea and were treated to the cheerful song of a common whitethroat nearby. It gave us a lovely send-off as it sang from the bushes. I managed to grab a few photos before we packed up and made our way off.

It is great to have an opportunity to do a bit of birding without it impacting the rest of the day, the light rising so early now. Some nice birds and a great time with the family.