RSPB Snettisham :: 02 August 2025

Looking at our options, Kev @kev07713 and I quickly agreed that the best plan was to head east towards the Norfolk coast and spend the day at RSPB Snettisham. The reserve had been attracting a fair bit of attention recently thanks to several interesting waders being reported, including pectoral sandpiper, white-rumped sandpiper, and curlew sandpiper. Of the three, the white-rumped was always going to be more of a gamble as sightings had tailed off for a day or two, which usually means it had either moved further along the coast or was feeding out of sight somewhere on the vast mudflats. Still, birding is often about the chase as much as the reward, and we knew that Snettisham always delivers plenty to see, whether or not the rarities put in an appearance.

RSPB Snettisham is a truly spectacular reserve sitting on the edge of The Wash, one of the UK’s most important estuaries for wintering and passage birds. Twice a day, when the tide pushes thousands of waders off the mudflats and into the lagoons, the place comes alive in a way that few reserves can match. Knot, dunlin, oystercatcher, and bar-tailed godwits gather in vast numbers, swirling in dense flocks that seem to shape-shift in unison. It’s a spectacle that has rightly earned the site its reputation as one of the country’s birding highlights, particularly during the famed autumn “whirling wader” events. Unfortunately, the tide would be under 6 meters and too low to have a really spectacular display.

Even without the rarities, the promise of seeing that sheer abundance was enough to make the trip worthwhile. Add to that the possibility of catching up with a scarce American sandpiper or two, and it felt like an opportunity too good to miss. Whether we connected with the target birds or not, we were certain of a memorable day on the marshes.

We pulled into the car park and gathered our gear, ready for the familiar but deceptively long walk out to the reserve. No matter how many times you do it, the stretch always seems further than you remember, though that extra distance often brings its own surprises. Part of me was quietly hoping we might chance upon a turtle dove along the way, as they have been known to linger in this area during summer, their soft purring call such a rare sound now in Britain. Sadly, it wasn’t to be on this occasion.

What we did get, however, was something altogether unexpected. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the elegant white shape of a spoonbill gliding across the sky, following the river course, its long neck outstretched and unmistakable bill catching the light. Before we’d even finished remarking on the sighting, a second bird appeared, this time passing almost directly overhead, close enough for us to admire the details of its slow, deliberate wingbeats. An uplifting start to the day.

As we pressed on, the hedgerows and scrub lining the path were busy with smaller birds. Whitethroats flitted about, pausing briefly on the tops of brambles to deliver their scratchy song, while sedge warblers rattled away unseen in the reedier patches. Here and there, other “little brown jobs” (LBJs) darted from bush to bush, just quick glimpses of movement that keep you scanning and listening in case something more unusual pops up. It was a reminder that at Snettisham, even the approach to the lagoons can be rich with life if you take the time to look and listen.

As we reached the climb up from the edge of the river, our attention was drawn to a pair of terns quartering the river. They moved with that characteristic buoyancy, wings beating steadily as they hovered and then dived sharply into the surface in pursuit of fish. For a moment, I let myself hope that one of them might turn out to be something a little different - perhaps an Arctic tern to add to my year list.

In the end, the clean lines and bright red bills revealed them to be common terns. No disappointment, though - they remain a delight to watch and it’s hard not to admire their precision as they work the shallows. There’s something about terns that always lifts the mood: the way they seem perfectly at home skimming the water’s surface. Even if they weren’t the rarity I’d hoped for, they added another welcome note to the day list.

Looking out towards the sea, our eyes were drawn to a large flock of waders rising and twisting against the grey sky. The whole mass moved as one, a cloud that shifted shape in an instant. At this distance, it was impossible to pick out individual species, but experience told us what we were watching: a swirling mix that would almost certainly include red knot, black-tailed godwits, and dunlin.

These aerial ballets are always spellbinding, and part of the magic lies in knowing that each bird is responding instinctively to the movement of those around it, tiny adjustments creating one vast synchronised display. We paused briefly, even though we knew we’d enjoy closer views once we made it to the sea wall. There, with luck, we’d be able to watch the flocks settle onto the mudflats or be pushed inland by the rising tide, turning distant silhouettes into a varied collection of waders.

Just before we reached the turn leading onto the sea wall, another species caught our attention. A group of Egyptian geese were gathered along the bank that bordered the water, their striking chestnut eye patches and bold plumage standing out against the grey sky reflections of the water. A few more drifted lazily across the surface, paddling in unhurried circles as though entirely at ease.

Though not native, these birds have become a familiar sight in parts of Norfolk and further afield, their numbers steadily increasing over recent years. There’s something slightly exotic about them, with their upright posture and loud, honking calls, a reminder of their origins along the Nile. While they don’t stir the excitement of a rarity, they add a hint of the exotic.

We paused for a moment to chat with a birder stationed off to our right - he confirmed that he’d managed to pick out the pectoral sandpiper earlier from the Rotary Hide. That was encouraging news, exactly what we wanted to hear. A pec would be a new bird for the year, and while it can be a slippery customer, just knowing it had been seen nearby gave us hope.

From the hide, we trained our scopes across the pool, scanning intently for anything out of the ordinary. At first, though, every promising shape resolved itself into yet another dunlin. One, then another, then another - plenty to sift through but none bearing the crisp breast band of our target bird. The couple sharing the hide with us reassured us that we weren’t chasing shadows; they too had seen the pec earlier, first on a distant spit and later working the edge of a nearby island. Encouraged, we continued scanning the flocks with patience and hope.

Meanwhile, movement behind us kept drawing my eyes away from the islands. A large gathering of waders congregated in a large body, made up of black-tailed godwits and red knot, two of the signature species of The Wash, and together they created an extraordinary spectacle. Likely thousands of birds compressed into a tight group - a classic defensive behaviour of waders: safety in numbers, each bird shielded by the mass, confusing potential predators.

A little while later, a couple more birders drifted into the hide to join the search. One of them turned out to be a familiar face - Des, a regular presence along the east coast and someone we’ve bumped into on more than one occasion - at Frampton, Hunstanton amongst others. There’s always a certain camaraderie when birders gather like this: seeing familiar faces.

We continued to work our way steadily through the waders, scoping every dunlin, double-checking every redshank, lingering over anything that seemed slightly out of place. Then, after a spell of silence, Des spoke up. He thought he had it - the pectoral sandpiper - picked out at long range. Even with a scope, the view was distant, but it was enough to be confident.

The bird itself, when you finally lock onto one, is subtle yet distinctive. About the size of a dunlin but a touch longer and slimmer, with neatly scalloped upperparts and, most importantly, a sharp, dark pectoral band across the chest that gives the species its name. This band cuts cleanly into the white belly below, creating a contrast that makes the bird look crisply marked compared with its neighbours.

Pectoral sandpipers breed in the Arctic tundra of North America and Siberia, but every autumn a scattering of them crosses the Atlantic to turn up on our shores, a long-distance migrant blown off course - spotting one is always a thrill.

Even though the view was far from perfect, the knowledge that we had connected with this scarce visitor was satisfying. We watched hoping for a closer look, but content at least that our patience had paid off.

A little nearer to the hide, we picked out a small group of spotted redshanks gathered quietly in the water. Most of them were dozing, bills tucked neatly into their feathers, their reflections rippling faintly on the surface. A few birds stirred now and then to preen, stretching their wings or carefully working their bills through their plumage in slow, deliberate movements.

By this stage in the year, they had mostly slipped back into their winter plumage, the dramatic black-and-white finery of summer giving way to the more subdued, silvery-grey tones that make them easy to confuse at a glance with common redshanks. Still, their slimmer build, longer legs, and the elegant sweep of their needle-fine bills gave them a certain poise, and the occasional flash of white underwing when one shifted position was enough to mark them out. While a handful winter in the UK, most are just passing through on migration.

Before long we left the hide behind and wandered over to one of the benches that offered a broad view across the mudflats, accompanied by Des. From here we could watch the incoming tide slowly swallowing the sandbanks, pushing the waders ever closer. It’s one of the joys of Snettisham - the way the landscape transforms hour by hour, and with it the behaviour of the birds.

Scanning the distant waders, I picked out my first grey plovers of the year. They were far too distant for a photograph, but their bold markings stood out clearly through the scope. Still holding onto their summer plumage, they looked magnificent - black faces and bellies framed by striking white borders, contrasting sharply with the silver-grey of their backs.

Looking back over the hide we saw a raptor being mobbed by terns - it turned out to be a kestrel, although initially we thought it might have been a hobby. We saw at least seven more across on the left side of the estuary.

The tide continued its steady advance, though it soon became clear that the water would never quite reach us where we were stationed. Instead, it would linger frustratingly far out, leaving the birds just beyond the range for any close views. Even so, the shifting waterline had its effect.

As the mudflats gradually disappeared, the waders were forced to move, edging along the shore and every so often the entire flock would lift, bursting into the air as one, wheeling and twisting against the light before settling again.

Even at a distance, the sight of so many birds responding instinctively to the rhythm of the tide was spectacular. The lack of close views didn’t diminish the sense of drama.

We began working our way back along the track, eyes scanning the mudflats and shallow pools for any sign of a curlew sandpiper or a little stint, both of which had been reported in the area recently. At the first of the buildings along the wall, we paused, spotting a few sandwich terns with the more familiar common terns. Among the various gulls resting along the water’s edge were a few Mediterranean gulls mingling with black-headed, herring, great black-backed, and lesser black-backed gulls - plenty to keep the eyes busy.

Then, out in front of us, I caught a flash of movement: a curlew sandpiper, unmistakable with its compact frame and striking, slightly downcurved bill. Before I could get more than a brief look, it slipped quietly into a gully, disappearing from view but not before I got Des and Kev on it. A little later, our persistence was rewarded again when another birder spotted one further out along the shallows, taking advantage of the tide here having advanced a little further. It moved deliberately, probing the wet sand and shallow water with its bill, giving just enough of a view to admire the pale underparts, warmer reddish tones on the back, and the elegant, slightly hunched posture that distinguishes this small wader. Soon enough it vanished again.

From behind us came the soft, familiar purring call of a turtle dove. After a few moments of careful scanning, we finally picked it out perched atop a tall tree. It was distant, but seeing one so clearly was a reminder that these gentle birds are still managing to hold their own here, despite the challenges they face nationally.

Des said he was off home, and it was time for us to do the same. No sign of the white-rumped sandpiper but we had enjoyed a great day and noted at least 66 species.

Year list: 227.

RSPB Frampton Marsh :: 25 August 2024

I phoned and talked with Kev @kev07713 from the car on the way home from Scotland and we decided that the rain in the forecast was sufficient to suggest we should bird on Sunday rather than Saturday. It was a bank holiday weekend and so we both got permission from our respective partners. We agreed to look again but pencilled in that we'd go to RSPB Frampton Marsh as there was a reported Baird's sandpiper, and a bonus pectoral sandpiper that had turned up the day after I visited last time. On the Saturday late afternoon, the Baird's was reported and so we confirmed the plan - it was going to be a clear night, so fingers crossed.

We travelled up and stopped for breakfast at one of our usual spots,making it to Frampton well before the Visitor's Centre opened. The car park was already full of cars, presumably looking to tick the same bird as me - Kev had already had one at Newport/Goldcliff a few weeks before. We made directly for the sea wall and could see groups of birders already in place, one large group to the left and a second to the right. It appeared that no one had yet spotted the bird but with high tide still some time away, (11.10am) the flocks of waders were still to be flushed up onto the freshmarsh - no panic (yet).

That is not to say there were no waders, as small flocks of ringed plover and dunlin were cutting across the scrapes and landing to gradually bolster the birds already returned from the saltmarsh and shore. We opted to turn left and joined those waiting and scanning. We were. all unable to see the bird, largely because it wasn't there. After half an hour or so, an update on Birdguides alerted us to a sighting of the pectoral sandpiper back down the track on the pool behind the Visitor’s Centre. About a quarter of the birders decided it was worth retracing their steps and we all set off to see if we could find the bird - within a couple of minutes, and before we reached the track back off the sea wall, there was a further update that the Baird's had been located by the birders ahead of us and further along the sea wall. We continued along the sea wall to join them.

Baird's sandpipers are rare but regular autumn vagrants to the UK and are primarily a North American species, breeding in the high Arctic and migrating to South America for the winter. However, during migration, individuals occasionally stray off course and end up in UK with most sightings occurring between August and October. It can be challenging to distinguish it from other small waders, like dunlin or the white-rumped sandpiper. It is a small, brownish sandpiper with long wings that extend beyond its tail, and it lacks the prominent wing bars that some other similar species have.

We arrived and the birders around us pointed out the location of our bird, amongst a mixed ringed plover / dunlin flock. It was unfortunately asleep or at least had its beak tucked under its wings but a tick (lifer) nevertheless. It was only a matter of time, and our bird work with a start and walked quickly left (but only a few feet) before going back to sleep. Then the whole flock was flushed by an unseen adversary - a bit skittish.

We scanned and scanned but found it difficult to pick out the bird - a birder further to our left and further along the wall eventually called it and we were all on the move, another 25m along. Before we could get any images, it was off again. The search started over. Eventually the bird was located again and this time stayed long enough for record photos, but asleep and distant.

We worked through the other birds and found a curlew sandpiper and a couple of little stints. One of the birders and his friends were suggesting there was a white-rumped sandpiper, but I think eventually it was agreed that there wasn't.

We made our way back to the Visitor’s Centre for some lunch and to look for the pectoral sandpiper - it hadn't been seen since the report, now over an hour ago. We saw a common sandpiper but not the pec.

After lunch we decided to go back up to the wall again as the Baird's was apparently "showing very well" and not far from the steps onto the sea wall. It had flown out onto the saltmarsh by the time we got there, and there was still no news of the pectoral. Out on the saltmarsh we could see a peregrine sitting on a post, and closer in a whimbrel stalked across the edge of some pools to feed on an abundant supply of invertebrates, presumably stopping off here on its return south to wintering areas in Africa.

With no other action, and no sign of the pectoral sandpiper, we continued along the sea wall and I took some photos of the ruff just to show the difference in plumage from the birds Charlotte and I had seen in previous days. Out over the scrape were some wet patches, not enough to be classed at pools, where redshank, avocet, and a couple of handfuls of spotted redshanks were showing.

We dropped into the East hide and the occupants relayed that they hadn't seen the wood sandpiper reported earlier in the day. A bit of a shift change, and one of the new birders spotted the wood sandpiper dropping in at the very edge of the reeds but now out of view. We waited patiently but it took some time before walking and preening behind a line of short reeds. I took some record shots, but it refused to come out in the open. Eventually it flew to a distant spit and when it returned, it went back in hard against the front reeds again. We waited for a another view but with time marching on, we moved on. Perhaps the pec sandpiper would return to its earlier location.

We walked past the 360 and Reedbed Hides but saw nothing new for the day. The spoonbills were moving around and feeding, rather than continuing with their most recent sleeping pose. Further round we encountered a couple of snipe feeding in the shallows.

We scanned for merlin or peregrine over the car park field but only had kestrel. We packed away and made for home - not such a great day for Kev's list, but I had my lifer. It is all about me!

Year list: 229.

RSPB Frampton Marsh & Newport Wetlands :: 16-17 August 2024

I'd taken the day off to assist in taking and retrieving my wife's car for a service in Northampton. I'd offered a lunch out and managed to swing the lunch to be at RSPB Frampton Marsh, just a 2hr onward journey from Northampton. Having dropped off the car, been delayed by some roadworks on the way, we arrived and opted for an early lunch so as to allow an easy estimate of when we'd need to leave and return to pick up her car.

We set out onto the reserve and stopped to listen for bearded reedlings on the corner of the main track to the sea wall, and the path to the 360 Hide. A reed warbler flew across but there were no calls from any beardies. We pushed on and reached the mound opposite the track down to the 360 Hide, joining a lady on a scope scanning the reed bed. While I'd been waiting for my wife to drop of the keys at the garage, I'd had a look at X and seen that Dawn Erskine @dawn_mission (someone I follow on the platform) had posted they were visiting Frampton today - I was pretty sure that this was her. I went over and introduced myself, and sure enough it was her! - lovely person and we had a short chat - so good to meet people in the flesh rather than only converse on t'internet. She pointed out a bar-headed goose in front of some greylag geese and spoonbills, and mentioned she'd seen two wood sandpipers from the 360 Hide (although very distant and into the sun).

The bar-headed goose is an occasional visitor to the UK, though it is not native to the region. This species is native to Central Asia, where it breeds around high-altitude lakes and migrates over the Himalayas to winter in South Asia. Almost all sightings of bar-headed geese in the UK are usually attributed to escapees from wildfowl collections as they are popular ornamental birds due to their striking appearance.

From the 360 Hide we could see just a few very distant pools of water - the main area was completely bone dry, dry as a bone. Allowing wild pools to naturally dry out and then flood again can be highly beneficial for providing food for wintering wildfowl. This natural cycle creates a dynamic habitat that supports a rich variety of invertebrates, aquatic plants, and seeds, which are vital food sources for birds. The Reserve has a plan …

This cyclical process mimics natural wetland conditions, promoting biodiversity and providing abundant food resources that are crucial for the survival and health of wildfowl during the winter months. Managing wetlands in this way can be an effective conservation strategy to support bird populations but at this moment in time meant that there was bugger all to see. Well, that is not completely true - there were a few teal and mallards in a far pool and as I focussed in, there were the two wood sandpipers, just as advertised. Fortunately, one left the cover of a shallow island and allowed us a better look, but the heat haze and distance made any photograph a record shot at best.

We pushed on to the Reedbed Hide and met up again with Dawn who had just seen a juvenile water rail on the far reed line - she was buzzing as it had been a target since she saw some on the internet recently. We spent a bit longer in this hide but there was nothing of specific note.

We worked around until we were on the sea wall and benefited from the breeze - it was getting quite warm. We passed avocets, redshank, dunlin, ringed plover, lapwing, black-tailed godwits, amongst others, and then bumped into Dawn yet again - she must have thought we were stalking her! Just beyond were three birders watching a single curlew sandpiper - Charlotte jumped on one of the scopes trained on the bird. Again, the heat haze and distance made photography a bit pointless.

Curlew sandpipers are regular visitors at RSPB Frampton Marsh as the reserve is particularly attractive to waders like due to its extensive mudflats, saltmarshes, and freshwater scrapes, which provide ideal feeding and roosting habitats. During migration, they stop over to refuel on their long journeys between their breeding grounds in the Arctic tundra and their wintering sites in Africa. The best time to see curlew sandpipers at RSPB Frampton is typically during the autumn migration (late summer to early autumn), when they pass through the UK in significant numbers.

We spotted a couple of yellow wagtails, curlews, oystercatchers, and more black-tailed godwits, but the scrapes were surprisingly quiet. We walked back to the car park as we had to pick up the car before the service reception closed and had to allow for potential traffic hold-ups on the way. As we approached the car park my eyes were drawn to what initially appeared to be a flying grey heron, but the shape didn't sit well. On inspection it turned out to be a common crane, again distant and through heat haze. To our right and on the water beyond the Visitor's Centre the number of black-tailed godwits could be seen to be increasing - soon there will be thousands.

With nothing local, Kev and I thought to head for Goldcliff Pools, the sea wall and RSPB Newport Wetlands on the Saturday morning, hoping that something of interest might drop in. It was windy and after a breakfast in Newport we made for the sea wall first, along the stretch where the Baird's sandpiper had been a couple of weeks earlier - not that I'd managed to find an opportunity to visit and tick it. In fact, the wind seemed to be blowing a bit less here and we watched as flocks of ringed plovers and dunlin worked along the shore with flyby curlews.

The odd turnstone appeared too on the shore and hirundines gathered in the fields behind. After a while we decided that there was nothing more to add and made for the main RSPB Newport Wetlands Centre and parked up. We entered the reserve and walked past the Visitor's Centre as they hadn't yet opened for coffee. We stopped and watched a couple of reed warblers still provisioning some youngsters, and a particularly yellow willow warbler. We made for the main reed beds and spotted some large dragonflies on the way, including this Southern hawker which landed on the edge of the track.

We walked through the reed bed hoping that we might come across a bearded reedling but didn't hear a peep or see one in flight - their movement is often undulating, with brief glides between bursts of flapping. Their flight calls, a characteristic "pinging" sound, can be heard as they move through the reeds. No such luck in connecting today. There were more hirundines, dominated by swallows that occasionally landed on perches out in the scrub. A couple of stonechats entertained, hovering for a considerable time but at large distance. Out on the shore we could see some gulls with one of the dark birds seeming to be harassing the others, much as a skua would - Kev had some views that were hopeful, but I never had a view that would be definitive.

We had a nice walk around but eventually worked back to the Visitor's Centre for lunch, sitting outside on the deck. We were watching handfuls of moorhens when I picked out a juvenile water rail at the far end of the pool. It was initially in amongst the reeds but eventually showed a little in front. It showed for a couple of minutes before disappearing right and out of view. A nice bird and funny to think of Dawn seeing one just the day before.

We made our way back around and through the central track and saw a kingfisher over and through. Kev mentioned that he was looking to see cinnabar moths on the ragwort, so we kept our eyes open. Soon we found a colony, localised but dozens of the blighters. Cinnabar moth caterpillars are striking and easily recognisable due to their bold black and yellow (or orange) stripes. These caterpillars are the larval stage of the day-flying cinnabar moth. They primarily feed on ragwort plants, which contain toxic alkaloids and by consuming these toxins, the caterpillars themselves become poisonous, which helps to deter birds and other potential predators. They are often seen in large numbers on ragwort, where they can sometimes completely strip the plants of leaves.

In an hour or so we were back in the car and heading for Goldcliff Pools - Kev has managed to be bitten 7 or 8 times but didn't mention the discomfort he was in - he had been climbing through the scrub to check out a relatively inaccessible pool. There were more hirundines gathered on the wires beside the road, and a single yellow wagtail as we arrived. We walked down the path and onto the pools, with little on view as we settled into the first hide. We went to the. second and third before we spending some time watching little grebes and assorted wildfowl on the limited available water.

We watched some pied wagtails and then to our surprise we saw a stoat running from right to left against the far reed line. They are part of the weasel family and are known for their slender bodies, short legs, and bushy tails with a distinctive black tip. Stoats are widespread across the UK and are found in a variety of habitats. Stoats have a brown upper coat, white or cream underparts, and a bushy tail with a black tip. In colder northern regions, they may turn almost completely white in winter, a phase known as "ermine," which helps them blend into snowy environments. They are larger than weasels, typically measuring 20-30 cm (excluding the tail) and weighing between 150-300 grams.

As predators, stoats play a crucial role in controlling populations of small mammals. However, they can also impact ground-nesting bird populations, especially in areas where birds are already vulnerable.

Once the stoat has reached the leftmost reed bed, I scanned back to find a second individual out in front and distant. It paused long enough to get a slightly better photo.

We marched up and down trying to find something of note but in the end we had to return to the car and make for home. Our last bird of the day was another kingfisher, only heard, by the small bridge.

RSPB Snettisham :: 27 July 2024

I so wanted to go for the spotted sandpiper at Cheddar Reservoir and many of my friends had managed to do so over the last couple of days, but at work there were things to do and no opportunity to drop out. I am desperate to connect with one as I missed the individual at Upton Warren a couple of years ago - this error of judgement comes up from time-to-time.

On Friday night I discussed birding options for the following day with Kev @kev07713 and he said that the traffic had been horrendous when he'd visited that day and that he would skip a return for seconds on this occasion (he had been on the road for 10 hours but only with the bird for 1½) - in any case, given the disturbance from birders getting closer and closer and eventually flushing the bird, he expected it to depart overnight in clear conditions (in fact it did depart and so it was a great call to do something else).

The obvious next choice was RSPB Snettisham offering an array of waders; another good reason for visiting there was to meet up with Kev's sister Karen @hobbylovinglife and her partner Dean @worlebirder who planned to do the same.

I picked Kev, Karen and Dean up from Kev's house at 05.00am, Karen and Dean having travelled up to Banbury in the early hours from Gloucestershire. We didn't have to get there too early as it is best to plan visits around high tide for the best chance to see large flocks. High tide would be 11.10am but we needed a couple of hours before to hopefully catch the semipalmated sandpiper as the tide came in, and before the birds were flushed onto the freshmarsh lagoons and up the coast.

We stopped in Kings Lynn for a leisurely breakfast and as we were finishing up Alan Boddington @alanbodd sat down at the table beside us - we had a good natter. Eventually we all set off heading for the Snettisham with a report on BirdGuides that the semipalmated sandpiper had been located.

Arriving in the car park we set out seeing ducks and gulls on one of the lagoons, with a dozen or so Egyptian geese. We moved quickly but listened out as we hoped to connect with the turtle doves this site is known for.

Turtle Doves prefer open woodlands, hedgerows, and areas with scattered trees and bushes. They are often found in farmlands, gardens, and scrublands; primarily feed on seeds, particularly those of arable weeds and cereals. They forage on the ground and are often seen feeding in fields and along field margins. They are summer visitors to the UK, arriving in late April to May and departing by September. During this period, they can be seen and heard here at Snettisham.

Their distinctive purring call can help locate them in dense vegetation, hedgerows and field edges where they may be feeding or perching.

Onto the sea wall we could see a congregation of birders a couple of hundred metres ahead - we stopped with a birder looking through his scope, finding that he was on a turtle dove. It wasn't calling but was perched atop a line of bushes at some distance - it would be the only one we'd see. The most recent estimates suggest that there are fewer than 2,000 breeding pairs of turtle doves remaining in the UK. This number represents a drastic decline from previous decades, so is a special encounter. Regardless, we had a date with the semi-p sandpiper and so pushed on.

The semipalmated sandpiper is a small shorebird native to North America and a rare vagrant to the UK with only sporadic sightings, usually involving single birds. They undertake long migratory journeys from their breeding grounds in the Arctic to their wintering grounds in South America. Most UK records occur during migration periods, particularly in August to October.

In breeding plumage, they have a mottled brown back, white underparts, and a distinctive black centre stripe on their crown. In non-breeding plumage, they are more uniformly greyish-brown above and white below. The name "semipalmated" refers to the partial webbing between their toes, which can be a helpful identification feature.

We joined the birders already in place and they put us on the bird - we had views through the scopes, but the distance made it tricky to capture anything but a dodgy record shot; it didn't help that I'd left the camera on full frame which made it even harder to pick out the bird. This was a lifer for Karen, and she excelled with her photos (here) which were much more detailed than mine - the extra reach with her bridge camera. There was no chance we’d be able to see the webbing on the feet.

We watched the bird for a while, but it didn't seem to be making any effort to close the gap to us. Numbers of little terns, a couple of Mediterranean gulls, and sandwich terns flew through with significant numbers of godwits, knot, dunlin amongst others feeding on the mud. Suddenly there was an eruption of waders into the sky, and we followed them as they swirled around - the reason for the agitation soon became clear as two Arctic skuas appeared, one of each of the colour morphs: a dark morph (uniformly dark brown) and a light morph (paler underparts with a dark cap and back).

The Arctic skua is a medium-sized seabird with a sleek, dark body and pointed wings. They are notorious for their piratical behaviour, often chasing and harassing other seabirds to steal their food, a behaviour known as kleptoparasitism. They are agile fliers and are often seen engaging in spectacular aerial chases.

Arctic skuas breed on coastal moorlands and islands in the UK, particularly in Scotland, including the Shetland and Orkney Islands, and occasionally in northern mainland Scotland. After the breeding season, they migrate to the southern hemisphere, wintering at sea in the subtropical and tropical oceans. The UK population is relatively small and has been declining with an estimated 1,200 to 1,500 breeding pairs, varying annually based on breeding success and environmental conditions.

In Norfolk they are typically seen during their migration rather than as breeding residents. They flew straight through.

We were able to pick out a few little stints and the same number of curlew sandpipers. The curlew sandpiper is another notable bird species that can be observed at Snettisham. In breeding plumage, it has rich chestnut-red underparts and mottled grey and brown upperparts. In non-breeding plumage it is pale grey above and white below, with a white rump and supercilium (eyebrow line). It is also a long-distance migrant, breeding in the Arctic and wintering in Africa, Asia, and Australia. They are typically seen in the UK during their migration periods. High tide is an optimal time to see them as they gather with the other waders at roosting sites.

The tide was advancing and some of the waders were getting closer - we'd all lost the semipalmated sandpiper.

The tide was flushing many of the knot, godwits, dunlin, oystercatchers and others from the bay, many flying over us and into the freshmarsh lagoon behind - a great spectacle. We decided to walk along to a hide where you could watch the assembled waders congregating on small islands. Spotted redshanks hung out with some cormorants. A Mediterranean gull and several sandwich terns roosted with assorted gulls on the island directly in front.

There was an update from South Screen that a white-rumped sandpiper had been found and so we quickly set off and found the hide already full of birders, packed in like sardines. Fortunately, we are all slim (haha), and soon all four of us had managed to squeeze in and had eyes on the bird. Initially it was asleep, popping its head out sporadically - eventually a tern dropped in beside moving it right and giving us a better view - even a wing-stretch.

The white-rumped sandpiper is a small shorebird from North America that occasionally appears as a rare but regular vagrant in the UK. In breeding plumage, it has a greyish-brown back with black streaks, a white rump (hence the name), and a distinctive white stripe over the eye. In non-breeding plumage, it is more uniformly greyish with less distinct markings. The white rump, usually visible in flight, is a key distinguishing feature. It also has a relatively long primary projection beyond the tail, giving it a pointed-winged appearance.

The white-rumped sandpiper was roosting with numbers of dunlin and knot; a spoonbill and domestic white goose were on the slope behind.

Red knots are migratory birds, passing through the UK during their journeys between their Arctic breeding grounds and wintering areas in West Africa; some also spend the winter in the UK. In breeding plumage, they have striking reddish-orange underparts and mottled gray and brown upperparts. In non-breeding plumage, they are more uniformly grey above and white below. They are known for their spectacular flocks, often seen in large numbers, especially during high tide roosts at Snettisham.

The best time to observe them is during high tide when they gather in large flocks on the mudflats and beaches; the sight of thousands of birds in flight is a remarkable spectacle.

We spotted another curlew sandpiper in the flock and continued scanning to see if we could add anything else, but then retired to the sea wall and a couple of benches for a coffee and lunch break.

While we still scanned the birds, picking out another little stint, we worked our way back along the sea wall and towards the car. We stopped on several occasions still daunted by the number of birds in view - I have never seen so many little terns in one place, Adrian Borley @AdrianBorley reporting a personal count of a minimum 357 a couple of days later ...

Little tern appear to have had a successful breeding season in Norfolk, particularly at Snettisham. Snettisham is part of the Wash, a large estuarine system that is crucial for many bird species. The successful breeding of little terns here highlights the importance of maintaining and protecting such habitats. This success is significant given the challenges faced by this species.

Reports indicate an increase in the number of nesting pairs at Snettisham with measures leading to a higher survival rate of chicks. Despite the successful season, little terns continue to face threats such as habitat loss, climate change, and disturbance; continued efforts are still needed.

We had a great visit, but everyone was starting to feel weary and we elected to stop at the cafe at the entrance to the reserve for a drink and freshen up before the journey home - never stopped there before and well worth remembering it is there.

Year list: 224.