A weekend catching up with a few spring arrivals :: 18/19 April 2026

There had been a fair amount of travelling over the past week, so Kev and I began the weekend’s birding with something closer to home, heading into Northamptonshire. There had been regular reports of a whimbrel at Clifford Hill, a site I had never visited before and one Kev had only been to once, and not for birding. Armed with his directions on where to park, we made for the car park on the western side of the main waterbody.

Clifford Hill Country Park forms part of the Upper Nene Valley Gravel Pits, a mosaic of lakes, reedbeds, wet grassland and footpaths created from former gravel workings. Paths circle the pools, and our target bird had been reported regularly along the northern shore of the main pit, according to the Northants Birding WhatsApp group.

We followed the track from the car park to the water’s edge, where a decision had to be made: north side or south? Kev mentioned that on his previous visit he had walked the southern route and seen a couple of yellow wagtails, so we opted to go that way, reasoning there might be more to record while still allowing views across to the northern shore.

Just as we turned right, we checked the WhatsApp group and saw that “Pete” had posted moments earlier that the whimbrel was still present - a relief - along with a list of other species he had seen, though without updating the bird’s location.

Sedge warblers called from all directions, while sand martin and the odd swallow hawked over the water and surrounding fields. Along the southern stretch of the footpath we spotted a birder beside the water, scope set up, bicycle leaning nearby, scanning the pit; presumably Pete. We quickened our pace to catch up with him.

When we had covered about half the distance, Kev suddenly picked up a bird passing through his scope’s field of view and called it out so we could both try to identify it. As usual, he was quick off the mark, suggesting it was our whimbrel. We could make out features that supported the identification and watched as it first circled the far side of the pool, then climbed high and flew strongly away over the houses beyond, disappearing from view. Was that our bird departing? Had we caught it just as it was leaving?

We scanned the north bank and could not see a whimbrel there, then continued on until we met Pete, now mounted on his bicycle and heading our way. After greetings, we mentioned we had just watched the whimbrel fly off. He seemed a little surprised, saying he had last seen the bird on the east bank quite recently, and as far as he knew there was and had only been one whimbrel present over recent days - so perhaps we had been mistaken ...

But as soon as we put the scope down, there was a whimbrel on the far north-eastern corner. Had there really been time for a long flight and a return? It seemed unlikely. Which raised the question: was there more than one?

Kev and I then had a brief discussion about whether to make a full circuit or turn back towards the car park. Kev realised, and probably already knew, that I would want a better photo than I had managed so far, so we pressed on, leaving Pete to continue his circuit in the opposite direction.

As we rounded the eastern bank, we watched the whimbrel work back onto the north bank, with a single little ringed plover in the background, one of three we would see there. Then, unexpectedly, a second whimbrel walked into view. Was this the bird we had seen fly through earlier and apparently return, or another entirely?

Before we could post an update on WhatApp, Pete had already done so, and before long he came round to join us, quickly adding a photo of the two whimbrels to the group.

One bird remained closer to the water but slowly fed its way nearer and nearer to the other, until at one point it approached so closely that it provoked a reaction: the second bird dropped its head, lunged forward, and sent the intruder briefly into the air. After that brief dispute, they resumed feeding together, though now at a more respectful distance.

We continued our walk around the pool and watched as five boats were being rowed up and down the river - two men’s crews, one women’s crew and two singles - with a launch following them back and forth, coaching from alongside and monitoring the stroke. In the reeds along the river’s edge, sedge warbler continued calling and we saw several more, seemingly trying to drown out the song of skylark rising and falling in the fields behind. We had seen six wheatear, three males and three females, but they refused to come close enough for a proper photo, and I decided not to pursue them around the field in search of a better shot.

Back at the car we decided to visit Summer Leys Nature Reserve, despite our earlier discussion that the additional whimbrel might have been the bird reported there the previous day. It would make for a pleasant few hours’ birding regardless, and at this time of year there is usually a chance of seeing and hearing garden warbler - a species neither Kev nor I had encountered yet this year.

We arrived in the car park and chose to make our circuit in the opposite direction to usual, passing a visit to the Pioneer Hide and taking a clockwise route instead. Along the path, Cetti's warbler, sedge warbler and willow warbler called, while butterflies drifted past - first orange-tip, then a holly blue, and perched on a bush we found a green-veined white. We talked about making a few butterfly trips in summer, when some of the intensity of spring birding eases and the migrants are all in and settled.

Shortly after a chiffchaff called from the side of the footpath and it was impossible not to comply with his request for a portrait.

We stopped as Kev mentioned he had heard a bullfinch. I hadn’t picked it up myself, but he was sure of it and said he could still hear the soft, call coming from somewhere nearby - possibly from the two birds that had just dropped into cover behind a bush to our left.

We turned on the Merlin app to see if it would pick anything up, but it remained silent on the matter, even though both of us could still hear the call. Kev, as so often, was outperforming Merlin.

After a short wait, a pair of bullfinches finally emerged. The male slipped out first and headed further along the path, more wary and reluctant to stay, while the female paused briefly to feed in a tree ahead, picking delicately at buds before following after him. They moved quietly and unhurriedly, slipping back into cover as quickly as they had appeared - understated, compact birds, but unmistakably lovely to watch at close range.

Now out along the disused railway track we paused often, listening as warblers called from all around us, the loudest being Cetti's and sedge warblers, both belting out their songs at full volume. Looking out over the water we counted at least eight terns, at times possibly more, and through the scope confirmed them as common tern.

At the sand martin wall there was no activity at all, and we picked our way around the diverted path, currently blocked off to give the birds some protection. There was an effort in 2014, when around 50 nest holes were drilled into the old quarry conveyor loading-ramp wall along the disused railway to provide a more secure and stable nesting site for sand martin. The artificial wall itself serves as protection, offering nesting burrows less vulnerable to erosion than natural banks.

As we rejoined the path on the far side, we came across a Cetti's warbler calling from right beside us, though hidden on the far side of a bush. It then flew into a more open shrub in front of us, at first largely obscured, but gradually worked its way into view, giving Kev and me the chance for a few photographs before it slipped away again into a denser patch of bramble.

Now on the last stretch we stopped to listen to a garden warbler and were initially frustrated that it remained invisible from the path. Eventually we found a small gap through the vegetation where we could watch it, though the view was heavily interrupted by leaves and branches - still enough to claim our first of the year.

This is a good place to encounter garden warbler, particularly from late April into June when males are in full song - they can be elusive and are often heard long before they are seen, but they are regular spring and summer migrants here.

We reached the car park and changed out of our boots for the journey home. Another excellent day out, and it had been good to do some birding a little closer to home for a change, helped by the arrival of so many migrants settling in for the summer.

That evening we chatted and decided it would be prudent to make the trip down to Swineham, near Wareham, to see the red-spotted bluethroat. Our regular white-spotted bluethroat at WWT Slimbridge will fail to return one of these years; it has been around five years since its first appearance, and it seems increasingly unwise to assume we will always get another chance. The Swineham bird, meanwhile, had been giving remarkable views to those walking the narrow trail at the reserve.

So Kev, Karen and I set off at a leisurely 7.00am, driving straight there - not passing go or collecting £200.

We parked on the roadside just outside the entrance to Swanage & Wareham Rugby Football Club and started down the track. Visitors had been asked not to park along the lane itself - at first we were a little concerned by the volume of traffic heading that way, but it soon became clear there was an event on, probably a match, with most vehicles turning into the club, leaving enough roadside space without causing an obstruction.

Partway along the track there was a narrow muddy section to cross, and despite wearing walking boots I decided to leap it. As I took off, I felt a pull in my calf muscle - what an idiot. Over the rest of the walk, I resigned myself to cancelling my Tuesday night pickleball session and did so on the website; there was no way I would be playing with that injury.

It took about twenty to twenty-five minutes to reach the spot, where we found a line of people gathered along the path, waiting for the bird to appear. We joined the back of the group and soon spotted Graham Jepson standing off the path and in the water. He had brought wellies “just in case”, and it was now paying dividends, allowing him to stand where others could not.

Then the bird appeared, and we began to get views. As it came and went, some people drifted away or shifted position, allowing us gradually to edge further and further towards the front. And what a bird it was.

Red-spotted bluethroat are scarce but regular migrants to Britain, and they are generally considered more numerous than white-spotted bluethroats in overall British records. They are Spring migrants, chiefly in May (their classic time) but are also recorded in autumn, especially on east coast migration hotspots. Most red-spotted bluethroats in Britain are brief, furtive and can vanish overnight. A confiding bird lingering for days is much more unusual.

As we watched, a call went up alerting everyone to three glossy ibis flying away from us. Not the best views, or the best photographs I have of the species, but a record for the day nonetheless.

We then settled into a period of waiting, hoping an osprey might fly along the channel as it had done for others in recent days - perhaps even, ambitiously, a white-tailed eagle. There was no such luck.

We did, however, see a number of bearded tits moving through the reeds, their pinging calls carrying across the margins, though I never managed a usable photograph of them.

As we made our way back along the lane to the car, we heard siskin calling overhead and eventually picked one up as it flew across the track and into a tree above us - always good value for the money.

Back at the car we decided to make a diversion on the way home to Pig Bush to see if we could locate any common redstart, as our friends Adrian and Bryan had seen some there the day before. I did not have a hard stop today, as my wife was away playing a pickleball league match and would be home late, so there was time for one more stop.

We reached the car park and took the last remaining space, then made our way through the trees to the far side, leaving the people behind. Kev picked up a firecrest calling, but we did not linger - we were on a mission.

Walking the line between the trees and open heath, it was not long before we heard a common redstart calling, and within a couple of minutes Kev had located it high in the canopy. We followed it as it moved from tree to tree, and occasionally it dropped a little lower, offering a chance for a photograph, though usually with the sky as a difficult backdrop.

It was great to see these birds back. They must be among our most colourful breeding species, and this was a welcome year tick.

We decided to leave this bird in peace and walked further along the edge of the trees. Having lagged behind, I caught up with Kev and Karen, who were already watching another male common redstart, this one lower down and dropping repeatedly from the tree to the ground and back again. As we watched, a female common redstart moved through the shadows below, hopping quietly into view before departing stage right.

We stayed with the male for a while, enjoying better views than the first bird, until a group of walkers with a dog came along the track and brought our entertainment to an abrupt end.

Karen had yet to see a Dartford warbler this year, so we set off in the opposite direction to try to find her one. It took a few hundred metres and around 20 minutes, but eventually we came across two birds - one giving only vocal clues from deep cover, and a second that briefly popped into view on a couple of occasions as it worked through the vegetation.

There must still be good numbers around, as we rarely fail to connect with this species in this area.

Dartford warbler is one of the signature birds of the New Forest National Park, which remains one of its principal strongholds in Britain. Unlike many warblers, it does not migrate to Africa, instead remaining on the heaths throughout the winter, reliant on mature lowland heath with a mix of heather and gorse.

It is also a notable conservation success story. After crashing to very low numbers following severe winters, most famously in 1962–63, the species has recovered strongly thanks to targeted habitat management and increasingly mild winters.

Mission accomplished, we started back towards the car and paused in the trees as we once again heard the call of a firecrest. We scanned the surrounding holly, focusing on movement among the dense foliage.

After a few moments we managed to pick out a bird, and it held long enough in the open for a decent photograph. A great species to round off a great weekend’s birding.

Year list: 231.

Hunting for woodlark :: 26-27 March 2026

Kev @kev07713 and I discussed possible options for a birding trip on Thursday, but with nothing particularly standing out, we settled on a visit to Greenham Common to target woodlark, with the hope of also finding a few wheatears. We decided to skip breakfast enroute and instead planned to pick something up later in the morning at the Control Tower café.

We arrived at the entrance to the car park to find a barrier down across the road - something neither of us remembered from previous early visits. A quick check online confirmed that the main Control Tower car park opens at 8am daily, with closing times ranging from 4pm in winter to 9pm in summer. As we were too early, we turned around at the roundabout and headed back to a layby we’d noticed on the way in, where there was just enough space to park alongside the two cars already there.

Next to the layby, a gate leads directly onto the common, and as we began pulling on our gear, two dog walkers came through. As we set off, Kev spotted a pair of bullfinches in a tree ahead, a species I had managed to miss so far this year, making them my first year tick of the day.

We set off down the path with song and mistle thrushes around us, while the call of a fieldfare alerted us to one passing overhead. A green woodpecker called from behind, and we watched as it flew past and landed in a nearby tree. Its flight was characteristically undulating, often described as bounding or roller-coaster-like, rising on a series of wingbeats before dipping into a glide. One of the most striking features was the flash of colour, the bright yellow rump glowing as it flew away, catching our eye before the rest of the bird could be seen clearly.

Stonechats bounced along the tops of the gorse, and Kev picked up what we initially thought was the pale front of a distant fieldfare — but closer inspection revealed a wheatear, which soon became two after another appeared nearby.

The return of wheatears to the UK in March is one of the classic early signs of spring migration, as they are among the first long-distance migrants to arrive back from Africa. UK wheatears spend the winter in sub-Saharan Africa before migrating thousands of kilometres north each spring to breeding areas across Britain. Many birds seen in March are passage migrants, briefly stopping in lowland fields, coastal grassland, heathland and commons before continuing north, with the earliest arrivals typically dominated by males racing ahead to secure territories before females follow in April.

We reached the denser gorse at the western end of the site, watching and listening for woodlarks, having seen them in this area on previous visits. Instead, we began hearing Dartford warblers and managed brief views of a couple, though they never stayed in the open long enough for a photograph.

We turned and began heading eastwards, picking up calls from our right - this time chiffchaffs and greenfinches. We continued listening carefully along the treeline in the hope of our first willow warbler of the year, but there was still no sign of one.

Stonechats were ever-present, almost always in pairs, as we continued scanning the sky and listening carefully. Then, as we reached a point due south of the Control Tower, we heard the distinctive call of a woodlark. Kev quickly picked it up in the sky, and we watched as it dropped down to the ground, though at quite some distance.

We carried on to the central crossing back toward the café side but paused again when another Dartford warbler began calling from the gorse. This time we enjoyed slightly longer views, enough for a couple of photos, although the bird never fully came into the open. It then slipped out the back and landed on an almost bare vertical branch, pausing just long enough for another shot, albeit from farther away.

I love these little Dartford warblers - proper bird rock stars, full of attitude and energy, perched on top of gorse with that spiky tail, slate-grey head and deep wine-red chest, looking like the coolest thing on the heath ... before diving back into cover the moment you raise the camera.

We decided to walk down the central gravel path, having heard another woodlark call and hoping we might get closer views than earlier. We spotted a few dog walkers and timed our progress along the path to give ourselves the best chance of encountering the woodlarks - and it paid off.

We soon saw and heard one bird, watching as it dropped to the ground just 10 m from the path, while another remained high in the sky behind. We managed a few photos before the first bird moved along the track from where we had come. We followed and repositioned ourselves, getting a better angle for more shots.

These elusive, ground-nesting birds are typically found in open heathland, short grass, and recently disturbed sandy or gravelly areas, all of which are abundant on Greenham Common. Across the UK, there are over 3,300 pairs, mainly inhabiting open, dry heathlands and woodland edges, with key populations in the New Forest, Breckland, and Dorset. While they can occasionally be seen outside the breeding season, they are most notable in February and March. Primarily resident, woodlarks feed on seeds and insects, though they often move onto farmland stubbles during autumn and early winter.

After a few minutes, Kev noticed someone approaching from our left - a dog walker. I assumed they would stick to the gravel path, as the signs instructed, but he and a woman behind him were walking along the grass track currently being used by our bird. Unsurprisingly, the woodlark was soon flushed and flew off.

We spoke to the walkers about staying on the designated tracks, especially as many birds are now setting up nesting sites. Rather than being apologetic, they insisted there were no nesting birds and that walking on the grass was easier than the paths. Clearly, some monitoring of visitor behaviour is needed, as we’ve previously seen dogs chasing birds and even muntjac across the site, seemingly unaware of the stress they cause to the wildlife. Having the dogs on leads might also help.

We heard a sandpiper call and looked up to see a common sandpiper fly overhead and away - our first of the year.

After this success, we made our way to the café for a late breakfast and to plan our next move. We decided to head back north and stop at Farmoor Reservoir. Before leaving, we spotted another two pairs of bullfinches and had another look at the wheatears, now seeing three in total, two males and a female.

We arrived at Farmoor Reservoir and walked along the causeway between F1 and F2, hoping for a glimpse of an osprey or even a swallow, but neither appeared although both have started to be reported from here - three sand martins flew through. However, we did find a lone dunlin feeding on the north side of the causeway. We later learned it had arrived on the south side around 9.30am but had moved onto the north side about an hour later - a very pale individual.

We reached the end of the causeway without spotting anything else and stopped at the west end for a while and were entertained by a pair of grey wagtails. There were an increasing number of boats on F2, so we decided to complete a circuit round F1 where there were more trees and potential for a willow warbler.

We continued our walk and came across a pair of goldeneyes, but I didn’t manage a photo as I was on a call with Audi to confirm a garage visit for the following day. Kev, meanwhile, captured a rather nice shot of the birds flying off while I was otherwise occupied. Among the handful of tufted ducks on the water was the long-staying greater scaup.

While we were standing by the ducks, a birder pushing a pram went past and paused ahead to scan the trees. When we reached the rough area, we heard a brief call from a willow warbler but couldn’t locate the bird or hear it again - we’ll have to wait for another opportunity to add it to our year list, though I’m sure we’ll get one soon.

We heard the call of a great spotted woodpecker and soon saw it leave a tree, flying along the edge of the woodland parallel to the houses beyond.

We reached the Visitor Centre and stopped for lunch, sitting down beside the birder who had been pushing the pram earlier. He was visiting from Wiltshire for the day and hadn’t seen the dunlin when he crossed the causeway, though he did spot a distant bird diving and wondered whether it might have been a diver - he also considered it may just have been a cormorant. He mentioned that he too had heard the willow warbler and managed a fleeting view. After lunch, he headed off along the causeway to look for the dunlin and make a circuit of F2.

On our way home, we saw updates on the Oxfordshire WhatsApp group reporting a juvenile great northern diver and a sanderling at Farmoor. One birder had a photo of the diver, and another reported seeing the sanderling, though others couldn’t locate it - perhaps it was just making a brief stop, as the pram-pushing birder hadn’t seen that earlier either. The great northern diver was a miss for us, likely diving distantly on F2, and as we weren’t scanning for anything specifically, we didn’t spot it. A shame, as they are magnificent birds, though we’ve had a few this year already. We’ve also enjoyed great views of this species at Farmoor in the past, most notably in January 2022 - report here.

The next day I was scheduled to drop my car at Newbury Audi for diagnostics on the software - my SatNav is now consistently showing incorrect locations, even though the GPS on the car reports the correct position on my Audi phone app. The car is also reporting altitudes between 7,500 and 18,000 feet above sea level and repeatedly claimed it couldn’t read the traffic speed signs. Clearly, there were some communication issues between the systems and the MMI.

I arranged to borrow a courtesy car and, once booked in, made my way to Acres Down in Hampshire for a walk to pass the time. On arrival, I realised I probably should have checked the weather forecast first, as a gentle drizzle was falling - one that looked likely to persist, though the forecast suggested it might stay light enough for a walk.

The last time Kev and I visited a few weeks earlier, we had headed south-east from the car park in search of woodlarks, so this time I set off along the trail in a north-westerly direction to see what might be about. I stopped at the tree where good views of lesser spotted woodpecker are sometimes had, though they are usually seen earlier in the morning. After pausing for a few minutes, I moved around the corner to check another tree where a tawny owl is occasionally found.

As I stood there, a woodpecker began drumming, but it was clearly a greater spotted rather than the hoped-for lesser - I walked back for a look anyway.

After a minute or so, a second great spotted woodpecker dropped onto the tree, called, and the pair soon flew off together. I waited a few more minutes before heading back around the corner.

As I watched the trees, a couple of marsh tits and a coal tit caught my attention, hurrying through the fallen trees and along the branches above. Then, in the bracken to my right, I noticed a bird feeding and once I picked it up through my binoculars, I could see it was a firecrest. It moved quickly through the scrub at ground level before heading deeper into the trees and away from the track - I wasn’t about to follow. I saw and heard a few more as I continued along the paths, but for now there would be no chance of another decent photo.

I walked up the hill towards the trees and the ridge and noticed a couple of birds landing in the trees ahead. I suspect I had flushed them from the ground as I approached and raised my binoculars, I was delighted to find they were a pair of woodlarks. Within a minute or two they seemed to relax and dropped back down into the heather and scrub to feed.

Woodlarks at Acres Down are a regular and fairly reliable species, though they are not always easy to see, so knowing where and when to look makes all the difference. I followed at a respectful distance and watched the area where they were feeding, managing to take a few photographs.

On the ground is where woodlarks spend most of their time when they are not singing or displaying, as they are primarily ground foragers. They walked steadily through short grass and bare patches, stopping frequently to pick at food, probing lightly at the surface and occasionally flicking aside vegetation.

Their diet changes through the year. In spring and summer, during the breeding season, they feed mainly on invertebrates such as beetles, spiders, caterpillars, small larvae and ants. In autumn and winter, seeds and other plant material make up a larger part of their diet.

Eventually the birds moved on, and I decided to leave them from being disturbed any more, continuing along the track. The habitat to my right looked promising for Dartford warblers, a classic New Forest heathland species, with open heather slopes away from the dense woodland - although they appear to be less reliable at Acres Down.

Instead, from the opposite side of the track, where the vegetation thickened with trees tangled in ivy and holly bushes, I heard the calls of firecrest. Two birds zipped through the holly, moving restlessly from branch to branch. I tried to photograph them as they flicked through the foliage, but they refused to sit still long enough for a proper shot.

Then, fortuitously, one dropped onto a branch poking out from the side of the holly and paused for what felt like about ten seconds, just long enough to capture it as it seemed to consider its next move. The result was a series of photographs, all taken from the same perch before it vanished back into the holly and following another through the cover.

The rain briefly intensified, so I began making my way back towards the car to stop for some lunch. Passing an area where significant tree felling had taken place, I noticed a bird high on the bare vertical trunk of a remaining tree, too small to have been taken for timber. Through my binoculars I could see it was a common crossbill, and despite the light drizzle and gloomy conditions I managed to take a few photographs. As I did, a couple of females appeared, rising from the ground to lower perches to join the original bird. They did not stay for long before flying off up the slope and disappearing from view.

I returned to the car, had some lunch, and watched the raindrops fall ever harder, passing the time as a song thrush and a couple of robins foraged outside the rain-covered windows. Eventually, I headed back to the garage, only to learn that the diagnosis required a larger software update than could be completed in a single day. I would need to return and leave the car there for a couple of days, meaning a return to cruising with a ceiling of 7,500 feet and above.

Year list: 205.