Isombridge, Ryton Pools & Brandon Marsh :: 17 March 2026

The taiga bean goose has a relatively recent yet highly significant history at Slamannan in central Scotland, where it now represents one of Britain’s most important wintering goose populations. Historically, taiga bean geese wintered more widely across Scotland, but numbers declined sharply during the twentieth century as a result of habitat change and broader population decreases across Europe. By the late twentieth century, Scotland’s remaining birds were largely confined to Carron Valley in Stirlingshire, where a peak count of 122 birds was recorded in the winter of 1987–88. During the late 1980s, small numbers began appearing on the nearby Slamannan Plateau, marking the beginning of a major shift in wintering distribution.

Through the early 1990s, the entire Scottish flock gradually relocated from Carron Valley to Slamannan. By this time, annual monitoring programmes had begun, with the flock numbering roughly 130–150 birds, and Slamannan becoming Scotland’s only regular wintering site for the species.

My brother and his wife moved from Glasgow to Croy last year, and I had hoped to fit in a visit to see the flock while we were in Scotland in February, as I had never encountered the species before and the site lies only about fifteen minutes from where he lives. In the end, however, my brother travelled down to the coast to visit us, and an unplanned trip to the Highlands followed before we returned home, meaning we never managed to add the bean geese to our holiday list.

The reported sighting of a taiga bean goose at Isombridge in Shropshire immediately caught Kev’s @kev07713 and my attention, and we soon hatched a plan to go and see it. It’s a superb species to encounter in the UK, and one located just a couple of hours from home was too good an opportunity to miss. We set off along a familiar route towards North Wales - a road well known to us from our annual trips to see grouse - but this time stopped short of the moorland, parking instead along quiet farmland lanes bordered by hedgerows.

A couple of other birders pulled in behind us and joined us scanning the fields, though initially we couldn’t locate any geese. Rather oddly, they soon returned to their car and drove off just as we decided to walk down towards the pools, where the distant sound of calling geese could be heard. A jay flew through as we made our way down.

At the pools we found plenty of Canada geese, constantly on the move, some hopping between pools while others lifted off to feed in surrounding fields, but our target bird was nowhere among them. We headed back to the road to view the area marked by the previous day’s BirdGuides pin, squeezing between a line of trees and a barbed-wire fence to set up our scopes.

After a short while scanning, we picked up three geese feeding several fields away in longer grass. The report had mentioned the taiga bean goose associating with two pink-footed geese, and with two pink-foots clearly visible, these seemed promising. The third bird, however, was partly obscured. When it finally walked into the open, the reality became clear - it was a greylag. Damn.

Now set up, Kev scanned back along the fenceline and picked up a fourth bird, partly obscured and previously overlooked as we had assumed the greylag was our target. Through the scopes it quickly became clear that this was indeed the bird we had come for.

The taiga bean goose is a large goose, slightly bigger and noticeably longer-necked than a pink-footed goose. It shows a strong, elongated profile, with a fairly long neck, gently sloping forehead, and substantial body. The head appears angular rather than rounded, giving the bird an alert, purposeful expression, and it looked tall and upright when standing.

Overall, the plumage was a cold grey brown. The upperparts were dark brown with pale feather fringes that created a scaled appearance, while the underparts appeared paler grey with darker barring along the flanks. The head and neck were darker than the body, giving a subtly hooded look. The bill, one of the key identification features, was long and mostly dark with a broad orange band across the middle. In taiga bean goose this orange band is typically extensive, though variable between individuals, and the bill often looks long and parallel-sided rather than stubby. The legs and feet were bright orange.

The bird had originally been reported as a tundra bean goose, one of many that have visited the UK this winter, but photographs later posted online led to its reidentification as a taiga bean goose.

We spent some time photographing and watching the geese as they fed and rested in the grass below us, gradually working their way to the right and eventually disappearing behind a denser stand of trees. By now the pink-foots had rejoined the taiga, while the greylag had drifted off elsewhere. Once the birds slipped out of view, we took it as our cue to move on.

As we walked back towards the car, who should arrive but Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston, our friends from Banbury and Didcot. After sharing the bird’s location with them, we left them to it and headed off to search for a hoopoe that had been reported nearby, somewhere between the farm and the village, though it hadn’t been seen the previous day. Despite a thorough search, we came up empty-handed - the bird has most likely moved on.

Having enjoyed success with the taiga, we discussed our next move and decided on a visit to Ryton Pools. Kev hadn’t seen a ferruginous duck yet this year, and a smew had recently begun to be reported there again, a bird I had missed on my previous visit. We arrived, parked up, and agreed to look for the birds before stopping for lunch at the Visitor Centre.

It’s a relatively short walk from the car park to Paget’s Pool, where both the ferruginous duck and smew are usually reported, and along the way I allowed myself a small hope of encountering a bullfinch - though it wasn’t to be. Instead, we came across a flock of Hebridean sheep grazing quietly in a field beside the path.

The Hebridean sheep is a striking and ancient breed, instantly recognisable by its jet-black fleece and impressive multiple horns, often four in number, which sweep outward and curl elegantly around the head. Small but robust, it has a compact, primitive build well suited to harsh upland and island environments, reflecting its origins in the Hebrides of western Scotland. The coarse, dark wool and alert, narrow-faced expression give the animal a distinctly wild appearance compared with modern farm breeds. Highly hardy and adaptable, Hebridean sheep thrive on rough grazing and are now widely used in conservation projects, where their natural browsing helps maintain species-rich grassland and open landscapes.

We reached Paget's Pool and scanned the water, eventually spotting the ferruginous duck again, though at a considerable distance - first from the viewing platform and later from the track running along the pool’s edge. The bird seemed determined to keep its distance, always staying beside or beyond the tree-covered island that separates this side from the open water. While seeing this bird was the main reason for our visit, we also hoped to find a smew, and it didn’t take long. From the hide, I was joined by a woman who had seen the redhead from the next viewing platform. As I stepped outside to tell Kev, he said that he had just located it diving in the narrows.

At first, we could catch glimpses of the redhead smew through the trees along the water’s edge. By the time we moved to the viewing platform, however, we had uninterrupted views as the bird dived repeatedly in the narrows right in front of us - so close that we could often see her clearly beneath the surface.

A female (redhead) smew is a striking small diving duck, quite distinct from the male. Her overall plumage is a soft grey, with warm reddish-brown on the head fading into a pale, subtle throat. The body is pale grey with slightly darker flanks, and her wings show fine white edging that are more noticeable in flight. Compared to the boldly patterned black-and-white male, the female is understated yet elegant, blending soft earthy tones with subtle contrasts.

She is an adept diver, hunting small fish and invertebrates, and here we watched her successfully bring up both great-crested and smooth newts, a display of her skill and feeding behaviour.

The smew made its way back along the narrows into the larger pool, and we followed. Eventually, we returned to the hide, where we also spotted a buzzard on the far bank, busy with its prey - though what it was eating remained a mystery.

Eventually, we returned to the Visitor Centre and ordered some sandwiches for lunch. While waiting, we were scrolling on our phones when Kev spotted a post from Alan Boddington @alanbodd, noting that the garganey from the day before had been refound on East Marsh Pool. After finishing lunch, we jumped in the car and drove the short seven minutes to Warwickshire Wildlife Trust’s Brandon Marsh reserve, hoping the bird would stick around this time.

Passing through the Visitor Centre, we bumped into Alan Boddington, who mentioned it had been a surprise to see the garganey again, as everyone had been searching for it the day before but there they were, back on East Marsh Pool. We hurried through the reserve to the John Walton Hide, which overlooks the pool and the reeds where the pair had been active. As we settled in, I realised that beside me was Dennis Woodward @DennisW500, whom we hadn’t seen since Pitsford Reservoir last year when searching for the American golden plover. He mentioned we’d arrived at just the right moment - the pair had cruised into the bay after being out of view for a short while and were now busy feeding together.

Garganey are primarily dabbling ducks, feeding mostly at or near the water’s surface rather than diving. They tip forward in the water, submerging their head and neck while keeping their tail raised, allowing them to reach aquatic plants, seeds, and invertebrates just below the surface. Their diet includes aquatic insects, larvae, crustaceans, molluscs, and seeds, with insects and small invertebrates being especially important during the breeding season. Garganey can also take small amphibians, such as tadpoles or newts, when foraging in shallow water.

By mid-March, many garganey have formed pairs. A male and female are often seen feeding and moving closely together. At this stage, pair bonds are strong, but they are not yet involved in nest-building. In the UK, most March sightings are migrants passing through on their way north. Pairs may form at stopover sites, feeding together and resting, but they typically continue to breeding grounds further east or north. Reserves such as Brandon Marsh in the Midlands serve as important refuelling and resting sites rather than likely breeding sites.

However, garganey are confirmed as a rare breeding duck in Britain with an estimated 100–120 pairs nesting each year in suitable wetland habitats, including shallow marshes and flooded grasslands in central, southern, and eastern England. Because these birds are secretive and remain within dense vegetation during the breeding season, their numbers are difficult to monitor, and confirmed nests or broods are often hard to document.

The UK’s Rare Breeding Birds Panel includes garganey on its list of regularly reported breeding species, highlighting their status as a rare breeder rather than just a migrant. Nationally, breeding records are most frequent in areas such as the Ouse Washes, Norfolk Broads, Somerset Levels, and parts of eastern England, where extensive shallow wetlands provide ideal conditions.

After feeding for a while, the birds drifted further out into the bay and began preening and washing in the deeper water. The garganey often dipped repeatedly into the water, sometimes quite vigorously, flapping and creating splashes that helped loosen dirt and parasites before preening. The male was particularly energetic, frequently tipping forward and performing partial somersaults, submerging his head and neck while keeping his feet raised skyward - an entertaining display that he repeated at least half a dozen times.

After spending some time watching the garganey pair, we returned to the car and headed home, content with having seen a lifer, Kev finally catching up with the “fudge duck", and connecting with garganey that I’d/we'd missed on previous days. Another great day out.

Year list: 197.

WWT Slimbridge :: 26 July 2025

Looking around there didn't seem to be much around that we might travel to, at least not within easy reach. Much like Frampton Marsh and Lymington you can never have a bad day at WWT Slimbridge, so we decided to head there, arriving just as the members’ gate opened, comfortably ahead of the general public. At the entrance we were greeted by a young girl volunteering as a warden, noting down membership numbers. Her mother remarked on how impressed she was that her daughter not only had the interest, but also the enthusiasm to get up so early for it.

From that entry point it made sense to follow the track past the Rushy Hide towards the Estuary Tower Hide, which overlooks the Dumbles. There had been a report of a Caspian tern here the day before, so you never know what might turn up.

At the Rushy hide, there was quite a change since our last visit. Avocet numbers had dropped sharply, presumably because they’d nested and the young had fledged, probably moving to other parts of the reserve. I was keeping a species tally, carefully working through the ducks in search of teal - eventually, I did find a couple. Nearby, a black swan was sleeping, while redshank, green sandpipers, and several little ringed plovers with their young busily scuttled along the water’s edge.

The day before, a female garganey had been reported from the area to the left of the Robbie Garnett Hide. We were delighted when another birder picked it out - distant, but right in front of us. It certainly hadn’t been there earlier, as I had thoroughly scanned all the ducks while searching for teal. It must have dropped in while we were scanning, hidden among the crowd. Over the following days it would prove to be quite mobile, sometimes seen on the Tack Piece, “calling in” before flying back over the hedge.

The garganey is a small dabbling duck, similar in build to teal, and one of the rarest but regular summer visitors. A migratory species, it breeds in parts of Europe and western Asia, arriving in March, then winters in sub-Saharan Africa and southern Asia from August onwards. A female appearing at Slimbridge in late July might be a failed breeder leaving early, a dispersing post-breeder seeking rich feeding before migration, or a migrant from continental Europe pausing on its journey. Slimbridge provides ideal conditions for moulting birds: safe water, plentiful food along the margins, and limited disturbance.

The female, though far subtler than the strikingly patterned male with his bold white head stripe, is beautifully adapted to her wetland environment. Garganey are often secretive, foraging quietly in shallow margins or hidden among vegetation—unless, of course, they’re fast asleep in the reeds, which is how I’ve often encountered them.

After we'd chatted with others in the hide, we looked back to see our bird had vanished, presumably the small duck flying off to the left.

We stopped briefly at the Martin Smith hide, but with little in view we moved on to the Robbie Garnett hide. Here, a dozen or so green sandpipers were feeding close by, a few showing particularly well right in front of the hide. Some waded in the water, their movements captured beautifully in the reflections. Across the far bank a spoonbill was, as ever, fast asleep. A lone male ruff worked along the water’s edge, first feeding to the right and then drifting left. While scanning to count the green sandpipers, I noticed one bird that stood out - “one of these things is not like the others.” It was, in fact, a wood sandpiper.

Wood sandpipers are most frequently encountered during spring passage (April–May) and again on autumn migration (July–September). Late July through August marks their peak return passage, as birds travel south after breeding in northern Europe and Asia. In Britain the annual total usually numbers only in the low hundreds, with most sightings involving single birds, though occasionally several may gather at a good site.

This individual was feeding at some distance but eventually flew in to about halfway across the pool, allowing for a slightly better view and photograph.

To our amazement, the spoonbill eventually stirred from its sleep and with a stretch and a shake of its head, it began to preen, giving us a chance to see it in all its elegance. Its plumage looked dazzlingly white and the bird’s long, spatulate bill was shown off beautifully as it worked methodically through its feathers. An exotic visitor more reminiscent of a Mediterranean lagoon than a Gloucestershire wetland.

This small interlude was lovely to watch, as spoonbills often appear motionless for hours at a time. Their routine of sleeping and preening is in fact a reflection of their feeding ecology - they tend to feed intensively at dawn and dusk, sweeping their distinctive bills side to side through shallow water, then spend much of the day resting to conserve energy. In the UK they are still relatively scarce, though their numbers are slowly increasing, with breeding colonies now established in a handful of sites.

After its brief display the bird soon reverted to type, tucking its bill back beneath its wing and sinking once more into sleep.

From the next hide we located a great white egret, standing almost motionless in the shallows. Its large size and striking white plumage made it easy to pick out, but the bird hardly moved during the time we watched it. This still, patient behaviour is typical of the species, which will often wait for long periods before stalking and striking quickly at passing fish or amphibians. Great white egrets are becoming more frequent sightings and are now breeding in a few areas, so encounters like this are no longer quite the rarity they once were.

In front of the hide, activity was provided by a family of reed warblers moving rapidly through the reedbed. The adults worked their way among the stems, searching for insects, while the juveniles followed, less agile but clearly learning quickly. Their constant movement gave us an excellent chance to watch them at close quarters, a good example of the busy, hidden life that thrives in reedbeds through the summer.

We made our way up into the Estuary Tower and spent some time scanning the view, hoping for a glimpse of the Caspian tern reported the previous day, or perhaps something interesting passing over the Tack Piece or the Dumbles. Despite repeated checks with the scope, the scene remained fairly quiet. On the slope down to the water’s edge we noted groups of gulls, curlew, and dunlin, but nothing out of the ordinary stood out. With little else showing, we decided to retrace our steps and head across to the Zeiss Hide.

From there we picked up a pair of common cranes off to our left, feeding in the distance. These birds have become a welcome feature at Slimbridge in recent years, thanks to the reintroduction programme. Looking further out, a marsh harrier came into view, flying steadily across the reserve. It was immediately mobbed by a variety of smaller species as it passed through. Once the raptor had gone, many of the disturbed birds filtered back down to the pools. Among them we picked out a leucistic lapwing, strikingly pale compared with the rest of the flock and an unusual sight.

From here we could also see more than one hundred avocets – so this is where they were.

A sudden burst of commotion broke out when news came through that the Caspian tern had reappeared. The message circulated quickly via the local WhatsApp birding group, BirdGuides, and even by a telephone call. Kev and I, along with a pair of other birders, set off at pace back towards the Estuary Tower Hide - ironically, we had managed to place ourselves about as far from the bird as it was possible to be on the reserve.

Partway there, however, another update came through: the tern had been flushed by grazing cattle from the field where it had been resting and had vanished. The birders ahead of us relayed the disappointing news, but we continued on regardless, hoping it might return.

At the Estuary Tower Hide, a small crowd had gathered, all scanning the estuary in anticipation. More people arrived in quick succession, word clearly travelling fast. Despite our collective effort, the tern never showed again, though it was reported once more the following day.

While the tern stayed away, there was still plenty of activity on the Dumbles. Increasing numbers of common cranes began to drop in, eventually building to around twelve birds, loosely gathered in pairs. As we watched the cranes settle, the black swan flew past, presumably returning from feeding elsewhere.

We headed back to the Visitor Centre for a bite to eat and a much-needed coffee before setting off again, this time towards the Discovery Hide. A Tundra bean goose had been reported from there earlier in the morning, and we were keen to try our luck.

On the way, however, we met several birders coming in the opposite direction, all of whom reported that the goose had disappeared. This news was confirmed as soon as we arrived at the hide - no sign of the bird. We spent some time scanning, but at first all we could pick out were greylags scattered across the pools and grazing areas. Still, the atmosphere in the hide was good, with birders chatting.

Then, just as our attention began to drift, Kev suddenly pointed and called out. There, walking steadily along the strip of land between two bodies of water, was our goose. At last, the Tundra bean goose had revealed itself, giving us the views we had been waiting for.

They breed in the Russian Arctic tundra and migrate mainly to western and central Europe; the UK is on the edge of their regular wintering range. Generally darker in plumage than greylags, with a more compact build - the bill is mostly dark with a limited orange band near the middle.

Time was marching on, and we returned to the Rushy hide to see what might be showing there, finding that the spoonbill must have relocated - again initially asleep, preening, and then going back to sleep after it had walked at most 5 metres.

Green sandpipers sometimes flatten themselves, lying low in shallow water when a raptor passes overhead - this “freeze” behaviour is a well-known anti-predator response. However, on hot days, green sandpipers (like many waders) will sometimes settle low in very shallow water or damp mud to cool off. The water can help regulate temperature, especially in mid-summer - this seemed to be what was happening.

A ruff fed in the shallows but again some distance from us.

On our way back to the car we passed through the Slimbridge collection and were drawn to the enclosure holding masked lapwings and southern screamers, two striking species sharing the same space. We stepped inside the walk-through area just as one of the lapwings began bathing in the pool, splashing vigorously before pausing to shake out its wings.

Masked lapwings, also known as spur-winged plovers, are native to Australia and New Guinea. They are bold, noisy birds, often highly territorial, and are well known for defending their nests with loud calls and even aerial attacks on intruders. Their distinctive yellow wattles and sharp wing spurs give them a unique appearance among lapwings.

The southern screamer by contrast, is a large South American wetland bird, more goose-like in size and stature. Despite its bulky build, it belongs to the same order as ducks and geese, though it looks quite different. Its name comes from its extraordinarily loud, far-carrying call, which can be heard over long distances in its native range. At close quarters its size and unusual build make it particularly impressive.

Together in the same pen, the two species made an odd but fascinating pairing - one small and sharp, the other large and ungainly but both offering a glimpse of wetland life from very different parts of the world.

Year list: 222.