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.

Titchfield Haven NNR & Hook-with-Warsarsh :: 04 April 2026

There seemed an obvious choice of destination for Saturday - the American golden plover at Hook-with-Warsash, Hampshire. This coastal reserve lies at the mouth of the River Hamble and includes mudflats, saltmarsh and grazing marsh, making it ideal habitat for migrant waders.

Birders reported a bird at Bunny Meadows, Warsash, on 30 March, identified by observers as an American golden plover; it was seen on a rising tide. American golden plover is a rare vagrant in Britain, typically appearing in autumn among European golden plover flocks following Atlantic drift migration; this individual was reported within the high-tide roost alongside grey plovers.

Tide height is crucial, as birds move from the mudflats onto the grazing marsh as the water pushes in. The prime viewing window is therefore from around 1.5–2 hours before high tide up to high tide itself. Reports suggested that at Hook-with-Warsash plovers often feed out on exposed mud early on, then drop into Bunny Meadows once the tide reaches mid-level and begins to rise - so if nothing is present, it pays to stay put, as the birds frequently arrive rather than being there already.

With this in mind, and with high tide due at around 1.40 pm, Kev @kev07713 and I decided to visit Posbrook Floods, part of Titchfield Haven NNR, first and wait for the tide to push birds off the mudflats where they might otherwise be difficult to locate. There had been a report of a ruddy shelduck on the floods and adjacent fields, and it is always good to catch up with one.

We arrived at the field west of Ranvilles Lane where the ruddy shelduck had been reported the previous day, associating with Egyptian geese, and pulled in to scan. Six Egyptian geese were immediately visible, then seven, then nine as two more flew in, but there was no sign of the ruddy shelduck. A few skylarks added both movement and to the soundscape.

After a short while Kev suggested checking Posbrook Floods, which he had spotted on the way in. A quick look confirmed that this was another location where the shelduck had recently been reported and is a new site for us. We parked in the busy car park, occupied mostly by dog walkers rather than birders, booted up, and set off along the track onto the reserve.

We walked along the path accompanied by the sounds of Cetti’s warblers, chiffchaffs, and various tits, providing a constant soundtrack as we went. At the first pool a few Egyptian geese were present, though the ruddy shelduck was not among them. Small groups of black-tailed godwits fed along the margins, with several shelducks, a couple of lapwings and a scattering of gulls - mostly black-headed - completing the view. Across the field on the opposite side, three great-spotted woodpeckers and a jay made their presence known.

Further along the path Kev was able to scan back into a distant corner and alerted me to a glossy ibis that I couldn’t yet see from my position. Catching up with him, I picked up the bird, though it was far too distant to attempt a photograph. We continued on and soon met a couple of birders coming the other way, stopping briefly to point out the ibis as they had not yet seen it. Around then, four sand martins appeared over the distant trees, hawking low in the air.

Behind us a willow warbler called, and we scanned the surrounding trees and shrubs but struggled to locate it. A great tit joined in, adding to the confusion, and Kev drifted back, following the warbler's calls. Suddenly a small bird dropped into a blackthorn bush directly in front of me and I quickly got my binoculars onto it - a willow warbler, my first of the year. It showed pale legs and a noticeably long-winged, attenuated structure, the primary projection extending beyond the tertials. It flicked between perches, picking at emerging insects, its soft yellowy tones catching the sunlight before slipping back into cover, though while in view it didn't call.

Back at the pool, the glossy ibis took to the wing, gliding along the far edge of the water before disappearing behind a large tree that stood between us and the pool’s front. A few minutes later, one of the other birders called out that four glossy ibis were airborne, and we all watched them drift past at a distance against the grey sky. It wouldn’t be the last glimpse of them: as we walked further along the track, they reappeared, dropping in partway along the flooded grass area, but hidden behind tall grasses.

The glossy ibis is a striking wetland wader, its iridescent plumage shimmering in shades of bronze, green, and purple, and its long, down‑curved bill unmistakable. Still relatively scarce in the UK compared to more common waders, it has been increasingly recorded in southern coastal and inland floodplain sites, often in small groups - I seem to recall an extraordinary flock a year or two ago, when 92 birds were reported together in flight.

As each approached the flooded grass, they slowly raised their long, tapered legs, splaying its toes for a gentle touchdown. Its broad wings tilted slightly, creating a graceful, gliding motion, while the tail feathers fanned for balance, giving it a smooth, almost floating landing.

Behind us, a great spotted woodpecker began drumming on a dead tree, so close we half expected it to appear immediately - it must have been just around the far side of the branch. Soon enough, it hopped into view, perching briefly for a few tens of seconds before taking flight to join another woodpecker in the trees just behind.

One of the other birders mentioned having seen marsh harriers, and before long we were watching two of them separately - a male first, followed by a female. They moved swiftly through the air rather than quartering the reeds, but regardless, their presence was enough to flush birds from the water and along the pool edges, drawing everyone’s attention to the raptors gliding overhead.

We made our way to the second pool, still unable to locate the ruddy shelduck, but enjoyed good views of a nuthatch busy in the tree above. Photography was tricky, but I snapped a few shots anyway. While there, we chatted with another birder who had also returned to the second pool. He turned out to be from Surrey and considered Staines Reservoir his local patch.

Eventually, we took a slow stroll back to the car, leaving him at his car, and I tallied up our day’s sightings - around 45 species in total. Truly, a lovely little reserve.

We decided to return to the top fields to see if the ruddy shelduck had appeared. Scanning the area yielded nothing, but news on BirdGuides alerted us that the American golden plover had been spotted from the footpath north along the east bank of the River Hamble from the Passage Lane car park. Without hesitation, we jumped into the car, heading there just as it approached the best window for observation.

We arrived, grabbed our scopes, and set off along the footpath, spotting other birders doing the same. A few were already standing more than half a mile ahead, scopes raised, cameras raised. On reaching the location, we saw the bird and took a moment to decide the best vantage point for viewing/videoscoping and photography.

As I dropped down to a viewing platform, I spotted our friends Nick @old_caley and Anne Truby and went over to say hello. Nick couldn’t believe our luck - he’d spent two hours trekking up and down the river, covering every inch in search of the bird. Meanwhile, we had practically walked straight onto it, though in fairness, that was part of the plan; Kev had done a bit of research on the tides, and it had paid off, although I believe Nick and Anne had been afforded better views when the bird had first dropped in.

This first-winter American golden plover is a visitor to our shores, a rare but regular vagrant. It is medium-sized, with a compact rounded body, and has a short, straight black bill and long, slender dark grey or blackish legs. Its upright, alert posture and quick, deliberate steps make it easy to spot once you know where to look.

Its plumage, is far less flamboyant than an adult in breeding colours with its back a soft sandy-brown streaked with darker markings, while the underparts are pale, with delicate streaking across the breast and flanks. Its head and face show gentle contrasts: a faint pale eyebrow and pale cheeks.

Nick and Anne decided to leave, as the bird remained at a distance and the incoming tide was filling the muddy bay between us and it, making it unlikely to come any closer and limiting chances for better photos - it had also been a longer morning for them as they had opted to search for the bird. Our only real opportunity came when a group of gulls flushed it, sending it flying across to a grass covered island with the three grey plovers and a lone dunlin. A handful of black-tailed godwits remained and paused to shake and splash, washing away mud and debris.

Overhead, a swallow flew through, my first of the year, while a dozen or so brent geese drifted by, carried along as the tide flowed from the bay into the lagoon. Before long, it was time for us to move on as well.

Deciding what to do next, we opted to return to the Posbrook Floods. We’d enjoyed our earlier visit, and there was still a chance the ruddy shelduck might reappear. On arriving back at the fields, however, we found numbers noticeably reduced - even the Egyptian geese had largely disappeared. Finding a parking space proved far more difficult this time, but fortune was on our side when a couple walking their dog returned to their car and left just as we arrived, allowing us to slip neatly into the vacant spot.

Setting off along the track, we soon spotted a roe deer lying low in the grass, occasionally nibbling at the vegetation around it. Resting quietly among the lush spring growth, only its head and upper neck rose above the greenery. The deer appeared calm yet alert, its dark eye half-watchful as it listened to the sounds of the reserve and the steady passage of walkers nearby.

Its coat was transitioning into the rich reddish tones of spring and summer, replacing the heavier grey of winter. The fur looked slightly tousled and damp, giving a textured, natural appearance that blended perfectly with the fresh vegetation. One ear turned forward while the other angled back, independently scanning for sound and a classic roe deer posture.

Most striking were the short antlers in velvet, thick and rounded, still covered in soft, pale tissue as they continue to grow. The velvet gave a plush, almost sculpted look, contrasting with the darker face and muzzle.

We paused again by the blackthorn where earlier we had seen and heard a willow warbler, but this time a chiffchaff dropped into view and immediately made its presence known. Perching in the open, it gave it large, seemingly determined to dominate the local soundscape.

Chiffchaffs are now a familiar sound across the UK during the summer breeding season, with an estimated 1.1 to 1.8 million breeding pairs. Once considered a scarce winter resident, increasing numbers - likely in the low thousands - now remain through the colder months, aided by milder winters and improved survival rates. Most overwintering birds are found in southern areas, particularly near water and around sheltered sites such as sewage treatment works.

There were noticeably more Egyptian geese around the first pool and on the slope behind it, their numbers presumably boosted by birds that had earlier been feeding in the field to the east. A few moved about restlessly, but there was still no sign of our target species. By now, though, the search had softened into simply enjoying the birding rather than focusing on any one bird.

Scanning the sky, a handful of sand martins appeared, hawking insects high over the water. As we watched, more joined them until we counted at least eighteen birds swirling distantly overhead - excellent to follow through binoculars. Among them was a single swallow, and, like buses, it became my second sighting of the year and the day.

April marks one of the true turning points of spring in the UK, the return of the swallows. After spending the winter thousands of miles away in sub-Saharan Africa, these migrants begin to reappear across the countryside, their arrival often coinciding with lengthening days and the first genuine warmth of the year.

We walked on and as we reached the end of the first pool a familiar call was heard overhead - the unmistakable call of a Mediterranean gull. We looked up and caught sight of the bird and then another two with it. They circled and flew along the pool and out onto the second pool. The second pool was dominated by larger gulls - both herring and lesser black-backed - and so the Med gulls gradually worked back to the first pool which held more black-headed gulls and dropped onto the pool.

Many Mediterranean gulls in the UK are by now in full breeding plumage and therefore visible among gatherings of more common gulls. Once a genuine rarity, the species has steadily increased in recent decades and is now a regular sight at coastal lagoons, estuaries, reservoirs, and even inland wetlands.

At this time of year, adults are unmistakable; their jet-black hoods, clean white bodies, and pale grey upperwings give them a strikingly elegant appearance, while the bright red bill and legs add a splash of colour that stands out even at distance. In flight, the lack of black wingtips, replaced instead by clean white outer wings, is often the feature that catches the eye first. Their calls, softer and more nasal than those of black-headed gulls, give them away before they are picked out visually, as was the case today.

We enjoyed the remainder of the stroll and eventually turned to make the journey back to the car, but I stopped to look at a flock on the far hillside, which until now I had assumed were cattle given the colours. Through my binoculars I could now see they were goats and looking up the species I found them to be Boer goats.

Boer goats are an increasingly familiar sight in parts of the UK countryside, easily recognised by their sturdy build and distinctive colouring - a white body paired with a rich brown head and long, pendulous ears. Originally developed in South Africa for meat production, the breed is valued for its hardiness, calm temperament, and ability to thrive in a wide range of environments.

Their strong browsing behaviour makes them particularly useful for habitat management, where they help control scrub, bramble, and invasive vegetation that might otherwise overwhelm grassland or heath habitats. As a result, they are sometimes encountered unexpectedly near nature reserves or rewilding projects. Often curious but relaxed around people, Boer goats can be seen methodically working through vegetation, standing on hind legs to reach higher leaves or moving steadily across slopes and rough ground with impressive agility. Their growing popularity reflects both practical farming needs and a broader interest in sustainable land management across the UK.

It was time to head for home, stopping for coffee and a cake on the way.

Year list: 213.