Hampshire return, then into Gloucestershire :: 23/24 January 2026

A first-winter killdeer was initially recorded in the UK on 5 November, when it was discovered on Skokholm/Skomer in Pembrokeshire, where it remained for a couple of days. The bird then relocated to South Slob, County Wexford, being present there from 27 November until 2 December. After a prolonged absence with no confirmed reports, the killdeer reappeared on 21 January at Ripley Farm Reservoir - after talking it over with Kev @kev07713, it was clear I couldn’t get there the following day, so he would head over with his wife Karen, while I hoped to make some time on Friday despite already having evening plans in Birmingham. They were successful in seeing the bird, as were our friends Bryan Manston and Adrian Sparrowhawk.

The killdeer is noticeably larger than a ringed plover and is instantly recognisable by its bold double breast band, and with a more upright stance. It has a distinctive rufous rump and upper tail, a feature that contrasts strongly with the darker central tail band and white tail sides. This warm, rusty-toned rump is particularly striking when the bird takes to the sky, or relocates short distances around the reservoir, and is a useful identification feature at range. Combined with the long, pointed wings and bold wing pattern, the rufous rump adds to the species’ unmistakable appearance in flight.

It is an exceptional vagrant to the UK and Ireland, with its normal range extending across much of North America, from southern Canada through the United States and into Central America. As a result, any appearance on this side of the Atlantic is considered a major event.

Records in the UK are extremely scarce, with most involving autumn or winter birds thought to have crossed the Atlantic on strong westerly systems. Many of these records relate to first-winter individuals, which are more prone to long-distance displacement. Sightings are often brief, although on rare occasions birds have lingered long enough to allow multiple observers to connect.

When present, killdeer typically favour open, muddy margins, reservoirs, coastal lagoons, and flooded fields, behaving much as they do in their native range by feeding actively and making short, rapid runs. Their striking plumage, particularly the double breast bands and bold facial pattern, makes them distinctive even among similar plovers. Sightings are generally short-lived, so visiting doesn’t guarantee seeing the bird - timing and luck are critical.

With reports of a scheduled shooting event on Saturday, visitors hoping to see the killdeer were eager to get views before any potential disturbance. I left home at 5.30am, aiming to arrive and walk the track to the reservoir by 8.00am. The forecast was mixed - I encountered rain on the journey, but it was dry on arrival, though I dressed expecting showers at some point.

As I set off from the car, I met a fellow birder, Lloyd, who had come down from Nottingham; this would be a lifer for him as well. We chatted along the track, which made the 15–20 minute walk pass quickly. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any birders coming the other way, suggesting the killdeer was still present.

We arrived to find a couple of dozen birders already gathered, all focused on the killdeer. One kindly shared a rough location, and before long we had our scopes trained and were on the bird. At first, it was just over the edge of the grass, with only its head visible, but it was easy to pick out, positioned just to the left of a small group of lapwings. Gradually, the killdeer moved fully onto the grass, feeding and running around, giving excellent views for everyone although very distant. I posted that I’d seen the bird on our friends’ Birding WhatsApp group and soon heard that a couple of others were about 30 minutes away - with the 20-minute walk from the car, that meant they would likely be joining me in around an hour. In the meantime, the killdeer preened and settled slightly out of view, giving only glimpses to those watching.

My friends arrived, and we watched the killdeer for about 10 minutes before it suddenly took to the air, heading west and high, accompanied by three lapwings. For a moment, there was concern that it might have gone for good, but word soon spread that it had done this before and would likely return. With good views already in the bag, we began to pack up, only to be interrupted when a white-tailed eagle was spotted at a great distance, gliding along the tops of the trees. Our views were fleeting, and within seconds the eagle dropped from sight before I had a chance to photograph it.

As expected, the killdeer returned after about 10 minutes, and the sun broke through the clouds. This seemed like a perfect opportunity for better photos, but with the sun directly behind the bird, it was mostly silhouetted. I took a couple of shots but decided there was little advantage in staying longer. As we started to leave, we paused briefly when a little gull was spotted on the far left of the reservoir.

I was in Birmingham at a show, simultaneously messaging with Kev about the possibility of a birding trip on Saturday morning. As has become almost a routine lately, the forecast was for wet and changeable conditions throughout the day, so we considered options that would give us a satisfying day out while remaining flexible to the weather. Eventually, we settled on meeting at 6.45am and heading into the Cotswolds to check out a finch flock that might include bramblings, a species neither of us had seen yet this year.

We arrived just as light was breaking, the first soft glow illuminating the fields. A few finches were already visible, and we were delighted to spot our first corn bunting of the year, perched quietly in a tree nearby. After about 15 minutes, the finches began dropping to the track where some seed had been scattered, feeding briefly before quickly moving off again. The flock grew larger and returned intermittently, though they remained very skittish despite our efforts to stay still and unobtrusive.

The flock was a limited mix of species: mainly chaffinches, a few corn buntings, and quite a few striking bramblings with their warm, rufous tones. Occasional dunnocks flitted among them, while blue tits and great tits added movement and colour to the scene. Watching the birds in the morning light, with the quiet Cotswold landscape around us, it was a wonderfully rewarding start to the day and even before the rain threatened to arrive.

With views secured, we decided it was time to move on to WWT Slimbridge, where a few interesting reports had been made and several potential species awaited that could be added to our year list. An added advantage of the site was the network of hides scattered throughout, offering shelter should the weather take a turn for the worse.

We arrived early and entered via the Members’ gate, as it was still before opening time, then made our way towards the Zeiss and Kingfisher hides. A flock of birds caught our attention, and we paused to watch for them dropping in, but they initially wheeled away and disappeared from view. The calls suggested they were entirely, or at least largely, siskins.

It wasn’t long before the flock reappeared and eventually settled in an alder tree to feed. We carefully scanned through the siskins, hoping to pick out a lesser redpoll, but none could be found.

Off to our right, an unexpected sight drew our attention: a great white egret perched high in the branches of a nearby tree. While it’s fairly common to see little or cattle Egrets roosting high like this, it’s behaviour we’ve rarely encountered in great whites. On reflection, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

We left the area around the wildfowl collections and passed through the first gate into the trees, pausing to check whether a water rail might be feeding in a spot where we’d seen one on a recent visit - still missing from our year lists, and once again not obliging.

As we continued on, a treecreeper suddenly popped into view ahead of Kev. I stopped in the hope of grabbing a photo, while Kev carried on towards the Kingfisher Hide. A warden with a camera paused alongside me, clearly with the same idea in mind.

I caught up with Kev in the Kingfisher Hide, where he’d been scanning the surrounding fields and trees for anything unusual, though without success so far. I joined him but drew a blank as well. Looking back down the field we’d walked parallel to earlier, I eventually picked out a single white-fronted goose among the Canada geese. There were also two obvious farmyard geese present, which I’m confident are long-stayers, having previously served as useful markers when viewing two pink-footed geese earlier in the month.

Kev then moved over to the window overlooking the feeders in the tree, following a warden’s tip that a great spotted woodpecker had visited earlier. He quickly called me over after noticing movement in the stream below - a water rail. It slipped out of view before I reached the window, but around 30 seconds later it reappeared, walking across and then down the stream. It was a very welcome sighting, and one we’re always pleased to enjoy, given how secretive this species is and how rarely it shows itself, especially when calling.

With no further birds of note, we moved back down to the Van de Bovenkamp Hide and began scanning from there, working through the geese ahead of us and to our right, all at some distance. Kev suddenly stopped and said he had a juvenile peregrine in his view at 12 o'clock and within seconds I had it in my binoculars and camera. The bird was hunting through the geese, presumably looking for an opportunity, perhaps a lapwing breaking from cover.

Peregrines are often seen hunting over flooded fields and along the estuary margins, sometimes from high vantage points such as the Estuary Tower. Most encounters involve a bird powering low and fast over flocks of dunlin, lapwing, teal or wigeon, with any attack over in seconds, a sudden sweep that can cause mass panic even if there is no kill. Even without striking, their presence creates instant chaos: lapwings lift en masse, wader flocks tighten, and geese become visibly edgy.

On this occasion no attack followed, and the peregrine eventually flew onto the face of the ridge, disappearing over the far side and out of view.

Returning to the geese, Kev picked out a group of three and then a further five tundra bean geese feeding among the Canada, barnacle and greylags. There are still good numbers around and we’ve been fortunate to catch up with them at several sites this winter. Although distant, they showed well through the scope and confirmed that they weren’t accompanied by the two pink-footed geese we’d seen on our previous visit.

Tight against the hide window, I heard the calls of common cranes moments before they came into view - first two birds, then the group swelling to nine. Common Cranes are very often seen in groups/multiples of three because that’s the classic family unit: two adults (a bonded pair) and one juvenile (occasionally two, but often only one survives the first year). Juveniles stay with their parents for 10–12 months, migrating and wintering with them, so through autumn and winter you’ll frequently see tight groups of three feeding and moving together.

We moved on to the Zeiss Hide and took in the views across the grasses and reeds but added nothing further of note. Despite Heather England’s regular postings of bittern photos, our luck didn’t extend that far. In the pool to our left, however, we watched another great white egret slowly stalking the water’s edge.

We retired to the Visitor Centre for a breakfast roll before packing up and heading on to Burnham-on-Sea, hoping to catch up with the wintering German Kentish plover, a bird that has become a regular in recent years. We’d left it a little late and the water level wasn’t on our side, still falling towards low tide; we always feel that arriving an hour or two on a rising high tide gives the best chance.

We arrived in a light drizzle and chatted with another birder who had been earlier in the morning and hadn’t seen the plover but had returned for another look. He headed off to park, and we didn’t see him again. Scanning the beach, we picked up oystercatchers, dunlin, avocets, curlew, a single ringed plover and a grey plover, and as we worked along the esplanade it was largely these species that continued to turn up.

We also began scanning Stert Island, off Burnham-on-Sea, a low-lying tidal island at the mouth of the River Parrett in Bridgwater Bay; largely saltmarsh and mudflat and regularly cut off at high tide, but often holding good numbers of waders. At first I assumed the largest flock was dunlin, but Kev pointed out that while Dunlin formed the leading edge, the birds behind were knot, with a few grey plovers mixed in.

The rain grew heavier as we worked our way along much of the beach normally favoured by the Kentish plover. Realising we weren’t going to find it, we decided to call it a day. On the way back, we considered a stop at Oldbury Power Station, but with the rain still falling, we opted to give it a miss.

Year list: 138.

Eyebrook Reservoir & Summer Leys :: 29 November 2025

What’s going on with the weather lately? On Friday, I was working in Sheffield and later drove my daughter home from Leeds, where she’d been working. During the journey, I was chatting with Kev @kev07713 about where we might go birding on Saturday. More bands of rain were rolling through, with heavy downpours forecast, so we considered whether we should even bother heading out at all - perhaps we'd take the weekend off? Eventually, we settled on making a trip to Eyebrook Reservoir to try our luck at finding the American wigeon reported there recently. We agreed to delay setting off until first light so we could gauge the weather, and after a quick WhatsApp exchange, we were on the road by 8.30am.

When we arrived, it was still raining, so we scanned the water from the Stoke Dry End, staying in the car and wiping the inside of the door as the rain blew in. From there, we watched a variety of gulls: black-headed, common, and lesser black-backed - along with lapwings gathered on the spit. We then spotted one golden plover, followed shortly by two more. On the distant hillside, three hares, a few pheasants, and two greylag geese were visible, and perched in a tree by the water’s edge were two rather bedraggled red kites. The reservoir held plenty of ducks, and we noted tufted ducks, wigeon, teal, great crested grebes, and coot, with seven pintails flying overhead.

As we made our way along the perimeter road, we encountered another birder coming from the opposite direction. He told us the American wigeon had just been reported on Rare Bird Alert (RBA) near “The Island”, a well-known spot for scarce visitors and where the bird was seen the day before - nothing on BirdGuides though. With the bird having moved around the reservoir recently, no area could be ruled out. We headed to "The Island" and scanned toward The Point and along the shoreline and bay to "Sam’s Dyke" but saw nothing unusual, other than a couple of Egyptian geese. Thinking it might be in “Mucky Bay” on the far side of the island, we began moving in that direction. We were joined by the birder we’d spoken to and another who had arrived from the other direction. Both were puzzled about who had reported the sighting, as they believed they’d been the only people on site for over an hour and a half. We scanned "Mucky Bay" but found only the same species as before, along with two drake red-crested pochards and a single female.

I kept scanning the area while Kev doubled back along the road. The other two birders headed in the opposite direction, giving us coverage along the shoreline. After a good twenty minutes, I checked BirdGuides and saw that the American wigeon had been reported further along the road toward "Sam’s Dyke", the direction the other two had gone; perhaps they’d located it. I called Kev to say I was heading that way, and he said he'd follow.

When I caught up with the two birders, they confirmed they hadn’t posted the sighting and were again puzzled about who had. The location on BirdGuides also differed from the earlier RBA report, suggesting it hadn’t simply been copied across. We began scanning the area.

We picked out a bird on the bank with a noticeably different head pattern, although it was only clear when the light caught it just right - a broad cream crown and cheek, crossed by a sweeping green stripe through the eye. It stood out, but viewing it in such poor light was challenging, even through the scope. Further down the shoreline was a larger group of ducks with numerous wigeon, but they were too distant, and the conditions made it impossible to work through them properly, even with our scopes.

We continued to track the bird as it moved along the shoreline feeding with other wigeon, until the entire group was flushed onto the water by an unseen adversary. We hoped the bird might be our target, but Kev was never convinced - it was a strange individual - the full detail only became clear when I could brighten the photos at home.

The two species readily hybridise, and wild hybrids between American and Eurasian wigeon have been recorded. Some hybrids approximate “American-type” more than “Eurasian-type”; others lean toward Eurasian - studies of 21 hybrid males showed 11 different appearance variants. Because of all this, many of the “American Wigeon” reported in the UK or Europe may in fact be hybrids (or misidentified Eurasian wigeon) rather than pure American wigeon - especially if away from known migration hotspots. Because of the wide variation between hybrids, no single trait is definitive - a combination of features is often used to reach a tentative ID.

What we do know is that from photographs from Alan Boddington (here) and Toby Carter (here) there had been a postive American wigeon sighting on previous days, and this doesn't appear to be the same individual. A great white egret stalked the close shoreline.

We continued our search but didn't find any sign of the bird photographed earlier in the week. As I write this it appears that the wigeon wasn't recorded at all on Sunday.

The weather began to close in, and a mist rolled toward us, making viewing increasingly difficult. We soon packed up and started our journey home, with a stop at Wildlife BCN Summer Leys - it would have been rude not to. The sun had broken through but was already sinking low in the sky, so we decided to just visit the Pioneer Hide, nearest to the car park - the hide was empty and we saw a sparrowhawk being mobbed by a crow over the car park.

The water level had risen considerably since our last visit, and the scrape was now completely submerged, leaving no islands for waders to feed. Most of the birds were on the main water body, except for a few coot, tufted ducks, and moorhens. Several rabbits frolicked along the far shore, to the right of the double-decker (Paul Britten) hide.

I settled at the window, gazing out over the scrape and beyond, while Kev scanned the main water body. At a distance, I spotted a large brown bird; through the binoculars, I could make out it was a bittern. I called Kev over just as the bird dropped into the reeds. Ten minutes later, I caught sight of a cream-crowned marsh harrier, though Kev didn’t manage to see it. He joined me at the window, thinking he’d heard a kingfisher, but despite our efforts, we couldn’t locate it. Shortly after, a water rail called nearby; this time it was me who missed it, and it vanished into the dense reeds before I could get a view.

Flocks of golden plover and lapwings then took to the sky. The lapwings eventually settled on the island edges over the far reeds, while the golden plover circled for a while, formed into a “V,” and departed. There was no obvious cause for their disturbance although a little later, a male sparrowhawk flew through, and a kestrel was seen feeding to the left.

As the light began to fade, a starling murmuration started to take shape, though it was modest in size. It did, however, catch the attention of the marsh harrier, which reappeared, soon followed by a peregrine. The two raptors clearly weren’t pleased with each other’s presence; after a few stoops and aerial dives, the peregrine departed to the right.

To the right of our hide, on the water's edge, the water rail appeared very briefly but immediately scampered off and out of sight. It was now past sunset - a few birders/toggers had joined us in the hide and we all departed with little light left to see the birds never mind take a photograph.

Year list: 248.

Carsington Water & 2-day break :: 08-11 November 2025

Carsington Water is one of those places where a simple walk can quickly become a memorable birding adventure. The mix of open water, woodland edges, reedbeds, and rolling Derbyshire countryside makes it a magnet for birds - whether you're spotting familiar species or hoping for something more unusual.

The main reservoir viewpoint is often alive with activity. Great crested grebes gliding in close, tufted ducks diving in synchronised rhythms, and cormorants perch with wings outstretched like patient sentinels. Kev @kev07713 and I were surprised by how low the water level was, with wide stretches of dry mud around the edges and the birds pushed out toward the deeper centre. Even so, a few people were still out on boats, fishing.

But some of the best moments happen away from the crowds. The hides around the wildlife centre offer quieter encounters: in winter, flocks of wigeon and teal gather on the water, and if you're lucky, you might spot a visiting goldeneye or even a great northern diver.

Carsington Water has a habit of surprising its visitors - the reservoir’s ever-changing birdlife makes every trip feel fresh. With good paths, welcoming hides, and wide-open skies, Carsington is the sort of place that reminds you to slow down, look twice, and let the natural world reveal itself, one bird at a time.

We first stopped at the Millfield's Picnic area where some woodland species are drawn out to the feeders when food sources become depleted in the surrounding woodland - species such as marsh and willow tits. We paused here, filling up feeder that had been attacked by the tits and finches visiting regularly. We could hear jays calling from distant oak trees and had two ravens fly overhead - we returned our attention to the three trees in front of us.

We picked out a distant flock of linnets and watched meadow pipits feeding on the exposed mud and rocks, but our attention quickly shifted when a great spotted woodpecker dropped into the right-hand tree, scattering the tits and finches that had been busy on the fat balls and suet pellets.

We continued watching and waiting, now spotting coal tits joining the blue and great tits in the trees, with long-tailed tits flitting quietly behind. A couple of birds dropped into a tree to our left and into the hedgerow, and we could see they were siskins - a male and a female. They lingered for less than a minute. More linnets passed overhead, and the Merlin app reported a hawfinch nearby, though we never saw or identified it by call.

Kev walked along the path to get a wider view of the water, and as he passed under one of the trees, a handful of siskins broke cover and vanished behind a small copse. On his return, we briefly caught sight of some lesser redpolls landing in the top of a tree within the copse, but they stayed only about twenty seconds.

We lingered a while longer, but eventually decided that lovely as it was to watch these birds, we would try to track down the four twite reported here the previous day, thought to be associating with a linnet flock. We jumped in the car and drove to the main Visitor Centre and car park, heading toward the area indicated on BirdGuides.

From the vantage points we could see wigeon, teal, cormorants, and some geese, but only a couple of meadow pipits and pied wagtails. We circled around, stopping frequently to scan the exposed mud, rocky outcrops, and water edges, but there was no sign of anything unusual.

Following a grassy track, we heard the soft call of a bullfinch. Kev quickly located them, a male and female feeding in the low scrub. The male perched on a distant plant, while the female stayed further left, giving Kev a better view.

A greater scaup had also been reported, and through our scopes we thought we could make it out in the bay farthest from our position, only for it to drift left and vanish from view, frustratingly out of reach. We moved on and spotted a great white egret stalking along the water’s edge. Though distant, it seemed intent on a particular spot. It paused briefly - just ten seconds - before striking, not just gracefully but with full force, plunging deep into the pool.

We continued along the shoreline, spotting a few meadow pipits before finally noticing an increasing number of linnets. For the next thirty minutes, we watched them feeding among the long grass and rocks, but there was still no sign of any twite - just the familiar meadow pipits and linnets.

Our patience was tested when three people strolled across the exposed shore, sending the flock into the air. We waited for their return and carefully worked through the birds again, only for a dog walker to appear and flush them once more. Eventually, we circled back and found the flock moving along another section of shore. We worked through the birds one last time but still drew a blank. Accepting defeat, we made our way back to the car.

We decided to grab some lunch before heading up to the Sheepwash car park, planning to visit the hide. There, we met another birder and chose to join him along the track to see if we could locate the scaup. Along the way, we spotted goldeneye, tufted ducks, wigeon, teal, and a large group of pochards, but there was still no sign of our target.

On the way back, we paused to look across the bay and were delighted to spot a peregrine perched on a narrow strip of shoreline. With the sun low in the sky, the scene was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. We'd walk back to the car and make our way home.

I had planned to take the week off, and with Charlotte’s birthday falling mid-week, we decided to spend a couple of nights away in Bournemouth. On the way, we stopped in Lymington to visit the Normandy Lagoon, hoping to catch up with the drake long-tailed duck. Planning to have lunch at the Yacht Haven, we parked there and set off to explore the area.

A light breeze kept us on the lower path, and soon we were passing the pools surrounding the main water body. Redshanks and teal moved through the shallows, while a greenshank fed constantly, oblivious to our presence and getting reasonably close.

We made our way around the edge of the lagoon and were greeted by impressive flocks of dunlin, wheeling across the water before settling and then lifting off again in a constant swirl. Redshanks moved through the shallows, while black-tailed godwits fed methodically nearby. A lone spotted redshank kept appearing and disappearing in the distance. A group of dunlins finally settled on a spit opposite us, and I stopped to snap a few photos.

Scanning the water’s edge, I spotted a grey plover alongside two ringed plovers, hunkered down against the wind. At the back of the pool, even more black-tailed godwits and lapwings were scattered across the shallows, joined by an astonishing nineteen spoonbills - more than I’ve ever seen here before. Strangely, not all of them were asleep, which is usually the case when I encounter a large number together.

We made our way to the far side of the lagoon and as we scanned I picked out the drake long-tailed duck diving constantly and staying under for long periods. Long-tailed ducks are remarkable divers, often considered among the most accomplished of the sea ducks. Unlike many other ducks that feed on the surface, these birds spend a significant portion of their time underwater, diving for invertebrates, molluscs, crustaceans, and small fish. They are capable of impressive dives, frequently reaching 20–60 meters (65–200 feet), with some recorded diving over 60 meters. Their dives usually last between 20 and 90 seconds, though they can occasionally stay underwater longer when pursuing prey. With this pool being relatively shallow it was impressive how long it stayed under.

Their diving style is often described as active and deliberate, contrasting with the shallower, dabbling dives of other ducks - often diving repeatedly in the same area, surfacing briefly between dives. In winter, they are known to feed more frequently in sheltered bays, lagoons (such as here), or estuaries where molluscs and crustaceans are abundant.

True to their name, the males sport long, elegant tail feathers that trail behind them like a graceful ribbon in flight or on the water. Their plumage is particularly eye-catching: in winter, males display a bold contrast of black, white, and chestnut.

While down in Bournemouth we tried to find a Pallas's warbler around Durlston Country Park but delayed by rain and then search for an hour and a half we eventually gave up and repaired to RSPB Arne for lunch where a sparrowhawk was cruising and being mobbed by finches over the Visitor Centre. We made our way to the Middlebere Lookout and along the way spotted a single greenshank cutting along the water. We chatted to a couple on the hide and enjoyed black-tailed godwits, pintails (some juvenile males included), wigeon, teal, shelduck, cormorants and egrets - but nothing of particular note.

On our return we stopped to see a couple of Sika deer in the trees and made our way back to our hotel for dinner.

On the way home, we debated what to do and noticed that a penduline tit had been reported at Northwick Warth, Avon - a species I’d tried to see several times before but never managed to catch. It was quite a detour, but we decided to go for it and soon met up with a couple of friends (Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston) who had travelled from Banbury and Didcot. They told us the bird had been seen at 7.00 am., but not since. Oh dear ...

Still hopeful, we joined the handful of other birders scanning the reedbed, but all we could find were stonechats, robins, wrens, blue tits, and a restless kestrel moving around the area. We waited for over two hours, but with the wind picking up -so strong that the Severn Bridge had been closed - we eventually accepted that a sighting was unlikely. Another failed attempt.

We headed home to focus on Charlotte’s birthday and finish wrapping the last of her presents.

Year list: 245.