Eastleach Martin & Churn, Blewbury :: 20 & 25 July 2026

Only two weeks ago I made the long journey to Crail, Fife, to see what was only the second long-tailed shrike ever recorded in Britain. In my recent blog I wrote that "the long-tailed shrike was the sort of bird I may never have the opportunity to see in Britain again." How quickly things can change! Here we are just a fortnight later, and another, completely different long-tailed shrike turned up just 45 minutes from home on the Gloucestershire/Oxfordshire border. For me, it was an unexpected second chance with a species I never imagined I'd encounter in Britain, let alone two within the space of two weeks.

What makes the story even more remarkable is that the Eastleach Downs bird wasn't a newly arrived rarity. It later emerged that it had actually been present between 8 and 16 July after being photographed by a member of the public. Its presence was announced on 18 July and when a search of the area was made, the bird was relocated and reported on Sunday 19 July.

The discovery revealed one of the most extraordinary coincidences in recent British birding. For more than a week, Britain almost certainly hosted two long-tailed shrikes simultaneously - an astonishing situation considering there had previously been just a single accepted British record.

Unsurprisingly, the delayed announcement has prompted plenty of discussion. Nevertheless, it's hard not to wonder what might have been. Had the Gloucestershire bird been identified earlier, birders would have had the unprecedented choice of two long-tailed shrikes in Britain at the same time, with many opting for the far more accessible location.

Whether it was an extraordinary coincidence or simply one of birding's wonderful twists of fate, July 2026 will surely be remembered as the month Britain unexpectedly hosted two long-tailed shrikes at the same time. It's also a timely reminder that rare birds are undoubtedly being overlooked every year, only coming to light through chance - or, perhaps more often, never being recognised at all.

On Sunday morning, just after 11.20am, the news broke on BirdGuides that the long-tailed shrike had been relocated. Barely ten minutes later, Kev @kev07713 gave me a call to say that he and his wife were already on their way and asked if I fancied joining them. Having only recently seen the Crail bird, I decided to give the opening-day crowds a miss and planned instead to visit on the Monday, hoping things would be a little quieter once the initial (weekend) rush was over.

As expected, hundreds of birders descended on Eastleach Martin throughout the day. With the viewing area accessed via a narrow country lane during the height of the harvest season, there were understandable concerns about congestion, blocked access for farm machinery and the fire risk posed by so many vehicles parked alongside dry crops.

Thankfully, a local farmer came to the rescue by opening one of his fields for parking, with donations from each car going towards conservation projects. The arrangement provided a safe and well-organised solution for visiting birders, prevented the narrow lanes and verges from becoming obstructed, and allowed farming operations to continue with minimal disruption. It was an excellent example of the local birding community and landowners working together to manage an exceptional rarity while respecting the needs of a working farm.

So, on Monday morning I was up early and made my way down to the site, passing a long line of birders already in place, many of whom had already enjoyed views of the bird. I pulled into the car park and stopped for a quick chat with Richard Tyler, who was kindly manning the gate. I didn’t stop for long as I was keen to get onto the shrike, but while we talked a few grey partridges scuttled around in the field opposite, providing a nice distraction before the main event.

I then walked the short five-minute stroll along the lane and joined the growing line of birders gathered at the viewing area. The latest news was that the bird was probably on the far side of a large bramble patch and currently out of sight, leaving everyone waiting patiently for it to appear. I looked round and noticed a familiar birder just along from me - it was David Wall - we chatted as we watched and waited.

A small group of birders had positioned themselves at the opposite end of the hedge, and I thought they would have the better chance of seeing the shrike from there. The two viewing areas were linked by a public footpath, which was how this small group had reached their position. Rather than approaching from the lane where I was standing, they had walked in across the fields from the lane beyond, giving them access to the far side of the hedge. Quite where they had managed to park, though, was anyone's guess given the instructions to only park in the field.

After about 15 minutes the shrike flew up onto the top of the brambles, giving me my first view and though distant, I had my scope, so range wasn't an issue. I watched as it hopped along the top of the bramble patch, dropped down to the ground briefly, then climbed back up before disappearing behind the dense vegetation and out of sight for those of us watching from the lane. Those at the opposite end of the hedge, however, appeared to be able to keep it in view.

About ten minutes later the shrike reappeared on top of the brambles, but after less than a minute it flew to a bush almost directly in front of the birders at the far end of the hedge. They must have enjoyed superb views. Although still distant from our position, the bird was now much more exposed and gave good scope views as it then gradually worked its way along the hedge in our direction.

As it disappeared from view at the far end, a couple of birders dropped onto the public footpath and followed its progress. The shrike then slipped back into the hedge and was briefly lost to everyone before emerging again on the opposite side, much closer to the footpath. Eventually it worked close enough for a few photographs, although producing anything worthwhile wasn't easy as the increasing heat haze was already beginning to soften the view.

Before long, some of the birders from the far side made their way down the footpath to join us on the lane. Not long afterwards the shrike worked its way back towards the opposite end of the hedge once again, suggesting it might be quite a while before it came close to us for another opportunity.

We continued to watch the shrike as it worked along the hedge and out into the field, feeding throughout, but it never came any closer to our position. After another half an hour or so, several birders decided they had seen enough and headed back up the public footpath towards their cars, which were parked on the lane beyond. As they approached the area where the shrike was perched, it flew across to the far hedgerow and settled in full view. Rather than continuing on and giving the bird the space to resume feeding along the hedges, the group stopped on the footpath and spent the next twenty minutes watching it from there. Inevitably, this prevented the shrike from working its way back towards the rest of us waiting on the lane.

Eventually I grew tired of this, so I decided to head back to the car park. On the walk back I passed Sandra and Adrian Bletchly, who were making their way towards the viewing area, and stopped briefly for a chat before continuing on my way.

Wednesday arrived and Kev and I decided to make a return visit to RSPB Freiston Shore, as reports of the pectoral sandpipers had continued to come through. We checked the tide times and headed back, although on arrival it was clear that there were fewer waders on the pools than during our previous visit.

This time we didn't hang around the car park area and made our way straight to the viewing screen over the reservoir pool. The number of waders was still relatively low, but there were plenty of wagtails around, mostly yellow wagtails. One individual caught our attention and seemed to be a blue-headed subspecies of yellow wagtail.

Among the other birds present were good numbers of ringed and little ringed plovers, along with a handful of black-tailed godwits. There were no greenshanks on the pools this time, but with high tide still a couple of hours away, we weren't too concerned by the continued absence of the pectoral sandpipers. As the incoming tide pushed more waders onto the reserve, we remained hopeful they would eventually appear.

A little later I noticed a sandpiper drop in beside the track. After watching for a while, I wandered over to investigate and found it was a green sandpiper, a welcome addition to the morning's sightings.

On the walk back I was alerted by the unmistakable jangling call of a corn bunting. After a short search I eventually picked it out, perched obligingly in the open, allowing me to get close enough for a photograph before it flew off.

From the screen we watched as the pools very gradually filling with returning oystercatchers and black-tailed godwits, the latter eventually numbering at least 80 birds on our pool and the oystercatchers on the lagoon behind. Around a dozen little egrets moved around the reserve, occasionally dropping into the pool directly in front of us to preen along the opposite shoreline.

From time to time we stepped out from behind the screen to watch the activity in the grassland behind us, where swallows hawked low over the fields, meadow pipits flitted and hovered, and a variety of butterflies added a splash of colour while we waited for the tide to push more waders onto the reserve.

Despite waiting for another few hours, we eventually had to admit defeat and leave without seeing our target bird. Perhaps we should have made the trip to Keyhaven to look for the other pectoral sandpiper instead, but that's birding - you can't get them all.

The following Saturday, Kev and I arranged to leave at the rather antisocial time of 4.30am to drive down to Churn in the hope of seeing the Montagu's harrier that had been reported the previous day. I joked that we'd arrive at 5.30am, see the bird by 6.30am and be back home in time for breakfast at 7.30am. I'd seen my first Montagu's harrier at the end of June last year (report here) but that was a ring-tail while this is a first-summer male.

The Montagu's harrier is one of Britain's rarest breeding birds of prey and is an elegant, long-winged harrier that breeds mainly across southern and eastern Europe before migrating to sub-Saharan Africa for the winter. In Britain it has always been scarce, with only a handful of breeding pairs in most years, usually nesting in cereal crops where nests require careful protection from harvesting and disturbance. Recent years have seen encouraging conservation success through close cooperation between farmers, volunteers and the RSPB, but the species remains one of our rarest breeding raptors.

The bird at Churn is a first-summer male, a plumage that lacks the full crisp appearance of an adult male. Although already showing the characteristic pale grey body, black wing tips and graceful, buoyant flight of the species, it retains some immature feathers, giving it a slightly less clean-cut appearance than an older bird. It spends much of its time perched on posts or the ground, or quartering low over the crops and rough grassland, using its slow, elastic wingbeats and occasional glides to search for prey before suddenly dropping into the vegetation.

We arrived to find a couple of birders already parked up and made our way to the area where the harrier had been quartering the evening before. Stopping at a concrete pad, we joined another birder (Jake) who confirmed there had been no sign of it so far.

A few minutes later Kev's phone rang. It was Ewan Urquhart (@Stormvogel99), who, as it transpired, was the birder we could see further down the track. We watched for a while before Ewan walked back up to join us, explaining that the light was much better from his position, where the rising sun wasn't shining directly into your eyes as it was from where we were standing. As more birders gradually arrived, Ewan and several others headed back down the track to continue their vigil from the supposedly more favourable viewpoint.

While we waited, there was still plenty to keep us entertained. Buzzards, red kites, kestrels and even a hobby were all seen, but the Montagu's harrier remained elusive. Around us, linnets, stonechats, goldfinches and corn buntings called from the scrub and hedgerows, while deer, hares and a fox moved through the fields in front of us. At least one quail was also calling from the field behind, adding another layer to the morning's soundtrack.

I recognised one of the other birders as Harry, who runs the YouTube channel Winging it with Harry, and who is also undertaking a big year attempt. He mentioned that he generally tries to avoid birding at weekends, but this was a special exception as the early start meant he could get home before most people had even started their day.

At 6.39am, Jake, the birder standing nearby, suddenly spoke up. He had turned around and been scanning in the opposite direction and had picked out the harrier perched on a fence line on the distant horizon, at the top of the slope. Through our scopes we could make out the bird clearly, although to the naked eye it was little more than a speck in the distance. Nine minutes later than I'd suggested!

Photography at this distance would be challenging and so I opted to try for a video through my scope - imagine the view the chap in the video would have had if only he'd looked up!

The birders further down the track soon made their way back to join us as the Montagu’s harrier continued to sit and preen on the fence post. Eventually, it dropped from its perch and flew along the slope, occasionally breaking the skyline as it moved across the hillside.

It paused several times, landing briefly on fence posts and on the ground, but it remained distant throughout. I attempted a few record shots, and while the scope views were good, photography was always going to be difficult. Even at 6.40 am, the heat haze was already surprisingly noticeable, creating a shimmer that made capturing a sharp image of such a distant bird a real challenge.

After about 20 minutes the harrier flew along the ridge and over the top and out of view - we wouldn't see it again.

We decided to try and locate the various quail that were calling around the site and joined a group of birders over the bridge where a field of barley was being harvested. Beyond the bridge, a combine harvester was busy cutting the barley, a reminder that this was very much a working agricultural landscape, with farming activity continuing alongside the excitement of a rare bird.

The combine worked steadily through the barley, its grain tank gradually filling before a a waiting track vehicle and trailer pulled alongside. With the auger extended, the harvested grain was transferred smoothly from the combine into the trailer while both machines continued moving slowly through the field. Once full, the tracked vehicle carried the load across the field to the edge where we stood and another tractor and trailer were waiting. The barley was then transferred again, this time into the road-going trailer ready for transport away from the field. It was an impressive operation to watch, with several machines working in harmony to keep the harvest moving efficiently.

We waited in the hope that the harvesting operation would eventually flush the quail from the remaining crop, but for a long while it was other wildlife that provided the entertainment. Flocks of corn buntings, numbering more than 75 birds, along with skylarks, red-legged partridges and grey partridges were repeatedly disturbed by the advancing machinery. Roe deer and hares also appeared, moving through the shrinking cover as the combine continued its steady progress.

Time passed, and we continued to watch and wait, hoping that the next pass through the crop might finally reveal an elusive quail. A hare suddenly broke cover and came bounding towards us, making a close pass as it searched for somewhere to hide. It paused briefly, clearly unsettled by the lack of cover following the harvest, before eventually finding a route to safety and disappearing.

Kev thought he saw a quail drop out from the remaining cover as the final passes of the combine were made, but unfortunately, we couldn't get a definite identification. Once the harvest was complete and the machinery had moved on, we walked along the footpath, listening carefully as the quail continued to call from the field.

Despite the stubble now being short and offering little cover, we still couldn't locate the bird. It remained frustratingly elusive, giving away its presence only through its distinctive call from somewhere within the field.

We'd spent way longer than we'd expected here but had a great day birding and enjoying the countryside and farm activity - time to head home.

Kev returned the following evening with his wife to see the Montagu's harrier again, while I decided to make another visit on Tuesday morning. The forecast suggested cooler, cloudier conditions, which I hoped might reduce the heat haze and provide a better opportunity for photography.

I arrived to find a handful of birders gathered on the bridge, where the elevated position provided a wide view across the landscape. After spotting Graham Jepson walking along the track, I decided to relocate and, when he stopped, I caught up with him. We waited together, gradually being joined by the birders from the bridge and others arriving for the morning watch.

Once again, there was plenty to keep us entertained, with buzzards, red kites, kestrels and red-legged partridges all noted before, at around 6.30am, one of the birders picked out the Montagu's harrier. Conditions were certainly better than my previous visit, with less heat haze and slightly closer views, although it was still very much a bird best appreciated through a scope rather than through a camera lens.

The harrier quartered the field for a while before eventually disappearing behind a small copse of trees. It was around another 30 minutes before it was relocated, again at distance, as it continued hunting across the slope. This time, however, we watched as it dropped to the ground and appeared to catch some prey. It then flew a few tens of metres before dropping back down again.

Graham, myself and another birder decided to walk along the track in the hope of locating the bird on the ground and perhaps getting the chance to watch it take off. Before we reached the area where we thought it had landed, the harrier was already back in the air, working its way towards where we had come from. I held back slightly and followed its progress as it eventually reached the horse gallops and jumps, where it dropped out of view once again.

After another 15 minutes or so, the bird took to the air once more, flying up and over the ridge before disappearing from sight. With that, it was time to head home for breakfast. Before leaving, I had a quick chat with Bryan Manston, who had also joined the group and had managed to enjoy some additional views of this superb bird.

Year list: 271.

Northumberland :: 9-11 June 2026

With the breeding season underway and all the terns having returned to the UK, it was the perfect time to head to Northumberland to see the roseate terns on Coquet Island. Some previous attempts had been thwarted by the Covid pandemic, and on another occasion, we had visited too late and missed the puffins altogether.

This year, however, we arranged another trip with our friends Kev @kev07713 and Karen Heath @karenheath62, spending a couple of nights in the area and booking the Puffin Cruises Seabird Special 1½-hour trip, departing at 10.00am on the Wednesday morning. With rain forecast for later in the afternoon, the morning sailing promised ideal conditions and the opportunity for excellent views of the island's spectacular seabird colonies.

One of the keys to the trip's success was the timing, as Charlotte was especially keen to see puffins, one of her favourite birds. If we would be seeing those, all the other birdwatching would simply be a bonus and go off without a hitch.

We set off just before 6.00am for the journey north-east, making an early start to maximise our time in Northumberland. We stopped at a pre-arranged service station to meet up with Kev and Karen for breakfast, giving us the chance to catch up and discuss the plans for the next couple of days. After a short break, we were soon back on the road and heading towards Druridge Pools, eager to begin our birdwatching break.

Situated just north of Cresswell on the Druridge Bay coastline, the 24-hectare reserve is managed by Northumberland Wildlife Trust and is a remarkable conservation success story, having been transformed from a former opencast coal mine into a thriving wetland habitat.

The reserve consists of a large freshwater lake, shallow pools and wet grazing meadows, all linked by easy walking paths and a pair of bird hides. The varied habitats attract an impressive range of species throughout the year, with surrounding scrub and dunes providing additional habitat for passerines and migrants.

During migration, Druridge Pools regularly attracts scarce and rare birds, earning it a reputation as one of the North East's top birding hotspots. Species such as spoonbills, wood sandpipers, garganey and water pipits are regular visitors, while the reserve has produced an impressive list of rarities over the years.

Even without a rarity present, the reserve offered great wildlife watching. With the dunes and beach of Druridge Bay just a short walk away, it was an ideal place to spend a few hours exploring.

We drove along the access lane to the turning circle at the end and parked up, already enjoying sightings of stonechats, corn buntings, reed buntings, and several other species along the way. After leaving the car, we initially headed away from the pools, following the path alongside the surrounding farmland before eventually making our way back to explore the wet meadows and pools themselves.

From the first hide, we enjoyed a panoramic view across the reserve, where snipe, avocets, sand martins and redshanks were all on show. The pools also held a variety of geese and ducks, including a couple of lingering wigeon that were somewhat unexpected for the time of year, along with three barnacle geese adding to our growing list.

After an enjoyable spell at the first hide, we moved on to the second, which offers a more central view across the pools. Another birder was already there with his scope and told us that a garganey had been reported at the end of the reserve we had just left, although viewing conditions were said to be better from this hide. Despite a search, neither he nor we could locate the bird, and after a while he moved on.

The number of avocets increase as our wider vantage point revealed more of the shallow bays, while a couple of stunning summer-plumaged black-tailed godwits showed well through the scope. As we continued scanning, Kev picked out a pink-footed goose, another unexpected bird for the time of year, although it soon wandered behind a fence line and disappeared from view.

Three curlews were roosting against a stand of reeds, while a family of grey herons stood almost motionless along the far edge of the wetland. Kev continued to work his scope across the pools before calling me over to look at a gull he couldn't quite identify - at first glance it was asleep, but when it shifted position just off the water's edge amongst a gathering of mostly black-headed gulls, its identity became clear - it was a little gull, a welcome addition to the day's sightings.

Leaving the hide behind, we made our way down onto the beach where sandwich terns, herring gulls and gannets were feeding just offshore. The gannets repeatedly dropped in to join the gathering gulls on the water, but rather than performing their spectacular high-speed plunge dives, they simply lifted a metre or two above the surface before diving back in after their prey. A couple of cormorants were also feeding successfully nearby, although each time they or the gannets surfaced with a catch they were immediately mobbed by the ever-opportunistic gulls hoping to snatch an easy meal.

By now the sun was shining and the temperature was climbing, providing a welcome contrast to the cooler start to the day. While the girls relaxed on the rocks enjoying the warmth and the view, Kev and I continued scanning the sea, picking out guillemots as they flew low across the waves or sat feeding on the surface offshore.

By now we had racked up a respectable list of around 50 bird species, but with lunchtime passing by it felt like the right time to move on. With appetites beginning to grow, we packed up and headed for our next destination, Hauxley Nature Reserve, where we could enjoy a bite to eat before continuing our birdwatching. This is one of the jewels of the Northumberland coast and a site that has become one of the region's premier wildlife destinations. Managed by Northumberland Wildlife Trust, the reserve occupies land that was once part of an opencast coal mine before being transformed into a mosaic of freshwater pools, reedbeds, grassland and woodland. Today it attracts around 140 bird species each year, with its proximity to the coast adding even greater variety during migration and the winter months.

A well-maintained circular trail links a series of hides overlooking the pools, providing excellent opportunities to watch wildfowl, waders and passerines at close range. The reserve is also well known for breeding tree sparrows.

At the heart of the reserve sits the Hauxley Wildlife Discovery Centre, an award-winning eco-friendly building constructed using sustainable materials, including straw-bale walls. Large panoramic windows overlook the main lake, allowing visitors to enjoy the wildlife even while taking a break indoors. The centre also houses the popular Lookout Café, serving drinks, lunches and homemade cakes, together with a small gift shop and information area displaying the latest wildlife sightings. Entry to the reserve is free (donations accepted), with a very reasonable parking charge of just £2.

After enjoying a delicious lunch, we headed out onto the reserve, deciding to follow the circular path clockwise towards the Skua Hide before continuing to the Tern Hide. As we strolled along the trail, the calls of gulls and terns drifted through from the pools beyond the trees, although they were almost completely drowned out by the song of a willow warbler perched conspicuously on top of the hedgerow, as willow warblers so often seem to do.

Our first stop was the Skua Hide, where we found ourselves with the place entirely to ourselves. Several well-stocked feeders hung from a nearby pole, although they were strangely devoid of visitors. The reserve volunteers had told us that tree sparrows, tits and a variety of other small birds regularly frequented them, but on this occasion they remained quiet.

Despite its name, the Skua Hide offers only a narrow window onto the sea, making it difficult to pick out passing seabirds unless they happen to fly through the limited field of view. Even so, we managed to watch sandwich and common terns, along with what we believed were a few Arctic terns, while the occasional guillemot sped past offshore.

Pleasant though the watch was, we decided to continue around the reserve in the hope that other viewpoints would provide better and more prolonged views of the birds using the coastline and surrounding pools.

Reports from the previous day had mentioned five first-summer little gulls on the reserve, with as many as nine having been present a few days earlier. With that in mind, we stopped at a bench overlooking the pools to see if we could pick one out, although the sightings had come from a hide on the opposite side of the water.

As we scanned the pools, groups of terns, predominantly Arctic terns, passed back and forth overhead, with some flocks numbering a couple of dozen birds. While photographing one such group, I managed to capture what appears to be a first-summer Arctic tern, a pleasing bonus overlooking the pool.

We had only just started to continue our circuit of the reserve when a few spots of rain began to fall. Within minutes the shower intensified, sending us hurrying to the Tern Hide for shelter. No sooner had we settled inside than the rain turned to hailstones, rattling noisily against the roof and windows.

As the weather swept across the reserve, I watched the gulls huddled together on the far edge of the bay, doing their best to shelter from the sudden deluge. Then a tern came powering in and dropped down amongst them, seeking refuge from the worsening conditions. Something about it caught my eye, so I quickly trained my scope on the bird. To my delight, it was a roseate tern, one of my main target species for the trip and a very welcome addition to my year list.

The roseate tern is the UK's rarest breeding tern and one of its most sought-after seabirds. Elegant and pale, with a long forked tail, black cap and bill that can develop a red base in summer and a subtle rosy flush on the breast during the breeding season, it is often described as the most graceful of the terns. Today, most of the the UK's breeding population is concentrated on a single island: Coquet Island, close to here off the Northumberland coast. Intensive conservation work has transformed the island into an internationally important stronghold for the species.

Once the hailstorm had passed and the rain eased, the roseate tern flew to a nearby rock where it spent several minutes preening and drying its feathers. Eventually it took to the air again, circling gracefully over the pool before dropping onto the water for what appeared to be a quick wash and freshen up after the soaking it had endured.

After a few moments it lifted effortlessly from the surface and, as suddenly as it had appeared, powered away across the reserve and disappeared behind us.

The Arctic terns soon followed suit, with small groups of birds dropping onto the water to splash about and enjoy their own wash and brush-up after the passing storm. It was fascinating to watch their lively bathing behaviour and provided far better views than I had managed from the shoreline in Ayrshire a few weeks earlier, where the birds had remained much more distant and largely silhouetted against the sky. A lone female goosander stood at the water's edge and seemed to be one of the few birds that carried on regardless during the hailstorm, appearing completely unfazed as the icy shower swept across the reserve.

On arrival, we had been warned that the car park gates would be locked promptly at 5:30pm. With the clock now ticking past 5.00pm, we reluctantly began making our way back towards the visitor centre. As we passed through, we heard the distinctive chirping call of a tree sparrow and almost immediately spotted one perched on top of a nearby bush to our left. A couple more birds appeared, flitting between the surrounding shrubs and giving us some final views before we eventually packed away our binoculars and cameras and headed off to our hotel to check in. In the hotel cark park we found three more tree sparrows - so hard (or almost impossible) to see locally in Oxfordshire, but yet here in our car park!

The following morning we were up early, enjoyed breakfast and then set off for Amble Harbour to catch our boat for the eagerly anticipated trip around Coquet Island. Operated by Puffin Cruises, the family-run business has been taking visitors to the island since 1969 and offers one of the best opportunities to experience Northumberland's internationally important seabird colonies.

Coquet Island is one of the county's hidden gems. During the breeding season it teems with birdlife, while the island provides nesting sites for several hundred eider ducks. To protect this internationally important colony, the island is designated as a bird sanctuary and public landings are prohibited. Owned by the Duke of Northumberland since 1753, the island remains uninhabited throughout the winter, with seasonal wardens residing there during the breeding season to safeguard the nesting birds and monitor the colonies.

On arriving at Amble, we headed to the booking office pod in Amble Harbour Village to collect our tickets, joining several other passengers doing the same. We had initially been told that around 23 people had booked onto the Birdwatching Special sailing, but by departure time that number had grown to 32, still comfortably within today's imposed capacity of 35 passengers - usually more on other sailings.

While waiting to board, we passed the time watching sandwich terns patrolling the harbour, repeatedly plunge-diving into the water in pursuit of fish - a fitting prelude to what promised to be a superb morning of seabird watching, the weather predicted to stay dry until late lunchtime.

As we headed out across the water towards Coquet Island, sandwich terns were the first seabirds to accompany the boat, but as we drew closer, they were increasingly outnumbered by Arctic terns, their elegant flight and piercing calls adding to the excitement of the approach. Common guillemots were also much in evidence, with birds both resting on the sea and flying low over the water as they commuted to and from fishing spots.

As we approached the island, I found myself eagerly scanning for roseate terns, knowing that this would probably be my only remaining opportunity to see this tern species during our short break. The breeding season is still in full swing, so the final census for this year had yet to be completed, but the colony has enjoyed a remarkable recovery in recent years. Last summer, 144 breeding pairs nested on Coquet Island, the third-highest total ever recorded and a significant rebound following the devastating impacts of bird-flu during 2022 and 2023.

Our first encounter involved the roseate terns hanging out around the boxes on shelves on the slope down to the water. While the roseate terns nested peacefully in their small, tightly packed colonies, there was still plenty of activity and the occasional dispute as neighbouring birds defended their territories. Brief skirmishes would break out as one bird ventured too close to another's nest site, with much calling, wing-flapping and aerial chasing before order was quickly restored and the colony settled once more.

We began circling the concrete landing pier and, on the far side, were rewarded with superb views of a couple of roseate terns quietly resting. It was the perfect opportunity for photographs, although as I lined up my shots another birder had edged slightly in front of me. Fortunately, he was a little shorter, allowing me to shoot over the top of him for the most part, though I have to admit that the occasional pan of the camera resulted in my lens touching his head/cap!

The pier itself held much larger numbers of Arctic terns, with birds lining the concrete - others wheeled overhead or arrived carrying small fish, creating a constant flurry of activity.

I turned my attention to the puffins, and where Charlotte's had been all the time - this is what she'd come to see. Coquet Island is home to one of England's largest puffin colonies, with an estimated 18,000 breeding pairs returning each spring to nest in burrows across the island. Although no official count has yet been published for the 2026 breeding season, the island remains one of the country's premier locations for seeing these charismatic seabirds at close quarters. We noticed that the greatest concentrations were around the northern end of the island, where hundreds could be seen standing at their burrow entrances, or flying in with sand eels for their chicks.

Despite their comical appearance on land, puffins are exceptional swimmers and divers, using their wings to "fly" underwater in pursuit of fish, often reaching depths of 30–60 metres. During the breeding season, the birds sport their familiar bright orange feet and colourful triangular bills. Once breeding is over, they shed the brightly coloured outer plates of the bill, leaving a much duller appearance through the winter. I hope these photographs do justice to just how colourful these charismatic little clowns really are.

Other species were also much in evidence, and we spent time scanning the shoreline and rocky ledges, picking out eiders, goosanders, rock pipits, fulmars and kittiwakes. The island supports a small breeding colony of fulmars. Around 50 pairs nest on the island's rocky ledges and cliffs, their stiff-winged gliding flight and tube-shaped nostrils making them instantly recognisable as members of the petrel family rather than true gulls.

Other tern species were also very much in evidence, with sandwich and common terns perched on the rocks or wheeling out across the water. Last season saw a record 2,282 breeding pairs of sandwich terns, the highest count ever recorded on the island, alongside 536 breeding pairs of common terns, up from 353 pairs the previous year as both species continue their recovery following the impacts of bird flu.

The boat sailed around the island and gave us views of the kittiwakes, on rocks but predominantly nesting on the cliffs. The most recent published figures indicate there are approximately 150 breeding pairs on the island - a relatively small but stable colony, especially compared with the island’s massive tern populations. Kittiwakes nest mainly on cliff-like structures and suitable ledges around the island, often alongside fulmars, taking advantage of the same exposed nesting areas.

Although not traditionally a breeding species here, razorbills have recently begun to establish themselves on Coquet Island, with the first successful fledging recorded in 2025 and small numbers now being seen around the rocky edges of the reserve. Once pointed out they were easy to see in small pockets, and occasionally heading out across the water. Razorbills are cliff-nesting auks that usually breed on steep, rocky sea cliffs with deep crevices or ledges. Coquet Island is relatively low-lying and flat, with only limited rocky edges, so there has traditionally been very little natural nesting space for them. Their recent appearance suggests a combination of population redistribution and changing local conditions, allowing a small number of birds to experiment with breeding here.

We eventually approached the area with the highest density of grey seals that continued to take an interest in the boat, popping up their heads and watching us as we watched them. They do not breed on Coquet Island itself due to the heavy seabird activity and lack of suitable undisturbed haul-out beaches. The rich tidal waters around the island, particularly where sand eels and other small fish are abundant, make it a good feeding ground, so seals are often encountered during boat approaches.

The Northumberland coast supports several thousand grey seals in total, with the main haul-out sites found at places such as the Farne Islands. Even so, seeing them here at such close range felt special.

Eventually it was time to head back to the harbour, where we stopped for lunch while starting to plan our next outing. After some discussion, we decided that a visit to Long Nanny would be the obvious choice. It had several things in its favour: our friend Nick always mentions there asking whether we’ve seen the American black tern (which we haven’t yet managed to do); it holds a large Arctic tern colony, with birds nesting at close range; and it also supports a little tern colony, a species I had yet to see this year, making it an easy decision.

We made our way from Amble towards Long Nanny, passing through areas where it looked as though rain had already fallen - perhaps we had managed to dodge the worst of the showers. However, as we pulled into the car park, a torrential downpour began, which we were thankfully able to avoid by remaining in the cars.

A few walkers were already out on the reserve and had clearly been caught in it, including one couple who eventually found shelter beneath a tree, and another pair with nowhere to hide who simply had to endure the full force of the storm but at least they were dressed for it.

The Long Nanny Nature Reserve lies on the North Northumberland coast between Beadnell and Newton, where the Long Nanny Burn meets the sea. It is a nationally important coastal site managed for its breeding seabirds, set within a landscape of dunes, sandy beach and a small tidal estuary. The area is carefully managed, with fenced nesting zones and on-site wardening to protect birds from disturbance. A key feature of Long Nanny is the close viewing experience - visitors can watch the colony from a designated viewpoint near the warden’s hut, where birds can be seen feeding, displaying and ferrying fish just offshore. The American black tern is also currently nesting by the warden's hut.

Once the rain had eased, we layered up and got our kit ready in case another shower swept through, then set off on the roughly 1km walk towards the warden’s hut. Along the way we picked up stonechats, meadow pipits and skylarks, before eventually beginning to see flocks of terns gathering along the beach ahead.

On arrival at the warden’s hut we found a volunteer already in position, scope trained on the little tern colony further along the shore. The nesting area lies beyond here, within a clearly marked roped-off cordon designed to protect the breeding birds from disturbance.

The National Trust manages Long Nanny and provides the most authoritative population counts for the site. It has reported that Arctic terns reached a peak of around 2,800 breeding pairs in 2018, although numbers can fall to nearer 1,000 pairs in poorer seasons. The little tern colony is much smaller, typically numbering around 30–60 breeding pairs.

Although we were enjoying bright spells of sunshine, darker rain showers could be seen all around the horizon, and we tried to work out which way the weather was tracking across the coast.

In the meantime, we located the area where the American black tern had been nest sitting and all managed to get good views of it before turning our attention through the scope to the little tern colony within the protected nesting zone. Kev and I then returned our focus to the American black tern, only to see an Arctic tern suddenly drop in and take over incubation duties, prompting the black tern to vacate the nest and head off up the coast, quickly disappearing from view.

Since around 2020–2021, this adult bird in breeding plumage has been observed repeatedly at the site in Northumberland. It has become something of a “regular”, often remaining through the breeding season and feeding among the colony of terns along the beach. This is unusual behaviour for the species in Britain and has attracted considerable attention from visiting birders. Originally assumed to be a male, it was initially nicknamed George, but when it began showing breeding behaviour, the name was informally updated to Georgina.

With the black tern still absent, we turned our attention to the Arctic terns, some of which nest remarkably close to the designated viewing area, with others further along the beach nearer the little tern colony. The Arctic and little terns repeatedly erupted from the colony in swirling flocks, wheeling and calling as they climbed into the air before circling overhead and eventually settling again, either on their original nest sites or out along the shoreline. Even the birds nesting directly in front of us would occasionally join in, lifting off with sharp calls and then announcing their return just as loudly as they came back to the ground.

One particularly bold Arctic tern seemed remarkably unfazed by our presence, regularly fluttering overhead before landing on the warden’s hut and, increasingly, on a post that marked the boundary between the viewing area and the dunes - at times less than four feet from where we were standing. On one occasion it was noticeably more vocal than usual during its visit, prompting me to take a short video on my phone. What exactly it was trying to communicate, I have no idea - though perhaps I spent too much of my youth watching Lassie and Skippy the Bush Kangaroo.

Down on the beach and across the nesting area we were able to pick out little terns among the much larger numbers of Arctic terns. They are superb little birds, and I hope to get the chance later in the year for closer views, particularly when they are fishing along the shoreline, perhaps at Lymington (Pennington & Normandy Marsh).

Our luck then ran out and a period of heavy rain set in, forcing us to take shelter under umbrellas while we watched the terns hunker down and ride out the downpour. It lasted for some time, but eventually the rain eased and we returned to waiting for the American black tern to reappear - what exactly had she said when she left? - “I’m just nipping down the shops and will be back soon”? She had, in any case, been gone rather a while ...

Our patience eventually paid off as we watched her approach and land, only for her to be airborne again within a minute. She circled over this section of the dunes before being mobbed and chased off by some of the resident Arctic terns, eventually dropping back down to land on the beach.

Eventually she returned to the nest, where she and the Arctic tern appeared to exchange a few words over where she'd been. Whatever was said seemed to satisfy him, as he soon took to the air, leaving her to resume duties while he enjoyed a well-earned bit of "me time".

We eventually made our way back towards the car, with another heavy shower catching us enroute and giving the umbrellas another useful outing for five or ten minutes. Along the path we encountered a group of young lads being led by a couple of instructors, who explained that they were completing their Bronze Duke of Edinburgh's Award exercise. Having been out for around five hours, they looked thoroughly soaked and weary and couldn't wait to reach the minibus that was due to collect them from the car park. Whoever had arranged the pickup had clearly timed it well, as the vehicle had not been there when we left.

By the time we reached the car, the rain had stopped and the sun had reappeared, making for a much more pleasant drive back to Amble. There we enjoyed a delicious evening meal at The Boathouse before returning to the hotel to round off the day with a couple of well-earned drinks.

The following morning, Kev and I headed off to Northumberlandia while the girls enjoyed a well-deserved lie-in. Several quails had reportedly been calling there in recent days, and we felt it was worth trying our luck.

On arriving in the car park, however, the first thing to catch our attention wasn't a bird at all but a large milk vending machine standing beside the entrance to the Lady of the North. Operated by Moobile Milk, the self-service machine dispenses fresh whole milk along with a selection of rotating milkshake flavours, such as strawberry, chocolate and banana, all produced using locally sourced dairy. Visitors can bring their own bottle or cup, or purchase a reusable glass bottle on site. It was certainly something neither of us had come across before and an unexpected sight in a country park car park.

Consulting our OS map, we worked out the best route to the area where the most recent quail reports had come from and set off across the reserve. Along the way we encountered lapwings, avocets, geese and lots of brown hares, while skylarks seemed to be everywhere, their songs filling the air as they hovered high above the surrounding fields.

We spent some time along the route and at the spot from which the quails had most recently been reported, standing quietly and listening for their distinctive calls, but despite our efforts we came away empty-handed. A kestrel drifted effortlessly across the fields, while the number of brown hares continued to rise - we had counted more than 30 by this point. Scanning the surrounding farmland, we eventually picked out a pair of grey partridges feeding on a distant hillside alongside a small group of woodpigeons, little more than specks without the aid of our optics.

We eventually turned back towards the car, pausing for improved views of adult avocets feeding in the pools. As we watched, Kev picked out two tiny avocet chicks busily feeding in the shallows, a delightful sight and a fitting way to round off our visit.

We skipped breakfast at the hotel and instead headed back to Hauxley Nature Reserve, planning to enjoy a late brunch before spending a final few hours on the reserve. The forecast suggested the weather would deteriorate, and before we had even reached the Tern Hide the first spots of rain began to fall. A warden passing in the opposite direction jokingly questioned whether we were heading the right way as the showers intensified.

As we neared the hide, the rain grew heavier, but through it we could hear the distinctive reeling song of a grasshopper warbler from the dip beyond the path. While Charlotte and Karen continued to the shelter of the hide, Kev and I stayed outside in an attempt to locate the calling warbler. Despite our efforts, the only bird we managed to see was a sedge warbler.

After lingering in the rain for a while longer, we finally admitted defeat and joined the others in the hide, turning our attention to the terns and gulls gathered around the pools. Arctic, sandwich and common terns were all present, but one Arctic tern immediately caught our eye. It appeared noticeably smaller than the surrounding adults, with black legs, a predominantly dark bill, a pronounced carpal bar and a patchy head pattern, all suggesting it was a first-summer bird. Around it, other Arctic terns came and went, many returning with small fish for their mates or chicks.

Once the rain had eased a little, Kev and I ventured back outside to see if we could finally track down the grasshopper warbler. As before, we were greeted first by its distinctive reeling song, which at least gave us a good indication of where to concentrate our search. Patiently scanning the bushes, we eventually caught sight of the bird as it worked its way through the vegetation. It briefly dropped onto a tangle of thicker branches that initially obscured our view, but after a few moments it shuffled into a more open position, rewarding us with a welcome and unobstructed look before disappearing back into cover.

We returned to the café for a well-earned coffee and cake before it was time for Charlotte and I to begin our journey home. After saying our goodbyes, we set off on the long drive south, arriving back with just enough time for a good night's sleep before heading out to our pickleball session at 8.45am the following morning.

Year list: 263.