RSPB Minsmere, Marshside, & Hesketh Out Marsh :: 03 October 2026

Planning our next day out birding, Kev had said that he was tied up with various arrangements from Monday through Wednesday, so on Wednesday morning I was easing myself into the day after a leisurely breakfast when the phone rang. It was Kev. We’d chatted the night before about the red-eyed vireo that had been found at RSPB Minsmere but had concluded that this was likely to be a one-day bird with little chance of it staying. I had pointed out, though, that it might generally relocate overnight, and with rain forecast right through until first light, perhaps there was a glimmer of hope.

Kev’s first word when I answered was, “Oops.” He then asked whether I was thinking of going.

To be honest, I hadn’t yet picked up any messages about the bird being reported again, but Kev’s wife, Karen, was clearly on the case and had already relayed the news to him. I quickly changed, and barely 30 minutes later Kev and Karen were outside my house, and we were on our way, Kev having cancelled his appointment that afternoon. Charlotte didn’t join us as she was playing pickleball in the early evening.

Although the red-eyed vireo is a rare visitor to Britain, it is one of the more regularly encountered North American passerines. The first British record was at St. Agnes in the Isles of Scilly in 1962, and records have accumulated steadily since, with the vast majority occurring in September and October as birds undertake their autumn migration. It remains very much a rarity, however, with many individuals appearing only briefly before continuing their journey, while the chances of encountering one is heavily influenced by weather conditions.

The red-eyed vireo is a smart-looking bird, with olive-green upperparts contrasting with clean white underparts. Its head is particularly distinctive, with a greyish crown, broad white supercilium and dark line through the eye. The wings are darker and subtly marked, while the tail carries the same olive-green tones above. It has a fine bill and pale grey legs. Adults show the species' characteristic red iris, while first-year birds have a darker eye, gradually developing the red colour as they mature.

The Minsmere bird had been discovered at about 3.15pm the previous day, when a visitor reported it in the North Bushes. RSPB staff subsequently obtained brief views, followed by several local birders who also managed to connect with it. It was notoriously elusive, however, being seen only occasionally as it moved through the dense bushes. It is a significant record: the first red-eyed vireo for Minsmere and only the fifth for Suffolk, with the previous Suffolk record dating from 1995. It also became the 350th bird species recorded at Minsmere.

On the way, I asked via a WhatsApp group whether parking at Dunwich Heath NT might be more sensible, given the pin drop shown on BirdGuides, but was reminded that the Visitor Centre and car park there was still closed following the fires that had swept across the heath during the dry summer months. We also understood that today's reported sighting had come from a single observer, while others were already on site but had so far failed to relocate the bird.

We pulled into the car park and set off through the Visitors Centre, pausing for a comfort break. Outside, we bumped into a chap who had just come up from the North Bushes, where the bird had reportedly been seen. He told us that it had been spotted again and that we should get a move on before it dissolved back into the bushes and scrub. Apparently, it had been extremely elusive and hadn't been seen for around four hours before this latest sighting.

We set off through the reserve, passing several people who had already been lucky enough to see the bird, and paused a couple of times to check that we were heading in the right direction. Before long, we arrived to find a line of birders all focused intently on a particular stretch of bushes. Among them we spotted Lee Evans and a Coventry birder we bump into from time to time, Mike Doughty @dogdoughty. They had already enjoyed a few views of our bird but told us that it was currently out of sight. Mike described how, only ten minutes or so earlier, he had watched the bird for almost a minute as it worked its way through a bush or small tree to our right, pulling off and eating berries - it would show again, right? A post on X showed the only photo I saw posted of this encounter.

Red-eyed Vireo at Minsmere lunch time https://t.co/4KBjIBaw23

— mick davis (@Med2005Mick) September 30, 2026

We waited and scanned the bushes as birds came and went, with the suggestion that our best chance of seeing the vireo would be when the tit flock moved through. Blue tits, great tits and long-tailed tits were constantly keeping us occupied, but around 25 minutes passed without any sign of our target.

Then calls went up from the other side of the trees that someone had the bird, with directions being relayed to those nearby. The group at the left-hand end of the line immediately set off, with Lee, Mike and several staying put. We heard that the bird was mobile and that, by the time everyone reached the other side, it would probably have moved on, as it was further round than most people realised.

A couple of minutes later, two small birds flew into the bushes directly in front of us. I raised my binoculars to see what they were and, to my surprise, one was our red-eyed vireo, its prominent pale supercilium making it instantly recognisable - a lifer! I started to call out that the bird was there, only to realise that a couple of others were doing the same. As we pointed and alerted those around us, the vireo took to the air and flew across the clearing, now attracting the attention of more of the birders.

It landed briefly in an oak tree and then vanished. None of us had seen where it had gone, and we searched the oak and the surrounding trees and bushes without success. News of the sighting quickly spread, and the scattered groups began making their way back, including Kev and Karen. Unfortunately, they had missed this brief appearance, but we would stay put and wait for another opportunity and so that this time I might have the opportunity to get a photo.

We waited, and waited, and waited. The tit flock continued to work its way through the bushes, appearing several times and occasionally leaving us wondering where it had gone when long spells passed without a sighting or even a calling bird. As the afternoon wore on, people gradually began to drift away, and more than once we found ourselves almost alone in the favoured area, with the light beginning to fade.

Then, at around 5.30pm, a reported sighting appeared on BirdGuides, apparently just up the track. Birders began appearing from below us, asking whether it was our group that had seen the bird. We made our way back up towards the pin drop and continued beyond it, but there was no sign of anyone who knew anything about the report. It was all rather strange.

Eventually, with the light fading and no further news, we had to admit defeat and head for home. Having been the only one of us to get a view, I couldn't help feeling disappointed for Kev and Karen. I suppose that's birding, though on another day it could just as easily have been the other way round.

Friday evening arrived and, looking at potential new birds available for my year list, I suggested that the only realistic option on the mainland was the pallid harrier at RSPB Marshside in South Lancashire. It was a particularly smart first-winter bird, with the characteristic dark boa across the neck, neat white rump and long, narrow wings giving it that distinctive appearance that separates it from the more familiar hen harrier. It was proving mobile and unpredictable, however. Some observers had enjoyed only brief flight views as it quartered the marsh, others had managed more regular and closer encounters, while some could spend hours watching without seeing it at all.

We decided on an early start on Saturday morning and made our way there without stopping. As we approached the car park, we could see a line of birders gathered along Marine Drive, apparently looking intently towards the marsh, looking through scopes, binoculars, and cameras. We wondered if we'd arrived just in time, but checking BirdGuides once we reached the car park revealed that they had likely been watching a short-eared owl. Looking at the photographs later, it was clear that they had enjoyed some remarkably good views.

We got our kit ready and chatted to a chap in the car park, wondering whether he was local and might have some useful intelligence on where best to view from, given that recent reports had come from several points along Marine Drive. As it turned out, he was a birder from the Bristol area, Tom Cutter, who spends much of his time birding at RSPB Ham Wall. We may well have crossed paths with him on previous visits there, although neither of us could be certain. He was certainly hard to miss, being considerably taller than six feet.

Tom also knew Kev's sister Karen and her partner Dean from his time birding at Ham Wall, which gave us an immediate connection and something to chat about before we headed out to look for the harrier.

From below the car park beside the sand works, we had an expansive view across the reserve. Beyond Marine Drive, the flat saltmarsh stretched away towards the Ribble, broken up by pools, ditches and patches of rough grass, with very little to obstruct the view. It was the sort of landscape where a harrier could appear almost anywhere, quartering low over the marsh before suddenly gaining height or dropping out of sight behind a bank or patch of vegetation. We stood scanning the open ground and distant pools, checking every harrier-sized shape and movement as birds rose from the marsh, while flocks of geese occasionally lifted into the air and settled again, predominantly pink-footed geese.

There were plenty of kestrels perched on posts and branches or hovering and hunting on the wing, along with the occasional distant marsh harrier, including both cream-crowned females and males. Snipe, linnets and meadow pipits passed overhead, while a few stonechats worked the vegetation out in front of us. We scanned the marsh, chatted and kept an eye on what distant groups of birders were watching, hoping that their attention might give us some clue as to where the pallid harrier might appear.

After a while, we decided to head back towards the car park and then out along Marine Drive to see what other viewpoints might be available and where the other birders had settled. We soon found a large group looking intently towards the far right of the marsh and decided to join them. They hadn’t seen anything more than we had, though, and there was still no news of the pallid harrier. That said, there was a distant view of a female merlin, and it’s always a good day when you’ve seen one of these. Unfortunately, it was far too distant for either a video or a photograph.

After a while, Tom crouched down low but continued scanning with his binoculars. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and announced that he had just seen a short-eared owl rise from the grass before almost immediately dropping back into cover. He didn't have a scope with him, just his camera and long lens, and asked if he could use mine to try to pick up the spot where he thought the owl had landed.

“Of course - be my guest.”

Within a couple of minutes, Tom stepped back and said that the bird was sitting right in the centre of the scope. He then moved across and did the same with Kev's scope. The owl was there, its domed head just visible above the grass, but it certainly wasn't an easy bird to pick out unless you already suspected something was there. Kev and I shared the scope views with others, helping them to get onto it and making sure to point out that Tom was the finder, not us.

After another half hour or so, the short-eared owl decided to relocate, giving us some lovely flight views before dropping back into the grass and disappearing once more. It wasn't completely out of view, though, as we could see birders further along Marine Drive with cameras raised, presumably enjoying better views from their position.

After another half hour, Kev decided to walk round and join them, while Tom and I stayed put, continuing to scan the marsh and chatting about birding, photography, blogging and the various places we post our photographs.

Tom said that he didn't post on X or Bluesky but was active on Instagram, where he posts as @exploretwentyfourseven - well worth a look. He also told me about a new project he had started, creating a birding and wildlife channel on YouTube Wildlife With Tom @Exploretwentyfourseven.

He'd only made three episodes so far, but if those are anything to go by, it's certainly worth subscribing and following along with his future adventures. He certainly seems to have the skills for it, both behind the camera and in front of it, with a natural personality that should work well.

After a while, we decided to pull stumps and make our way round to join Kev, who seemed to have settled into taking his own photographs. We thought we'd better go and spoil his fun. Looking out across the grassland, we initially couldn't see the owl at all; it was remarkably well camouflaged against its surroundings. Once it was pointed out, we had a much better chance of picking it up, although taking your eyes off it for even a moment meant another frustrating search to relocate it.

Eventually, the owl turned slightly side-on, and I managed to get a few shots with the camera, while Kev alternated between video and stills. After a while, the owl got up again, turned in the air and flew away from us, gradually increasing the distance before dropping back into the grass.

A few of the people around us followed its progress and appeared to get views as it went down, but after a quick chat, Kev and I decided to return to where we'd been earlier. Tom, meanwhile, decided to call it a day, with a considerably longer drive home ahead of him.

Kev and I decided to cross the road and see what the Visitor Centre had to offer. It seemed to be more of a hide than a conventional Visitor Centre, although there were a couple of portaloos, which was useful to know for the future. We spent a little time scanning the pools on the other side before making our way back towards the car, spotting a wall brown butterfly as it landed on the roadside verge.

Across the estuary we could see Lytham St Annes and Blackpool Tower beyond.

The plan now was to relocate to the main slipway at Southport beach, opposite Ocean Plaza, where twite are sometimes reported. It was probably still a little early to expect any this autumn, but there was always an outside chance, and even if we drew a blank, it would at least give us some reconnaissance for a possible trip later in the year.

However, just as I was putting my phone away, I checked BirdGuides and spotted a report from just 15 minutes earlier of a pallid harrier at RSPB Hesketh Out Marsh. Plans changed instantly. We headed back to the car and set off for Hesketh, only to bump into a couple of local birders who had also seen the report and were doing the same.

We all jumped into our cars, and we followed them towards the reserve. It turned out to be a considerably longer journey than I'd expected, but I suppose we had to negotiate the estuary edges. We jumped out of the car and hurried up the slope, hopeful that the bird might still be showing.

As we joined the line of birders, there was a familiar face among them - Tom, who had also spotted the report and decided to give it a go. Unfortunately, the news from those already there wasn't encouraging. There had been no further views, and none of the birders present had seen the bird themselves. We joined them in scanning the marsh, picking out a chap in the distance who appeared to be carrying out some sort of survey, clipboard in hand.

There were other raptors to keep us occupied - buzzards, marsh harriers and kestrels - but no sign of the pallid harrier. One of the kestrels eventually landed in a tree behind us, and I couldn't resist taking a photograph.

After another hour or more, we finally had to admit defeat. We said our goodbyes and all made our way back to the cars for the journey home. No doubt we'll bump into Tom again on future visits to RSPB Ham Wall, and in the meantime we can follow his exploits through his YouTube channel.

Halfway home, Kev checked BirdGuides and spotted a report of a pallid harrier at Belmont Reservoir, east of where we'd been. Could it be our bird? It was only about a 50-minute drive from RSPB Marshside, but by then it was possibly even further from where we were - and, unfortunately, in completely the wrong direction.

There was nothing we could do about it now, so we continued home, hoping that we'd get another chance to connect with the pallid harrier on another day.

Year list: 295 (mine) - BUBO: 290.

Suffolk, Eyebrook, & Eastleach Martin :: 22-24 August 2026

We’d left visiting the zitting cisticolas (fan-tailed warblers) at Walberswick until late this year, but with the youngsters now fledged, it seemed like a good opportunity to finally slot them into our plans. If I hadn’t needed them for my year list, I’m not sure Kev @kev07713 would have been quite so keen, so I was grateful that he was happy to make them our main target for the day. It helped that there was also a black stork not too far away, giving us the chance to turn it into a proper day out rather than simply two long journeys there and back for the possibility of seeing a single bird species.

With such a long drive ahead of us, there was no argument for taking a comfort break and grabbing some breakfast as we got closer. We reached the beach by 8.20am and set off along the advertised one-kilometre walk, which seemed to pass surprisingly quickly. Kev spotted a couple of birders further along the path running parallel to the beach, presumably already searching for the bird. As we made our way towards them, we picked out a lone whimbrel feeding in the pools to our right and a departing spoonbill. Out over the water, common terns were busy fishing, with juveniles among the first handful of birds we picked up, followed by a couple of adults further along.

We eventually caught up with the two birders, who told us they had already heard the birds calling - a sharp, metallic, rhythmic “zit ... zit ... zit ...”. At times the calls had sounded surprisingly close, but despite one of them having been there for almost two hours, neither had managed to see one. As if on cue, we heard a call ourselves and immediately began scanning the area, checking the sea buckthorn beyond the shingle, as well as the marram grass and coastal reeds. Then Kev spotted one perched in the buckthorn. It showed for barely ten seconds before disappearing back into the foliage, leaving him with little more than a brief but satisfying glimpse. I missed this as by the time I looked it had already gone.

We carried our scopes down towards the buckthorn bush to our left and continued scanning picking out whinchats, stonechats and the whimbrel relocating further along the coast.

The feeding behaviour of the cisticolas is quite distinctive, as they tend to forage low down among vegetation, particularly in rough grassland and scrub. In this coastal habitat, they work their way along the edges of the marram grass, reeds and sea buckthorn, frequently disappearing before reappearing a few metres away. They are constantly on the move, rarely remaining in one place for long, which made keeping track of them quite difficult. They can hover briefly or make short, fluttering movements to reach prey. They perch on grass stems or bushes between feeding bouts, then drop back into cover.

I caught sight of what looked like a cisticola flying up and back down along the edge of the grass in front of us, but despite watching and waiting, I couldn’t get a positive identification. We continued to hear calls from in front of us and to our right, roughly halfway back towards where the other birders were standing, with Kev picking up the calls around twice as often as I did.

A couple of other birders had now joined us and were making their way along the sea wall between our positions when a call went up that a cisticola was in view. We grabbed our scopes and quickly headed back to get directions. I managed a look through one of the birders’ scopes and, by the time I pulled away, Kev had picked up the bird, and I was able to get onto it through his scope. I quickly raised my camera and tried to grab a photo, but the bird had dropped back into cover almost immediately, and I missed my chance. This individual was rather plain and warm-toned compared with more distinctive adults and so we believe it was a juvenile.

According to the Suffolk Bird Group, at least 11 zitting cisticolas were present as of 6 August, comprising up to three males, at least seven juveniles from three broods, and at least one other adult. On 14 August, reports suggested that nine birds were being seen across the area, while another source put the maximum at six. Despite their elusive nature and the difficulty of getting good views, we felt confident that at least three individuals were present during our visit.

We kept watching and I picked out several strong candidates, but none of them sat up enough to give us a decent view. After two and a half hours on site, we decided that we had probably seen the birds as well as we were going to, even if we stayed for the rest of the day. The black stork had meanwhile been reported at Hazelwood Marshes, having been flushed from a dyke and into a field north of the hide. With that as our next target, we walked back to the car and headed over to the reserve, which was a new site for both of us.

Hazlewood Marshes is a Suffolk Wildlife Trust reserve on the Alde Estuary near Aldeburgh, but the landscape we were visiting has apparently changed dramatically in recent years. Until 2013 it was a freshwater marsh protected by a river wall, but a powerful tidal surge on 5 December that year breached the defences and flooded the reserve with salt water. Rather than rebuild the wall, the Trust allowed the area to develop naturally into an intertidal landscape, with mudflats, creeks and saltmarsh gradually replacing the former freshwater habitat. The change has proved hugely beneficial for wildlife, attracting large numbers of waders, while the developing marshes also provide feeding habitat for a wide variety of other species.

We stopped at an elevated section of the track, giving us a good view across the bay as we scanned the areas highlighted on the BirdGuides map where the black stork had recently been reported. The exposed mud was covered with birds, including large numbers of golden plovers, black-tailed godwits, shelduck and lapwings, with the tide now almost at its lowest ebb. Despite searching carefully, there was no sign of the stork.

We continued along the track towards the hide, where we met a couple coming the other way who brought disappointing news: the bird had not been seen since the earlier report, when it had flown away from the bay and over the trees. They also pointed out some trees where it had apparently roosted during high tide the day before. With the tide already close to its lowest point, this information was interesting but probably of little relevance to us on this visit. As we talked with them, we watched two clouded yellow butterflies fly through the field below us.

We continued along the track but soon stopped when we came across a couple of butterflies that neither of us had seen before. The second fluttered around us for a minute before eventually settling on the track, allowing us a much better look. It turned out to be a grayling, a new butterfly for both of us and a bonus.

The grayling is a beautifully camouflaged butterfly associated with dry, open habitats, particularly coastal grassland, sand dunes, and rocky areas. Although widespread in parts of Britain, it can be quite localised and is often surprisingly difficult to spot when settled, thanks to the excellent camouflage provided by the mottled underside of its wings, which blends easily with bare soil, sand, rocks and dry vegetation.

When disturbed, graylings tend to make a short, powerful flight before settling again, often choosing a track or other bare surface. Once settled, they characteristically hold their wings closed and angled towards the sun, helping them regulate their body temperature while remaining remarkably inconspicuous. The upper wings are brown with distinctive orange patches and eyespots, although these are often only revealed when the butterfly takes flight or briefly opens its wings. The underside is considerably more cryptic, with mottled grey, brown and buff colouring that blends beautifully into its surroundings. We were damned if we could get a decent photograph of it with its wings open, or even one in flight.

Eventually, we set off again and made our way towards the hide, passing good numbers of black-tailed godwits, redshank, dunlin, golden plovers and lovely summer plumaged grey plovers along the way. When we entered the hide, we found two people already in position. Kev scanned one side while I concentrated on the other, with the couple leaving after around 15 minutes.

Although I was looking in the opposite direction to Kev, we could both see good numbers of greenshank among the species we had already encountered. Five youngsters then walked along the channel towards a RIB with outboards, eventually pushing it into deeper water and rounding the corner until it disappeared.

A few minutes later, I spotted a bird approaching from my left and immediately recognised it as a raptor - a juvenile osprey! I alerted Kev, who came across to join me, and as we snapped away with our cameras, a second bird followed. The two ospreys circled the bay together before passing over the hide and onto the side Kev had been scanning, eventually heading back out over the estuary and disappearing.

We presumed the birds had been resting on one of the structures out on the estuary and had been disturbed by the rib as the youngsters set off, inadvertently giving us some excellent views in the process.

We continued to search but we weren't getting any views of the bird we wanted. We could see some tasty properties on the edge of the marshes and as we scanned around, we could see a golf course. The area around the tees and greens were lush, short-cut, and healthy, with a smooth, even surface typical of a maintained putting green, suggesting regular watering and close mowing. The fairway was dry, brown, and patchy, with large areas where the grass has thinned or gone dormant. It looked sun-scorched or drought-affected, giving a rougher, uneven texture compared with the greens.

Eventually, we had to admit defeat and accept that the black stork wasn’t going to be added to our sightings. We returned to the car and headed for home.

The following day, I was easing myself into the day when a report came through that a red-necked phalarope was still at Eyebrook Reservoir. Having missed a stunning individual at Farmoor Reservoir by just five minutes earlier in the year, I still needed to connect with one for my year list. I picked Kev up on the way and set off, with Google suggesting a rather unusual route through Daventry. It seemed a strange way of getting there, but it worked, and we eventually arrived on site.

As we pulled up, we stopped to check whether the bird was visible from the viewing platform. Kev went in for a look and returned saying he had seen it, so naturally I jumped out to have a look myself - well, you never know! We then drove another couple of hundred metres and pulled over at a stretch where we could look out across the inflow. From there, the phalarope was visible, albeit at some distance, feeding along a channel in front of a line of ducks and lapwings. It was constantly on the move as it worked its way along the water, making it difficult to keep track of at times, especially trying to take a video on our phones through our scopes. There was plenty of tutting.

The red-necked phalaropes are now heading south after breeding in the Arctic and sub-Arctic. Although they spend much of the winter at sea, migrating birds will stop at suitable inland wetlands to feed and rest, making reservoirs such as Eyebrook an important staging point. The shallow margins and exposed mud around the inflow provide particularly good feeding habitat, and the phalarope was making full use of it, constantly working its way along the channel among the other birds.

The phalarope suddenly took to the air along with the surrounding birds, although there was no obvious predator in sight to explain the disturbance. It wheeled around a couple of times before eventually dropping back down onto the nearest shore, giving us a much better view, although it was still some distance away. The views through the scope were excellent, but the heat haze continued to play havoc with both photographs and video.

We continued enjoying views of the phalarope, along with greenshank, green sandpiper, snipe, ruff and more on the water, when a shout went up that an osprey was approaching from our right. It wasn’t actively fishing and simply flew straight through, but it would prove to be the first of two birds/passes we would see that day. The second was rather more interesting, with the osprey carrying a fish as it passed by.

Ospreys wouldn’t be the only raptors we’d see, with a distant buzzard also appearing, followed by a flyby from a kestrel.

We chatted with some of the other birders, but we had only come out to see one special bird. We'd pack up and head home, again directed along a route that made no sense compared to many previous visits.

As has become normal these days, Charlotte and I headed out for a couple of hours of pickleball on Monday morning before stopping for lunch, and Charlotte then went out for part of the afternoon. Kev and a few other friends had returned to see the long-tailed shrike at Eastleach Martin, this time now that it had completed its moult.

When I had first visited, the shrike was already beginning to moult, with its plumage looking a little untidy as it started replacing its feathers. This time, the transformation was obvious. The moult was complete and the bird looked considerably smarter, sporting a fresh set of neatly formed feathers that gave it a much cleaner appearance. It was a nice reminder that even when returning to see the same individual, there can still be something different to appreciate.

I arrived to hear that the bird had been showing but had retreated inside the scrub under a tree and had been out of view for 5-10 minutes. I waited and sure enough in another 10-15 minutes it popped out and perched on the front of the tree. Within a couple of minutes it was on the move, dropping down onto the ground catching beetles and predominantly grasshoppers. The grasshopper population must have taken a hammering since the appearance of the shrike.

The long-tailed shrike at Eastleach Martin had already been around for some time before most birders knew about it, first being recorded at Macaroni Farm on 8 July 2026 and remaining there until at least 16 July, although news of its presence was not immediately released. It was subsequently seen along a hedge beside a minor road before apparently disappearing.

The bird was relocated on the morning of 19 July, when the news was released and birders began arriving in large numbers. This was no ordinary twitch, as the long-tailed shrike was an exceptional rarity in Britain. Remarkably, another long-tailed shrike had been found at Crail in Fife just days earlier when I had travelled north to see it, meaning two had appeared in Britain within the same month.

Identified as a first-summer bird, it was already undergoing moult when it was found, and this likely has contributed to its prolonged stay. During July and August, it has been a popular attraction, with birders able to watch it hunting from hawthorn bushes, fence posts and wires before dropping into the grass to catch insects. As the weeks have passed, its appearance gradually changed as the moult progressed.

The large number of visitors also created some logistical challenges, particularly as the bird was in an agricultural area during the harvest and the weather was exceptionally hot and dry. Fortunately, the local farmer opened a field for parking, with donations going towards conservation, allowing the many visiting birders to see the bird while minimising disruption to the surrounding farm.

What had started as an extraordinarily rare bird quietly occupying a Gloucestershire hedgerow had become one of the biggest birding attractions of the summer, eventually remaining in the area at least into the end of August.

While watching the bird, I got chatting to a woman who turned out to be Heather England @Heather24623189, someone I follow on both X and Bluesky. Heather is a regular source of sightings from WWT Slimbridge, frequently sharing her observations and photographs from the reserve and providing a useful picture of what is being seen there. She’d had some great views of the shrike and taken some lovely photographs - we had a very pleasant conversation while enjoying excellent views of the bird feeding its way up and down the hedge.

I’d been hoping to get home before Charlotte, but I got rather caught up watching the shrike, along with whinchats, wheatears, redstarts and more, and eventually arrived home just in time for dinner. A great visit all round, and a chance to see the shrike looking its absolute best in all its finery.

Year list: 284.

Norfolk tern ... then butterflies :: 18 & 20 June 2026

Last year, Kev @kev07713 and I took advantage of the quieter summer period to go butterfly watching, with a particular focus on purple emperors. Although we enjoyed some success, we never managed to connect with any white admirals. Over the weekend just gone, we therefore dedicated some time to visiting Bernwood Forest in the hope of catching up with the white admirals and perhaps seeing the first emerging purple emperors. While we were very successful in finding the white admirals, the purple emperors eluded us. Fortunately, it wasn't more than a week before we would catch up with them too, especially the males.

Birding had taken something of a back seat, but when we discussed plans for the middle of the week, I persuaded Kev to visit Hickling Broad, where a Caspian tern had been reported for several days. The trip might also give us the opportunity to visit Strumpshaw Fen RSPB, where we understood swallowtail butterflies could be found - another species high on our list of wildlife we'd been hoping to see.

We arrived at Hickling Broad to find the car park completely full, which came as quite a surprise and was very different from our previous visit to see the black-winged kite. Not only were there virtually no parking spaces available, even in the overflow car park, but a coach party was also checking in at the Visitor Centre. We were feeling optimistic, having received an update on the way confirming that the bird was still present.

After getting our gear together, we headed out onto the reserve. Before long, we met a couple who had just returned from one of the perimeter paths bordering the area where the Caspian tern had been reported. They advised us to continue along the path ahead and make for the elevated viewing platform, which they said likely offered the best chance of seeing the bird.

We walked with them and, after about five minutes, reached the platform where three birders were already in position. Two of them immediately stepped down and informed us that the tern had been showing well but had only just taken off and flown away from the viewpoint - they were content with their views and were leaving. Apparently, it had behaved in a similar fashion earlier and was expected to return—hopefully before too long.

We joined with the couple on the platform and with me on the stairs waiting for the return and thankfully it didn't take long before we saw the Caspian tern return into the shallow water and preen.

The Caspian tern is the world's largest tern and is a scarce but regular visitor to the UK. Although it breeds across parts of Europe, Asia, North America, Africa and Australia, it does not breed here so most UK records involve wandering birds during late spring and summer, with occasional individuals lingering for several days at favoured wetlands or estuaries. Some years produce only a handful of records, while in others several individuals appear around the country. Birds are most often seen between May and August, with July being a particularly good month as post-breeding dispersal begins.

As usual, I concentrated on taking photographs while Kev recorded some video on his phone through his scope. His post on X gives a good idea of just how distant the bird was, even with the reach provided by the scope and a degree of cropping applied to the video. He really is quite good at this.

Today @jkyles32 and I visited NWT Hickling Broad, Norfolk. Our target was the Caspian tern, It had been present for a few days, we had a fairly early start and with positive news luck would be on our side.@BirdGuides pic.twitter.com/WC3xL7XDu9

— Kev heath (@kev07713) June 18, 2026

While we waited, we added a steady stream of other species to the day's list, including common redshank (rather than the spotted redshanks reported the previous day), shelduck, ringed plover, buzzard, marsh harrier, sparrowhawk, Cetti's warbler, common tern, and more. Kev then picked out a little gull to the right of where the Caspian tern had been standing, providing another addition.

The tern made a few short flights around the pool before eventually gaining height and disappearing into the distance once more. Taking this as our cue, we relinquished our spot on the viewing platform and struck up a conversation with a couple of birders who had joined us. One of them mentioned that, in recent years, Caspian terns had become almost an annual feature somewhere in the Norfolk Broads, with Hickling Broad proving to be one of their favoured haunts. As a result, he now regarded the species as one he expected to see every year rather than just occasionally.

They also told us that swallowtail butterflies could be found on the reserve and that one of the more reliable places to look was along a nearby track leading back towards the Visitor Centre. We walked with them, as one of the birders wanted to catch up with reed warblers, and before long reached the spot they had described. There we found two women and another chap independently scanning the hedgerows in the hope of finding our target.

The two women were on holiday in the area and had already seen the butterflies earlier in the week but had returned in the hope of enjoying more prolonged views. Unfortunately, none were showing at the time. While I chatted with them, Kev wandered over to speak with the other chap, who had just discovered a drinker moth caterpillar and was soon showing it to the rest of us.

The caterpillar of the drinker moth is one of Britain's most distinctive large, hairy caterpillars. Fully grown, it can reach around 75 mm in length, making it one of the largest moth caterpillars likely to be encountered in the UK. Its body is densely covered in long, shaggy brown and orange hairs, giving it a distinctly furry appearance. Running along its back is a pair of narrow creamy-white lines, usually separated by a darker central stripe, while each flank is decorated with a series of bold black-and-white chevrons, creating a strikingly patterned insect that is difficult to overlook.

Across the reedbed we could see a small group of people gathered beside a line of bushes and, according to the two women, this was another spot where swallowtail butterflies had been showing regularly the previous day. We eventually decided to make our way over and, as we walked, the occasional flurry of raised cameras gave us hope that we were heading in the right direction.

As we reached the group, a swallowtail butterfly drifted effortlessly into view before settling on a nearby bush, affording us superb views. It was a butterfly lifer for both of us and a species we'd talked about making a special trip to see for several years. The next couple of hours passed all too quickly as we watched, photographed and admired these magnificent insects, chatting with the other enthusiasts between sightings. What a beautiful butterfly it is, and one that more than lived up to our expectations.

The swallowtail is Britain's largest butterfly, with a wingspan of up to 90mm, and is also one of its most breathtaking. With creamy-yellow wings boldly patterned in black, accented by electric-blue crescents and a vivid red eye spot on each hindwing, it is impossible to mistake. It is endemic to the Norfolk Broads, and this subspecies is restricted to the fens where its caterpillars feed exclusively on milk parsley.

Eventually, we made our way back to the Visitor Centre for a well-earned lunch before returning to the car for the journey home, satisfied that we had connected with both of our target species and enjoyed another memorable day.

There is a small, managed colony of Glanville fritillaries in Wiltshire. Although introduced and therefore outside the butterfly's natural range, the colony has persisted for several years thanks to careful habitat management. Naturally, the Glanville fritillary is confined to the Isle of Wight, where it breeds on coastal grasslands, making the Wiltshire colony a much more accessible opportunity to see this rare species.

Armed with some good information, we set off on the Saturday in the hope of tracking one down and after parking, we climbed the slope towards what we believed was the most promising area. The directions we'd been given initially proved a little confusing, however, and the terrain didn't seem to match our expectations but nevertheless, we pressed on and soon began encountering plenty of more common butterfly species.

Although butterflies were our main objective, it is never easy to ignore our usual quarry. Ahead of us, a kestrel hovered effortlessly, silhouetted against the sky above a sunlit slope that appeared to be alive with butterflies. To our right, a pair of stonechats voiced their disapproval at our presence, repeatedly perching on the tops of bushes and delivering their sharp, chattering calls as we passed and started working through the butterflies.

After a short while a likely candidate dropped into the grass and meadow flowers in front of us and on close inspection we believed we were on our target butterfly. It is one of Britain's most attractive and sought-after butterflies and although widespread across much of continental Europe, in Britain it is known for its natural population on the Isle of Wight.

It is a medium-sized butterfly whose orange-brown upper wings are patterned with a bold network of black markings, creating an intricate chequered effect. A row of pale cream spots around the wing margins provides an attractive contrast and completes its distinctive appearance.

The underside is, if anything, even more impressive. The hindwings have alternating bands of orange, cream and white, forming an intricate pattern reminiscent of stained glass. These markings are best appreciated when the butterfly settles to nectar, closing its wings to reveal the full beauty of their delicate design.

We enjoyed several more sightings, perhaps all involving the same individual, as we continued to explore the area. At one point I wandered over the hill behind us to see what else might be about. Although there were plenty of butterflies, they were all species we had already encountered. To make matters worse, while I was away Kev managed to add a grizzled skipper to his day list - typical! I had to content myself with a selection of the more common species instead.

Another thoroughly enjoyable day out, and a wonderful way to spend the quieter weeks of summer when birding naturally takes a back seat. Swapping feathers for butterflies had proved every bit as rewarding, with another couple of long-awaited species added to our list.

Year list: 266.