On Friday afternoon at work, I kept seeing repeated WhatsApp updates about a passage little gulls at Draycote Water. By mid-afternoon, the count had risen to 31 individuals. Deciding I'd clocked enough hours for the week, I left a bit early, swung by home to grab my camera and scope, and headed to the site hoping some would still be around. On arrival, I discovered the parking system had changed since my last visit - payment was now based on arrival times recorded by camera monitoring, with fees charged at the end of the stay.
I made my way up to the path beside the Visitor Centre and set up the scope to scan the water. At first, there didn’t appear to be any gulls in sight, but through the scope I spotted some movement between Biggin and Toft Bays. Watching carefully, I managed to pick out a gull that was unmistakably a little gull.
The little gull is the world's smallest gull species - adults in summer plumage are characterised by a black head, pale grey back, and dark underwings. Just like black-headed gulls, non-breeding adults display a black cap and ear spot. They are primarily observed during migration, in spring from mid-March to mid-May, especially during east or southeast winds and increasingly with winds accompanied by rain. Autumn sightings are less frequent.
The UK typically hosts between 200 and 800 individuals - notably, little gulls were recorded to successfully breed in the UK for the first time at the Loch of Strathbeg Reserve in 2016. Well worth the money to view them. Their feeding flight is often described as buoyant and fluttery - quick wingbeats, fluttering just above the water's surface picking up insects or small prey off the surface without fully landing. Here at Draycote they were likely taking advantage of hatches of (aquatic?) insects.
I walked along Farborough Dam to the point, where at lower water levels a sandy spit appears. I set up the scope again and watched little gulls work into the wind, feeding in their distinctive way amongst handfuls of herring and lesser black-backed gulls. The gulls were a good 450-500m away and although good to watch on the scope, it would be a more difficult to get a photo - I had a go.
Wing surfing - also called wing foiling - is a watersport that blends elements of windsurfing, kitesurfing, and foiling. Out in the water were a couple of people doing just that. As can be seen in the photo below you use a handheld inflatable wing (not attached to the board or rider) and a board, usually with a hydrofoil - a long fin with wings that lifts the board above the water. Amazing to see out and in the air!
I only had a short window to stay, as I was due back home in time for dinner. But before heading off, I caught sight of three common terns fishing just beyond the little gulls but practically as far away as they could be. Two year ticks for the price of one. I packed up, paid my dues, and made for home.
Kev @kev07713 and I discussed a few options for our Saturday birding trip and settled on RSPB Ham Wall, with glossy ibis and garganey both viewable from VP1 in recent days. Karen @hobbylovinglife and Dean @worlebirder were also going to be on site, from early as they were assisting in a breeding survey - perhaps we'd bump into them later.
Cattle egrets are a familiar sight around the Glastonbury area, with winter roosts sometimes exceeding 700 birds. They’re not often seen on the main reserve, but as I’d yet to tick one off my year list, I was quietly hopeful of spotting one somewhere nearby.
The drive to breakfast was already proving rewarding: we saw two Barn Owls—one quartering a field alongside the road, and another flushed unexpectedly from the roadside verge. Then, in a field next to the M5, two cattle egrets stood among grazing sheep - frustratingly, there would no safe spot to stop! As we left the motorway at the Dunball/Bridgwater exit, another flock of over 50 cattle egrets caught our eye in a field of sheep. We planned to check again on the way out, but by then, they’d moved on.
From the breakfast car park, things kept ticking along - literally. Two oystercatchers were perched on the roof of an industrial building, with sand martins and swallows swooping in the distance. In the reeds beyond, we heard a Cetti’s warbler calling, spotted a reed bunting, and picked out a willow warbler. Who would've thought breakfast could bring two year ticks?
Arriving at the reserve, I waited in the car park while Kev checked out the facilities. A flash of colour caught my eye as a Kingfisher zipped across the car park, heading for the main reserve. A large bird then swooped in from the right, disappearing behind the trees - I tried my best to turn it into a bittern, but it was a grey heron.
We walked on to the bridge and paused before reaching the main track, where we heard a sedge warbler singing, though we couldn't quite locate it. No doubt we’ll tick one soon for the year list - the place was alive with blackcaps in full song.
A little further along, by a narrow drain, we stopped to watch a barn owl being mobbed by a couple of crows before it ducked into cover. At the end of the channel, we spotted Karen and Dean also watching the scene unfold. As I waited, hoping the owl might reappear, a Kingfisher darted low along the reed tops - unseen by Karen and Dean, though they later said they’d heard its call. I pointed out where it had landed, and within moments Kev had it in view.
As we continued toward VP1, the soundtrack of blackcaps and chiffchaffs surrounded us. When we arrived at the viewing platform, a chiffchaff fed just a few feet away, completely unbothered by us or the handful of birders nearby.
From the platform we were able to see three ruff out in the water. Numbers peak during April, as birds move north from wintering grounds (mainly Africa) to their Arctic and sub-Arctic breeding areas. They are most often seen at wetlands, scrapes, flooded meadows, and RSPB reserves with shallow pools such as here. We usually see good numbers of them on the East coast reserves, such as Titchwell, Frampton Marsh, and Cley. We always keep an eye out for white-headed or black-faced males - their breeding plumage is stunningly diverse but none of these individuals were yet in their best plumage.
In the same vicinity we saw a spotted redshank, transitioning to its breeding plumage. March to May is their northbound migration period but peak passage tends to be in April, sometimes lingering into early May. By late spring, most have moved on to their Arctic breeding grounds in Scandinavia and northern Russia. In mid-spring to summer, they sport jet black plumage with subtle white spotting - really striking. It would work around ahead of us, always at distance. A few common redshanks fed close by. Also at distance were a handful of remaining pintails.
As we scanned the area, we spotted several common snipe probing the exposed mud in search of food. Suddenly, a bird darted across the water, possibly a sparrowhawk, sending most of the waders and some ducks into the air. We had actually been hoping for a bit of a shake-up like this, especially with the garganey nowhere in sight and still no sign of the glossy ibis.
I was especially taken with a group of around 30 snipe that took to the air together, circling the pool in front of us before sweeping overhead. After another pass, they settled again, scattering across the pool at distance.
Common snipe are both resident and winter visitors in the UK, but many of the wintering birds head back to northern Europe in spring. Breeding birds do stay, particularly in wetland habitats, and from March to May, they begin their courtship displays. One of the most evocative sounds of the season is the male’s “drumming” flight display - soaring high in circles before diving rapidly, the wind rushing over their outspread tail feathers to create that distinctive, "drumming" sound.
Bitterns continued to call in the distance, though we never quite managed to catch sight of one. A common crane lifted into the air and disappeared far off - probably the same bird Kev had spotted earlier in the morning, though he’d been the only one lucky enough to see it.
Hoping the glossy ibis was simply feeding out of sight, tucked just over the brow between us and the water, I followed the track, crossed a bridge, and continued along another path. This route gave me a view of the area hidden from the platform, but no luck - the ibis wasn’t there.
While scanning the scene, a green sandpiper suddenly took flight and passed by quite close. I was so focused on tracking it through my binoculars that I completely forgot to take a photo! Kev and a few other birders saw it too and confirmed the ID - a year tick.
On the walk back, I heard a Cetti’s warbler calling nearby - close but hidden as ever - and then came across a blackcap singing its heart out in a tree. I couldn’t resist stopping to enjoy the song.
After another twenty minutes or so, one of the other birders on the platform called out ... the glossy ibis was coming in. It landed a little off to the left, only really visible if you stood up on the benches. I took a few photos, but it wasn’t ideal, so I decided to loop back around in the hope of getting a clearer view from the other track.
That decision paid off. I ended up taking quite a few shots, and eventually got some I was happy with, as the ibis emerged from the denser cover and moved into better light.
Once a mega rarity in the UK, the glossy ibis has become increasingly regular over the past two decades, with sightings now annual and sometimes long-staying. Though still scarce, their numbers are definitely growing. Kev had already seen one at Summer Leys in Northamptonshire, where a bird has been present since November 2024 - five months and counting.
This bird gave excellent views. Glossy ibises are surprisingly confiding when feeding, and I had the chance to properly take in the stunning iridescence, the glossy greens, bronzes, and purples catching the light.
I returned to VP1 and rejoined Kev - he was getting a bit restless, as I’d been gone a while. We decided to head down to VP2 after Karen called to say an osprey had passed overhead in that direction. She’d even sent a photo. We figured it might have been hard to spot from VP1, and if it was still around, VP2 could offer a better view.
As we wandered along the track, blackcap and chiffchaff called from the hedgerows, and a sparrowhawk zipped through. I was trailing slightly behind Kev and missed a peregrine he caught sight of. But I did get a great view of a great white egret just off to our left in the drain - it was surprisingly close and didn’t seem at all bothered by people watching it.
I always tend to associate great white egrets with yellowish-orange bills, as some of the birds here were showing. This one, however, had a black bill and is likely an adult in breeding plumage. The colour change typically occurs between March and May as they prepare to court and nest. Its sheer size also gave it away.
Great white egrets have become regular breeders in the UK, particularly in southern England. By 2021, the British population had grown to around 50 breeding pairs, which fledged 73 young that year. In 2023, a record 88 chicks fledged from 53 nests in the here in the Avalon Marshes area of Somerset. Judging by the activity around the reserve, it looks like this success might well be repeated this year.
When we reached VP2, we noticed several birds dropping into the reeds, possibly suggesting breeding behaviour. Karen and Dean were nearby, keeping tabs on this and other signs of nesting activity. We agreed to catch up with them later for a chat. There were birds out on the water, but still no sign or sound of bitterns.
A reed warbler called further down the track, and when Karen and Dean arrived, I thought I glimpsed it relocate, but not clearly enough to tick it for the year list. It won’t be long, though. Overhead, we saw a scattering of marsh harriers, a few red kites, several buzzards, and another sparrowhawk cruising the sky.
We made our way back down to VP1 for one last check, hoping the garganey might finally be showing, but no such luck. The same mix of birds was still present, though we were briefly entertained by two unusually bold chaffinches hopping around Karen and Dean’s feet.
Eventually, we decided to pull stumps and head to the car park. Karen and Dean had shared a tip about a nearby site with a known little owl tree, not too far from the reserve, so we figured it was worth a try.
On the way back, we paused at the stone bridge to watch a few grass snakes basking in the sun, curled up along the warm stonework. We stood for a while, before meeting Karen and Dean at the reserve café for a quick drink and a snack. Then, we set off for our final target of the day.
We arrived at the spot and parked our cars safely further up the lane, out of the way of any passing traffic. Then we walked back down, scanning the trees for any sign of our target. It only took a few minutes before I spotted a pair of eyes staring right back at me - I called the others over.
Spring is a great time to watch little owls, as they become more active and easier to spot. They nest in tree cavities, old buildings, and occasionally barns, laying their eggs around April and May. With their distinctive features and quirky behaviour, they’re always a delight to watch - full of character.
As usual, I took far too many photos.
A chap stopped for a chat and mentioned there were footpaths running through the nearby field, though they wouldn't offer a better angle on the branch the owl had chosen and might risk disturbing it. So, we kept our distance and simply enjoyed the view.
All too soon we were back at the car and saying our goodbyes. Another cracking day birding in the southwest - Karen and I joked about seeing each other next weekend as we have met up on each of the last three. I wonder what we'll do and where we'll be next weekend ...
Year list: 161.
