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.

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.

Crail & Musselburgh :: 08 - 09 July 2026

With birding largely reduced to short days out and the same species turning up on each visit, Kev and I have been spending more time watching butterflies and, inevitably, dragonflies and damselflies. We'd also taken in some tennis at Eastbourne for a week, travelling and spending time with friends. Everything changed on Sunday when news broke of a long-tailed shrike at Crail, Fife. Unfortunately, I was tied up on both Monday and Tuesday, leaving Wednesday as my first chance to go. Kev wasn't tempted by the prospect of the long drive, so this would be a solo trip. If time allowed on the way home, I'd also try to call in and see my mum and one of my brothers.

On Wednesday morning I was showered, packed and ready, waiting only for confirmation that the bird had remained overnight. Thankfully the early updates started appearing on the WhatsApp groups and BirdGuides, allowing for an early departure. At 5.31am the message I'd been waiting for arrived - the bird was still present. I grabbed my optics and overnight bag and headed north for Fife, stopping only once enroute for breakfast and a comfort break.

The bird had been discovered near Crail and proved remarkably faithful to the area, remaining long enough for thousands of birders to catch up with it. It was identified as a first-summer male, showing the classic combination of a black face mask and crown, grey nape, chestnut back and rump, pale underparts and a long black tail.

Its appearance was of huge significance. Before the Crail bird, Britain had recorded just one accepted long-tailed shrike, a first-winter bird on South Uist in the Outer Hebrides during November 2000. That individual became the stuff of birding folklore as severe weather made travel to the islands extremely difficult. Birders chartered boats and even aircraft in desperate attempts to reach it, but many failed before the bird disappeared, leaving relatively few fortunate enough to add it to their British lists.

The Crail bird was found by Ian Redfield, a visiting American ornithology student from Colorado who is spending the summer in Fife assisting with corn bunting surveys. While birding farmland near Thirdpart House, just outside Crail, Ian noticed a shrike that immediately struck him as unusual. Although unfamiliar with European shrikes, he recognised it wasn't quite right and sent photographs to local birders Will Creswell of Wild Crail and Chris Gomersall, who circulated the images with the cautious message: "Probably lesser grey shrike. Small chance of long-tailed shrike."

The photographs then caught the attention of experienced birder Jared Wilson, who suggested that the seemingly improbable possibility of a long-tailed shrike should be taken seriously. Once the bird was relocated and studied properly, its rich chestnut upperparts, long tail and other diagnostic features confirmed the identification, making it only the second accepted long-tailed shrike ever recorded in Britain and the first for mainland Britain.

The discovery is a reminder of just how important it is to question first impressions. The bird could easily have been written off as a more familiar shrike species, but sharp observation, combined with Jared Wilson's willingness to consider an exceptionally rare identification, resulted in one of the most memorable British birding discoveries of recent decades.

I arrived at the fruit farm shop, where a volunteer directed me to a parking space. A team of volunteers was doing an excellent job of managing the stream of visiting birders while ensuring the normal business of the farm shop could continue uninterrupted. With my optics collected, I set off along the track running parallel to the road before turning onto a tarmac path leading towards a house and outbuildings, where a gathering of birders had assembled. It was a walk of almost a mile from the car park.

As I approached, a couple walking back towards me delivered some worrying news: the bird hadn't been seen for over two and a half hours. What! After a seven-hour drive, that wasn't what I wanted to hear. Fortunately, before disappointment had time to set in, I noticed a ripple of excitement spread through the assembled birders. As I reached them, the long-tailed shrike appeared on the low branches of a distant hedgerow. I managed a quick look through a local birder's scope before setting up my own scope, then enjoyed another brief view before it dropped back into cover. A lifer ticked.

I crossed to the opposite side of the hedge, joining another 30–40 birders watching the same stretch of hedge, and settled down to wait. About 20 minutes later someone picked the bird up again, this time tucked inside the hedge rather than perched on it. Although partly obscured at times by leaves blowing in the breeze, it remained visible long enough (15-20 minutes) to enjoy some excellent scope views.

Photography, however, proved much more difficult. The combination of distance, foliage and constantly shifting branches made getting a clear shot a real challenge, although I persevered and managed a few record images.

Looking through social media during the afternoon, I realised just how fortunate the earliest arrivals had been. Anyone on site before 6.00am had enjoyed incredible, close and unobstructed views. A birder friend, Alan Boddington @alanbodd, had driven through the night and was among those lucky enough to witness the bird showing continuously for at least 1½ hours. He also captured some outstanding video footage of this amazing rarity.

Through the night drive to Scotland for Britain’s 2nd ever Long-Tailed Shrike. Showed continuously between 06.00-07.30 at Crail, Fife. pic.twitter.com/PC2iLnJHWf

— Alan Boddington (@alanbodd) July 8, 2026

Once the bird flew to our left it vanished and a long wait began, hoping that the bird would reappear and give some further views. Swallows and house martins swooped and cut across the crop fields between us and the polytunnels growing the fruit and in the field behind. Behind was also a clear view of the Isle of May - quite stunning scenery here. We watched the hedge where views had been obtained during the morning and the hedges beyond but for the next four hours there were "only" tree sparrows, corn buntings, yellowhammers, goldfinches, etc.

Eventually I booked some accommodation online and started to make my way back towards the car but stopped to chat with a birder and photographer who was watching the hedge from a shallower angle. I found him to be Tom Whiley from Norfolk (tomwhileybirdart.blogspot.com). Tom had been at the site for a couple of days and told me he'd taken around 2,500 photographs, having been fortunate enough to enjoy some superb views of the bird. We chatted for a while about the shrike and our respective years birding before saying our goodbyes. Unlike the prolonged performance enjoyed by the early arrivals, the bird had proved extremely elusive for most of the day following its initial morning showing.

Having seen the bird, I now had a decision to make. Should I return to the site at first light in the hope of enjoying closer views and perhaps coming away with a better photograph, or should I head round to Musselburgh and try for the surf and white-winged scoters? I'd missed both species during a family break in Fife back in April, despite spending time searching as the birds moved between Lower Largo, Leven, Methil and Wemyss, so this might be another opportunity to finally catch up with them - I decided on the latter.

After an early breakfast, and a brief stop for fuel, I arrived at the Musselburgh Lagoons car park just after 7.15am. From there I headed down to the coastal path and began scanning the sea.

There were plenty of birds on the water, but initially they all proved to be eiders. I made my way towards the area where the surf and white-winged scoters had last been reported, gradually picking up a couple of red-throated divers, a few velvet scoters and a handful of common scoters. Even so, the proportion of scoters was much lower than I'd expected, and the stretch of sea directly ahead appeared devoid of them altogether.

Realising I'd probably need to work my way back towards the mouth of the River Esk, I retraced my steps, continuing to pass raft after raft of eiders but surprisingly few scoters. After almost 15 minutes of walking, I met a young woman birder coming in the opposite direction. She had been watching the sea with another birder further along the path and pointed out a distant line of scoters offshore. She confirmed there were surf scoters among them and suggested I'd get much better views from where her boyfriend was still standing.

I continued and joined him, setting up my scope while he watched through his binoculars. A careful scan of the flock soon revealed three surf scoters, with two feeding together while a third bird kept some distance from the pair. I commented that they'd done well to pick them out at such a distance offshore. He replied that they had been watching the flock for around an hour and that the birds had been noticeably closer when they first arrived, only drifting much farther out to sea during that time. That surprised me, as high tide was still only about an hour and a half away - I'd expected the scoters to be moving closer inshore rather than heading farther out.

The surf scoters first appeared during late winter/early spring 2025 and remained through the summer, autumn and winter. Their position changes constantly with feeding flocks, so one day they may be comfortably within scope range while on another they can be several kilometres offshore. They breed across northern North America and winters mainly on both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts of the continent. It is an exceptionally scarce visitor to Britain, with most records involving single birds, usually associating with flocks of other sea ducks so finding three together is highly unusual and is one reason these birds have attracted so much attention.

Chatting to the birder, I discovered that he and his girlfriend were from the Czech Republic. They had travelled to the UK for Birdfair but had arrived a week early to spend some time birding around Scotland before heading south for the weekend.

As we scanned the sea together, small flocks of around a dozen red-breasted mergansers flew past, while eight red-throated divers passed in singles and pairs. Although spread out, the divers remained loosely associated, forming a long, straggling procession as they moved steadily along the coast. A single gannet worked back and forth across the bay, plunge diving from time to time but also at distance.

At this distance it was almost impossible to determine whether any of the velvet scoters concealed the sought-after white-winged scoter, so I waited until high tide in the hope that the flock might drift closer to shore. Unfortunately, they remained frustratingly distant throughout.

Eventually I said my goodbyes to the Czech couple and began making my way back. Along the path I stopped several times to chat with birders heading in the opposite direction. None had managed to locate the white-winged scoter either, although a couple of them had enjoyed distant views of the surf scoters shortly before reaching me.

My mum called to see where I was. After briefly turning the camera on my phone around to show her the blue sea and cloudless sky, I told her I'd drive across and visit for a couple of hours before beginning the journey back to Oxfordshire.

It had been a short trip, but a rewarding one. Two year ticks had been added, one of them a lifer, while the long-tailed shrike was the sort of bird I may never have the opportunity to see in Britain again.

Year list: 268.