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.

Isombridge, Ryton Pools & Brandon Marsh :: 17 March 2026

The taiga bean goose has a relatively recent yet highly significant history at Slamannan in central Scotland, where it now represents one of Britain’s most important wintering goose populations. Historically, taiga bean geese wintered more widely across Scotland, but numbers declined sharply during the twentieth century as a result of habitat change and broader population decreases across Europe. By the late twentieth century, Scotland’s remaining birds were largely confined to Carron Valley in Stirlingshire, where a peak count of 122 birds was recorded in the winter of 1987–88. During the late 1980s, small numbers began appearing on the nearby Slamannan Plateau, marking the beginning of a major shift in wintering distribution.

Through the early 1990s, the entire Scottish flock gradually relocated from Carron Valley to Slamannan. By this time, annual monitoring programmes had begun, with the flock numbering roughly 130–150 birds, and Slamannan becoming Scotland’s only regular wintering site for the species.

My brother and his wife moved from Glasgow to Croy last year, and I had hoped to fit in a visit to see the flock while we were in Scotland in February, as I had never encountered the species before and the site lies only about fifteen minutes from where he lives. In the end, however, my brother travelled down to the coast to visit us, and an unplanned trip to the Highlands followed before we returned home, meaning we never managed to add the bean geese to our holiday list.

The reported sighting of a taiga bean goose at Isombridge in Shropshire immediately caught Kev’s @kev07713 and my attention, and we soon hatched a plan to go and see it. It’s a superb species to encounter in the UK, and one located just a couple of hours from home was too good an opportunity to miss. We set off along a familiar route towards North Wales - a road well known to us from our annual trips to see grouse - but this time stopped short of the moorland, parking instead along quiet farmland lanes bordered by hedgerows.

A couple of other birders pulled in behind us and joined us scanning the fields, though initially we couldn’t locate any geese. Rather oddly, they soon returned to their car and drove off just as we decided to walk down towards the pools, where the distant sound of calling geese could be heard. A jay flew through as we made our way down.

At the pools we found plenty of Canada geese, constantly on the move, some hopping between pools while others lifted off to feed in surrounding fields, but our target bird was nowhere among them. We headed back to the road to view the area marked by the previous day’s BirdGuides pin, squeezing between a line of trees and a barbed-wire fence to set up our scopes.

After a short while scanning, we picked up three geese feeding several fields away in longer grass. The report had mentioned the taiga bean goose associating with two pink-footed geese, and with two pink-foots clearly visible, these seemed promising. The third bird, however, was partly obscured. When it finally walked into the open, the reality became clear - it was a greylag. Damn.

Now set up, Kev scanned back along the fenceline and picked up a fourth bird, partly obscured and previously overlooked as we had assumed the greylag was our target. Through the scopes it quickly became clear that this was indeed the bird we had come for.

The taiga bean goose is a large goose, slightly bigger and noticeably longer-necked than a pink-footed goose. It shows a strong, elongated profile, with a fairly long neck, gently sloping forehead, and substantial body. The head appears angular rather than rounded, giving the bird an alert, purposeful expression, and it looked tall and upright when standing.

Overall, the plumage was a cold grey brown. The upperparts were dark brown with pale feather fringes that created a scaled appearance, while the underparts appeared paler grey with darker barring along the flanks. The head and neck were darker than the body, giving a subtly hooded look. The bill, one of the key identification features, was long and mostly dark with a broad orange band across the middle. In taiga bean goose this orange band is typically extensive, though variable between individuals, and the bill often looks long and parallel-sided rather than stubby. The legs and feet were bright orange.

The bird had originally been reported as a tundra bean goose, one of many that have visited the UK this winter, but photographs later posted online led to its reidentification as a taiga bean goose.

We spent some time photographing and watching the geese as they fed and rested in the grass below us, gradually working their way to the right and eventually disappearing behind a denser stand of trees. By now the pink-foots had rejoined the taiga, while the greylag had drifted off elsewhere. Once the birds slipped out of view, we took it as our cue to move on.

As we walked back towards the car, who should arrive but Adrian Sparrowhawk and Bryan Manston, our friends from Banbury and Didcot. After sharing the bird’s location with them, we left them to it and headed off to search for a hoopoe that had been reported nearby, somewhere between the farm and the village, though it hadn’t been seen the previous day. Despite a thorough search, we came up empty-handed - the bird has most likely moved on.

Having enjoyed success with the taiga, we discussed our next move and decided on a visit to Ryton Pools. Kev hadn’t seen a ferruginous duck yet this year, and a smew had recently begun to be reported there again, a bird I had missed on my previous visit. We arrived, parked up, and agreed to look for the birds before stopping for lunch at the Visitor Centre.

It’s a relatively short walk from the car park to Paget’s Pool, where both the ferruginous duck and smew are usually reported, and along the way I allowed myself a small hope of encountering a bullfinch - though it wasn’t to be. Instead, we came across a flock of Hebridean sheep grazing quietly in a field beside the path.

The Hebridean sheep is a striking and ancient breed, instantly recognisable by its jet-black fleece and impressive multiple horns, often four in number, which sweep outward and curl elegantly around the head. Small but robust, it has a compact, primitive build well suited to harsh upland and island environments, reflecting its origins in the Hebrides of western Scotland. The coarse, dark wool and alert, narrow-faced expression give the animal a distinctly wild appearance compared with modern farm breeds. Highly hardy and adaptable, Hebridean sheep thrive on rough grazing and are now widely used in conservation projects, where their natural browsing helps maintain species-rich grassland and open landscapes.

We reached Paget's Pool and scanned the water, eventually spotting the ferruginous duck again, though at a considerable distance - first from the viewing platform and later from the track running along the pool’s edge. The bird seemed determined to keep its distance, always staying beside or beyond the tree-covered island that separates this side from the open water. While seeing this bird was the main reason for our visit, we also hoped to find a smew, and it didn’t take long. From the hide, I was joined by a woman who had seen the redhead from the next viewing platform. As I stepped outside to tell Kev, he said that he had just located it diving in the narrows.

At first, we could catch glimpses of the redhead smew through the trees along the water’s edge. By the time we moved to the viewing platform, however, we had uninterrupted views as the bird dived repeatedly in the narrows right in front of us - so close that we could often see her clearly beneath the surface.

A female (redhead) smew is a striking small diving duck, quite distinct from the male. Her overall plumage is a soft grey, with warm reddish-brown on the head fading into a pale, subtle throat. The body is pale grey with slightly darker flanks, and her wings show fine white edging that are more noticeable in flight. Compared to the boldly patterned black-and-white male, the female is understated yet elegant, blending soft earthy tones with subtle contrasts.

She is an adept diver, hunting small fish and invertebrates, and here we watched her successfully bring up both great-crested and smooth newts, a display of her skill and feeding behaviour.

The smew made its way back along the narrows into the larger pool, and we followed. Eventually, we returned to the hide, where we also spotted a buzzard on the far bank, busy with its prey - though what it was eating remained a mystery.

Eventually, we returned to the Visitor Centre and ordered some sandwiches for lunch. While waiting, we were scrolling on our phones when Kev spotted a post from Alan Boddington @alanbodd, noting that the garganey from the day before had been refound on East Marsh Pool. After finishing lunch, we jumped in the car and drove the short seven minutes to Warwickshire Wildlife Trust’s Brandon Marsh reserve, hoping the bird would stick around this time.

Passing through the Visitor Centre, we bumped into Alan Boddington, who mentioned it had been a surprise to see the garganey again, as everyone had been searching for it the day before but there they were, back on East Marsh Pool. We hurried through the reserve to the John Walton Hide, which overlooks the pool and the reeds where the pair had been active. As we settled in, I realised that beside me was Dennis Woodward @DennisW500, whom we hadn’t seen since Pitsford Reservoir last year when searching for the American golden plover. He mentioned we’d arrived at just the right moment - the pair had cruised into the bay after being out of view for a short while and were now busy feeding together.

Garganey are primarily dabbling ducks, feeding mostly at or near the water’s surface rather than diving. They tip forward in the water, submerging their head and neck while keeping their tail raised, allowing them to reach aquatic plants, seeds, and invertebrates just below the surface. Their diet includes aquatic insects, larvae, crustaceans, molluscs, and seeds, with insects and small invertebrates being especially important during the breeding season. Garganey can also take small amphibians, such as tadpoles or newts, when foraging in shallow water.

By mid-March, many garganey have formed pairs. A male and female are often seen feeding and moving closely together. At this stage, pair bonds are strong, but they are not yet involved in nest-building. In the UK, most March sightings are migrants passing through on their way north. Pairs may form at stopover sites, feeding together and resting, but they typically continue to breeding grounds further east or north. Reserves such as Brandon Marsh in the Midlands serve as important refuelling and resting sites rather than likely breeding sites.

However, garganey are confirmed as a rare breeding duck in Britain with an estimated 100–120 pairs nesting each year in suitable wetland habitats, including shallow marshes and flooded grasslands in central, southern, and eastern England. Because these birds are secretive and remain within dense vegetation during the breeding season, their numbers are difficult to monitor, and confirmed nests or broods are often hard to document.

The UK’s Rare Breeding Birds Panel includes garganey on its list of regularly reported breeding species, highlighting their status as a rare breeder rather than just a migrant. Nationally, breeding records are most frequent in areas such as the Ouse Washes, Norfolk Broads, Somerset Levels, and parts of eastern England, where extensive shallow wetlands provide ideal conditions.

After feeding for a while, the birds drifted further out into the bay and began preening and washing in the deeper water. The garganey often dipped repeatedly into the water, sometimes quite vigorously, flapping and creating splashes that helped loosen dirt and parasites before preening. The male was particularly energetic, frequently tipping forward and performing partial somersaults, submerging his head and neck while keeping his feet raised skyward - an entertaining display that he repeated at least half a dozen times.

After spending some time watching the garganey pair, we returned to the car and headed home, content with having seen a lifer, Kev finally catching up with the “fudge duck", and connecting with garganey that I’d/we'd missed on previous days. Another great day out.

Year list: 197.

Deeping Lakes & RSPB Nene Washes :: 06 January 2026

Kev @kev07713 and I had a chat about whether we could fit in a birding trip during the week. Kev was tied up on Monday, while I already had commitments on Wednesday and Thursday, so we settled on Tuesday. After weighing up the options, we decided on our annual pilgrimage to Deeping Lakes in search of long-eared owls. The site also regularly holds little owls and, at present, a lone snow goose that has been associating with a mixed flock of mute and whooper swans.

With freezing conditions forecast, we agreed to meet a little later than usual, at 6.30am. Whatever we did, we were likely to miss the snow goose leaving the roost as the swan flock headed out to the fields to feed. Continuing a recent pattern, we took an alternative route from Banbury to Northampton because of road closures linked to HS2 works and Google Maps having a mental breakdown; once on the diversion, the satnav sent us off the signed route and along a maze of back roads and villages, eventually depositing us at the far end of the A43 before Northampton - a very strange start to the journey.

We hoped for an update enroute that would give us a steer on where to look for the swan flock. We stopped for breakfast along the way and, sure enough, the update came through: the flock containing the snow goose had relocated to fields alongside Deeping High Bank, north of Crowland Road and east of the Deeping Lakes Reserve.

Armed with this pin drop, we navigated to the indicated fields and pulled in by the roadside to scan the swan flocks. There were two distinct groups: one mainly of mute swans and another, further along the road, dominated by whooper swans. It took only a few minutes before Kev picked out the snow goose and handed me his binoculars so I could confirm it for myself. We then drove on to a small pull-in at the sharp bend in the road leading up onto the Welland Bank, which runs alongside the River Welland.

As we set up the scope and retrieved the camera from the boot, the snow goose promptly sat down, tucked its bill under its wing, and went to sleep - typical! Fortunately, after a few minutes it stood up again and began feeding among the almost 250 largely whooper swans; it sat down a couple more times but was soon back on its feet, strolling about once more. Although the flock was fairly distant, we still enjoyed good views through the scope.

Eventually, I climbed the bank and looked out over the river, picking up various ducks and a grey heron. Over the surrounding fields a few red kites drifted, while sizeable gatherings of corvids moved about in the distance.

By now we were itching to get onto the reserve. We were soon parked up, boots on, scopes balanced on our shoulders, and setting off from the car park. A birder was already stationed on the bank of the River Welland, peering through his scope, so we climbed up to join him to see if he was watching anything in particular. On the river there were at least six goosanders, little grebes, three or four great white egrets, a few Canada geese, and a wide assortment of ducks and coot.

After a while the birder moved on, and we were fortunate to be in position when a large flock of greylag geese lifted from below the far bank and dropped onto the water. We began working through the flock carefully, checking that there were no white-fronted geese among them. Kev then picked out a single pink-footed goose, which swam away from us and out towards the middle of the river.

From the bank it made sense to go through the gate and make our way down to the area where the little owls are usually seen. On the way we spoke with a birder who had already been there and who described the tree in which the bird had been sitting. Before long we were setting up our scopes and scanning the indicated tree, but there was no sign of it. Before I could move on to check the surrounding trees, Kev picked up our bird in a tree further to the left, initially very obscured by twigs.

We repositioned ourselves slightly to the right and, although the view was still not completely clear, we were able to watch the bird much better - I took a few photos while Kev captured some video. A green woodpecker then flew through the area and later returned to land on the far side of one of the trees.

Eventually it was time to pack up and head back along the main track. Kev had already put his scope away while I finished scanning, but I had to call him back when I spotted another little owl, deep in cover in a tree even further to the left. Kev rejoined me and we watched this second bird until it retreated down into a hole, which may well be where they roost or nest.

It was now time to push on towards the hide where the long-eared owls roost. Along the way we encountered a flock of long-tailed tits, and at the head of the group were two treecreepers - a welcome year tick. We also passed several volunteers busy with site management, trimming back trees to let in more light and keep the paths clear. One group was tending a small fire made from the thinner branches; they had the best job of all, being at least close to a source of warmth.

When we arrived, the hide was empty and one long-eared owl was immediately visible, although largely obscured by ivy on the tree. Kev and I each picked up different additional birds, and so between us we felt there were at least three owls roosting. It is always interesting how these birds choose to roost so close to the hide and appear unconcerned by people watching them from little more than twenty feet away. We paused to enjoy some coffee and tea before other birders arrived, and we pointed out the owls to them. While it was good to see the birds at all, it was a little unfortunate that they were so well concealed - though whatever makes them feel comfortable and safe is clearly what matters most.

We later stopped along the track to scan the trees and bushes on the opposite bank, where we have seen long-eared owls perched before, but there was no sign this time. We eventually returned to the car and decided to head on to RSPB Nene Washes (aka Eldernell), hoping to add a few more species to both the day and year lists.

Arriving at Eldernell we climbed up onto the bank and saw a birder scanning the bushes, the same guy we'd talked to at Deeping. It was lucky we had bumped into him as he had a thermal monocular and had located three long-eared owls, one of which was in reasonably clear view (for a long-eared owl), with great scope views.

As soon as we were on two of the owls, the chap with the infrared monocular moved on to see what else he could find. It wasn’t long before we started to pack up to followed him but spotted something land in the trees beside us, calling - a kingfisher. Kev had heard the call and was onto it in a flash, just as a second bird called from our right. The long-eared owl reacted to the kingfisher landing so close and woke - the moment captured brilliantly in one of Kev's videos (here). They continued calling as we searched for them, and then one suddenly popped into view in the tree right in front of us - how we hadn’t seen it sooner was a mystery. The two birds then flew back along the hedge line, one of them remaining pleasingly exposed.

Looking out across the fields, we could see marsh harriers quartering the reeds on the horizon or passing through. Several kestrels were hunting, and a pale-phase buzzard was perched on a series of posts.

The chap with the infrared monocular later returned and began showing another couple of birders where they could get views of the long-eared owls. I was slightly suspicious that the most difficult owl to see might actually be a short-eared owl, and once I had the scope on it the differences in facial structure and eye colour became apparent. It was buried deep in cover and extremely difficult to photograph. We chatted with the other birders, and it soon became clear that the much-photographed tawny owl was not around this year and was no longer giving views from its usual tree hole. There was also no sign of the barn owls, although a new box has appeared on land where we have previously watched one hunting.

It wasn’t going to be a four- or five-owl day; but three is more than enough, and there’s no need to be greedy.

As the light began to fade, we made our way back past the car park towards the area where egrets are known to roost. Although we had seen plenty of great white egrets this year, I hadn’t yet come across a little egret. Before we got too far, Kev spotted a sparrowhawk crossing a field and disappearing into some trees - I was too far behind to see it. A little egret flew past, followed shortly by a great white dropping in among a flock of sheep with three grey herons, and then another sparrowhawk zipped through. In the distance, we also picked up two more marsh harriers.

As we reached the car, two fighter jets roared in the sky, instantly drawing our attention - F-35 Lightning II's; it doesn’t just sound loud, it dominates the soundscape, combining raw power, depth, and weight in a way that is intimidating and unforgettable. The F-35 is a fifth-generation stealth multirole fighter built by Lockheed Martin, combining low observability (although we could see it 😂), and supersonic performance. Apparently one of the most capable combat aircraft in service today.

Most of the UK’s fleet consists of the F-35B variant, designed for short take-off and vertical landing (STOVL) operations. This allows the aircraft to operate from the Royal Navy’s aircraft carriers, HMS Queen Elizabeth and HMS Prince of Wales, as well as from shorter or less-prepared airstrips ashore.

The UK currently operates around 37 F-35B jets, based at RAF Marham, near King’s Lynn in Norfolk. The aircraft has a maximum speed of Mach 1.6 (around 1,200 mph) and is powered by a Pratt & Whitney F135 engine producing approximately 19,500 lb of dry thrust, rising to around 40,000 lb with afterburner and lift fan engaged.

Knowing the journey home would take at least two and a half hours, we packed up our gear and set off, content after a full and rewarding day in the field.

Year list 96.