In the space of just six days, I’d managed to miss two wrynecks, so when I heard that one was repeatedly showing well, and, rather remarkably, doing so in the Freiston Shore RSPB car park, it immediately caught my attention.
It wasn’t as though there weren’t plenty of other birds to see, but wrynecks are one of those species that can be surprisingly difficult to catch up with. Miss a couple when they turn up and, before you know it, you can be waiting a long time for another opportunity to get one onto the year list. Having already struck out twice in less than a week, I thought it was probably time to put an end to my wryneck losing streak. Fortunately, Kev @kev07713 was up for an attempt, keen to get some better views after his fleeting glimpse a few days earlier and supporting my attempt to see 300 species for the year.
Wrynecks are one of those birds that turn up in the UK during autumn migration and cause quite a stir among birders. Although they breed across much of mainland Europe, they are a relatively scarce passage migrant here, with most records occurring in late summer and autumn as birds make their way south towards their wintering grounds in Africa. Only around 100–500 wrynecks are recorded in Britain in a typical year, making them a genuinely scarce autumn visitor.
They weren't always the scarce visitors they are today. They were once a breeding species in Britain, particularly across southern and eastern England, where they inhabited open woodland, heathland, orchards and other areas with plenty of dead wood and ants – an important part of their diet.
Sadly, numbers declined steadily through the 19th and 20th centuries, and wrynecks eventually disappeared as a regular breeding bird.
Despite being a member of the woodpecker family, wrynecks are anything but typical looking. Their intricately marked, brown and grey plumage gives them superb camouflage, allowing them to disappear remarkably easily against tree bark, leaf litter and dead vegetation. They also have an unusual habit of creeping around on the ground rather than spending much of their time climbing tree trunks like most woodpeckers.
Their migration largely brings them to coastal parts of Britain, when suitable weather conditions can result in several birds being discovered around the country. Finding one, however, is another matter entirely. Their cryptic plumage and secretive behaviour make them notoriously difficult to locate, even when you know one is somewhere in the area.
By all accounts, though, this individual was being exceptionally cooperative. It had been showing remarkably well, apparently allowing birders some excellent views as it fed and moved around the edge of the car park, rather than behaving like the typically elusive wryneck that can vanish into the vegetation at the slightest disturbance.
That combination of rarity, strange appearance and sheer elusiveness makes the wryneck a particularly rewarding bird to find - and a particularly frustrating one to miss!
Kev picked me up and we made our way up towards Boston, stopping enroute for a comfort break before hitting a growing queue of traffic as we approached the town. The reason soon became apparent. Stage 2 of the cycling Tour of Britain was running from Boston to Skegness that day, so the roads were considerably busier than usual, with the normal mix of work and school traffic joined by supporters, race vehicles and other event traffic.
Adding to the spectacle was a convoy of more than 30 police motorcyclists, accompanied by four police vehicles, which certainly wasn't something you see every day on the way to a birding site. Eventually, after slowly making our way through the congestion, we reached the car park.
There were already around a dozen people gathered together, all looking towards the same area. This had to be the spot. Presumably, the wryneck was showing, or at least had been showing, somewhere in front of them.
We grabbed our cameras and binoculars and joined the group. Initially, the bird was tucked away in cover, but it was only a few minutes before it emerged into view, although it remained partially obscured in the centre of a dense patch of scrub.
Apparently, it had been feeding well and was now taking a short break before continuing. Chatting to some of the other birders, it soon became clear that the wryneck had a particular favourite spot: a tangle of twigs towards the front left of the scrub. There was a sizeable nest of ants there, which presumably explained why the bird kept returning to the same spot. If the food was good, there was little reason to go elsewhere - and it was probably one of the things that had encouraged it to stick around.
We watched as it slowly worked its way around the scrub, gradually disappearing from view before eventually reappearing at the back. From there, it began making its way down the slope, giving us the first real opportunity to watch it as it moved through the vegetation.
It paused on the slope for a moment, seemingly taking in its surroundings and surveying the growing crowd of birders watching its every move. It didn't appear overly concerned by all the attention - perhaps it was simply taking a moment to count how many admirers it had managed to attract.
It continued down the slope and immediately began feeding, initially keeping low among the sticks, just below their height. Gradually, though, it worked its way upwards until it was perched right on top, giving us much better views as it fed busily.
It was fascinating to watch as it moved methodically through the sticks, pausing frequently to probe into cracks and crevices with its bill. Every so often there would be a sudden movement as it located something, followed by that wonderfully bizarre tongue flicking out to investigate further.
Wrynecks have an unusually long tongue, perfectly adapted for their diet of ants and their larvae. Once it had located a likely target, the tongue would shoot out surprisingly quickly, reaching well beyond the end of the bill, before disappearing again almost as quickly. Watching this close up made it easy to see just how specialised the bird is for extracting ants from places that other birds would struggle to reach.
It would occasionally pause, before continuing its methodical search through the vegetation. Given the sizeable ant nest, it was clearly onto a good thing and seemed in no particular hurry to leave.
A dog walker appeared just after the bird had disappeared back into the scrub but thankfully caused no significant disturbance. We heard that on previous occasions the wryneck had flown from the scrub over to the apple tree behind, but this time it seemed quite content to stay put.
Once it reappeared in the open, a couple of walkers/birders made their way down the slope and, perhaps unsurprisingly, sent it scuttling back into the deeper cover. At least it remained within the same patch of scrub, so we weren't having to start the search all over again.
Thankfully, it wasn't long before it emerged once more, this time climbing onto a pile of sticks where it sat beautifully in full view. It seemed almost to realise that everyone had cameras pointed in its direction and decided to cooperate. There it sat, patiently posing for us and providing some excellent photo opportunities - a real little poser!
With more birders arriving and the wryneck currently out of view, we decided it was probably a good time to retreat to the car, pack away our kit and leave the growing crowd to it. After a short discussion, we decided to head over to RSPB Frampton Marsh, where we could grab some breakfast and have a look around the reserve.
We had one target in mind: merlin. Kev still needed one for his year list, whereas I had somehow managed to tick one 'accidentally' back at the end of January. I'd been out birding on my own, trying to catch up with a few species that Kev had already seen while out with his sister and her partner, when a merlin had rather helpfully crossed my path.
We checked with the reserve volunteers, who confirmed that merlin had been seen around the reserve recently, and we asked whether it was still favouring its usual perches. With that information in mind, we stopped to scan the likely spots but again came up empty-handed.
Moving further into the reserve, we started scanning the muddy edges and pools to see what else might be around. We soon began finding plenty to keep us occupied, including two little stints, more than 15 Spoonbills, a couple of ruff, our first pintails of the autumn, a few returning wigeon and a couple of avocets, along with the usual assortment of waders and wildfowl.
No merlin, but there was certainly no shortage of birds to look through while we hoped for one to put in an appearance. We decided to make our way down to the sea wall and scan the saltmarsh, hoping that a merlin might be perched on one of the posts or anything else that gave it a slightly elevated vantage point. We scanned and scanned, but the merlin remained absent.
There were plenty of kestrels to keep us occupied, with up to four in view at times. A couple even took exception to passing marsh harriers, mobbing them as they crossed the marsh. The kestrels themselves occasionally caught our attention when they settled on the posts, giving us that brief moment of excitement before we realised they were, unfortunately, exactly what they looked like - kestrels rather than the merlin we were hoping for.
Eventually, we worked our way back towards the Visitor Centre, stopping for a well-earned drink before making a final few scans of the reserve. With no sign of our target bird, we decided there was little more we could do, so we packed away the kit and headed for home, leaving the merlin for another day.
Saturday arrived and, after a bit of discussion, we decided to head out in search of a red-backed shrike. There were two birds on offer, but the choice was straightforward. One was a little further away, but reports suggested it was showing well, while the other was being described as ‘elusive’. Both were first-winter birds, so there was little to choose between them on appearance - the main objective was simply to make sure we didn't dip!
We did have a backup plan, though. If the shrike received a negative report, we would divert to Lisvane Reservoir and try for the grey phalarope instead. As it happened, a positive report came through at around 7.00am, so that settled it - Derbyshire it was.
We set off, stopping at a service area for a comfort break before leaving the M1 and continuing past Chesterfield, with the prospect of a red-backed shrike waiting somewhere ahead.
We arrived at the car park and set off down the hill noticing the new housing estate and a field full of travellers below but our area was in the opposite direction and the pool around which our bird was feeding.
Avenue Washlands is an interesting wetland reserve just south of Chesterfield, occupying part of the site of the former Avenue Coking Works. It's one of those places where the industrial history of the landscape is difficult to imagine now, with reedbeds, marsh, ponds and grassland providing a surprisingly attractive setting for wildlife.
The reserve lies in the valley of the River Rother and has developed into an important site for wetland and farmland birds. Depending on the season, the pools and marsh are reported to hold species such as wigeon, teal, snipe, little grebe and lapwing, while the surrounding grassland and scrub support skylarks, yellowhammers, linnets and various warblers. The reedbeds can also attract migrants and, on occasion, something rather scarcer - bitterns have been recorded here.
It's also a good site for wildlife beyond birds, with water voles, great crested newts, grass snakes and a good selection of dragonflies and other insects recorded around the reserve. There are viewing screens and a mixture of paths and boardwalks, making it relatively easy to explore and scan the wetland areas.
Perhaps one of the more spectacular seasonal events mentioned is the autumn passage of swallows. The reedbeds have previously held between 10,000 and 15,000 birds as they gather to feed and roost before beginning their long journey south to Africa - an impressive sight over a reserve that has come a remarkably long way from its industrial past.
Red-backed shrikes are a particularly interesting bird in the British context. They weren't always the scarce visitors that they are today; once they were a widespread breeding species across much of England and Wales. Their fortunes changed dramatically from the middle of the 19th century onwards, with numbers steadily declining as suitable habitat disappeared and changes in agriculture reduced the availability of the large insects and other prey on which they depend.
By 1989, the species had effectively disappeared as a regular breeding bird in Britain, although there have been occasional breeding attempts since. These days, we're more likely to encounter them as passage migrants. In an ordinary year, there are probably only a few dozen birds nationally - 2024 was exceptional with a major spring influx producing at least 302 birds across Britain during 20–27 May alone.
That makes seeing one a rather special occasion. They also have a habit of sitting prominently on fence posts, bushes and other vantage points while watching for prey, which can make them surprisingly easy to spot when they're being cooperative. And when one is showing well, as ours was, it's hard not to appreciate just how smart looking these little shrikes are.
It wasn't difficult to work out where the bird was - a line of birders were already pointing scopes, binoculars and cameras in the same direction. We joined the group and were quickly told where the red-backed shrike had been seen, although, naturally, it had decided to disappear just before we arrived.
While we were scanning the area, Kev suddenly pointed towards a distant wire - “there it is.”
Sure enough, there was the bird, moving between the wires and fence posts - the shrike was clearly on show.
The shrike then flew from the fence and into a tree to our left, but unfortunately chose a less cooperative perch, partially obscured by branches and leaves that were constantly moving in the breeze.
The shrike then worked its way around the edge of the pool, darting to catch insects, dropping down into the bushes and grass. It regularly perched on brambles, branches and reed stems, giving us plenty of opportunities to watch its behaviour as it hunted.
Unfortunately, the light wasn't ideal. The harsh sunshine created a noticeable haze and, combined with the constantly moving vegetation, made getting decent photographs rather challenging. But it's not always about the photos, and the shrike gave us some excellent views and, more importantly, plenty of interesting behaviour to enjoy.
We eventually made our way back to the car, stopping at a couple of sites on the way home. First up was a regular spot where we'd seen merlin a few times before. We had a look, but despite scanning the likely areas, there was no sign of one this time.
We then dropped into Balscote Quarry for an hour or so to see what we could find, with the bowl looking particularly dry and little, if any, water remaining. Even without the water, though, there's always something to see, and the quarry didn't disappoint. We recorded 23 bird species, along with six clouded yellow butterflies, three muntjac deer, and a hare.
Eventually, it was time to call it a day and head home, ready to get myself organised for an evening out.
Year list: 288.
