Into Somerset and South Gloucestershire :: 31 January 2026

Kev @kev07713 and I were weighing up our options for Saturday when we decided on another trip down into Somerset, hoping to finally catch up with the Kentish plover we’d recently missed. There were two clear bonuses to the plan: it would give us the chance to meet up with Karen @hobbylovinglife and Dean @worlebirder, who were also thinking of heading there first thing, and there were several other quality birds in the area that would make the journey worthwhile.

The Kentish plover currently frequenting Burnham-on-Sea has become one of the most remarkable coastal birds in Britain in recent years. Now a scarce and often fleeting visitor to the UK, this individual has defied expectations by returning to the same stretch of Somerset coast winter after winter.

Once a breeding species in southern England, the Kentish plover disappeared as a UK breeding species by the late 1970s, largely due to habitat loss and disturbance. Today it is classed as a rare migrant, with most records involving single birds that stay only briefly. Against that backdrop, the Burnham-on-Sea bird stands out as truly exceptional.

First recorded there in the winter of 2019–20, it settled among the regular wader flocks on the beach and adjacent mudflats, often associating with ringed plover. Rather than moving on, it remained for extended periods, allowing prolonged views and a chance to become familiar with its behaviour and changing plumage. Even more remarkably, it returned in subsequent winters, showing clear site fidelity to Burnham-on-Sea. The story gained wider significance when tracking work later confirmed its continental origins, linking this modest Somerset shoreline with breeding grounds in northern Europe.

We made an early start, arriving on the esplanade shortly after dawn to give ourselves the best possible chance. The conditions weren’t ideal - the tide was falling (high tide at 5.17am, low at 11.51am) and dog walkers were already on the beach - but we were keen to be in position early. We’d skipped breakfast, planning instead to meet Karen and Dean for food once we were done at Burnham.

I pulled up outside the café on the esplanade - Kev and I unloaded our gear. It quickly became apparent that this stretch of parking might incur charges, whereas just 50 metres down the road it was clearly signed as free between October and March, so I moved the car while Kev set up and began scanning the area where the Kentish plover had most recently been reported. By the time I returned he already had the bird, and I jumped onto his scope for a look, just in case. It was only just visible through binoculars, but soon I had it in my own scope and noticed a small group of ringed plovers off to the left, all alert and occasionally preening. There was still little light, but I took a few insurance shots.

Some time later Karen and Dean arrived, delayed by the need to drop Dean’s car and keys at the garage for repairs, and by a stop for breakfast en route. Once the café opened, Kev went in and emerged with sausage baps, which we ate while continuing to watch the bird and scan the beach and Stert Island. On the island a peregrine was devouring what must have been a recently caught bird, while off the point there were large numbers of shelduck and dozens of curlews. A flock of wigeon whirled in and settled on the water, and increasing numbers of grey plover appeared in the distance. The light gradually improved as the sun briefly broke through, although its low angle made it rather harsh on the bird.

Karen wandered off to see if she could get a better angle, and when she returned we discussed our next move. A red-necked grebe at Cheddar Reservoir seemed the obvious choice. Red-necked grebes are migratory waterbirds that breed on northern freshwater lakes and wetlands across much of northern Europe and Asia, moving south in winter. In the UK they are scarce winter visitors and passage migrants, most often recorded along sheltered coastlines between October and March, but they do occasionally turn up on large inland waters, particularly after periods of unsettled weather.

The subspecies most frequently encountered in Britain is the European form, Podiceps grisegena grisegena. Birds of this subspecies breed across northern and eastern Europe and into central Asia, migrating to wintering areas that include the north-west European seaboard. Another subspecies is Podiceps grisegena holbollii, which breeds in North America, Alaska and eastern Siberia and is exceptionally rare in Britain, with only a handful of confirmed records.

There has been some discussion surrounding the Cheddar bird, particularly regarding bill length in comparison with the typical European form, but identification of the American (Holbøll’s) subspecies would require biometric measurements or DNA evidence before it could be considered by the British Birds Rarities Committee (BBRC).

We followed Dean and Karen down to the car park at the end of the reservoir where the grebe had been reported earlier, then climbed up onto the perimeter path, immediately linking up with Dean who already had the bird in his scope. The light was good from this vantage point, but the grebe was at extreme range. I took a quick record shot before following Karen around to the edge, where we would be as close as we could get - Kev and Dean stayed put as they were taking video through their scopes.

The light flanks seem to suggest this bird may not be holboellii - they tend to be darker overall, particularly on the flanks that are often the same or a similar colour as on their back - within the grisegena subspecies, bill length varies normally between individuals and some birds simply sit at the longer-billed end of the distribution. Juveniles also often have proportionally slimmer, sometimes seemingly longer bills compared to head size, which can give a “long-beaked” impression even if absolute length isn’t greater. There is an interesting article on the species here.

The bird was closer now, but largely in silhouette with the brighter light behind it. The priority was to study it carefully through the scope while also trying to salvage the best photographs possible from the conditions. Gradually the grebe began to drift closer and hopes rose of improved views, with Kev, Dean and a few other birders now having joined us. Those hopes were quickly dashed when a paddleboarder passed through, pushing the birds away from the shoreline, and our grebe eventually resumed feeding at distance. As if to mirror the turn of events, rain (tears) began to fall. When it eased slightly, I picked up a black-necked grebe on the far side of the reservoir, which Kev also managed to locate. The red-crested pochards previously reported appeared to have departed, but we did see a pair of goosanders before they too moved on.

Dean and Karen decided to walk round to look for the black-necked grebes, but Kev and I didn’t feel the need for better views, having enjoyed excellent ones at Staines Reservoir recently. After saying our goodbyes, we jumped back in the car and headed for RSPB Ham Wall, where a pair of ring-necked ducks had been reported. Initially a single drake had been present from 19 November, with numbers increasing to two drakes by 13 December. The ducks were on a small pit east of Allotment Drove at Sharpham, and when we arrived to check the area, it dawned on us that this was the same spot where we had seen a Squacco heron back in October 2023. (blog post here).

Ring-necked ducks in the UK are rare but increasingly regular vagrants from North America, with multiple records each year. They’re considered a scarce migrant/scarce visitor, and while their status isn’t as unpredictable as it once was, they still attract interest when found because of their origins and relatively low numbers here - typically there are around 10 or more individuals recorded annually, though totals can be higher in some years. Although called “ring-necked”, the neck ring is subtle; the white bill rings are usually the most reliable field feature.

We checked the pit where the ducks had last been reported and bumped into another birder, a friend of Dean and Karen, who had apparently spotted us as we left Burnham-on-Sea. After a brief chat we split up to search in opposite directions: he headed back towards the original pit, reasoning that the birds often tuck themselves in among the reeds along the water’s edge, while we made for the larger body of water where the Squacco heron had been. Kev set up his scope and, as he raised it, the two drakes were already in view. He asked if I fancied another year tick and I took a look. The birds drifted closer together before swimming off towards the reed edge, where they began diving and feeding along the margins, the stems twitching as they worked their way through underwater and bubbles breaking the surface above them.

We could see siskins flitting in the trees overhead, marsh harriers drifting through, and caught a brief glimpse of a Cetti’s warbler before wandering down the track, where we encountered over 80 mute swans and a group of agitated long-tailed tits in a small tree. As Kev approached, he noted that a bird had dropped out and appeared to be a sparrowhawk, the likely cause of the tits’ alarm. Within a couple of minutes, Kev spotted it fanning its tail in a distant tree, presumably drying its feathers after the recent rain.

Before we packed up, a flock of geese flew through. While I was still watching the sparrowhawk, Kev looked up and spotted a white-fronted goose among them. I raised my camera and took a shot of the flock, counting around 60 birds, all Russian white-fronted geese.

It was time to start heading home, but on the way we made a detour to Oldbury Power Station, where my wife Charlotte and I had seen black redstarts at the end of October last year (report here). We made our way around to the compounds where I have seen these birds previously. After about five minutes, I spotted a female flick up into the sky before dropping from view. I continued scanning and soon saw it again at the base of some railings, only for it to disappear once more. Kev scanned the area but drew a blank, so I took over the scope to focus precisely where I had last seen it. Within a minute, it popped up, and I was able to share it with Kev.

We decided to move onto the track along the estuary wall, hoping for a better view into the compound. Despite a thorough search, we came up empty-handed. Kev returned towards the spot we had watched from earlier, and as he reached the corner to leave the track and climb the slope, he spotted the redstart on the ground between two trailers. He called me over, and I arrived in time to watch it hopping forward, still at a distance. Kev moved on, and as I waited, the bird hopped onto a traffic cone, perching there for a couple of minutes before being flushed by a stonechat and disappearing from view. I returned to join Kev, but we couldn’t relocate it.

It was definitely time to head home, so we returned to the car, stopping briefly in the orchard along the way. There, we spotted a couple of jays, two green woodpeckers, a great spotted woodpecker, fieldfares, redwings, a goldcrest, and a mix of tits and finches. Kev also heard some siskins, though we never managed to locate them.

Another great day out, and it was wonderful to catch up with Karen and Dean again.

Year list: 153.

Beachy Head Belle Tout Lighthouse :: 26 October 2024

A 4 a.m. start with Kev @kev07713 on a last-minute decision - and it turned out to be well worth it. With limited choices for notable sights within a reasonable distance from Banbury, we decided on a trip to Beachy Head, where a desert wheatear had been reported. Spotting it would be a first for both Kev and I.

Beachy Head is a prominent chalk headland on the southern coast of England, located near Eastbourne in East Sussex. It rises dramatically about 162 meters (531 feet) above sea level, making it the highest chalk sea cliff in Britain. The site is renowned for its spectacular views over the English Channel, its steep white cliffs, have made it a popular tourist destination as well as a significant natural landmark.

Often referred to as the “The Lighthouse on the Hill,” Belle Tout Lighthouse sits atop the cliffs near Beachy Head and was constructed in 1832. However, due to frequent fog at that height, its visibility was limited, leading to the construction of Beachy Head Lighthouse down at sea level. Belle Tout was moved 17 meters (55 feet) inland in 1999 due to cliff erosion. The entire structure was relocated to preserve it from collapsing over the edge. Now a private residence and guesthouse, Belle Tout no longer functions as a navigational aid but remains a historical attraction.

Both Beachy Head and the Belle Tout Lighthouse are integral parts of the South Downs National Park.

With mixed weather forecasts in mind and three nearby running events scheduled, we decided to set off early to avoid any potential crowds and traffic disruptions. We paused for breakfast along the way and arrived around 7:30 a.m. Rather than using the main car park, which was sure to be filled with spectators and runners, we chose a layby nearby. This cut down the walking distance, but the steeper climb made up for it. We paced ourselves up the slope, and a light drizzle began - would the BBC app's rain prediction be right, or would the Weather Channel's dry forecast win out? We carried waterproofs in our rucksacks, just in case.

At the top, we heard Dartford warblers calling from the gorse bushes. It took a few minutes to spot them as they skulked in the early light. To our right, we spotted song thrushes, blackbirds, and meadow pipits on the grass, joined by a few pied wagtails. As we continued our climb, gradually levelling out, the cliffs along the coast came into view, bringing us closer to the lighthouse where our target bird had reportedly roosted the night before. We spotted a small group of birders scanning for the wheatear near the lighthouse, though their scattered scanning suggested it hadn’t shown itself yet. We hoped it was still around.

Kev scanned the grass between us and the lighthouse, and within minutes, he spotted the bird. After watching from a distance, we moved closer to join the other birders, who were approaching from the opposite direction.

The desert wheatear is a rare visitor to the UK, but when found are primarily sighted along the coasts in autumn and early winter. This small, sandy-colored bird typically inhabits arid and semi-arid regions in North Africa, the Middle East, and Central Asia, so its appearance in the UK is unusual and generally caused by strong winds or storms during migration, pushing it off its usual route.

They are frequently found on coastal headlands, open beaches, and dunes. When found, birders seek them out for their striking appearance - in particular males exhibit distinctive pale plumage with bold black markings on their wings, tail, and throat, while females display a more muted colouration. Our friend Nick Truby spotted a male a couple of years ago, but this time, our bird was a female. These birds feed primarily on insects and are often surprisingly approachable, apparently allowing for closer observation than many other rare migrants.

Now standing with the other birders, we took photos and videos, allowing the bird to come closer rather than moving toward it. It seemed content to forage around the area, appearing entirely unbothered by our presence. The light was gradually improving.

We chatted with the other birders, all equally delighted with the views we’d had. A man with a camera and long lens then came up the slope, moving close to the cliff edge, seemingly unaware of the bird or of our small group watching it. He strode past, repeatedly flushing the bird until it flew closer to the cliff’s edge, finally settling briefly on a small patch of scrub. After a few minutes, it took off again, flying along the cliff’s edge and up to the wall surrounding the lighthouse and its garden.

We struck up a conversation with one of the birders, a young guy we recognised from Twitter, though we only made the connection after he introduced himself as Henry Wyn-Jones @henrywynjones). Another birder, a woman, was eager to search for a black redstart reportedly seen near the lighthouse the previous day, though she couldn’t locate it. Shortly after, two raptors sped past in quick succession; Kev was 90% sure the first was a merlin, and the second was a peregrine.

The desert wheatear continued its foraging in the damp grass, occasionally hopping up onto the lighthouse walls for a rest and a preen, giving excellent views. It perched there for quite some time, undisturbed even as some walkers approached the lighthouse gates to read the information board. It barely seemed to notice them, carrying on with its morning. After a while, the bird dropped over the cliff edge and out of sight. Overhead, flocks of linnets, goldfinches, and meadow pipits flew by, their calls filling the air. Henry spotted a rock pipit among them, and we also saw and heard three corn buntings.

We continued chatting, but as more people began arriving along the paths, it became clear that increased activity would lead to more disturbance, and our bird would likely settle less. It gave us one last close pass before we headed off with Henry to search for the Dartford warblers we’d seen and heard earlier.

We could hear a few Dartford warblers calling, but it took about five minutes before we spotted one darting across the path through the gorse. Just as we were about to move forward, a sparrowhawk flew behind the trees but didn’t reappear. As we continued down toward the hill’s brow, we saw flocks of meadow pipits and goldfinches. Off to the left, a Dartford warbler briefly landed in view on a small tree.

We watched as it disappeared from sight, only to reappear moments later with two others close behind. They didn’t stay still long enough for a photo, but following them, we managed to capture a quick shot when one paused briefly atop a gorse bush.

We watched on as a paddle boarder traced his way along the base of the cliffs, his figure tiny against the towering white chalk. The board moved steadily across the calm water, contrasting beautifully with the wild, rugged cliffs above. The scene was peaceful yet striking - a quiet journey along one of the coast's most dramatic and breathtaking stretches.

We dropped down to a small copse, hoping to spot something unusual, but found nothing of particular note. Henry headed home, while we moved to another copse near the car, where we watched various tit species, goldcrests, and a blackcap feeding on insects, taking advantage of the now calm conditions. Thankfully, the rain had held off. Deciding to head back to Banbury, we kept an eye out for anything interesting along the way, though progress was slow, with several spots partially blocked by runners and spectators.

Finding nothing noteworthy enroute, we detoured to Bicester Wetland Reserve in hopes of spotting a jack snipe - our usual spot for them, Summer Leys in Northants, still had water levels that were reported to be too high. We stopped off and collected a sandwich for lunch on the way. Scanning the water, we counted over 95 teal and 36 coot before a sparrowhawk swooped just below the hide’s window, scattering the birds as it landed near the feeding station.

We picked out six snipe but never had a sniff of a jack. Another great day out.

Year list: 242.

RSPB Middleton Lakes & Bittell Reservoir :: 31 August 2024

With few notable sightings nearby on Friday, Kev@kev07713 and I decided to head to RSPB Middleton Lakes on Saturday morning to try our luck at spotting the pectoral sandpiper that had been reported several times. We also learned that Kev’s sister @hobbylovinglife and her partner in crime, Dean @worlebirder, were planning to visit as well, making the trip all the way from Weston-super-Mare. We stopped for breakfast on the way, were on site before 7.30am, and set off to see if we could locate the bird before Karen and Dean arrived. We chatted to a local birder and walked with him to the West Scrape where we stopped to scan across to Jubilee Wetlands South. No sign of our bird.

We kept scanning the area, but with no sign of the bird, Kev and I decided to split up—Kev covering the west side of the pool while I checked Jubilee South. I spoke with some passing birders who showed me the spot where the pectoral sandpiper had been frequently seen, though it wasn’t there now. After a little while, Karen and Dean arrived, and I pointed out Kev’s location - together, we continued our vigil.

We could see a few birds around the edges of the pools including a juvenile water rail - it worked along feeding constantly, but distant.

We noticed a large group of lapwings on the island in front of us and thought our bird might be roosting among them. A couple more birders joined us, and I recognised one as Simon Bradfield @SimonBradfield - I hadn’t seen him since we were watching short-eared owls in the Cotswolds earlier this year. He’d crossed paths with Dean and Karen in the meantime, but had never met Kev in person, though they follow each other on X. With plenty of eyes on the spot, Kev moved ahead to try a different angle but ended up missing a flyby sparrowhawk that spooked many of the birds, including the lapwings. Unfortunately, the shuffle didn’t reveal our target.

In the distance we could see two hobbies, hunting high mostly but occasionally dropping down to the reed bed. Hobbies typically leave the UK in late September to early October, migrating to Africa, mainly south of the Sahara where they spend the colder months before returning in late April/May for the breeding season.

I caught up with Kev just as a black-tailed godwit flew from the pool in front of him, only to settle back at the spot I had just left. We continued our search until Karen and Dean decided to do a circuit of the reserve, and we headed back to the screen by the West Scrape. Along the way, Karen and Dean spotted one of the hobbies on the ground — a rare sight — and we also saw a yellow wagtail. When they were on the opposite end of the reed bed we took photos of each other. Kev and I keep remarking that each yellow wagtail we see might be the last of the year, yet they keep appearing.

As time went by, the pectoral sandpiper remained elusive — unlikely to be around, given the number of eyes scanning the reserve. After having lunch at Middleton Hall, we decided to head to Earlswood Reservoir, where a Tundra bean goose (an adult of "unknown origin") had been showing well. About a minute from the car park, a Birdguides update came through, reporting that the bean goose had just been spotted in the fields above Upper Bittell Reservoir. We changed course and headed there instead. On arrival we split up with Karen and Dean making for the fields while Kev and I went to check that the bird hadn't relocated to the reservoir.

Tundra bean geese are winter visitors to the UK, arriving from late autumn to early winter, primarily seen in eastern England and Scotland - less common in the West Midlands!, migrating from their breeding grounds in Siberia. This bird has been around this region for a couple of years.

We reached the reservoir and after a few minutes Kev spotted our bird through his scope, preening on the far edge of the water (perhaps 500m away). We called Karen and Dean only to hear that they also had the bird in their scope from the hillside.

Kev had evening visitors on the way, so we sent our best wishes to Karen and Dean and headed home. A few days later, the pectoral sandpiper resurfaced at Belvide Reservoir, a members-only reserve managed by the West Midlands Bird Club, located northwest of Birmingham near Wolverhampton.