A first-winter killdeer was initially recorded in the UK on 5 November, when it was discovered on Skokholm/Skomer in Pembrokeshire, where it remained for a couple of days. The bird then relocated to South Slob, County Wexford, being present there from 27 November until 2 December. After a prolonged absence with no confirmed reports, the killdeer reappeared on 21 January at Ripley Farm Reservoir - after talking it over with Kev @kev07713, it was clear I couldn’t get there the following day, so he would head over with his wife Karen, while I hoped to make some time on Friday despite already having evening plans in Birmingham. They were successful in seeing the bird, as were our friends Bryan Manston and Adrian Sparrowhawk.
The killdeer is noticeably larger than a ringed plover and is instantly recognisable by its bold double breast band, and with a more upright stance. It has a distinctive rufous rump and upper tail, a feature that contrasts strongly with the darker central tail band and white tail sides. This warm, rusty-toned rump is particularly striking when the bird takes to the sky, or relocates short distances around the reservoir, and is a useful identification feature at range. Combined with the long, pointed wings and bold wing pattern, the rufous rump adds to the species’ unmistakable appearance in flight.
It is an exceptional vagrant to the UK and Ireland, with its normal range extending across much of North America, from southern Canada through the United States and into Central America. As a result, any appearance on this side of the Atlantic is considered a major event.
Records in the UK are extremely scarce, with most involving autumn or winter birds thought to have crossed the Atlantic on strong westerly systems. Many of these records relate to first-winter individuals, which are more prone to long-distance displacement. Sightings are often brief, although on rare occasions birds have lingered long enough to allow multiple observers to connect.
When present, killdeer typically favour open, muddy margins, reservoirs, coastal lagoons, and flooded fields, behaving much as they do in their native range by feeding actively and making short, rapid runs. Their striking plumage, particularly the double breast bands and bold facial pattern, makes them distinctive even among similar plovers. Sightings are generally short-lived, so visiting doesn’t guarantee seeing the bird - timing and luck are critical.
With reports of a scheduled shooting event on Saturday, visitors hoping to see the killdeer were eager to get views before any potential disturbance. I left home at 5.30am, aiming to arrive and walk the track to the reservoir by 8.00am. The forecast was mixed - I encountered rain on the journey, but it was dry on arrival, though I dressed expecting showers at some point.
As I set off from the car, I met a fellow birder, Lloyd, who had come down from Nottingham; this would be a lifer for him as well. We chatted along the track, which made the 15–20 minute walk pass quickly. Thankfully, we didn’t encounter any birders coming the other way, suggesting the killdeer was still present.
We arrived to find a couple of dozen birders already gathered, all focused on the killdeer. One kindly shared a rough location, and before long we had our scopes trained and were on the bird. At first, it was just over the edge of the grass, with only its head visible, but it was easy to pick out, positioned just to the left of a small group of lapwings. Gradually, the killdeer moved fully onto the grass, feeding and running around, giving excellent views for everyone although very distant. I posted that I’d seen the bird on our friends’ Birding WhatsApp group and soon heard that a couple of others were about 30 minutes away - with the 20-minute walk from the car, that meant they would likely be joining me in around an hour. In the meantime, the killdeer preened and settled slightly out of view, giving only glimpses to those watching.
My friends arrived, and we watched the killdeer for about 10 minutes before it suddenly took to the air, heading west and high, accompanied by three lapwings. For a moment, there was concern that it might have gone for good, but word soon spread that it had done this before and would likely return. With good views already in the bag, we began to pack up, only to be interrupted when a white-tailed eagle was spotted at a great distance, gliding along the tops of the trees. Our views were fleeting, and within seconds the eagle dropped from sight before I had a chance to photograph it.
As expected, the killdeer returned after about 10 minutes, and the sun broke through the clouds. This seemed like a perfect opportunity for better photos, but with the sun directly behind the bird, it was mostly silhouetted. I took a couple of shots but decided there was little advantage in staying longer. As we started to leave, we paused briefly when a little gull was spotted on the far left of the reservoir.
I was in Birmingham at a show, simultaneously messaging with Kev about the possibility of a birding trip on Saturday morning. As has become almost a routine lately, the forecast was for wet and changeable conditions throughout the day, so we considered options that would give us a satisfying day out while remaining flexible to the weather. Eventually, we settled on meeting at 6.45am and heading into the Cotswolds to check out a finch flock that might include bramblings, a species neither of us had seen yet this year.
We arrived just as light was breaking, the first soft glow illuminating the fields. A few finches were already visible, and we were delighted to spot our first corn bunting of the year, perched quietly in a tree nearby. After about 15 minutes, the finches began dropping to the track where some seed had been scattered, feeding briefly before quickly moving off again. The flock grew larger and returned intermittently, though they remained very skittish despite our efforts to stay still and unobtrusive.
The flock was a limited mix of species: mainly chaffinches, a few corn buntings, and quite a few striking bramblings with their warm, rufous tones. Occasional dunnocks flitted among them, while blue tits and great tits added movement and colour to the scene. Watching the birds in the morning light, with the quiet Cotswold landscape around us, it was a wonderfully rewarding start to the day and even before the rain threatened to arrive.
With views secured, we decided it was time to move on to WWT Slimbridge, where a few interesting reports had been made and several potential species awaited that could be added to our year list. An added advantage of the site was the network of hides scattered throughout, offering shelter should the weather take a turn for the worse.
We arrived early and entered via the Members’ gate, as it was still before opening time, then made our way towards the Zeiss and Kingfisher hides. A flock of birds caught our attention, and we paused to watch for them dropping in, but they initially wheeled away and disappeared from view. The calls suggested they were entirely, or at least largely, siskins.
It wasn’t long before the flock reappeared and eventually settled in an alder tree to feed. We carefully scanned through the siskins, hoping to pick out a lesser redpoll, but none could be found.
Off to our right, an unexpected sight drew our attention: a great white egret perched high in the branches of a nearby tree. While it’s fairly common to see little or cattle Egrets roosting high like this, it’s behaviour we’ve rarely encountered in great whites. On reflection, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
We left the area around the wildfowl collections and passed through the first gate into the trees, pausing to check whether a water rail might be feeding in a spot where we’d seen one on a recent visit - still missing from our year lists, and once again not obliging.
As we continued on, a treecreeper suddenly popped into view ahead of Kev. I stopped in the hope of grabbing a photo, while Kev carried on towards the Kingfisher Hide. A warden with a camera paused alongside me, clearly with the same idea in mind.
I caught up with Kev in the Kingfisher Hide, where he’d been scanning the surrounding fields and trees for anything unusual, though without success so far. I joined him but drew a blank as well. Looking back down the field we’d walked parallel to earlier, I eventually picked out a single white-fronted goose among the Canada geese. There were also two obvious farmyard geese present, which I’m confident are long-stayers, having previously served as useful markers when viewing two pink-footed geese earlier in the month.
Kev then moved over to the window overlooking the feeders in the tree, following a warden’s tip that a great spotted woodpecker had visited earlier. He quickly called me over after noticing movement in the stream below - a water rail. It slipped out of view before I reached the window, but around 30 seconds later it reappeared, walking across and then down the stream. It was a very welcome sighting, and one we’re always pleased to enjoy, given how secretive this species is and how rarely it shows itself, especially when calling.
With no further birds of note, we moved back down to the Van de Bovenkamp Hide and began scanning from there, working through the geese ahead of us and to our right, all at some distance. Kev suddenly stopped and said he had a juvenile peregrine in his view at 12 o'clock and within seconds I had it in my binoculars and camera. The bird was hunting through the geese, presumably looking for an opportunity, perhaps a lapwing breaking from cover.
Peregrines are often seen hunting over flooded fields and along the estuary margins, sometimes from high vantage points such as the Estuary Tower. Most encounters involve a bird powering low and fast over flocks of dunlin, lapwing, teal or wigeon, with any attack over in seconds, a sudden sweep that can cause mass panic even if there is no kill. Even without striking, their presence creates instant chaos: lapwings lift en masse, wader flocks tighten, and geese become visibly edgy.
On this occasion no attack followed, and the peregrine eventually flew onto the face of the ridge, disappearing over the far side and out of view.
Returning to the geese, Kev picked out a group of three and then a further five tundra bean geese feeding among the Canada, barnacle and greylags. There are still good numbers around and we’ve been fortunate to catch up with them at several sites this winter. Although distant, they showed well through the scope and confirmed that they weren’t accompanied by the two pink-footed geese we’d seen on our previous visit.
Tight against the hide window, I heard the calls of common cranes moments before they came into view - first two birds, then the group swelling to nine. Common Cranes are very often seen in groups/multiples of three because that’s the classic family unit: two adults (a bonded pair) and one juvenile (occasionally two, but often only one survives the first year). Juveniles stay with their parents for 10–12 months, migrating and wintering with them, so through autumn and winter you’ll frequently see tight groups of three feeding and moving together.
We moved on to the Zeiss Hide and took in the views across the grasses and reeds but added nothing further of note. Despite Heather England’s regular postings of bittern photos, our luck didn’t extend that far. In the pool to our left, however, we watched another great white egret slowly stalking the water’s edge.
We retired to the Visitor Centre for a breakfast roll before packing up and heading on to Burnham-on-Sea, hoping to catch up with the wintering German Kentish plover, a bird that has become a regular in recent years. We’d left it a little late and the water level wasn’t on our side, still falling towards low tide; we always feel that arriving an hour or two on a rising high tide gives the best chance.
We arrived in a light drizzle and chatted with another birder who had been earlier in the morning and hadn’t seen the plover but had returned for another look. He headed off to park, and we didn’t see him again. Scanning the beach, we picked up oystercatchers, dunlin, avocets, curlew, a single ringed plover and a grey plover, and as we worked along the esplanade it was largely these species that continued to turn up.
We also began scanning Stert Island, off Burnham-on-Sea, a low-lying tidal island at the mouth of the River Parrett in Bridgwater Bay; largely saltmarsh and mudflat and regularly cut off at high tide, but often holding good numbers of waders. At first I assumed the largest flock was dunlin, but Kev pointed out that while Dunlin formed the leading edge, the birds behind were knot, with a few grey plovers mixed in.
The rain grew heavier as we worked our way along much of the beach normally favoured by the Kentish plover. Realising we weren’t going to find it, we decided to call it a day. On the way back, we considered a stop at Oldbury Power Station, but with the rain still falling, we opted to give it a miss.
Year list: 138.
