RSPB Snettisham :: 01 August 2026

Having been unable to travel up to Yorkshire with Kev @kev07713 and Karen, and consequently missing both buff-breasted and white-rumped sandpipers, it was rather fortuitous that a white-rumped sandpiper appeared at RSPB Snettisham in time for our regular Saturday birding trip.

We set off at 4.30am, hoping to arrive ahead of the high tide and catch the bird as it was pushed closer towards the shore. After arriving, we began the reasonably long walk from the RSPB car park down to the shore. Within minutes, we heard the unmistakable call of a turtle dove.

We quickly located it, only for two birds to fly over before one settled in a tree some distance away. We stopped to enjoy the views, and as I moved on, Kev dropped back to the car to collect his glasses, just in case he needed to phonescope anything, as focusing was so much easier with them.

I reached the shore and started working through the dunlin and ringed plovers along the water’s edge, hoping to pick out the white-rumped sandpiper amongst them. As I made my way along, Kev caught me up and we continued together, pausing to watch the red knot swirling in the distance.

There were an impressive 56,000 red knot recorded here during the Wetland Bird Survey (WeBS) count at the beginning of the month, and the sheer number of birds was evident as they wheeled above the Wash. Their flight patterns and constantly changing formations were remarkably reminiscent of starling murmurations.

As the tide pushed further across the mudflats, flock after flock of red knot lifted from the water’s edge, thousands of birds twisting and turning in unison above the Wash. The flock moved almost like a single living organism, constantly changing shape as the birds responded to one another, alternately flashing dark and silver as they banked and caught the light.

The sheer scale of the spectacle was difficult to take in. Wave after wave of red knot rose from the shore, filling the sky before settling back down onto the pool behind, only to erupt into flight moments later. It was an incredible display, made all the more impressive by the vast numbers involved.

No sign of the white-rumped sandpiper though.

We continued working our way along the shore, picking out two peregrines, six kestrels, and a buzzard quartering the land beyond the mudflats. Along the remaining shoreline was an impressive array of curlews, godwits, shelduck, redshank, dunlin, red knot, Mediterranean gulls, and more, all feeding along the water’s edge.

Out in front of us, streams of little terns and a handful of common terns headed out across the Wash, setting off on fishing trips as the tide continued to push in. The latest verified local eBird log for RSPB Snettisham recorded a specific group of 117 little terns on the reserve - reports suggest this area of the coastline supports an average of 314 breeding pairs.

According to the latest (unverified WEBS) count there were 56,000 red knot, 3,943 dunlin, 4,500 oystercatcher, 2,050 black-tailed godwit, 1,435 bar-tailed godwit, 1,560 shelduck, 1,270 curlew, 1,270 grey plover, 1,124 redshank, 662 sanderling, 424 ringed plover, 226 turnstone, and 40 Mediterranean gulls amongst the other species.

There are so many waders here at the moment because yit is the start of the autumn migration period, when The Wash becomes an extremely important feeding and staging area for birds returning from their Arctic breeding grounds.

A few things are happening simultaneously:

• Red knot are arriving back from the Arctic. They make the enormous journey south from breeding areas in places such as Greenland, Canada and Russia. The Wash's extensive mudflats provide an exceptionally rich food supply for them to refuel.
• Dunlin numbers are building too. Late summer onwards is an important period for Dunlin on UK estuaries and mudflats, with birds arriving from further north to spend the winter here.
• The Wash is an exceptionally productive feeding area. The huge expanses of exposed mud provide worms, molluscs and other invertebrates, allowing enormous numbers of waders to feed together. The RSPB describes the area as having "world class mud" - essentially, the food supply is what drives the congregation of birds.
• The tide concentrates them. At low tide the birds can spread across vast areas of mudflat to feed. As the tide rises, that feeding habitat disappears, forcing them towards the shore and Snettisham's roosts. The birds spread across The Wash to feed, then become concentrated at Snettisham as the tide comes in.

Looking back along the shore, we could see a group of birders gathered at the point where the path from the car park joins the coastal path. In front of them was a sizeable gathering of waders, although at that distance we couldn’t make out exactly what they were.

At this point, we checked BirdGuides and saw that a report had just been posted for the white-rumped sandpiper further back along the track, with the sighting subsequently confirmed by another birder who had seen it. Had we somehow missed it, or had the bird already moved from there, perhaps onto the pools or with the distant waders?

We headed back towards the group, only to find that they were already moving off. What they had been watching was predominantly sanderling, with a few dunlin, redshank, ringed plovers, and a couple of turnstones mixed in. The white-rumped sandpiper was still nowhere to be seen - we'd arrived 15 minutes too late for the close views described by others.

After a short while, we walked back up the path to where a growing group of birders had gathered, all scanning the mudflats as the tide began to drop once more. We worked our way through the flocks, commenting that each time we made a sweep, the birds seemed to have relocated further along to the latest stretch of exposed sand.

Some of the birders began making their way back along the shore, and we followed, step by step. Every so often they would stop and scan again, only to move on once more, with us gradually catching them up.

Then, at one point, a couple of birders came hurrying back towards us. They had seen the white-rumped sandpiper, but it had flown and landed beside a channel, where it had quickly disappeared from view. We had missed it again! We scanned and scanned but could find no sign of it. Apparently, the white-rumped sandpiper had left with a group of dunlins, and a small flock was later seen flying off to the right, which probably included our elusive bird.

We moved further to the right and began scanning the area, working through the dunlin and redshanks as more birds gradually filtered through from that direction. While I continued searching from this spot, Kev carried on along the path following a couple of the remaining birders.

About ten minutes later, my phone rang. One of the birders had located the sandpiper, and I immediately set off at a brisk pace along the path and a few minutes later, I caught up with them and, at last, was within reach of our target bird.

It took barely a minute to pick it out among the birds on the mudflats, but then there it was - first in my scope, then in my bins, and finally in front of my camera lens.

The white-rumped sandpiper is a rare but regular vagrant to Britain. It breeds across Arctic Canada and winters mainly in Patagonia, but its transatlantic migration route brings small numbers to Britain and Ireland, particularly during late summer and autumn. To make things even more challenging, it is roughly dunlin-sized and can be surprisingly difficult to pick out amongst hundreds or even thousands of its smaller counterparts. The combination of long wings, a relatively long bill, prominent white supercilium, and streaking extending onto the flanks can be particularly useful when separating it from dunlin.

With the Wash attracting enormous numbers of passage waders at this time of year, perhaps it is not so surprising that the occasional Nearctic vagrant finds its way into these vast gatherings of otherwise familiar species. For a bird arriving from the other side of the Atlantic, the rich feeding grounds of the Wash must provide an ideal place to stop, refuel, and continue its journey.

Walking to the next group of birders we heard that there were two little stints and it wasn't long before we located one, feeding amongst the seaweed and dunlins. The little stint is Britain's smallest regularly occurring wader, at only about two-thirds the size of a dunlin. It is seen mainly on spring and, especially, autumn passage. British birds breed in northern Scandinavia and north-west Russia and winter around southern Europe and western Africa.

The important distinction is that little stint isn't normally expected in the huge tidal flocks of dunlin at Snettisham in quite the same way. You're more likely to find one feeding around the edges of pools or amongst smaller wader gatherings. This makes finding one a matter of carefully checking the less obvious birds rather than simply scanning the main knot/dunlin spectacle.

On the way to the shore from the car park I'd seen a wall butterfly - a species that Kev had not knowingly encountered previously and so on the way back to the car we stopped regularly and searched. We were eventually rewarded by a couple of views, one relatively close. We struggled to get open wing photographs and the only individual that compiled was a bit worse for wear.

The wall is a beautifully marked butterfly, its orange-and-brown wings patterned with dark lines and prominent eyespots. The most striking feature is the large black eyespot with a white centre near the tip of each forewing, complemented by a series of smaller eyespots along the hindwings. When settled with its wings closed, however, it becomes much more cryptic, the mottled grey-brown underside blending remarkably well with dry grass, bare earth and stones.

The wall is a butterfly of short, open, sunny grassland, particularly where there are patches of bare ground. Typical habitats include coastal cliffs and dunes, quarries, railway embankments, grassy tracks and field margins. The caterpillars feed on various grasses. It is particularly associated with warm, sheltered places, and adults often bask on walls, rocks, bare ground and other sunny surfaces. Males can be quite conspicuous when they patrol low over the ground looking for females.

The wall has experienced a very substantial long-term decline. UKBMS data show an 82.8% decline since monitoring began in 1976. Interestingly, the national index has been more stable over the last 20 years and has increased over the last decade, although this doesn't undo the much larger historical loss.

With a three-hour journey home ahead of us, it was time to make tracks, but not before stopping at the café just outside the reserve for a well-earned spot of lunch.

Year list: 272.

Wyre Forest, Bedfordshire, & Rutland Water :: 09 & 12 May 2026

On a recent visit to the Wyre Forest, Kev @kev07713 and I failed to find either wood warbler or dipper, so today we decided to return after seeing that Miles Cluff @miles_cluff had reported seeing one there - birds now returning? Miles posted on X that he had “seen some very bold wood warblers in my time, but this one takes the cake - no fear whatsoever.”

On arrival, we decided not to head straight for our usual car park. Instead, we dropped down the slope to the bridge over Dowles Brook to see if we could finally connect with a dipper. Frustratingly, we’d never previously missed this species here, but this year they seem to have become much harder to see - not just for us, but for all the birders we’ve spoken to.

We pulled the car into a lay-by off the lane and settled ourselves on the edge of the bridge after confirming there wasn’t currently a bird showing. As we sat chatting and listening to the surrounding birdsong, we considered moving on several times but decided to wait a little longer. After almost half an hour, a bird suddenly appeared, flying low down the brook before passing directly over us and continuing upstream to the deeper section beyond the bridge - a dipper. The view was brief, but very satisfying.

With the dipper finally seen, we returned to the car and headed for the main car park to continue our search for a wood warbler. We wandered out through parts of the forest we don’t usually explore before looping back past the car park and onto tracks running through the woods parallel to the main route, all the while listening out for the distinctive call of a wood warbler.

Above we could hear the call of common redstart and from time to time we would be able to pick them out, usually perched high in the tree canopy. Anecdotally, quite a few birders seem to be reporting good numbers in traditional woodland areas, especially in Wales, here in the Wyre Forest, and parts of the New Forest. The warm, settled periods in April appear to have helped migrants move through quickly and establish territories early. That said, common redstart remains an amber-listed species in the UK, and long-term breeding trends are still mixed depending on region.

As we made our way along the tracks, we saw several pairs of roe deer. With the forest lush there is a lot of available food, but the deer are also more active and visible because does are heavily pregnant and bucks are establishing and defending territories. Roe bucks become increasingly territorial from spring onwards. They typically give birth from mid-May through June in the UK, with most fawns born in late May and early June - the timing is quite precise because roe deer have a delayed implantation process: mating takes place in summer (usually July–August), but the fertilised egg does not begin developing until winter. This allows births to coincide with peak spring vegetation and food availability.

We came across pairs of blackcaps, goldcrest, and then saw garden warblers chasing through the dense bushes off to our right but a distance. Garden warblers usually arrive from Africa in late April and are in full song through May and early June while establishing breeding territories. Unlike blackcaps, garden warblers tend to stay hidden in thicker vegetation, often in bramble patches, young woodland, willow scrub, or dense scrub near woodland edges. You often hear them long before you see them but by June, they often become much quieter and harder to locate.

Garden warblers are famously understated visually. Compared with something like a common redstart or wood warbler, they can look rather plain at first glance: mostly warm brown above and pale buff-grey below, with very few obvious markings. But many birders are fond of them because the song is so rich and beautiful compared with the bird’s rather modest appearance - much like nightingales, I think.

Still unable to locate our target bird we dropped down to one of the main tracks and made our way past the premises of "Peter the Bee and Friends". This is a dedicated nursery working to protect local pollinators by growing native, peat-free, insecticide-free wildflowers. The initiative helps reverse the decline of bees, moths, and beetles in the Wyre Forest area by encouraging wildlife gardening and supporting pollinator habitats. Their vision is that everyone should have a few wildflowers in their gardens even if it's just a balcony or a window box and believe that even small actions by many people will make a positive difference - how right they are.

As we passed the brick building, the call of a pied flycatcher caught our attention as it flitted around the lower branches of several large trees. At first, it stubbornly refused to perch in the open, remaining partially obscured by the branches, but eventually it landed in a much better position and we both managed to snap off a few photos before it disappeared into the trees beyond. We were also impressed by the number of bird and owl boxes mounted on the surrounding trees throughout this area.

We eventually rejoined the main path and headed back towards the gully where we had seen the tawny owl on our previous visit, still without any sign or sound of a wood warbler. As we reached the slope, we could hear and then see a common redstart perched in a tree just above the bench, while a few tree pipits were calling further beyond.

We decided to drop down towards the brook and listen along the bank there, but before we had gone very far the call of a lesser spotted woodpecker stopped us in our tracks. The call gave us a rough idea of where the bird was, but without seeing it we struggled once it fell silent again. We stood listening for several minutes, mainly to the tree pipits, while also watching two jays working their way along the slope down towards the brook - probably Kev’s favourite moment of the day.

Then came the call again. I looked up and managed to pick out the lesser spotted woodpecker on the branches of a dead tree, working its way around a branch and gradually moving into a better position for viewing. I pointed it out to Kev, but by the time he got onto the bird it dropped down behind a tree in front of us, completely obscuring the view and giving him just a fleeting sighting. We tried to relocate it, but despite our efforts we couldn’t find it again, although we heard it call.

This was the first time either of us had seen a lesser spotted woodpecker in the Wyre Forest, probably because we usually only visit once, or at most twice, during the period when the pied flycatchers, tree pipits, common redstarts, and wood warblers are present.

Along the river we didn't see anything new in the way of birds but did see several butterfly species including pearl-bordered fritillary, holly blue, and orange tips. Orange-tip butterflies seem to be restless and often seem unwilling to settle for more than a second or two, especially the males. In spring they appear to spend a huge amount of time patrolling along hedgerows, woodland edges, rides and damp meadows searching for females, which makes them appear constantly on the move. I think this was my first opportunity to take a photo of one this year.

Despite further searching, we were still unable to locate a wood warbler. We bumped into Mike @dogdoughty, who we regularly seem to encounter out birding, and he confirmed that he too had failed to find one. It certainly seems to be a poor year for them here. We slowly made our way back to the car and set off for home.

Kev was helping his brother with some work again on Monday, but Tuesday promised a much better forecast, although reports suggested that many of the birds we might have gone to see had already moved on. Instead, we decided to head across into Bedfordshire to look for turtle doves at a site we’ve visited over the last couple of years, following the disappearance of this species from RSPB Otmoor. We set off at a leisurely hour, though still before most people would have been sitting down to breakfast. It wasn’t too far to travel, and we would be on site before most people had even started work for the day.

We arrived, parked the car, and walked towards the spot where we’d enjoyed our best views on previous visits, listening as we approached for the distinctive call of a turtle dove - one of the most evocative sounds of late spring and summer, a soft, gentle purring.

We began scanning the hedgerows and surrounding trees and, as I followed a dove in the distance that was probably a collared dove, Kev suddenly spotted a bird dropping into the hedge nearby. Walking round carefully for a better angle, he quickly confirmed that it was indeed a turtle dove, and moments later it began calling briefly from the top of the hedge.

We positioned ourselves for a few photographs before stepping back to give the bird some space so we could simply stand and watch it. By now the area was becoming busier, with people returning after the school run, dog walkers appearing along the paths, and a few runners passing through. Eventually the turtle dove seemed to decide the activity had become a little too close for comfort and flew off strongly, disappearing into the distance and, we suspected, travelling quite some way from where we stood.

The turtle dove is now one of the UK’s most rapidly declining and threatened breeding birds. Once a familiar summer visitor, it has suffered a catastrophic decline over recent decades, including at our local site in Oxfordshire. Since the 1970s, the UK breeding population has fallen by more than 95%, and the species is now largely confined to parts of southern and eastern England, meaning that you increasingly must travel to specific sites if you want to connect with them.

We waited in the hope that the bird might return, or that we might encounter another, as we had heard that two had been seen at the site within the last week. We followed a narrow brook running between two hedgerows, hoping to pick up the birds along this stretch, but saw little other than woodpigeons until a little egret dropped into the hedge ahead.

We edged closer, but it appeared quite content to remain where it was, basking in the sun. Eventually it moved on, flying further down the brook before dropping into the water and reeds below.

We walked around to the far side of the hedge and onto a path running parallel with the brook, where we heard a cuckoo calling off to our left. Kev headed off to the right and disappeared into the distance, but before he returned, I’d managed a couple of views of the cuckoo - first as it shifted position in flight, and then perched on a spindly branch, its call giving it away.

Although slightly distant and seen against the sky, it was probably my longest view of the year, and perhaps only surpassed by the excellent flyover sighting at Pig Bush in Hampshire.

We returned to our original position and waited a while longer, kept entertained by a showy whitethroat, a cuckoo, and a calling Cetti’s warbler. In the end, we decided we might be in for a long wait; we’d heard that some birders had spent up to three hours there without a sighting and left empty-handed recently. With that in mind, and hoping to make other plans for the day, we decided to move on.

We checked BirdGuides and found nothing of note locally, so decided to head over to Rutland Water in the hope of seeing some ospreys. We often visit Eyebrook Reservoir to watch them fishing, but it is still early in the season, and the males are not yet under pressure to provide food for chicks, so visits tend to be more irregular at this time of year.

We drove to the Lyndon Visitor Centre, where we were given an update on the ospreys, along with news that a white stork had been moving between Manton Bay and the North Arm. It had apparently been on site for 12 days, though we hadn’t seen any previous mention of it. We then set out along the trail between the centre and Waderscrape hide. The first hide, Deep Water, produced little activity on the water, but at Tufted Duck Hide we found around eight people already in position.

We were told the white stork was on the opposite bank, though mostly obscured by reeds and long grass. We managed brief views of it and waited in case it showed more clearly. The bird had been seen well at times and was noted to carry a blue darvic ring; it is believed to have come from from one of the reintroduction projects in the UK. Eventually the bird walked out from the reeds, but at over 500m there was only ever going to be a record shot.

Just as the stork was walking along the shoreline, a female mandarin duck appeared in front of the hide with what we think was close to ten chicks hurrying around her. It caught us slightly off guard and we largely missed the chance to photograph the young birds, though we did get more prolonged views of the adult.

Mandarin duck is now a well-established breeding species in the UK, having originally been introduced from East Asia. Rutland Water is in fact one of the more reliable places in the country to encounter breeding birds, even if the species still looks rather exotic in appearance.

The downy chicks of mandarin duck look quite similar to those of mallard at a glance: small, mottled brown, and well adapted for camouflage along water margins. That general “cryptic brown fluff” pattern is common across many dabbling duck species. I’ve read that mandarin ducklings can sometimes show a slightly cleaner, more contrasting facial pattern than the more uniformly streaked mallard chicks and may appear a little darker and more sharply patterned overall, though this is quite variable. Without the female shepherding them around, they could very easily be overlooked.

We then made our way to Waderscrape Hide, which was much busier and offered wider windows looking across the bay. The resident female, known as Maya, has nested at Manton Bay since 2009 and is the most successful breeding female on the Rutland Water Nature Reserve. The resident male, known as 33 (after his leg ring identity), hatched at a nearby Rutland nest in 2011 and became Maya’s permanent partner in 2015.

As we entered the hide, two volunteers came over and pointed out the nest and the male’s perch. We set up our scopes and enjoyed good views of both birds. The male remained perched throughout our visit but rather distant and could well be a bird we might also encounter at Eyebrook Reservoir. While it’s always good to see them at all, it is far more rewarding to watch them in flight and fishing, so hopefully we might connect with one more closely later in the year.

I had an appointment at teatime, so we eventually packed up and headed home to give me time for a shower and dinner before heading out again. Hopefully it won’t be too long before we’re out again.

Year list: 250.

Bedfordshire :: 10 May 2025

At this time each year, Kev @kev07713 and I make our annual pilgrimage to see turtle doves. Since they're no longer present at our local RSPB Otmoor, we've had to venture further afield, most often into Bedfordshire. Thankfully, the birds have been reliable there in recent years, and we were hopeful they'd returned. We’d even seen a recent photo we believed was taken at our usual spot, so we decided that today was the day to visit.

We arrived, and even before reaching our usual vantage point, we could hear a turtle dove calling. Promising. A birder with a camera was already in place, and we soon spotted the bird high in the tree canopy, calling steadily. He told us this was his fourth consecutive day here, and that the bird had spent about 90% of its time perched in that very spot.

I think our visit last year was a couple of weeks later, and we had the pleasure of seeing two birds then - perhaps more are still on their way this year. In 2023, we observed nest-building around the 10th of May; last year it was closer to the 22nd.

We waited, hoping the bird would shift position for a clearer view, but it stayed put. We tried approaching from the opposite side of the treeline and hedgerow, but the foliage was too dense to see through. Directly beneath the bird ran a footpath that saw a steady stream of runners, walkers, and dog owners, none of whom seemed to bother it in the slightest.

Occasionally, the bird would fly off, presumably to feed elsewhere, but after about 20 minutes, it would return to its favoured perch and resume singing. Its song is a mellow, rolling purr, repeated softly and steadily, like a contented cat or a gently bubbling kettle - unmistakable. I took a few photos from a distance before trying to capture some shots through the tree canopy from the footpath.

From the footpath I managed to locate a cuckoo that had been calling over on the edge of the nature reserve, perched high in a tree. I think several were working the area and there was frequent calling all along this stretch.

Our friends Nick @old_caley and Anne Truby arrived and joined us in watching the bird perched in its usual spot. We chatted for a while, especially during one of the bird’s absences. Eventually, it returned, but by then we were already thinking about our next move. A red-footed falcon had been reported not far from here, and we decided to head over to see if we could get better views than we had last week - we'd hear from Nick later that a second bird had eventually appeared and joined the first, though still showing at the same distance.

We eventually found somewhere to park and followed the path to the spot where the sighting had been marked on Birdguides. Before long, we were overlooking a body of water fringed with reeds. A couple of hobbies were hunting over the area, and we tracked them through the scope, hoping the red-footed falcon might appear nearby. A birder who had been watching from the opposite bank told us he'd seen the falcon earlier, right out in front of us, but it had since vanished, chased off by one of the hobbies.

We waited and were treated to sightings of up to four bitterns relocating across the reeds, but the rising heat created a significant haze, making even record shots nearly impossible. All around us, Cetti’s, reed, and sedge warblers called.

Eventually, we spotted the red-footed falcon, high up and distant. We watched as it dropped out of view, only to pick it up again as it flew far to our left and disappeared behind us. Apparently, it had been relocating to that area the day before, so we decided to head there too, though a wrong turn meant we had to take a bit of a detour.

After a short walk, we finally reached the spot. It wasn’t long before a few hobbies began cutting through the sky, swift and agile. Then, we picked her out: the female red-footed falcon, distinguishable by her warm rufous underparts and pale head. Once again, she was distant, often little more than a silhouette against the sky but we tracked her movements through the scope as she quartered the treeline. The hobbies, meanwhile, treated us to several close flybys, offering excellent views as they stooped and twisted in pursuit of insects.

Having had no real record photos last weekend I had a go at capturing something, however poor - can you see what it is yet. Well I think you can!

As of late May 2025, the UK has experienced a significant influx of red-footed falcons, with at least 50 individuals reported across Britain and Ireland. This marks one of the most substantial spring arrivals of this species in recent years. Notably, Carlton Marshes in Suffolk recorded up to seven individuals present simultaneously.

This influx is considered one of the largest on record, though it still falls short of the remarkable 1992 event, which saw an estimated 250 individuals across Britain. The current surge is likely influenced by persistent easterly winds during the spring migration period, facilitating the movement of these falcons from their breeding grounds in Eastern Europe to the UK.

Our attention was caught by a turtle dove calling softly behind us, but despite a quick search, we never managed to spot it before the bird fell silent.

Among the flurry of aerial activity, we spotted a few insects on the wing. I was especially pleased to get my first proper chance this year to photograph a bee-fly, its furry body and long proboscis hovering with precision as it fed on early wildflowers. Not long after, a four-spotted chaser dragonfly appeared, patrolling the edge of the sllope down to the water. It paused briefly on a stem, giving me a chance to admire its broad, dark wing spots and amber-tinted body, a classic early-season species that always signals summer isn’t far off.

Knowing that clearer views of the falcon weren’t going to happen anytime soon, we reluctantly began packing up our gear. The afternoon warmth had settled in, and the bird remained distant and elusive. We called it a day, retracing our steps along the path back to where we’d left the car. The quiet countryside was bathed in soft golden light as we walked, reflecting on the highlights of the day. Before heading home, we stopped for an ice cream, a perfect reward after hours spent in the field.

Year list: 199.