Tom terns 30

Last weekend was Tom’s 30^th Birthday Party (the much anticipated Birthday was the week before), I think my liver has almost recovered. More importantly, a few weeks before Tom, Jack and I had bundled into the car in hope of Tom’s all important 300^th bird.

With it being such an important tick, we had our eyes set on one of the UK’s scarcest breeding birds, the thought being that we could be certain of a good view near their nest site. For Jack and I this meant a four-hundred-and-sixty-mile round trip, for Tom it was a mere 400 hundred miles. We decided to head to his and let him do the bulk of the driving; three and a bit hours and a lot of junk food later, we were safely on the Northumberland coastline, enjoying one last coffee in The Fat Mermaid (cakes highly recommended) before meeting our boat.

The harbour was full of redshank, black headed gulls, eclipse eider, and the occasional sandwich tern (each one causing us to flinch). We had a worrying few minutes wondering whether we would be allowed onto the over booked boat, but fortunately places were found for all. Jack took the 450D and the 250 lens, I took the 7D and the Sigma 500, and the frantic snapping began. The air was full of guillemots, razorbills and puffins, gannets dove further offshore, and there was a constant coming and going of terns.

Tom and I flicked between cameras and bins, looking for dark bills, bright clean wings, long tail feathers; the hallmarks of the roseate tern. We approached Coquet Island over fifteen minutes, somewhat impatient as the boat stopped to take in seals hauled out in the shallows. We had both had likely looking birds at a distance, but nothing definite to our untrained eyes.  

Slowly, we edged around the island, nipping in close to peer through binoculars at the pairs perched around their nest boxes. Then, joy; not 5 meters from the boat an adult fluttered down to the sea surface and began to bathe, allowing us some awkward but beautifully clear pictures. Delighted doesn’t begin to cover our mood as we snapped away, then put aside the cameras for a really focused look. We were so chuffed that dipping on black tern on the way home (and missing little bittern in the process) didn’t bother us at all.

Bathing Roseate

Jack had even greater success with the 450D than I did with the 7, the shorter lens coping much better with the changing light. He managed to get all of the following shots, catching many of the best diagnostic images ...and he's never borrowing my camera again...

Jack's improved image of the beak

Jack's shot showing the individual crown feathers...

...and Jack's image of the dark primaries...

Of course, Tom being Tom, a few days later he snuck out after work for the East Leake bee-eaters, entering his third decade on 301. So now we both have 400 before 40 firmly in our sights, with Tom holding a 47 species and two year advantage. I’d better get my skates on. 

Blonde Birders go south on a Sunday

Tom had been having all the fun, and was just five birds away from his target of seeing 300 birds before age 30 (6 weeks to go); meanwhile, I have been languishing at my desk or in the lab, and had only managed one new species since January. In fact, I’ve barely been birding at all. So after watching all of Tom’s lovey reports from his trip to the Scotland (and having had some stress-related health hiccoughs) I decided that a spot of birding was in order. Of course, I am dead-keen that Tom hit his birthday birding target, so I suggested that we spent last Sunday with the birds. I’d head over to his place on Saturday night, and we’d head out from there in the morning to where ever seemed to hold the best birds.

Having a scan through the reports on Saturday evening, we decided on the Minsmere Savi’s warbler (which would be a lifer for both of us), followed by a thorough sweep of the Suffolk/Norfolk border to scoop up whatever else we could get. A good two and a bit hours each way… and back past my house too… ah well, you can’t plan for everything. So now all we had to do was wait til morning. Tom employed his time by driving to Belper and taking part in an epic stand-up gig. I stayed, crashed, at the flat, enjoying a fantastic migraine which felt like icepicks were being pressed into my left eye and nostril. The only benefit to this was going to bed at seven, sure of a good night’s sleep before our 4 am wake-up call.

When four A.M. rolled around, my migraine had subsided to a mere headache. I’d taken my meds and grabbed last night’s pizza and was ready to drive. The drive is one of the best bits of birding with a stand-up comedian, old jokes mix with new as we try and keep the car in its lane through laughing fits. At the services I we amuse the woman at the checkout as I loudly abandon Tom whilst he pays for his sandwiches, announcing that I’ll be in the car cramming my newly purchased nurofen into my face. Then we’re off again, finally rolling into the Minsmere carpark at seven.

Leaving the car we head for Island Mere hide, where the Savi’s had been heard the previous day, checking with the locals we pass en route for the best spots for stone curlew (one of my targets for the day). The reed beds are swarming with reed and cetti’s warblers as we wander down the boardwalk to the hide, and then it begins; the tedium of a warbler twitch. It’s not singing, it's in dense cover, and all we can do is wait.

Having said that, there are many, many worse places to wait than the Island Mere hide at Minsmere. Marsh Harriers quartered the reed beds and a bittern boomed away. An otter was beset by angry mute swans. A lone common tern aggressively chased away the Med and Black headed gulls which occasionally alighted on the water. Off course, my camera battery had been neglected in the head crushing pain that was the previous evening, so I was sparing with my pictures.

Lucky Bittern

Marsh Harrier

We were in the hide for an hour and a half, chatting to the locals, and I was starting to get twitchy… I could feel the day ticking away, and knew that Tom had to be back by 6:30… Other birders had come and gone, and I was considering suggesting that we move too; then the reeling began. Thank god. We listened to the bird calling for five minutes and were rewarded with a brief glimpse of it flitting from cover. 249 for me, 296 for Tom. A brief high five and we were off in search of stone curlew.

As we wandered seaward toward North Wall and the resident breeding pair we were treated to fantastic views of a stoat moving its kits, more mewing Med gulls, and a quick pit stop at the cafe. We were also given some local intel on the woodlark at Westleton Heath.

Two of many Med gulls

Arriving at the fenced “St-urlew” nest site we scanned with scope and bins to try to find the elusive birds, our hopes soaring when a couple announced that they had found them. Unfortunately it turned out that they were stringing a couple of red legged partridge, and we gave up and bundled in the car to head to Westleton.

When we got there it was roasting… however, I managed to bag my first tick not five minutes from the car. Turtle doves “turring” in the trees by the path. We were lucky in seeing one bird flying out over the scrubby gorse, landing in a sycamore, where it was instantly invisible. I got a couple of terrible shots and my 250th bird.

Swift Turtle Dove Snap

From here we forged out onto the heath, following the wooded field margin for best chance of woodlark. After an hour’s walking we were hot, bothered and beginning to lose heart. We’d covered almost all the available ground and began to double back for the car. Coming back through a kissing gate I caught a glimpse of something perched on a bare branched of a fallen tree. The offending article. Tom managed a quick, if blurry, shot and I watched through bins for a minute until the bird flitted. We waited, but the bird failed to reappear, lost in the gorse. We wandered back to the car as happy as you like, three for three on our targets. 251 for me, 297 for Tom, a great day all round.

Tom's Blurry Woodlark Shot

Feeling pretty confident, we decided to try and get me those elusive stone curlew, deciding to detour to Weeting Heath on the way home. Cheerfully we gossiped in the car for an hour, planning trips in the next six weeks to ensure Tom hit his 300, and we soon pulled up in the carpark. The centre was locked and we headed toward the North Hide, stopping to talk to a couple who were scanning the fields the far side of the road… who had their eye on a pair of stone curlew and their chick. One of the quickest ticks I have had. 252. One adult and the juvenile were out in the open, the other was half in cover. The angle of the far field gave us excellent views (although the pictures are still awful) and we watched the birds for around half an hour.

Distance "St-urlew"

Heading back to the car we checked the time. With our amazing luck so far we had a few hours in hand, and we checked the reports in hope of a last minute miracle. There was an obvious choice… despite living up in Scotland and making regular trips up and down the west coast, I had failed to connect with corncrake. Fortunately, one had appeared in Warwickshire, just 15 minutes from Tom’s house. Depending on the traffic, it could have been on.

It was a focused drive back, with one eye permanently on the clock. We pulled up to Alvecote Pools just as Tom’s phone battery gave out, we had forty mins to connect with the bird. Fortunately there were a few birders on site. They reported hearing the bird not five minutes before, and we settled in to wait. Turned out that luck was on our side again, and within a few minutes there was a clear “crexing” from the iris bank in the field bottom. Five for five, and thirty minutes to get Tom to work. We bundled into the car and, thirty minutes later, I was happily wending my way back along the M6 toward home. I may not have many chances to go birding any more, but I can be happy in the knowledge that occasionally my luck holds out. Not only that, but in the next six weeks before Tom’s birthday I have at least one more tick on the cards, so watch this space.

Guest post by the other BlondeBirder: Thomas Christian

Nat's note: I have to guiltily admit that Tom sent me this over a month ago and I've not gotten around to posting it. I can only apologise to both he and you... Enjoy!


Although I love Christmastime, through all the turkey, chocolate and comatose family members I couldn't help eyeing the RBA and Birdguides updates thinking “I only have a few days left off work...” so at the first opportunity I set out, at 5am on the 28th December. My initial targets were the Dusky Warbler and Glossy Ibis that had been at Ham Wall RSPB in Somerset all week. In the back of my mind I knew there had been a Cattle Egret at Steart Marshes WWT nearby too. All three species would be lifers for me.

Now I've always considered myself a birder first and not just another twitcher, but with a full time job and me and Nat's shared target of 400 species by age 40 I have to admit I now plan my birding days around specific species and I'm happy to travel a few hundred miles in one day to get them. These trips have had mixed results, including a 400 mile round trip to see exactly zero Long-billed Dowichers, but I usually come home with at least one new species.

So on this surprisingly mild late-December morning I set off, with a belly full of toast, a tank full of diesel and a head full of potentially misplaced optimism. I arrived into the car park at Ham Wall RSPB at around 7:30am, just after sunrise. I was a little surprised to see around five cars already parked up. I checked my phone and the most recent update online was that the Dusky Warbler was still present at 7:20am! I grabbed my kit out of the boot and headed into the reserve.

I passed a fellow birder who was walking out of the reserve and asked if there was anything about (ALWAYS ask every birder you pass – there's nothing like knowledge on the ground when it comes to locating birds), he confirmed that the Dusky was “showing well” and pointed me in the right direction. My heart skipping I headed deeper into the reserve and found a flock of around 10-15 birders all looking into a bank of trees and scrub on the other side of a narrow canal. Apparently the bird had been showing well but had flown into the scrub and hadn't even called for the past ten minutes. My heart sank...was this another Long-billed Dowicher?

I remembered that a Glossy Ibis had been around too and asked about that. I was told it was only 50 metres or so further along the canal, in a small lagoon feeding on one of the reed-covered islands. As I felt the Dusky was going to be skulking unseen for some time I headed towards the lagoon and joined a birding couple who were already looking over the pool. I asked if they'd seen anything and they said they were “just watching the Glossy Ibis.” Bingo! I set up my scope and there it was, lazily mooching through the mud at the edge of the reeds next to some Lapwings. I took a few freehand photos on my phone through my scope (I don't possess the photographic skill of Natalie I'm afraid) and then headed back to the clump of Dusky-hunters.

Tom's Glossy

Whilst waiting and casually scanning the relevant scrub I was approached by a familiar face – it was a birder from Stafford who Nat and I had met at the Rough-legged Buzzards in Choseley on our Norfork trip! No matter how far you travel when birding it really is a small world. Mid-way through mutually moaning about the dipped Red-rumped Swallow someone piped up “It's calling!” Everyone froze and listened to the Dusky Warbler, its call sounds like a Wren but much quieter and much more intermittent. The now 20-or-so of us followed the sound through the scrub before it suddenly jumped onto an exposed bit of fern before almost immediately flitting onto a tree trunk covered in ivy. I managed to get it in my bins as it climbed up the ivy, I could see a typical Phylloscopus warbler but very brown, I couldn't make out the pale supercillium at this angle though. It reached the top of the ivy and flew left onto a bare branch, its head was obscured so I still couldn't get the supercillium, but I could see its uniform warm brown upperparts and it's pale grey underparts very nicely. The ID was greatly helped by the fact it was happily calling away the whole time it was visible. It then shot left behind another tree and vanished.

Amazing! Two lifers and I'd only been here about 45 minutes. I waited another 30 minutes to see if the Dusky would reappear during which time birders who had been saying “was that it? I only saw it for 5 seconds” were now saying “What a great bird, I'm so glad it showed so well!” From what I'd gathered from the local birders, 5-10 second bursts between 2-3 hour waits had been typical for this bird. I figured as it was only about 9.30am now I should definitely try for the Cattle Egret at Steart Marshes WWT. I jumped in the car and got over to the bank of the Severn Estuary in about 40 minutes.

My previous experience of Steart Marshes was that it was a brand new reserve still being developed but covered by a network of boardwalks and landscaped paths. Based on this I kept my trainers on and walked towards the one part of the reserve I hadn't yet been to. The one part of the reserve that had not yet been covered in a boardwalk or landscaped path... One sodden gangrenous kilometre later I found four Welsh birders also looking for the Cattle Egret. We teamed up and headed deeper (in more ways than one) into the marsh. We spotted a group of Egrets in a field at the far end of the marsh. We set up scopes and within a few seconds one of the Welsh contingent picked out the Cattle Egret, we all got it in our scopes and I took a few more wobbly shots through mine. This was the best day's solo birding I'd had, potentially ever! I checked the time and it was just after twelve. Three lifers in one morning!

Tom's C.Egret... At least my envy is slightly assuaged by this rubbish record shot

The birding gods were clearly shining on me so...it's almost like I was being told to keep going, right? I checked the reports on my wade back to the car to see what was within an hour's drive and saw there was Ferruginous Duck down in Hampshire, lots of Great White Egrets and an American Wigeon down in Exmouth. I've seen a Fudge Duck and Great White Egrets before but American Wigeon would be new, plus I'd seen that it had been seen there for around a month. That's it, after the walk back to the car I should get down there by 2pm, enough time to find it before the light fades. So by 1pm I was back on the M5 for its final 50 miles to Exeter.

The American Wigeon had been at Exminster Marshes RSPB for the past three weeks but apparently it had moved to Bowling Green Marsh RSPB that morning. I'd not been to either reserve before so I didn't know what to expect or how difficult it would be to locate a single bird. My sat-nav took me to a very narrow road round the back of a residential street. There was a surprising number of walkers on the road, and I got the impression cars weren't really meant to be going down there so I found a soft verge out of the way and parked up.

The RSPB reserve consists of one hide overlooking a wide, waterlogged field. On the walk back to the hide from the car I found a flock of Brent Geese and had a look through just in case there were any interesting subspecies, none there but I've always liked Brent Geese. There were a couple more gaps in the hedge on the walk to the hide through which I could see groups of Wigeon. I picked through them but couldn't find any star-spangled or gun-toting ones so moved on. I reached the hide which had a full glass front and a small education room (closed as there were no volunteers at this time of year) and set up my scope. There were two families in there and two more experienced looking birders. I asked the nearest birder if he'd seen the American Wigeon and he said “I've been looking for it all afternoon and I just found it as you walked in, do you wanna look?” What is happening today?! Four fairly easy lifers and not a single dip; I wish I could bottle this! After half an hour of enjoying the Wigeon and taking a few more freehand shots on my phone I packed up and headed back to the M5. Days like this make it all worthwhile, and takes me to 242 species, so just 35 more days like this and I've got the magic 400.

Another one Tom has that Nat doesn't...