SECONDS TO LATE YEARS IN THE MAKING

Having missed the Essex bird at Felixstowe by mere seconds back in November 2016, this particular tick had taken on a near-mythical quality. Surely, I told myself, the wait for this tart addition to the list had to end sometime.

That moment arrived tentatively on 23 April, when a first-winter Forster’s Tern dropped briefly into Lytchett Bay, Dorset. By evening, it had been relocated to the tern roost at Brownsea Island, spotted via the Avocet Hide webcam no less: modern birding at its finest. Almost certainly the same bird that had lingered at Sutton Bingham Reservoir, Somerset, weeks earlier, where it spent an afternoon before powering high and south, it began showing a predictable pattern, frequenting Lytchett Bay most mornings. An early raid was inevitable.

Forster’s Tern is, of course, a North American species, breeding widely across the continent’s interior wetlands and coastal marshes, from the Great Lakes to the Gulf Coast. In winter, it moves south to the Caribbean, Central America, and northern South America. In Britain, it remains a genuine rarity, with only a handful of records each year, most involving spring overshoots or long-staying individuals that quickly become the focus of intense attention. This bird’s prolonged stay in southern England was already notable and tantalising.

The morning, however, unravelled slowly. On arrival, there was no sign, and hours slipped by scanning Poole Harbour, optimism fading with every circuit. With reports stubbornly absent, I made a late call: an afternoon boat trip to Brownsea Island. For a Saturday, the lack of fellow birders was astonishing; apparently, I was the only one who really needed this bird.

It was my first visit to Brownsea Island, and the crossing itself felt like a small reward: calm, unhurried, and shared with just one other birder. 

Arriving on Browsea Island

Once ashore, there was no hesitation. I made straight for the tern hide, quietly hopeful that the bird might yet materialise during my three-hour window.

Twenty minutes later, it did.

Out of nowhere, the Forster’s Tern flew in and settled among the Sandwich Terns, preening casually as if it hadn’t been the cause of years of frustration. I watched in disbelief as it sat there, immaculate and unbothered, showing superbly for a full ten minutes before lifting off and drifting back out over Poole Harbour. At last, I had seen it.

Forster's tern, finally on the list!

A classic twitch, beautifully resolved, and in a setting that made the wait feel worthwhile. Brownsea Island delivered in every sense, and the Forster’s Tern was finally, definitively, on the list.