LONG EARED OWL-BURTON RSPB

I nipped over to Burton RSPB this morning to try and photograph the Long-eared Owl, which has been resident on site for some time. It was blowing a hooley on arrival, so I wasn’t expecting much—but, to my delight, I soon picked it up in the same area where last year’s bird had been seen.

Long-eared Owl

I never tire of watching these stunning owls, and hopefully, if left undisturbed, they will remain into the New Year. Otherwise, the site was very quiet, though a Cetti’s Warbler provided a welcome bonus.

GREEN WINGED TEAL-FRODSHAM MARSHES

I spent Saturday morning birding at Frodsham Marshes with Frank Duff. Frank had located a Green-winged Teal on No. 6 Tank last week, so I thought I’d give it a try, little realising the bird was commuting with over a thousand Common Teal.

It's in there somewhere!

After an hour of scoping through the mass of Teal and enjoying cracking views of an immature Marsh Harrier and a Peregrine patrolling West Point, Frank finally relocated the Green-winged Teal. It emerged from the Michaelmas daisy bed, displaying briefly to other female Teal

Green-Winged Teal

A tricky bird to see, it only remained in view for around ten minutes before retreating back into cover. Other highlights of the morning included Common Pochard, Gadwall, Common Shelduck, Wigeon, and Shoveler.

All in all, a fantastic morning’s birding and another welcome addition to the Cheshire year list.

GREAT NORTHERN DIVER-WEST KIRBY MARINE LAKE

With work dominating recent weeks, I was pleased to steal a few hours for birding at West Kirby. A juvenile Great Northern Diver had been frequenting the marina for the past week and, on arrival, it was showing exceptionally well, swimming close to the roadside and offering prolonged views.

Juvenile Great Northern Diver

Additional highlights included a single Goldeneye and three Red-breasted Mergansers, all adding interest to an already rewarding visit.

Red-breasted Merganser

A brief but thoroughly enjoyable afternoon’s birding and a timely reminder of the value of stepping away from the daily grind, even if only for a short while.

A CHESTNUT BUNTING ON THE EDGE OF BRITAIN

Last week, a photograph emerged of an unusual bunting found on the remote Orkney island of Papa Westray. The image was far from conclusive, the bird partially obscured in vegetation, but it immediately sparked intrigue. Early thoughts suggested something remarkable: a Chestnut Bunting. With no further sightings, the bird was quickly forgotten, written off as a fleeting mystery not worth the considerable effort of pursuit.

That possibility became reality on 25 October, when news broke that the Papa Westray bunting had been found. Phones rang, plans were made at speed, and a team assembled for my first-ever scheduled charter flight with Sean Cole, Phil Woollen, Chris Bromley, and Stuart Butchart. The next morning, we were heading north.

Sean and I, before we headed north

On arrival, we were met by Jonathan, the island ranger, who led us straight to the site. There, feeding unconcernedly in long vegetation, was the bird itself. For the next couple of hours, it teased observers, playing hide-and-seek as it fed voraciously, only occasionally offering partial views through the stems.

Patience was eventually rewarded when the bunting flew up onto a nearby dry-stone wall. Here it showed superbly, seemingly indifferent to human presence, pausing to feed before scuttling back into its preferred patch of pineapple mayweed and annual meadow grass.

The significance of this bird lies not only in its rarity but in how well it fits established patterns of natural occurrence. The Chestnut Bunting is a highly migratory species that breeds across northeast Asia, from eastern Siberia and the Russian Far East through parts of Mongolia and northeastern China. Each autumn, it undertakes a long southward migration, wintering in southern China and Southeast Asia, including Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia. Late autumn vagrancy to western Europe, while exceptional, is entirely consistent with this migration system.

Currently, Chestnut Bunting sits in Category E of the British List, with previous British records considered escapes from captivity. However, there are nine accepted records in the Western Palearctic, all occurring between late September and mid-November, exactly the window into which the Papa Westray bird falls.

Given its timing, location, behaviour, and association with a wider arrival of Siberian migrants, there is no reason to suspect this bird was anything other than wild. As such, the Papa Westray Chestnut Bunting may yet prove to be the first genuine record of this species for Britain, a landmark discovery made on one of the country’s most remote and evocative islands.

Heading home after another great Twitch

A Transatlantic Gem: Wilson’s Warbler on the Isle of Lewis Thirty years to the day since Britain’s last record

October 13th delivered a truly special treat when news broke that a Wilson’s Warbler had been found on the Isle of Lewis, remarkably, exactly 30 years to the day since the species was last recorded in Britain. With a swift team assembly, I set off with Dan Pointon, John Pegden, and Mike Frosdick, driving through the night to Ullapool before catching the ferry across to Stornoway.

We arrived the following morning and were rewarded almost immediately with superb views of this cracking little Nearctic migrant. Watching such a scarce visitor feeding actively in a Hebridean setting was surreal and unforgettable.

This remarkable individual represented the first record for Scotland, the second for Britain, following the long-standing record at Rame Head, Cornwall, on 13 October 1985, and the third for Britain & Ireland, after a bird recorded on Dursey Island, County Cork, in 2013, making its appearance on the same calendar date as the original British record all the more extraordinary.

The Wilson’s Warbler (Cardellina pusilla) is a small, brightly coloured New World warbler that breeds across North America, from Alaska and Canada south through the western United States. It winters primarily in Central America, favouring dense scrub and woodland undergrowth.

In a European context, Wilson’s Warbler is an exceptional vagrant, with only a handful of records across the Western Palearctic. In Britain and Ireland, it remains one of the rarest Nearctic warblers ever recorded, with just three accepted records, each separated by many years and each occurring in October, highlighting the species’ extreme scarcity and the extraordinary nature of this Lewis bird.

To connect with a bird of this calibre, especially under such remarkable circumstances, was a real privilege and one of those birding moments that will linger long in the memory.

Great twitch these three nutters!

A MOUNTAIN FINCH ON THE NORFOLK DUNES

News broke this morning of a truly astonishing bird: a Citril Finch feeding among the dunes and pinewoods of north Norfolk. For a species that is essentially sedentary and strongly tied to high mountain habitats, the news felt almost unreal.

The Citril Finch is a bird of altitude and isolation, breeding mainly in the Pyrenees and the high ranges of central Europe, from the Alps east to the Black Forest. Outside these upland strongholds, it is rarely encountered, and long-distance movements are exceptional. In a British context, the species is virtually mythical, with just one previous record: a male on Fair Isle in June 2008 that remained for around five days. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine there would be another, let alone so soon.

There was no hesitation. I was soon in the car heading east with my son Dylan, and four hours later, we were parked up at Lady Anne’s Drive. From there, we set off on the long trek towards the far edge of the pinewoods where they meet Burnham Overy Staithe — a solid half-hour yomp through sand and needles.

Then, almost absurdly, within two minutes of arriving, the bird appeared. There it was, feeding on the ground at the base of a pine, completely unconcerned and utterly out of place. The sense of disbelief was overwhelming. 

Seeing a Citril Finch on a Norfolk dune system is something that simply shouldn’t happen — and yet here it was.

Unbelievable. And instantly evocative too, bringing back a powerful grip of memories of that Fair Isle bird all those years ago — a once-in-a-generation encounter, now improbably repeated.

The Twitch

A SPRING PILGRIMAGE:GREAT BLUE HERON ON THE ISLES OF SCILLY

Spring birding in Britain often begins with anticipation rather than certainty, but occasionally a single phone call changes everything. On 14 April, that call came from Higgo, my good friend on the Isles of Scilly, with news that a Great Blue Heron had been found on St Mary’s. Discovered by Ash Fisher, it represented only the second record of the species for the UK.

For me, the moment carried a strong sense of unfinished business. Ash had also been responsible for the first British record, again on Scilly, when a juvenile Great Blue Heron was found at Lower Moors, St Mary’s, on 7 December 2007, during a period of strong westerly storms. That bird lingered only briefly and was seen by a fortunate few island residents. I had not been among them.

I travelled through the night to Penzance, catching the Scillonian the following morning. A full day spent walking St Mary’s proved tantalisingly close. I narrowly missed the bird in Holy Vale, and later that afternoon, three or four birders watched it fly off. Despite staying overnight and covering the island again the next day, there was no further sign.

Then came the blow. On my return to Penzance that evening, news broke that the heron had been refound on Bryher, a classic Scillonian twist, and a real kick in the teeth.

Round two began on Sunday night, leaving Cheshire with Phil Woollen to once again catch the first Scillonian on Monday morning. This crossing could not have been more different: flat calm, brilliant sunshine, mugs of tea, and familiar conversations with old friends.

On arrival at St Mary’s, we transferred straight onto an inter-island boat bound for Bryher. Higgo’s message that the heron was still present lifted spirits further, though a slight complication arose when the boatman announced that we’d need to be ferried ashore by dinghy and wade the final few yards.

It was worth every soggy step.

Higgo was waiting on the beach, and after a brisk walk, we reached the Hell Bay Hotel, where the Great Blue Heron was fishing calmly on the Great Pool. Towering, slate-blue, and unmistakably American, it fed methodically, completely at ease, an astonishing sight in a Scillonian landscape.

Eventually, hunger drew us away, and we headed up to the Vine Café for tea and sandwiches. With time to spare before the 15:30 pick-up, we explored the island further, enjoying the scenery and fitting in some casual birding.

We also sought out one of Bryher’s botanical specialities: the Dwarf Pansy, a minute and exceptionally rare plant with only two UK sites, both on the Isles of Scilly. The plants were present, tiny and easily overlooked, but deeply satisfying to see. 

The Hoopoe Higgo had been found the previous day; however, it remained elusive.

A rising tide spared us another wade, and back at the quay we were met by an old friend, Joe Pender’s boat, Sapphire, for the return to St Mary’s. Back aboard the Scillonian, pasty and tea in hand, it was finally time to relax.

The journey home passed quickly, and I was back in Cheshire in just under six hours, falling into bed after another 25-hour epic—exhausted, but content.

TWITCHERS: A VERY BRITISH OBSESSION

2010 BBC Four documentary about twitchers featuring Mya-Rose Birdgirl Craig, Twitchers: A Very British Obsession, Birdgirl cut. Filmed in Autumn 2009.