On returning from Shetland on 11th October, and plunging straight back into work and trips on trains full of coughing commuters, it wasn't long before I succumbed to the first cold of the winter. This deprived me of the opportunity to get out and stretch my legs on the bike, which had sat untroubled in the shed since the end of September. By Saturday 24th I was going a bit stir crazy, and although my health was improving I still didn't feel well enough to get out on the bike - and certainly not well enough to drive to Flamborough to stand for hours in the cold and rain amongst a scrum of birders looking for a possible glimpse of an elusive Rufous-tailed Robin - a very desirable bird but not one I wanted to see that badly.
What I needed was something nice and easy, and not a million miles away. So when news broke of a Nutcracker in Norfolk - or Slender-billed Nutcracker, Nucifraga caryocatactes macrorhynchos, to give it it's unduly long sub-species and scientific names - the adrenaline shot led to a remarkable recovery and the hatching of plans to head there on the Sunday. The arrival of this species into the UK this autumn had been widely predicted following an irruption involving dozens of birds reaching the low countries on the near continent. Although, like the Robin, this bird was expected to attract a large crowd, being the first twitchable Nutcracker for 35 years, it is not exactly a skulky species, and photos online suggested it was showing nicely in a fenced garden where obtaining views ought not to be a problem.
Now Norfolk may not be a million miles away, but Mundesley, where the bird was to be found, is right up in the top right hand bit of the county so still a very long way, and I really didn't fancy the long drive alone. Putting feelers out suggested it wouldn't be hard to fill a car though and I arranged to meet a couple of other Dorset eccentrics, Rob and Brett, at my home in Wareham at 0200 for a very early start which should see us arriving in Mundesley five hours later, just around first light.
With gear and a couple of passengers squeezed into my tiny but efficient car, it was not exactly spacious but still comfortable, and we left pretty much on plan at 0200, which immediately became 0100 as the clocks went back on the hour. A few overnight road closures presented no more than a mild inconvenience and after a couple of pit stops to accomodate the bladder weaknesses of the middle-aged males on board (mainly me) we arrived at the west end of Mundesley just 30 mins behind schedule at 0630, parking sensibly a hundred yards or so away from the bird's preferred garden. Judging by the milling around of the surprisingly modest crowd, we hadn't missed much, and we got a front row position by the fence just beyond which the Nutcracker had been parading the previous day.
With the strong wind chill I was glad that I remembered a to don a thermal layer before setting off, but after 30 mins of standing around I was still starting to feel the cold. Still, the wait provided an opportunity to catch up with old friends, including Bradders and James, team-mates from our recent Shetland trip. The non-appearance of the Nutcracker was obviously slightly perturbing, but it was still early so we tried to keep our spirits as high as our hopes. Before too long a movement to our right suggested that the bird had been re-located. Then the movement built into a wave as the crowd of birders followed the front-runners in the direction of the bird, like a camo-clad scene from a zombie apocaplyse movie. I assumed we would be heading just a few gardens down but the spot where the bird had been re-found turned out to be about half a mile to the east at the southern end of the village.
The brisk walk certainly took the chill off, and birders fast and slow evenutally huffed their way to a small footbridge over the Mundesley Beck just north of Water Lane. They needn't have rushed as, at the end of it, there was the Nutcracker, a vision in dark chocolate brown intensely spotted with white. It spent the next couple of hours hopping around on fences, hedges, garage roofs, trees, lampposts, the ground, signs and wheelie bins down to a few yards. The sun was shining, everyone was smiling and we filled our boots with views and photos.
As we admired the Nutcracker we were treated to the two extremes with which host communities seem to receive a temporary invasion of twitchers: from the irascible pensioner who cursed us for standing harmlessly on a public footpath and parting politely to let her pass unimpeded as she approached, to the enterprising fundraiser who spotted the opportunity to rattle a bucket to raise money for the local inshore lifeboat. We and many others happily chipped in and he seemed genuinely humbled by the generosity of the visitors, and I noticed an online fundraiser set up by a visiting twitcher for the same cause later raised over £1,800. So these twitchers may smell a bit, and a few undoubtedly can't park, but they're not all bad!
It was still only 0900, but our views could hardly improve, and the prospect of getting back to Dorset at a sensible time and rescuing some brownie points started to appeal, so we tore ourselves away and began the long journey home. A major prang on the M11 and a couple of other road closures meant it was gone 1600 by the time we reached Wareham - but not even the arduous journey could mar what had been a brilliant day and a clinically executed twitch.
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