Birthday treats

It was my birthday recently - a stuttering but undefeated innings of 48, in case you were wondering. To celebrate almost half-a-century of under-achievement I cleared my professional decks, booked the day off work and did some birding around Poole Harbour. The children were at school and Claire was at work, affording me the luxury of neglecting the entire family to go looking for birds without guilt.

Lesser Yellowlegs at Lytchett Bay

Green-winged Teal, just leaving Lytchett Bay

Redhead Smew distantly in Holes Bay

The once fierce competition between Lytchett Bay and Swineham as Poole Harbour birding locations, a fire stoked in these pages on more than one occasion in the past, has tailed off somewhat in recent years. Lytchett has gone from strength to strength under sympathetic management by the RSPB, being diligently scoured by Top 10 Patchwork Challengers (impressive, though I still think Patchwork Challenge sounds like a needlecraft contest). Swineham has gone downhill under a less wildlife-friendly regime, being wilfully neglected by feckless regulars like yours truly. So much so that I felt barely a flicker of shame in shunning the latter for the former to go looking for Lytchett's two long-staying winter rarities from the Americas: a Lesser Yellowlegs and drake Green-winged Teal.

Dark-bellied Brent Geese at Baiter Park

Coot, Poole Park

Drake Goldeneye and Red-breaster Merganser were out in the middle of Poole Park lake

The Yellowlegs was easy enough, sitting out nicely with a Redshank for comparison, the only two medium-sized waders on one of the pools. The Teal required a bit more luck: it flew off just after I arrived, but not before a kindly soul had let me have a quick squint at it through his scope, hence the dodgy record shot above, hurriedly snapped as it pelted away. Around the corner a returning redhead Smew was in Holes Bay for its third winter, while Poole Park held a few photogenic fowl as always. I caught up with a trio of Great White Egrets slightly further afield at Longham Lakes before heading over on the Sandbanks ferry to complete a circuit of the Harbour.

A lone Black-tailed Godwit was on the shore of Poole Park lake

Little Egret, Poole Park lake

Three Great White Egrets at Longham Lakes

The last hour of daylight was spent at Studland, where the raucous calls of a couple of Sandwich Terns were a cruel reminder of just how far away is spring, and the even more raucous calls of the local Ring-necked Parakeets were an equally cruel reminder of just how far away and warm is their native India.

Ring-necked Parakeet, Studland

Ring-necked Parakeet, Studland

Sandwich Tern, Studland

I would say watching the sun go down at Studland completed the day, but that wasn't really the end of it as on arriving home there was a birthday present to play with: the US Capitol building from the Lego Architecture range. Quite repetitive assembling the orderly lines of neoclassical columns and other fiddly bits, but ridiculously satisfying, a pure indulgence, and, I am reliably informed by the teenager of the house, substantially more socially acceptable than making an Airfix model. The perfect gift for the middle-aged man-boy in your life.

The US Capitol Building courtesy of the Lego Architecture range - George Washington laid the first brick. If you listen carefully this model makes a strange whirring noise: the sound of a miniature George turning in his grave.

Don't let the bustard get you down

That's what I had to tell myself this morning when it became clear that the chance of adding Little Bustard to my British list had slipped away, or become fox-food, overnight. While the rest of twitch-kind spent New Year's Day hot-footing it to East Yorkshire, I was stuck at home in Dorset, 'on call' for emergencies, one of the additional privileges of rank which I now get to enjoy.

Blyth's Pipit, Calder Park - quite a leggy bird with neat mantle stripes

Showing shortish hindclaw (shorter than Richard's)

Plenty of artillery still lined up for the Pipit

It was the first time I'd been on call, and as it was only for 2 days over the turn of the year I figured that would be as safe a time as any to be out of circulation. Unfortunately, both days were the only ones on which the Bustard chose to be twitchable. As well as not being able to leave the county, I was unable to drink, so drowning my sorrows was not an option. Plus I had to be within an hour of HQ, so I couldn't even join other Dorset birders on a New Year birdboat around Poole Harbour. So much for that well meaning New Year resolution in my last post to be more positive about life. Well let me tell you, people, positive sucks!

Blue Tit, Pugneys CP

Goldcrest, Pugneys CP

I guess this must be a 3rd winter Yellow-legged Gull - unless anyone can put me straight? Quite striking in the field/lake/whatever.

I must say being unable to leave Dorset felt like a new and particularly cruel kind of torture in the circumstances - a real twitcher's nightmare. And I'm not sure whether it's worse or better that there were no emergencies after all either. Had armed rebels seized the Corn Exchange in Dorchester and I been called in to negotiate, or at least organise pizza, then missing out on a Little Bustard might have felt worthwhile. I certainly had an incentive to bring an early end to a siege. But as it was, the emergency hotline never rang, other than with offers of lifts to see the Bustard, which of course I had to turn down.

Black-headed Gull, Pugneys CP



Coot, Calder Park

Moorhen, Calder Park

As you may have gathered from the photos, I headed north this morning anyway as soon as the end of my stint on duty would allow, and was over half way to Yorkshire when news came through that there was no sign of the Bustard. But I was sufficiently far up the M1, and sufficiently had the hump, to press on and look for the long-staying Blyth's Pipit near Wakefield anyway to salvage something from the day, and also to keep myself within striking distance in case the Bustard should be relocated later.

Redwing - not many of these around home at the moment

Treecreeper, Pugneys CP

Jay, Pugneys CP

The Pipit, so elusive early in its stay that many went away with only flight views, certainly rescued the day from disaster. I parked the car, walked 100 yards and papped it less than 10 seconds after picking my spot at the end of a line of admirers. Many of these had also been heading for the Bustard which made me feel a bit better - a problem shared etc.

Drake Goldeneye, Pugneys CP

Female Goldeneye, Pugneys CP

Male Kestrel, Pugneys CP

The Pipit then flew to a patch of waste ground next to a KFC to where the twitch relocated. A young attendant came out of the restaurant, I presumed to shoo away the smelly birders who were parking but not purchasing, but no: he offered anyone carrying a tripod a 10% discount! I would have taken him up on the offer had I not thrown mine in a skip with the telescope at Leicester Forest East services.


Female Bullfinch, Pugneys CP

And a pair

Bullfinch

After a bit of aimless watching the long grass, I figured I could spend the rest of the day there and not do any better than my initial views, so decided to check out nearby Pugneys Country Park, where I saw my first Bufflehead many years ago, returning from a Scottish trip with Matt Jones. Local gen suggested that this site might produce a Willow Tit - I managed to hear one in a fast moving tit flock but could not clap eyes on it.

The habitats of Pugneys: plastic...

...footballs...

...plastic AND footballs

After a couple of hours just birding the angst of twitching had substantially receded, and I was ready for the long journey home, but still sufficiently distressed to need the soothing influence of Classic FM all the way. Sibelius and Schubert I didn't much care for, but Liszt hit the spot as I approached Wareham with the perfect composition to sum up my day: 'Consolation No 3' (this was my 3rd Blyth's Pipit after all). I took it as a sign, and spent the rest of the evening with him and his mate Brahms.

An unfamiliar call like a manic Fieldfare was eventually explained by this character, sat in a hedgerow at Pugneys.

Sick as a Parrot? I know how you feel. Apparently it's a Port Lincoln Parrot, native to Australia. A celebrity in local news - and top marks to the Wakefield Express for eschewing 'Twitcher's flocked...' bylines in favour of 'Pugney's Parrot has beautiful plumage'. FACT.

Kestrel. Pic of the day.

It's my birthday and I'll twitch if I want to

It was my birthday last week and I was told that for the weekend that followed I could do anything I wanted. Anything. After twitching an American Coot in Inverness was ruled out, along with some other unprintables, the suggestion of a weekend in Sherwood Forest was deemed acceptable. The choice of accommodation was between (i) the children's dream weekend at Centerparcs for the price of a medium-sized family car or (ii) a couple of nights in a cheap motel for a fraction of that. The motel was great, complete with a private plunge pool (ok, bath), multi-media entertainment centre (clock-radio) and acres of landscaped grounds (car park). I did say it was my birthday.

Twitching the American Coot in Scotland did not fall within the definition of doing 'anything I liked' last weekend. So here's a Eurasian Coot in Clumber Park, Notts, instead - a Honey Buzzard hotspot in summer.

Marsh Tit, Sherwood Forest

In truth this choice of location was not entirely motivated by a desire to imbibe the spirit of Robin Hood. No, the area is currently playing host to a flock of Parrot Crossbills, a bird I felt cruelly robbed of catching up with late last year after a couple of dips followed by my extended absence from birding due to 'health problems'.

Coal Tit, Sherwood Forest

Blue Tits, Sherwood Forest

Speaking of health, time was I would have marked the passage of another year of my life with a boozy session. Two things have put paid to this. First, acceptance that my tolerance of the ale is approaching that of Blackadder - a couple of pints and I'm singing songs about goblins and insulting close relatives.

Second, some well-intentioned but rather joyless experts have created the idea of 'Dry January'. It's hard enough to get people to go drinking at this time of year with everyone skint after Christmas without this: no consideration for those of us with birthdays in the New Year! And if you go to the Alcohol Concern website, there's a tiny disclaimer at the bottom: 'Please note that this is not a medical detox programme and should not be attempted by people with an alcohol dependency problem'. So just killing responsible levels of joy then?

Goosander, Rufford - a good site for Hawfinch and Lesserspot

Drake Goosanders, Rufford Mill

Anyway, enough bitter recriminations about a high-life lost. At first, if I'm honest, I was worried that this trip was just me dragging a reluctant family along on a tick-hunt: the workmanlike pursuit of a new bird to add to the list for the shallow satisfaction of seeing it grind forward by another meaningless notch. But in the end it was much better than that: yes another meaningless tick was indeed gained (at least until the Crossbills are lumped) but there was also quality time away with the family, a new part of the country to explore, other good birds to see and another potential holiday venue recce-ed for future reference. Plus we got to don capes of Lincoln Green, shoot our bows and arrows in the woods and visit the Major Oak of legend.

Drake Pochard, Rufford

Drake Tufted Duck, Rufford

I say I gained a tick, but actually these birds have proved controversial on 'Birdforum'. (Sorry - I've just realised how ridiculous that sounds - the suggestion that adding two and two makes four being controversial on Birdforum). Some say you can't really tick Parrots in the absence of sonogram evidence. Others that some are so obviously 'Parroty' that they can be safely identified with good views and on call. The Budby Common birds had been hanging around in a flock of 14, had been faithful to the same area of pines (which Parrots favour), and sonograms of their calls apparently looked good for Parrot, so they seemed a reasonably safe bet. 

This male had a particularly chunky bill, and repeated the curse words of passing birders, both good features for Parrot

This forehead-less female was chucking cones around like, well, like they were the tiny seed-bearing fruits of a pine tree. We weren't fortunate enough to have them drinking out of puddles at our feet, and the light was shocking, but got good views through other people's scopes at least.

To me, having listened to and read about as much about Crossbills as my brain could handle, they sounded good for Parrots and they looked good for Parrots. While there was undoubtedly some variation in bill size/shape within the flock, none of the bills looked small enough to be 'typical' Common, and the flight calls were definitely purer and deeper than the 'glip' of Common. After further research, however, I have settled on the most scientifically fool-proof method of deciding whether or not they can be ticked: eenie, meenie, miney, moe...

The flock flew off after a while but heading back to the car in the direction they had flown, I came across what appeared to be part of the flock feeding right overhead. A horrible angle, and shocking light again but the head and bill looking disproportionately large here.

Deep-billed and bull-headed, like the books say, and looking very Parrot-like at this angle, though perhaps the lower mandible not bulging as much as some.

Supporting cast at Pagham Harbour

The supporting cast for the Paddyfield Warbler today included:

Coot

Teal

Reed Bunting