[Insert Tern pun of your choice here]

 'Monday megas' are the curse of the working birder, and a privilege usually reserved for the work-shy and retired, who seem make up about 90% of the birding population in these parts. The discovery of a Forster's Tern at Lytchett Bay early on 24th March was, however, sufficiently early in the day and sufficiently close to home to enable a quick smash and grab, though it was only seen thanks to a drive of shame as time didn't allow an attempted twitch by bike. This would, however, be a prized addition to the non-motorised list so I took advantage of the increasingly light evenings to head over after work for another look. 

Forster's Tern, Lytchett Bay

The Tern was not seen that evening, though I did see my first Hobby of the year, and to rub salt in I got caught in torrential rain before I could get to the train station at nearby Hamworthy to save my legs for another attempt early the following morning. This meant chalking the Hobby off the non-motorised yearlist as the journey would not be completed under my own steam, but it was a price worth paying to conserve some energy, which it sounded like I might need as the Tern was picked up in the Brownsea roost via a webcam as dusk approached.

Forster's Tern, Lytchett Bay

I passed Shaun Robson as I approached the Rock Lea viewpoint bright and early the next morning and he reassured me that the Tern was still present. On arrival at the viewpoint proper though three birders with telescopes broke the unwelcome news that it was out of view. They pointed out where it had landed and I set up my own scope in the hope that I would eventually see it move. 

Forster's Tern, Lytchett Bay

I didn't have to wait long as scanning the bank behind which it was allegedly perched I picked it up actually sitting on the saltmarsh. Alerting the others we all watched it until it took off shortly after and gradually made its way towards us, enabling excellent views and a few photos to be taken, albeit against the light. I was back at my desk in good time for work and with a smile on my face. 

Forster's Tern, Lytchett Bay

As the day progressed news of another rarity, a Woodchat Shrike, filtered through, the bird being just west of Swanage. Like the recent Hoopoe in the same area, this bird had been reported late the previous day before then skillfully relocated by local birder Rob Johnson. At 10 miles away it was a bit further than the Forster's Tern, but still close enough to be 'do-able' after work. I added Woodchat to the non-motorised year list in 2021 and 2022 in Bournemouth and Portland respectively, and this was certainly closer than either of those. 

Woodchat Shrike, Herston

I was away soon after finishing work but a headwind slowed my progress towards Herston and things got worse when I took the wrong route, overshooting the site of the bird, and had to lift the bike over a couple of gates to get back on track. Phil Saunders was on-site and relayed the disconcerting news that the bird had been chased, and possibly killed, by a Sparrowhawk, and had not been seen for 45 minutes. 

Woodchat Shrike, Herston

Whilst I continued to struggle to get my bearings, Phil rang again to say he had relocated the Woodchat so all I had to do now was find Phil! What3words came to the rescue and as I eventually rolled down a large cattle field towards him, he pointed out the Shrike within seconds of arrival. I could relax, compose myself and get a few photos in glorious evening light. It had been quite the day, and I capped it off by meeting my wife and son (whose girlfriend lives in Swanage) for dinner before cycling home in the dark. 

Woodchat Shrike, Herston

So April was pretty good for local birding and despite dipping Black-winged Stilts at both Keyhaven and Lodmoor, a Hoopoe, a Dipper, two Night Herons, a Ring Ouzel, a Scaup and a Dotterel were all seen on the bike during the month. Let's hope May continues in the same vein.

Woodchat Shrike, Herston

November...

This review of the year by instalments has become the blogging equivalent of Christmas turkey: I was sick of it after about the 5th portion, but I know it just has to be finished. So pour yourself another tot of Gaviscon, dear reader, and tuck in to my highlights for November - a rare month in that, for precious little effort invested, I saw some really good birds. Other than for work, I think I left the house on three occasions, which produced, in decreasing order of rarity:

A Forster's Tern in Essex, burying the decade-and-a-half old ghost of multiple dips on the same species in the same county - in those days I lived a lot closer in neighbouring Kent. An unexpected bonus tick late in the year and supporting evidence for my theory of the last few years that November is the new October. A straightforward choice for my bird of the month.

A waterlogged Desert Wheatear in neighbouring Devon - the first male of this species I have seen in Britain. Seen the day before twitching the Forster's Tern, so a good weekend in the year's litany of family neglect. 

And even closer to home a patch tick in the form of a flock of Barnacles at Swineham. Barely deserved in what I think was my only visit of the month.

Picking a photo of the month was a bit of a challenge for November, on account of the dearth of candidates and the complete absence of sunlight. So it'll have to be this Stonechat from Swineham.

A day out with Messrs Cook and Forster

Whilst travelling back from a short-range twitch to Devon on Saturday, news broke of a Forster's Tern in Essex. I have a bit of history with this species, as having only started chasing rare birds in the late 1990s, and dipped a couple of times on a long-staying bird at Tollesbury Wick in the same county, there hasn't been another readily accessible British occurrence since. Speaking of history, J R Forster, after whom the Tern is named, was an 18th century clergyman naturalist from Danzig who accompanied James Cook on his second voyage around the world in 1772-73. During this, according to Beolens and Watkins, he gained a reputation as a 'constant complainer and troublemaker'. A man after my own heart then.

Forster's Terns can be long-stayers when they do turn up, so while my initial thoughts were 'wait and see if it sticks around until next weekend', realising that next weekend I was unlikely to be able to leave Dorset, I decided to go for it on Sunday, if family circumstances allowed. Fortunately family circumstances were unusually accomodating and I found myself free to go. 

Most local birders had seen the Dorset Forster's Tern found by Brett Spencer in the winter of 1995-96, so it looked like I would be travelling alone. No matter as, like Forster, I had a Cook to keep me company: Alastair, the England cricket captain, and the rest of the team on Test Match Special. Although they were all in India for the 2nd test, they were beamed into my cabin by the miracle of the DAB wireless and made for excellent company on the long journey to Essex.

Storm Angus risked putting a dampener on my plans so I resolved to leave Dorset after it had blown through, hoping to arrive at Mistley Quay, where the Tern was last seen, around breakfast time. The plan went pretty smoothly, until, as I got within half an hour of the Stour Estuary, the pager bore the dreaded 'no sign' message. Bother. I pressed on regardless, figuring that there was still plenty of time for it to be found, especially as it was midday before it was discovered the previous day, suggesting that the state of the tide might have something to do with its appearance.

On arrival, the view from Mistley Quay was dominated by the mud of the Stour Estuary at low tide. A large group of twitchers was looking out forlornly onto this scene but it didn't look very tern-friendly so I quickly resolved to head east up the Estuary to check out areas with a bit more water. My first stop, an exposed spot just north of Wrabness, saw me beat a hasty retreat in the face of strong winds and lashing rain. My second was more sheltered but equally unsuccessful. I pressed on as far as Harwich, figuring that harbour mouths can be as good a place as any to look for terns, but as I peered over the harbour wall, where I was joined by a couple of carloads of birders doing likewise, the Tern was reported as having been seen further back up the Estuary, a couple of miles east of Mistley. So I had the right idea but had overshot by a few miles!

To cut a long story short, 30 minutes later I was watching the Forster's Tern, identifiable even at distance by its comma-shaped black ear patch, feeding distantly out over the storm-lashed water. With the tide rising, it was only a matter of time before the Tern reappeared at Mistley Quay, where the main river channel is much closer to the shore, so I headed back there hoping for a closer view. Sure enough, the rare visitor from North America eventually treated us to a couple of reasonably close fly-pasts - it did so in horrible light, but I was happy to get a few record shots of possibly my last new British bird of 2016.