Grey Sunday

It was a bit of a Grey Sunday around Portland and Weymouth yesterday weather wise. Fortunately it was brightened up by some smart birds, the memory of which was enough to cheer me along on the way into work this morning on Blue Monday - the most depressing day of the year, apparently. As well as a handsome male Black Redstart at Chesil Cove, a female type was also present. A few pictures of this and some other highlights of the day below.

Black Redstart, Chesil Cove

Just as confiding as the male

Always a pleasure to bump into this species

It's been a good winter for approachable Great Northern Divers

This one was close in off Portland Castle

A Kestrel at Portland Bill was a bit bedraggled

The Bill quarry Little Owls have a bit more shelter

 

Male Red-breasted Merganser near Portland Castle

Wren, Portland Bill

I was able to photograph this Dartford Warbler at Portland Bill out of the car window

On the way home, a Goldcrest was singing over the traffic noise in downtown Weymouth

Med Gull is virtually guaranteed in the Radipole Lake car park at this time of year

Another Purbeck Pallas's

Purbeck's Winspit Valley held two Pallas's Warblers yesterday so I headed there when the rain stopped this morning. I had barely left the village and started down the footpath to the valley when the bright yellow rump of a Pallas's Warbler buzzed down the track in front of me and ducked into the hedge. This was no doubt the same bird as that found yesterday by Andrew Lawson, brother of fellow Swineham regular Marcus. Down at the bottom end of the valley I could find nothing rarer than a Firecrest and a few Blackcaps, but with large numbers of Goldcrests present, the valley held a sense of promise at least.

Pallas's Warbler - my 3rd in Dorset in 2 days

Not perfect photos (taken at ISO 3200 in very low light) but an intimate view at least

Blackcap at Winspit

One of many Goldcrests in the valley

Goldcrest

The seaward end of Winspit Valley

A late male Southern Hawker at Winspit

Brambling in the car park at Arne RSPB to end the day

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.

Coming, ready or not

Hundreds of migrant birds seemed to decide yesterday that enough was enough, and, whether the weather in Britain was ready or not, they were coming anyway. After yet another week marred by illness, today I resolved to join them.

Wheatear: one of over 50 at Portland Bill today

On Saturday, Dorset's migration hotspots of Portland Bill, Hengistbury Head and, er, the drain behind PC World in Poole, were apparently buzzing with Chiffchaffs and Wheatears. Star of the show though was a White-spotted Bluethroat at Portland Bill, so I headed there first thing this morning.

This Black Redstart showed while the Bluethroat didn't

Portland this morning was as it should be: heaving with Wheatears. But after couple of hours standing around by the Obs quarry, where the Bluethroat had been the previous night, these and a Black Redstart were about all I had seen. A walk to the Top Fields produced a few Ring Ouzel and another came in off the sea as I headed back down to the Bill.

Goldcrest at the Bill

As I reached the car and was thinking of heading off, the pager reported that the Bluethroat was back, and after an undignified trot on my part and a short wait, it revealed itself in the quarry. It stayed hunkered down as a bloke with a strimmer, oblivious to the telescopes and lenses trained on him, stripped the vegetation from just above its head. Almost a red-spotted Bluethroat.

Male White-spotted Bluethroat

The strimming man eventually got camera shy and packed up, allowing the Bluethroat to return to feed on the path in full view. It was a tonic to be back out with my lens freshly back from the menders. Unfortunately, it turned out that the lens was fine, and it was the camera shutter button that was faulty all along. A shutter release cable circumvented the problem in the short-term, and an impulse purchase of a new Canon 7D online last night will do so in the medium-term.

The Bluethroat flashed its rufous tail sides aggressively at a Robin at one point

I made the mistake of discussing this purchase with several photographers present today, who told me what a crap camera it was, or that I'd paid too much, you know, just the stuff you want to hear when you've just sold a child to purchase consumer electronics...

Showing the leg ring fitted at the Bill yesterday

This was a Dorset tick for me and quite a few others present by the sound of it, and I headed home full of the joys of spring. Not even dipping on a Kentish Plover at Ferrybridge on the way back could wipe the smile off.