Shetland day 3: brightening up

We saw a proper Shetland rarity on the third day of our recent nine day visit: sunshine. As the morning dawned brightly we decided to check out some promising looking gardens in remote areas of the western mainland before relocating to our accommodation for the coming week in south mainland.

Yellow-browed Warbler, Culswick

Yellow-browed Warbler, Gardins

Yellow-browed Warbler, Gardins

Pied Flycatcher, Culswick

Starting at Culswick, before long we had flushed a skulking locustalla from a roadside ditch. The most likely option in this scenario is the familiar Grasshopper Warbler, though there is always the chance of it being something rarer - Pallas's Grasshopper or Lanceolated Warbler being the most desirable. The Warbler buried itself in an iris bed but, with some gentle encouragement, flew to a ruined croft where it showed well enough to confirm it was 'just' a Gropper. Still, a promising start.

Grasshopper Warbler, Culswick

Willow Warbler, Gardins

Willow Warbler, Effearth

Male Redstart, Easter Skeld

At Gardins, Yellow-browed Warblers were the order of the day - including four together in one small bush at the gateway to a large house. The impression of there being good numbers of common migrants on the islands was confirmed as the morning progressed: Pied and Spotted Flycatchers, Redstarts, Blackcaps, Willow Warblers and Chiffchaffs. It felt very birdy and encouraged us to continue pishing our way around any suitable looking patch of habitat.

Blackcap

Blackcap, Wester Quarff

Lesser Whitethroat, Wester Quarff - probably of a race ;-)

Red Admiral - the only species of butterfly we saw in Shetland

Sparrowhawk, Wester Quarff

Highlights of the day were a couple of Red Grouse which appeared cackling over a fragment of heather-clad hillside near Easter Skeld and gave us a close flypast before vanishing over the horizon, and finally a Corncrake, flushed by David at Fladdibister where we were searching for a Red-backed Shrike. We assumed the Corncrake would run for cover and never be seen again but as we approached where it had landed, it flushed again to give conclusive (but unphotographable) flight views.

Red Grouse, Easter Skeld 

Red Grouse, Easter Skeld

Red Grouse, Easter Skeld

Redwing, Easter Skeld

Spurned

The laws of diminishing returns have really kicked in with my British list and new ticks are getting harder to come by. I've just gone six months without one, which is a record in my 15 year birding career. So a Rock Thrush at Spurn this week was too much to resist. Being a diligent public servant I was unable to leave Dorset's Council Tax payers to fend for themselves on Thursday or Friday, and needing to be back in Dorset for 1800 on Saturday evening meant that waiting on news that morning was not an option. It was a case of go and give myself a chance, or stay at home and have no chance.

Wheatear at Spurn: nice, but no champagne

So after an early evening kip I left home late on Friday night for the long drive north. My small circle of potential lift-sharers had either seen Rock Thrush, gone already or had more sense than to accept the offer of a lift, so a solo trip was on the cards. Not that I minded, it's sometimes good to be alone with one's thoughts, terrible singing and flatulence.

Yellow Wagtail: also nice, but still no champagne.

I was expecting a big crowd but was surprised to find I was only the second birder on site when I arrived at 0400. There was still room in the small car park at the Blue Bell by the time the sun came up, suggesting that many others were waiting on news before committing. Spurn was bitterly cold but wrapped up warm and full of optimism I scoured the area anyway. The Rock Thrush's favoured field held nothing but Yellow Wagtails and Wheatears. The neighbouring caravan parks which it had frequented held, well, mainly caravans. And neither was it on the beach, where failed sea defences lay broken and mangled like twitchers' dreams.

At least I wasn't the only one. I left shortly before this lot threw themselves off Spurn's low cliffs like so many lemmings.

By mid-morning there was still no sign. At this point a twitch can become something like a bad relationship: it's obvious it's over but still difficult to leave. But I had set a deadline of midday and stuck to it before retracing my steps down the motorway network to the south coast.

Grasshopper Warbler, Cogden

A big dip wouldn't be a big dip without missing something good at home so it was absolutely no surprise that a twitchable Red-rumped Swallow spent the day in Weymouth. So the less said about Spurn the better, and to happier thoughts of a brilliantly showy Grasshopper Warbler which was reeling in the scrub back on the Dorset coast early on Friday morning. There. Feeling better already.

Grasshopper Warbler, Cogden