Migrants!

The fine forecast for Bank Holiday Monday presented me with a choice: flog around the patch scraping the barrel for migrants; or head for the bright light-houses of Portland and guaranteed new arrivals falling from the skies. It was my last day before returning to work, and I am weak, so I headed west. News soon filtered through of the first decent fall of spring with 400+ Willow Warblers going through early on. While I missed the main event, plenty were still lingering around the Obs garden when I arrived, some singing con gusto, some half-heartedly, others not at all. But with birds seemingly everywhere there was plenty to photograph.

Redstart, Avalanche Road - first of the spring on Portland (#141)

A first summer male

Willow Warbler at the Bill (#142)

One of many ringed at the Obs on Monday morning

Also bearing a leg-iron was this Firecrest (#143)

Feeding energetically but not always very visibly among the blossom

Next stop was the Bill itself where the resident auks were back on their breeding cliffs and buzzing back and forth on fishing forays. No Puffins though, which were probably feeding out at sea on the falling tide, or perhaps just avoiding the attentions of a Peregrine which was perched uncomfortably close to some Razorbills on the cliffs and eating one of their congeners. Walking back to the car I flushed my first Tree Pipit of the year which flew off with a hoarse call.

Guillemot (#144)

Razorbill (#145)

Razorbills trying to look small and unpalatable as a Peregrine plucks one of their pals

Chiffchaff

Meadow Pipit

Wheatear

As an eventful morning drew to a close, with a family bike ride to Arne planned for mid-afternoon, it was time to head home - but not before a quick canter around Radipole Lake and Lodmoor hoping for some reedbed birds for the photo year list - unsuccessfully as it turned out, but there were a few other goodies to snap to make up for it. Here and elsewhere Spring seemed to announce its arrival conclusively on Monday. And very welcome back it is too.

Well, I was in the area...

...possibly the only angle I haven't yet photographed the Bonaparte's Gull from

Great Crested Grebe, Radipole Lake

Pochard, Lodmoor

Brimstone at Arne

And a leucistic Sika Deer stag at Arne to end the Bank Holiday



Ducking

Garganey is our only summer migrant duck, arriving in small numbers from wintering quarters in Africa, and as well as one of the first spring migrants, it is also one of the most attractive. We had several at Swineham last year but none so far this, so news of one at nearby Longham Lakes saw me heading there yesterday. The bird, a handsome drake, hugged the edge of the South Lake, keeping company with a family of Mallard, the female of which tweaked his tail a couple of times when he got too close to her newly hatched ducklings.

Drake Garganey, Longham Lakes (#137)

I stayed with this bird for a couple of hours as it fed in lakeside vegetation

This one even does impressions: here, the Sydney Opera House...

...and here Mick Jagger

Eventually it did flush when a stoopid poodle type almost jumped on it...

...fortunately it did a circuit and gave a close flypast

A more intimate shot in the vegetation

It was feeding intently but remained alert to passing joggers and dogs

The Garganey was close enough to hear it's distinctive call which is likened to a finger being run across a comb - and a bit like a Ptarmigan being played at the wrong speed, I reckon. Probably the smartest duck of the week, and also the closest, but a good selection of commoner species at Abbotsbury were also pretty obliging during my visit on Good Friday.

Drake Pochard

Drake Shoveler

Drake Wigeon

Drake Teal

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.