The end is nigh...

...no, not the end of the world (not quite yet, anyway), but the end of my review of 2018, broken down into two bite-sized chunks, of which this is the second. And if you're thinking 'well it's a bit late for all this', you'd be right. I spilt a bottle of water over my laptop over the Xmas break, and it took a while to recover the hard drive and procure a new one before I could bring these musings to you.

Purple Emperor, Bentley Wood

But back to 2018, and we pick up where we left off in July and the middle of the long, hot summer. The first day of the month saw me over the border in Wiltshire at Bentley Wood, well known for its population of Purple Emperor. It didn't disappoint, and a pristine male feasting on dog dirt provided some exquisite if smelly photo opportunities.

Scarce Blue-tailed Damselfly

My summer search for rare Odonata continued and I was lucky to catch up with Scarce Blue-tailed Damselfly on a local heathland just before the last of its breeding pools dried up in the baking sun. Even more exotic was a mini-invasion of Southern Migrant Hawkers - I travelled to Somerset to see my first only to find that the first for Dorset had turned up at Lytchett Bay when my back was turned.

Southern Migrant Hawker, Priddy Mineries, Somerset

August

The first half of August saw us in the French Alps for a family holiday. Two trips to the Col de la Colombiere provided some of the highlights of the trip - a couple of close encounters with Lammergeier, the first just above the car park at the col, the second a reward for an arduous climb to the ridge above the col.

Lammergeier, Col de la Colombiere

The col also held an excellent selection of butterflies, most notable among which were the rare Apollo and Mountain Clouded Yellow. We also enjoyed close encounters with Ibex and Alpine Marmot and a long list of new butterflies for my European list including, Alpine Heath, Lesser Mountain Ringlet, Meadow, Mountain, Shepherd's and Niobe Fritillary

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Apollo, Col de la Colombiere

Second only to the Lammergeiers for mountain majesty was a Short-toed Eagle which sat in a pine tree watching us as we got our of the car just below the Col de la Colombiere. My children continue to remind me how I babbled excitedly at complete strangers parked next to us about this and forced them to marvel at it through my telescope. Well I still maintain it was genuine interest they were feigning.

Short-toed Eagle, Col de la Colombiere

September

Back in Dorset and autumn migration was well underway with many common migrants passing through one of my favourite local sites, Greenlands Farm near Studland. Yellow Wagtails, Redstarts and Spotted Flycatchers were present on every visit along with the occasional Osprey. 

Spotted Flycatcher, Greenlands Farm

The end of the month saw me teaming up with David Bradnum, Howard Vaughan and Bob Vaughan once more on the long road north to Shetland. Before boarding the ferry we had seen a Woodchat Shrike and a Rose-coloured Starling at Barns Ness, and the American White-winged Scoter at Musselburgh - my second encounter of 2018 with this bird.

Woodchat Shrike, Barns Ness

October

Our week on Shetland was perhaps not a classic but we still saw some excellent birds - Citrine Wagtail, Eastern Yellow Wagtail, Pied-billed Grebe, American Golden Plover, Common Rosefinch, Marsh, Melodious and River Warbler being the highlights.

River Warbler, Unst

While the Eastern Yellow Wagtail was a tick for all four of us, views were brief and distant compared to a very obliging Citrine Wag which was present on Bressay during our stay. This bird allowed a close approach and when we had got as close as we dared it started walking towards us!

Citrine Wagtail, Bressay

Back on the south coast October was passing uneventfully - until the 15th that is, when news of a Grey Catbird in Cornwall got the birding world asking 'will it stay until the weekend?' Fortunately it did, and Jol Mitchell and I couldn't resist the lure of adding this stellar American rarity to our British lists. A jolly day with Messrs Bradnum and Lowen for company.

Grey Catbird, Land's End

November

After the excitement of Shetland and the Grey Catbird in Cornwall in October, I didn't get out much in November - but there was still time for the birding world to throw up a few more surprises in 2018. Chief among these was a late Little Swift. I had promised myself that the next time one of this species roosted on a building at dusk I would go and see it come off the roost at dawn. This one went to roost under a streetlight, allowing me the luxury of twitching it in the dark on arrival, staying over in a local motel and going back in the morning to photograph it in glorious sunlight.

Little Swift

Little Swift

Continuing the November swift theme, a Pallid Swift at Chesil Cove late in the month enabled me to add this species to my Dorset list, putting to bed the ghost of the Christchurch bird a few years ago which was taken by a Sparrowhawk just minutes before my arrival.

Pallid Swift, Chesil Cove

December

If November saw me not getting out much, December saw me go almost into hibernation, as opportunities to get out and about trickled to a halt. Just a couple of highlights spring to mind: a Mandarin Duck, a proper Christmas Cracker of a bird, which took up residence in Poole Park; and my last Dorset tick of the year, a very co-operative Little Bunting which spent a few days grovelling on the verge of a Portland side-street.

Mandarin, Poole Park

And so there you have it, a year in memories and pictures. With thanks as usual to all those who shared them, and particularly those who I neglected while searching for them!

Little Bunting, Chiswell

Vulture culture

I wasn't expecting to squeeze much in the way of wildlife photography into a family holiday in the French Alps with friends earlier this month, but I knew it would put me within striking distance of the area where a small population of Lammergeier had been established by a reintroduction scheme in the latter part of the last century. So when the folks we had travelled with spent a day visiting some other friends in the Annecy area, the balance of power within our party shifted in favour of a trip to the mountains east of there.

A once-in-a-lifetime experience of being eye-balled by a Lammergeier at point blank range - cropped only slightly

Finding good gen on birding in the French Alps wasn't easy - my old 'Where to watch birds in France' guide suggested the area around Sallanches was the place to head for the Lammergeier, a.k.a the Bearded Vulture. However, it was otherwise a bit short on specifics: 'from here, a minor road heads west into the mountains', it said, which didn't really narrow things down. Googling produced a few more recent blog posts from visiting British birders which suggested that the area around the Col de la Colombiere, a high mountain pass at about 1,600m, might be worth a visit.

With a cloudless sky not even I could screw up this photo-opportunity too badly (taken 11th August)

An early start was recommended due to high visitor numbers and limited parking at the col, but by the time I had roused my team with croissants and coffee, and circumnavigated a road closure en route, we didn't arrive until mid-morning. In view of this we were fortunate to bag a parking slot a few hundred yards below the col near the first hairpin bend to the west. Fate intervened, not for the last time that day, as the alarm call of an unseen Alpine Marmot betrayed the presence of a Short-toed Eagle sitting in a tree not 50 yards away.

The Lammergeier from our first close encounter on 8th August

It stayed long enough for us to set up the telescope for exceptional views, which we shared with a family from Bristol who had pulled up next to us. On reflection, I was probably keener to show them this amazing bird than they were to look at it, but they smiled politely and appeared impressed, so thanks for indulging the geeky bloke with 'scope, mystery Bristolians!

Kestrel attacks Lammergeier...

This auspicious start sent us up the track north of the col with springs in our steps, though our enthusiasm was soon curbed by a combination of the steep gradient and the intense heat. About 20 minutes walk from the col we found ourselves on a grassy shelf overlooking the switchback road towards Cluses to the east and with a good view of a horseshoe of imposing peaks to the north. Here I met another British birder who seemed to know the area well and who advised that, if we wanted to see Lammergeier, this was the place to be. I needed no further encouragement to down tools (I was regretting carrying that telescope by this point) and wait.

...and the Lammergeier responds

Within half an hour the English guy called 'Lammergeier' as the massive flying cross of a dark-plumaged juvenile appeared from behind a crag. It was much closer that my only previous sighting of this species in the Pyrenees over a decade ago, so I was delighted with the views and the photographs. Within the hour we had seen an adult bird cruising the ridge some 700m above us, and while my wife and eldest son decided to hike further up the slope, my youngest was flagging in the heat so we returned towards a cafe on the col intent on procuring age-appropriate cold beverages.

With a beady eye out for another Kestrel attack, the Lammergeier dropped below the col and away

As we descended to just above the car park, another shrill alarm call caused us to look up - this time it was given by a Kestrel rather than a Marmot, and was aimed not at a Short-toed Eagle but at a Lammergeier just above our heads! Unfortunately it was coasting away from us and I feared I had blown the chance of a close photograph. Racing up the slope more in hope than expectation, to my surprise it banked and came back towards the col, giving unbelievably good views, first hanging above me in a cloudy sky, then soaring slowly in front of a cliff face which made finding the right exposure a bit easier.

The bird at the col came too close to fit in the frame with the lens at 400mm

Still shaking from the excitement of this unexpectedly close encounter, things got even better when the impudent Kestrel returned for another tilt at the vulture, causing it to bank sharply at point blank range, drop to within a few metres of Rowan's head, and proceed to spar with the plucky falcon almost directly below us.

I was pleased with this initial view of an immature Lammergeieir, let alone what came later

I never dreamt I would witness a Lammergeier defending itself with a full, talons-up body roll, even less so that I would be able to photograph such a rare interaction between the mis-matched raptors. Fortunately I was able to track most of the spectacle with the camera and a few frames came out reasonably sharp. Rowan was buzzing almost as much as his father having been close enough to the vulture to hear the wind in its wings.

Almost!

I had been a bit miffed with Claire and George for yomping off up the mountain but, again, fate had clearly intended it to be so as had they not done this, we wouldn't have returned to the car when we did to witness the encounter. My only regret was that they weren't there to share the experience. On their return Claire gave a reasonably convincing description of what sounded like a colony of Cynthia's Fritillary around some pools above the col at about 2,100m. This was enough to encourage us to return to the col a few days later, after our friends had returned to England, as we made our way from our base near Annecy to a budget hotel in Sallanches for a few additional nights in France.

An imposing bird at any distance, but particularly up close

On this second visit, Rowan and Clare opted to sit out the climb and George, who has become something of a mountain goat, kindly agreed to drag me up in his wake. It was another fantastic few hours, providing my first views of Ibex, a picnic with a pair of Alpine Chough and a Crag Martin fly-past (more on which later). There were also opportunities to photograph some new Alpine butterflies (to feature in a later post when they have passed the rigorous Butterfly Conservation identification review panel process, sparing me the embarrassment of labelling them incorrectly :-)).

I thought these close views of Short-toed Eagle would take some beating...

When we reached the high pools we could find nothing resembling a Cynthia's Fritillary (on returning breathless and sweaty to the col Claire clarified that she had, in fact, just seen the one, and then only briefly...) so we pressed on up to the ridge above at about 2,300m.

...like the Lammergeier, it gave us the full hard stare treatment

This razor-blade of rock seemed as good a spot as any to stop for our basic lunch of French loaf, on which I almost choked as a massive shadow rolled down the cliff in front of us and another adult Lammergeier broke the horizon of a cloudless sky. In an instant it was over us and heading away but we were able to track its flight until it alighted on a distant crag.

A slight heat haze - but still my best views of this species

I considered myself exceptionally fortunate to have seen both star raptors so well, and delighted that both children were able to experience the awe of a close encounter with them too. Stand by for more news from the Alps in the coming days. Lots of photos to get through!

Short-toed Eagle, Col de la Colombiere

Moreish

Cycled back to Morden Bog today for another look at the Short-toed Eagle, partly to avoid adding to the anticipated parking chaos, partly to get it on my bike list. It was a warm morning so I was a bit concerned about getting bitten half to death on the heath by the bugs which seem to find my blood so moreish. I needn't have worried - 500+ meatier, sweatier specimens than I had already assembled, providing ample distraction for the midges. After a patient wait, I got what I came for: a flight view. The bird took a short flight last night which I missed while cleaning my glasses - it was that short - but today's was the full works - a low flap and glide followed by a couple of majestic circuits before it gained height and soared south-ish, a Buzzard and a Hobby doing their best to see it out of Morden Bog airspace. The distance and heat haze combined to make photography a challenge but having just seen a bird I never thought I'd see in Britain there can be no complaints.

 

Dorset Downs - and Ups

My last post chronicled some minor ups and downs in my birding week but those were as nothing compared with the ones I experienced today. The morning started as several others have recently, with an early report of Bee-eaters at Portland Bill. We had friends coming over and they were kind enough to delay their departure to allow me an attempted smash and grab. I knew the chances were slim, but having dipped one earlier in the week I had the hump and sometimes I would rather have a go than sit at home and wonder if I could have made it. En route the phone rang but I couldn't take the call from Steve Smith as I was driving. Having reached the Bill and found precisely no Bee-eaters, I made my way back to high ground to return the call.

Short-toed Eagle, Morden Bog: possibly my worst record shot ever. But am I bovvered?

At this point it emerged that our mutual friend Paul Morton had reported a Short-toed Eagle at Morden Bog, less than 10 minutes from my house in Wareham. There was talk of photos, which Steve hadn't yet seen, and of the bird flying off to the east. Over the course of the next half-hour, Paul's photos were circulated and I received one text and one email from Steve. These contained a total of 9 words, 5 of which were just four letters long and began with an 'F'. I repeated the same word several times myself as I tortured myself with the thought that, had I stayed at home, and taken Steve's call at 0958, I might just have made it to Morden Bog in time to see the Eagle before it flew, never to be seen again.

We had a family walk to Dancing Ledge planned with our non-birding friends, who had now arrived, so I did my best to put thoughts of Short-toed Eagle out of my head, and prepared to knuckle down to some hard-core Puffin-spotting. Four birds were present and this calmed my mood considerably as all cooed at them appreciatively. At least until some character in a rib flushed the Puffins and all the Guillemots off the cliffs by going in for too close a look.

Just as we got back to the car, the pager wailed a mega-alert for the second time today, which could only mean one thing: Short-toed Eagle re-found. I imagined it would be somewhere in the New Forest by now but no - it was back up the road at Morden Bog. More potty-mouth action ensued. Steve lives near where we were parked so I arranged to meet him at his place, having secured permission to bale out on family and friends - I say permission, well, I certainly asked, but I've been informed since I didn't exactly wait for an answer. I underestimated the distance to Steve's, but ran it anyway, with camera, scope, rucksack etc swinging inelegantly off my back. But this was no time for dignity.

Puffins at their traditional site off Dancing Ledge

A rapid scuttle through Purbeck followed, past the tourist buses doing three point turns in Corfe Castle and the Nissan Micra drivers doing what Nissan Micra drivers do at times like this, until, released from the thraldom of traffic, we reached Lawson's Clump where the Eagle was last reported. The high ground at Oven's Hill gave us a good vantage point, but all I could see was a distant Andy Mears, last spied when we shared a car for the Gull of Kintyre twitch. We made our way over to him and were joined by Nick Hopper and Claire. Scanning forlornly, we speculated about the remoteness of the chance of picking this bird up sat in a tree in the tree-filled landscape which lay before us. Steve then took a call from George Green, author of the wonderful Birds of Dorset, a scholarly work which after today will need a little update. George had called to say he thought he had the bird: sat in a tree.

Adonis Blue: a classic species of Dorset coastal downland, seen on our coastal walk before things all got a bit crazy, Eagle-wise

After more cursing, a short drive and a wheezy jog we were hauling ourselves up on the high ridge above Morden Bog's Old Decoy Pond, to find George, God forever bless him, alone but with his scope trained on a Short-toed Eagle! Cue more swearing, this time with added backslapping and then some frantic phone calls to get news out to all and sundry. At this point, around 1700, just seven of us were watching the bird. By the time I left at 1930, the crowd had swelled to over 100. My own selfish need for a tick met, it was then a question of talking in friends who were in transit.

Ian was just down the road in Wareham. Brett was on the way from Weymouth. Jol, Joe and Caroline Mitchell were on the way back from London, somewhere in the New Forest. Paul was legging it from Surrey. They arrived in roughly that order, in varying stages of hyper-ventilation. Brett confessed to some stressful and moderately aggressive driving, Jol had fallen over and sustained a nasty cut, and Paul phoned in a panic from a place called the The Gurkha Restaurant pleading for directions. Fortunately it was The Gurkha in Wareham not the one in Weymouth or that would have been seriously off course. Ian works for Natural England, so as well as seeing the bird he was able to organise some off-road parking, and keep good order on this, his employer's excellent National Nature Reserve (if you go tomorrow, please stick to the paths to protect the ground-nesting birds). Happily, everyone connected: I counted them in, and I counted them out.

An unbelievable day. Unbelievable. So glad we decided to holiday at home this week. Well done Paul for the find - even though it ruins my chances of claiming the Dorset raptor of the year award, it couldn't happen to a nicer bloke. And a big thank you to George for sticking it out on at Morden Bog when myself and others had given up hope.


Lesser Whitethroat near Langton Matravers - a ringed bird

Leaving the south coast today? Bad decision...

Short-toed Eagle, French Pyrenees 2006.

Perhaps it's payback time for yesterday's rather smug post about the serendipity of staying on the south coast while many others had gone north for a Rufous-tailed Robin which wasn't there, and getting lucky with an Isabelline Wheatear instead. Family commitments took me inland today, to Warminster. Half-way there and the butterfly-in-the-stomach inducing wail of a pager 'mega-alert' announced a Short-toed Eagle in Devon. And it was heading east. I suggested to my (wholly disinterested) wife that right now Dorset birders would be streaming down to Lyme Regis, or perching on the cliffs of Portland, scanning the skies for this first for the county. Someone must have done so, as it was indeed seen over the sea off Lyme later in the afternoon. A further message suggesting that it had headed back to Exmouth relieved the pain somewhat, but even this turned out to be a dud, torturing me with visions of it cruising along the Dorset coast, whilst I was in land-locked Wiltshire. Small consolation that I have at least seen one - in the Pyrenees in 2006 (see picture).