Soggy...

The rain has been 100% unrelenting today, but I nevertheless went out in it mid-afternoon. At Seaton Marshes a number of hirundines were hunting about 6 inches off the ground. Out in the flooded Juncus, looking really, really hacked off, was this...

 Whinchat Sponge (143)

A single Swift (144) was my first of the year, at a slightly higher altitude than the hirundines - maybe a foot. I hadn't noticed that my phone was on 'silent' mode, and I'd missed two texts reporting a patch mega. It was opposite the Axmouth FC ground, somewhere I was planning to check anyway, but I was very glad of the warning and thus avoided any medical issues.

Egyptian Goose (145) guards access to a Taunton Stop Line Pillbox

There were also 14 Whimbrel in the Egyptian Goose field.

By now the wind was veering round from NE towards SE and the sea therefore beckoned. From 16:45 - 18:05 was quite productive. Best was a Little Tern feeding offshore - and present for the duration - but there was plenty of other interest. Ian M joined me for a while, and as we'd both forgotten notebooks the following tally is mostly approximate...

1 Grey Plover, 1 Little Tern, 4 Whimbrel, 140 Manxies, 1 Bonxie, 80 Kittiwakes, 10 Sandwich Terns, 30 Common Scoter. The only auks we bothered counting were Puffins and Black Guillemots. Well, we would have bothered...

I forgot to mention 3 Barwits on the river, 2 of which were in summer plumage. These were nice, but not yearticks, so fairly pointless.

Win Some, Lose Some

I didn't get time to update yesterday, but if you read other Axe birders' blogs you may have seen this photo, or this one. They were taken at the Beer shelter, and I am noticeably absent from both. That is because I made a duff decision and decided to seawatch from the Axe Yacht Club yesterday morning. The AYC is at sea-level, whereas the Beer Shelter is elevated maybe 50ft. I was nicely sheltered from the strong SSE at the AYC, but the heaving sea meant that passing birds frequently disappeared into troughs. Nevertheless I felt I was doing okay until a call from Phil at 07:26. "Did you get the Poms?" Er...no. Two (or three) Pomarine Skuas had sneaked effortlessly past me, and when Phil mentioned 2 Velvet Scoters and the number of Great and Arctic Skuas tallied from Beer so far, I knew I had made a big mistake. Plus they had the advantage of several pairs of eyes. I stubbornly persevered, and was rewarded with a 'Blue' Fulmar E at 08:49. Don't ask me if it was a 'double-dark' or an 'intermediate' or a 'flat white with chocolate sprinkles' because I don't know - it looked pretty dark to me though. I also had a much bigger Whimbrel count than the Beer squad (169 vs. 79) and a small flock of Arctic Terns (8+) that flew straight out of the bay into the teeth of the wind. Other than that it was all a case of smaller numbers. Even so, the totals were very pleasing...

32 Common Scoter, 169 Whimbrel, 2 Gadwall, 2 'commic' Terns, 1 Bar-tailed Godwit, 23 Bonxies, 52 Kitts, 55 Sandwich Terns, 38 Manxies, 4 diver sp., 13 pale-bellied Brents, 2 Arctic Skuas, 2 Great Northern Divers, 1 'Blue' Fulmar and 8+ Arctic Terns.

Mid-afternoon, and I sensibly joined the masses at Beer in order to nail a Little Tern which had been loitering offshore. Let me tell you, a Little Tern at about a mile is very, very small. When a wind-blown speck of foam changed direction and started fishing I guessed that was probably it and added Little Tern to the year list without a qualm. I also added another 15 Bonxies, 29 Manx, 15 Whimbrel, 24 Sandwich Terns, 25 Kitts and 4 Arctic Skuas.

Another Pom had flown by before I arrived, so that was 4 missed so far.

I should probably talk about skuas briefly. If your patch is Dungeness or the Norfolk coast you might be thinking that our counts are fairly mediocre, so allow me to put things in context. Since I started seawatching here in 2004, I have seen about 65 Great Skuas, with a peak of 11 in a day. Yesterday I had 38!

And so to today...

Another unpleasantly early start at the AYC, but not quite as big a sea in the brisk SW. Totals as follows: 26 Manxies, c.140 Brents (almost all pale-bellied), 5 Sandwich Terns, 48 Common Scoter, 20 Whimbrel, 1 Arctic Skua, 2 Bonxies, 2 Great Northern Divers, 6 Gadwall, 3 Kitts, 2 auk sp. and 2 Common Gulls.

Then I was off to work like a normal person. Late morning, and I'm sheltering in the van from a heavy shower (assisted by a strong coffee and a vast chocolate chip muffin) when my little phone beeps: '4 Poms slowly W past Beer'. Yes, it's Steve, dishing out the pain. I crack, assuming an imminent skua passage of plague proportions, and make for Beer. A good decision for once - 30 minutes after I get there 2 superb pale phase Pom Skuas arc their lazy way eastwards, one of them fully spooned-up. Yesss! Add 14 Manxies, 10 Sandwich Terns, 2 Whimbrel, 1 Barwit, 2 Kitts, 1 Great Northern Diver and a lovely pale phase Arctic Skua, and the curtain comes down on two days of exceptional patch seawatching...

Hot Competition

I have been out a few times since my last post - though briefly - but come home with next to nothing. I think the best was a Grey Plover on the river last Friday. I missed out on the wet Monday seawatch. While the others were anticipating a continuous parade of skuas past the Beer shelter I was hunched over a much needed pre-dawn coffee in Heathrow Airport, anticipating the appearance of my mum and nephew in the Arrivals lobby following their flight from Sydney. While I was not disappointed, I'm glad to report the seawatch was dire, and my year-listing companions were! Tsk! Companions? And I think I've used the word 'colleagues' too. Who am I kidding? The word is competitors! In the friendliest sense of course...

If you were to click on the Bubo box over on the right there, you would see that Phil is on 143, Bun 142, and me 139. I am therefore the underdog, the one for whom everyone traditionally roots. Yep, I'm getting thrashed, and you should probably feel sorry for me. As well as keeping them, Bubo is handy for actually comparing lists, and if you clicked on my 2012 patch list, and then on the little bullseye symbol labelled 'View list (targets)' you would see all the species which Phil and Bun have, but I don't. I've cut and pasted it, thus...

Seq.	Species	Scientific Name	Seen By Other Listers	Other Listers (%)
156	Woodcock	Scolopax rusticola	2	100
163	Common Sandpiper	Actitis hypoleucos	2	100
246	Green Woodpecker	Picus viridis	2	100
268	Tree Pipit	Anthus trivialis	2	100
313	Mistle Thrush	Turdus viscivorus	2	100
324	Reed Warbler	Acrocephalus scirpaceus	2	100
366	Marsh Tit	Poecile palustris	2	100
381	Jay	Garrulus glandarius	2	100
41	Red-breasted Merganser	Mergus serrator	1	50
97	Osprey	Pandion haliaetus	1	50
122	Ringed Plover	Charadrius hiaticula	1	50
208	Black Guillemot	Cepphus grylle	1	50
226	Little Owl	Athene noctua	1	50
396	Lesser Redpoll	Carduelis cabaret	1	50

[I'm not sure why some are in green and the rest in red, but I have no intentions of fiddling with the thousands of lines of HTML to try and force consistency upon it all - despite the urgings of my slightly OCD perfectionist tendencies. Instead I shall put up with being rather irritated every time I look at it.]

As you can see, I might be trailing by a few, but look at all that soft stuff I'm saving till later! Little Owl, Marsh Tit, Mistle Thrush, Reed Warbler etc. Bun has the Black Guillemot of course - a supreme blocker - but nothing else is much of a worry. All to play for still...

Starting tomorrow. The morning is forecast wet and windy, with a promising southerly element to the weather. It seems the Beer shelter has become the venue of choice, but I shall persevere at the Axe Yacht Club again, and if I'm alone will no doubt be able to string a Puffin...maybe even a Little Tern...

The Joy of Seawatching

It was dead this morning. I gave it about 45 minutes from just after 06:00 which, in an offshore NW, was generous. Generous, but not entirely stupid. Why not stupid? Although I did see 3 Great Northern Divers, a handful of Gannets, a single Whimbrel and 4 Manxies - an admittedly slim haul - that's not the reason. It's this: the thing with seawatching is that a grippy little year tick might easily fly past at any moment, in virtually any weather. Like an Eider, say, or a Velvet Scoter.

Perhaps you are thinking "So? Rather than staring at a mostly vacant sea, you could enjoy a nice tramp around the marshes and come across something of similar calibre - Garganey, or Spotted Redshank for example."

Very true, but the point is this - such birds might stay, and let other yearlisters see them too! This is bad. Even a vigorous flushing might not do the trick - it may simply move further away and remain depressingly available.

A seawatching fly-past, however, is a much better proposition. I'll be doing plenty of it this year, even in unpromising conditions. I'll let the others do the hard graft on the marshes and estuary, turning up year ticks which I can later stroll up and bag at leisure. Meanwhile I shall scan the waves - you get your year tick, and the bird keeps going and disappears round Beer Head. Perfect. No-one else gets a sniff of it. You can even allow a non-yearlisting companion to send a prompt and informative text, knowing your blocker is safely tucked away.

Something like 'Sum plum black guillemot west past beer!'

Err......

Oh.

A Firm Grip

After a wet and windy night I was at the Yacht Club by 06:35. The wind had gone round from pretty much straight in to something more WSW, but the sea was rough and it was immediately obvious that Manxies were on the move. Within a short time I'd seen a couple of distant diver sp., a summer-plumaged Black-throated Diver (year-ticking prize) and a Bonxie. About 07:00 I sent a text which just said 'Sea busy'.

A little group of Sandwich Terns came through - 5 of them - and then I glimpsed a small gull with a black W across the wings. I was almost certain it was a Little Gull, but kept losing it in the troughs and couldn't be 100% sure it wasn't a Kittiwake. It quickly melted into the heaving sea and I reluctantly let it go. Ian M then turned up and I told him the sad tale, and how I wished it had been an adult, and how then I would have nailed it...
Very shortly both our phones beeped. A message from Steve: 'Little gull off beer, moving v slowly west'
I was straight on the phone: "A first-year? It was? Excellent! With Sandwich Terns you say? That's right! Were there five? Yessss! I'm having it!"
I ignored the jibes about how you're supposed to identify your own birds and added Little Gull to my year list. Anything you might be thinking about my standards is probably true.

The seawatch progressed nicely for the next half hour, Ian and I enjoying a couple of Bonxies, two superb Arctic Skuas and various other delights. We were all happy and glowing and satisfied. It was great...
Both our phones beeped again. Another message from Steve. Ian said: "Save me getting my reading glasses out - you check the message and I'll keep scanning." Seemed a good idea, so I opened the message. Huh? What did that say? I thought I must have misread it, so turned my bins upside down and double-checked...
'Sum plum black guillemot west past beer!'
Pox!
I relayed the content to Ian. It's not a nice feeling when you realise a good bird has just flown past without you seeing it. And when it's the quality of a Devon Black Guillemot, and you're year-listing, and one of your competitors is at Beer with Steve, leaping up and down with a gargantuan blocker freshly tucked away, well.... it does take the shine off things a little. I looked around for a bus shelter to kick in...

We all packed up shortly after 09:00, and this is my tally - 234 Manxies, 91 Gannets, 3 diver sp., 1 BTD, 1 GND, 1 RTD, 4 Bonxies, 12 Sandwich Terns, 2 Guillemots, 1 Razorbill, 3 auk sp., 1 Little Gull, 2 Arctic Skuas and 10 Whimbrel.

BTD, Little Gull and Arctic Skua were year ticks. (139)

I ventured out again this evening. At Colyford Common were a couple of Wheatears...

...but to be honest I was itching to look at the sea again, so left Phil and Tim to it and headed for the Yacht Club once more. The wind had gone right round to NW (ie. pretty much a waste of time) but I persevered anyway, and in 45 minutes from 18:20 counted 150 Manxies and 10 Gannets, all west. Not bad, and a bit of extra juice was provided by a flock of 17 waders which flew high east - either Whimbrel or Bar-tailed Godwits, but I couldn't narrow it any more than that.

What to do first thing tomorrow? Oh, I don't know...

Not Good Enough

A windy morning meant seawatching. I gave it from 07:00-08:00 and had quite a nice selection of stuff. Best was a bit of pale-bellied Brent passage - 3 flocks of c35, 22 and 7. A flock of 100+ came through later, but by then I was off twitching a Grasshopper Warbler which Steve found at Black Hole Marsh, so missed that spectacle. Other seawatch highlights included 2 Great Northern Divers, 1 Bonxie, 4 Sandwich Terns, 8 Manxies, 6 Common Scoter and a 1st-summer Med Gull. The Gropper was kind enought to show itself to me, only about the third I've actually seen on patch. Also at BHM were loads of Willow Warblers and a smart Common Tern...

I should mention that I saw my first House Martin yesterday, so along with Grasshopper Warbler and Common Tern I'm now on 136 for the year.

It was very showery today, but despite the wet interludes I persevered and got some work done. Even so, I managed a little look at estuary dwellers as I kerb-crawled down the riverside between jobs. I spied a Cormorant drying itself out at the tram sheds and couldn't help thinking it looked a bit lightweight. A sinensis, perhaps? It made me get the scope out and attempt to gauge gular pouch angles. Here it is...

My initial thoughts were positive, cautiously optimistic ones, and I punted out a text with the word 'probable' in it. Ian M came and had a look too. In retrospect, the word 'possible' was the one I needed, because the gular pouch angle was clearly less than 90°. Not much less, but enough to preclude legitimate use of 'probable'. Anyway, here it is from the other side, without the glaring sunshine...

Also, it gradually started to look less diminutive than I first thought, and I think being so close to the sea makes sinensis less of a possibility anyway, as they apparently prefer fresh water. I wondered if it might be instructive to make a collage, comparing it with the much nicer sinensis candidate which I saw on the river Exe a few weeks ago...

According to my reference (Continents Apart by Mike Langman - Devon Birds Volume 58 number 1, pp 14-20) the overlap zone for carbo/sinensis is about 66-72°, but only birds with >80° are likely to be worth submitting to the DBRC. This one looks a touch less than 80° to me. Structurally it's not all that pleasing either... So it's history. Interesting though...

...in a stamp-collecty, periodic table, advanced calculus kind of way

Ten Rare Men

I wonder what it's like to be on the BBRC? As far as I know there's no pay, so the only rewards will presumably be the immense kudos, and the righteous satisfaction that no doubt comes from dutiful service. Yeah, right! No, seriously, imagine the invitation letter...


Dear Gavin

We have been highly impressed by your handful of detailed and successful rarity submissions 15+ years ago, and your evident identification prowess with at least one gull species. In addition it is obvious that you are widely travelled in the Western Palearctic, having visited both Rainham and Cley within the last few months. This breadth of skill and experience would be a real asset to the BBRC and we wish to put you forward as our nominated candidate for the next vacancy on the committee.

Yours sincerely,

Nigella Hudwit (Hon Sec)


Such a thrill! Your little chest would swell with pride, wouldn't it? The ballot goes ahead and, because it's between you and some other bloke none of the county recorders and observatory wardens have ever heard of, the voting is close. However, slightly more of the tossed coins land in your favour, and you're in!

All goes well, and the first batch of descriptions contains a host of well-photographed, easy-peasy rarities. No probs. What with all your mates basking in the reflected glory [Yeah, yeah, that's right, Gav's on the BBRC now. Yeah, 'course I know him, we're mates, often go birding with him...] you are now an ID guru and life is rather grand. Then one day you open up a batch of descriptions and notice the heading - 'Reviews'. Scanning down the list your heart sinks when you spot Elegant Tern. This is bad enough, but just below it is Slender-billed Curlew. You pop down Tesco's to see what single malts are on offer...

You burn much midnight oil in your researches, and quickly realise that (a) you are totally out of your depth, and (b) there is no unequivocally correct conclusion to any of these foul conundrums. You reach for a coin, and flip it...

All your so-called mates suddenly start hearing rumours, picking up fag-ends from BirdForum and suchlike scandal-mongers. Then they start asking you questions. Awkward ones. You duck and weave, but there's no getting round it - they've lost faith! No longer the ID guru, in their eyes you have suddenly morphed into a fallible human being who deludely believes he has the right to adjudicate on other people's birds. [Yeah, yeah, that's right. Hear what they've said about the SBC? I asked Haig about it. Jumped-up twerp wouldn't say, told me there's gonna be an article in BB. Yeah, right, in about 5 years! Who does he think he is?]

Ah, the fickle birding masses.



This afternoon I walked along the beach to Culverhole. I saw 3 Rock Pipits, a Stonechat and a Sparrowhawk. Yep, that good. I took a couple of scenic snaps. Which is better?

With sun...?

...or without?

Much Tickery

Ixodes ricinus is the Latin name of the little horror that was buried in my leg yesterday. Common name - Sheep Tick. Thanks to the link which Andrew provided in his comment to the previous post I was able to compare photos, and am happy to add Sheep Tick to my pan-species list. So, yesterday I had a tick tick. If you actually say 'tick tick' out loud, it sounds like a phonic tic. That is, a 'tick tick' tic. In fact...

In fact, that's enough. Imagine what I was like when I was a kid!

Another day for a crack-of-dawn visit to the marshes. Another day the Abbotsbury Black-winged Stilt decides to stay where it is. Apart from year-ticking Sedge Warbler (132) there is nothing to report. Oh, except an amusing senior moment. After tramping round every bit of water from Black Hole Marsh to Colyford Common and back, I climbed into the BHM Tower Hide. I was surprised to see someone already in there, and glanced over when he greeted me with a cheery "Alright?" Not recognising him, I mumbled "Morning", turned my back and opened a slot. If I'd been wearing a flashing neon sign that said 'Mister Unsociable' the message could not have been clearer.
"Seen much?" he asked.
The voice seemed vaguely familiar, so I turned and had another look, making a proper effort to focus this time. It was Phil.
That's it, Specsavers very soon...

Phil headed off to Beer Head, and I tried Axe Cliff, hoping for a juicy Short-eared Owl grip-off. One Wheatear and no owl, but this was pretty cool...

It was still quite early, and therefore chilly, which I imagine is why this Adder allowed me to creep so close with the camera. Amazing creature.

Just after midday I had a text from Bun - Pied Fly, Beer Cemetery Fields. I could do nothing about it for at least four hours. This was a bit annoying, and I could visualise the other year listers chortling at my unfortunate absence, clapping loudly, waving their arms and making shoo-ing noises. To no avail - it was still there at 5 pm. It took some nailing though, and after 45 minutes of no-show I really thought it must have gone. But it hadn't, and here's the proof...

Little cracker! (133)

I like Pied Flycatchers. Part of that is their scarcity, but they're pretty cute as well. There were also several Willow Warblers and a superb male Redstart, no doubt one of the three that Bun had earlier. The spring trickle is turning into a proper flow now, with several Swallows in evidence over the estuary in the early evening. I even had one flying in low across the sea - my first proper 'in-off' migrant this year. The first of many...

Lowering the Tone

Well, it's two dips in two days now. Yesterday morning it was the Sanderling which Steve had flying up the river; this evening it was a Short-eared Owl on Axe Cliff. I actuallly ran for it, because the light was going fast and I had horrible visions of Phil and Bun (who had arrived ten minutes earlier) gripping me off. As I jogged along the path out to the clifftop I was conscious of some conflicting thoughts. First, I was happy that I can still run, but also not happy about the obvious up-and-down movement beneath the front of my tee-shirt, the rasping fire in my lungs and the frantic hammering in my chest. Time to get the bike out I think...

Unfortunately, that late evening jog was my only birding today. I still have some interesting photos to share.though, just not birds.

Here's a nice one - part of my right calf muscle. Believe me, a tricky angle to photograph...

Notice the slightly reddish area, and the little blemish in the centre of it?

Here's a close-up...

Have I got enough for a specific identification? Can I put a...er...tick on my pan species list?.

Needless to say, I was straight onto the computer and googling 'Lyme Disease'. Not nice. Sandra suggested I google 'Hypochondriac' too. Forewarned is forearmed I say.

I've just reviewed this post so far and can't help thinking that I'm taking the blog to new lows, what with close-ups of my hairy leg and a parasite sucking my blood. So, while we're down in the gutter, here's a video of two Seaton thugs fighting...

Buttons Oriented Activity

We are being teased by a Black-winged Stilt. Initially at Chew Valley Lake for a day, what was presumably the same bird then relocated to Radipole Lake in Weymouth, missing Black Hole Marsh by a mere 30-something miles. Today it was at Abbotsbury, about 6 or 7 miles closer! Presumably its been told about us, and our need of patch ticks? Presumably it knows that heading further west will leave it no choice but to give a Seaton birder a small heart attack? Because there is nothing between Abbotsbury and the Axe valley except fields. If it overshoots the Axe and winds up at the boringly predictable Bowling Green Marsh I will scream, and it will fully deserve a well-aimed volley of shot the next time it flies over Malta.

Actually, reading that last sentence back I wonder if it might come across a bit harsh and insensitive? If you think it does, then I was joking...

So, I have got in quick with a Buttons List adjustment. It might seem wrong to want to win my own competition, or even to have entered it at all, but I seem to recall Steve saying he would buy the Buttons if I won, so I didn't really have a choice did I? And just to prove to fellow Buttons challengers that I'm not just a heartlessly competitive animal, can I remind you that the autumn type birds on your lists are not going to turn up until...er...autumn, so a bit of seasonally based list tweaking might be in order. If you snooze, you looze...

A couple of other quick things. This morning I went to Black Hole Marsh with gangly waders on my mind, and missed a Sanderling which Steve saw flying up the river. Sanderling is a valuable bird to get on a Seaton year list - never easy. In the end I saw absolutely nothing of particular note. So, all-in-all, a bit of a bummer!

Never mind though, because last night I watched a Hedgehog fight. I was out all evening, and arrived back to find a couple of Hedghogs in the front garden. A pretty rare sight here, so I took a couple of photos and thought no more of it. However, a bit later we could hear a load of noise, and went outside to investigate. They were scrapping. If I get time tomorrow I will post a bit of video, but in the meantime here's a snap of the protagonists...

A Nice Place to Live

The Caspian Gull is still here. Steve alerted me to its presence at Coronation Corner this afternoon, so I naturally had to go and look, and take pictures...

I headed over to the Tower Hide to check out the gulls further upstream. Nothing of interest, but the Casp was much closer, and heading my way. It was very aggressive today, having a go at virtually any other gull that came close enough, and I wondered if it might do what is known as the 'long call' - a drawn out affair with extended neck and (unique to Caspian Gull) open wings. I've never seen a Casp do this, but the bird was so animated that it looked a distinct possibility. I was about to dig out the Lumix and set it to 'video' mode just in case, when the Casp flew several yards downstream to an innocent group of Herring Gulls and got stuck right into them, promptly performing a full-blooded long call, complete with diagnostic open-winged stance! By the time the camera was ready it had got into the water, its aggression spent, and over the next few minutes I watched it gradually drift away downstream and out of view...

The Casp photo was taken in a cloudy interlude, but mostly it's been very sunny between the showers, and an early morning visit to Beer Head was absolutely glorious once the sun rose. There were even migrants - 20 Willow Warblers, 10 Chiffs, 6 Wheatears and 2 lovely Redstarts, a male and female. I've been anxious to add to my collection of Wheatear pics, but spring birds so rarely behave well enough. However, this morning I saw an opportunity when I came across a smart male near the clifftop fence. I reckoned I could sneak round and approach it from behind a rise in the ground. I got on my belly and wriggled forward...

This was the reaction when my head appeared over the ridge. I stayed very still. Would it fly...or not?

Not.

The Wheatear eventually hopped away along the path, and I stood up. It was 7:30 am, and here is the view which faced me. I hope I never, ever take this for granted. The only sounds were the waves breaking on the shingle below, assorted bird noises, and the faint putt-putt of the Branscombe fishing boat - just about visible as a pale dot, roughly half way between the top of the chalk stack and the left hand edge of the photo.

Looks good as a desktop...

Words of Wisdom?

I have just been asked to write a short autobiographical blurb for inclusion in a forthcoming Devon Birding web page. It was supposed to be a 100-150 word summary of my birding life and achievements. Because I cannot write a sentence without including a heap of superfluous words I had to use 167.

I must admit, it made me think. How did I want to describe myself? What would you say? What should I include, and what should I leave out? Despite an open invitation to blow my own trumpet and not be shy about it, I couldn't help thinking that I would also like to use the opportunity for something else...

Let me ask you a question...

If you could pass on just one pearl of birding wisdom, what would it be?

I've thought about this one quite a lot over the years, and here - for what it's worth - is mine...

Unless you plan to spend your birding life in a vaccuum, aim to build a reputation for integrity.

That's all. I could have wittered on about 'whatever kind of birding you do, make sure you enjoy it' and similar trite nonsense - which is all fair enough, if a bit shallow - but birding is a hobby rarely undertaken in total isolation, and if one plans to interact with other birders on a regular basis I guarantee this little tip will not go amiss.

In 30+ years birding I've come across many individuals who have ignored this maxim. For example, there is the stringer. You cannot trust his sightings. Often it is simply over-enthusiasm, and a poorly seen bird quickly becomes the rare one he'd like it to be, rather than the big question mark it should have remained. Why doesn't he learn? Search me, but if he were to regularly ask himself whether he thought he was building a reputation for integrity, the penny might drop eventually. Occasionally it's downright lies - rare, but I've met a few. Sometimes a misidentification is uncovered, but our hero lacks the humility required to put his hand up to the error, and invokes the 'two-bird theory' instead. I could go on...and on...but the point is this - all such folk find themselves being held at arm's length by their birding peers because they cannot be trusted. Which is a shame. And unnecessary.

So anyway, yes, I managed to wangle this pearl into my mini-biog, which incidentally had to be written in the third person, ie. 'Gavin is a highly skilled birder of vast knowledge and experience...' rather than 'I am a highly skilled birder of vast knowledge and experience...' which would of course sound conceited.

One Hundred and Thirty One

I expect most readers will be familiar with the BirdGuides 'BirdMap', a handy facility that tells you what's been seen, and where. You can subscribe for a modest fee, or have access to the map only (with limited functionality) for free, simply by registering. I usually reckon that a quick perusal in the evening will give you a rough idea what kind of birding day it's been around the country, just from the number, size, and distribution of the boxes. The way it works is basically one box = one species report, and grey = new bird, white = present for at least its 2nd day. The bigger the box, the rarer the bird. So in the autumn it's not uncommon to see the whole east coast completely obliterated by medium/large/enormous boxes, Scilly invisible beneath a couple of whoppers, and Devon blank...

Anyway, a quick look at the BirdMap earlier this evening told a sorry tale - either it's been dire, or only about 6 birders have been outdoors all day. Look, here's today's map (on the left) compared with Saturday's...

 Ok, it filled up a little bit more later on, but it's still pretty rubbish for a bank holiday Monday

I guess it was the weather. We had wind and rain all day here, and no decent spring scarcity is going to be daft enough to overshoot into a wet gale when it could be settling down in the balmy French countryside instead. Birders know this, and sensible ones stay indoors and accrue Brownie Points. The others go seawatching.

I've been gagging for a decent seawatch for months, and today was going to be it. I was down the yacht club nice and early, while Phil and Ian M were stationed at the Beer shelter. I packed in at 09:30, with totals of 115 Manxies, 7 Common Scoter, 18 Common Gulls, 3 Kitts, 3 Razorbills, 4 Guillemots, 10 Sandwich Terns, a Great Northern Diver, a flock of 18 dark-bellied Brents and a Bonxie. Not exactly fast and furious, but not bad, and Manx Shearwater and Bonxie were both year ticks - 131.

A quick tour of the river and marshes at lunchtime netted the Caspian Gull briefly on Seaton Marshes, but nothing else. Then it was out for a final effort in the rain from 16:40 - 18:20 at Seaton Hole. I sat on a rock beneath a brolly and peered at the sea again. 512 Manxies, 20+ Sandwich Terns and 5 Kitts. The shearwaters were much closer than this morning, and the spectacle of actual passage on a Seaton seawatch was a real joy!

It's Not Too Late...

...for gulls! No, definitely not, as I'm about to prove. However, less obsessed birders might well argue that it's a bit pathetic to be going through gulls in April, when you should be out finding proper migrants. This is true, but I can't help it. Pity me.

In the previous post I forgot to mention a really smart Lesser Black-backed Gull I spotted on one of the Black Hole Marsh islands while strolling to the Tower Hide. It was an absolutely immaculate adult, comfortably black enough for intermedius, and pretty close. I set the scope up, reached for the camera...and away it flew. I must confess I was surprised to see one of these in April, and when I look through the big gulls currently I guess my hope is for a white-winger - realistically an Iceland Gull, but with an outside chance of a Glaucous maybe. So when I scanned through the Coronation Corner gathering late this afternoon I certainly wasn't expecting this...

 Is that what I think it is sir, bang in the middle there?

Why, yes it is Simpkins. Jolly good shout! A 1st-winter Caspian Gull, by jingo!

I have a confession to make: I am not very good with names and faces. I may have met someone several times, but in a chance encounter - especially if out of context - will completely fail to recognise them. This can be highly embarrassing. When faced with a "Hey Gav! How's it going?" from an apparent total stranger, it's a bit unsettling. Needless to say, I have learned to bluster artfully...

Why do I mention this? Because I have to admit that when I clapped eyes on this Caspian Gull I recognised it instantly - it's the same bird that was here back in late February/early March, and last seen (by me anyway) on 10 March. So I'm better at recognising individual gulls than people. Sad, eh? I'm sure that says a great deal about me, and none of it very good.

Its appearance coincided with Phil arriving at the Tower Hide, so he was able to get on it from there and point the rest of the bulging hide-full in the right direction. Ian M joined me at Coronation Corner, and for ages I fought the urge to head over to the Tower Hide for closer views. Eventually my dislike of crowded sheds was trounced by gull lust. It was certainly a lot closer...

After filling our boots, Phil and I spent the rest of the evening wandering up to Colyford Common and back. We saw absolutely nothing of note. Is it just us, or has there so far been a rather slim hirundine passage? I've seen 3 individual Swallows this year, Phil likewise. Not many Sand Martins and no House Martins at all yet.

Anyway, the lack of birdy thrills mattered not a bit, because Phil cheered me up with tales of how he and Bun spent 7 hours standing next to a couple of Lincolnshire fields yesterday, hearing how the Thayer's Gull showed brilliantly the day before. Apparently this wasn't quite as grim an experience as several hours standing next to the Rainham landfill in a freezing wind, sifting a million seething gulls and enduring a hundred stringy shouts...without seeing Slaty-backed Gull...

I went home smiling and content. Nothing is quite so heart-warming as an excellent dipping story, so TWO is even better...

Humbled

Birding stuff first. A mid-afternoon visit to the Beer Cemetery fields was pretty...er...dead, with 3 Blackcaps and a couple of Chiffs the sum total of migrant-type activity. Out again for the last hour of light, to a nicely deserted Black Hole Marsh. It was very tranquil indeed. Quite a lot of bird life, but the only bit of 'quality' was a summer-plumaged Greenshank, which was loafing among Redshank on an island in front of the Tower Hide. That's 129 then. I'd forgotten how striking a well-marked spring Greenshank actually is, though at this range, and with ISO 800 on my little digiscoping camera, you are to be excused for not noticing...

In the past I have been known to point and laugh at folk who think they 'create images' rather than take photos. All rather pretentious, I thought. Mostly I still do, but I've now learned that there are definitely exceptions...

I like to poke around the links of fellow bloggers, and often come across something that really appeals. Just recently I clicked on one of Jono Lethbridge's links and discovered something very humbling. Now Jonathan clearly has some decent photographic gear and takes a mean photo, but Arthur Morris creates images. That's what he claims, and I believe him. To give your blog the immodest title 'Birds as Art' is just begging for mockery from the likes of me, but I am uncharacteristically silent on this occasion! I spent some time on Arthur's blog and came away rather glad that I'm generally skint enough not to be troubled by camera lust and will never own umpteen grand's worth of precision glass...because half an hour on Birds as Art would have me sticking the lot on eBay. I suddenly realised how little I know about 'painting with light'. And to think that in this blog's previous life I had the temerity to spend a few posts offering photographic advice to fellow superzoom owners...

Hey, perhaps I'm doing myself an injustice? At least I'm off the 'auto' setting!

Snappery Fail

There shouldn't have been time for birding today. However, a birding interlude was forced upon me by a text from Steve which had the magic word 'Redstart' in it. Showing well at the Seaton Marshes Borrow Pit, it was a glorious male. A spring male Redstart in passage habbo is what birding is all about for me, and very hard to beat. It was accompanied by about 6 Willow Warblers, so there were clearly some new arrivals trickling through on this grey and chilly day.

Although not very close, the Redstart sat on a fence post a few times, which should have meant I have a few nice photos to show you. Unfortunately the camera chose to focus on the fence post behind the bird, so it is slghtly blurry in every shot. Had I noticed at the time I think I could have rectified things. But no, I noticed it later, on the computer screen. There were still a few options open to me though, so I tried three of them...but groaning, stamping and a maple pecan twist didn't get me a sharp image.

Have this one instead...

A Painful Realisation...

To Beer Head first thing, but half an hour was enough to tell me I was wasting my time - not a single migrant. A scan from the seafront then? No better - apart from a couple of Cormorants, not a single floating thing. Finished off with a quick look at the estuary. A lot better, with a massive 68 Black-tailed Godwits (easily a record count for me, and I've not heard of any bigger) and a Whimbrel, my first of the year and therefore also a number - 127.

At lunch time I made a flying visit to the Tower Hide, where there were lots of big gulls to pick through. Nothing of interest though. A few small gulls too, and one was a nice 1st-summer Med.

I've been thinking recently about how we all choose to spend our birding time. Today - for me - it was perhaps 2 hours or so, spent sorting through our local birdies, with the rewards being a big Axe Blackwit count, a year-tick and a nice gull. Nothing special, but pleasing all the same. Alternatively I might have spent that time trotting off to Teignmouth Golf Course to try for the Hoopoe, or to Budleigh for the Purple Heron. Of course, I might have dipped, but one Devon blogger's recent account of seeing both these birds, plus the Exminster Crane on the same day, demonstrates the rewards to be had from this kind of birding too. Hmm...'birding'? Well, twitching actually. If you hear about a bird, and go for it, that's twitching.

Many, many times I've pontificated about the evils of pager slavery, and how I almost never twitch. So, Sunday night - out of the house like a shot for our Crane. A twitch, surely? Monday morning I went for a second look, which I guess might qualify too. Monday evening I tried for the 3 LRPs, but dipped. And you cannot dip without having twitched... [Don't take that sentence anywhere else.]

Patch birders can sometimes be highly critical of twitchers, and think that they are above twitching. I am and I do. That's because I'm a hypocrite. Because I, and probably 99% of birders who work a patch that is covered by others, actually do a lot of twitching!

Morning Glory

Today I finished work at about 6:15pm. I reckon this is probably the latest in over nine years, and took me back to the days when a 6:30pm shift finish was obligatory. Or 6:30 am. Oh how I miss those happy times of rigid structure, when I wasn't able to give in to every seductive birding urge. Such freedom is not good for a person...

Mind you, it is dead handy. Especially when a Crane has roosted overnight on your patch and you want to go see it in the morning. It was really cold first thing, so I didn't rush to look for the Crane. Instead I counted Black-tailed Godwits on the estuary. I was just congratulating myself on a personal record tally of 60 (without having to include any Barwits or Redshank to bump it up) when a passing car slowed down and Steve's dad Ian leaned over to tell me that the Crane was showing. Sure enough, it was on view from the roadside at Stedcombe Vale. There are lots of pics on Steve's blog, so just a couple from me...

As you can see - very, very chilly. I was glad of the excuse to not bother any of my customers until a more civilised hour. According to a map and a ruler, the Crane was about 450+ metres away. This makes for perfectly decent scope views, but not such brilliant photos. When the sun caught them just right you could make out a little red blob on each side of the crown, but they're very hard to see in the pics. Although visible in the top photo when seriously enlarged, I don't reckon it'll show at this resolution. Never mind, here's some compensation. The time is 07:51 and our drive-by specialist James is captured for posterity actually on the patch...

Blocker Down!

Well, it lasted for more than 7 years, but the classy blocker which Phil and I shared has finally fallen. Bun spotted a Crane flying over the town late this evening, Phil got it from his house, and then it took a liking to Colyford Marsh and made itself available to [almost] everyone. I rushed out and spied it from the main road at Bridge Marsh. Considering the range, the gloom, and how my feeble eyes couldn't see diddly on the digiscoping camera, this photo is nothing short of miraculous...

Mind you, if you opened it you might not agree. Anyway, I could see a little crowd round at the Farm Gate viewpoint, so drove over to be sociable. Ian M commented that it was nice to get Crane on the patch before the Somerset introduction scheme birds get too nomadic. Indeed. Thankfully this bird was unringed, and coincided with another which turned up at Exminster Marshes this evening, but if and when the plastic Cranes start wandering they will be a right nuisance. This probably sounds a bit 'Bah! Humbug!' but I know I'm not alone in resenting how introduced birds can totally devalue a species from a birding perspective. This may seem irrational after my excitement at yesterday's Red Kite (after all, who can say where that originated?) but there it is. Perhaps it needs a few decades and a measure of abundance before what was once depressing plastic becomes as thrilling as it actually should be? Bustards anyone? Exactly...

Ian and I were the last to leave - at about 20:15 - by which time the Crane was on the river adjacent to Black Hole Marsh, striding elegantly around the low tide mud. A very nice way to clock up 126.