I've had some rather good birding trips away from Oxfordshire over the last few weeks, which I'll aim to summarise in this combined set of trip reports. I've also had a totally unsuccessful weekend in Cornwall failing to see any large shearwaters (perhaps some sort of record for longest time spent staring at the Cornish sea without any reward), so will gloss over that - although did see the Scillies for the first time.
St Mary's Harbour from a day trip on the Scillonian
The Suffolk double of Black Stork and breeding Zitting Cisticola (both seemingly settled and easy to twitch) was too enticing to pass up, so I decided to head down for a day trip with James Hammond on 23rd August. Due to some poor planning we only arrived in Suffolk at 3pm, and by this time our first target, the juvenile Black Stork, was nowhere to be seen. We found a loose group of people milling around on top of the dyke looking at nothing in particular - always a bad sign at a twitch. Luckily, after about half an hour I picked up the bird flying in high from the west. Pterodactyl-like in flight, it then proceeded to land right in front of us and began feeding along that famous ditch, the subject of so many tepid social media posts recently. I tried to motivate myself to take a few photos.
As I was watching the Black Stork, I heard an unfamiliar yet strangely familiar call ring out overhead. I looked up and saw two distant waders circling behind the dyke. It took a few seconds for my brain to connect the call with these birds and I realised that it was two Dotterels, having clearly just flown in-off. I panicked slightly trying to get a photo - the birds were specks, but luckily they dived low over the fields, perhaps looking for a place to settle, and I managed to get a few shots before they disappeared inland. I wandered over to some of the assembled twitchers further down the path and sheepishly enquired as to whether they had seen the two Dotterels fly straight over their heads. "Oh, really?" They hadn't, and didn't seem to care much either!
From the photos, at least one of the birds is an adult, evidenced by the traces of red on the underside and active primary moult. I was especially pleased to have picked up the calls on my sound recorder, as I wasn't sure that they would be loud enough. There is the typical flight call (like a short, buzzy Redshank or Golden Plover) but also a series of Oystercatcher-like contact calls interspersed between these, which I haven't heard before. Overall a great experience.
It was already getting dark as we headed to Walberswick but thankfully there was enough light left to connect with one of the Zitting Cisticolas. Initially heard-only, it then perched up on the reeds for 30 seconds, offering some decent scope views. A near-adult Caspian Gull was also sitting on the beach.
All target birds acquired and back in Oxford before midnight. This trip has convinced me that twitching is acceptable so long as I find some good birds along the way!
I timed my autumn Portland stay for the second week of September this year to coincide with some decent passerine passage for ringing. Last year I was there at the end of August, where numbers can be high but potential for scarcities a bit lower. In any case, a run of easterlies the week before gave me some hope, and I booked in for 6th to 13th September.
Day one kicked off with a Wryneck trapped at Culverwell - although I've seen them in the hand before, this was the first that I have ringed, and I felt quite privileged to do so.
Ringing the Wryneck with Mark Cutts and Roger Booth
Despite the promising weather, the quantity of birds in the nets was disappointing, as was the quality of overhead passage. This mid-morning lull was shattered by a call from Martin saying that he was "99.5%" sure" that he had just flushed a Booted Warbler in the Crown Estate Field! Utter panic in the Obs as everyone raced down the drive, finding Martin standing near a net running through some low crop. Apparently the bird had flown from these crops into the hedge bordering the field, and therefore should still be possible to flush towards the nets. However, the next twenty minutes of slow walking around the field by the assembled ringers failed to pin it down, and I wondered if it had managed to sneak along the hedge away towards the Top Fields.
Suddenly a shout from Martin alerted us to the bird flying from the hedge back into the crops, and everyone surrounded it. I had my first subliminal views of it in flight, and having previously seen neither Booted nor Sykes's Warbler, I was struck by how pale and obviously different it looked - slightly larger than a Phylloscopus, and perhaps slightly lumbering, but it was the colour that really stood out. Unfortunately this brief view ended with the bird flying not into the net, but straight over it towards the pond! After another ten minutes of it evading the nets, but thankfully staying in the area, a monofilament mist net was erected in the crop ride. Being much less visible than regular mist nets, this was successful in capturing the bird. A fantastic moment when Martin lifted it out of the net - finally my Portland visits coincide with the discovery of a proper rarity! If I had been in a blogging mindset, I might have thought to take some photos of the scene, so some photos in the hand will have to suffice.
Grahame Walbridge pointing out some features on the Booted Warbler
Although no calls were heard, Sykes's Warbler, I think, was eliminated on the basis of a combination of biometrics, and the bird was left unaged due to an odd state of wear/moult. See the Portland blog for a more in-depth analysis (here).
A check of Church Ope Cove and Coombefield later produced a single Pied Flycatcher and two Spotted Flycatchers although very few warblers.
Day two proceeded in much the same way as day one, but without any scarcities materialising. I therefore decided to leave the garden mist nets to Roger on day three, and headed down to the Bill to check the thousands-strong gull flock that had been building up on the sea off of the West Cliffs throughout the morning. Some of these were settled quite close off of the eastern side of the Bill and amongst them was a juvenile Yellow-legged Gull.
On the western side of Pulpit Rock a few gulls were flying in and I was rewarded with the sight of a fantastic male Caspian Gull in the melee - the size of Great Black-backed Gull and carrying a stick in its beak, as they so often do. Amazingly it flew closer and closer until it was right over my head.
With a bit of editing one of the last photos in the sequence has turned into my favourite-ever image of Caspian Gull - with the white head appearing from behind the clean brown wing almost like a shawl. Plus it shows their curious tendency to carry around objects and defend these from other gulls!
It is a running joke that I cannot go to Portland without finding a Caspian Gull, which is usually a scarce bird in Dorset. Therefore having achieved my mission for this trip, I headed back to the Obs for lunch. However, it seems this was only the start of the day's strange cachinnans "event": Mark texted me a picture of another individual in the fields at Culverwell, whilst Jodie found a third whilst twitching it. I hadn't managed to see a juvenile Caspian Gull in Oxfordshire yet this autumn, so was pretty pleased with this nice little run of birds.
As the wind picked up and a belt of rain rolled in I had a short seawatch from the Obs and got lucky with a brief juvenile Sabine's Gull,which unfortunately no one else saw as it disappeared in and out of massive wave troughs. A single Bar-tailed Godwit also flew south, which was corroborated by a flock of 13 at Ferrybridge. A final check of Culverwell in the evening failed to produce any more gulls but I was treated to the incredible sight of a migrating flock of Grey Herons heading southeast - 14 at first, which were joined by another five over the sea.
All carefully checked for Purple Herons!
On day four I decided to try and capitalise on this potential Caspian Gull influx with a thorough search of the East Cliff fields before heading to Ferrybridge. I was pleased to find another pristine juvenile showing at close range next to Culverwell, and a further two on the lagoon a Ferrybridge (one of which was another brutish male and could have invited confusion with Yellow-legged Gull). All of these were different birds to the three seen yesterday!
Bird 2
Bird 3
Bird 3
Bird 4 - again carrying a fidget toy around!
A surprising number of gulls were coming and going from the lagoon that evening including a few Yellow-legged Gulls, and amongst the waders were the two Little Stints and a fresh Curlew Sandpiper.
Also had the fantastic experience of watching some Tuna leaping on a seawatch, which I managed to capture on video.
With strong winds overnight, day five started with the news of a juvenile Sabine's Gull wrecked in Chesil Cove. As with many birds on stormy days in the Cove, it was a struggle to locate at first, but then showed beautifully, flying back and forth along the surf.
I saw another Caspian Gull distantly on a morning seawatch from the Obs, along with the usual Balearic Shearwaters and Arctic Skuas.
Caspian Gull - not sure whether this is one of the previously-seen individuals
Balearic Shearwater
Pale-phase Arctic Skua
The rest of the day was a bit of a non-event in the wind, but I did my evening check of the East Cliffs gull flocks and found another three juvenile Caspian Gulls - extraordinary stuff for Portland!
Bird 5
Bird 6
Bird 7
Bird 7
Bird 7
On day six I went back to Chesil to see if the Sabine's was still present - it wasn't, but I was pleased to pick up a distant Grey Phalarope bobbing between huge waves some distance out in the bay. Apparently found independently by others that morning, it showed rather better after I left. My views were limited to just bins and without the 2x extender on my camera, so the photos are shocking. Still, pleased to add this species to the self-found list.
Spot the Phalarope!
Two Firecrests at Pennsylvania Castle were the first of the autumn for me and on the way back to the Obs I chanced upon a couple of birders watching a new Dutch-ringed Caspian Gull (Darvic code A:9) in the fields at Culverwell - very nice. A final evening check of Ferrybridge revealed three more juvenile Caspian Gulls including a fantastic advanced individual with loads of moulting coverts (bird 9) and a second Dutch-ringed bird, which was a bit more difficult to be sure of the identification at first as it was so dark, especially on the underwing.
Bird 8
Bird 8
Bird 9
Bird 10 - Dutch-ringed
Bird 10 - note dark underwing
Bird 10
The Little Stints were still present and an Arctic Tern flew through at dusk.
The wind finally dropped on day seven, and I had a pleasant walk around the Top Fields and Slopes in the first properly bird-able conditions for several days. Overhead passage was evident, and I counted approximately 190 Meadow Pipits, and handful of Tree Pipits (hard to count as a couple were obviously grounded and flying around), 13 Grey Wagtails (a real feature of autumn vismigging at Portland) and a few oddities - Marsh Harrier over the Crown Estate Fields, heard-only Ringed Plover and high-flying Bar-tailed Godwit over the land.
Standard flight views of Tree Pipit
Late morning a band of heavy rain set in and further attempts to find Caspian Gulls were scuppered, so I headed home. A really good mix of birds this trip and so lucky to jam in on the Booted Warbler being found. In addition to the ten individual Caspian Gulls which I documented, there were also at least three more found whilst I was there and a couple more afterwards, which is an exceptional number. Having been branded "Ein Autistischenverstandfurcacchinnans" by Martin on the Portland blog, I was tempted to respond with a satirical piece about the curious association between Caspian Gull records and my presence at the Obs. However, it does seem that my trip this year genuinely did coincide with some sort of Caspian Gull influx to the southwest, with Steve Waite on the Axe in Devon and Steve Lavington at Keyhaven in Hampshire both reporting multiple individuals at locations where they're still a decent bird to find. In contrast, numbers have been low in Oxfordshire and other inland sites this autumn - presumably something to do with the recent weather conditions has pushed loads of gulls down the Channel.
You may have noticed that some of the photography in the last two blog posts is not up to the usual standard. The reason for this is that some of them are video stills using my new dual camera/scope setup, which enables me to get footage of birds seen on seawatches or distantly in gull roosts. The resulting images are jpegs and therefore cannot be run through the DXO denoising software that I used for all my other photos. Despite being of relatively poor quality, I've found it incredibly useful and far better than phonescoping in almost all situations. With the 2x extender on the Olympus 300mm F4, plus the MFT 2x crop factor and 1.4x digital teleconverter (I know the latter is simply pixel interpolation but it's super useful for getting 4k video which you can then crop down further), the resulting magnification is approximately 35x - similar to a spotting scope. I've tried using the same setup for conventional photography at these distances as well and the results are mediocre even with DXO processing - the bird is just too small in the frame. The Zitting Cisticola, for example, was an absolute speck, and that video grab is already amongst the better images available of it.
The same setup as described by Mike McKee in British Birds, using a short tripod centre column to attach an auxiliary ball head to the main two-way video head
The benefits of this setup really paid off on a trip back to Kent last week. With a fresh north/northeasterly blowing I decided to head to Reculver for a seawatch. It's a favourite location of mine as I like how you can basically see all of the vertical height of the sea from beach to horizon in a single scope view, and the birds are often at a nice distance. A bit like the view from the Portland patio, in fact, although much closer. Cornwall seawatching frustrates me in comparison as there is just so much sea to look at - it's a lot easier to miss things, and at sites like Pendeen I feel like I have to keep switching to bins for birds passing inside of the rocks.
I arrived at around 07:30 and set up my scope along with a few local seawatchers in the ruins of Reculver towers, which provide some shelter from the wind. The morning started slowly, with just a couple of Arctic Skuas, the odd flock of Wigeon and Brent Geese and a few Sandwich Terns. Most of these birds were going west, with a close-in skua one of the first individuals heading back east after presumably U-turning in the Thames estuary or Swale. This bird almost evaded identification as it went by so close and fast, and I only got onto it as it was flying away from us. Luckily, I recorded some video which confirmed it as a Great Skua.
Wigeon passing the wind farm - always like seeing duck movements in autumn
Another Wigeon flock
Great Skua
After a slow first hour the seawatch gradually improved, and we saw a few more Arctic Skuas (including two flocks of three birds), a handful of Little Gulls, Common Terns, Black Tern, Red-throated Diver, Pintail, Teal and Common Scoter - excellent variety although not a big passage day. Whilst trying to get people onto a distant Arctic Skua flying east under the wind farm, a juvenile Sabine's Gull drifted across my scope view going the other way. Slight panic trying to get people onto it as it was disappearing round to the left, where the ruins blocked the view for those sitting behind the wall, but I think everyone saw it and I was glad to get some more video as evidence. I think the recent Portland trip and "subliminal" Sabine's sighting has really driven home the "no photo, no record" mindset!
Juvenile Sabine's Gull - showed a bit better than this pic suggests, roughly mid-distance, but they are small birds...
Black Tern
Arctic Skuas
Two more skuas then appeared from the east and I noted that one was obviously bigger and more heavyset compared to the other - I couldn't see much plumage detail at that distance but suggested to the group that it could be a juvenile Pomarine Skua. I was met with silence so wasn't sure if they had heard. As they got closer I was sure that I could see more white in the underwing than the accompanying Arctic Skua and that its wings were broader. After they went out of view I asked the group what they thought of these birds and was quite surprised when they unanimously agreed that it was two Arctic Skuas, and didn't protest much. I had taken some video and was fully expecting it to be a learning experience when checking later, so I was actually a bit annoyed to be met with these images - an obvious Pomarine Skua... I wish I had stood up for myself a bit more! I've detailed some of the key identification points below but I think it was fairly clear even from the flight pattern that this wasn't an Arctic, almost lumbering with much slower wingbeats. I've not yet worked out how to edit and stabilise my videos properly (Mike McKee style...) so I've saved them all and just exported stills for the time being.
Underwing comparison with Arctic Skua - note presence of two white "flashes" on the underwing (caused by white bases to both the primaries and primary coverts - indicative of Pomarine Skua but a combination which, exceptionally, can be shown by Arctic Skua as well).
This photo really highlights the difference in structure - the wings are half again as broad as the Arctic Skua and it is much more barrel-chested. Note also the dark head.
Size difference apparent here and the combination of paler barred rump and dark head/nape basically never shown by Arctic Skua
Again, this really shows that the "VAR" approach to birding - with continuous sound recording and videoing birds during seawatches - massively improves the quality of records and enables a bit of fact checking especially if there are disagreements. On a personal level it also stops me second guessing anything that I see/hear briefly and reins in any attempts at stringing.
In the afternoon I checked South Foreland in the hopes of vismig and grounded passerines. Very little overhead movement but I chanced upon a Pied Flycatcher in Langdon Hole and a male Black Redstart at Fan Bay. Also notable were three Black-tailed Godwits flying in-off the sea.
Pied Flycatcher - didn't really settle nicely, kept bombing around the bushes
Chiffchaff
Black-tailed Godwits
With a few more trips planned in October I hope to do trip reports in a more timely manner, rather than long summaries like this post. I've got Yorkshire booked for next week and Cornwall directly afterwards - will be a mix of ringing and birding so hopefully still some good birds to come before end of autumn!
I seem to be blogging more infrequently of late, despite working on several good ideas for blog posts. I think this is linked to wanting to deliver a higher quality product - almost writing each post like a magazine article, with a planned narrative and plenty of time spent editing it. The benefit of this is that it seems to have drawn in a larger readership base, but the downside is that I'm choosing to miss out some "everyday" birding reports in favour of these longer, more structured posts.
Hence returning to a more basic format now that autumn is underway. Port Meadow is still dry, although it has experienced a bit of passerine migration recently, mostly through Burgess Field. I'm pleased to report that I've had three more patch ticks since my last update - all being species that I had predicted on my target list. The first of these was Crossbill on 12th June, which was entirely anticipated given the widespread influx at the start of the summer. It flew low east calling over the southern end of the meadow, offering some decent views. I've since had another heard only over the same area, although on both instances I've not had my sound recorder running!
The recorder was, however, instrumental in confirming my next patch tick - Tree Pipit. I'd been going out in the morning specifically to look for this species (an absolutely glaring omission) and hadn't really been experiencing much overhead passage of any birds. I'd recently upgraded my sound recording kit to a Zoom F3 with an EM272 capsule microphone so was keen to test its capabilities. On 14th August I thought I heard a distant, single call from a Tree Pipit and made a mental note to check the recording afterwards. Low and behold, listening back it's quite clearly a Tree Pipit, although due to being so distant the spectrogram is rather smudged. I've found that despite lacking an amplification effect (as in a parabolic) or filtering out off-axis sounds (as in a shotgun), the non-directional clippy capsule generally picks up anything that I am able to hear with my ears, and as long as noise levels are low, distant sounds can then be amplified a considerable amount by adjusting the gain level using post-processing software.
I've since had three more Tree Pipits on/around the patch including a fantastic bird calling low and loudly over my head as I walked down Walton Street and another mist-netted on Burgess Field - always great to see this species in the hand and look at the more subtle ways that it differs from Meadow Pipit. Almost seems unbelievable that I'd not had it in previous years, although I guess I wasn't really out walking much in the mornings before.
My third patch tick took me somewhat by surprise. I was walking through Burgess Field on 18th August when I was halted in my tracks by the "pichuu" call of a Marsh Tit, which then showed exceptionally well as the tit flock moved through bushes along the path. I always thought that I would see this species on a winter bird feeder, as I have with Coal Tit in the past (although this is a much more common species in gardens throughout the city centre). At this time of year, this individual is probably a disperser from Wytham Woods.
These three ticks bring me to 163 for the patch list - well short of the 170 I was hoping to achieve on patch, but I guess with the terrible weather for spring birding this was to be expected. There is still clearly a lot of passerine migration through Burgess Field at the moment and the number of birds caught at our weekly ringing sessions have been unusually high - sessions with 146 and 213 birds, for example. The majority of these have been migrant warblers such as Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps, which is quite exciting for an urban site, where catches tended to be dominated by garden birds such as tits and finches.
Stonechat trapped and ringed on Burgess Field
Other than that, I've had a couple apiece of Redstart,Wheatear, Sedge and Reed Warbler, as well as a few Spotted Flycatchers. Whinchat has eluded me so far, and it may be getting a bit late for that, although the first Stonechat of the autumn was trapped and ringed at the weekend. Pied Flycatcher seems like a pipe dream at this point! The autumnal feel has been continuing with a couple of days of good vismig in light southwesterlies. On these mornings there has been a continuous passage of Meadow Pipits (a few hundred, some of which we've managed to trap and ring), Swallows, House Martins and the first Siskins and Redpoll over.
Wheatear
Spotted Flycatcher
1cy male Redstart - this individual set up a little territory for a couple of days and was constantly calling from its favoured bush
Away from patch I've been visiting Farmoor and Otmoor a bit to try and clean up on some waders for the year list and was pleased to see Wood Sandpiper and Little Stint on a couple of occasions.
Wood Sandpiper and Green Sandpiper, Otmoor
Fascinating to see that the stint was mostly eating flies in the evening
Farmoor also produced a stunning adult Little Gull on 2nd September which performed almost as well as the Port Meadow bird last winter - calling and dip-feeding just a few metres away.
On 16th September I successfully twitched a Manx Shearwater which luckily was found early morning and news released promptly, which is not at all a given for Farmoor these days. This was my third at the reservoir and the most lively-looking one so far, which was good to see. It was flying around F2 in the evening - the absolutely bizarre sight of it being mobbed by the long-staying Caspian Gull was one of my Oxfordshire birding highlights of the autumn so far.
Rubbish pics compared to some of the frame-fillers taken earlier in the day but rather more evocative, I think, conjuring up images of a seawatch rather than a lost bird on a reservoir. I suspect the image of it with the Caspian Gull could well be unique in British birding!
The first Rock Pipit of the autumn flew in to the causeway during a rain shower on the evening of 18th September - I actually heard it from inside the hide and was pleased to find it showing well upon running outside. A particularly dark and swarthy individual, and since it arrived on a relatively early date it's tempting to conclude that this might be a dispersing juvenile petrosus rather than littoralis (which are apparently the norm inland in autumn/winter).
Overall a good mix of birds seen on patch and further afield, although time is running out to find something actually decent before I leave Oxford for the rest of the autumn.
The other activity which has been taking up a fair bit of my time recently has been nocmig. Using a homemade parabolic reflector, I've had some success with a few interesting records, although I've yet to have it out on a night with heavy passage and most times I check the recorder I get nothing at all! I've recorded two Grey Plover, two Whimbrel, Ringed Plover and perhaps best of all an Avocet on 24th August - which has dubiously made it onto my total for the eBird year listing competition! Passerines have been limited to three Tree Pipits and a single Spotted Flycatcher although I guess we've yet to hit autumn thrush passage. I was hoping for Ortolan Bunting but there were limited nights with good southeasterlies and low cloud.
The sound quality is not great, especially as it uses my older, rather noisy Zoom H4n pro, and the design of the microphone rather dubious - a paired stereo set of EM272s with a 3.5mm jack, which is useless for stereo sound if placed next to each other at the focal point of the parabola without some sort of separating baffle. The parabola itself, bought cheaply online, is also rather floppy and asymmetrical. Overall it's clear that an upgrade is required and I'm still deciding what's the best product to buy (Dodotronic? Wildtronics? Telinga?) so any recommendations are appreciated.
The Farmoor causeway looking stunning after an evening shower
A few weeks back I mentioned to Ben Sheldon the possibility of organising a Sweden trip. This had been on the cards for a while - Ben frequently visits and is quite keen on his Swedish list, and a previous plan earlier in the year had fallen through. This time, I was gripped by reports of a displaying Wilson's Snipe in a relatively accessible part of Sweden. For some reason I found the idea of an American Snipe taking up residence in a Scandinavian forest, at a time of year where it never gets properly dark, really enticing. In Britain, Wilson's Snipe has exclusively been recorded on the Scillies in autumn/winter, where close views and increased observer awareness has resulted in a series of records supported by photo evidence. It is still a tricky identification, and in my opinion not the "best" way to experience the species. The display flight of Wilson's is distinct from Common Snipe, with the birds drumming using four outermost tail feathers rather than just two - producing a sound that is rarely heard in the Western Palearctic.
With a supporting cast of lingering rarities, including Dalmatian Pelican (first for Sweden), Blue-winged Teal, and Ring-billed Gull, together with the chance to see northern specialities such as Great Grey Owl and singing Blyth's Reed Warbler, it was clear that this was the perfect time to visit. I was also keen to study some Baltic Gulls in their core range, which would be a first for me after my attempts to identify them in Britain.
This will be a rather different blog post to usual, because I don't have many photos of birds to show. Unfortunately, my Olympus kit is currently being repaired after the lens mount sheared off. Seemingly many small knocks have taken their toll - the lens had had a bit of lateral play for a while and as I was taking it out of my bag it completely fell apart. I did bring my old Canon 7d Mark II and 400mm f/5.6 but to be honest I wasn't particularly motivated to use it. In any case, at least you've all been spared another fuscus photo gallery/essay...
We flew from Heathrow to Stockholm Arlanda late evening on Sunday 6th July, and after an uneventful journey we settled into our accommodation in Uppsala in preparation for an early start on Monday morning.
A fantastic sunset from the balcony of the house
Our first stop was Hjälstaviken, a large lake southwest of Uppsala which is a well-known site for migrating waders and wildfowl. Amongst the many Wood Sandpipers were our only Curlew Sandpipers of the trip (a flock of five), and sitting in the Black-headed Gull colony were two Caspian Terns. On the way back to the car we had a nice view of a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. We then drove to Frövisjön, where the Blue-winged Teal was currently summering. Breeding Goldeneye and Little Gull were good to see, whilst a couple of Spotted Redshank and Ruff were the best of the migrant waders. The duck was nowhere to be seen, however - it was apparently favouring an area of reeds around a large bush, and was out in the open only sporadically. Other twitchers on site reported some people having to wait six hours to see the bird! We spend a while half-heartedly grilling a couple of mostly obscured birds, before we had to move on - although as the site was relatively close by, we planned to return the following day.
View over Hjälstaviken from the tower - quite typical of Scandinavian nature reserves, which favour these viewing platforms over hides. I'd like to see more of them in the UK!
After stopping for some snacks, we began the drive through Uppland to our main target for today, the Dalmatian Pelican. The bird had been roaming widely between Sweden and Finland since being found, but had luckily settled down a bit by the time our trip rolled round, and was frequenting the island of Orarna, which is a nature reserve with no public access. There were a few points on the mainland from which people had been seeing the Pelican, and we were encouraged by recent update on its location as we drove north.
We pulled up at the suggested viewpoint and couldn't immediately see where to start searching - rather than the vista we expected, we were looking at a narrow strip of water between the mainland and Orarna. There was no sign of the Pelican, nor any twitchers. Continuing along the path, we soon encountered a large group of birders scoping something. Glancing briefly in the direction they were viewing, I could see a distant white shape through bins - this was surely the bird. I set my scope on it and you can imagine my disappointment when I realised that it was a Mute Swan! It transpired that the Pelican had only been seen briefly in flight earlier, before being lost to view somewhere in the reedy inlets surrounding the island. The positioning of the group of twitchers was very odd, standing about 20 metres back from what was a much better viewpoint right next to the shore, where a gap in the trees allowed you to see over the water. Standing where we were, there was only tiny field of view to look for the Pelican. We daren't question this strange decision - perhaps this is how twitches are done in Sweden - so waited for a while before deciding that this was obviously futile. A flyover Osprey salvaged the stop.
We spent the afternoon visiting a few other sites in the area with Joe Wynn, who was also in Sweden for fieldwork. The bay at Ledskärsbryggan had hosted Pacific Golden Plover in the last week, but we had no luck searching amongst the Lapwings - however, an Icterine Warbler calling from the car park bushes was a welcome addition. Looking out over the Baltic Sea at Rödhäll, we picked up a few more ticks - Red-breasted Merganser, Goosander, Eider, Black Guillemot, and two Arctic Skuas mobbing a White-tailed Eagle. I also had my first views of Baltic Gull, very distantly on one of their colony islands (where Joe had been ringing earlier in the day). Apparently they are quite pelagic compared to other gulls and their colony sizes are rather small - typically only a few pairs. A Hobby flying far out over the sea was another oddity. We unsuccessfully tried twitching a Citrine Wagtail at Södra Vendelsjön, with the only birds of note being a flock of Black Terns over the lake.
News that the Pelican was roosting back on its favourite rock meant that we had to give it another go. We pulled up next to the pier at Lutens Väg and joined a few other birders already present. Here we had a nice view across the bay to Orarna, but the island was so distant I was wondering how on earth we would be able to identify the bird. Measuring on Google maps, we were around 4km away from the shoreline! The instructions given were brief and unenthusiastic - left of the left turbine, on the white rock. I couldn't see anything through bins. Cranking up the scope, I was able make out a few birds on the island. I could see a large white rock, and realised that the top half of the rock was in fact a perched white bird, completely tucked up. I panned over to compare its size with a Mute Swan, and confirmed that the blob was substantially bigger. We also noted the tuft of feathers at the back of its head, visible even though it had its bill hidden. Enough to confirm that this was indeed the Dalmatian Pelican (or at the very least a Pelican), although possibly the most unsatisfying world tick ever. We waited for a while to see if it would reveal its head, but no luck. We read later that the bird had been chased off of its perch by White-tailed Eagles - now that would have been quite something to see! We called it a day and headed back to Uppsala.
The Dalmatian Pelican on its favourite rock, with Cormorants to the right. Video below showing how far we had to zoom in!
Another early start the next morning for a singing Blyth's Reed Warbler fairly near to our accommodation. The bird showed surprisingly well, although its proximity to the road meant that my recordings are quite noisy. It is amazing how far the sound of a car travels! A lifer for me and a bird that I hope to see/find in Britain soon. A stop at a newly-created wetland produced excellent views of Red-necked and Slavonian Grebe on territory, before we headed into Stockholm.
Our main target here was a summering Ring-billed Gull, as well as the opportunity to observe Baltic Gulls at close range. An added bonus was the fact that Lars Jonsson's Invisibilis exhibition is currently running at the Liljevalchs Art Gallery - a must-see for any birder visiting Stockholm. We parked the car just around the corner from the Ring-billed Gull site, which turned out to be an ornamental pond and fountain in the middle of a city square - completely bizarre. There were a few Black-headed and Common Gulls milling around, although no sign of the bird, so we decided to get some food and wait. I of course offered a few scraps to the birds, and soon a nice adult Baltic Gull flew down and practically ate out of my hand, before deciding to steal Ben's cinnamon bun - fantastic. I also briefly saw a couple of 3cy fuscus, and I was pleased to see that these looked very similar to the candidate bird I had at Stanton St John in May - complete with advanced mantle/tail moult. Apparently, 2cy birds are quite uncommon in Sweden, with most summering further south.
Just as we were getting up to leave, the Ring-billed Gull flew in, instantly recognisable in flight even from a distance. Initially it perched up on the roof of a nearby cafe, although another cinnamon bun was enough to tempt it down. Clearly the bird is very used to people, and by this point we had been joined by a couple of other twitchers, who enjoyed seeing us feeding it at close range. This video illustrates just how well it showed - useless trying to use my DSLR most of the time, as the 400mm focal length was far too long to fit the whole bird in the frame. I chose to enjoy it mostly without optics, which also seemed more apt in a city centre setting.
We headed over to the gallery, taking in Stockholm's small population of Barnacle Geese - apparently derived both from escaped stock and natural colonisation. I was absolutely blown away by the exhibition, having previously seen many of the paintings in books/online. In life, I was taken by his use of negative space when painting winter scenes using watercolour (not immediately apparent when just viewing images), and the large format of his work. There was a mixture of watercolour field sketches, fine art oils and field guide plates spread across several large rooms - Jonsson is clearly a much-loved artist in Sweden to have commanded such an extensive exhibition. The highlight for me was a piece called "Evolution", a wall of 300 gull field sketches from across the globe (and, bizarrely, one spoonbill - perhaps some artistic humour). Somewhat overwhelming to experience rare gulls and the art of Lars Jonsson in the space of just a few hours. I only wish I had had more time to spend at the exhibition, as I think I could have spent an entire day there.
We were on a tight schedule, however, with the plan being to connect with Wilson's Snipe that evening, so we had one last look at the Ring-billed Gull before heading out of the city. We had another session dipping the Blue-winged Teal on our drive west. The views changed from the flat, semi-agricultural land surrounding Stockholm to more hilly, forested and undeniably wilder looking landscapes as we approached the site. After around three hours we turned north along a gravel track into the forest - we had arrived. Apart from a couple of houses along the track, the place was deserted. A pair of Black Woodpeckers called as we got out of the car and headed into the forest.
The Wilson's Snipe had not been seen the previous day, although we chalked this up to sporadic visits from twitchers now that it had been on territory for a while. According to reports, the bird was reliably displaying around 8pm, so we had arrived right on time. We walked a short distance through the trees towards a more open area, and the ground became increasingly boggy. After around 20 minutes waiting, we couldn't hear or see any Snipe at all - whether Common or Wilson's - so we were getting a bit confused. Displaying birds should be audible from quite far away. There was also no sign of the tree stumps that the bird had been favouring and it all looked pretty overgrown. Surely this couldn't be right - I checked the map with Ben and it became apparent that the last person to upload a sighting of the bird had dropped the map pin in the wrong place! All of the previous drop pins were from another area of clearfell a few hundred metres away, and grumbling, we made our way back along the path, shoes full of water.
Pulling in at the correct layby (which already had a birder's car parked in it), we followed a well-trodden path leading away along the edge of a field. Rounding a corner, a somewhat post-apocalytic landscape stretched away in front of us, full of smashed trees and stagnant puddles. In the middle of this scene were two figures and a scope, solemnly facing the setting sun. We hurried towards our fellow twitchers and enquired about the Wilson's Snipe. They had arrived a short while previously and confirmed that the bird was still present - it had perched briefly on its favourite stump before being chased away by a Common Snipe. We had missed it by minutes, so we were gripped. If we hadn't wasted half an hour at the wrong location, we would have already seen it! In true Swedish fashion, they calmly assured us that it would soon return and begin displaying.
Feeling slightly more optimistic, I set my scope on the perch and began waiting. Despite the logging destruction the atmosphere of the place was phenomenal. Woodcocks were roding overhead, Cranes bugled unseen from beyond the clearfell and a flock of Swifts were hunting insects in the dying light. A Great Grey Shrike perched up on one of the firs behind us - a nice Swedish tick.
The attitude to twitching in Sweden seems very different to the UK. Both of our companions were not just patiently waiting for the bird, but actively searching rather than chatting loudly or sitting idly on their phones. In fact there was a silently focused, serene, almost druidic air to the twitch. One guy was laden with every piece of gear you could possibly need - bins, scope, camera, parabolic microphone, thermal imager, mosquito thermacell, all neatly arranged in camo pouches. Every so often he would scan the parabolic microphone with headphones in, listening for distant signs of the bird. I have never been more impressed.
Ben Sheldon, Jens Morin and Son(?)
Mist rolled in across the clearing, and the bird's favourite perches were soon obscured. A Redwing called overhead. It was getting cold and damp and there was still no sign of the bird. Ben returned to the car to get more clothing and had a brief sighting of a moose - gripped! It was now as dark as it was going to get that night, although the sky was still pale and clear. Despite the mist and setting sun, bird activity was increasing. These were probably my best ever views of Woodcocks roding, and I distracted myself with taking some sound recordings. A fantastic ambience.
Despite this Ben was somewhat despairing at the bird's absence - "I can't believe we're here on the one night it isn't displaying!". I told him that we had only been waiting 90 minutes and was willing to stay here all night until we connected. Despite this, I worried that he was becoming silently inconsolable - at one point I glanced over and he was looking at the ground, shaking his head. I wondered what I would say on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back if we dipped, especially as we had arguably twitched this bird all the way from Britain!
The mid-twitch dip in mood
Eventually, our Swedish friend detected something through the parabolic microphone. Straining my ears, I could just about hear a Snipe calling a few hundred metres away. He confirmed that it was a Common Snipe, but that this mirrored what happened when the Wilson's Snipe last showed, with other birds encouraging it to start displaying. "It is a good sign" he said, with a slight smile. After a few minutes he said that he thought he could hear the Wilson's Snipe calling as well. I wasn't familiar with the differences in the chip calls so was struggling a bit. He said that it had called a couple of times before and that the chip was slightly harsher sounding. I thought I could hear a different rhythm as well, but to be honest wasn't sure if what I was picking up was variations in Common Snipe. "We need more than this" said Ben.
The sound stopped for a couple of minutes and I saw a Snipe fly low across the clearing right in front of us - it looked a bit odd, rather short-billed, and I wondered it that could have been the Wilson's Snipe, although the light was really gone by this point. Surely enough, birds began calling again from a stack of trees much closer to us - seemingly a mixture of Common and Wilson's type vocalisations, and I was beginning to appreciate the differences a bit more. I've attached a sound recording below, of what I believe to be a Common Snipe followed by Wilson'sSnipe calling, potentially with a brief duet at the end, although after looking through Xeno-canto I'm not 100% sure of the extent of variation and this could well just be one bird. If anyone reading has any insights please let me know - apparently an article on the differences in vocalisations is being prepared for the Swedish birding magazine, based on recordings from this bird.
What we really needed now was some drumming - proper display flight. We only had to wait a few minutes more before that haunting sound floated over the tops of the trees towards us. So different to Common Snipe - higher pitched, slower paced, sounding less "mechanical" and more like some strange winnowing owl. Despite the fact that the bird was presumably right over our heads, it offered only the faintest of glimpses during its display - I assume it was way up high and the light was too dim for us to resolve it properly. One of the Swedish birders said he could make it out as a dot whizzing around through the thermal imager. Still, the sound was what I had mostly come for, and the fact that we could barely see it somehow made the experience even more ethereal. Volume up for the video!
The Wilson's Snipe was displaying over this clearing - Woodcock also audible in the recording below
We listened to the Wilson's Snipe for around half an hour before heading back to the car, conscious that we still had to drive through the night to get back to Uppsala. We were both completely exhausted, almost turning onto the wrong side of the motorway as we left the forest tracks. An arduous journey followed, with the road being temporarily closed for resurfacing before we were randomly stopped by police. I was not expecting my first breathalysing experience to be at 2am in Sweden after twitching an American wader! I was most concerned about whether they were going to ask me to get out of the car, because it would have then become obvious that I wasn't wearing any shoes - they had got so sodden in the bog that I couldn't face driving in them for hours. I can't imagine that the police would have been impressed! Eventually we made it back to Uppsala and watched the sun rise again at 02:45am. What a phenomenal experience.
After a couple of hours sleep, we spent the morning of the third and final day checking out a few local sites, including some woodland and reedbed that we had previously neglected. Another visit to the scrapes at Hjälstaviken yielded two Temminck's Stints, a pair of Honey Buzzards were soaring over the woods behind, and juvenile Bearded Tits pinged in the reedbed. We stopped for another hour to dip the Blue-winged Teal for the last time before accepting that it wasn't to be. Despite being reported by other birders each day of our trip, somehow we were unable to connect with this bird - although if I had to choose which of our targets to miss in Sweden it would surely be the Blue-winged Teal, so not too bad going. Only downside was the amount of time spent staring at that bush!
We returned to Uppsala, taking in Ben's old patch (where he famously found Sweden's second Slender-billed Gull) before meeting up with Per Alström, who kindly provided lunch. After three days of service station food and bits of bread, we responded to the paneer curry laid out before us like sailors coming ashore after a season at sea! Per had agreed to show us some local sites for Great Grey Owl which had been found by Bo Söderström, who specialises in sound recording in these forests (link to his extraordinary SoundCloud here). In the interests of keeping the locations hidden I'll let these photos do the talking, in lieu of providing a detailed description. I realise that I've let the superlatives flow freely throughout this blog post, but honestly these were just amazing birds.
We found the juvenile first, which was already very impressive (although I must admit thinking that it wasn't quite as large as I imagined). This was then completely eclipsed by the adult sitting a few trees away, both in size and aura. The bird was almost completely unconcerned by our presence, often turning its back to us and continuing to doze. At one point it spread its wings and flew a short distance - it must be incredible to see them hunting.
We also picked up a few other forest specialities, such as Capercaillie, Crested Tit and Tree Pipit, but dipped Ural Owl at a different site in the forest. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late in the season to try for owls in nestboxes, such as Tengmalm's and Pygmy. By this point we were completely exhausted so bailed on attempting to see Nightjar, especially as we had an early flight back the following morning. We finished on 131 species across the three days.
Ben Sheldon and Per Alström
Overall my impression of Sweden was very positive, despite the severe lack of sleep during this trip (from which I think I am still recovering!). The country and cities were beautiful, the reserves quiet and full of birds, whilst the birders themselves were a breath of fresh air compared to the British scene. It was good to intersperse some twitches throughout, despite the fact that we would have probably seen more if we had focused on seeing all available residents and migrants to pad out the Swedish list. I just think it made the trip more interesting and targeted. The Wilson's Snipe has got to be a contender for best twitch ever - the distance travelled, the ambience of the location, the behaviour of the bird and of course the jeopardy of potentially dipping. It really felt like a bit of an adventure! I don't think that this twitch will be the start of a Western Palearctic listing obsession but I can certainly see myself organising future trips around rare birds rather than just general birding. Having been to Lithuania as well last year, I can firmly say that the area around the Baltic Sea is one of my favourite parts of Europe.
Many thanks to Ben for sorting the logistics and accommodation for this trip, as well as Per and Bo for their hospitality on the last day. A link to our eBird trip report can be found here.
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