Having a Butcher's

Ridiculousness. Complete and utter unbelievable ridiculousness. And no, I don't mean the fact that I'm writing a blog again. Again, no, it's not that I've actually been busy with college, and work since last I related a tale to you all. The sheer crazy, is this really happening??ness stems instead from... please sit down for this... birding.  Actual birding. Okay, maybe twitching, but still, birds were, or rather a bird was involved.  And it was this bird that caused, for many people, a state of flabbergasted awe. Which, to be fair, is most certainly the correct state to be in once a Red-backed Shrike has glided down and taken a grasshopper (R.I.P) from right by your feet. Wouldn't you agree?
 Crippling views is a term which is often overused, here though, it's justified. A shrike sitting on a perfect perch, in lovely light... you don't get much better than that.
 In the off chance that you haven't worked it out yet (I mean it's not as if the internet's filled with pictures of this bird), yes, I went for the Tide Mills Red-backed Shrike.
 It had been present for about two or three days before I managed to get over there, and I had heard it said that it was showing rather nicely.... well they got that right.

I arrived at about 1pm and spent a good five hours there, leaving at around dusk. The days really could do with being a bit longer again. The shrike, a first summer male, was on show almost the whole time, and was having his picture taken at a rate of about 40 times a second. Well, what do you expect, it was basically a photographer's dream, if photographers were ever daring enough to have a dream that crazy.
 At a twitch it is usually considered bad etiquette to approach the bird even a little bit, this wasn't one of those times however (although I'm not saying no one complained), as the shrike would let you approach to within ten feet of it and hardly give you a second glance.

Despite the presence of a large number of photographers, the bird managed to feed well throughout the day, catching grasshoppers, cranefly, bees, Devils Coach Horse beetles, lizards and apparently a Pygmy Shrew.  I was, I must admit, rather fascinated to see a lizard, dripping gook and impaled in a rose bush. Shrikes really are very lovely birds.
 As the evening drew in, it stopped feeding so much and started to sit one legged at the top of bushes issuing forth a soft, scratchy sub-song. Not very common behaviour for a shrike in Britain, but then I'm not sure much that this bird did was.
 Such a crazy good bird, quite possibly the best £2.95 I've ever spent; even if it did take me 2 hours to complete a 30 minute journey to get home... Ahh, good ol' public transport. But even the soul crushing abilities of buses and trains were well worth it.

A Pyrausta A Day Keeps The Doctor Away

Five a day and it must be May. Okay, well technically that's not true, but be honest, what would you prefer, facts or rhymes? Surely you'd pick the rhyme.... every time. Alright, alright, I'll cut it out. Without a doubt.
 To those slightly keen with their micro moth latin, I'm sure by now that an inkling of the following (un-rhyming) content has began to form. Yes, it's moths. That time of year is here (well that was  unintentional) again. Oh and of course, I do still live in Britain, so there will naturally be some complaining about the weather.
 A few weeks ago Bob Eade kindly offered to show me around his patch in Seaford to see some of the fantastic and rather specialised lepidoptera species that occurred there. Up until this week, we could never find a good day to go, and I'm sure you can hazard a reasonable guess why - the weather, faithfully awkward as always. I mean come on, frost and snow in mid-April? Where was that in December? Oh and don't get me started on that wind...
 Last week however the climate appeared to have finally noticed the calendar, knocking the temperature up into the mid 20°C's. The wind didn't really relent, but hey, it actually felt like spring - maybe summer even. The point is, it didn't feel like my fingers were going to freeze off. A very promising start.
 Late Monday morning, after the now-to-be-expected train delays (I did however manage to see a Pyrausta aurata in my spare time), I met up with Bob and we headed off to his patch.
 Within just a few minutes of arriving we were greeted with good views of the scarce, delightful little Elachista subocella.

We continued on, seeing: Silver Y, Cinnabar, Burnet Compaion and Pyrausta despicata. A nice surprise was a Pyrausta nigrata, not a moth I'd expected to see.
 Pyrausta ostrinalis was one of the species we were hoping to see, and after about twenty or so minutes Bob found one. An extremely beautiful moth, but, you know the word mean? Well they were, for the most part, the definition of mean. Perhaps so far as invidious? They had the idea so  ever present in wildlife, that moving during the taking of an image is good. Like a sixth sense almost.
Ah well, it certainly made me much more appreciative when one landed and stayed for a while.

They really are superb!

There were plenty of good butterfly species around too, a few Grizzled and a dozen or so Dingy Skippers, as well as a couple of stunning Green Hairstreak.
The fifth species of Pyrausta turned up shortly after, an incredibly fresh - and as such stunning - purpuralis.

 One of the micro moths we saw was unfamiliar to the both of us. When I got home I tentatively ID'd it as Tinagma balteolella, a rare species, and after a couple of days, the county recorder kindly verified this. It was only the second site ever to have knowingly held the species in Sussex, and the first sighting of one in the county for 30 years!

A big thanks to Bob for showing me around, such an incredible array of great species and a superb day out.

Birthday Bus Birding

Do you remember last year I turned fifteen? Well, this came as a shock to find out, but this year I'm going to be even older. The cheek of it all.  Tomorrow I turn the ripe old age of sixteen... time to break out the walking stick.
 In keeping with the tradition of the last few years, I celebrated the last few days of being a (variable of course) age by going birding. You may be proud to know that for this year's pre-birthday events, I didn't even twitch. After last year I think not twitching was... umm, wise.  So, just good old - old, stop reminding me - fashioned birding.
On Saturday I headed out with Caleb and Liam  for a day of birding around very windy Sussex. Bus birding to be precise, which constitutes a lot of buses and, well, on this occasion, not a lot of birds.
We started the day shortly after sunrise at Brighton Marina, and saw some large waves and a Rock Pipit.  Exciting times.
 On from there, buses to Hove Lagoon for some distant views of a Great-northern Diver on Southwick Canal.  This was a county tick though, so a nice addition to a list that I don't really keep. Possibly as it would be scarily low if I did.
 Despite the wind's best intentions to  blow us away, Liam managed to find a pair of Common Scoter out on the sea from the beach here, a relatively good bird in Sussex at this time of year.
Back into East Sussex after that, to the Ouse Estuary Project where we had nice views of Kestrel and half a dozen or so Snipe in flight.  The light had begun to fade by this point, so we made our final stop at Newhaven to try and find a Caspian or something else interesting among the gulls coming in to roost.  The wind then decided that shouldn't be possible and reached rather its peak of the day. 'Blowing a Gale', I believe would be a fitting expression.
There was a Shag in the harbour, and with seemingly nothing among the gulls, we called it a day. The weather was not hospitable.
 The journey home took me to an all time personal best, ten buses boarded in a day! It turns out the excitement of buses ran out for me about ten years ago. I think trains to be more bearable a form of public transport.
 We didn't see anything amazing, but still, not an unenjoyable day's birding. At least I didn't dip...

A Birding Moral

Phalaropes are great. I've seen two of the three species, Grey, and as of last week Wilson's.
 Filled with an enviable (for us oldies, I'm nearly sixteen) and seemingly endless energy, they never appear to stop moving.  You'd think they'd be a nemesis to photographers. Not so. With Grey at least they're practically a photographers best friend, particularly if they're in Sussex. They seem to know no boundaries, being more than 24 inches away is out of the norm. A photographer would generally suffer from having 'too much lens'. And as we all know, photographers - generally - love complaining about not having enough lens. So too much? Basically unheard of. This was how both last year's Hove 'play-ground-paddling-pool' bird, and the recent bird on the Cuckmere  performed.  I went for the Hove bird, it was amazing. The Cuckmere bird was showing just as well, and in more natural habitat, you could bet your hat I was going to go! What's more you could be sure I was going to get the first train of the day there. It's practically guaranteed I'd walk the three or so miles from the station to get there before sunrise.  And you know what? It was down right certain the Phalarope would show amazingly.
 This was to be my third Grey Phal. The Hove bird, a hardly tick-able fly-by from a pelagic, and then this. Ignore the fly-by, this was going to rival the Hove bird, this one was going to be great. Wasn't it?
Nope. Nee.  Nein.
 The bird had moved from a small pool to what would probably be classed as a lagoon. In which it stuck to a single current and never came closer that 15-20 foot, more often 50. Terrible.  At the time I'll admit, to my shame, I was a little disappointed. A scarce migrant down to 20 foot, that should be amazing, shouldn't it?  In the moment, it didn't really seem so. There's a simple answer here - the Hove bird ruined it for me. Well, that and the pictures from the day before.

                                                             I mean it's not that bad


 Does this mean then, that unless my next Grey Phalarope is less than two foot away I'll be disappointed? Honestly, I hope not. How often do they show quite that well anyway?  I'm sure two in the last two years is just a coincidence.  At least with Wilson's it just needs to be within 500 foot, and Red-necked just needs to be there...
 The moral of this story? Never (ever), have expectations with birding.  Or, just make sure you go the day before.

1st Class Mothing

I have recently spent a lot of time at train stations.  And not just for my weekly traversing.  I have, for want of a better word, been loitering at my local train station. Both day and night. Camera in hand? Yes. Making lists? Yes. I see what you may be thinking, but worry not! I have most certainly not taken up train-spotting. Despite what it may seem to an onlooker.  No, you see, my local train station is unusually good for moths. Sure, I'm no expert when it comes to mothing at train stations, but I feel more than fifty species over a period of three days isn't too bad.
Although it had occurred to me on several occasions that the lights at the train station could be good for attracting moths, I'd never really tried mothing there. However when Caleb found an Elephant Hawk-moth on the side of the steps, I was unsurprisingly swayed to deciding to see what came at night.
 A lot, that's the answer. The stunning Blackneck, Peach Blossom and Swallow-tailed were a few favourites. However, the award for most incredible moth of the night for me goes to the Enteucha acetosae. One of, if not the smallest moths in the world. Being just 1.5mm in length, it was umm, quite tricky to see.  It's size is comparable as to that of the eye of a White Ermine.  Both ridiculous and ridiculously awesome.

Heading back the next night, there was even more about. Burnished Brass, Buff Arches, Figure of Eighty, Coronet, The Lackey, Shark (no, not the fish), Elephant Hawk-moth, and a nice surprise under one of the seats in the waiting room - Small Elephant Hawk-moth!  A very worn individual, but stunning nonetheless.

 Returning the next afternoon to collect some rain tickets, we then found a Kent Black Arches under one of the seats!  I feel I may now spend more time looking for moths under these seats than sitting on them.

An awesome few days mothing, and a much more enjoyable way to spend time at the station than waiting for trains...

Rich(ard's) Pickings

My, it's been a while since my last post! Have you missed me? No? Can't say I'm all that surprised...
Since my last post here in the blogger-sphere I can't say all that much had happened, well, despite a bucketload of dipping. And a big bucket at that.  You see, my annual late winter trip to Ireland wasn't quite the success I had hoped.  It resulted in the dipping of the following; Black Scoter, American Coot, Ring-necked Duck and Laughing Gull... Though some small consolation did come from a stunning drake American Wigeon.
 Yesterday morning I headed out for my first proper days birding since returning to England.  I met up with Liam Curson at Newhaven, before heading to the Ouse Estuary to look for the Richard's Pipit he had found a few days earlier.  After fifteen or so minutes scanning the grassy banks in the rain, we were heading to try a slightly different location when another birder found it up on a fencepost.  It gave great scope views here for a couple of minutes before dropping down into the grass. A great bird to start the day with!  We got some more views after it came down into the grass on a distant bank a little later on, and also had four Bearded Tits (Reedlings, whatever) in the reeds around it.

 Walking from here to Tide Mills produced a frankly ridiculous number of Snipe, probably somewhere around sixty. Oh and brief flight views of a jack Snipe as well!
 Tide Mills was pretty quiet, none of the hoped for Wheatears, but a Firecrest was a nice surprise.
 It was then on to Cuckmere, where Liam quickly found an adult Yellow-legged Gull.  A Scandi Rock Pipit, Yellowhammer and Pintail were a couple of other good birds as we headed down the river to look for the Great-grey Shrike which's been in the area for a while. And although it was still in the area having been seen earlier, we couldn't locate it.
 A possible Iberian Chiffchaff had been reported just a hundred or so metres away, so we headed up to see what was going on.  There were a few others there who'd had the bird earlier, and had taken some recordings of its song.  We then got to hear it in person as it appeared in a tree and begun singing.  How does one describe this bird? Hmm, I think weird is the best word. Yes, the bird was weird - No offence.  Most of the time it gave a song, slightly reminiscent of a Coal Tit with some little warbles, but yet it also did the standard 'Chiff-chaff', and seemingly the 'wheet' contact call of a Common Chiffchaff.  An aberrant Colybita is the current theory, and I would agree, though I'd be a long, long way out of my depth making an opinion on it.
An interesting end to a superb days birding, with a total seen and heard list of seventy species!

Let it Snow..

After my borderline disastrous pre-birthday birding, I subsequently turned fifteen.  To break in my new age, early the morning after my birthday I headed to Newhaven Harbour with Caleb for a spot of birding.  It wasn't an encouraging start after I missed the train I was intending to get.  Still, it was dark... So early enough.  With the sun coming up over the sea to start a clear day, I headed to the pier to look for Purple Sandpipers. They seem pretty much guaranteed here from December-March, so finding them usually isn't too hard, getting a shot on the other hand... not so easy.  They seem to favour feeding in the shade below the pier, bad angle, bad lighting, I'll leave it at that.  Always a joy to watch though!
 There was a single Shag fishing just off the pier, and that was about it for the next hour or two, save countless flocks of finches.
 While watching one of the groups of finches (in this case Greenfinch) feeding on a beach, we caught a glimpse of something larger with big wing-bars come down on the beach. Snow Bunting flashed to mind.  And after cautiously - and slightly excitedly I will admit - approaching where it had landed, yes!  There it was, Snow Bunting. A burst of shots, then we moved around and waited for it to come a bit closer.  Thankfully, it complied.  Need I tell you how the next four hours were spent?  Perhaps not, but I will. I feel I must, for it was rather incredible. Somehow this was my first Snow Bunt, funnily enough I dipped one here a couple of weeks ago.
I dread to think the amount of times I filled my memory cards - perhaps a reminder to clear them before I go out?  Employing the crawling-on-shingle approach, we managed at times to be within 10 foot of him (it was a male). The light was perhaps too harsh, and sure he seemed to have a love for distracting debris, but with views like that I'm not complaining...

We watched him (with just a small break) until the sun was too low to photograph any more.  Such a great bird, the third to turn up on this stretch of coast in the last few weeks, but by far the the showiest!

Autumn Begins...

The Autumn migration,  ah, that fantastic time of year.  In retrospect, I've never really been able to observe Autumn migration at its full capacity. The sheer number of birds passing can be incredible.  So it was, on Monday I found myself in an awe at the numbers, at the magnitude with which some species were present.

 Arriving at Seaford Head before the sun was fully risen, I was greeted by House Martins.  Thousands and thousands of House Martins.  The sky was full of them, the Sea, the cliffs... everywhere you looked there were House Martins.  It seemed rather an unreal sight to behold.  Three, to four thousand seemed about right.  I imagine I had watched them for at least thirty minutes before I could drag myself away to look at Yellow Wagtails, which were in decent numbers also, although nothing like the House Martins.  Over the day I had a respectable thirty-forty of these stunning yellow(ish) migrants.

Similar numbers of Wheatear were also present, with one field containing over ten.  It was a good field to say the least and, after two hours, some did come rather close.  I recall one surprising moment when a Wheatear ran directly at me and stopped no more than twelve foot away.  There was however, in rather typical fashion, a single blade of grass going across its face.  Here's one from twenty foot instead.

Among all the migrants - Whinchats, Redstart, Willow Warbler, Whitethroats and Swallows - I did make time for some non-avian wildlife. I must be mad.  I suppose it's excusable to be distracted by an Adder though isn't it? Yes, I was lucky enough to find my first ever Adder, basking in a gorse bush by the edge of a path.  Just amazing.  Seeing a wild snake was one of my hopes this summer, I'm sure I can make do with getting it in Autumn though...

Rather a nice way to break into the new season don't you think?

Eagley Awaiting

Am I now a twitcher?  Thinking back to my birding this year I'm becoming inclined to say so.  Perhaps I should be put under the bracket of 'occasional twitcher'.  Much more justifiable.  Although 'frequent dipper' may be more appropriate.
 With a Short-Toed Eagle being regularly seen from Ashdown Forest for the last few days, and showing pretty well, how could I not go and see this mega?  So a trip down yesterday, in short - failed. Miserably.  No sign of the eagle and pretty much void of anything else of interest.
It's a mega, of course we tried again.  An earlier start this morning and immediately things seemed more promising.  Arriving in Long Car park shortly after eight, we picked up on two Woodlark, a male Redstart, Spotted Flycatcher and a Stonechat.  Already a deal better than before.  News then came in that the Eagle was in a dead tree ten minutes away at Gill's Lap.  Fifteen minutes later (thanks to a thoughtlessly slow truck) we pulled up.   I left the car in some hurry, and... yep, it was there.  Wow, what a bird!  After a few minutes it left the tree showing off it's hugely impressive wingspan, before proceeding to disappear behind the trees. Mega, not just for its rarity level. Well worth the hours.
 In the surrounding area we had more Stonechats, Redstarts and a couple of Buzzards.  It took a bit of searching, but this was followed up by some good views of singing and 'parachuting' Tree Pipits.
 Tree Pipit being my 200th British species!  I'm calling the slump well and truly over.

                                                     You have my word this an Eagle...