Gloucestershire serves up the birds.

Finally a Saturday where the weather wasn't horrendous, so a 6.00am meet with Sharpy and we set off on a pleasant drive through the Chilterns and then the even more pleasant Cotswolds. We arrived in Brockworth around 8.00am and within 10 minutes we were watching two fantastic male Penduline Tits foraging through the reed mace on the Horsebere flood pool.

We gleaned over an hours enjoyment from these little stonkers before they took to the sky and departed. A quick wander round the pool revealed a few Common Snipe tucked away in the rushes before we moved on.

A few miles up the road was the Forest of Dean and in the Forest of Dean there are Goshawks. A no brainer where to go next. New Fancy was our viewpoint of choice and albeit through murky light we were soon rewarded with a distant 'Gos'. But a biting North-Easterly was howling through the valley. Probably not the most conducive conditions for raptor watching so we opted to have a look for the Great Grey Shrike at Crabtree Hill.

Following some other birders we'd just befriended, we were on site in a matter of minutes. It didn't take long to find the shrike either, although it was rather distant on the top of a large Larch. Over the course of the next hour, apart from occasionally flying from one Larch top to another, it showed no sign of coming down to perform for us so we decided to leave it be. A Treecreeper was far more confiding as we returned to the car.

Another short drive soon had us at Parkend where we were immediately treated 4 Hawfinch in a treetop by the Cricket field. We hoped they might drop down to feed around the Yew trees we were close to, which apparently they do if your lucky. But alas they flew off towards the church, another of their known favoured haunts.

A short jaunt to the church brought no further sightings of Hawfinch but the sun had now broken through and was illuminating a cracking pair of Crossbills in a hedgerow. Not only had the sun broken through but the arctic blast had eased significantly.Thoughts of Goshawks displaying on thermals were too powerful to ignore.

The panoramic view from the top of New Fancy looked altogether more promising on our return. Buzzards were soaring and Ravens were cronking over the forest. These were surely good signs.

A small dot over a distant village turned into a Goshawk when viewed through the scope. Soon after a second bird appeared above the ridge to our right. This one was a bit closer and proceeded to delight the small assembly of birders by swooping and tumbling and rising again sharply, only to plunge headlong towards the trees again. A displaying male!!! Fantastic!!! But things were set to get better when another male Gos appeared to our left and this one was much closer. It initially drifted away from us slightly but then looped round and came closer... and closer... and closer. Gasps of awe interspersed with some joyous profanities were reverberating around the viewpoint as it just kept coming. These are the moments I get out of bed at silly o'clock and go out in the cold for.

Bearing in mind my modest camera equipment and blissful ignorance of how to use it properly, the views through the bins were as we say... 'crippling'!!!

What a bloody good day it had been in Gloucestershire. We'd seen everything we'd hoped for and more. We'd enjoyed the company of some familiar and some unfamiliar faces and the sun even came out in the end. There was even time to get home and catch most of the rugby.

But not to be as the day still had another little twist in store. News broke of a Glaucous Gull at Little Marlow. This was half hour from home and near enough on the way. The merest of detours and our luck was holding as the misfortunately ugly brute of a gull was still there.

Glaucous Gull- pic courtesy of Sharpy.

On the way home I grabbed a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine. I still made it for the last 20 mins of the rugby, which England won. Even QPR had managed a victory which is rarer than a Penduline Tits teeth lately. Every now and then you get a day where everything just falls into place and this had been one of them.

Short Drive-Short Speed walk-Short of Breath-Bam!!!-Short Eared Owls.

I hadn't visited the fields below Bayhurst Wood for approaching 20 years. This was back when I had a dog as an excuse to roam the countryside without feeling like I looked suspicious. I've since discovered that binoculars do the trick as well. They're not as good company but you don't have to feed them. Anyway, when I was last there with my old buddy Loftus, the nearest thing to wildlife was sheep. Lots of sheep, and tightly grazed grass. This is why I was struggling to work out where these SEOs were that were being reported. So I got away from work a bit prompt on the Friday before last, (POETS Day after all) and went to check it out. I parked at the car park for Bayhurst Wood and followed the path downhill to the bottom. As soon as I got a view of the fields through the trees, I could see that they had been transformed. Rough tussocky grassland with rushes and sedge and large clumps of native plants in winter die back. A Shorty Shangri-La no less. I'd set out with more hope than expectation but suddenly expectation was taking over.

As I entered the fields I spotted a small passerine hop up on top of a teasel. It was a stonechat. I'd never seen a stonechat in Harefield in the 27 years I've lived here. Siskins were having a pre-roost gathering on the edge of the wood. I haven't seen many siskins in Harefield either. I soon realised that there was a decent expanse of unmanaged, ungrazed land around me, so I started heading for a high point to scan from. But before I got there I was distracted by an aerial commotion.  Corvids were noisily haranguing something. Not just something. A Short Eared Owl. Carrion Crows and Jackdaws were joining forces to relentlessly mob the owl and seemed to be intent on driving it high above the treeline as if to stop it hunting. A second owl flew over me from behind and was treated to more of the same.

So the cranky crows restricted me to distant views in fading light but the joy of seeing the owls outweighed the frustration. So much so that I returned at dawn the next morning and met up with Sharpy, hoping for better views. No corvid capers this time but a bit of mist rapidly became fog and visibility was lousy. A brief and foggy view of one Shorty in flight was the best we managed. Again there were siskins and a decent number of Reed Buntings enjoying the the winter seed heads but the owls weren't tempted by such rubbish hunting conditions.

Yesterday I took an early morning trip to Fishers green with Sharpy and Ephraim on a quest to see Bittern. In the wind and showers, a year tick Water Rail was the highlight so I returned home to do my Big Garden Birdwatch. It was a bit slow in the naff weather but the female of my regular pair of Great Spotted Woodpeckers graced the peanut feeder for a while. 14 species in total. As the afternoon wore on the sun started trying to break through. The wind was still gusting but the temptation to nip down the road in search of Short Eared Owls got the better of me. Within 5 minutes of arriving in the fields I was on a Shorty. Thankfully unhassled by crows it was quartering a field near the woods. As I edged a bit closer I inadvertently put up the second owl as it was roosting on the ground in front of me.  I was treated to a breathtaking display as they demonstrated their rodent ravaging skills for over an hour.

Again a Stonechat put in an appearance as did Red Kite, Buzzard and Kestrel.

And the Owls just kept performing.

I don't very often go birding round Harefield even though I live there. It is semi-rural but it's intensively farmed and so quite naturally sterile. Isn't it amazing what happens when you just leave a bit of land alone. 'Natural' habitat takes over and 'nature' comes. Even Short Eared Owls. You've always got these cretinous oafs blathering on about how the countryside has to be "managed" or the Earth will spin off it's axis or something. Sadly us Townies are too ignorant to understand apparently. Well I'll tell you what. Insert your countryside management in your most shady of orifices. I'd rather have nature than your greed driven biodiversity disasters.

Anyway, enough of that ranting. Short Eared Owls near Home. Brilliant!!!

Happy New Year List to all you Good Folk & a Prosperous 2016 to our Hen Harriers.

Jan 1st 2016 - Bed at 00.45 up at 04.45 and on the road to Norfolk with Sharpy, Ian and Ephraim to kick start the new year list and walk off some Christmas excess. Luckily Sharpy was happy to drive as I doubted my ability to stay awake at the wheel all day.

First stop was Lynford Arboretum. It was now first light and this is as good-a-place as any to rack up a few woodland species. At this point it was a lovely winters morning with the sunrise casting an eerie glow over the frosted landscape. On a couple of rare occasions we've managed Hawfinch here but fail more often than not. However one of the first birds of the year was indeed a flyover Hawfinch and we managed to find a second one perched in a distant treetop. A great start to the year.

Distant but a great start

Sadly no Crossbills on offer today but Marsh Tit and all the usual woodland fare got the list up and running on our way to the north coast.

The big prize we were hoping for was Pallid Harrier so Flitcham was next in the sat nav. I got a sense of deja vu here as for the second time in less than a week I was subjected to a no-show from this rare and regal raptor. But we were viewing from further up Abbey Road today and the huge mixed flock of passerines in the hedgerow in front of us, although mostly Chaffinch, also contained in it's midst Brambling ,Tree Sparrow, Yellow Hammer and Reed Bunting. A Grey Partridge occasionaly revealed itself at the end of the track.

Brambling at Flitcham

A team decision was made that we needed to move on and cash in on Norfolk's bounty of species. Fresh news revealed that the 2 Rough Legged Buzzards were showing nicely at Cholsey Drying Barns, so that made the decision easier. Unfortunately they weren't by the time we got there. A couple of Buzzards were up and about but after close scrutiny we couldn't turn them into anything other than commons.

If you're in North Norfolk and you want to get species on your list then Titchwell is a must. Obviously a whole lot of other people had the same strategy as we completed several circuits of both car parks before managing to squeeze into a slightly improvised space. Myself and Ian then queued for a lifetime to order some much needed hot food and then waited through what must have been a reincarnation for it to be served. Finally, suitably sated, we made it onto the reserve. Good old Titchwell served up a further 23 species  to add to my list, including Water Pipit, Rock Pipit, Spotted Redshank Marsh Harrier and a huge raft of Scoter on the sea.

The early morning sun had long since vanished behind a solid blanket of cloud and it was now a race against the fading light to squeeze a couple more new years ticks in. Thornham was just down the road and there were reports of a flock of Twite near the car park and the lingering 3 Shorelarks towards Holme Dunes. On our arrival, 20+ Twite obligingly got up from an island in the creek and gave us a nice display. It's barely a stone's throw to the beach on the other side of the harbour where the shorelarks hang out but it's a right old stroll round the houses (although there's no houses) to get to it. In the now dying light they weren't easy to find and we began to think they'd gone to roost but we eventually stumbled across them quietly poking around in the shingle.

So dark was now winning the battle against light and that was surely that for the day. Barring a jammy Barn Owl on the lengthy, indirect walk back to the car, our listing was done for the day. That was until we got half way back and Ian called "Barn Owl" and there was an enigmatic little ghost quartering the back of the field beside us. Perfect end to the day.

So no 'rare raptor rapture' but Norfolk had provided me with a very respectable 86 species on the first day of 2016. What else will the year have in store? Rare birds I hope. Stonkingly beautiful birds I hope. Enthralling natural spectacles of any kind please.

 But most of all in 2016 I hope for significant strides forward in the campaign to salvage the last of our breeding Hen Harriers from the brink of extinction, by banning the despicably destructive so called 'sport' of Driven Grouse Shooting. Please help if you can. There's a few weeks left to sign this......

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/104441

If you're in any doubt at all that this needs doing then you just need to read this.......

2016 could be a pivotal year for our magnificent, yet relentlessly persecuted raptors. Please consider getting involved if you can. It's so easy in these days of social media to just help raise awareness. That's all we need to do.

Happy New Year.

Owl be back.

Another day off work, the sun was shining on and off and there were owls in the Heartwood Forest. I know because I saw them yesterday. I've already told you I did but I wanted to see them again.  Call me monotonous but they're owls. Short Eared Owls. I love owls.

The Shorties kept their distance today, so I spent more time enjoying them through the bins than the camera but enjoy them I did. I know I've mentioned it before but I just love owls. In fact (and I know I've mentioned this before as well) I just love birds of prey, so I was chuffed when my new Kestrel friend turned up too.

Plenty of people were out again for a stroll in the ludicrously clement weather and most seemed mercifully less excitable than yesterday . Some of them stopped to inquire what we were looking at. It was a pleasure to see their joy when we were able to point out an owl. Especially so when their kiddies started wowing and whooping and wanting to stay a bit longer to watch them. Keeps your hopes alive for the future of the planet.

Eventually the sun we've seen so little of lately, dipped below the tree line and it was time to head contentedly back to the car.

I'd watched owls hunting and I'd witnessed first hand young people that appreciated them.

Happy days.

Owl's well that ends well.

Well, after the previous day's non-eventfulness (is that a word? oh well it is now), a glorious sunrise had me grabbing my optics and heading for the local patch. Exciting birds are few and far between in my neck of the woods and there was no exception today but a leisurely circuit of Stockers Lake brought Goldeneye, Red Crested Pochards and whole load of Siskins merrily munching their way through the Alder mast.

Song thrushes were reciting their repertoires in the spring-like conditions and a Cetti's was shouting his head off from deep in the brambles. It was nice to bump into some old faces such as Gordon Cox and Camouflage Geoff.

Next up on the agenda was a rummage around the bank of the River Colne by Broadwater Lake. Quiet here but as always at this spot there were overwintering Chiffchaffs.

I was shouted at by another Cetti's but a festive Robin perched beside me and serenaded me altogether more sweetly.

"Ding dong merrily on high"

Home for a quick bite of lunch and then over to Heartwood Forest to meet Sharpy in the hope of some proper WOW factor birds. And we weren't disappointed.

Despite the many noisy children with their nearly as noisy parents and dogs, enjoying the bank holiday sunshine, the Short Eared Owls put on a show. Four birds in total came and went throughout the late afternoon.

Another bird enjoying the local vole population was a very confiding Kestrel.

So I didn't drive hundreds of miles, I didn't crawl through traffic jams, I didn't get wet and I saw owls.

What a difference a day makes!

'My Mama told me there'll be days like this'.

Got up very early. Drove to North Norfolk for Red Rumped Swallow and Pallid Harrier. Neither were there. Saw sod all of interest. Got wet a couple of times. Traffic was murder on the way home.

The end.

Oh those crumbling cookies Think I'll cheer myself up by going birding tomorrow.

Bogey Bird - The Crag Martin Saga.

A couple of years ago a Crag Martin graced the cliffs of Flamborough Head for a few days. With news of it going to roost on the Friday evening, myself and Dave Johnson hurriedly made plans for a 4.00am meet on Saturday morning. As we were well on our way through the 4 and a half hour drive, the pager confirmed that our bird was still present and correct and feeding along the cliff face. Hands were rubbed together and a surge of adrenaline had me sub-consciously applying more pressure to the accelerator pedal. I didn't think this would stand up as mitigating circumstances in a court of law, so I duly accepted the resulting fine and 3 points. Anyway; we arrived at the Flamborough car park to be told that the Martin had just flown down coast a little and was now on view from the next car park down. Back in the car and off to the next car park. Probably as we were parking it seems, the bird was lost to view and never seen again.

Consolation prizes for our efforts were a Tawny Pipit, a decent fry up and the privilege of spending 10 minutes in the company of birding legend Martin Garner. Truly saddened to hear recently of his health problems. As nice a man as you'd ever meet.

So when the extraordinary news broke on a recent Sunday afternoon, of one such Crag Martin putting on an aerial display around Chesterfield's crooked spire, I was struck with a mixture of emotions. Could I get there before dark without further speeding fines? Realistically not. Would it stick until the following weekend? Highly unlikely. How soon could I get a day off work? The diary said Wednesday at the earliest. Would it still be there then? How long's a piece of string? How much did I want to see this bird? A lot. Quite frustrating.

However, the bird was still entertaining crowds of birders and intrigued locals on Tuesday afternoon. A quick phone call to beg for a short notice day off on Wednesday (thanks boss) and arrangements were made with Sharpy, Bren and Dave.

We were heading North on the M1 by 6.00am and hopes were high. We were slightly concerned but not alarmed when the bird hadn't been seen by the time we arrived, as it's behaviour had been predictably unpredictable. And so the waiting game began. And we waited and waited. Some of the team were on deadlines so we had to be away by midday-ish.  Not a sign. A skein of Pink Foots over was as exciting as it got.

Pink Foots over the crooked but not so craggy spire.

The Martin never appeared all day so we could only conclude that it had expired or set off back south from whence it came. This was becoming a bogey bird for me, and for Dave for that matter.

When I received a phone call from Bren the next morning saying "you won't believe this but the Martin's there", well he was right, I didn't believe it. But I soon realised he wasn't on a wind up. Regular reports throughout Thursday and Friday meant that arrangements needed making for Saturday. But I had a lot of stuff I needed to do on Saturday and the forecast said a storm would sweep across the country early morning. If it weren't for the forecast I would have said "stuff the chores, I'm owed a Crag Martin" but weighing up the odds of actually seeing the bird in such conditions and a number of things I really needed to get done, I took the sensible decision to opt out.

I woke early on Saturday morning. Around 4.45am, so I made a cuppa and went into the garden for a smoke. I looked up at a completely cloudless starlit sky. Not a sign of a storm brewing, so I decided to check the latest forecast for Chesterfield area on line.  The storm had been held up over the Pennines  and wouldn't hit that side of Derbyshire until 10.00am earliest. I knew the boys were meeting at 6.00am which would give a window of maybe a couple of hours for the bird to feed before the weather struck. It would also give a window for me to text Sharpy saying "wait for me, I'm coming. See you at 6". Oh dear, what about all that sensibility? Well sod the sensibility. How much did I want see a Crag Martin? A lot.

So 5 of us squeezed into my car. Myself, Sharpy, Bren, Ian B and Ephraim. Ephraim had taken the precaution of setting 2 alarms to avoid a repeat of the previous week's no show. Belts and braces! I take back everything I said.

Again there was no sightings by the time we arrived but we remained at least semi-confident. But once again the hands on the crooked spire clock ticked round and round and round to no avail. The weather seemed to be closing in and the last sparks of hope were dying out rapidly. The vast majority of the decent assemblage of twitchers seemed resigned to failure but like ourselves decided to stick it out until the imminent storm extinguished all hope. The local Gregs bakery quickly became very popular as a long queue of despondent looking binocular clad people began to spread down the street, seeking comfort in some good hot unhealthy nosh.

While enjoying our unhealthy nosh in the square overlooking the churchyard, we attempted morale boosting conversations with fellow birders. Things like, "if we saw the bird every time it would be boring. We might as well take up train spotting. It's the uncertainty that makes it exciting". As we were desperately trying to convince ourselves that we weren't gutted that we weren't going to see a Crag Martin, again for some, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ian Bennell gesticulating furiously from the churchyard. What's up with him I thought. He can't have the Martin. He was beckoning excitedly and pointing skywards. He bloody had got the Martin. For a nanosecond I saw it disappear round the back of the church. As I shouted something like "it's here" I was already running back to the church. Suddenly everyone was running from every direction. The queue outside Gregs became a churchbound stampede in an instant. People were audibly cheering with excitement. Myself and Ephraim ran round the back of the church where it seemed to be favouring and readied our cameras. Well that was a laugh. Anyone who managed good shots of this bird I salute you. It was faster than slippery shit off a shovel smothered in shitproof grease. This thing was incredible. Like most photographers, a mix of profanities and laughter was pouring from my mouth as we tried in vain to focus and get a shot away on this avian bullet. In fact a bullet would be easier as at least it goes straight. A couple of my feeble attempts below.

Wow how the mood had changed. From despondent resignation to sheer jubilation, en mass, in an instant. Myself and Ephraim high-fived each other with such enthusiasm that I'm sure I saw Ephraim wince with pain and I'm not sure I managed to conceal my own. This is why we suffer the disappointments. Moments like this. So I'm still not tempted to take up train spotting anytime soon.

I'm happy to say that although Dave wasn't able to join us on the Saturday, he took a train up on the Monday and after an equally painful wait he eventually got his just reward as well.