Today was a truly fateful day. Seeing me about the leave the house to begin local patch visit number 684, my 12-year-old daughter asked me, “Daddy, what do you hope to see today?” I didn’t think, the words “Yellow-browed Warbler” seemed obvious. “It’s a rare bird in Oxfordshire but there have been lots on the east coast and one or two might stop off inland. But I’ll take anything.”
Once out in Warneford Meadow, the overhead migration was obvious. Not huge numbers of birds, but first light saw Redwings and a few Meadow Pipits and Eurasian Skylarks flying overhead, beneath a light cover of cloud. As the cloud broke up and was replaced by blue skies and sunshine, Barn Swallows started moving. Nearly everything was heading south-west.
I checked the bushes around the meadow and then crossed the golf course. The large areas of scrub near the public footpath can attract migrant birds, but nothing prepared me for when I found myself very briefly locking eyes with what I felt sure was a Marsh Tit. There has been only one previous record of Marsh Tit in the last six years, this was not a bird that I wanted to let go. A few nervous minutes passed before it appeared again, this time giving great views for a few seconds in the scrub. Just like the first record, this Marsh Tit was very mobile, looking like a migrant passing through.
Chasing 40
Delighted with what was already a superb morning, I continued onwards, checking the Lye Valley woods, where a Eurasian Treecreeper was calling, and Churchill Meadow. By the time I was at the top of the Lye Valley, I had recorded 39 species, my best total of the year so far. But I also noted that I had been let down by some common species that I record on most patch visits: Blackcap, Stock Dove, European Herring and Lesser Black-backed Gull, in particular. With early morning gull movement over and Blackcaps becoming much less common by early October, I figured my best chance to get to 40 species today would be to walk back towards Warneford Meadow to try to add Stock Dove to the day list. For only the second time ever, I turned around and walked back across my patch and past the Churchill Hospital. How fate hangs on these small decisions.
A flock of 4 Great Cormorants passed overhead, taking me to 40 species for the visit and justifying my retraced steps. The small Boundary Brook valley is full of elder trees. Stock Doves sometimes perch up here, warming themselves in the early morning sun. I paused on the footpath by the hospital, scanning the elder trees. A small flock of Western House Martins flew over, and the first Eurasian Siskins of the year passed overhead, calling.
There is a movement in a nearby willow tree. It is a warbler. “That looks small,” I think to myself and I raise my binoculars:
The huge supercilium and the double wing bars that adorn this tiny green and white warbler, nearly knock me off my feet. “Yellow-browed Warbler!” my brain screams, as a wave of adrenaline washes over me. I fire off a few pictures as the bird pauses on the edge of the willow, a tiny visitor from Siberia:
The Lye Valley’s first-ever Yellow-browed Warbler then flies into the denser cover of the valley. Despite the intense levels of adrenaline, I start recording bird calls, just in case it calls. Fortunately, it does:
A few minutes later the Yellow-browed Warbler flies back to the willow tree where I first saw it, before returning again to the cover of the valley. I wait another fifteen minutes, but see or hear no further sign of the bird. I use this time to put the news out on the local Whatsapp group. Unfortuntely I did not see Stock Dove, but 43 species in a couple of hours in Headington is a fine haul.
Dream patch find
Yellow-browed Warbler is a dream patch find. Rare enough in the county to attract interest, but common enough nationally to be a viable target for local patch watchers. This was the first Yellow-browed Warbler in Oxfordshire this year and about the 26th ever, as per the county annual reports. The recent increase in records of this species is obvious:
In other times, I would have spent the rest of today drunk on champagne, celebrating a superb patch find. These days, I’ll just be smiling all weekend. After all, there is always tomorrow morning.
Good weather to find migrating birds inland, is not good weather. The wind must swing around to the compass’s cooler side, ideally the east or north-east. The clouds need to roll in and frequent showers help ground birds that would otherwise pass high overhead, undetected. Good weather for cycling is rather different. Light winds, moderate to warm temperatures and dry roads are the cyclist’s dream. So, if you want to find lots of good birds by bike in Oxfordshire, you need to be prepared to brave the elements. Or see nothing.
I am very experienced at seeing nothing. I did Big Days in 2017 and 2018 that saw glorious, hot sunny days with blue skies, but with precious few birds. We crawled to a total of 104 species in 2017 and 106 species in 2018.
Ben Sheldon, Thomas Miller and I first discussed doing an Oxfordshire Big Day early in 2023. This Big Day would be different. We would not use a car, but would rather see how many species of bird we could record in Oxfordshire, just using our bikes. Unfortunately, I was unavailable at a family wedding on the best date that they could both make in late April 2023. Ben and Thomas spent a full day in the field and saw an incredible 112 species as a team, all by bike. This was only just short of the all-time record of 117 species, set by Wayne Paes, Tom Wickens and Manoj Noir on 9th May 2021. We were sure that the record could be broken by a team using just bikes, providing the weather cooperated. We agreed to set aside the weekend of April 27th and 28th for our 2024 Big Day attempt and would make a decision on which day to use based on the weather forecast.
The forecast leading up to the weekend changed on a daily basis. Like most of the spring of 2024, it would be cool to cold. The winds were forecast to swing around to the north-east on Friday evening. Cloud cover was guaranteed. And there would be rain. How much rain was forecast seemed to vary between the different weather forecasts. All agreed there that would some light rain at first on Saturday, but that Sunday morning would be dominated by a heavy band of rain. We agreed Saturday looked best and made plans for a Big Day on Saturday 27th April. Then on Friday night, the forecast changed, predicting a very wet end of the day, as well as the beginning. We gritted our teeth and decided to stick with Saturday. Sunday looked even worse.
I opened my front door at 04:15am on Saturday morning. The petrichor was strong in my nostrils, and it was beginning to drizzle. I could smell the rain. I cycled down to The Plain roundabout, at the bottom of the High Street in Oxford, and met up with Ben and Thomas. At just after 4:30am we began the hour-long ride out to the Chilterns. The rain caught us before we had left Oxford. By the time we passed Stadhampton, some 10km/6 miles from Oxford, we all had soaking wet feet. I had hoped that the moment that I became soaked through would happen much later in the day than this. By the time we began the long hill up past Watlington and onto the Chiltern escarpment, we were all drenched and the temperature was only just above freezing.
Watlington Hill is a well-known climb amongst local cyclists. The first section is quite steep and favours the stronger, lighter riders. Everyone goes up it at their own pace. Thomas led the way, being a strong cyclist and a good climber, I followed next, followed by Ben, laden with a rucksack containing a small scope. There is always a nice feeling of satisfaction on completing the climb. Thomas and I waited at the top and Ben cycled up towards us, but with some horrifying news. Halfway up the hill, a Long-eared Owl had flown across the road in front of him. Climbing Watlington Hill in the pitch dark and freezing rain is painful enough. To miss what could be the bird of the day, and so early in our Big Day attempt, was excruciating. As all three of us had not seen the owl, we could not count it in our team total. Things went from bad to worse, as our first stop, for a scarce local breeding bird, was a failure and we did not see or hear it. Things then went from worse to downright dangerous. On top of the Chiltern escarpment, the cold north-easterly wind was strong, chilling our wet bodies to the bone. I have never felt so cold and so wet on a bike.
We cycled to Cowlease Wood to get some woodland species at dawn, but by the time we arrived, Thomas was going hypothermic. He was shaking like a leaf and was unable to use his hands to change from cycling to walking shoes. Ben had an emergency down jacket in his backpack and gave it to Thomas to try to raise his body temperature. Hypothermia commonly causes impaired cognitive function. I could tell that Thomas was beginning to lose it, because a short while later he said that he thought he had heard a Redpoll flight call.
We began birding, whilst I tried to keep the thoughts of hypothermia from my mind. I tried to use eBird to record the species that we saw, but I could not feel or use my fingers. Birding was also made difficult by the sheer number of Firecrests singing. This species has dramatically increased in the county over the last twenty years. It was hard to hear anything behind the curtain of constant Firecrest song. Then Ben said “Redpoll!” Was he going hypothermic too? I tried to blank out the high-pitched screaming from the Firecrests and there, in a rare quiet moment, was a classic Redpoll trill. A singing male Lesser Redpoll, and even better, a flyover Siskin too. Two species that we had not anticipated recording in late April. Singing Mistle Thrush, Nuthatch and Treecreeper also added three species onto our list that can be tricky on Big Days. As it turned out, we found at least 10 Lesser Redpolls in the woods, including several singing males.
We cycled back to our scarce local breeder, who finally showed itself and then we began the ride to the Oxon Downs in the south of the county. The rain had stopped, the cycling warmed us up and we were seeing birds. What could possibly go wrong?
Despite smashing into a submerged pothole and puncturing my front tyre, our visit to the Downs was productive. There are not many pairs of Stonechat or Meadow Pipit breeding in the county and a Tree Pipit was a real quality bonus, as was a Wheatear and a flyover Cuckoo. However, our misses here balanced out the positives. Despite much scanning of an appropriate area, we could not pick out a Stone Curlew and we did not see Grey Partridge either. We met up with Tom Wickens, who had provided us with much invaluable information beforehand, was doing his own personal Big Day by bike and was carrying his own ‘scope. Incredibly, he was braving the sub-zero windchill and regular rain showers in shorts:
From the Downs we headed back into the flatlands and visited Appleford Gravel Pits. Open water brought a rapid increase in our trip list with a few Swifts and all the hirundines present, plus Little Grebe and our only Grey Wagtail of the day. A flooded field between Didcot and Abingdon looked superb and produced our first waders of the day: 3 Little Ringed Plovers, a Green Sandpiper and a first-summer Ringed Plover, expertly picked out by Ben and Thomas. A fine male Yellow Wagtail took us to #84 species, just after midday.
Then there was the second-longest ride of the day, to Farmoor Reservoir, where news had reached us of Little Gull and Arctic Tern passage. Sure enough, both species were on F1, three fabulous summer-plumaged adult Little Gulls and at least 2 Arctic Terns, both great species to pick up on a Big Day:
The café at Farmoor provided much-needed hot food and coffee, before we walked over to the Pinkhill hide and the River Thames. 4 Common Sandpipers were on the bank of F1 and 2 Snow Geese flew over, a feral surprise. There were no Kingfishers visible from the hide, but one was calling and briefly glimpsed on the Thames, our only Kingfisher of the day. A singing Garden Warbler at Pinkhilll was species #93, as we left Farmoor for Wytham Woods. Could we get to Otmoor with 100 species already seen? If so, we knew we would be on course for a great day total.
Despite it being after 2pm we had not seen or heard a Green Woodpecker, so it was a relief to hear one yaffling at Wytham, where Marsh Tit and Little Egret were also added.
We skirted around the north part of Port Meadow, but failed to pick up any Cattle Egrets, despite some being present all week. We met Adam Hartley at the Port Meadow floods, in a very efficient five-minute stop where we added 2 Great White Egrets, Shelduck and our only 2 Dunlin of the day.
2 Ring-necked Parakeets in Marston Meadows became species #100, as we began the cycle ride out to our final destination: Otmoor. We were on target.
We started on the Oddington side, scanning the flood field for waders, ducks and gulls. I had become aware that it was very reassuring to have one of the country’s leading gull identification experts with you on a Big Day. If there was anything slightly white-headed or immature in the gull department, we just pointed Thomas Miller at it and waited for an identification to come out. So, I was completely shocked when, as he scanned the Otmoor floods, he declared “What sort of gull is that?!” I was flabbergasted. It must be NEW TO SCIENCE! Further examination revealed a first-summer Black-headed Gull, half a mile away, with the sun behind it and mostly hidden in vegetation. These amateurs, eh?
The flood field was very productive. Wigeon and Pintail were new ducks; Grey Plover, Curlew, Black-tailed Godwit and Redshank were new waders. An unringed Eurasian Crane was present and there was a Barn Owl perched in a hedge.
By 7pm we were on the Otmoor bridleway, having seen 108 species, more than either of my car-based Big Days. We were now trying to get as many species on the list before a heavy band of rain moved in and dampened down bird activity. We saw the Otmoor Barnacle Goose, finally connected with a calling Bullfinch, before a Peregrine became species#111. We walked up to the screens and added Pochard, a booming Bittern and a Marsh Harrier. It took a while, but eventually we heard a squealing Water Rail and at least 2 Grasshopper Warblers began reeling in the carpark field.
As the light went and the rain started we were on 116 species, including two species of feral geese (Snow and Barnacle) and an unringed Eurasian Crane. We had not heard or seen a Snipe yet, so walked back towards the Wetlands Watch hide. Eventually, in little light, we heard a Snipe singing, and then one drumming too. This species took us level with the 2021 record total of 117 species. Then a superb end-of-day magical moment was provided by Thomas finding a Short-eared Owl quartering The Closes. Species #118 for the day, the most species seen in a day in Oxfordshire and all recorded by bike and on foot!
Could we go further? In total darkness and pouring rain, the day ended as it had begun. We cycled back into Oxford in the rain. We gave the Lye Valley Tawny Owls a few minutes to call, but it was always a long-shot in the heavy rain. We finished, tired but very happy after 142km/92 miles cycled and some 16km/10 miles walked, on 118 species. With Ben’s Long-eared Owl flypast and Tom Wickens hearing a Tawny Owl on the way home, 120 species were recorded in Oxfordshire on 27th April 2024 by just the four of us, using only bikes.
One of these men is not called Tom, but between them they have seen 120 species in Oxfordshire in day. Left-to-right: Ben Sheldon, Tom Bedford, Tom Miller & Tom Wickens. Otmoor at dusk, 27th April 2024.
For comparison, a combined across-county effort by birders in neighbouring Buckinghamshire on the same day, produced 124 species, only four more species than our small group of bike-powered birders in Oxfordshire. We did not see Cattle Egret, Red-crested Pochard, Stone Curlew, Grey Partridge, Hobby, Sparrowhawk, Redstart or Whinchat in our total, so there is still scope for the record to be extended. If the record is broken again, those involved may have to endure similar weather. May they suffer less than we did!
Many thanks to everyone who helped us out with information and scouting, both before and during the Big Day, and the support from the local birding community. Ben has helpfully provided the list for the day:
(Well spotted, Linnet does appear twice on this list! One of the entries should read “Jackdaw”, so the overall total is not affected)
Whilst at work last week, I popped outside of the building to take some meter readings, only to find that there was a flock of 15 Ring-necked Parakeets in the tree at the back. A few local birders have suspected that the parakeet roost that held over 40 birds last winter in north Oxford, had moved into east Oxford. Ring-necked Parakeets seem like much more of an east Oxford kind of bird, so it felt appropriate to see them on this side of town. But where was the roost site?
I saw the flock of 15 birds fly over the building and leave to the east, but I lost sight of them behind the local houses. Intrigued, I kept an eye open at dusk on the following few evenings and discovered that a large flock of parakeets routinely gathered in an alder tree on Henley Avenue, visible from my workplace. There were a lot of birds. On December 12th, I counted at least 56 Ring-necked Parakeets in the top of the tree:
Birds arrived from about 15:30 in small groups and gradually worked their way up to the top of the tree, calling noisily. At 16:25, in near-darkness, the entire flock left and flew to roost in a couple of tall conifers in the back garden of a house on the corner of Florence Park Road, a short distance away. Both the pre-roost tree and the roosting trees are marked on this map:
I think this is the highest count of Ring-necked Parakeets in Oxfordshire to date. Birds have been breeding in the city for a few years and from the numbers present at this roost site, the local population is clearly doing well.
Despite being an introduced species, and one that may present some challenges for some native bird species, I always enjoy seeing and hearing parakeets. They are brightly-coloured and charismatic birds. The pictures below, taken in London, show the faint pink neckband on male birds that gives the species their other common name, Rose-ringed Parakeet. The tail is blue on the upper surface and yellow underneath and their grey-blue irises are also pretty cool:
After the lull in migratory bird movement that is June and July – a period that I just about get through with gritted teeth – August brings more hope. The species that I target are Yellow Wagtail, Spotted Flycatcher and Tree Pipit. None are guaranteed in urban Oxford, but most years see one or two records of some of these species. Passerine migration kicked in early in the Lye Valley this year, with small numbers of juvenile Willow Warblers and the first Lesser Whitethroat of the year all being recorded in the first week of August. The first of the scarce August trio fell on 9th August, when a Yellow Wagtail flew over Warneford Meadow, calling loudly. There was then another quiet period, although large roving flocks of Tits, Chiffchaffs, Blackcaps and Willow Warblers kept up interest. Almost as soon as we entered the second half of August, I struck patch gold. A chunky-looking brown finch was flushed by a dog walker on Warneford Meadow. The movement and the call instantly attracted attention: a hard “tic, tic, tic“, a call like nothing else I had heard on the meadow in over 500 visits. Fortunately the bird perched for a few seconds on a distant oak:
A Corn Bunting! Almost as soon as I said the words, it took off and flew strongly south, over the golf course and away:
Although Corn Bunting now breed quite close to the city, records from within the ring road are exceptionally rare. There are no Oxford city records of Corn Bunting on the OOS database or on eBird. Asking around within the local birding community revealed that the last confirmed record of Corn Bunting in Oxford city was a breeding record in 1980, some 43 years ago! (Bayliss (1982) per Ben Sheldon). Ian Lewington commented that this looks like a juvenile bird, perhaps engaging post-breeding dispersal. Many thanks to Ian and Ben for their input.
My adrenaline levels had only just recovered, when two days later, on Saturday 19th August, I heard a loud clear flight call, the classic high-pitched, buzzy “tzeep“, from a migrating Tree Pipit. Looking up revealed two pipits flying south-west, not that high above trees of Warneford Meadow. I used to try to photograph flyover migrants, but in many ways a recording of the flight call is more definitive evidence of the identification. The challenge of recording Tree Pipits is that they go over quickly and don’t call constantly. As soon as I heard the first flight call, I hit record on my phone, but by the time the birds called again they were too distant for my phone to pick up the call clearly.
Nevertheless, I was stoked, the second of the August trio had fallen and this was the earliest Tree Pipit I have recorded here by two days, plus the first record of more than one bird. Overall, this is the seventh Tree Pipit record at this site over the last four years, some details of the other records are here. Now for Spotted Flycatcher to complete the set!
Great to see the satanic red eyes of an adult Night Heron in Oxfordshire today, especially as the first wild bird for the county in recent times was only identified from photographs on Otmoor this spring and was not seen by anyone else. This bird was found at the southern end of Peep O’Day Lane, near Abingdon, by Tom Wickens, this morning, and was a popular draw for local birders.
Richard Rae has known Dave Lowe for a long time. Richard came down to visit Dave in Oxford on Saturday and, fortunately, said that he would like to try to see the Common Cranes on Otmoor. They duly came across a pair of Common Cranes on the reserve and then began to scan the area known as Big Otmoor for other birds.
That was when Richard exclaimed, “Am I going mad?“. Dave, immediately responded “Yes“. Dave has known Richard for a long time, he could confidently answer, without knowing any of the context of Richard’s rhetorical question. Richard followed up with “Is that a Stilt?“, whereupon Dave began taking Richard’s questions much more seriously. For there was indeed, a fabulous Black-winged Stilt, feeding on one of the pools close to the main bridleway:
The rain on Saturday afternoon seems to have brought this migrating bird down to feed in the wet pools and marshes of Otmoor, but it was keen to keep moving. After a short period of time, Dave and Richard watched the Black-winged Stilt depart, flying up into the cloud base, heading north. Perhaps the low cloud deterred it from continuing its journey, for fifteen minutes later it was back, on the same pool. Even better, I was just about to arrive on Otmoor. The Stilt then moved to feed further away, where the video below begins, before returning once again to its favourite pool, the final few scenes on the video, which are taken through quite a lot of reeds:
Richard “The Stilt” Rae (right) and Dave Lowe (centre) being photobombed by Wayne “Spotted Crake” Paes.
Stilts are not only unmistakable and beautiful birds, but are also very rare birds in Oxfordshire. Ian Lewington, the county recorder, passed on the fact that this was the fifth Oxfordshire record (and the eighth bird) after one at Shipton Quarry in June 1993; three at Radley in June 1993; one at Pit 60 in April 2012 and two there in May 2017. So, all in all, a quality find from team Lowe-Rae. Unfortunately, the Black-winged Stilt departed overnight and was not seen the following morning. This bird continues a remarkable run of rare birds on Otmoor this spring, following the long-staying Spotted Crake and the very brief Night Heron. A long-staying Purple Heron would be much appreciated next. It would help bury the trauma of the Blenheim Purple Heron.
This morning, a glorious still, warm morning under blue skies, saw me undertake the first of two annual bird surveys along the River Thame near Cuddesdon, my old patch. The first surprise was a pair of small dark duck flying towards me, one with a huge pale supercilium. Desperately hoping that these were Cuddesdon’s first Garganey, I got onto them in the binoculars only to discover that they were in fact a pair of Mandarin Duck. A good record, although this species has bred on the river here in the recent past.
The second major surprise was the first Cuddesdon record of Goosander, a female with five young were on the river. Goosander only began breeding in Oxfordshire in 2020, at nearby Waterstock. I contacted Nick Marriner and we compared notes. He had last seen the birds at Waterstock, a female with five young of about the same size, a few days ago. We agreed that it was more likely that these were the Waterstock birds relocating, rather than another breeding pair of Goosander in the county – but both hoped to be wrong about this! Here are the birds at Waterstock on 21st April:
Celebrations back on @RiverThameCT with Goosander back successfully breeding at Waterstock Local Wildlife Site. 3rd year in a row 🍾🍾👏👏 pic.twitter.com/24sfKmNu4F
There were good numbers of singing Reed Warblers in the margins of the river, lots of Whitethroat were back and singing, as was a single Lesser Whitethroat. There were no Kingfisher or Cuckoo on this visit, but I almost trod on this huge Mute Swan nest, temporarily unattended, although the pair quickly returned when they saw me, and I retreated quietly. Seven eggs!
Wayne Paes was on the main bridleway at Otmoor, at dusk on Tuesday. The Otmoor soundscape is stunning in spring, with booming Bitterns, drumming Snipe, reeling Grasshopper Warblers and the loud calls of displaying Lapwing and Curlew. Wayne decided that he would try to record some of this atmosphere on his phone, thinking that he could use it to create an interesting and personal alarm tone. As he began recording, a loud, almost electronic, call rang out from the marsh in front of him: “whip – whip“. Wayne had just found a Spotted Crake. Then nothing for about 5 minutes, before the bird began calling, this time incessantly. It was indeed, a Spotted Crake.
For a long time I thought that I had seen Spotted Crake in Oxfordshire. I could recall a juvenile bird at a tiny reservoir one September, in the far north of the county, that fed on the shoreline in perfect autumn sunshine, even coming right out into the open on occasion:
However, when I entered all my sightings onto eBird a few years ago, this site, Wormleighton Reservoir, came up as being in Warwickshire. The very far northern tip of Oxfordshire meets Northamptonshire to the east and Warwickshire to the west. Turns out that Wormleighton Reservoir is about 500 meters west of the county line (Oxfordshire is in green on the map below):
This meant that I was especially grateful to Wayne for finding the Spotted Crake on Otmoor on Tuesday. At dusk on Wednesday, I made my way to the main bridleway on Otmoor and joined a great bunch of local birders: Wayne, Terry, Pete Roby, Ben Sheldon and Conor MacKenzie, amongst others. The previous day the Spotted Crake had begun calling at 20:47, although Ben Sheldon, ever-the-scientist, pointed out it that should start slightly later today, as there were two minutes more daylight than the day before. He was right. And the bird followed exactly the same pattern of singing as on Tuesday: two calls, as if to warm up, then five minutes of silence, before beginning calling constantly, once every second or so from 21:00:
Using only my phone, I recorded a few other night-singing species whilst we were admiring the sound of the singing Spotted Crake. Here is an audio-montage of Otmoor at dusk in late April, complete with Spotted Crake. It is a fabulous place:
Warneford Meadow, a warm, grey mid-November morning. One minute I’m wondering about the earliest singing Song Thrush I’ve heard by about four weeks. The next, I glance up, and there pure white against the evenly grey sky, is a flying swan:
Or as I put it at the time: “OMG, there’s a f******g swan!”
Mute Swan is a rare bird up here, where we have no open water. I’ve recorded more than twice as many Tree Pipits (5), as I have Mute Swans (2), in the last four years.
In these situations, I reach straight for my camera. The detail on flying birds it can pick up will be much greater than I will see, even with binoculars. I fired off a dozen or so pictures, then moved back to binoculars to watch the swan continue north-east, over the Churchill Hospital and away over Headington and out of sight. Was it the way the head and bill profile appeared long and smooth in the camera viewfinder that made a voice in my head say “that could be a Whooper?” Or maybe it was just the time of year? Either way, as I reached down to check the pictures on the back of my camera, I knew the identity of this bird was about to be resolved. I looked at my first picture of the bird and zoomed straight in on the head. It was a Whooper Swan!
It had the head profile of a ski-ramp, long and smooth, blending seamlessly into the forehead. Some yellow was just about visible on the bill. To me, the underside of the bill and the head appear pretty flat and in line with the underside of the neck in flying Mute Swans. Whereas in Whooper Swans the head bulges lower down, beneath the line of the neck in flight. This was very apparent in the field and in the pictures, above and below.
A Whooper Swan, over Headington – a record so unexpected, that it was not even on my fantasy list of potential new bird species! This is up there with the other great Lye Valley flyover records, Bar-tailed Godwit (April 2020) and Great White Egret (March 2022). These moments make local patch birding so rewarding. What next?!
The eBird list from today is here, a Woodcock flushed from Churchill Meadow was also notable.
Let’s start with the good news: I am going to survive this. The bad news is that I had a terrible bike accident two weeks ago. I crashed on a high-speed descent and sustained serious soft tissue injuries that required 9 days in hospital and two rounds of surgery, including a skin graft on my right thigh. I am eternally grateful to my cycling companions (Michelle, Andy Last and Ben Sheldon) for administering first aid in pretty traumatic circumstances whilst we waited for the ambulance to arrive.
Once the surgeons at the John Radcliffe in Oxford had finished their work, there was a five-day wait to ensure that my skin graft had taken. The vacuum dressings could not be removed during this period, so this was a straight five-day wait in a hospital bed.
As I was unable to move or get up, I was fortunate to have a bed next to a window. The days blurred into each other, I spent hours alternating between watching clouds and trying to nap to fight the crushing sleep deprivation of being in hospital, when you are woken every two hours to have your vital signs assessed.
But if you can see the sky, then you can see birds. A routine began to emerge. I began keeping a daily e-bird list of the species that I could identify from my hospital bed. The hospital has a large Feral Pigeon population, these and the local Woodpigeons were the commonest species, along with Red Kites and Crows. Twice a Grey Heron flew slowly overhead, and once a Little Egret passed right over my side of the building, black legs and yellow feet, trailing behind it. It gave me pleasure. I smiled.
I was allowed to keep my window open, so sometimes could hear bird calls. Dawn is very early in June, but not as early as the nurses and their medication rounds. I heard Blackbirds singing, Wrens calling and Swifts screaming. One morning, at about 4:30am, I heard a singing Chiffchaff in the dawn. I was transported back to happier times, hearing this species announcing that spring was here. These connections with the outside world, and between my past and my present were incredibly therapeutic. When you are trapped in a hospital bed, anything that takes you to another place or time is very precious.
The staff and surgeons in the hospital were fantastic and I am expected to make a full recovery, though my leg may never quite look the same. To every person who visited me in hospital – thank you, it means more to me than you will ever know.
So, here I sit, in my garden on a hot summer’s evening, with Dave Lowe. My leg is in a brace, I’m forbidden from bending it for two weeks, but can walk with crutches. Above us, some form of aerial insect hatching event is taking place, There are several hundred gulls circling above Headington, flycatching. Swifts join them, as does the occasional opportunistic Red Kite. I scan through the gulls, beautifully lit against a blue sky. As always, most are Lesser Black-backs, with a few Herring and Black-headed Gulls in with them. Then I find myself checking for Mediterranean Gull, dreaming of Yellow-legged Gull. I smile. It’s going to be OK.
