Out of the blue

Shetland 3: rarer species

October 22, 2019December 10, 2019

Shetland is a fantastic place to see birds from all over the world. We saw birds from North America, Russia, Siberia and from Mediterranean Europe. All in one week. This is one of the reasons that Shetland attracts birders every autumn. You never know what you may see and it could have come from just about anywhere on the planet. And that very realisation is exciting every single morning and keeps one’s interest up throughout the day. That and caffeine. They are my equal favourite drugs.

This blog post documents some of the rarer bird species that we saw in Shetland in early October 2019. First, two American waders with very similar breeding distributions, Semipalmated Sandpiper and American Golden Plover:

A juvenile Semipalmated Sandpiper was found on the beach at Grutness, south Mainland, on 28th September and was still present on our first full day, October 4th. It was part of a small wader flock that also contained Dunlin, Sanderling, Ringed Plover. It was noticeably smaller than all those species:

Dunlin (left) and Semipalmated Sandpiper (right)

We had great views of the bird, a quite long-billed individual, in early evening sunlight.

Palmation alert! The partial webbing between the front three toes is visible here. This feature is only present on this species and Western Sandpiper.

It is not easy being small. Here the **Semipalmated Sandpiper** is taking evasive action to avoid a fast-moving juvenile **Ringed Plover**. So fast, that the plover is a blur even at 1/1250 of a second exposure. On the sandpiper, the dark centres to the upper two rows of scapulars create a dark band on the upperparts, visible here from behind. The pale fringes to these feathers are narrow, so that there are none of the strong white mantle and scapular lines seen on Little Stint.

The Semipalmated Sandpiper was a juvenile bird, that remained for two days after we saw it. It seems a fair bet that this bird was hatched in the North American Arctic in the summer and was then was caught up in an easterly moving airflow which brought it to Shetland.

The other North American wader species that we saw was an adult American Golden Plover. This bird arrived at Cullivoe in north Yell on 1st September. We caught up with it on 9th October. It is widely assumed that adult American birds are more likely to have crossed the Atlantic the previous autumn as juvenile birds. They have then remained on the wrong side of the pond, presumably associating with European Golden Plovers.

We went to see the bird on Yell, but without much real hope of locating it. There is a lot of suitable habitat and a lot of Golden Plover flocks. We were scanning through a large flock on the crest of a hill when Dave located a summer plumaged plover at the bottom of the valley. It was distant at first, but even at long range the white supercilium and long white flank markings were visible:

The plover flock was then spooked (not by me Dave!) and took flight. Fortunately for us, they flew straight at us and landed in the field in front of us:

Here, even though it was a bit dark for really nice pictures, the ‘scope views were fabulous. The long wings, extending over the tail were visible, and we could appreciate the smaller size and slimmer build. The black extended onto the undertail coverts and the white shawl expanded into two prominent white areas, which were especially visible when the bird was viewed head-on. The overall white pattern reminded me of a judge’s wig:

Second, a tale of two Stonechats. Both from the east, one possibly from a long way east: Siberian and Stejneger’s Stonechats:

Image © British Birds, May 2011 with my text added

“It’s behind you!” Mark, Andy and Jason at Brake, Mainland.

Our first Siberian Stonechat played cat and mouse for a while. After 45 minutes searching, we had returned to the car for food when news broke that it had been relocated in the oat field, seen on the left in the picture above. It remained distant and elusive, spending the majority of its time on the ground feeding, only sitting up occasionally:

Siberian Stonechat, *maurus*. Males have largely black underwing coverts, but females less so and this feature overlaps with European birds.

Later in the week, we saw another stonechat species on Unst. Originally identified as a Siberian Stonechat, this bird is now suspected to be a Stejneger’s Stonechat, potentially the fourth for Britain. It was even more distant than the Siberian Stonechat. It appeared darker, especially on the upperparts. The white throat was clearly demarked from the orange underparts, rendering it slightly Whinchat-like.

The inner underwing coverts were extensively black, much more so than the Siberian Stonechat at Brake, so presumably this bird is a male:

The rump is a key feature and through the ‘scope we could easily make out the deep apricot colouration. Making out markings on the rump was harder. I nearly captured a picture of the bird in flight, see below, but as the bird was pretty distant it is a miracle we have any pictures at all:

This bird was trapped and ringed two days after we saw it, so there should be some DNA confirmation of its identity before too long.

Finally, three birds from southern Europe, again with arguably similar breeding distributions. All three of these species breed in Mediterranean Europe and winter further south, in Africa or the Middle East. None should be on the Northern Islands in October:

The European Bee-eater was discovered on 29th September, the Short-toed Lark on 4th October and Western Bonelli’s Warbler on 5th October. Bee-eaters are a feast of colours, the yellow throat patch is conspicuous at some range. This bird would perch out of the wind behind houses at Ollaberry, then sail away to catch bees. We wondered what effect that this may have on the local bee population. Jason quipped, in sympathy, “we’ve made honey in this valley for 150 years!“, to which I added “…until the winged destroyer came!” But, the devastation of the local honey industry apart, it is always a pleasure to see a Bee-eater. Every feather tract is a different, rainbow bright, colour:

European Bee-eater at Ollaberry, Mainland.

The Short-toed Lark proved the hardest to get good views of, not least because we saw it as the outer fringes of Hurricane Lorenzo swept in. I could hardly hold my camera lens horizontal in increasing gale-force south-easterly winds. It is a testament to modern camera equipment that there is any sort of picture at all:

Rock Pipit hunkering down with Short-toed Lark.

The final bird brought us into the company of a number of other birders for the only time in our week on Shetland. Being near other birders is something none of us really enjoy, we are more go-out-on-your-own kind of guys. We barely tolerated each other over the course of the week. And we know that the public sometimes struggles with the behaviour of large groups of birders too. However, we saw no conflict with the local population. In fact, most people were open and friendly towards us. “Are you going to see some fantastic wee birdie?” asked one of the passengers on a local ferry, in a thick Shetland accent. He then showed us a picture of a bird he had taken in his Shetland garden. A few looks were exchanged as we in the back of the car speculated on what he may have photographed. Guesses ranged from Long-tailed Duck to Siberian Blue Robin. But no… a Shetland Wren. Fortunately.

The sign below was the only indication of conflict that we came across. This notice was stuck to the inside of a vehicle parked outside a house at Baltasound, Unst, next to Britains’s most northerly Post Office.

There is a decent area of scrub behind these buildings. The owners had understandably got fed up with birders roaming around their garden. The famous “Right to Roam” in Scotland, brought in by the Land Reform Act 2003, gives everyone rights of access over land and inland water throughout Scotland for recreational purposes, as long as they behave responsibly. Technically birders could go anywhere looking for birds. The real question is whether they should. Respect for the property owners seems only sensible.

One afternoon we had decided to head out to the west coast to see if we could locate any Orca. A pod had been reported regularly in the week before we left, but sightings had dried up almost as soon as we arrived in Shetland. Andy suggested that we drive to West Burra, where the Orca pod had been seen last week. As we headed south news broke that a Bonelli’s Warbler had been found… on West Burra. It would seem rude not to pop in and say hello.

We were aware that there would be other birders present, but none of us had any experience of twitches on Shetland, so we had no idea of how many people turn up. We had a sweepstake on the number of birders we would see, guesses ranged from 8 to 28. As we pulled up, we could see that the bird had attracted some interest:

In no time there were over 50 people present, but many knew each other and a few well known Shetland names were there too, plus Paul and Vicky Wren from Oxfordshire. Social niceties were put to one side when the Western Bonelli’s Warbler appeared in the hedge surrounding the house. Through the bare branches, a ghostly pale face appeared, the dark eye standing out against the pale head feathers:

As the bird emerged, it appeared nearly pure white from the front:

As it worked it’s way towards the sun-lit side of the hedge, the upperpart colouration could be appreciated. the bright yellow-green fringing to the flight feathers and tail bases really stood out:

The Bonelli’s Warbler then worked it’s way around towards a bath that was being used a water trough. The bird popped out of the hedge and perched on the bath. This enabled me to utter one of the more unusual sentences that I have uttered in my life: “Bonelli’s on the bath”. It then defecated and dropped back into the hedge. The two birders below rushed over to try to collect the poo sample for DNA testing. Such is the way of modern birding.

Next, the final instalment: three extraordinary moments on Shetland.

Shetland 2: scarcer species

October 18, 2019October 19, 2019

This post describes some of the scarcer species that we saw on Shetland, ones that we did not see every day, but not species that count as Rare or Extraordinary Moments. These are covered in the next two blog posts. We got lucky: we saw Woodpigeon and Stock Dove in the same week. Not exactly the birds that we came here for, but unusual in Shetland terms. Our policy was to try to find our own birds, ideally slightly more scarce than the two species mentioned above, but we would also travel on news if something good turned up. Our days began by choosing which habitat we would check. We scoured fields and fences…

… walked through iris beds, ditches and wet patches. Any tree cover we came across, we checked for migrants. Virtually every patch had a Yellow-browed Warbler. We walked along headlands, alongside dry stone walls and up and down the burns. We birded from first light to last. All in all, I would say we were pretty thorough. And we did find a number of scarce species.

Andy, birding at the end of the rainbow on Garths Ness, south Mainland.

But rare birds are rare for a reason: they do not occur often. As the remnants of Hurricane Lorenzo sucked air from Asia and pulled it towards Shetland, expectation levels began to rise. We spent the afternoon of Sunday 6th October on Unst, right at the top of Shetland, watching Yellow-browed Warblers fizzing past. I located Britain’s most northerly Whinchat at Skaw, an Otter ran across the road in front of us near Norwick and then we began to head back to base, to Lerwick. At about 5:30pm, as we took the ferry from Belmont, Unst to Gutcher on Yell, a small piece of birding history was being made some 10km away in a plantation on nearby Fetlar: Andrew Tongue had just found Britain’s fourth Rufous-tailed Robin (see here). So near, yet so far. By the time news got out, it was dark and besides the bird was never seen again.

The following day we explored Geosetter, on the south-west coast as the easterly winds picked up. The rareometer was off the scale, we were at the right place, at the right time of year, in the right weather: there must be another monster out there somewhere? But despite our efforts, and those of many others too, we found nothing more than a few Goldcrests and the statutory Yellow-browed Warblers. Rare birds are rare. And very rare birds are very rare. I could go on, stop me when you have had enough. But the bottom line is that a big slice of luck is needed too. Just ask any of Andrew Tongue’s mates on Fetlar that evening.

Geosetter in October in easterly winds: it screams rare birds.

Mark indicating exactly how many Yellow-browed Warblers he had found in Geosetter

Later in the week, we had a productive exploration of the Lambaness peninsular on Unst. Tramping the wet patches and burns produced 3 Jack Snipe and there was a flock of about 50 Snow Bunting feeding on the cliff edge:

**Snow Bunting** are perfectly camouflaged on broken rocky ground. There are 19 in this picture.

I flushed a Lapland Bunting from the track, which Andy and I managed to pin down a little while later in the same spot:

**Lapland Bunting**, with a nice black bib.

Offshore, Red-throated Divers were pretty common. We saw two Black-throated Diver (off Unst and Eashaness, Mainland) and one distant summer plumaged Great Northern Diver, also off Eashaness.

There was a Pied Flycatcher in the only wood on Unst, at Halligarth and a Tree Sparrow amongst the feeding flock of 50 Mealy Redpoll, 40 Brambling, plus assorted House Sparrow, Siskin, Skylark, Meadow Pipit and Twite at Norwick. A Short-eared Owl flew past us at Twatt (more later, inevitably), as did our only Sparrowhawk of the trip a few minutes later.

We caught up with a first-winter male Red-backed Shrike on Friday 4th October near Cunningsburgh:

The Lesser Whitethroat, below, was seen in lovely early evening light in the larger of the two quarries at Sumburgh Head. I assume, perhaps inaccurately, that nearly all Lesser Whitethroats seen this late and this far north are generic “eastern” birds. Pinning them down to a specific subspecies is notoriously difficult, though Martin Garner helpfully addresses this in the Autumn part of his Challenge Series books. This bird is not particularly grey and white, but has much brown on the mantle, extending up through nape and onto the rear crown.

The tail pattern is important and fortunately I managed to get some sort of record of it as the bird darted up to take an insect from near the rock face:

The outer tail feathers, t6, are entirely white. The tip on the next outer tail feather, t5, has an obvious pale wedge. There is a hint of this on t4 too. I think this makes it a pretty good fit for a first calendar year Siberian Lesser Whitethroat, blythi, although without DNA and in-hand biometrics, we will never know for sure.

On our final full day we visited Sandness, on western Mainland to catch up with a Bluethroat, now present for its third day. We were lucky in the sense that this elusive bird was hopping about on the track when we arrived. But it remained distant, before disappearing. It was not reported again after our early afternoon sighting.

Next: Rare birds on Shetland. And after that, some Extraordinary Moments.

Shetland 1: common species

October 17, 2019October 18, 2019

A trip to Shetland in October. Something I have been dreaming about for years. My 50th birthday gave me the excuse that I needed to visit the Northern Isles. Even better, I persuaded Andy Last, Dave Lowe, Jason Coppock and Mark Merritt to join me. We spent seven days birding there from October 3rd 2019. Shetland is bleak and beautiful, a series of coastal scenes and moorland, one opening up after the other as you travel around the islands.

Looking south, over Pool of Virkie and the airport towards Sumburgh Head in the background.

For the first two nights we were based at Toab, in the far south, just at the end of the runway and across the road from the Pool of Virkie. One unusual thing about Shetland is that the main road runs across the runway at Sumburgh. When planes take off and land, cars have to wait at the crossing:

After two nights in Toab we moved into the metropolis of Lerwick, which was centrally placed in the archipelago and has exciting things like shops and people. Over the course of seven full days of birding we visited the sites below:

We saw a respectable 103 species in seven days. Let’s start with the common species, those seen pretty much every day:

**Greylag Geese**. The only goose species we saw in the week, but nice to see wild birds.

**Golden Plover**: the most abundant wader species, with smaller numbers of Lapwing, Snipe and beach waders.

**Great Skua**: this species breeds on Shetland, a few were still hanging on, cruising around the coast and even over Loch of Spiggie.

**Black Guillemot**: always a treat to see. The birds in Lerwick Harbour fish at point-blank range.

**Fulmar**: surprisingly abundant. Whilst expected at cliffs or at sea, one could be in farmland or by one of the inland lakes and a Fulmar would swoop past, reminding us that we were on islands in the middle of the ocean.

**Gannet**: any view of the sea would produce sightings of Gannet and Fulmar.

Goldcrest migration was one of the highlights of the trip for me. Whilst ‘crests in sycamores is symbolic of autumn migration…

…there were times when we came across Goldcrests on the ground, feeding in the grass, clearly fresh in after just crossing the North Sea. Some you could almost reach out and stroke. If you felt so inclined.

Yellow-browed Warbler: the commonest warbler on Shetland. Really. We saw more Yellow-browed Warblers than Chiffchaff, we all had the pleasure of finding multiple birds. This was the default warbler species. One afternoon at Norwick, in far north-east Unst, we walked down the road by the beach and a couple of Yellow-browed Warblers zipped past at knee-height. High on migration hormones, they were completely wired. They shot around us, landing on the fences, on the road, on a pile of bricks, they never paused for more than a second, they were completely adrenalised. It was an insight into the energy that migratory passerines can tap into, a real migration high:

**Chiffchaff** on the beach. The second commonest warbler species that we saw on Shetland.

**Blackcap**, the third commonest warbler species we saw. This male has an interesting white tertial fringe. Or at least a white tertial fringe.

**Shetland Wren**, of the race *zetlandicus*. Clearly darker and longer billed than mainland birds, the difference was more obvious than I expected.

**Starling**: one of the commonest birds on the islands. There always seems to be flocks around, in whatever habitat we were in. Their wind blown calls constantly sounded like something far better. As this species is declining in southern England, it was sobering to be reminded of how common they can be.

**Brambling**: a joyously common finch. The ploughed field at Norwick, Unst, attracted a flock of at least 40 Brambling, including a number of males.

Black beauty: this male Brambling was feeding in the leaf litter at Michaelswood, near Aith. In low light levels when viewed from behind, they are perfectly camouflaged.

I have not visited a place where Twite are one of the common finches, but that is the case in Shetland. We saw them on a daily basis.

**Mealy Redpoll** were simply everywhere. Paler birds caused us much heartache. A number of Coue’s Arctic Redpolls were reported from Unst during our various visits, but they were notoriously hard to catch up with and we never came across birds with the full suite of characteristics: a small bill and face, a pale buff suffusion to the ground colour of the face and mantle, large white wing bars, limited flank streaking and at best, a central pencil mark on the undertail coverts. The birds above and below are clear **Mealy Redpolls**.

Next: scarcer species on Shetland. And a few surprises.

The wildlife of Lye Valley: summer 2019

September 9, 2019September 10, 2019

This is a summary of the birds, and some other wildlife, recorded in the Lye Valley, Warneford Meadow and Southfield Golf Course area of Oxford in June, July and August 2019.

Birds

Summer sees the breeding season come to a close, with many young birds present. By mid-August, the first migrant species are beginning to pass through and this period produced some exceptional records. Thanks to good observer coverage (chiefly by Dave Lowe, Isaac West and I) some 10 new species were added to the site list this summer: Garden Warbler, Marsh Tit, Little Egret, Raven, Sand Martin, Yellow Wagtail, Ring-necked Parakeet, Pied Flycatcher, Spotted Flycatcher and House Martin. Whilst some of these are common species that one would expect to add in the first year of our coverage, Pied Flycatcher is a county rarity with typically only a couple of records per year in Oxfordshire.

This takes the total number of bird species recorded this year to 68. The illustrated eBird checklist is here. Keen-eyed observers will note that this list shows 67 species at present, as the Pied Flycatcher record is still awaiting verification from eBird. We have no idea how long this process takes, but as the bird was photographed this should be a formality.

It is always a joy to see the first Swift of the summer. The first bird over the Lye Valley was recorded on May 18th this year. They were present all summer, with a late bird on 30th August seen by Isaac West.

Little Egret is an occasional visitor the Lye Valley north fen. This bird flew over down the valley on 13th August:

Red Kite and Buzzard were common visitors over the summer and Kestrel bred nearby. Sparrowhawk is the least common of the regularly seen raptors. This bird was in the Barracks Lane scrub:

Unfortunately a dead juvenile Sparrowhawk was found on the golf course in August, though it showed no outward signs of foul play:

Jay numbers have begun to build up as late summer turns into autumn. Carrion Crow and Magpie are the most abundant corvids, with over 20 Magpie recorded on some days:

The first, and only, Marsh Tit was recorded on 15th June. Of the hirundines, Swallow is recorded infrequently and House Martin is almost rare! This year we added Sand Martin to the Lye Valley bird list before House Martin, despite the fact that Sand Martin is an uncommon migrant away from water.

The post-breeding dispersal of phylloscopus warblers resulted in many Chiffchaffs and the odd Willow Warbler being recorded. Chiffchaff certainly bred locally, unlike Willow Warbler which appears to be a passage migrant here.

Dave Lowe found the first Garden Warbler of the year on 6th June, up to 3 were recorded, usually in the golf course area.

Both Whitethroat and Lesser Whitethroat were recorded as autumn passage migrants in late August:

Woodland species, such as Nuthatch and Song Thrush, are very vocal in spring, but become less so once breeding season is over. Both species are still present, just less easy to record:

Bank Holiday Monday was a day not to be forgotten. Dave Lowe and I had already found the first Yellow Wagtails and Ring-necked Parakeets for the area, when we were amazed to discover a Pied Flycatcher in trees on the golf course. The full story is here. Later the same day Isaac West, whilst seeking out the Pied Flycatcher, found at least 5 freshly arrived Spotted Flycatchers. Dave Lowe found another Spotted Flycatcher three days later. Such a purple patch of good birds will not occur often, but demonstrates that the site can attract migrant birds.

Other wildlife: Butterflies and moths

First, the usual caveats about non-avian identification apply here: whilst I am competent at bird identification, I am less so with other forms of wildlife. If you spot an erroneous butterfly, moth, mammal or reptile identification below, please do let me know!

Below is a photographic record of some of the other wildlife recorded this summer in the Lye Valley Area:

Cinnabar Moth caterpillars were abundant in late July. They could be found on nearly every ragwort plant.

Painted Lady. 2019 saw a huge influx of these butterflies from the continent and a number were recorded in the Lye Valley area.

Damselflies, Darters, Hawkers and Chasers

Mammals

Along with the usual Red Foxes and Badgers, Roe Deer were seen occasionally in the valley:

Muntjac are abundant and with up to 8 being seen daily.

The scars on the face and throat of the Muntjac below give some insight into their lives:

Reptiles

Common Lizard was the smallest reptile seen during this period. Adults are only infrequently seen out sunbathing, but young lizards could be found occasionally. They appear as tiny dark shapes and move away very quickly. If seen well, the long lines of gold spots of their bodies can be made out:

Slow-worms are the commonest of the three regularly recorded reptile species. Slow-worms are lizards without legs. Like lizards, they can shed their tails and can blink with eyelids. Snakes do none of the above. Adult females are pure bronze with darker flanks:

Males are paler below and lack the dark flank stripes:

The largest reptiles recorded were adult Grass Snakes. I came across this adult when out looking for reptiles with my daughters. I don’t think they will ever forget the excitement of seeing this large snake move away through the meadow.

The Lye Valley area has produced some amazing wildlife moments over the summer of 2019. Now we wait to see what autumn will bring.

Monday 26th August: the day the patch delivered

August 29, 2019August 29, 2019

An immediate consequence of suffering a femoral neck stress fracture back in February was that I had to stop exercising. Within a month I was able to walk again, albeit with a heavy limp. With spring migration imminent but with running not an option, I began limping around the nearby Lye Valley, birding. From there I discovered the adjacent Warneford Meadow and Southfield Golf Course. Put together, this area had some interesting habitat, despite being surrounded by the housing of Headington and the Churchill Hospital. More importantly, this area was situated on top of an escarpment which runs from Headington hill southwest to Hill Top Road and Barracks Lane. A combination of the location and the habitat made me think there was no reason why the area should not attract some migrant bird species. The first few months of regular visits, to what quickly became my local patch, were recorded here.

The first season was really about getting to know the area and to begin to discover which areas were best for birds. Spring 2019 did not produce any scarce migrant species, such as Redstart, Wheatear or Ring Ouzel. A random Lesser Whitethroat in a tiny urban garden and a couple of spring Willow warblers were the only migrant fare. But Southfield Golf Course always felt as if it had the potential to turn something up.

Autumn 2019 has been dominated by reports of Tree Pipits moving through England in good numbers. Tree Pipit is a rare bird in Oxon, usually with less than a handful of records per year. So last week, in a moment of blind optimism, Dave Lowe and I began a series of early morning sessions, standing on the highest point of the golf course, watching and listening for migrants. Its is a nice idea in theory, providing you can hear anything above the sound of the lawnmowers cutting the greens. On our first visit a flock of 5 Sand Martin flew south, seconds after we had arrived. I just about managed a record shot of the final bird:

One of five distant **Sand Martin** (honest).

But despite this early success (Sand Martin away from water is not an easy bird to record), the next few sessions failed to produce any overhead migrant passerines. However, driven on by reports of Tree Pipit from Mark Merritt on the Oxon downs over the Bank Holiday weekend, Dave and I persisted. Bank Holiday Monday saw us resume our vigil at 6am. Within 15 minutes we had been rewarded with 2 Yellow Wagtails, which flew over silently, again southwest. An expected patch tick. We were then visited by a groundsman on a lawnmower who decided to cut the nearest greens to our spot, making hearing any calling overhead pipit impossible.

We cut our losses and began checking some of the wooded areas for migrants. A brief Lesser Whitethroat was the first of the autumn. The last few days had seen a decent sized flock of Long-tailed, Blue, Coal and Great Tits, Goldcrests, Chiffchaffs and Willow Warblers feeding in this area. We found the flock and began checking the birds as they moved through the silver birches, now bathed in warm sunshine.

As I scanned through the leaves, a stationary bird caught my eye. I only saw the head and back for a second before it flicked away, but surely that was a Pied Flycatcher? It was enough for me to call “Flycatcher!” to Dave. He responded that he too had just had a glimpse of what he thought was Pied Flycatcher’s head. We were both keen to see the bird again, but it took nearly twenty minutes before it was relocated, Dave finding it back close to where we both first glimpsed the bird. After a few moments of celebration, we moved back away from the trees and the first Pied Flycatcher for the Lye Valley area began to settle down to feed:

A self-found county tick, on my local patch with a good mate. Does it get better? Well yes! A pair of Ring-necked Parakeets shot across the golf course and provided a moment of distraction from the flycatcher, another patch tick. We also added a few late Swifts and a Whitethroat to the patch day list, which was by then a record-breaking 37 species, recorded here.

But the day did not end there. Local birder Isaac West visited the golf course on news of the Pied Flycatcher. Whilst he was unsuccessful in relocating the Pied Flycatcher, he turned up a group of at least 5 Spotted Flycatchers, another new species for the area. These birds were exactly where we saw our Lesser Whitethroat earlier, so may have come in during the morning. I managed to drop in late afternoon and saw at least 3 Spotted Flycatchers flycatching busily in the heat of the afternoon:

One of at least **5 Spotted Flycatchers** present on Monday

So we went from adding the first decent migrant passerine (Yellow Wagtail) to finding an even more decent county scarcity. Pied Flycatcher records are just about annual in Oxfordshire, with usually just a couple of spring or autumn records. This weekend had seen a decent movement of Pied Flycatchers over south-east England. There were three Oxon records on Monday, including our bird, which were just about the most northwesterly inland records: we were just on the edge of the wave.

Pied Flycatcher records over the Bank Holiday weekend 2019 in England, data ©Birdguides

More importantly, this weekend demonstrated that our patch can attract migrant birds, even though we suspect that Monday’s fall of 6 flycatchers of 2 different species was an exceptional event. We still await Tree Pipit, but suddenly nearly anything seems possible. Which is a good feeling.

Madeira 5: cetaceans, reptiles and butterflies

August 27, 2019August 27, 2019

And finally, some non-avian wildlife that we came across in Madeira. Monarch butterflies have been recorded on Madeira since at least the 1890s. Presumably, these are migrants blown across the Atlantic from North America where they are famous for their migratory feats. A resident population has been established on Madeira and they are common, even in the capital Funchal. One wonders if Madeira may be the source of the occasional record of Monarch in coastal southern England after south westerly gales? All the photographs below were taken in our hotel garden in Funchal:

Monarch: a butterfly so large you can photograph it in flight!

The Monarchs were fabulous to see and lit up anything that they landed upon:

There were also two small species of blue butterfly in the gardens. Both were fast fliers that always settled with their wings closed and only for a few seconds at a time, so some speed was needed to photograph them. One species was smaller than the other. The smallest was Lang’s Short-tailed Blue. This species has a thin tail protruding from the rear hindwing:

Similar to Lang’s Short-tailed Blue but sightly larger, were Long-tailed Blue butterflies. The vertical pale line on the underwing helped pick them out.

We also came across a single Clouded Yellow in the Botanical Gardens:

Maderian Lizards were everywhere. It was a constant delight to my daughters to see lizards on every wall. The females have dark brown lateral stripes:

Some of the males are bright green:

Not only were they everywhere, but they also ate everything: from cigarette butts to fish and chips to insects, even each other:

The cetaceans around the islands are also easy to see. Even just outside Funchal Harbour there are pods of Short-finned Pilot Whales:

These may be some of the smaller whales, but there is still a lot of whale underwater. Occasionally we got glimpses of more than just the dorsal fin:

Below, adult Short-finned Pilot Whales with a calf, far right:

Bottlenose Dolphins were often seen around the island. One pod played around our boat as we headed out on our final pelagic trip:

These are large beasts. Some males weigh up to 600kgs.

And yes, the sea really is that colour! We only saw a fraction of the island and none of the mountains. Nevertheless, Madeira provided a nice easy family holiday with some great seabirds and a decent selection of other wildlife too.

Madeira 4: land birds

August 24, 2019August 24, 2019

During our time on Madeira I took the conscious decision to prioritise seeing sea birds over land birds. It was only due to the generosity of my wife and parents that I managed to negotiate three afternoons and evenings at sea during what I believe is called a “3G holiday”, when three generations go together. As such, there were no brownie points left in the bank to spend looking for land birds. These I would only see if they happened to appear near me when I was out with the family or they happened to feed in our hotel gardens. Fortunately, most did! It is not too difficult to catch up with the passerine endemics, or near-endemics, on Madeira and I saw pretty much all of them. I had no time to visit the various small water bodies on the island where waders may be found, nor did I visit any of the native laurel forests, which was a shame but was a consequence of my decision to spend more time with sea birds. Here are the land birds that I saw:

**Plain Swift**. From our hotel room balcony. These were the default swift species over Funchal. This is a small dark swift with little, if any, pale throat patch, a fluttering flight action and a deep tail fork (apparently).

**Maderian Firecrests**. Smart birds, but strangely leggy! Adult on the left, juvenile on the right.

**Trocaz Pigeon**. The pale band is visible here on the long tail. This one flew past at eye level over the Botanical Gardens as we were visiting. This was something of a relief, as I had no time to head into the laurel forests higher up the mountains.

A candidate for the worst picture of **Atlantic Canary** ever? I saw or heard this species every day, but most were unapproachable. There were lots of female/juvenile types.

Female “Madeiran Chaffinch”. Not a full species but the subspecies *Fringilla coelebs maderensis*. On the female, note the greenish mantle and undertail coverts.

Male “Maderian Chaffinch”, *Fringilla coelebs maderensis*. The orange colouration is pale and restricted to the face and upper chest. The breast and underparts are off-white. The mantle is grey with some green rather than the chestnut of north-west European birds.

**Grey Wagtail**, of the subspecies *Motacilla cinerea schmitzi*. Paler upperparts and a less obvious supercilium than seen on most European birds.

**Common Waxbill**. I enjoyed seeing (and hearing) these birds with Fabian, who pretended to be pretty ambivalent about seeing an introduced species until we were offered the opportunity to hop out and scan for them. Suddenly he became really quite keen to see them. As soon as they were safely on the list, the ambivalence returned! To be fair, I felt the same.

I also saw the local subspecies of Blackcap, which has the eye-catching Latin name of Sylvia atricapilla heineken. Should we be calling this subspecies Heineken Blackcap? Or would that lead to confusion with a Heineken nightcap? Things might get messy.

Next: Madeiran cetaceans, reptiles and butterflies.

Madeira 3: pterodroma petrels

August 21, 2019August 22, 2019

The main reason that most birders come to Madeira are the pterodroma petrels that breed on and around the island. Modern taxonomy describes the pterodromas that breed on the Desertas Islands as Desertas Petrel; those that breed on highest peaks of Madeira as Zino’s Petrel and the birds that breed on the equatorial Cape Verde Islands as Fea’s Petrel. As Desertas and Fea’s Petrels are virtually indistinguishable in the field, many simply lump them together under the general title “Fea’s Petrels”. Here I am going to call them Desertas Petrels, in order to distinguish them from the Cape Verde breeders.

Neither Desertas nor Zino’s Petrels are particularly common birds, even around the islands. Flood and Fisher (2013) estimate that there may be some 150-200 pairs of Desertas Petrels on Bugio and a total world population of perhaps some 3,000 Fea’s-type birds (including those breeding on the Cape Verde Islands). Estimates of the Zino’s Petrel population on the peaks of Madeira are difficult, but there may be as few as 50 pairs remaining after the catastrophic forest fires of 2010 which affected their breeding colony.

I did visit Pico do Arieiro with Hugo and Catarina to try to hear Zino’s Petrels returning to their colony at night, but we were unlucky with the weather. Whilst it was a humid 28 degrees in coastal Funchal, at 1818m on the summit of Pico do Arieiro, it was only 8 degrees and that was without the significant windchill. The clouds were rolling in and it was not deemed safe to head out onto the edges of the mountains to listen for petrels:

The view from the summit of Pico do Arieiro, the top of the volcano.

So, my chances of seeing pterodroma petrels would be limited to the three consecutive afternoons and evenings at sea that make up the Windbirds pelagic trips. Getting far enough out to sea to have a reasonable chance of attracting pterodroma petrels takes a little work. Fortunately, Hugo and Catarina make this as straightforward as is possible, but hours at sea are required and sightings are not guaranteed. The boat is a 12 seater RIB, the “Oceanodroma”, fitted out with compression seats, that absorb the impact of the boat bouncing through the waves:

There were 9 birders on our trips, 7 Germans, a Frenchman and me. I teamed up with Fabian Bindrich, a German birder, who I sat next too on all three trips and who has provided some of the pictures in this post. He took this one of me (third from right) and the rest of the team as we waited to depart in Machico harbour, some 20 minutes drive from Funchal.

The trips all follow a similar pattern: we travel for up to two hours out to sea. We then spend 4 – 5 hours chumming and drifting, before returning the 1.5- 2 hours back to the island. Our first trip, on Wednesday 30th July, was the most demanding. There was a brisk, force 6 northerly wind and a 1.5-meter swell. These were good conditions for spreading the smell of rotting fish and fish oils from the chum that would attract seabirds, but would make for a demanding afternoon. As Zino’s Petrel was our first target, we would head north, directly into the wind and waves. We were warned on our departure that the journey out would be “extremely wet”. They were right.

It started innocently enough. We sped out of Machico harbour and headed east, sailing parallel to the long headland that makes up the far eastern tip of Madeira. At the end of the long headland there is an offshore island, Ilhéu do Farol, with a lighthouse on top. Between the two is a narrow gap with a fierce tide race. As we approached, Fabian and I glanced at each other nervously. A two-meter high wall of waves was being thrown up as the wind driven waves from the north attempted to power through the small gap in the headland. The way the waves stood out against the calm of the bay that we were crossing was incredible. “I’m glad we are not going through there” I said to myself, in the same instant that Catarina turned the boat to the port side and we headed straight for the standing mass of turbulent waves.

It was not possible to capture this with our cameras. Our equipment was stored away in dry bags and we were holding on for dear life. I took a picture of the gap on a completely calm day, on our third afternoon. It is the idyllic gap above the splashing Bottle-nosed Dolphin. It certainly was not like this on our first day:

We shot up the first wave and slammed down into the trough behind it, landing with a loud thud. We were heading directly into the northerly wind so there was no escaping the wind or the waves. The compression seats were fantastic, absorbing much of the impact of landing, but it took all one’s concentration to anticipate the hard landings as we hit the bottom of the troughs. Having nothing to do except hang on, I spent some time trying to produce an accurate description of the experience. The nearest I got was this: imagine trying to ride a bucking broncho at the fair. It thrashes around all over the place, but you manage to hang on, constantly using your arms and legs to balance. Add to that image the fact that someone is throwing a cold bucket of saltwater in your face, about once every minute. For 90 minutes. That was our ride out north of Madeira.

After 90 minutes of being slammed up and down, we arrived. It says something about the journey out that I was actually looking forward to spending the next 4 hours drifting and chumming, an experience that usually turns me green. Fortunately, we were well advised by Hugo and Catarina and my system was filled with Stugeron, which kept all sensations of seasickness at bay on all three afternoons.

… now you don’t. Flick between these two images for four hours and you’ll get an idea of what the swell was like.

Catarina on the lookout, Hugo dishing out the chum. He also served biscuits, sandwiches and quiche to us birders. Photo by Fabian

Zino’s Petrel

Our main target. Although we had a distant pterodroma petrel in the late afternoon, it appeared directly in front of the sun and then disappeared, unidentified. The afternoon turned to evening. We were surrounded by Cory’s Shearwaters and Bulwer’s Petrels. The light faded. At 20:25 Catrina picked up an incoming Pterodroma, coming towards us from the south. It was slender and lightweight:

As it approached the slim bill confirmed it’s identity, our first Zino’s Petrel! I awaited cheers or some sign of celebration from the other birders on board, but none came. I expressed my surprise to Hugo later and he explained “Germans celebrate inside”.

Zino’s Petrel at sea. The shape of the horizon gives some idea of the sea state: decidedly lumpy!

This bird had large white underwing coverts and a slim bill, a straightforward Zino’s Petrel.

The journey back, with the wind behind us, was a breeze. We skimmed over the waves as darkness fell. And then at 20:56 another Pterodroma appeared. It zipped past in the middle distance in really poor light. It was not conclusively identified at the time but was recorded as a possible Desertas Petrel. I tried to photograph it, but it was too dark and the results hardly qualified as record shots. But on reviewing those images back at home, the bill of this bird appears tiny and one shot appears to reveal a moderate amount of white on the underwing. A probable Zino’s Petrel?

Unidentified pterodroma petrel in the dark 1. Note the tiny bill.

Unidentified pterodroma petrel in the dark 2: pale underwing coverts?

Crossing the tiderace between Ilhéu do Farol and the peninsular was like surfing. We rode the waves across the gap and gently body boarded into the calm waters south of the headland. We were home, having seen Zino’s Petrel.

Cory’s Shearwater and Atlantic Spotted Dolphin from day one. We heard dolphins calling before we saw them. Dolphins on call!

Desertas Petrels

The second and third afternoons were spent to the south of Madeira looking for Desertas Petrel and storm-petrels. Conditions were calmer, with less wind and swell, which was physically easier, but less helpful in dispersing the chum. Day two was the quietest of the three days. There were hundreds of Bulwer’s Petrels around the chum slick, but very little else and no pterodroma petrels were seen.

Eventually, at 18:30, two storm-petrels appeared in the chum slick. All storm-petrels are good, but when White-faced, Maderian and Wilson’s Petrels are all distinct possibilities, seeing 2 European Storm-petrels was something of an anti-climax. Especially when we learnt that the trip after ours saw all the specialist storm petrels, see here. Our only consolation was being accompanied by over 40 Atlantic Spotted Dolphins as we returned to Maderia. The sea was bathed in orange from the setting sun, a large pod of dolphins was all around our speeding boat, bow-riding just for the fun of it, just fabulous.

Nevertheless, even after a quiet day two, I was still looking forward to going out to sea on a third consecutive afternoon. Day three had the calmest conditions and once again we headed south. One hour and twenty minutes into our journey to the Desertas Islands, I see a shape behind and high to my left, in my peripheral vision. I glance up and find myself looking into the dark eye patch of a pterodroma petrel. Micheal, who was sitting behind me, and I shout “pterodroma” and instantly the engine is cut. Unfortunately, the bird departs directly away from us, giving no-one any sort of decent view. Fortunately, 15 minutes later, it returns, wheeling around the boat. One minute in the sky, the next skimming through the troughs:

(left to right): two Bulwer’s Petrels; Desertas Petrel; Cory’s Shearwater

There was then a long period of just Cory’s Shearwaters and Bulwer’s Petrels. Fabian picked up a passing pterodroma in the middle distance, heading towards Bugio, but it didn’t stop. At 20:05 a Desertas Petrel was finally attracted to the chum slick and spent some minutes wheeling around us. This was not a particularly thick-billed individual but had enough chunkiness and weight to be identified as a Desertas Petrel. Note how the colouration of this bird changes depending on light conditions over the following nine pictures:

The upperwing “M” is just about visible here.

The all dark underwing and contrasting white body are visible at long range.

In very low evening sun, appearing brown and white.

Desertas Petrel in front of Bugio, their breeding island and the most southerly of the Desertas chain.

All in all, I really enjoyed the Windbird pelagic trips and would recommend them to any birder with an interest in petrels. We were unlucky with storm-petrels, but that is the risk you take with wildlife watching, nothing is guaranteed. Hugo’s summary of our three trips is here on the Windbirds website.

Next: Maderian landbirds

Madeira 2: Bulwer’s Petrel

August 12, 2019August 12, 2019

The main target species of the Windbird pelagic trips are Pterodroma petrels and Storm-petrels. But one of the many nice things about the trips is that the supporting cast of common seabird species is still interesting, from a European birding perspective. Bulwer’s Petrel is a very rare bird in north-west Europe but is common in the seas around Madeira.

Madeira, and the associated Desertas and Selvagens Islands, host between 6,000 and 10,000 pairs of Bulwer’s Petrel (Fisher & Flood, 2011). They breed during the northern summer, so at the time of our visit in late July and early August the majority of breeding pairs may well have been feeding chicks. At sea they were an abundant species. On the second of our pelagic trips Bulwer’s Petrel significantly outnumbered Cory’s Shearwaters.

Whilst silent at sea, on their breeding grounds Bulwer’s Petrel have a strange barking call, issued from the nesting burrow and from birds in flight:

My first sighting of Bulwer’s Petrel was from Ponta da Cruz on a landbased seawatch, when one buoyantly glided and twisted past in calm conditions over a flat sea. At mid-distance the bird appeared completely black, the long slim wings and body being obvious. These are unique Nightjar-sized petrels. There is something of the Storm-petrel in some of their flight actions when they are sharply zipping about in high winds, although they are twice the size of most Storm-petrels. But when in travelling flight, powering down a trough parallel to the wave, there is almost something of the tringa waders in their flight action: the head is held above the body, the wings are elevated, quick flicks of the primaries power the bird forward. They have a distinctive flight action all of their own.

At sea, and with better light, more plumage details became apparent. The pale carpal bar was visible at mid-distance in good light:

The paler secondary coverts of the upperwing create the pale carpel bar. The closed tail is long and attenuated. The upperwing primary bases are dark, with no pale patches as is seen in the much smaller Swinhoe’s Storm-petrel:

The pale upperwing carpal bar is pretty much the only stand out plumage feature. The body, head, tail and underwing are to all intents completely dark, unless the views are exceptional and in perfect light.

The wedge-shaped tail, so often mentioned in field guides, was not so obvious in our experience. We only saw the wedge as birds braked hard to hover, before dropping onto prey items:

But all dark birds are not easy to photograph. The light levels become even more critical. And that’s before you add the fact that you are in a small boat in potentially heavy seas, trying to photograph a small bird zipping past at speed. Eventually, I figured out that to get the best pictures of this species I would need to wait until early evening, when the light was soft, on a day when the sea was relatively calm. I had to be low down in the boat, at eye level when the birds skimmed past. On our third afternoon at sea, such conditions presented themselves and finally, the results were satisfactory! At close range and in perfect light Bulwer’s Petrel has a dark, hooded appearance. The feathers of the head and neck are the blackest of all on this all dark bird:

In exceptional light and at close range the underwing primary bases can reflect light and appear silvery. But mostly, these are black seabirds.

Having enjoyed the common supporting cast, it was then time for the main act. Next: Pterodroma petrels

Madeira 1: Cory’s Shearwater

August 10, 2019August 11, 2019

We spent last week on a volcano in the Atlantic Ocean: the fabulous island of Madeira. I was with my family and my parents, but with their consent I managed to negotiate three afternoons at sea on the Windbirds pelagic trips run by Hugo and Catarina. Like most endemic island birding, the total number of species recorded was small but specialised. So, for a change, I’m going to write up this trip by species, rather than day-by-day accounts. First, the most abundant seabird species, Cory’s Shearwater.

Madeira is home to some 3,000 pairs of Cory’s Shearwaters and whilst this is a common species, it was always a joy to see them, especially at close range.

Cory was an American ornithologist who first described the species. Madeira has long been a stronghold for Cory’s Shearwater. Throughout the nineteenth century an annual harvest of up to 30,000 chicks took place on the Selvagens Islands, some 267 km to the south of Madeira. The birds provided local meat, whilst their feathers were sold to England as eiderdown. In 1969, following the decimation of the species, hunting was banned. In the last fifty years, numbers of breeding Cory’s Shearwater have recovered significantly and it was the most abundant seabird species that we saw.

On our third day, I got an early morning bus out from the capital Funchal to the south-facing headland of Ponta da Cruz for a brief land-based seawatch. It felt appropriate to get some land-based views of Cory’s Shearwater, before heading out to sea. My short journey was so efficient and sunrise is so late in the tropics, that I arrived in total darkness at 6:45am. Over the next half hour the sky lightened and revealed flocks of resting Cory’s Shearwaters on the water. As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, they gradually took to the wing, passing Ponta da Cruz, all flying west. There was absolutely no wind and the sea was flat. The birds were in the middle distance so gave pretty good views. My first Bulwer’s Petrel appeared amongst them, a black shadow, all slim long wings and tail.

Later in the week our family group ended up at Port Moniz, the far north-westerly point on the island. You know a site is good for seawatching, when there are notice boards with pelagic species on them positioned by the sea:

Below: “Oh, we appear to be at one of Madeira’s best sea-watching spots… and I just happen to have my ‘scope in the car!” Behind me are the famous natural swimming pools, where we spent the afternoon. The light was fabulous for seawatching here, Cory’s Shearwaters streamed past in the middle distance, glowing brown and white against a deep blue sea.

A short whale watching trip in Funchal harbour showed just how abundant and close to the shore Cory’s Shearwaters are in Madeira:

At night you can hear Cory’s Shearwaters calling everywhere, even close to the capital, Funchal. The higher-pitched calls of the male contrasting with the lower-pitched calls of the female:

But it was the pelagic trips that brought the most memorable encounters with Cory’s Shearwater:

On one occasion, we spotted a huge feeding frenzy of Cory’s Shearwaters on the horizon to the south:

As we approached, with the Desertas Islands in the background, birds could be seen sitting on the water:

The latin name for Cory’s Shearwater is Calonectris borealis, literally “beautiful swimmer of the north”. This is a slightly surprising name for a species that is usually associated with flight, although after feeding and in calm conditions many were resting on the sea. From a distance, their size and grey-brown colouration combined with their large yellow/orange bill was slightly reminiscent of a seeing distant flock of Greylag Geese on the sea! Close up however, these are great birds.

Some birds had eaten so much, that they appeared to be in difficulty on the water. This bird was not bathing, it was just floating, partially submerged:

Cory’s Shearwaters have no crop, but like most birds have a large glandular forward stomach and a smaller rear stomach, the gizzard, where the more resistant undigested items are broken down, for example, squid beaks (see here). Hugo thought that the behaviour we were witnessing helped recently taken food settle in the glandular stomach before the birds could take off again. They certainly looked odd, either partially submerged or holding their wings outstretched, but then would happily take flight.

Cory’s Shearwaters have huge bills. The tip of the upper mandible curves right around to form a sharp hook. Presumably, this helps secure captured prey items, as well as being a fearsome cutting blade. Our close views allowed us to study the bill and tubes in detail:

Some birds passed within a few metres of us, giving point-blank views. Note the white crescents above and below the eye. Not the kind of detail that you get to see in UK waters very often.

Below, an uncropped shot from the boat, giving some idea of how just close these fabulous birds sailed past:

Cory’s Shearwater and Atlantic Spotted Dolphin.

Next: Bulwer’s Petrel.