Perfect Plover poses post-lockdown

With the journey north to Edinburgh being so familiar now (for pet/vet reasons!), the prospect of repeating it for the sake of a major rarity was not as daunting as it otherwise might have been. Two and a half hours later, I left the car at John Muir Country Park, just west of Dunbar, and headed up the main footpath towards Tyninghame Bay with the conifer forest on my left and the dune system to my right. Somewhat concerned that I had encountered no other birders for the first 15 minutes of my trek, I was then relieved to see a couple with scopes in the distance. Getting to the spit was, however, not as straightforward as I had anticipated; it was high tide and the bay had filled to such a degree that I had to backtrack a fair way to circumnavigate the deep channels. Anyway, back on course now, I headed out with more purpose and enthusiasm, spurred on further by reports that the bird was still showing well. The going did not get any easier and I envisaged arriving, exhausted from half-jogging along the sandy shore-line, to find that the high tide had pushed the bird on and I was too late. Much to my relief, on rounding the bend at the end of the spit, the groups of birders I had seen from a distance had their optics still trained on the bird in question and within seconds I was onto it: my first ever Greater Sand Plover! This first-summer bird was half asleep on the pebble spit and despite its camouflage could be seen easily once you knew where to look. The rosy breast was only discernible when it turned to face me; otherwise, it remained a fairly drab, pale bird but with a comparatively chunky bill.

Only the 23rd British record of this species, the last being eight years ago, this was a undoubtedly a good bird to connect with. Initially, it appeared almost moribund and remained so for a good hour, but then as the tide receded, it became suddenly more lively and joined small flocks of Ringed Plover and Knot feeding amongst the sea-weed close to the water's edge. It then became quite flighty and would occasionally disappear over the low ridge of sand and pebbles between its admirers and the shoreline. Eventually, it chose to leave the spit area for good but, unlike my colleagues, I followed it for some time in flight and watched it as it appeared to land on the marshland, some 500m back along the shore. Having had my fill already, I decided then to head back to the car-park but kept an eye on the area in question hoping that the bird might still be there as I walked past. To my delight, it was, and it was here that I could get a little closer to it and took my best photographs, ones that would bring a smile to my face during the editing process that evening.