A Case of the Blues!

So, this mega rarity appeared whilst I was still at the previous location photographing the warblers and flycatchers, but the fact that it was only viewable by entering the garden owner’s house put me off somewhat! I was also tired after what had been a long day out in the sun and couldn’t face the hour’s drive to the coast… This proved to be the wrong decision. I woke early the next morning (19th) and decided to go for it hoping the bird had stayed overnight. Arriving at 8am, after a 90-mile drive, the signs did not look good: negative news on Birdguides and a line of disgruntled twitchers looking at their phones. I hung around growing increasingly concerned that my recent run of good luck had come to an end. Time passed with no sign of the bird. I showed a vague interest as others around me pointed out where it had been seen last, its favourite perches and how my birding colleagues had had crippling views the day before… Oh dear. This was painful. 9am, 10am, 11am came and went; it was time to accept defeat and I headed home. This was the biggest blow I had experienced for a while; it felt worse than the Black-browed Albatross calamity. But far worse was to come: having had lunch and drowned my sorrows in wine, I contemplated whether I should now check Birdguides… I couldn’t resist, could I? I took a peek…The ‘red blob’ was back on the map!! You’ve got to be kidding me. The bird had just re-appeared. Now what? Well, it only took me a few minutes to make a decision. I got back in the car, and drove all the way back to Whitburn, just east of Newcastle, rediscovered the back alley, which felt strangely familiar (!), and encountered other birders punching the air and with big smiles on their faces. Of course, the bird had just flown off, hadn't it?! – minutes before I arrived… But I stayed calm, as others seemed hopeful it would reappear. And sure enough, after about 10 minutes or so, there was a commotion nearby, as a dozen or so birders raised their bins and huddled next to each other to clap eyes on what had to be the bird we’d all come to see. Moments later, I had muscled my way through the crowd and could now see, through my own binoculars, the distinctive cobalt blue of the mega in question: a first-summer male Indigo Bunting! Huge relief, joy, wonder… so many feelings. This wasn’t just your ‘bog-standard’ non-descript juvenile either; this was an absolute corker. No, the initial views weren’t ideal (the bird was partially obscured, and I was constantly jostled by those around me), but I had the bird in my sights and there was no doubting its identity. Yes, yes, yes! Over the course of the next few hours, I raced around the housing block, round the nearby allotments, up and down the alleyway, past the local cemetery… as the bird flew from one area to another, popping up here and there, but never anyway especially accessible or open for photography. Still, I had seen it now and any shots I might get, no matter how poor, would be a bonus. And, given the circumstances and its elusive nature, I came away with more than just record shots. Yes, others had got far better images, but my own just about did the bird justice (thanks to my new camera’s eye-focussing technology). What a bird! It had been a mad day from start to finish – 12 hours of chaos and extreme emotions. But at least this time, for the second time, I could return home with a grin on my face, thrilled that I’d connected with the ultra-mega. Here’s hoping now that it gets accepted by the notorious rarities committee…!