Fabulous Flamborough!

Having had a pretty miserable week off with all kinds of things going wrong (not least the lack of local birds), I decided at the last minute to head over to East Yorkshire in an attempt to connect with one or two megas, neither of which I had seen before. I didn’t arrive until 2.30pm, but the news on both rarities was positive, so I headed off towards the first of the two crowds. But this was an error. The bird had been seen 30 minutes before I arrived but had now vanished. Consolation came in the form of a very tame Goldcrest that hopped about on the grass amongst the line of twitchers and about three Brambling that I saw well through binoculars. Having waited an hour, I then made the bold decision to leave this site and head north for the other mega. Things did not look good as I approached; birders returning from this site looked forlorn – many had been waiting for a couple of hours without reward. But as I entered the final straight, along with two other birders I’d hooked up with, one bloke passed us claiming he’d just seen it! The three of us then half jogged to the finish line, stumbling and slipping on the muddy path, but it was all worth it – just. As I arrived panting, a kind lady invited me to look through her scope, and there it was – my first ever Red-headed Bunting! Now, I have to say it was hardly the most attractive of birds – a first winter male, apparently, and a casual glance might have led to mistaken identity: it looked similar to a Corn Bunting in some ways but without the beady eye and with slightly warmer tones in the upperparts. But essentially, this was a cold, fairly pale, featureless bird perched openly on the exposed branch of a bramble, some 40-50m away. I watched it for about 10 seconds through the woman’s scope before deciding to set up my own. Much to my dismay, it had vanished again, and despite an hour’s wait, it failed to reappear. The numerous Reed Buntings and Yellowhammers hardly made up for it. I stayed until the bitter end hoping it might come to roost but no sign. A nice Snow Bunting on the track on the way back to the car cheered me up a little, as did a brief Barn Owl in the car headlights on the way to my B&B, but this wasn’t really what I had come for. It was also almost dark before I found the Snow Bunting, so the photos are nothing to write home about. Worse: from the moment I got back to the B&B until now (the following morning as I write this), Birdguides website is undergoing maintenance so I can’t even find out what’s about. Looks as though I’ll be heading back to the coast to find my own birds… could be interesting! Well, it turned out that I had no reason to worry. Admittedly, things did not look good as I set off for the coast again after a poor night’s sleep. Rain had set in, and despite the forecast suggesting it might clear up, the improvement in the weather was delayed by a good 2-3 hours. I did spot a party of about a dozen Red-legged Partridge on the minor road on the way to Flamborough, which proved entertaining, but in the poor light and rain, it was hard to get pleasing shots. It took a long time for things to improve on both the birding and weather fronts; once again, I set off for the Red-headed Bunting – along the now familiar muddy path – and then stood there in the heavy drizzle (and cold wind). But the bird did show eventually, and this time I got better views, through my own scope this time, and for long enough for me to get to grips with the salient features. (It was still an unimpressive looking creature, mind!) I tried some long-distance shots but failed miserably; even if I had got the thing in focus, it was too far off for anything worth keeping. But then things improved… As we waited for the bird to reappear, news came through of the other major rarity on the headland – it had been seen again despite the concern that it might have moved further inland. I decided to give up on the bunting and set off back down the muddy path to the ‘motorway hedge’ near the lighthouse; this was, after all, the bird I was keener to see – one I’d drooled over when perusing ID guides.

As I approached, I picked up the pace and arrived just in time to get brief but definite views of my first ever Two-barred Warbler. And then, after a twenty-minute period when the bird disappeared over the hedge, the rain stopped and the mega re-emerged, this time showing brilliantly. It seemed very happy feeding on insects in amongst the thistles and weedy vegetation in the field and would often perch openly on an exposed stalk or bramble. This is what I had come for, and now I could relax at last. Two lifers in two days! I also got some pretty good photos – perhaps not quite as mind-blowing as some I’ve seen of this bird but perfectly acceptable.

But this was by no means the end of the road in terms of rarities. Once I’d had my fill of this delightful creature, I walked 200 yards back down the track to catch up with another – Pallas’s Warbler!

Moreover, this was the most confiding one I had encountered perhaps; after an initial period of elusiveness, it emerged into the open and fed quite close to us just below the cliff-top path. (I was there with some 100-200 other birders scattered over the headland.) Views were excellent, and for the first time ever, I got some very acceptable images of this prize warbler, the king of the bunch one might argue, with its full suite of ‘phyllosc’ features – supercilium, central crown stripe, pale rump, wing bars… I got numerous keepers, and some showed most of the features very well; sadly, I couldn’t quite manage a sharp shot of the bird in flight and should probably have removed the converter to get more light in. Still, after a prolonged session here chasing the bird from one end of the footpath to the other and having amassed a number of potential keepers, I dragged myself away. The shots above are the best of the rest, perhaps. Just 50 yards away, I was aware of another rarity, and within half an hour here I’d secured very good binocular views of this species too: Dusky Warbler! Sadly, no photos this time, but I saw it well enough perched in the brambles, albeit only briefly, and enjoyed watching it fly around a bit, ‘tacking’ loudly. After a while, it went to ground and remained hidden from view. But the gold rush wasn’t over yet. As we waited for the warbler to reappear, others around me drew attention to a swift flying around the distant headland. Eventually, it came a little closer and seemed to be lingering around the lighthouse. I left the warblers in peace and set off down the road to where other twitchers were quickly gathering.

And here I enjoyed very good binocular views (and some decent record shots) of what was only my third ever Pallid Swift! Now, having seen only two before, I was hardly an expert in the field, but I’m hoping the photos might clinch the ID. The two outer tail feathers are clearly shorter than the adjacent ones, a feature I remember scrutinising when I looked at photos of the Amble birds. It was also clearly pretty pale (photo editing aside), and its flapping seemed less frenetic perhaps than those of its commoner cousin. The wing shape is also diagnostic, I feel, with noticeable ‘bulging hands’ towards the tip. Anyway, others around me seemed convinced that this was indeed the real deal. After a while, the bird drifted further away again, and after another brief shoot at the Pallas’s site, I decided to finish on a high and set off home. In the end, it had been well worth it as a much-needed dose of rarity/lifer chasing before my return to work. And it was also nice to have my faith restored in my fellow birders/twitchers; those whom I happened to find myself alongside as I watched, waited and photographed were surprisingly normal – pleasant, educated, calm and helpful. And many shared a sense of humour whenever the bird in question proved difficult to find, which helped to raise my spirits. Not a bad haul in all: 2 lifers and a supporting cast of Pallas’s Warbler, Dusky Warbler and Pallid Swift.