The Grey Catbird. An Epic Twitch 17th October 2018

Autumn this year has been exceptional for us twitching folk in that it has been truly dire due to the prevailing winds being entirely from the wrong direction for bringing in eastern migrant rarities. This changed for the better on Sunday 7th October when a Green Warbler was found on Lundy Island off North Devon and I found myself, with Justin, on one of two small charter boats sailing from Ilfracombe to Lundy, early on Monday morning. 

The charter boat following our boat across to Lundy

The crossing was rough, very rough but exhilarating and it was good to be back on Lundy after an absence of nearly thirty years, when I came to successfully twitch an Ancient Murrelet. The only problem this time was the star turn, the Green Warbler, had gone overnight leaving just a numerous supporting cast of Willow Warblers, Common Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps. Justin, myself and twenty other birders returned to Ilfracombe chastened by our first major dip of the autumn.

Hurricane Michael, a couple of weeks ago, was predicted to batter the south eastern USA and held out hope that some North American migrants might be displaced and end up on this side of the Atlantic, and our own Storm Callum was going to produce winds of up to 80mph along the western side of Britain. Many birders held their metaphorical breath in anticipation of 'the big one'.

The week that followed was again unexceptional  but for me busy, both work wise and socially, before my wife departed for Glasgow on Friday to visit our daughter. On Sunday, the 14th October, I went to see an Isabelline Shrike in Devon (see my previous post) which had been present since the 10th October.

While looking at the Isabelline Shrike, startling news came through of a Pacific Swift that had been found feeding with House Martins at Hornsea Mere in East Yorkshire. As it was a swift it was hardly likely to stay for long so there was little point in getting excited but later in the afternoon the Pacific Swift was re-identified from photos as a White-rumped Swift. Unlike the Pacific Swift this was a first for Britain.

The news of the re-identification put a whole new complexion on matters. Justin sent me a text asking if I was going to drive overnight to Hornsea to try and see it, assuming it remained and was still at Hornsea the next morning. At first I thought there was no possibility but then, thinking it through back at home, I realised I was driving to Glasgow tomorrow, anyway, to join my wife and daughter for three days.Why not leave much earlier for Glasgow and go via Hornsea?

Thus, at 2am on a wet Monday, I set a course for Hornsea and arrived in the dark and rain at Hornsea Mere. Many other birder's cars were already lining the road awaiting the dawn, nose to tail alongside the reserve and occupying the side roads too.This was going to be a major twitch as a first for Britain was always going to attract large numbers of birders.The dawn slowly rose and we all left our cars and stoically trudged across two wet fields to stand and view a depressing prospect of a bleak, cold looking expanse of water, surrounded by woods with a large grass field immediately in front of us. It was grey, wet and chilly and there was not a sign of the swift which was hardly surprising. It had been a long shot anyway but this still did not mitigate the crushing disappointment.

For two hours I stood and shivered, chatting to two fellow twitchers I vaguely knew from previous jaunts such as this. A degree of black humour descended on us when we realised that it was a lost cause. No one however was prepared to accept the truth or wanted to be the first to be seen to give up, such is the competitive streak in us, but this was truly hopeless.The wind was blowing the incessant rain down my neck and I was becoming increasingly chilled. Tired, dishevelled and thoroughly depressed I stood and gazed morosely out over the field to the mere beyond. A birder came running along the line. 'Is anyone a doctor?' he enquired to one and all. No one answered. A lady birder had collapsed further down by the hedge and lay prone on the grass sheltered by a large umbrella. Twenty minutes later a paramedic arrived to attend to her. She had been on the ground, unmoving for a long time. It did not look good.

I turned to my two companions and announced I was leaving and made my weary way back to the car. There is nothing worse than this feeling believe me. My second dip in a week. I was down and almost out.

Never mind. Hope springs eternal and I resolved to drive to Glasgow forthwith and as the warmth of the car slowly permeated my wet and chilled flesh I decided on getting some breakfast, having had no food since yesterday evening. After a drive across country, in the most unlikely looking of places in the middle of rural North Yorkshire, I found a superb small cafe and soon was tucking in to a vegetarian breakfast and hot coffee.That was better and thoroughly resuscitated I set off for Glasgow in good spirits, some five hours drive away.

All went well and, meeting my family, we spent the evening chatting and catching up on my wife and daughter's previous couple of days, spent on the Isle of Arran. Back at our hotel  I consulted my RBA (Rare Bird Alert) app. My world promptly turned upside down as I read the following text. 

MEGA Cornwall GREY CATBIRD 1/2ml east of Lands End + north of A30 at Treeve Moor just north of Treeve Moor House briefly 3.55pm

A Grey Catbird is a North American species, native to most of temperate North America east of the Rockies which migrates to the southern USA, eastern Mexico, Central America south to Panama and the islands of The Caribbean in September and October, returning to breed in North America in May.

Hurricane Michael had well and truly delivered 'the big one'.

I tried to remain calm and informed my wife of the discovery of the Grey Catbird, only the second ever to be found on the mainland of Britain. The first had been on South Stack in Anglesey, Wales which stayed for two days on 4/5th October 2001 and had been a nightmare to see, as the species is a notorious skulker, and the Anglesey bird spent most of its brief stay hiding in gorse and was only seen for brief seconds by a lucky few before disappearing, never to be seen again.

Apart from the two records from mainland Britain there are only five acceptable records for western Europe.

An individual was shot on Helgoland, Germany on 28th October 1840

One was found on mainland Germany at Leopoldshagen in May 1908

One was feeding with House Sparrows on Jersey, Channel Islands in mid October 1975 and was caught and kept in captivity until at least December 1975

One was on Cape Clear Island, Co. Cork, Rep.of Ireland on 4th November 1986

One was found at La Mareta on Tenerife, Canary Islands on 1st November 1999

Another individual was discovered on the liner QE2 on 21st October 1998 when the ship docked at Southampton, having sailed from New York, but this record could not be accepted as it was deemed the bird had been 'ship assisted.'

Two immediate questions raced though my mind as I absorbed the implications of this latest arrival of a very rare bird to Britain. Would this Grey Catbird, currently in Cornwall, remain longer than the one in Anglesey and, if it did, would it still be there on Thursday, which was the first opportunity I would have to try and see it. I was hardly enthused as mega rarities are often gone in two or three days.

Despite my inner turmoil I remained philosophical and firmly committed to remain in Glasgow as my daughter and wife trump even the rarest of birds.

We were all due to go and see a Ry Cooder (older readers will know of him) concert on Tuesday evening in the Glasgow Concert Hall and then on Wednesday the plan was for my wife and myself to drive back to Oxfordshire. I sent a text to Justin suggesting we team up if  by some miracle of chance the catbird was still present on Wednesday. I would be home by Wednesday afternoon and we could drive down overnight to be in Land's End for first thing on Thursday, as Justin had no work commitments on Thursday 

We agreed on this plan. Anxiously I checked RBA on Tuesday to find the catbird was still at Land's End and photos of the little stunner started to appear on the internet and raise the tension even more. Justin then sent me a text saying he could not wait and was going to drive down to Cornwall on Wednesday afternoon.

I thought about this and an alternative plan formed in my mind that would require some very delicate negotiation and timing. Finding myself sitting in the pleasant ambience of the Glasgow Concert Hall on Tuesday evening with my wife, awaiting the arrival of our daughter, I broached the subject  of going to see the catbird.

Do you fancy going to Land's End tomorrow dear? I enquired.

Why?

Well, the Grey Catbird is still there and I would really like to see it.

'I have never been to Land's End' my wife informed me.

'Well there you are then, now is your opportunity.' I seized the moment

'Yes, but I have all my customers commissions to sort out and I need to get back to Oxfordshire as soon as possible' my wife countered.

A period of silence then ensued as my wife considered the options. I knew better than to say anything but then had a brainwave. 

'If you need to be back home tomorrow and do not want to go via Land's End, then why not go back to Oxford by train? I will pay for the ticket'.

Another period of silence ensued and to my utter relief and eternal gratitude my wife thought this would be acceptable.She booked a ticket online on Virgin from Glasgow to Oxford leaving from Glasgow Central Station at ten the next morning and informed me the ticket would cost me £87.00. Ouch, but the deal was done.

I in turn told her I would leave the hotel at around seven the next morning as I needed a good rest before embarking on the very long drive to Land's End.

The next morning I crept from the room and left Glasgow right on time.The Satnav informed me that, all being well, I would arrive at Land's End, eight and a half  hours later at 3.30pm. It seemed an eternity but it had to be done.

All went according to plan and schedule whilst driving south through Scotland and I crossed the border into England. Around Carlisle I checked my RBA app and it confirmed the Grey Catbird had been seen that morning. One major anxiety was thus removed from the epic gamble and adventure I was embarked on. I passed through the Fells at Shap before dropping down into Lancashire. It was then the problems commenced as I hit the rush hour traffic. Warning signs appeared informing me of major delays between Junctions 27-23 of the M6 around Wigan. One hour's delay was predicted.

My anxiety levels increased exponentially. Any time I had gained driving, up to now, were obliterated in the long tailback of traffic which thankfully just about kept moving but only at a snail's pace.Then I was free, only to encounter more delays around Manchester both from traffic volumes and the now customary 50 mph Average Speed Check which went on for mile after frustrating mile.

And so it carried on but, somehow, the Satnav still informed me, despite the various delays my arrival would be only slightly later at Land's End, now predicted between 3.45 and 4pm. This would give me around two hours to try and see the catbird. Not a lot of time for such a skulking and elusive bird to show itself. I had to hope I would be lucky.

Leaving the M6 at Birmingham I turned onto a much more free flowing M5 and was soon past the last potential bottleneck at Bristol and  heading inexorably westwards. Somerset and then Devon passed without incident and I entered Cornwall, and apart from the occasional slow moving tractor my passage was unhindered as I drove down the length of the county and arrived at Land's End around 3.30pm. Earlier than predicted.

After  some slight confusion I found, courtesy of a local lady, Treeve Common and the designated field in which to park the car. The field was provided by the kindly owner of the adjacent Treeve House, in return for a voluntary contribution in a bucket placed by the field's entrance. 

Treeve House

The field acting as a temporary car park by Treeve House

I could see a line of birders at the bottom of the field looking over a rough area of pasture beyond, with gorse, bramble and ivy growing over decrepit dry stone walls, forming uneven boundaries to two overgrown fields. This habitat was not dissimilar to the catbird's normal habitat in North America. I recognised the three small willows growing in a field dividing ditch, from photos I had seen on the internet, and in which the catbird had been seen to perch. On the other side of the willows was stood another line of birders. 

The three small clumps of willows much favoured by the Grey Catbird and the
bramble clumps in front of them. Home to the Grey Catbird

Birders on the opposite side of the rough field to me

Somewhere in between was the Grey Catbird.

I joined the ranks of birders at the bottom of the car park field and was told by a birder that the catbird had flown into the willows and I would get a better view of it, when and if it showed, by walking around Treeve House to join the line of birders in the other field on the far side of the willows.

I did just that, following a narrow twisting footpath and joined some twenty birders standing and looking at the willows, all of us silently willing the catbird to show itself but to no avail. Everyone conversed in whispers. Two Chough passed over and above us, calling, and a birder announced their presence in excited tones but no one turned to look. We were all totally focused on the willows where the catbird had been seen to fly earlier and disappear. No one wanted to miss it, as if it showed itself it would most likely be for just seconds. A Dunnock and a couple of European Stonechats flitted around the willows but there was no sign of the catbird. Justin called to tell me he had just arrived and I could see him, though my bins, standing in the line of birders on the opposite side of the rough pasture to me.

The wind was increasing and blowing in cold gusts from the northeast and after an hour and a half I was becoming more than a little anxious once again. High stakes indeed. Would I ever see the catbird? Surely it would show itself before the light went? In my anxiety I resolved to stay overnight if necessary but the prospect was not one that cheered me. I began to realise just how tired I was as the adrenalin fuelled previous ten hours began to subside into a vague memory

It was around five thirty when the birder standing next to me said 'There it is!' However, before he could give specific directions concerning the willow it had just hopped up into it promptly dropped down again and was gone. Other birders rushed to our end of the line but it was too late. Two seconds, if that, and it was gone. I missed it as did everyone else.

Optimistically someone said 'Well at least it's still here and  somewhere below the willows' but we all knew he was only vocalising the sense of despair and disappointment that was shared by all of us.It was heartbreaking, the worst feeling in the world, to miss by a second a bird I had been standing waiting to see for almost two hours, let alone after driving almost six hundred miles to see it. I looked longingly at the offending willow, willing the catbird to just hop back up into it but of course it did not happen.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes passed and then I heard the catbird calling, a thin meowing sound, just like a kitten and giving rise to its name. The call was coming from somewhere at the base of the three willows and then a birder at the other end of the line found it perched in the left hand willow. During the previous two hours many more birders had arrived and consequently an inevitable, unseemly scrum ensued as everyone was desperate to see the elusive catbird. Familiar, anxiety racked words pierced the air, 'Where is it?' 'Can you give directions?'  

I could not see it with all the confusion of people jostling and shoving, standing in front of me, all consideration gone as anxiety took over from courtesy and reason. The man who found it was trying to get his grown up son onto it and kept giving garbled directions which we all tried to follow. Some got onto it others like me failed. His son, to the father's obvious frustration failed to see it too and in the end his father was almost shouting in his anxiety, 'Look at it, its obvious! It's just bloody sat there!' His son still failed to see it and the bird flew down again into obscurity. The son swore loudly, accused his father of giving hopeless directions and burst into tears of anger, frustration and despair. I knew how he felt as I was in the same position although managed better control of my highly charged emotions.

Despair. Frustration. Anger. The realisation that a golden opportunity had gone forever. A whole gamut of emotions passed through me in an instant.Would it now be another long wait? Would I ever see it?

A couple of minutes elapsed and the invisible catbird commenced calling once again and redemption came as it hopped up, now clearly visible in the middle willow of the three. 

Grey Catbird 
with grateful thanks to Lee Fuller

What a beauty and at last I was looking at a bird that had been on my mind for days. It was fairly large, almost Song Thrush in size and was, overall, a dark bluish grey, paler on the head from which stared a large dark eye and with a black skullcap on its crown. Its wings and tail were black and it perched on a thin branch of the tiny willow, switching its partially spread long tail  from side to side and flicking its wings. A small flash of chestnut showed from its undertail coverts and then it flew, fast and low across the field towards the opposite line of birders and dived into a big stand of blackthorn and bramble behind them. 

Gone but never to be forgotten.

Everyone relaxed, the tension dissipating on the wind. The man and his son regained their composure and we all sympathised with them as we too had all similarly endured the emotionally charged moments that had just passed.

I walked back and around Treeve House to join Justin on the other side and we shared our joy at seeing this so elusive and much coveted bird.We stood in the fading light as an orange sun sank in the west and then it was time to go.

It was another long drive back to Oxfordshire but it was buoyed by high spirits and a sense of satisfaction in knowing my run of bad luck had been emphatically and spectacularly ended, here in an unremarkable field at Land's End.

Thanks must be recorded to my wife for yet another supreme exhibition of understanding and tolerance.

However, now read on .........................

On Friday I awoke with a feeling of unfulfilment concerning the Grey Catbird. Yes, I had seen it, but for all of sixty seconds, no more, and no I had not managed to get my own photos of it which I always try to do to illustrate my blog. I felt something was lacking in my catbird experience and I felt the urge to do something about it.

A conversation with Badger, later in the day, informed me that Andy, a fellow Oxonbirder was thinking of driving down to see the catbird on Saturday. I sent Andy a text telling him if he wanted company I would be happy to come with him. This would work well for both of us as we could share the petrol costs and I would be saved from having to drive all the way to Cornwall and back again for a second time in the space of three days.

Andy sent a text that night saying he was up for it and we agreed to make a rendezvous at 5am on Saturday morning, outside his house in Oxford. A long drive ensued, initially on a night and fog shrouded Motorway that brought us into early morning sunshine around Bristol and from then on the day progressed into one of mild temperatures and a quintessential, beautiful, autumnal stillness as we headed for west Cornwall.

Paul, yet another Oxonbirder had also made a second trip to Treeve Moor, earlier in the night, to take his wife Vicky to see the catbird at first light and was already there. He sent us a text at around 7.30am to let us know the catbird was still in the brambles and small willows in its favoured field and our one big anxiety, that it might have departed overnight was instantly banished, and we drove on in some excitement and, let's face it, relief. Andy was going to see a lifer, almost definitely and I would have a chance for better views of the catbird and hopefully some photos.

Paul had mentioned that there were not a lot of people looking at the catbird but when we arrived at Treeve Moor at around 10am, it was to a very different situation. We found a field now crammed with cars, many more than two days ago when I had made my previous visit. I suppose being a Saturday I should not have been surprised but I was slightly taken aback by the sheer numbers of cars and birders.

Crowd scenes

In double quick time we got ourselves and all our birding equipment together and armed with the knowledge from my previous visit I led the way down the path to the lower part of Treeve Moor, as this would put the sun at our back and was the best place to view the catbird if it popped up out of its hiding place in the brambles and willows. When we got to the designated area it was all too obvious that many other birders had the same idea and so we squeezed into any available space in a long line of birders standing behind telescopes and huge lenses mounted on massive tripods, all pointing at the nearby bank of brambles running across the rough pastureland, some metres in front of us.

The Grey Catbird commuted between the brambles in the
foreground and the large blackthorn clump on the horizon

I was prepared for a long wait, just like last time, but it was less than ten minutes before I heard the catbird calling, a grating wheezy call, somewhat different to the quieter 'meowing' calls it uttered two days ago. Seconds later it popped up near the top of the brambles and there it was, its grey head and chest, looking pale, almost silver in the morning's bright sun, with a black skullcap on its crown and prominent dark eyes in its plain grey face. 

It perched, neck craned, in full view and close. Andy had his lifer, and I had my second and much better view of this celebrated bird, viewed to an accompaniment of volleys of clicks from camera shutters. 

Andy scoping the Grey Catbird -a lifer!

The catbird stood on top of some bramble leaves looking around, as if in astonishment at discovering so many people, and after two minutes dropped back into the heart of the brambles and out of sight. 

We waited and the calls came again from a few metres further along and out it popped onto the top of the brambles once more, calling its distinctive alarm note. It was never visible for very long but  enough for all of us to enjoy it and take yet more images.

We stood quietly, conversing in whispers as we awaited the catbird's next appearance. At least I should say most of us managed to remain quiet, but there always seems to be someone who cannot. In this case it was one very trying Welsh gentleman who kept up a constant stream of verbal drivel much to my and others annoyance.It brought a whole new dimension to the phrase 'Welsh Rabbit.' But apart from him everyone behaved impeccably and thankfully he left after he was satisfied he had enough images and equanimity returned.

So time passed for the next two hours with the catbird, every so often, emerging from its hiding places in the dense, low growing brambles running alongside the ditch dividing two fields.  

The most memorable encounter for me was when the catbird found a sheltered spot in the sun and perched low down on a fence wire in the lee of a bramble clump and settled for at least five minutes on the wire, fully in the open, and fluffed its feathers up in contentment as it sat in the warm sun. Brilliant. I could not ask for more.

Watching its behaviour I saw it was feasting on blackberries and various other berries from the different shrubs growing amongst the brambles, and would dive into and contort itself in the vegetation hunting for that one particular berry to gobble down. Its diet is said to be fifty percent berries and fruit but it is an omnivore, also consuming earthworms, beetles. spiders, ants and other invertebrates when the opportunity arises.

It spent most of its time in the brambles near us but towards noon it flew across the fields to a dense and large bank of blackthorn and bramble on the far side where we watched it displaying the same behaviour but this time we watched through our scopes rather than cameras.

The opportunities to see it perched in the open on a number of occasions allowed me to study it in a bit more detail. I noted its black bill was relatively thin and not as substantial as, for instance, a Blackbird's. Its prominent dark eyes were not black as I at first thought but seen in the sunlight were dark brown while its undertail coverts were the chestnut hue of Horse Chestnut 'conkers'. Its tail was black and the feathers quite broad, whilst its wing feathers were browner in tone.When it called it was usually invisible but the calls seemed to pressage its pending appearance, perched at the top of the brambles in the open, and the calls today were different to the thinner and quieter 'meowing' notes of two day's ago. I wondered if the calls today, stronger and more grating were expressing mild anxiety at the presence of so many more birders than two days ago. Although it was virtually exclusively eating berries at those times when I could observe it, on one occasion the catbird did catch a small flying insect which it snatched from the air, flying up from where it was perched. 

We had arrived at Treeve Moor around 10am and for two hours the Grey Catbird put on a bravura performance for such a normally retiring bird that loves deep cover and concealment. Not today, however, as it showed itself regularly to the delight of one and all.

We left the catbird at around twelve noon and went to nearby St Buryan to restore some energy with a pasty and coffee from the local farm shop and then we did some general birding around Porthgwarra, meeting friends from both Oxfordshire and Sussex and finding a couple of Yellow browed Warblers and a Black Redstart.

We decided on one more visit to the Grey Catbird later in the afternoon and the last I saw of it was as it perched, relaxed on top of some blackthorn twigs, sitting in almost contemplative fashion looking across the fields as it became silhouetted against an afternoon sun that was turning the sky from blue to gold.

Today I really felt I had done the Grey Catbird justice.