Mark rang me later that day to discuss the situation. By making contact with various birding friends I had deduced that the bird was a first of its kind for Britain and rumours suggested it was a New World Warbler and possibly a Canada Warbler. We left it at that, intrigued to see what might happen. In the evening Mark rang me again to tell me the bird was now being mooted as a Yellow bellied Flycatcher, which was not only a first for Britain but also for the Western Palearctic.This elevated the situation to an altogether much more sensational level. Stratospheric would be a good word. This was about as mega as any bird can get that finds itself on the wrong side of the Atlantic.
Yellow bellied Flycatchers are normally to be found breeding in wet and damp woods across Canada and northeastern USA and migrate to spend the winter in southern Mexico and Central America. They belong to the Empidonax genus of flycatchers, the species of which are notoriously hard to separate but the Yellow bellied Flycatcher is arguably the easiest to identify from its closely similar relatives.
I was keen to go to see it, as was Mark, but these are dark times we are living through due to the Covid-19 pandemic and I was worried about travelling and maybe becoming part of the problem for the good folk of Tiree. I even tweeted something to this effect but some research re-assured me that travelling to Scotland and Tiree in particular was possible, provided I adhered to all the guidelines issued by the Scottish Government, and indeed Tiree was currently inundated with visitors such as general tourists and windsurfers - Tiree being a popular windsurfing destination in Britain.
The next morning, Wednesday, Mark rang again and we discussed the logistics of getting to Tiree by Thursday. As usual it was complicated but eventually a plan was put together. We would need to meet at Mark's home on Wednesday evening and drive north for nine hours to get to Oban, board the ferry that departed at 7.30 am on Thursday and arrived in Tiree, three and a half hours later at 11am.Then we would need to get to Balephuil some eight and a half miles from the ferry terminal at Scarinish Pier.
Looking at it on paper it seemed relatively straightforward but as always happens it never is quite so. Meeting up and driving north presented no problem but our plan to book the car on the ferry was thwarted by the fact there was no space on the Thursday sailing. So we booked on as foot passengers which thankfully was achieved despite the vessel being restricted to a third of its normal capacity due to Covid-19 social distancing restrictions. Now at least we were guaranteed arrival on Tiree and a major hurdle to our ambitions was circumnavigated. However we now had to work out how to get to Balephuil but Mark managed to reserve the last rental car available on the island.We were almost there but due to the ferry sailing times we needed to book accommodation for one night on the island.This presented much more of a problem. In fact it was insurmountable as everywhere on the island was fully booked. In the end we gave up and decided we would sleep in the car overnight. Not the most enticing prospect but there was no alternative and this certainly was not going to stand in the way of us seeing this mega of megas
Incidentally if I did get to see this bird it would be the third Empidonax species I have seen in Britain, the other two being an Alder Flycatcher in Cornwall and an Acadian Flycatcher in Kent.
Later the same day the identity of the flycatcher was suggested as a Least Flycatcher, which would be another ultra rare bird but it was confirmed as a Yellow bellied Flycatcher by Julian Hough, an American bird expert, looking at some mouthwatering photos taken of it by John Bowler, the finder and RSPB Officer for Tiree. John checks his garden every day for migrants and it was him who made this sensational find in his garden but he was fearful of letting out news in case it upset the local community.He does live on Tiree after all and is the representative for the RSPB who rely on the cooperation and goodwill of local crofters to farm sympathetically in order to allow Corncrakes and various wading birds to breed successfully.
The news apparently got out via another party and once out that was it.There was now no going back.The first twitchers booked flights immediately even though the species of bird had not been fully confirmed by then and they saw it on Wednesday, their gamble paying off big time as they viewed a by now confirmed Yellow bellied Flycatcher doing its thing in the willows, small trees and bushes that surrounded John's and his neighbour's gardens. Incidentally it had been at this exact location almost ten years ago that I twitched another very rare American bird, a Northern Parula Warbler, also found by John in his remarkable garden, and which is one of only a very few gardens on the island that has any semblance of tree cover.
As arranged I met Mark at 7pm at his home, we loaded his car with our bins, cameras, clothing for all eventualities, some food and anything else needed for an overnight stay on Tiree.We shut the boot of the car and the adventure began, heading north in the busy rush of traffic on the M1 to hopefully a rendezvous the next day with a very special bird.
We made two stops for coffee and to stretch our legs which served to partially alleviate the boredom of our long overnight journey. We crossed the border at just after midnight, drove along eerily empty motorways around the City of Glasgow, its illuminated urban sprawl spread out on either side and wound our way along the western shore of Loch Lomond. Many Red Deer were feeding by the roadside, hardly visible in the unlit darkness and we had to maintain a constant vigil so as to avoid any unfortunate collisions which would do severe damage to the car and also the unfortunate deer. A brief glimpse of a Pine Marten was a minor bonus as we pressed onwards on deserted roads and arrived in Oban at 3am, hours too early to board the Calmac ferry to Tiree.
We parked in a side street above the ferry terminal and tried to sleep for a couple of hours. I could only doze as I was too excited. Twitching always gets me this way, a combination of excitement and anxiety churning in my head, thoughts buzzing away that will not be denied. We were a long way from home and taking a huge gamble as it was by no means certain the flycatcher would still be there when dawn broke. We were now just a few hours away from knowing our fate.There was no going back. We were committed to see this through.
Slowly the time passed and at 5.30am, thankful to leave the car, we walked down to the ferry terminal to find there were already other birders waiting there. It was another forty five minutes before the check in opened at 6.15am but it was good to get out of the car, breath fresh air, and to stand and stretch cramped limbs after hours of confinement in the car.
We donned face masks and entered the terminal building as it opened to check us in and then waited upstairs in the departure lounge for boarding time. It was all rather surreal and strange with seats divided into sections of three, two to be kept free and one to sit in. Like something out of a second rate sci fi movie we all sat in our segregated places, tired and morose at this early hour, face masks hiding any expression.
Once on board we stowed our gear and went up on deck where it was possible to remove the face mask, feel safe and breath properly once more.The dawn had broken and slowly the vessel's propellors churned the seawater and we slipped away from the pier and left a grey Oban behind us but with the promise of a soon to improve morning as the sun commenced to rise beyond the mountains that dominate the town.
A definite sense of apprehension descended on both us and the twenty or so other birders as we sailed towards a now even more uncertain rendezvous with a flycatcher. Everyone was trying to hide their disappointment at the lack of positive news by being too cheerful and upbeat but we knew in our hearts it was a sham.We were nervous, edgy, constantly checking pagers and phones for any good news. This was the moment when it could all go wrong. There was nothing we could do but wait and hope. At around 9.30am the news came through that the flycatcher had just been seen in the garden. It was still there and apparently showing really well. It was as if a magician had lifted a cloth from a top hat and produced a white rabbit. The news spread through our ranks and we broke into smiles as the tension within us was dissipated by jokes and banter. We were in with a more than even chance of success.The long odds we had gambled with were going in our favour but we still had one and a half hours sailing to go so we got coffee and rolls from the cafe and watched the sea and the timeless and forever beautiful scenery pass us by. The sea was smooth and a tiny islet we passed had an adult White tailed Eagle as its centrepiece, the great bird standing proud on its grass mound with Shags and gulls eyeing it warily from a respectful distance. Further on a raft of Manx Shearwaters rose, stiff winged from the sea and planed away, a dark squadron, forming up and moving across the steely blue surface of the sea. A Great Skua, bulky and menacing flew heavily past us and another appeared much closer a little later, its white wing flashes shining bright in the morning sunlight. Porpoises and Common Dolphins put in brief appearances, easy to see in the calm sea. I felt optimistic and that it was going to be a good day.
We made a brief stop at the Island of Coll to offload cars and passengers and then it was onwards to Tiree, an hour's sailing away but already its low lying profile and white sand beaches, illuminated by sunshine, were visible from the ferry. Reports on social media had said there would be a police presence at Scarinish, waiting to check visiting birders on arrival to ensure we were all in order and complying with the current Covid-19 restrictions.We were apprehensive about what awaited us but there was no police of any sort to check us, not that we had anything to hide. After a brief wait on the pier for the car traffic to leave the ferry we were allowed to walk up the jetty to find our hire car, waiting for us in the small car park as promised, with the key in the ignition.
I had got directions to Balephuil from the internet before leaving home.It was just eight miles away and I navigated as Mark drove our tiny hire car along the single carriageway road and within twenty minutes we found the lane that led up to John Bowler's house.There were already birders at the bottom of the lane waiting for a bus to collect and take them back to Scarinish.They had come on an earlier private boat charter from Ardnamurchan and had seen the flycatcher. They told us to drive up the lane and park in John's next door neighbours front yard.
This we did and were met by John who asked us to wait while another group of birders took their last looks at the flycatcher and got their stuff together before leaving the line of small trees and bushes beside the rough track. It was a case of managing the numbers and no more than fifteen were allowed at any one time to line up along the lane, so as to be able to maintain social distance from each other and as an extra precaution all of us were instructed to wear a face mask even though we were outside.
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| The track where we stood to await the arrival of the flycatcher in the bushes and trees on the right hand side.It would also frequent the willows and the fence at the far end of the track |
John explained to us that the flycatcher had been showing very well this morning and we would definitely see it although there might be a little wait until it appeared. We duly spread out and stood quietly on one side of the narrow track, opposite the bushes and trees that stood just feet in front of us, waiting for any sign of movement in the dense mass of branches and leaves. For some time there was little to excite us. A flicker in the trees suggested a small bird moving and then, suddenly there it was, the Yellow bellied Flycatcher, that had been a constant presence in our thoughts during the long drive north and the ferry crossing from Oban. Our dreams became reality as it appeared low down, right in front of us and apparently fearless, perching boldly on branches and stems of plants beside the track. It was not especially hyperactive but perched and then looked about for some seconds, searching for flying insects which it followed by moving its head, before sometimes flying out to seize them. I was reminded more of a small robin than flycatcher by its diminutive size, shape and behaviour. Its head was large and rounded with a distinct peak at the rear of its crown, while its body was sparrow sized, small, compact, and short tailed.
Its plumage was olive green on the upperparts and a dull yellowish white below, the yellow most prominent on its throat and down its central belly. Its eyes were large and bright, again reminiscent of a robin but each eye was surrounded by a distinctive white orbital ring. Its bill was broad and flattened with the lower mandible entirely orange.The most striking feature about the bird was its black wings each of which were crossed by two prominent wingbars formed by the large buff white tips of both the greater and median coverts. Its inner flight feathers, the secondaries, were fringed with buff white on the leading edges, for two thirds of their exposed length which created a distinct pale area on the closed wing and the tertials were each prominently fringed and tipped white, the sum of all this creating an overall striped appearance to its wings .When it turned on its perch to face us we could see the prominent lemon yellow streak down its lower breast and belly from whence it gets its name All in all it was a very attractive little bird with its stripey white and black wings and moss green plumage which, judging by its fresh appearance, made this individual a first year bird
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| The last two images courtesy of my birding pal Mark |
My initial view of the flycatcher when it first arrived was of it perched and facing towards me on a low branch of a tree but it soon flew off and was gone from view.
John told us not to worry as it would be back and give us really close views. We kept quiet, gave it space and it duly re-appeared and flew low down to perch on an umbellifer, almost at ground level. Camera shutters volleyed out and the flycatcher did its stuff for five minutes as we were transported to birding heaven, watching this vagrant bird going about its now extraordinary existence on the wrong side of the Atlantic.
For the next hour the flycatcher put on a performance the like of which I could not have expected even in the wildest of my dreams and believe me I have some wild ones these days, what with Covid-19 and all the anxiety it brings. At one point the flycatcher was perched no more than five feet from me.
You could hardy fail to get a decent image as it conveniently sat for a minute or so on twig or branch before flying to seize another insect. I would hesitate to call its movements sluggish but they were methodical and it would sit for periods, always low down, looking about for likely flying prey, moving its head up and down and from side to side as it followed the course of flying insects. It moved around the various trees and bushes, perching on slender twigs and fence wires and it was obvious it was maintaining some kind of feeding circuit.Most of its prey, very small gnat like flies from what I could see, were swallowed immediately in flight but on at least one occasion a larger insect was held in its bill until it could perch and then manage to swallow it.
After a couple of hours John requested that we move away to make space for others who would be arriving on various plane charters, which we were more than happy to do.We had done so well and seen the bird so very close and for such long periods we could hardly believe our good fortune.I had heard that yesterday it had been elusive but the exact opposite applied during our visit.We each put £10.00 in the donation bucket by way of thanks.
We got in our car and on John's advice headed for the Farmhouse Cafe, just down the road, for a coffee and something to eat.We sat outside in the sun, surrounded by inquisitive hens and reflected on the past few hours. This is the time I love, when everything has been successfully achieved, all anxieties are dispelled and the rest of the time is there to be enjoyed and spent in reflection.
Suitably revived we went to do some general birding around the island. Golden Plover and Lapwings were feeding in mowed fields whilst Meadow Pipits were ubiquitous, flying from the car and onto fence wires as we slowly drove along. A Common Buzzard perched on a fence post, about the highest perch available on this tree impoverished island as droves of Starlings swept from field to field. Ravens and Hooded Crows wandered amongst the sheep and flocks of Rock Doves flew overhead.
We came to rest by the corner of a lovely white shell sand beach, the shallow sea breaking in gentle waves onto the shore under a blue sky from which shone never ending sunshine. It was truly idyllic and with not another soul to be seen. Far away the hulking Treshnish Isles were indistinct grey shapes in the heat haze.
We were tired, more tired than we cared to acknowledge and it was a joy to collapse on the warm grass and sit listening to the rhythm of the waves on the sand and watch the wading birds that had congregated here. There were the tiny, white, shining forms of Sanderlings, well over a hundred stood right by the sea while hidden amongst the stones further up the beach were a similar number of Ringed Plovers and a few Turnstones.
Amongst the strands of brown, very dead seaweed strewn at the top of the beach Pied and White Wagtails were making a good living, chasing and catching the inummerable flies and Mark found a Northern Wheatear running across the sand, also chasing flies. I lay back on the grass and stretched out a body that had been cramped and tense for so long and fell into a light sleep lulled by a gentle sursurrus of lapping waves on a seashore of pure shell sand
With nowhere to sleep tonight I chanced upon the idea of sleeping rough on the grass under the stars. It was warm and comfortable here on the grass and out of the wind. I decided there and then to do so and put it to the back of my mind until nightfall. Hopeless romantic that I am it seemed such a good idea and pleasant prospect at the time.
We arranged for a socially distanced meal at the Tiree Lodge Hotel that evening and before the meal made a return visit to Balephuil for some more flycatcher action.We were the only ones there but the flycatcher had now become much more elusive and preferred to spend most of its time on the other side of the trees and bushes which were inaccessible from the track where we stood. The few movements we saw in the trees resolved themselves into a male Blackcap and a Lesser Whitethroat. We reckoned the cause of the flycatcher's change of behaviour was due to the sun setting on the far side of the trees and bushes and consequently attracting more insects.Never mind, we did see the flycatcher briefly every so often and had the not inconsiderable bonus of watching a ringtail Hen Harrier flying over the iris filled fields behind us. They breed on nearby Coll but not on Tiree.
After our meal we returned to the beach and I had second thoughts about sleeping rough as I had no sleeping bag but Mark decided he would stay out as he did have a sleeping bag. I would sleep in the car and Mark would sleep in the grass down by the beach.We had learned in the hotel that other birders would also be sleeping rough in fields around and about tonight.
I slept fitfully but managed to get a few hours and at one point got out of the confines of the car to look at the night sky.There is no light pollution here, just total darkness and looking up I could see countless stars above me and the bright shining orb of Mars.The darkness of the sky seemed to meld with the darkness of the land and sea, creating an optical illusion that the stars were almost within touch and it was a small but welcome comfort to view the endless and timeless firmament in a time of so much unrest and uncertainty.
At four am Mark banged on the car window having had enough of the Tiree al fresco sleeping experience.There was now a heavy dew on the grass and it was cold. Worse, there appeared to be a plague of slugs, many of which had gravitated to Mark's sleeping bag. I dozed until the dawn came and we both got out to enjoy a magical sunrise over the sea to the east, watching the golden orange disc of the sun burning through a low lying mist that was rising from the cold ground.
Our ferry departed from Scarinish at 11am and John had said we could return at 8.30am to try and see the flycatcher if it had not disappeared overnight. We amused ourselves in the meantime by going to look at Loch a Phuill and found a pair of Whooper Swans with four well grown cygnets. Back at John's we were again the only ones present and waited for the flycatcher to appear which it soon did but proved on the most part to be elusive apart from one brief, five minute spell when it perched on the side of a small tree and preened in the sunshine. After this it became much harder to find, appearing to have transferred its preference to the trees and bushes we could not access.
And so, at 1030am, we bade a final farewell to this splendid addition to the British List of bird species and made our way to the ferry terminal.Tired, more than a little dishevelled and feeling distinctly frayed at the edges from lack of sleep, every action had to be accomplished slowly. I sat and revived myself with a coffee and a huge hunk of Dundee cake from the Yellow Hare Cafe, on another even more glorious day of sunshine as Tiree did its best to make me feel welcome and tug at my heart.
My grateful thanks go to John Bowler the RSPB Officer for Tiree and to Hayley Douglas who is the Tiree Trust Ranger, as well as to the many islanders who showed such interest in the Yellow bellied Flycatcher and without fail made us feel so welcome.
Postscript
I am pleased to advise that over £1700.00 has been raised so far from birder's donations to the Tiree Community Trust to assist in dealing with Covid-19 on the island.
The trip back on the ferry to Oban was quite eventful for wildlife. We saw the following:
White tailed Eagle,
Golden Eagle
Minke Whale
Common Dolphin
Bottlenose Dolphin
Harbour Porpoise
Otter
The Yellow bellied Flycatcher departed with the first frost that came overnight on 23rd September as there was no sign of it on 24th September. It had stayed for nine days.
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