I had spent a pleasant few hours watching and photographing Bearded Tits at Westhay NNR in Somerset on Monday and was relaxing on Tuesday morning composing a blog about it. At lunch time I consulted my RBA (Rare Bird Alert) app to discover some pretty sensational news. A Tennessee Warbler, only the fifth ever for Britain, had been discovered on Tuesday, the 29th of September, at a place called Burravoe on Yell, which is the island lying between Mainland and Unst in Shetland.
Tennessee Warblers breed in the boreal forest zone from southern Yukon and British Columbia in Canada, Alaska and northwest Montana east to Newfoundland and New England in the USA. They migrate to spend the winter from southern Mexico south to Colombia, northern Ecuador and Venezuela in South America. Most migrate inland but some reach their wintering grounds by crossing the Gulf of Mexico and it is these that are probably prone to being blown off course and across the Atlantic
The four accepted records for Britain so far are as follows:
In fact I would have been there but my usual accommodation on Unst had cancelled my annual two week booking as they decided to remain closed during the covid pandemic and suggested I find an alternative, which sadly was not possible as everywhere was already booked. Never mind there is always next year!
I was hardly surprised to receive a phone call a little later on Tuesday from Mark and I knew exactly what he would say.
'Do you need Tennessee Warbler?'
'Yes but it's in Shetland and not likely to hang around and also we need to bear in mind the current restrictions in Scotland with reference to the virus'.
'I have checked and we will not be contravening any laws if we drive to Aberdeen and take Wednesday's overnight ferry to Lerwick. I don't plan to stay for a night on Shetland but come back on the ferry on Thursday night and then drive home. Interested?
'Sure'.
'OK'.
He went on. 'I suggest we set off from my place at 7am on Wednesday and check for news if the warbler is still there as we drive north. If it is we carry on and book ourselves on the ferry en route and also arrange a hire car from Bolts in Lerwick. If the news on the warbler is negative we turn back and come home.We should know one way or the other by 9am so we will not have travelled too far north'.
Mark also told me that quite a number of the top twitchers he knew had already booked flights so as to arrive first thing Wednesday on Shetland. As far as we were concerned this was prohibitively expensive, involving large sums of money, in some cases in excess of £900.00. True they would be there one day earlier but we decided to take a chance and arrive one day later at a much lower cost. It was a huge gamble on our part but that is what twitching is all about. A weighing of the odds and taking a chance you will get lucky.One thing is for sure, I would have no chance of seeing a Tennessee Warbler if I remained in Oxfordshire.
I got up at 4.30am and drove to Mark's home in Bedfordshire. At 7am we headed north up the M1. Little did we know of the emotional turmoil that was about to engulf us.Twitching is like this, there is no real flat line of calm but a constant, wearying, seesawing of emotions, elation one moment, and despair the next. It doesn't manifest itself externally but inside keeps your mind in a constant state of anxiety and fretfulness.
Regular consultations of RBA, as we drove, produced no news but it wouldn't as it was way too early but such was our anxious state we checked anyway. No news is good news or so I tried to convince myself. In the cold light of morning, as the initial excitement wore off both of us came to realise just how monumental the risk was that we were taking. At 8am there was still nothing about the warbler. Further consultations of RBA, about every five minutes if I am honest, prolonged the agony and served to raise the anxiety levels even further. At 8.30am still nothing, then at 8.40am there was news of the warbler on RBA.
Shetland no sign of the 1w TENNESSEE WARBLER at Burravoe in gardens in 30 mins of searching.
It is hard to describe the depths one's spirit can sink to in such situations. Stunned into silence by this bad news each of us inwardly questioned what we should do. Twitching is all about optimism, often involving blind hope over reality. I finally voiced what we were all thinking. 'Let's carry on and see if any more news comes out. It is still early and they have only searched for the warbler for thirty minutes. Let's give it until 10 am.'
We drove on and it commenced raining. The motorway became a haze of spray from the many vehicles sharing the road with us as we headed steadily northwards but now with much less cause for optimism as the cold reality of likely failure looked us straight in the eye.The adventure seemed over before it had hardly begun.
With no further news about the warbler by 9.30am we stopped at a Motorway Services for a coffee and a further discussion about what to do.
'Maybe stop here and wait for news good or bad?' Mark ventured.
We met another group of birders in the same quandary as us. We knew them from previous twitches.They were from the Midlands. We stood amongst the wreckage of humanity that manifests itself in such places and frankly were too dazed by the news to decide what to do but in the end we chose to press on whilst our friends from the Midlands opted to wait in the living hell that comprises most Motorway Services in Britain
As we walked out of the services Mark consulted RBA one more time. It was 1009. The message he now saw was very different and sent our spirits soaring skywards
Shetland TENNESSEE WARBLER 1w again Yell at Burravoe in sycamores in back garden of house with blue container on drive at 1005am.
Mark shouted the news to the guys from the Midlands as we raced to the car. From an all time low we were now buzzing with excitement.We were in with a chance. The warbler had not flown off overnight. Just one more night and we would have an excellent opportunity of seeing it.
Phone calls to Northlink and Bolts followed as we continued north and got us booked on the ferry and a hire car from Bolts awaiting us tomorrow morning at Lerwick.
The miles reeled away as we drove through the relentless rain. Worryingly we could get no further news of the warbler and after two hours of no news Mark began to ring people he knew that were already at the warbler site and looking for it, to find out just what was going on. It was not good news that we got and our spirits, not for the first time took a severe downward trajectory.
The sighting at 1005 turned out to be for a few seconds only of what may have been the warbler and the bird in question was seen by only five people out of the fifty present, and all five who saw it, bar one, were none too sure whether it was the Tennessee Warbler or a Chiffchaff. Tennessee Warblers are the most phylloscopus looking of the American Warblers and brief views can easily be confused with a Chiffchaff.
The bird had not been seen since and the weather was atrocious, with rain and a forty mile per hour wind. An inquest began into the competence of the birders involved and no one seemed too sure of whether the identification was valid. The lack of further sightings was also worrying but with the foul conditions it was hardly surprising.The bird could be lying low out of the wind but we did not know that for certain. What we did know as we headed inexorably north was that sooner rather than later we had to make a decision as to whether to pull out of the trip, cancel the bookings we had made and turn south, defeated.
By now we had crossed the border into Scotland and decided that as we had got this far we may as well carry on. It was not a happy ship as it looked like the identification may have been wrong or just too brief, so we were back where we began, not knowing if the warbler was there or not. We sank into a quiet despondency, silently watching the rain lashed countryside pass us by, our minds racing to find something positive to cling onto and give some hope.
Now committed to head for Aberdeen, all was well with the driving but just before Glasgow we came to the back of a huge, two mile long jam of cars and lorries covering all four lanes of the motorway. For an hour we edged forward, agonisingly slowly.Worse, time was running short to get to the ferry that was waiting in a still very distant Aberdeen.If this traffic chaos went on for much longer we would have no choice but to abort the trip anyway as we would miss the ferry.
Fortunately for us the police began to reopen the road, the congestion cleared and we then made good time to Aberdeen. On the way another metaphorical bombshell arrived with the news of a first year female Siberian Thrush being found at Kilminning in Fife. Here was an unexpected opportunity to see another mega. We were so tempted to divert but we were way past Fife, beyond Dundee in fact and it would be almost dark by the time we got there and anyway we would miss the ferry. Mark said the thrush would never stick and would be gone tomorrow. Siberian Thrushes have an almost mythical status and are very hard to see and vagrants such as this one rarely remain for long, sometimes just hours.They are a forest dwelling thrush and skulk in deep cover, incredibly shy and fleeing at the slightest disturbance, so to see one here is a minor miracle and very much to be desired, as there have only been twelve recorded in Britain excluding this one.The last one in Fife was in 1954! We resolved to try and see it, should it still be there when we returned from Lerwick as our route home from Aberdeen would take us very near to Kilminning. We could easily make a detour once we arrived back from Shetland. It had only to remain at Kilminning for two more days. Some hope!
We also spoke to several birding friends, as we headed onwards, who had paid an awful lot of money to fly to Shetland today and had yet to see the Tennessee Warbler. Booked on return flights they had no choice but to leave Shetland not having seen the warbler. There had apparently been no sign of it since the one and only report in the morning. A lot of twitchers were very unhappy and a lot less well off but being obsessive they would return if the warbler was refound and spend similar large amounts of money again.
Once in Aberdeen we parked the car for free in a side road near the ferry and walked to the terminal, checked in and were on board in no time. Such a change from last time I was on the ferry, with the covid regulations now in force. The vessel seemed almost empty, with the comparatively few people on board being mainly birders, either commencing a birding break on Shetland or, like us, hoping to just spend a day seeing the Tennessee Warbler. Face masks had to be worn at all times on the vessel apart from when eating or drinking, the bar was closed and the cafe was operating a restricted menu with a one way walk in system. No one was allowed to sleep on the seats or on the floor. There was a depressing feel to the ship and not the usual buzz of excitment and chatter in the lounge that comes at the beginning of the journey.
The crossing was for once, smooth and we arrived into a grey and windy Lerwick harbour at 7am. Bolts were there to meet us and soon we headed off to Toft to get the 8.15am short ferry crossing to Ulsta on Yell. Burravoe is just a few miles from Ulsta and we soon arrived at the location in Burravoe where the Tennessee Warbler had been seen so well on Tuesday.
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| The Tennessee Warbler was seen in the garden behind the first yellow house |
Rather than the location given on RBA we were directed, by a local birder, to a small cul de sac between two houses which allowed us to look into a small back garden where stood a single sycamore tree and some bushes.This, we were told, was often favoured by the warbler and was probably our best bet at finding it - if it was here at all.
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| The sycamore tree initially favoured by the Tennessee Warbler |
For the time being we forgot the cameras and just went with our bins.If we located the warbler we would get the cameras from the car parked nearby.The absolute priority was to find the warbler and see it.
Weatherwise the morning was quite pleasant for Shetland. Maybe a little windy but nowhere near as bad as yesterday and it was not raining. I stood with the others looking at the sycamore, willing the warbler to appear but of course it didn't. As time passed and nothing appeared, most of the ten other birders present gave up and went to look at the row of trees and bushes in the garden of the house with the blue container, which is where the warbler had first been discovered on Tuesday. I stayed where I was, now almost convinced that we had gambled and lost but maybe, just maybe, something would happen. There was no sign of any bird in the tree apart from a couple of Starlings that soon flew off.
Mark left me to get his camera and go to photograph a Yellow browed Warbler in the trees in the original garden. I was now totally on my own. Call it stubbornness, cussedness or what you will, I was cold, tired and more than a little downcast but here I was on Shetland and the one thing consistent about Shetland at this time of year is there are birds and you know there is the possibility of a really good bird turning up literally anywhere at anytime. I feel I should indulge in a little self congratulation, in that I know from previous experience you can stand in front of a tree for hours in Shetland and sooner or later birds will reveal themselves.It is just a case of having the patience and courage not to be distracted.So there was no chance of giving up or giving in.Yet.
For about forty minutes little birdlife presented itself but then a nice flock of twenty plus Twite landed on some nearby telephone wires and perched there for a few minutes before flying off. A Raven, huge, glossy and black flew overhead, calling with deep, staccato croaks. A Snipe, disturbed from its hiding place flew in the wind, high against the grey clouds, alarmed, calling loudly and harshly.
I turned my gaze back to the sycamore tree and its constantly moving, wind blasted leaves. A small movement in a contradictory direction to the leaves caught my eye. It was a small bird at the top of the tree, silhouetted against the pale sky. My bins confirmed it was a Yellow browed Warbler, its grey green upperparts, long yellow supercilium and prominent wing bar identifying it as it flitted amongst the leaves. Although now almost common on Shetland in autumn they remain nice to see and at last I began to feel I had started to bird in earnest. I watched until it was lost in the multitude of leaves that dwarfed it but then it revealed itself once more before disappearing again.
I remained here on my own as the others continued to scrutinise the trees at the house with the blue container. Another birder joined me and we stood, self consciously socially distancing ourselves, each on one side of the cul de sac and regarding the tree. Such strange times but this is our world now.
I saw the Yellow browed once more and this time there appeared with it a larger warbler. A Chiffchaff? I looked through my bins as it examined the leaves of the sycamore, directly in front of me. It was too yellow and bright for a Chiffchaff. A Willow Warbler? Not with dark legs surely? I alerted my companion to it but he could not find it in the tree. It was difficult to locate as it would disappear under the large leaves, picking off minute prey on the undersides of the leaves, spending some time examining each leaf thoroughly before moving on.
Eventually it re-appeared from under whatever leaf had gained its attention and I could see its throat and uppper breast were bright yellow. I have very little experience of Tennessee Warblers in winter having only seen a few in Colombia in October but became ever more certain this was the Tennessee Warbler. Its feeding behaviour was markedly different to a phylloscopus warbler, being more tit like, as it would hang upside down picking at the undersides of the leaves.You could almost call it acrobatic and I have never seen a Chiffchaff or Willow Warbler behave in such a manner. When it was upside down its belly and undertail coverts gleamed silky white, even in the dull morning light and again this feature was not one to be found on any Chiffchaff or Willow Warbler. It looked reminiscent of a Wood Warbler at times but obviously was not.
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| These images show some of the identification features of the Tennessee Warbler. Silky white belly and undertail coverts, pale tips to the primaries, fine, pointed bill, short tail and the acrobatic, tit like feeding technique |
I now thought this must definitely be the Tennessee Warbler but before calling Mark to come and see it I was determined to try and see the white fringes to the primary feather tips which were a diagnostic identification feature. Sadly I was not given the time to settle in my mind that this was, one hundred percent, the warbler as it disappeared once more into the leaves and out of sight.I determined to wait for one more sighting to be absolutely sure.
A few minutes later a birder standing at the side of a field that abutted the bottom of the garden called to me that he had seen the Tennessee Warbler. It could only be the bird I had been watching so it was confirmed. The main point however, was that the Tennessee Warbler was still here and our long fraught journey to this remote location had not been in vain. I joined the birder in the field as quickly as possible but the warbler had disappeared once again, into the foliage. We waited but only saw a Goldcrest and a Yellow browed Warbler.
We alerted the others who came to join us and soon the warbler was refound in the sycamore tree but viewed from the cul de sac where I had first stood and we returned there to watch it. Most were still circumspect about the identification, unsure of what a Tennessee Warbler really looked like but Mark, myself and the other birder were adamant it was the bird. Mark took photos of it and there, incontravertibly were the main diagnostic features of a Tennessee Warbler, clearly to be seen in the images.
I left the others and raced back to the car to get my camera. Returning, the warbler was still feeding on 'our' side of the tree and in appalling light but I took some images and they too showed just about all the diagnostic features of a first winter Tennessee Warbler.
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| Note the short tail and the neat pale fringes to the primary feathers |
Its bright yellow throat and upper breast were really noticeable even in the dull light and contrasted with the white of the lower breast, belly and undertail coverts.The flanks, basically white, were suffused with a yellow tinge and distinct yellow supercilia extended over the eyes, especially prominent to the rear of the eyes. Its upperparts were yellowish green with a narrow wing bar formed by the creamy white tips to the greater coverts. The primaries were fringed with white at the tips and, something I was unaware of, the tail was markedly short, almost out of proportion to its body.The bill too was less substantial than either a Willow Warbler or Chiffchaff, appearing more tack like, pointed and delicate and its legs and feet were dark grey.
Still the debate continued amongst our ten fellow birders about the bird's identity but we knew this was the bird and eventually by dint of showing them photos we had taken and discussing the identification features they too finally felt convinced.
We watched it for another twenty or so minutes as it fed constantly in its unique way, upending tit like to examine the undersides of the sycamore leaves. Finally it flew across the intervening gardens and a small field to the trees in the garden of the house with the blue container.
Les and myself decided to go and see an Arctic Warbler that was frequenting another garden of trees and bushes near Gutcher, the ferry terminal for Unst. It was a twenty minute drive and we arrived to find a man in a SUV already watching it on the wall of the garden.Unfortunately it dropped into some rosa bushes as we got out of our car but after standing for just a short while we found it again, feeding low down in some dead vegetation. We gave it ten minutes but were keen to get back to Mark as a White's Thrush had been found at Quendale on Mainland. I have never seen one in Britain so was keen to try my luck
We drove back to get Mark and found that the Tennessee Warbler was now performing really well in the sycamores at the house with the blue container.We stood on a track by the garden, waited and sure enough it popped out every so often but was a total nightmare to follow and photograph in the constantly moving leaves. Finding it was again made comparatively easy by looking for the gleaming white underparts as it upended and which stood out against the dark branches and twigs of the sycamores but keeping it in focus and following its erratic movements was a whole different matter but somehow we managed it.
As we stood waiting for the next viewing opportunity it became apparent that an arrival of Yellow browed Warblers was in progress.You are never far from the sea in Shetland and these tiny birds were making landfall and then making their way inland through the bushes and stunted trees running up to the garden.We must have seen at least a dozen in the hour we were here, many making their distinctive, urgent psssweet call as they flicked through the leaves and twigs.There is such a thrill to see migration such as this in action and to crown it all, today there was the jewel of a Tennessee Warbler.
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| c. Mark |
At just before 1pm we made our way back to the ferry to Mainland, noticing the wind was strengthening and rain was imminent. It had been predicted and soon it was heavy rain and wind we had to contend with. We made our way to Quendale to look for the White's Thrush which had not been reported for hours.We checked the sunken garden where it had first been seen this morning and then flushed, only to fly away and not be seen again. A few Blackcaps, a Lesser Whitethroat and a Goldcrest was all I could find and we got very wet in the process. It was obvious it was a lost cause and we had given it our best shot. It was so frustrating to be within such a good chance of seeing this fabled bird but it was not to be. Our day on Shetland was over.
On a wet and very windy Thursday evening we boarded the huge ferry with some foreboding as the captain warned us of very heavy seas and a rough crossing to Aberdeen. He was not wrong. Eating in the cafe was a trial of will over the lurching, swaying vessel. Plates of food, glasses of wine and bottles of beer went flying as the ship was tossed from side to side by the mighty sea. We retired early to our cabin but sleep was impossible as the ship rolled and pitched so much, you were constantly thrown about on your bunk. I lay there listening to the ship groaning and mysterious clunks and thuds coming from the car deck below, conscious of the vast might of the North Sea, rolling with unimaginable force under our temporary home. Finally sleep came as the seas calmed. In Aberdeen the morning was still and sunny and even better the Siberian Thrush had been reported this morning from Kilminning.We had a very good chance to see it now and drove to Dundee, crossing the mighty River Tay on the huge road bridge and entered The Kingdom of Fife.
We made it to Kilminning at just after 9.30am and joined other birders spread across a large car parking area looking over to some rosa bushes with elders and rowan trees growing behind them.
This was where the thrush had been seen twice this morning. Typically it was very elusive and views of it since its discovery were always brief and often obscured but that would be more than enough. For years I have dreamed about seeing this iconic thrush of the northern forests but never dreamed it would be on the mainland of Britain as they are very much a bird of the offshore remote islands that surround Scotland.
It was now or never. All we could do was stand and wait and of course hope. A Blackbird flying into the rowan trees set the pulse racing but only briefly. Blackcaps came and went in the elders as did Robins and Goldfinches but of the star bird there was no sign. Then a voice from behind me said, 'I can see it. It's perched in the rowan to the left of the elder tree'.I raised my bins and by some miracle landed them exactly on the spot and there it was, perched and facing away from me amongst the rowan berries. An unremarkable brown bird, with a row of buff spots across each of its wings, smaller and slighter than a Blackbird with a messy face of grizzled buff and brown. It was there for seconds before dropping down into cover and many missed it as it was over far too quickly. We waited for another lengthy period and then it appeared once again in an elder tree next to the rowan, eating elderberries. This time it was facing me and I could clearly see the large buff supercilia and heavily scaled buff breast with dark fringes to each feather. It peered out at us for a minute or two and then turned and dropped into cover but this time it had granted enough time for almost everyone to see it
What a fantastic end to our monumental three day twitch.
Two megas in two days and both totally unprecedented.We waited for another appearance of the thrush but it was not to be. Three hours passed with not a sign but we were entertained by two Yellow browed Warblers and the intermittent sight of a Common Rosefinch, an unusual bird here, its grey body appearing pale in the afternoon sun as it fed on elderberries.To cap an all round great two days of birding a female Hawfinch was found feeding on, well, haws, in a secluded corner behind where the thrush had been seen.
And so our remarkable odyssey came to an end as reports came through of a Pallas's Grasshopper Warbler and a Lanceolated Warbler showing well back on Shetland. If only I could have stayed on Shetland one more day but then we would not have seen the Siberian Thrush. It's impossible to be in two places at once but sometimes you wish you could.
Cracking write up. Very enjoyable.
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