Valentine's Day found me and Mark (P) embarking on a distinctly unromantic journey to Sussex, enduring the traffic hell of three motorways but with an enticing prospect at the end of our journey.
Mark had been wanting to see two special and rare birds, an American Robin and a Hume's Leaf Warbler, which would be lifers for him and are currently spending the winter months at Eastbourne in Sussex. Unfortunately he was unable to come with me when I went to see them four days ago due to various social commitments, so today was the first day he was free. I was more than happy to accompany him as it would give me another chance to see the American Robin which has rapidly become a favourite of mine and also to revisit my old haunts in Sussex which is never a hardship.
This Monday promised to be sunny in Eastbourne with a strengthening wind but that was all still to come as we departed Oxfordshire at 6am, in the dark, and sunrise only greeted us as we approached the inevitable M25 congestion around Heathrow.
Although slow going until we reached the M23 and turned south for Sussex we chatted the miles away and eventually the looming outline of the South Downs was visible in the distance and an hour later we wound our tortuous way up the narrow roads of a large housing estate until we turned into Hill Road. Parking at the top we made a short walk to the end of the road and the now well known cul de sac from where the American Robin had already been reported this morning.
Compared to my previous visit, when I was confronted with in excess of fifty birders milling around, this morning at 8.30am was a complete and welcome contrast as there were no more than a dozen birders present.
Walking up we found a couple of birders looking over a fence at a cotoneaster bush no more than eight metres away in a front garden that sloped down and away from us and was on the opposite side of the road to that which the thrush had been favouring last Thursday. We enquired of the thrush and were told it had been seen regularly in the bush and had only recently flown off but if we stayed here it would be sure to come back to the cotoneaster, as that is what it had been doing since first light this morning.
We stood and waited, chatting to the two birders, one of whom was Rob, from Wales, who I knew from previous twitches. Rob it was who found another very rare bird last month, a Pacific Diver on a reservoir at Margam in Wales and probably the thrush, according to the residents of Hill Road, had been here for four weeks at least so maybe the two had been blown over the Atlantic by the same storm. Coincidentally I went to see the first ever Pacific Diver to be found in Britain, way back in January 2007, that was discovered at Knaresborough in North Yorkshire and then went on to see an American Robin at Bingley in West Yorkshire the same day.
It's such coincidences that provide an added spice to birding.
It was maybe ten minutes later when the birder next to me exclamed
I can hear it!
I listened and indeed I too could hear various subdued chuckling and tooking notes and then the bird itself flew in from behind the rooftops, still chuckling away to itself and landed on a small leafless ornamental tree next to the cotoneaster, perching openly in front of us, slightly wary and looking around to check all was well.
It was a magnificent sight to see this major rarity perched no more than twenty feet from us, granting us superb views, much better than I got on my last visit here. We were very close to the thrush but it showed little concern, perching and chooking quietly as it flicked its tail upwards, a manifestation of its nervous disposition. It was so similar to a Blackbird in behaviour and very vocal compared to four days ago, regularly making a variety of thrushy sounds, also reminiscent of a Blackbird.
Thirty seconds later it jumped into the cotoneaster and started gobbling down berries. It was obviously well fed as it soon stopped feeding and perched, partially concealed, in the bush
It hopped further into the bush and then was to a certain extent hidden from view by the mass of leaves and berries.
We waited and eventually it popped out again to perch openly before flying up onto the roof of an adjacent house, hopping about there for a while, picking at the moss and other matter on the tiles. It flew off out of view but five minutes later it was back on the roof and then flew down onto the bare tree and repeated its earlier performance.
Fifteen minutes later, after playing 'peek a boo' in the leaves and berries it again flew off. As we waited a couple of Blackcaps came to steal a berry or two. First to arrive was a female followed by a male. They did not hang about and each were gone in seconds.
The thrush returned one more time and we got yet more excellent views as it perched amongst the berries, plucking and swallowing them whole with indecent haste.
Then it flew off once more and as before there was no apparent reason that I was aware of for it to do so.
As if on cue the American Robin was replaced in its absence by the originator of its misnaming, a European Robin, which perched where its namesake had previously been and gave us a burst of song.
Unlike the previous occasions, this time the thrush did not return in a few minutes and a long wait of almost forty five minutes ensued before it returned and a minute or so after its return it sat right in the middle of the bush, partially visible, obviously relaxed and commenced a bit of light preening before sitting still and content in its secret place in the centre of the bush.
The long wait during its absence meant that more and more birders had arrived, all amassed by the fence.Those that had yet to see it were anxious and pressing in on the limited viewing space, coming uncomfortably close to me, almost cheek to cheek at times. I became uneasy, as despite what this deplorable government would have us believe there is still an ongoing pandemic. Maybe I was over-reacting but I have lived with anxiety all my life.
Expressing my concerns with a quiet word and whoever was too close demurred and generally the atmosphere was benign as those of us at the front, moved temporarily to give new arrivals space to see the bird and helped new arrivals with directions to locate the bird when it was partially hidden in the bush.
The thrush then flew off once more. We had been here for two hours, although it did not seem like it as the continuous excitement of the thrush kept us enthralled but we now felt that the bird's appearances were probably going to be less frequent and it would not be perching so openly when it returned, due to the presence of increasing numbers of birders.
The residents of this part of Hill Road were, as before, very friendly and curious to hear the latest about the thrush. A lady from down the road even brought her two small childen to see the thrush and at one stage the owners of the house with the cotoneaster bush came up their path, passing the thrush in the bush just feet away which showed no alarm whatsoever. Their elderly cat followed them up the steps to the gate we stood around, walking very slowly, its days of stalking birds but a memory. It was gently returned to the house.
We waited another half an hour but the thrush did not return. It was time to go as there were other birds to see yet, but not before I had a brief chat with Bob, another birding friend who lives in nearby Seaford.Bob pointed out a Peacock, my first butterfly of the year, basking on the ground in the sunshine. We were almost a hundred and fifty miles south of Oxfordshire and it was noticeable how much more advanced the season was here in coastal Sussex, almost Spring like on this day of sunshine, apart from the cold wind. Daffodils were in full bloom in gardens, a harbinger of hope and something better to come and patches of yellow gold crocus injected bright colour onto council owned grass verges.
Both of us had not had any breakfast and with the time now approaching noon we decided that we would go to Polegate Services, ten minutes down the road and combine seeing the now locally famous resident Hooded Crow with breakfast at the Lite Bites Bistro cafe.
On arriving we were disappointed to find no crow, so ordered breakfast and put looking for the crow on hold until we were finished.Two other birders we had met at the thrush twitch were already looking for the crow and said they would alert us if it showed up. Our table also had a good view of the crow's favoured trees on the other side of the road between McDonald's and the Ambulance Station so we had our options covered.
Half way through breakfast I saw the crow flying above the opposite building and we watched it from the cafe window. Once finished with breakfast we went outside to find one of the other birders had bought a pasty, chunks of which he threw into an adjacent field and eventually the crow flew down and grabbed a piece which it flew off with to some distant trees.
Now it was time to go back to Eastbourne and the upper seafront promenade where a very elusive wintering Hume's Leaf Warbler was giving us visiting birders a run for our money as it moved at high speed, ceaselessly active, through the holm oaks and other evergreens that bordered both sides of the promenade.
Twenty minutes later we parked and walked across the grass and down to the promenade.It was easy to see where the warbler had last been seen as a number of birders were standing and gazing hopefully up into the trees on either side. Currently it had not been seen or heard for half an hour.We too stood, more listening than looking in my case, as the warbler is very vocal and this is the best way to locate the elusive bird in all the greenery. Mark unfortunately is quite deaf due to his army days firing guns but between us we would surely locate it.
Meanwhile bemused members of the public walked past or stopped to ask what all the fuss was about.
Ten minutes later I heard the warbler give its call, one that is very similar to its close relative the Yellow browed Warbler but shorter, more husky and not so high pitched. The anxious call came from behind us and in the process of alerting Mark, we were joined by the others rushing to where we stood.There was plenty of room for everyone to stand and look and listen, the more eyes and ears the better it would be. There then followed a chase back and fore as, periodically, the tiny mite was seen flitting though the tree tops, always too fast for the camera or even bins. It never stopped, its movement constant, even more so than a Goldcrest. It would be lost to view, then seen flying from one side of the promenade to the other. Then silence. A few minutes passed and another couple of calls prompted us to rush ahead of it, trying to anticipate where it might appear. It would then call from the opposite direction! Back we all went. Another silence and then another call. It was frustrating and exciting in equal measure.
I eventually saw the warbler briefly but well enough, however Mark for whom it would be a lifer, had not seen it well enough to feel he could tick it but finally it appeared in a tangle of leaves, twigs and branches, in the clear, between two large branches, but for no more than a couple of seconds. I pointed the camera at the leaves, pressed the shutter button, took a burst of ten frames in a second and hoped. With huge anticipation I checked the images on the back of the camera Not even certain I had photographed the warbler and feeling I had probably got leaves instead, I reviewed nine images of nothing except leaves but unbelievably the last was one of the hyperactive sprite. Not exactly sharp and clear but I felt justified in some personal exultation at having even captured it in my lens.
But Mark still needed to see it well enough to feel satisfied. One more tantalising call and one more hurried advance to where it called from and finally Mark got a clinching view of it, managing to see the pale wing bars and supercilium before it fled.
Happy with this final view we left but not before Adrian Morgan introduced himself and complemented me on my blog. It does not happen that often believe me! So if you read this Adrian, many thanks for your kind comments, it means a lot and it was nice to meet you if only briefly.
On our way home we would pass Newhaven and Mark needed a Purple Sandpiper for his year list. Newhaven East Pier is a well known and favourite haunt of them and I had seen two there last Thursday on my earlier visit to Sussex, so we decided to give it a try.
We walked out across the shingle at Newhaven Tidemills to the pier and slowly checked the supporting struts below the pier. It is here the sandpipers love to hide and feed, picking at the weed and barnacle encrusted struts. We walked out all the way to the end of the pier but could not find any sandpipers. It was a bit of a dampener to our day as up to now we had been so successful. At the end of the pier I scanned out to sea, reprising my seawatching days at the end of the West Pier that juts out a quarter of a mile to sea just across the harbour from where we were standing. A dark shape caught my eye where the calmer water met the less sheltered water beyond the West Pier.
Cormorant? No I don't think so.
Closer scrutiny showed it was a Red throated Diver, a very good bird for Mark's list and dare I say it mine too as his year listing is proving contagious.
Past experience has taught me that it is always worthwhile to check the pier supports on the way back to land as well, just in case we had missed the Purple Sandpipers on the way out, for there are areas below the pier where they cannot be seen. Two thirds of the way back we found a sandpiper. Only one but that was enough.It looked up at us enquiringly and shuffled out of view.
That was all that was required, and satisfied we retraced our route back to the car and headed for Oxfordshire.
Another exceptional day's birding in Sussex by the Sea.
Excellent! x
ReplyDelete