A Pied Wheatear in Northumberland 12th November 2022

Mark rang me on the 1st November which is not unusual as we normally have a chat most days about birds or politics. This particular conversation involved birds and one in particular, a male Pied Wheatear that had been found that morning at the seaside town of Whitley Bay, which is just beyond Newcastle on the northeast coast of Northumberland.

We agreed it would be nice to see but as we both had already seen more than one in Britain we decided that this one was just too far away. The subsequent days passed and the wheatear persisted in remaining faithful to its favoured location of the seaside promenade and ornamental gardens at the north end of the town.

Rather nice images of the wheatear also began appearing on social media and it was obvious that this particular bird was confiding in the extreme and would allow one to get very close to it indeed. Mark, being the keen wildlife photographer he is became more and more enthused about the bird and it now dominated our conversations.The inevitable happened of course and I was persuaded, it did not take much, to go with him to Whitley Bay on Saturday 12th November, that being the first opportunity I had due to prior commitments. 

We agreed it was best to leave early as, for us, it would be a four hour drive to Whitley Bay and so loading my birding gear in Mark's car we  departed his home in Bedfordshire at 5am and headed north.The weather was on our side with no rain predicted and after two stops for coffee and fuel we approached the outskirts of Whitley Bay, in pleasant sunshine.

The only time I have been to Whitley Bay was fifty years ago when I had student lodgings in the town and my memories of those  times are inevitably vague and probably just as well. What we found this morning as we drove along  a wide boulevard by the seafront was  a rather pleasant vista of victorian houses, cafes and shops looking across an area of grass and ornamental gardens to a promenade bordering a long sandy beach and the North Sea.

Following Birdguides directions we were fortunate to be able to park for free and gathering our gear together crossed the road, walked over the grass for a hundred yards to reach a tarmac path that  lay above and ran adjacent to the promenade below. Any concerns about locating the wheatear were almost immediately dispelled as we could see a dozen birders already looking at it. 

The wheatear itself was obvious, due to the pale, wind ruffled feathers of its breast being highlighted by the sun as it perched on a wall literally yards from its admirers.

Despite the regular passing of the general public and dog walkers in particular it showed little concern about anyone approaching it too closely and at times members of the public not remotely interested in the bird passed within feet of it while we remained at what we felt was a sensible distance. Emboldened by seeing this we also felt no compunction to 'back off' and sure enough the wheatear obliged and everyone of us could hardly fail but get sensational close ups of this rare bird.

Pied Wheatears, as we were to explain to the numerous enquiries from curious passers by, come from eastern Europe and Russia, their range in Europe being mainly around the Black Sea, in eastern Romania and Bulgaria. Further east they are found in small numbers in south and east Ukraine and widely across southern Russia, southern Siberia, Kazakhstan and Mongolia to as far as northern China. They migrate to spend the winter in either East Africa or southwest Arabia.

The first ever recorded in Britain was on The Isle of May in Scotland on 19th October 1909. Up to and including this individual a further 86 have been recorded with unsurprisingly over 75% being found on the east coast although they do occur on other coasts but far less frequently. I saw my first one, an adult male, way back in July 1990 on the south coast at Newhaven in East Sussex. It is considered that the birds that arrive in Britain are from the Asian populations

An average of two records come each year, normally in late autumn with the bulk of records during the second half of October so this bird at Whitley Bay was later than most.

We settled down to photograph and watch the wheatear, as bemused members of the public passed by or stopped to watch both us and the bird. It spent much of its time flycatching, watching the airspace above it, crouching in anticipation when it saw an insect, then launching itself skywards and with much dexterity and swooping caught its prey before descending to perch once more on the wall. At other times it would drop down onto the tarmac path to pick off an ant and on one occasion it dropped within literally yards of us.

Slowly I moved from a crouching position to lie sideways on the tarmac to get that eye level shot.The bird showed no alarm.Then it moved closer and finally was within four feet of me. Unbelievable. I had to drop the zoom on my lens to its lowest in order to get it in frame and Mark's bigger lens with its higher magnification just could not cope. I lay there taking image after image as it stood looking around for ants.

Of course it could not last, as an inconsiderate person deliberately ignoring us, walked through and it flew but what an experience. For the most part the public were supportive but as often happens in a very popular and public place there are always one or two who feel they need to assert their right to do as they please or, to be charitable, maybe they did not notice the bird as they walked by.

The wheatear would regularly fly some distance to various places and seemed to have a preference for the rock walls that bordered the ornamental garden features.Here it would perch and fly out on sorties after insects and sometimes it would perch in the grass or on the benches by the path.

We spent a happy couple of hours  following it around and both of us were more than content with the images we obtained and seeing the bird so close to us.

Our early start meant we were hungry and after our time with the wheatear we decided to look for somewhere to eat. Chatting to someone local, we were directed to the promenade and told to walk north to the Rendezvous Cafe. The wide all weather surfaced promenade follows the beach for its entire length and this being a pleasantly mild Saturday was immensely popular. Walkers, joggers, bikes and above all dog walkers had come to enjoy a spell by the sea.

The Promenade

The Rendezvous Cafe although making no concessions to sophistication was also very popular and we had to wait to get a table but once inside, coffee and something basic to eat revived us enough to go back for more of the Pied Wheatear. 

Now approaching noon on a pleasant sunny Saturday the promenade area was inevitably going to be busy, so busy the wheatear was constantly having to move and had graduated down onto the beach, where there was more space and it could hunt flies from the sand, but even here it was regularly disturbed, even being chased by dogs.

Despite this, somehow it worked, the beach being sufficiently wide and long enough to prove acceptable and the wheatear would either spend brief spells on the beach or perch on the promenade wall above. Even so the disturbance was considerable and although not frightened  it still was obliged to move frequently.

I was probably more frustrated with the constant interruptions than the bird.  There were just too many people and too many dogs. I stood in a quieter corner of the promenade and as one does got chatting to another birder who felt the same as me. Mark meanwhile was still down on the beach suffering various indignities and frustrations as he endeavoured to get that ultimate shot

The birder I was chatting to said

I presume you know about the Snow Bunting?

No, tell me more I replied

He explained that there was a Snow Bunting which was just as confiding as the wheatear and it was to be found beyond the Rendezvous Cafe, feeding on the weedy embankment on the left side of the promenade.

I tried to call Mark but got no answer, so I made my way to the northern end of the promenade alone. I got to the end but had failed to find the bunting. I turned to walk back and saw two birders pointing cameras at the embankment. They obviously had located the bunting so I walked to where they were standing and there very, very close was the Snow Bunting, scuttling amongst the herbage and loose stones, picking seeds from the ground and nibbling them in its corn yellow beak.

I confess to rather liking Snow Buntings, so consequently spent some time watching and photographing it. Then, satisfied with my efforts I walked to meet Mark and we decided that both of us were not going to improve on what we had achieved with the wheatear.More to the point by now we definitely had more than enough of the busy promenade and beach.

Mark is a rugby fan so we decided to try and find a pub where we could watch  England against Japan but failed comprehensively to find anywhere. Having decided to stay overnight we headed for our accommodation, a Travel Lodge in Sedgefield. Frankly it was a relief to put my feet up as I must have walked miles along the seafront, back and fore, following the wheatear.

An excellent Indian restaurant right opposite  the Travel Lodge solved the problem of an evening meal and during the meal we decided to go back for seconds of the wheatear on Sunday. 

We returned to Whitley Bay but there was no sign of the Pied Wheatear.

It had gone.