Autumn in Shetland Part Six - October 2023

10th October - A White crowned Sparrow on Fetlar

Shetland's run of good birds continued when news came on the evening of the 8th of October that a White crowned Sparrow from North America was coming to seed in a garden at Houbie on Fetlar.

White crowned Sparrow has only been recorded eleven times before in Britain and is much rarer than its similar looking cousin, the White throated Sparrow, so if possible we had to go and see it.

This bird would be popular with the many visiting birders on Shetland. Unfortunately we were without an internet connection in the house we were staying at so had to wait until the 9th to contact Shetland Island Ferries and try to book ourselves onto a ferry to Fetlar.

I knew we had little chance of getting across to Fetlar on the 9th because of the delay and we were hardly surprised to learn that the infrequent ferry to Fetlar was fully booked on the 9th and the first we could book was a ferry mid morning on the 10th. We were grateful to get that booking.and all that was required now was to hope the sparrow would remain in its garden until then. The 9th of October was  a lovely calm day and the birders going to Fetlar would be getting great views of the sparrow which had already been confirmed as still present at Houbie. We consoled ourselves by going to see the White's Thrush on Bressay, hardly an inadequate substitute and if I am honest wins hands down over the sparrow, despite the sparrow's greater rarity but that's my personal opinion.

All  was well in our world until the evening, when returning from Bressay, we received a text from Shetland Ferries informing us our booking was cancelled due to staff sickness amongst the ferry crews and we could not re-book for three days.The sparrow would likely be long gone by then.

Instead, if we wished to travel on the 10th  we would have to turn up on spec and hope there would be a ferry and that we could get on it. Basically it was first come first served. These occurrences can and do happen on Shetland and being old hands at this sort of thing we decided to proceed anyway.

We had agreed to take fellow birders Bert and Steve with us in order to utilise only one car due to the limited space on the small ferry vessel. Mark called Bert that evening to inform him we would be leaving extra early to get the first ferry off Mainland to Yell and then drive across Yell to endeavour to get a prime position in the queue for the ferry to Fetlar. 

There would also only be one return ferry from Fetlar at 1630 but if we could get across to Fetlar we were told we would definitely be able to get on the ferry coming back.

We were all set but now the weather took a hand as.the wind rose alarmingly in the night and rain hammered at the window of my bedroom. The forecast for tomorrow was dire and in the morning I could see just how bad it was. The only good thing was the sparrow was unlikely to have departed in such atrocious weather and so it proved as it was reported to be still at Houbie.

We rendezvoused with Bert and Steve at 8am at Toft, the departure point for the Yell  ferry and they transferred to my car.Now we sat and waited for the ferry as the wind and rain battered the car.No one was inclined to get out in such awful conditions. Eventually we were ushered onto the ferry and set sail for Yell.

Coming off at Ulsta on Yell we commenced what is wryly called the Yell Dash where one drives across the island at as high a speed as is safe on an oft times deserted road that snakes through the desolate moorland wastes of the island's interior to  Gutcher where we would catch the ferry to Fetlar.We had no idea how many people would be wanting to go to Fetlar so the priority was to get to Gutcher as soon as possible in case there was a queue for the Fetlar ferry.

We need not have worried as there were just three cars in the lane for Fetlar and I relaxed secure in the knowledge that we would be going to Fetlar today and hopefully seeing a very rare bird from across the Atlantic.

A longish wait finally came to an end as the ferry arrived and we drove on board. A short twenty minute crossing got us to Hamar Ness on Fetlar and from there we drove for another fifteen minutes across a wild, wind and rain swept, barren hinterland of forbidding moorland.

The single track road was deserted and we never encountered another vehicle and arrived at the Interpretive Centre where birders coming to see the sparrow had been instructed to park and then walk a hundred yards up the road to a small house adjacent to a much bigger house. 

Entering the garden of the smaller house via a metal gate we walked up a path to the house where the door was opened and we were cheerily greeted and instructed to go into a large shed attached to the house which overlooked a concreted area surrounded by grass. This was the stage on which the White crowned Sparrow would perform.

A fair amount of seed was scattered on the concrete, the shed window was opened  and ten of us stood back in the gloom of the shed to await the stars entrance. 

What luck that we were out of the truly awful elements, dry and relatively warm while the wind gusting with fearful force rocked the shed door and rain drummed on the roof.

At first the seed was enveloped by the ubiquitous greedy Starlings, forever hungy, closely followed by around forty House Sparrows, the birds almost being blown off their feet by the strength of the wind.

Ten minutes of anxious waiting and then there it was, the White crowned Sparrow, looking surprisingly unexceptional amongst the House Sparrows but closer inspection showed it was very different with a strong head pattern of broad reddish brown lateral crown stripes enclosing a pale buff median crown stripe, grey supercilia and black eye stripes. and a bright, corn yellow bill. There was no sign of a white crown as this bird was a first year individual.

To me it looked more bunting like than the chunkier House Sparrows with a marginally more slender body and longer tail.It also helped that it generally kept away from the scrum of House Sparrows, feeding in the grass on its own and on the concrete when the sparrows had flown

We watched and photographed it for an hour, on and off, as it would disappear for brief spells before returning. It was  cramped in the shed as there was only one open window to view the bird from which resulted in those behind pressing forward into those of us in front.Unfortunately the person behind me literally breathing in my ear had, by the smell on his breath, consumed a lot of garlic last night. This precipitated my relinquishing my spot when eventually it became too much to bear!

Eventually we all had our fill of the obliging sparrow and were now faced with the dilemna of what to do as the only ferry back to Yell was not for another three hours.We drove a short way back to a small shop cum cafe we had passed on the way in.You find these small places in many an unlikely remote situation on Shetland, eking out a living by the owner turning their hand to a multitude of tasks to survive.We ordered some rolls and coffee and I bought some postcards.

You have to admire such operations, usually run by one person who lives there and makes a precarious living.The upside is they live in invariably beautiful surroundings.

Having revived ourselves we went back for more of the White crowned Sparrow but after half an hour I felt there was little more to enhance the experience and suggested we go for a drive to explore the island which is hardly extensive. 

First we drove to Loch of Funzie where the Red necked Phalaropes breed and is an RSPB Reserve. Obviously they were not there being well on their way to the Pacific Ocean where they will spend the winter off Peru. A lone adult Whooper Swan was in the middle of the loch and the inevitable Turnstones and Common Redshanks were hunkered down on the shoreline.

We drove back and a large flock of Golden Plover were feeding in one of the rain soaked fields by the road.Reluctant to fly in such foul weather they regarded us anxiously but remained on the ground.Further along we began to encounter Redwings, flocks of them having just arrived from the North Sea. Ravenous, they were feeding on the short grass at the roadside, flying in droves before the car.

Another stop at a small holding with two excitable pigs in a muddy field gave up a couple of Bramblings and a small flock of Twite and that was about it for Fetlar. Slowly the time had passed and we left the bleak but atmospheric moors of Fetlar to drive to the isolated tiny waiting room at the ferry terminal with no one around but us. 

Another dash across Yell in the now failing light  took us to Burravoe in search of a Surf Scoter.We found it in splendid isolation a long way off in the voe. The wind and rain ensured that we did not linger.

We returned to Mainland, deposited Bert and Steve at Toft and then drove home on very dark roads to Scalloway.

A small whisky, then a warm bed. and happy memories.