Twitching in the Fast Lane - 6 & 7th June 2026

A tale of two very rare birds, one a first for Britain, entailing driving through three countries in two days.

It has been generally accepted that this Spring and early summer has not been the greatest for us twitching folk with precious little that is rare or even scarce to fire up the birding juices.

Casting around for something, anything, to do I contacted Graham, a fellow twitcher and top photographer and suggested we go to see and photograph a White winged Scoter that obligingly was allowing very close approach. Normally to be found  in North America it has taken up residence with the Eider flocks at Kirkcaldy (pronounce curcoddy) that lies on the coast of Fife in Scotland. The scoter was a male and I have only seen two before and those distantly in scoter flocks off the east coast of Scotland, so to see a male close up was a genuine chance of a lifetime and not to be missed if at all possible.

Graham was keen to go and after some delays due to unsuitable weather in Kirkcaldy we finally settled on going on Saturday the 6th of June. Graham lives in Slough while I live in Oxfordshire an hour's driving north  so we arranged to meet at a place near Oxford where I would leave my car and transfer to Graham's luxurious and roomy Audi A6. Graham has phenomenal stamina and generosity of spirit in happily doing all the driving so we set off at shortly after midnight from our agreed rendezvous near Kidlington into a long seven hour night drive to Kirkcaldy.

With just a couple of rest stops in eerily deserted motorway services and coping with the diversions and roadworks that are now such a tiresome feature of night time driving, dawn made itself apparent around 4.30am  and by the time we crossed the border it was full daylight.

We arrived in an almost deserted Kirkcaldy on schedule at 7.30am and parked the car near to the harbour and wide bay where the scoter was to be found most days, associating with a flock of mainly male Eider. 

Kirkcaldy, the lino capital of Britain is not my first choice of a recreational destination in Scotland but in the early morning it was free of traffic and clearly some effort has been made to create a wide esplanade and parking where people can walk by the sea and leave their cars, although you have to pay for the privilege of parking right on the front

We commenced our search at the northern end of the bay by the harbour wall. Looking over the wall there were  number of Eider and an even larger number of Goosanders roosting on the sloping wall that cted as a sea defence but there was no sign of the scoter amongst them.We looked south across the long wide bay and in the distance could see a lot more Eider there, so it was back in the car and we drove along the esplanade to the far end and into a refreshingly free car park. Nudging some ridiculously confiding scavenging crows aside that were perched on the railings, we looked beyond to view a long line of male Eiders bobbing on the sea, close in on the full tide but again our hopes were dashed.No White winged Scoter.

Looking even further right in our bins to the very end of the bay we could see there was a huge wall that also acted as a sea defence and a small outcrop of seaweed covered rock just offshore surmounted by another group of resting Eider 

And here at last we found the White winged Scoter, half hidden, sitting amongst the Eider.

We drove to another free car park  handily situated near them and then followed a short track that would get us under the wall and almost opposite the Eiders and scoter.

There were already two birders crouched there and we joined them. We looked out to the scoter and his pals and began to take photos. 

Sadly if we had been a few minutes earlier we might have had a better chance of prolonged views of the scoter and getting decent photos but Kirkcaldy was waking up, the tide was receding and the sand becoming exposed and this combination brought the usual birder's nemesis of dogs on the beach.

A lady arrived with two dogs and although she walked the other way the Eider saw her and the dogs and became uneasy, causing them and the scoter to shuffle further across the rocks to the seaward side which rendered the scoter nigh on invisible behind several Eider drakes. 

So frustrating! Tentatively, for fear of slipping on the wet weed left by the recding tide we crept further along the base of the wall and waited. Eventually we could see  the scoter showing its head and open bill as it had a difference of opinion with an Eider.

It commenced to rain, the drops pattering on my rain hood and the light, never good on what was a cloudy day became almost gloomy for a while.

We waited further but the Eiders were clearly troubled by the dog walkers even though the dog walkers were distant and eventually most of them including the scoter shuffled off the seaweed and rocks and took to the sea.

This was not good and for now any chance of close up photos looked to be receding as rapidly as were the Eider. The drake scoter was clearly enamoured of an indifferent female Eider and squired her across the sea to swim offshore but still within photographable range. 

It stopped raining as Sand Martins flicked back and fore over rocks increasingly exposed as the sea retreated. A couple of Sandwich Terns flew past, as ever crying loudly with their discordant voices

The situation remained thus for ten minutes or so before the Eider and scoter all flew further out to sea and there they remained. So no crippling photos like those we had admired on the internet.

It was by now raining again, only gently but still annoying so we sat in the car, dazed from being awake all night and a little downcast about how close but not quite close enough we had come to achieving our aims with the scoter. It was only 9am so we opted to go to the other end of the bay and walk around the harbour as this apparently was also a known haunt of the scoter and where most people got the sensational photos we had admired in past days but there was little here apart from yet more Eider and a lot of gulls. although it was nice to see House Martins nesting on the town houses overlooking the harbour.

Both of us were hungry so retired across the road to The Merchants House cafe with its five star review from Tripadvisor, no doubt due to an awe inspiring selection of cakes but we resolutely ignored this sweet temptation and settled for some extremely good coffee and sausage baps. Suitably refreshed we departed the cafe and drove back to the car park at the far end of the bay where we met Scilly legend Higgo and friends making a stop to see the scoter before heading further north to go birding on Shetland

We stood chatting  to them and looking at the scoter, now but a black dot far out to sea and showing no sign of coming nearer anytime soon. Having all day we resigned ourselves to waiting for the scoter to hopefully do what it regularly had done in past days and fly into the harbour.

Graham's phone pinged

He answered it. 

Sam from Birdguides

What's up Sam?

A very brief conversation ensued

Graham ended the call

It was 11am

We have to go

What is it?

There's a Western Reef Heron on Anglesey. It's a first for Britain.

Our world turned upside down.

This would be the first tick this year for both of us

We bade an immediate farewell to Higgo and friends.

Being birders they understood completely 

We made for the car just yards away, all thoughts of the scoter abandoned

Graham punched in the Satnav co-ordinates for Anglesey. We could put in the precise location en route.

Checking Birdguides I learned the location where the heron had been discovered was in a channel by the coast road at Foryd Bay in Caernarvon

My heart sank. It would take us six hours to get to Anglesey.

Already tired from being awake all night my head was spinning from processing the sensational news of the heron and what we were about to attempt but that familiar thrill and anticipation as the adrenalin began coursing through me, energised any flagging of my spirit. If we pulled this one off it would be the stuff of legend. 

Our four hours in Kirkcaldy became but a fading memory as we headed south along the same roads on which we had just headed north, literally hours ago. It seems like a benign form of madness but this  willingness and ability to buck against normal convention and constraint is cathartic, a freeing of mind and body from the daily tedium of existence and one that I welcome. 

After the first hour of driving the excitement had evaporated and a dull lethargy enveloped me.Now anxiety and concerns about whether the heron would remain took over as a constant stream of messages from a WhatsApp group called Twitcher's Tales arrived on Graham's phone.A running commentary of the birds whereabouts kept us informed of its movements and then the messages began to suggest doubt as to the bird's identity with some thinking it could be an aberrant Little Egret.Much discussion ensued about the minutiae of plumage detail and the extent of yellow on the bird's feet.

Most of this commentary was by persons not even there and based solely on the first indifferent photos to appear of an always distant bird. I thought the doubts being expressed rather fanciful but apparently 1% of Little Egrets can appear dusky grey so maybe caution was the best option. Frankly, until the bird could be seen closer and better photoa taken it was best to accept it probably was a Western Reef Heron and leave it at that for the time being. Whatever the outcome we were committed and not about to turn back on such speculation.

Western Reef Herons occur on the coasts of tropical West Africa from Mauritania to Gabon and are also found around the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf extending east as far as India.They also occur on the Canary Islands and in small numbers in Spain.Where this bird has come from is anyone's guess but more than likely it is from Africa or southern Europe. It is a species that has been expected to arrive in Britain and ocurs in two morphs white and dark grey.

It was attritional as we counted off the hours until we could turn off the M6 and head along the M56 and then westwards along the north coast of Wales. We had come to an agreement that the ultimate priority would be to try and see the bird this evening and very much secondly arrange somewhere to stay overnight. If we saw the heron this evening the pressure would be off the next day and we could relax and concentrate on getting our photos.

Messages regularly arrived from our twitching colleagues

I'm three hours away

We'll be there in an hour

Where's Les

It's going to be carnage parking

All reflecting and adding to the anxiety that is an inevitable consequence with birding events such as this

We reached Bangor. Now only.another hour to go.

A huge grey cloud appeared on the horizon. Rain commenced falling adding to our concerns

I set about the tedious task of trying not to be ripped off by Travel Lodges and Premier Inns and negotiating the annoying and endless fiddling required to make a booking on a mobile phone. My extreme tiredness made this almost impossible to achieve.

Frustrated as I lost my phone signal yet again I abandoned the task and resolved to deal with this after we had seen the bird which was now by no means certain as it had been seen to fly off high and although  it was thought to have landed in marshes north east of Dinlie Caravan Park, had not been relocated as far as we knew.

All went quiet and it was obvious no one knew exactly where it was or even if it was still in the general area. My spirit sank to a new low as we headed steadily west into North Wales and then news came through that the bird had indeed been in a field of long grass and reeds near the caravan park but was currently invisible. The crucial thing was it was located and an eye could be kept on it.

We were back on our emotional rollercoaster once more but there was now definite hope that we would see the heron tonight

Graham, who had been to the area before turned off into a narrow lane and we wound our way towards the hallowed field only to come upon a scene of chaos. We were unable to go any further on the narrow road now made virtually impassable by parked cars, birders cars and birders hurrying further down the road towards a mass of birders training scopes, bins and cameras on a field of long grass 

By some stroke of good fortune we found a space to park the car nearby, in front of someone's house  and set off up the road towards the field where the heron was skulking. It seemed to take forever, dodging bemused holiday makers cars attempting to escape from the current mayhem but eventiually we joined the huge scrum of birders intently focussing on a grass field

We joined Mark and Adrian who had got here earlier.

Mark beckoned me over

Quick! Ewan look through my scope. It's still here in the field but elusive. I've got the scope trained on the spot.

I looked through his scope and was instructed to find a pale rock in the field and then look slightly beyond.The heron was in the grass but only visible when it put its head up. 

I could see nothing but grass. I carried on looking and still saw nothing.

Adrian meanwhile had trained my scope on the spot too and I transferred to my scope. Just as I did two birds erupted from the grass and my worries were over. One was a Little Egret but the other was the Western Reef Heron

It was all so quick but I noted the overall bluish grey plumage of the heron, a distinctive white throat patch and bright yellow feet on its trailing legs as it flew up and away to the other side of the estuary. I followed it in my scope as far as I could.

Job done and I was finally able to allow that wonderful warm glow that comes with a successful twitch against all the odds, to envelope me but I had precious little time to enjoy it as everyone decamped for the other side of the estuary where it was presumed the heron had gone. 

We raced back to the car and negotiated our way back along the lane. None too sure which lane to follow that would take us to the coast road that runs alongside the estuary, a mild panic seized me but then I got the coordinates from my Birdguides app  and relayed the directions to Graham and we were all set.

A small red car in front of us was obviously going in the same direction so we had the double indemnity of him plus our Birdguides intructions. We seemed to be constantly turning left as we followed  narrow winding lanes that eventually brought us out on the opposite side of the estuary and a small huddle of birders.

Again  finding a parking spot was at a premium but somehow we managed it and headed as fast as possible to view the estuary over a hedge.

I joined half a dozen others and was guided onto the bird which was feeding distantly on the mud of the estuary.Now I could see the whole of the heron for more than a few seconds and enjoyed watching it hunting fish in the tidal pools and runnels of seawater.

We moved to a better position and then ended up on a grass bank by the very edge of the estuary,  currently a vast flat area of nothingness, almost desolate but with a metaphorical pot of gold in the midst of its barren expanse in the form of the Western Reef Heron

Always distant but it did not matter. Surrounded by fellow birders we watched it fishing and moving around the muddy expanse. A relaxed air took over as we greeted or were greeted by old friends not seen since the last twitch. This too is all part of the twitching scene I am part of.

There must have been over a hundred of us on the grass and roadside but there was ample space for everyone to not get in anyone's way.

Eventually the heron flew off and the time came to depart. I sat in the car with Graham and managed to secure a twin bedded room at a reasonable price at the Caernarvon Travel Lodge. Now I could truly relax as I was guaranteed I had somewhere comfortable to sleep and awake tomorrow hopefully revived and refreshed. .

We drove further along the narrow coast road that followed the shoreline and found another car of birders looking at the heron which was feeding on the far side of the estuary with a couple of Little Egrets for company.

Stopping we got out and watched the heron, willing it to come nearer. At first it steadfastly remained on the far side but slowly, by means of short flights and a brief hiatus as it had a contretemps with the two Little Egrets, came closer and closer until it was near enough to even get a decent image or two of it despite the failing light.We made the most of it until it flew off.

That was it for a day.that had become far better than we could have ever hoped for and now with accommodation secured the priority was food, so we made our way to Ainsworth's Fish and Chip shop in the centre of Caernarvon. 

Two excellent haddock and chips. which we ate in the Travel Lodge's car park did the trick.

Check in was a seconds only formality. Key in the door and there was a bed to sleep in.

Good night to one and all

What a day.

Sunday 7th June

Sunday morning and it is amazing what a good night's sleep can do for one.We were out of the hotel at just after 6am and the first priority for Graham was a Starbucks caramel latte, fortuitously available right by the Travel Lodge. 

Once that was sorted we sought news of the heron and learned it had already been reported at 6.25am in Caernarvon Harbour. We knew exactly where to go as we had been there last night heading for the fish and chip shop.

Having rained overnight it was a grey, slightly damp underfoot kind of a day and very windy but no further rain was forecast. First priority was to find somewhere to park but the narrow road and the limited free spaces were fully occupied by birder's cars but again with great good fortune we found a space and squeezed the car into it. A short walk brought us to the footbridge that takes you across the river to the impressive castle but we remained on the other side as the heron was feeding along the shoreline there.

Caernarvon Castle with Britain moored alongside

Most birders went to the side under the castle walls so they could look across the river to the feeding heron but we wanted to get closer for pictures so chose to wait for the heron to come to us along the shore.

We walked down onto the shore and there was the heron feeding in the seaweed and shallow water on an ebbing tide.

There were quite a number of us but everyone took great care to not get too close to the heron or trip over the mooring ropes. I edged closer using the moored boats hauled up on the mud and seaweed as cover until I was stood with a clear view of the heron but concealed from the bird by the bulk of a large boat's prow.

The heron came very close but then someone allowed their anxiety to get the better of them and got too near and it flew back upriver to pitch on the shore and carry on feeding.

That was that.The heron would not come back for some time if ever, so I walked over the bridge to the large car park on the other side below the castle walls to join the majority of birders and where you could look over the river and watch the heron feeding. 

Graham opted to remain on the other side hoping the heron would come back to where he was but it failed to do so and later it flew further upriver and I too could not see it anymore so walked back over the bridge to join Graham.There were just half a dozen birders here, optimistically waiting for the heron but it was not playing ball.

Tired of waiting we decided to go to the RSPB's South Stack reserve that lies above Holyhead.This has happy memories for me as I volunteered for two years running there staying in a cottage for two weeks each time. I was met with much kindness and hospitality from both staff and locals and hoped maybe some of them would still be around. Sadly it transpired they were not.

Our motivation for going to South Stack was the presence of a long staying female Woodchat Shrike and of course the celebrated local Red billed Choughs that are arguably the main attraction of the reserve. South Stack towers above Holyhead and as a consequence it was even windier up there than back in Caernarvon.The shrike was hunkered down in a tangle of dead gorse stems and bracken that formed an effective windbreak out of the worst of the wind and never left its sanctuary. And who could blame it.

 

Watching the shrike the distinctive keeeoow calls of four Chough came on the wind, the birds rocking and rolling in the sky above us, masters of the wind and revelling in it.

After a coffee and an exceptionally good scone with cream and jam in the visitor centre cafe, we had a chat with Kev and Kyle, two fellow Oxonbirders, then left to return to Caernarvon for one final attempt to get that photo of the heron that would satisfy us, well me anyway. Graham operates on a higher plain.

We decided to remain on the side of the river opposite the castle setting ourselves down on a small square grassy plateau in front of  a derelict building while beyond us lay the tree shrouded muddy edge of the tidal river. The tide was coming in slowly and we located the heron futher upriver but looking unlikely to come our way soon.

Time drifted by and in our sheltered secluded spot we were entirely alone. I  fiddled with my phone as did Graham and.as a consequence we nearly missed the moment. I can only attribute our lack of attention to tiredness, more than we cared to admit to. Somehow we missed the heron flying downriver past us and settling to feed on the water's edge behind us.We only realised this when we noticed all the birders below the castle pointing cameras and optics at the river's edge beyond us.

There was no time to lose.

I had to get in position

Be careful you do not flush it Graham cautioned.

We crept along well back from the river so the heron would not see us, edging alongside the derelict building to a small narrow concrete wall and knelt there with a full view of the river's edge and.the feeding heron which was as close as we could possibly have hoped.

This was it. The opportunity we had fantisised over but dare not speak of

It was now or never. A quick check of camera settings and I began taking image after image

Yes, I know, far too many images but it is a first for Britain and my first British tick this
year, so please indulge me

Almost shoulder to shoulder the two of us filled our camera cards with frame fillers, the heron  oblivious of our presence.There was just one other birder present so we had it virtually to ourselves and made the most of this golden opportunity. Still wading towards us the heron came ever closer. Surely it would notice us? But no it continued feeding, its blue grey plumage so close you could see paler plumes running down its back and at the sides of its breast, the two long streamers sticking out from the rear of its  crown blowing in the wind. Its progress through the water was elegance personified as it slowly lifted one golden foot clear of the water then lowered it and lifted the other.

The white of its chin and throat such a perfect contrast to the blue grey of the rest of its head.A truly beautiful looking heron about the size of a Little Egret, maybe a tad smaller and more slender.

It was five minutes of sheer bliss as it fed almost below us but it could not last and it flew away upriver.

We waited, well wouldn't you but I knew it was not going to come back.We had got our chance and taken it and now we should leave it at that and be grateful.

The heron eventually went to sit out the high tide, roosting in a tree by the river and we reluctantly left for home.