Moments from Shetland Part One September/October 2019

Late September and most of the month of October is the peak time to try and see vagrant and thus very rare birds on Shetland and many birders now make their way there to see what they can find on the various islands that comprise Shetland. The three main islands are Mainland, Yell and Unst and are the most popular with birders, with the smaller islands of Fetlar, Foula and Out Skerries also attracting their devotees. I planned to spend six days on Mainland and ten on Unst. 

Shetland can be daunting with its undulating, barren moorland and inhospitable weather but after a while something changes in one and the rugged  and lonely terrain becomes rather beautiful and appealing - at least it does to me! Almost everywhere you go there are sensational views of cliffs, strange  rock formations and endless huge landscapes with the constant backdrop of sea, be it the open sea or flowing in voes which carve long fingers into the landmass and are, I suppose, the equivalent of the grander fjords found in Norway, which is not that far away.

Shetland is as near Scandinavia as it is to mainland Scotland and when you are on Shetland you get a distinct sense that the land is only part Scottish and much more part Scandinavian due to its history of invasion by the Vikings and now commemorated by various festivals and Viking artefacts.

So it was that I embarked on the long journey north on a wet and windy Sunday, the 22nd of September. Thankfully, being a Sunday the traffic was negligible and nine hours later with just one stop at Tebay Services in the Lake District for refreshment, I cautiously drove into the reception car park at Northlink's Aberdeen Ferry Terminal and in no time at all myself and the car were ushered onto the huge Northlink ship MV Hrossey.

It was sunny and clear in Aberdeen as we slowly sailed out of the harbour at five in the afternoon, threading our way through the huge oil support vessels moored on either side. Slowly we cleared the outermost harbour reaches and headed out to the open sea. I rather enjoy the twelve hour overnight crossing but there are those, including my fellow birders, who suffer greatly from seasickness and the North Sea can be very rough at times.

I stood on the viewing deck at the back of the ship and watched the City of Aberdeen become ever more distant as countless Gannets flew across a deep blue sea, their white plumage radiant in the setting sun. There were many young with them, just fledged, newly independent and unlike their parents  an overall grey brown in colour peppered with myriad white spots, like stars in the night sky. A line of twenty Puffins overhauled us and flew parallel to the ship for a while before veering off to a destination unknown.

I returned inside and had a meal in the ship's restaurant and retired to my cabin early. I was very tired after my long journey north and the early start from Oxfordshire and the bed was comforting as I lay under my duvet and listened to the ship thumping through the restless sea.

At 7am on Monday we docked in Lerwick, which is on Mainland, the largest island in Shetland. I drove the car off the ferry and made my way to the estimable Peerie Cafe (peerie means small) just off the esplanade for a welcome breakfast of coffee, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. Later, in the afternoon I would make my way to Ortolan House, my accommodation for the next five days in Lerwick and the home of Rebecca Nason and her partner Phil Harris both of whom are birders, a prospect that put me very much at my ease.

I do not intend to list a day by day account of what I did and saw but recount some especially rewarding encounters with birds on Shetland and notably Orcas (Killer Whales) for which Shetland is fast becoming famous as 'the place' to see them in Britain.

As for the Bee Eater which heads this blog, please indulge me, as all will be made clear later. 

American Golden Plover  23rd September  Uyeasound  Unst  

With some hours to spare before I went to Ortolan House, on a whim, I decided to drive to Unst which is the northernmost inhabited island in Shetland. This is not quite as epic as it sounds for it only requires a twenty minute ferry crossing with the car from Toft on Mainland to Ulsta on Yell and then a twenty minute drive across Yell to Gutcher to catch the ten minute ferry to Belmont on Unst.

The road across Yell just after nine am.No traffic porblems here.

By mid morning I was on Unst and looking for my first rarity, an American Golden Plover, which had been reported from Uyeasound today and was just five minutes from the tiny Belmont ferry terminal. I had no real idea of where it would be, so set about scanning likely looking terrain around Uyeasound for flocks of our native European Golden Plovers. Stopping by the side of the main road, usually devoid of any vehicle for much of the time, I found a small mixed flock of Lapwing and Golden Plover, hardly into double figures. I got out the scope and using the car as a windbreak scanned the dozen or so golden plovers and there was the American Golden Plover, almost in full summer plumage and looking an absolute picture amongst its duller companions.

A great start to my trip and despite the worsening weather I felt that I had now opened my account in style. Shetland is not always this kind and one can go for some days without seeing anything rare or for that matter uncommon.

I watched the plover for fifteen minutes until a Merlin swept across the moorland and the plovers fled. I never saw the American Golden Plover again despite searching.

Melodious Warbler  24th September  Cullivoe  Yell

Shetland birders have created three WhatsApp Birding Groups which you can ask to join and these are the fastest and most efficient way to get almost instant daily news of rare, scarce and common birds being found on Shetland.They are an invaluable source of information, constantly being updated and, based on information received by this means, I was soon heading to Cullivoe on Yell where a Melodious Warbler had sought sanctuary, from the currently very strong wind, in a secluded garden. There is little cover on Shetland apart from windbreaks of conifers and/or small deciduous trees that protect the houses and gardens from the worst of the wind. This cover is naturally also attractive to birds which find welcome shelter there.

I arrived at the house in question to find the owner was typical of native Shetlanders in being very welcoming and helpful, even offering to let me and other birders into the garden but we remained outside for fear of spooking the bird. A long and cold wait ensued as there was no sign of the warbler which by all accounts had been visible for long periods before I arrived. Birders becoming bored and frustrated spread out to cover the surrounding fields and ditches and eventually the warbler was located in the middle of a nearby sheep field hunting for prey amongst the grass.To someone used to warblers being in trees and bushes it was a novel experience to see this and other warblers regularly hunting amongst rank grass and ground vegetation.

The warbler was much troubled by the wind, exposed as it was in the field and soon made its way back to the garden where it could gain some shelter and hopefully find some invertebrate prey. For a spell of a couple of minutes it sat in the open on a sloping fence support and allowed me the opportunity to take its picture, although somewhat distantly, before it dived over a wall and disappeared from view.

Yellow browed Warblers  Mainland and Unst 

I can remember when this bird was a real rarity and on mainland Britain it is still, with a few minor exceptions, a scarce bird, usually found in autumn.This is not the case in Shetland where it can be said to be almost common in the autumn with individuals being recorded from all over Shetland and often more than one together. An exceptional eighteen were found one morning during my stay on Mainland, feeding along ditches and in bushes and trees at a place called South Nesting.

I heard or saw them virtually every day, even in the centre of Lerwick and Phil, my host at Ortolan House and also a bird ringer brought one in to show me at breakfast that he had trapped in the garden a few minutes earlier

They can turn up literally anywhere from mature trees, conifer plantations and  gardens, to isolated bushes, cliffs, quarries and grassy ditches. Their breathy, high pitched querulous anxiety call often betrays their hidden presence, which up until then was unsuspected. They are real gems, hardly bigger than a Goldcrest, constantly active with attractive green upperparts, two pale yellow wing bars and a long yellow supercilium above each eye and from whence their name comes. Their normal breeding range is central and eastern Siberia and they winter in India and southeast China so why they should be so common on Shetland in autumn is unknown and quite remarkable but their presence may indicate an ongoing range expansion of the species. Whatever it is they always bring an extra thrill to me when I find one

I had a memorable encounter at Hermaness on Unst one morning when the wind, having turned southeast during the night caused a fall of Goldrests on the cliffs and in the garden of the currently closed Hermaness Visitor Centre. In amongst the Goldcrests coming in off the sea were four Yellow browed Warblers, each arriving separately from the sea and rapidly making their way inland, passing through the garden, feeding in the long grass and bracken as they went.

Little Bunting 26th September Swinister Burn  Hoswick Mainland 

A few Little Buntings usually turn up on Shetland in autumn but they are still a rare bird and most birders wish to see one if at all possible. A favourite location is Quendale Mill in the south of Mainland and I went there on a wet, windy and dreary afternoon, as one had been reported from here earlier in the day. The weather did not help and although I saw the bunting it was tucked right inside a small clump of wind stunted trees and only parts of it were visible at any one time. Eventually it flew out and was immediately blown by the wind far out over the surrounding fields and that was that.

While there I got talking to a tour guide leading a group and as is the way on Shetland we exchanged information about birds we had encountered that day. I told him about a Red breasted Flycatcher that was performing in a garden not far away and in return he told me about two Little Buntings he and his group had just seen that were frequenting Swinister Burn near Hoswick. I drove the short distance to Hoswick and walked along the burn but to no avail.

I gave up and resolved to return the next day, first thing, before too many other birders would undoubtedly decide to visit the burn. I need not have worried as the weather next morning was truly appalling, even by Shetland standards. Rain was falling steadily, although falling would be inaccurate a description as it was being hurled by an almost gale force wind. I guessed that few other birders would bother to venture out to this exposed location so made my way to Swinister Burn and indeed found myself alone. I walked the length of the burn and found, yes, nothing. Phil had assured me at breakfast the buntings were there all yesterday but try as I might I could not locate them. I walked the length of the burn again and this time a small bird flicked up from the grass onto a wire fence.Yes at last! On raising my bins I found myself looking at a Spotted Flycatcher which dived down into the shelter of some small willows growing below and in the lee of the burn's steep and grassy banks.

Spotted Flycatcher

I walked on and another small bird slipped though the willows, low down just above the tumbling water. Surely this was a Little Bunting? I raised my bins in anticipation and found - the Spotted Flycatcher - again. It had obviously flown low along the burn and was still using the shelter of the burn's banks to keep out of the wind. I was mortified. Yes it was nice to see the flycatcher and totally unexpected, as is often the way on Shetland, but it was a Little Bunting I was seeking. I gave up and went to the local bakers for a roll and a coffee.

Suitably refreshed I decided on one final attempt to find a Little Bunting and walked the burn yet again but only found a Yellow browed Warbler and had a very brief glimpse of two small brown birds that flew up from the burn and disappeared into the surrounding impenetrable bushes. Could they have been the buntings? It was the right habitat but my view was too brief. Another birder appeared and asked about the buntings. I told him what I had seen and we parted.

Tired, very wet and totally fed up I followed the well worn track beside the burn for the final time, heading for the car parked up on the road. A small movement caught my eye in the familar clump of willows by the burn. Not that flycatcher again. I looked closer in my bins just to make sure and there, as bold as you like, was a Little Bunting. It sat, low in the willow and looked at me. Totally confiding and unafraid. It appeared to be having as much trouble with the wind and rain as was I and was reluctant to return to the rain sodden grass where it presumably had been feeding, hidden from view.

It spent some time preening, trying to get some order into its wet feathers and then hopped down onto  the grass and commenced feeding again but it was restless, discomfited by the rain. It hopped back into the willows for a spell and then made another more successful attempt at feeding in the grass. After some minutes it gave up the struggle and flew away into the shelter of some nearby rosa bushes and was gone.

Naturally I was delighted and felt fully justified in this triumph of obstinate will over the elements. True, I was lucky, but it also goes to show that persistence is the name of the game on Shetland and habitat that initially appears to hold nothing of interest often proves the exact opposite if you have the patience and will to persevere. Oh, and a little bit of good fortune too!

to be continued .............

A Not so Common Nighthawk in Northern Ireland 10th October 2019

I was birding in Shetland on Monday the 7th of October when news broke of a Common Nighthawk being found in Northern Ireland, frequenting a horse field near a place called Galgorm which is two miles west of Ballymena in Co Antrim and but half an hour's drive from Belfast International Airport. 

This bird may be common in its normal breeding range in northern North America but is decidedly a very rare bird here in Britain with but 22 previous records in Britain and 2 in Ireland.

I thought about it and as I was due to leave Shetland on Tuesday mulled over a vague plan to maybe drive from Aberdeen, where the overnight ferry from Shetland docked, to Stranraer and take another ferry to Northern Ireland.

I decided against this as it was just too much to organise and put the whole affair to the back of my mind. Mark, a twitching colleague then contacted me on Tuesday and asked if I was going for it and sensing my lack of enthusiasm as we discussed the situation suggested that instead of driving via Stranraer on my own I could fly with him from Luton, near where he lived, to Belfast and be back the same day, having hopefully seen the bird.

In the meantime I had been contacted by another birding friend, Paul, who lives near me in Oxfordshire and who was also keen to go. I asked Mark if he had any objections to Paul coming with us if we went and he said he had no problem with that so in the space of a day there was potentially three of us keen to go and see the nighthawk. It would be good fun and I became much more positive in my outlook.

Now fired with a new found enthusiasm it did not take long for me to agree to Mark's plan as it is always nice to travel to twitches with company but we agreed to wait before booking flights and see if the nighthawk was still there the next morning, Wednesday, when I was due to make the long nine hour drive home from Aberdeen. 

It was and driving south I stopped at Tebay Services and spoke to Mark. I listened on the phone as he sorted out our tickets on the internet and in half an hour the three of us were booked on an Easyjet flight from Luton to Belfast, leaving at 7am on Thursday.

I was not going to get much sleep after I got home as I would have to be up at two am to pick up Paul who lives nearby and then drive for another two hours to Luton to rendezvous with Mark.

Thankfully Mark's organisational skills worked perfectly and on arriving at his house in Luton at around 4.30am we awaited a taxi to take us to the airport which duly arrived on time and then we proceeded through the security hell that is now standard if you wish to travel anywhere by air.

A coffee revived us in the departure area and then we crammed onto a very full plane and an hour later landed in Belfast that, despite the Easyjet captain's cheery weather forecast of sun, was in fact awaking under grey clouds that were threatening rain at any moment.

We were, however, relatively relaxed as the nighthawk had already been posted on RBA (Rare Bird Alert) as still being in its regular field this morning The car hire was a formality, again courtesy of Mark, and within half an hour we were following the satnav in a nice new car to an audience with a Common Nighthawk. I could hardly wait as this was a bird I had waited a very long time to see in Britain.

Common Nighthawks are very rare in Britain with this being the twenty third if accepted which it will be. This particular nighthawk was first noticed by a fly fisherman as it flew up and down the River Maine which borders the horse field and was thought to be a late European Nightjar hunting insects at dusk.   Subsequent examination of photos of the bird revealed it was in fact a Common Nighthawk and various unsubstantiated reports intimated that it had been present for up to three weeks, which if true would be unprecedented. Birders began to take a much closer interest and consult ferry and plane schedules to Belfast from mainland Britain.

Common Nighthawks are summer migrants to most of northern North America and have one of the longest migrations of any North American species, covering anything from 1600-4200 miles from their breeding grounds to wintering areas in southern South America, and on migration they travel in loose flocks both by night and day.

They are still relatively common in summer in the USA but being a ground nester are vulnerable to predation by ground predators such as cats and rats and habitat disturbance. I can recall them in a small town in Minnesota many years ago. flying at night over flat roofed buildings, where they roosted during the day. 

We arrived at the field in question, which was made obvious by the presence of three birders looking up into a large Ash tree. We followed a muddy path across the wet field, wading through thigh high nettles, thistles and rank grass with the river on our right. 

Crossing a small bridge over a wet ditch we joined the birders who pointed up to a branch in the Ash tree where a hunched shape morphed, via my binoculars, into a Common Nighthawk, roosting lengthwise along the branch in classic nightjar fashion. It was as straightforward as that.

We walked around trying to find the best angle to take photos and once happy, settled down and clicked away with our cameras. Sadly there was no sign of any sun and we made the best of the grey conditions and wind shaken leaves around the nighthawk which remained resolutely motionless on its chosen branch. 

Some Irish birders joined us which was a pleasure as invariably they are extremely friendly and hospitable and we chatted away underneath the roosting nighthawk.

Occasionally it would shuffle about and pick at an irritating feather, swaying in a gentle sideways rocking motion on its perch and half opening an eye but soon it would lapse back into stillness. After an hour it began to rain. This was forecast to last for most of the morning and then it would stop at around lunchtime. The nighthawk was going nowhere, that was certain, so we made enquiries about somewhere to go and get a late breakfast and were directed to Galgorm Castle Garden Centre which had a cafe and was but a couple of miles back up the road.

It was raining steadily as we entered the pleasant surroundings of the popular cafe and soon were tucking in to a magnificent breakfast with another coffee to keep us awake. Even in early October  Christmas had already arrived at Galgorm Castle Garden Centre, with artificial Christmas trees and the usual festive tat on show which I thought was somewhat premature.

Looking out of the window I could see it was still raining hard and steadily.We were in no hurry so chatted away. Our return flight was not until nine in the evening so we were here for the day despite the weather. On the way in I had noticed a mouth watering selection of cakes and pastries. I had been very good and manfully resisted such temptations but in the end both Paul and myself could contain ourselves no longer and returned to the counter, me for apple pie and Paul for lemon meringue with an obscene amount of cream to go with it. Both were,  of course, delicious. Forbidden fruit and all that!

Lemon Meringue Pie and Cream!

Sated we sat and chatted some more as the rain continued to fall remorselessly. We decided to  go back to the field and sit in the car until the rain abated but it was quite some time before the rain passed. When it did we went back through a now much muddier and wetter field to join some other local Irish birders and indulge in some further friendly banter. 

Mark, who is a very good photographer got friendly with a kindred spirit in the form of a serious Irish photographer and they commenced swapping lens and talking cameras whilst I clicked away contentedly

And so we stood in the field for another five hours, quite happy as other birders came and went. The nighthawk became, at various times, more active, moving its position  on the branch, preening and occasionally opening a sleepy eye to look around. It was always obvious when it was going to come to life as it would commence a gentle swaying of its body from side to side and then indulge in some feather maintenance. Possibly the soaking it had received in the rain had made some of the feathers waterlogged and irritating.

During its brief periods of activity it displayed some of its diagnostic characteristics, such as the white throat patch,  the large  white oval patch on each wing and the sub terminal white bar on its tail which indicated it was a male. 

Overall its plumage seemed darker and greyer than our more familar European Nightjar but this may have been due to the rain soaking the feathers. Its bill was tiny, even smaller than a European Nightjar but concealed an enormous mouth which it would open wide. like a trawler's net, when it flew in the evening to catch insects.

Common Nighthawk courtesy of Mark

Time passed not unpleasantly and the rain for the most part kept off apart from one heavy shower sending us into cover. The five horses in the field which had largely ignored us up to now began to take more of an interest as more birders arrived in anticipation of the nighthawk leaving its tree and commencing feeding. 

I stood on the river's bank. A clean river of dark, rich brown water which contained wild salmon and trout and chatted to a couple of local birders and an interested fisherman. 

A Dipper flew downstream, passing under the overhanging trees that were slowly turning to the colours of autumn. High overhead a lone Whooper Swan headed towards the coast and four Hooded Crows and many Jackdaws flew, in a now quite windy sky, to gather in distant trees prior to roosting.

A local lady arrived with free tea and biscuits.What a splendid gesture. Thank you Ireland.

We were all awaiting one thing and that was the time when the nighthawk would fly out from the tree and commence hunting insects. Previous appearances had been around six thirty to seven o' clock and, a little late, the nighthawk duly left the tree and flew at speed some way across the field and could be seen hunting over some distant trees. Birders who had seen it before said it always did this and then returned to fly low, up and down the river. By now there were some twenty birders lined along the river bank and we watched the nighthawk in silhouette, flying against the darkening sky. What a contrast to its lumpen immobility for all the  hours it had passed on its branch in the tree, for it now hurtled about the sky, the very embodiment of speed and agility

I was amazed at its feeding technique, far faster and erratic than our European Nightjar, swooping and turning with amazing dexterity and acceleration, behaving more like a small falcon, a Hobby sprang to mind, than a nightjar. Its long wings and slighty forked long tail no doubt facilitated its supreme flying ability. It came and went against the sky and then the grand finale was upon us, as in the failing light it hurtled up and down the river only feet away and just above the fast flowing waters of the river.What an exhilerating and wondrous experience to end a memorable day as this very rare bird sped back and fore, whizzing close past my head, displaying the large white wing patches that almost glowed in the failing light.

Truly a spectacle that I never thought I would see here in Britain.

Late Summer Waders at Farmoor 19th September 2019

The early autumn brought a welcome week of consistent sun and warm temperatures, the veritable 'Indian Summer,' resulting in the unlikely concrete shores of Oxford's Farmoor Reservoir, in the heart of England, playing host to a delightful assortment of wading birds making their way from the high Arctic to their various winter homes in Europe and Africa.

Even more pleasing is that these waders were very confiding, allowing one to approach and admire them from very close range. They were all juveniles and possibly had never seen a human before so were yet to acquire any fear. One or more Dunlin are virtually forever present at this time of year but today the one Dunlin was augmented by single individuals of less frequently encountered wader species such as Ruff, Knot and the most appealing of them all, a superb juvenile Little Stint, which is by no means an annual visitor to the reservoir.

The Ruff and the Knot struck up an association, following each other around the reservoir, picking their way through not only thousands of moulted gull, goose and duck feathers but the hundreds of Greylag and Canada Geese loafing away the hot afternoon beside the beguiling blue waters of the reservoir.

So too did the Little Stint and Dunlin keep similar close company and wander the concrete shoreline together, picking up minute morsels as they progressed. The Little Stint kept a wary eye on the geese, but still ventured close and the comparison between their respective sizes was there for all to marvel at. 

Little Stint and Canada Goose

The sultry afternoon sun persuaded the Dunlin to rest and sleep but the Little Stint preferred to carry on feeding until it too grew tired and wandered up the concrete slope to join the Dunlin in repose. A sight that was enough to charm even the least sentimental of observers and offer a different perspective on a bird's life from one that is purely scientific and objective.

Note the difference in size between the Little Stint and the Dunlin

Little Stints are tiny, little larger than a sparrow but their presence brings wonder and incredulity that such a scrap of life can, intuitively travel so far, from the high Arctic all the way to Africa, south of the Sahara.

Here are some images of the Little Stint that spent around a week at Farmoor and the other waders I saw there today, and which illustrate their beauty as well as their enduring charm.

Juvenile Little Stint

Juvenile Knot

Juvenile Knot and Ruff

Juvenile Ruff-male