Tarred and Feathers 16th February 2026

After yesterday's rain it was with some trepidation I looked out of the window to be greeted by bright sunshine! What's going on! So accustomed to the doom and gloom of what has been weeks of rain  I was thoroughly unprepared for this welcome sight.

An hour later I determined to take full advantage and make a day of it, out birding the local lakes around my part of West Oxfordshire. I say local lakes but so much rain has fallen that many other transient lakes have formed over fields and in low lying river valleys hereabouts, adding considerably to the natural ones which in turn have expanded exponentially, overflowing their banks to such an extent that adjacent roads and paths are now temporarily shallow streams as the huge volume of extra water seeks an escape route.

My destination of choice was just south of Witney, our local town, at what are now called Rushy Common and Tar Lakes, the former a nature reserve for key holders only, offering a range of habitats including standing water, ponds, ditches, islands and a gravelly shore line while the adjacent Tar Lakes is an area of open lakes and grassland available to the general public for recreation.Both form part of what is the Lower Windrush Valley Project (LWVP) which was set up in 2001 to convert former gravel pits and quarries back to  a diverse range of natural habitats.  It was opened to the public in May 2011 and the whole area can be accessed via the single track Tar Road which runs for several miles from Witney to Stanton Harcourt.

A short drive along the wet and puddle bestrewn Tar Road, its sodden verges churned to mud by passing cars brought me to the car park at Rushy Common from where a short walk brings you to a gate that requires a key to open a padlock and access another short track to the hide, the same key serving to open the door to the hide. A necessary precaution to maintain the hide in good order and prevent misuse 

I should add at this point my visit was not without a specific purpose. A drake Long tailed Duck, a rare visitor to Oxfordshire, has been frequenting Rushy Common and the flooded disused gravel pits on the opposite side of the Tar Road. Long tailed Ducks are more normally to be found on the sea where large numbers congregate in winter on northern coasts of the Atlantic before moving to their breeding areas in the tundra and taiga  zones of the Arctic. Single birds do occur inland in Britain but this is exceptional, especially as far inland as Oxfordshire.The last bird recorded in the county was a summer plumaged male that spent a day on a disused gravel pit at nearby Cassington on the 14th of May 2021. 

This latest visitor had been discovered on the lake at Rushy Common on the afternoon of the 3rd of February and was seen by a few lucky observers who could get there in time but had gone by the next morning. Nothing more was seen of it until it showed up  in torrential rain on  the gravel pit complex opposite Rushy Common on the afternoon of Friday the 13th. After a fraught journey through heavy traffic and frantic diversions around flooded roads I made it to the car park at Rushy Common and in failing light and the inevitable downpour crossed the road and traversed a muddy slick of a permissive path to view it diving and feeding on a former gravel pit amongst a small flock of Tufted Ducks.It was touch and go but nevertheless a triumph of will to actually see it after such a difficult journey. and  to even record the moment with my camera. As you can see the quality of my photo left a lot to be desired. 

Valentines Day was predicted to be very cold and sunny and of course I returned first thing with high hopes the duck would still be there and with better light I could improve on my photographic efforts. Almost inevitably there was no sign of it nor on the adjacent Rushy Common lake. Resignedly I went to look at displaying Goshawks near my home which almost made up for the disappointment.

Sunday the 15th February was again rainy and a birding group visiting the hide at Rushy Common mid morning re-found the Long tailed Duck amongst the hundreds of Shoveler, Wigeon and Teal on the lake.Where had it been in the meantime as this lake had been thoroughly checked yesterday  and there was no sign of it. Then it did its disappearing act again as disappointed birders advised there was no trace of it atRushyCommon by mid afternoon or on any of the other lakes nearby. 

This duck's regular disappearances has brought no little frustration to local birders, as unfailingy it can be found on one day but the next day is nowhere to be seen.I am sure it remains locally but there is so  much suitable habitat for it to choose from it can be impossible to find.

So today with the Long tailed Duck very much in mind I went looking for it. I checked as many of the former gravel pits as possible but with no success only finding the usual flocks of chirruping Teal and Tufted Ducks. Two Egyptian Geese scolding harshly flew up to perch in a dead tree.

My final throw of the birding dice was the bird hide at Rushy Common. Taking the track to the locked gate I was confronted with a path transformed to a stream which required wading through. 

The Tar Road on the other side of the hedge was also underwater as floodwater spilled in a torrent from the former gravel pit on the other side.

The Tar Road underwater

Thankful to have remembered my wellingtons it required much care to get to the gate and then to the hide without the water spilling over the tops of my boots.Needless to say I was the only person visiting the hide, and gazing out  I checked and re-checked the many ducks out on the water.There was no sign of the Long tailed Duck but I put it to the back of my mind for a short while, enjoying the uplifting sight of so many ducks including a dozen splendid Northern Pintails, all resplendent in their finest plumage in the sunshine.The drake Shovelers were especially striking, their handsome colours diverting my gaze from their outlandishly huge, spatulate bill.

I devoted half an hour in the hide and then left to wade carefully back to the padlocked gate. Once through the gate, rather than returning to the car park I crossed the flooded Tar Road to a gate on the opposite side of the road that opened onto Tar Lakes.

The first of the lakes was immediately on the left after passing though the gate and although it seemed a forlorn hope that maybe just maybe the Long tailed Duck might be on the lake I thought it worth a cursory look. No one to my knowledge had checked this lake recently but then why would they as with free access people take their dogs for walks here with resulting ongoing disturbance which causes most of the wildfowl to seek out the undisturbed Rushy Common on the opposite side of the Tar Road.

The left side of the lake looked almost impassable, the track submerged in deep water with just a thin strip of waterlogged grass by the thick hedge that screened the lake from the road. 

The left side of the lake.The normal path is deep under the water

The right side of the lake looked just about passable although much of the path that circumvented it was also under water but fortunately not above the height of my wellingtons

I scanned the lake expecting very little and it looked like I was right. It was almost free of waterfowl apart from what I presumed were four or five Tufted Ducks at the far end. I watched as they dived but one of the ducks dived in a different manner to the others, using its wings to assist in propelling itself below the surface.Tufted Ducks never do this but Long tailed Ducks most certainly do employ this distinctive method of submerging. I have seen it many times when watching Long tailed Ducks in Scotland.

Could I really be sure of what I had seen or was it fanciful imagination? Only one way to find out and I told myself I was probably wrong. The ducks were very distant and so far had been viewed through my bins so I waited until they surfaced and got my scope trained on the far end of the lake to observe the ducks more clearly.  

For once the birding gods smiled on me for I had not imagined what I had seen. Joy of joys, one of the ducks now back on the surface  looked very white on its head and flanks, almost like a drake smew but larger with a brown patch on the side of its head and brown wings.This was no Tufted Duck but most definitely the elusive Long tailed Duck.

I stood savouring this minor triumph. Why not? Every serious birder gets to experience such a moment one or more times in their birding career.This was one of mine.

I wanted to get closer to get a photograph  if possible. Easier said than done as the water was already half way up my wellingtons and the waterlogged grass edge soon ran out  and I found myself gingerly edging along the left side of the lake in fairly deep floodwater, hard up by the hedge. The still distant ducks showed little concern assuming they had even noticed me. I tried to remain as close  to the hedge as possible to mask my profile and continued to move slowly towards them. At any moment it could go wrong and the birds fly off or the water would spill over my boots.

Eventually I could progress no further as the water was too deep, so stopped and tried for some record shots.The light on the water was very trying and with the duck constantly diving frustration levels began to rise but I did what I could. Eventually the duck ceased feeding and loafed around with its tufted friends which it seemed very attached to.Then followed a short bout of preening and wing flapping and once satisfied all was in order it tucked its bill into its back feathers and went to sleep. Not for long though, for as soon as the Tufted Ducks recommenced feeding so did the Long tailed Duck.

I returned to the gate and took the path to the right of the lake which would get me to the end of the lake unlike on the left side. Again much of the path was underwater but passable in my wellingtons. As before I hugged the hedgeline to conceal my approach and slowly I advanced until I was  almost opposite to where the ducks were diving on the far side.Still a bit distant for my camera and lens but there was nothing more I could do. A tall dense hedge behind me masked my profile and a willow growing at the edge of the lake was handy to hide behind.

This was it.The best I could do. It was now or never. Please let it be.The sun shone and the water was almost blue. The duck's white feathers shone bright in the sun. I raised the camera and as I did a rain squall arrived turning the water grey and bringing increased misery in the form of even stronger gusts of bitter wind.I cursed my luck as at the very moment I had planned and worked so hard towards I was thwarted by the unpredictable elements. There was nothing I could do but wait it out.Thankfully the shower was over in minutes, the sun returned, the wind dropped and once more I pointed the camera in the direction of the Long tailed Duck. 

I waited with camera poised until the duck surfaced from a dive and took my photos. It was the same procedure each time; wait for the duck to submerge and when its distinctive white and brown body resurfaced take as many images as possible before it dived again. The wind remained troublesome, strong gusts buffeted me but thankfully the rain did not return. Many of the images were  disappointingly blurred as my camera  lens and indeed me were at the limit of our capabilities but thankfully some images were acceptable.

I put the news out on Oxon Birding and assumed there would be some local birders who would want to come and see it but I saw no one in the hour I remained at Tar Lakes.

A couple with a large dog arrived and threw a ball into the lake for the dog to retrieve but thankfully the ducks were distant enough not to be troubled by the splashing and barking. Dog and owners departed after a few minutes and I was on my own again.

It was now quite pleasant in the sun although the wind was annoyingly chilly and I entered an enjoyable period of reflection and self congratulation. Well wouldn't you?

Little else was on the lake. A Great White Egret stalked the edge of the flood before flying off over the trees. Formerly a great rarity they maintain a regular presence here now. A flotilla of Wigeon cruised aimlessly on the water, the drake's melodic wheeooo whistling accompanying their progress 

I walked, sorry waded, back around the lakeside to the gate and then through the flood on the road to my car. The whistling of Wigeon and chirruping of Teals still echoing in my ears.

A good day of birding and pleasingly local for a change. 

I will sleep soundly tonight. 

 

Ruddy Weather - 11th February 2026

And so dawned another day of weather misery. Wet and grey. Nothing much to look forward to apart from my regular amble around Farmoor Reservoir in the company of Phil with nil prospect of anything birdwise apart from the wintering female Greater Scaup and young male Common Scoter, the novelty of whose presence has long since dissipated

We walked around the smaller basin of the reservoir and retired to the cafe for a coffee. Cold and disconsolate we spent half an hour chatting and then came a parting of the ways

See you on Friday and Phil was gone

I sat staring out of the window. Listless, disinterested and yes depressed. I think I am not alone in feeling this way, everyone I am sure at a loss as to what to do, how to cope, but going home was not an option. Surely there must be something that could energise me but there was little to excite on the birding front. It's February after all is said and done. At least it was not raining and in fact I caught a rare glimpse of the sun, such a stranger in these interminable days of endless rain and grey gloom.

In desperation I decided to revisit the pair of Smew, a rare winter visitor to Oxfordshire these days, that remain on a nearby private fishing lake at Linch Hill. A male Smew in all its white magnificence is always worth another look. It was though far from ideal as the lake, formerly with free access is now owned by a fishing syndicate, fenced off and guarded  by closed circuit cameras. Birders are apparently not welcome and have to resort to looking through the fence and trees lining the banks from the adjacent road to gain, if you are lucky a restricted view of the two Smew. So many of the lakes around here are now inaccessible and reserved for private fishing as there is big money to be made offering the opportunity to catch enormous carp. Another lake that has had free access for at least the last thirty years has just been leased by a miserable individual who has fenced it all off and banned everyone apart from his fishing friends, and so it goes on.

I drove to  the Smew and met Dave who told me they were visible but as always very distantly.In the end I lost interest and the will to carry on and sat in the car, downcast and for a while completely at a loss.

It was mid afternoon and I recalled that this morning someone had reported a rare  Ruddy Shelduck in the company of some Egyptian Geese, flying over flooded fields near Abingdon and now came further news that it and the Egyptian Geese had been re-found on yet more flooded farmland not far from Abingdon at a place called Marcham.

Ruddy Shelducks are an almost annual visitor to Oxfordshire, principally in autumn and usually involve single birds, sometimes two although small parties can and do occur such as the nine that were present on the Queen Pool at Blenheim from the 9th of August until the 9th of September 2020 .  

Ruddy Shelducks that occur in Britain,  we are told, are probably not genuinely wild in that they do not originate from their normal range in southern Europe, North Africa and central Asia but are more likely to be either escapes from wildfowl collections or from the various feral populations that now exist in Switzerland, Germany and The Netherlands. As with many non native duck species that are found in Britain it is impossible to tell.

My view on the provenance of this and other Ruddy Shelducks that arrive in Britain is that they are wild birds breeding and existing outside of captivity and as it is impossible in most cases to ascertain their origin I should just enjoy their unusual occurrence and presence and leave it at that. The Egyptian Geese with which this bird at Marcham was associating are also not originally a native species but are now accepted as wild birds and legitimate to count so why not the Ruddy Shelduck?

This winter there has been an unprecedented weather related influx of Russian White fronted and Bean Geese into Britain from mainland Europe and it is possible that this latest Ruddy Sheduck to visit Oxfordshire has come with them. Just a thought! 

We do so complicate matters by the desire to assign everything to neat boxes.Nature is not like that which is why this aspect of birding is so fascinating and compelling.

Ruddy Shelducks are an attractive species being an overall rusty brown in colour with a natty black bill and black flight feathers and tail.This individual was a female identifiable by its pale head and lack of a narrow black ring around its neck 

I was not sure where exactly the shelduck was so set the satnav for Marcham and planned to take it from there when I arrived.Very fortunately as I got to Marcham another birder put a post with a dropped pin on the Oxon Birding website, so that courtesy of Google Maps I would be guided exactly to where the shelduck was to be found.This was just as well as I would have struggled to locate the bird otherwise

Once in Marcham I drove down a narrow and inevitably potholed lane that eventually terminated at a farm.Well before the farm I parked the car in about the only possible space that would not block the road.

Paul was there, standing by the verge

I wound down the car window.

Is the Ruddy Shelduck still around Paul? 

Yes it's further down the road on the flood on the right hand side with three Gypos, a couple of Common Shelduck and five Little Egrets. You can't miss it.

We walked to a gap in the hedge on the right of the road and scanned further across the flooded fields and there was the Ruddy Shelduck stood in the wet grass near to the Egyptian Geese it had been presumably associating with when seen this morning. I suppose to the shelduck the geese were the nearest thing to one of its own kind and thus made it feel more at home

Another two birders came up the lane having obviously been viewing the shelduck and advised me to walk further down the lane which would get me closer and with an unrestricted view.

I noticed one of them was carrying a camera

Photographable?  I enquired

Without a word he showed me an image on the back of his camera

Oh definitely!

I got my camera from the car.

Walking a hundred metres or so further down the lane brought me to a low hedge over which I could view the flood and photograph the shelduck which was not doing much apart from standing on the waterlogged ground looking relaxed and maintaining a discrete distance from the Egyptian Geese. 

After a while it commenced preening and then joined one of the Egyptian Geese at the edge of the flood to sift through the water and grass.

I gave it twenty minutes and then satisfied, returned to my car feeling a lot better about life than I had an hour ago.

A Possible Holboell's Red necked Grebe at Cheddar Reservoir - 7th February 2026

Will it ever cease? The rain that is. For days now the land has been blighted by continual rain, wind, mist, low cloud, you name it, bringing an all pervading gloom that has had me going stir crazy. Its been a real struggle to keep myself from sinking into a trough of despond and there seems no end in sight which is worst of all.

I struggle to find things to occupy me with this loss of birding opportunities. I am not the kind of person who readily  takes to reading the paper, drinking coffee in a cafe or staring at nothing in particular out of the window but that is what it will come to if I am not careful.

It's a downward spiral. Even the arrrival of a pair of Smew at a local fishing lake only temporarily raised my mood. The lake, formerly free to wander around is now fenced off and strictly private so one has to resort to view the birds distantly from the road, through the fence and prolific trees which is hardly the kind of birding solace I needed at this point in time.

What to do? Something proactive  was required and in spite of the rain I made my mind up that if there was the slightest chance of the weather relenting even a little bit I was up and out.No question. 

I always bang on about mindfulness, living in the moment, so how about administering some to myself .

Checking the forecast there appeared to be a slight relenting of the weather on the coming Saturday.It would still be rain showers but light rather than heavy. Clutching at this ephemeral straw I mulled over where to go birding. 

Slimbridge WWT (Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust) was tempting as it was relatively nearby but it would be a Saturday and the place would be heaving with people sheltering from the rain in cramped hides. Not at all enticing. What else would be around to raise my spirit? Nothing in Oxfordshire that's for certain. Farmoor Reservoir, my local patch still had its lone Common Scoter and female Greater Scaup but going to see them for the umpteenth time was hardly going to help 

There was however the enticing prospect of a Red necked Grebe in Somerset, a good bird to see. Even better the bird in question was being promoted as possibly not a 'normal' Eurasian Red necked Grebe from Europe and western Siberia Podiceps grisegena grisegena but the subspecies P. g. holbollii a North American Red necked Grebe, colloquially called Holboell's Red necked Grebe which hails from North America and East Asia. The latter is not yet regarded as a full species but may well be in the future and as I have never seen this subspecies it definitely would get my birding juices flowing. 

The grebe had been found at Cheddar Reservoir on the 25th January this year (Burn's nicht to us Scots) and had been present ever since, favouring the northwest corner of the reservoir by all accounts.

Now for a slight digression as I venture into some technical detail

I am uncertain of this subspecies current status in Great Britain.There is an old record that pre dates the BBRC (British Birds Records Committee) of one shot in September 1925 at Gruinard Bay by Aultbea, Ross and Cromarty, Scotland that apparently was accepted by the BOURC (British Ornithologist Union Records Committee) in 1928 as the first record for Great Britain. There has subsequently been another more contemporary record of one seen in Quendale Bay, Mainland, Shetland in February 2024 which was later found dead and subsequent biometrics and genetic analysis indicated it was the subspecies P.g holbollii Holboell's Red necked Grebe but its acceptance is still in abeyance as those who sit in judgement are said to require further measurements. One has to ask why? If and surely when accepted this will constitute the second record of Holboell's Red necked Grebe for Great Britain.

Outside of Great Britain it is also a rare bird with six being recorded from Iceland, two from Spain and one each from Norway, Sweden and France.

Whether the Cheddar Reservoir bird is a Holboell's or not is very much open to question and it is unlikely that it will ever be officially accepted based solely on a field description.

For what it is worth the main criteria for distinguishing the two sub species in the field are as follows:

Holboell's are meant to be larger than Eurasian Red necked Grebe, the bill looks longer, slimmer and more pointed, the neck is longer and thicker and the flanks are ash coloured and look dark, as opposed to off white and pale. All of this is subjective and as we all know individual birds can vary. Weather and light conditions also have an influence on appearance and  birds can vary in colour saturation, especially in wet weather such as when I viewed the grebe today.

Also there is the caveat that some live Holboell's cannot safely be separated on plumage details and size from the Eurasian subspecies

The only reliable way to identify a suspected  Holboell's is by taking measurements in the hand and/or undertaking genetic analysis, neither of which are currently possible for the Cheddar bird.

Personally I am not sure about this particular individual at Cheddar.Sometimes I look at my images and think it may be one and at other times I feel the opposite . Of course I want it to be a Holboell's but I lack experience, never having knowingly seen a Holboell's although I have seen seen plenty of the Eurasian subspecies.

Perhaps in the unlikely event of someone obtaining a feather from this grebe on Cheddar Reservoir there is a chance of genetic analysis which will establish its true identity. Fanciful I know but birders are ever resourceful. 

I have never been to Cheddar Reservoir which lies between the village of Cheddar and the town of Axbridge in Somerset. The reservoir is managed by Bristol Water and was completed in 1937, containing 135 million gallons of water within its two and a half mile circumference. Like many reservoirs it accommodates water related activities such as a yacht club, windsurfing and angling.It is also a designated SSSI (Site of Special Scientific Interest) because of its wintering wildfowl.

I awoke on Saturday and casting a jaundiced eye out of the bedroom window regarded an all too familiar  scene of heavy rain and wind. So much for the forecast! It was obvious what the decision should be but such was my anxiety to get out and do something I abandoned common  sense, never my strong point, donned wet weather gear and set course for the southwest.

Easier said than done as first came the pothole lottery that comprised the road outside my house  and demanded careful negotiating by car otherwise it was likely to result in a costly exercise of replacing a tyre or worse a whole wheel. Then there was the flood further along the road to negotiate before making my way across the Cotswolds to join the M5.

My arrival on the motorway coincided with an apochryphal rainstorm  causing the motorway to disappear in a miasma of spray from fast moving almost invisible vehicles. I went into survival mode, slowing my speed, selecting the inside lane and putting on fog lights front and back as vehicles going far too fast hurtled past me or followed too closely. 

Thankfully, after thirty miles I turned off the motorway onto smaller roads but now revisited the pohole lottery, winding cautiously uphill and through congested small villages until I came to an easily missable turn off just west of Cheddar which led to the reservoir.

At the bottom of the short approach road there was welcome free parking directly below the reservoir's bank. I sat out yet another violent rain shower, noting that the Met Office definition of light rain certainly did not accord with what I was currently experiencing.

Suitably waterproofed and with bins, camera in its bag and scope I ascended the steps to the top of the reservoir and joined a puddle strewn cinder track that is a public footpath and circumvents what is an impressively large reservoir. 

The valve tower in the northwest corner of the reservoir, the area the grebe favoured

I was now in the northwest corner of the reservoir basin and encountered a departing birder who told me the grebe had been showing well just beyond the valve tower which I could see about a hundred metres further along the edge of the reservoir wall.

You should have no problem. It's about twenty metres off the wall by the tower and has been there for at least the last thirty minutes he told me while pointing in the direction.

Thanks

I made for the valve tower, passing some very wet and cold anglers just as another huge grey cloud deposited a wind driven, stinging rain shower onto me and the anglers. It continued relentlessly for ten minutes, stopping me in my tracks and even my waterproofs began to show signs of surrender. 

Once the rain had eased I made my way to the valve tower and scanned the churning waters through bins dripping with water.

I saw a large grebe bouncing  amongst the waves 

Aha! There it is.

I looked closer

It was a Great crested Grebe.

I walked a short distance beyond the valve tower and there was another grebe swimming offshore. 

Holboell's Red necked Grebe I presume. Pleased to meet you. I muttered with palpable relief

I got my camera out from its bag just as another rain shower hit.There was no hiding place so I stood  as wind and rain battered me and shoved the camera back in its bag pronto. The grebe disappeared in the rain and gloom. Eventually the shower passed, the sky lightened and there was the grebe still relatively close in, riding the choppy waters and I got my camera back out and took a few images.

My scope was not needed and as the grebe looked settled I decided to return my redundant scope to the security of my car but on getting back to the valve tower I found the grebe had gone. I scanned and scanned but it was nowhere to be seen. I decided to walk right around the vastness of the reservoir in the hope of finding it somewhere else.

It was a daunting prospect and it was only as I walked and was regularly and successively battered by oncoming rain showers that I realised there was another car park on the other side of the reservoir that I could have driven to but it was.too late to do anything about it now.

Even in the foul weather there were people taking a walk or jogging around the reservoir including many dog walkers, something that is not allowed at my local Farmoor Reservoir.

I had been told by a local birder that on the far side of the reservoir where there was another valve tower and it was more sheltered from the wind I would find three Greater Scaup and two Black necked Grebes in amongst the numerous Coots and Great crested Grebes massed there.I found the scaup and a few Common Pochard and Tufted Ducks but could not find the Black necked Grebes.

Greater Scaup -  two males and a female

I continued walking around the reservoir and back to my original starting point and of course there was the Red necked Grebe back in its favourite northwest corner. Where had it been? No matter it was back and I made the most of it as it rode the waves. Almost un-noticed the rain had cleared and the light improved considerably  and to such an extent I could now achieve some half decent images of the grebe as it faced into the wind and slid up and down in the wave troughs.

 

Eventually it seemed to tire of the effort of swimming in the rough water and with an ungainly, short pattering run on enormous feet took to the air and the mystery of where it would disappear to was solved. It flew low into the wind, across the reservoir to join the coots and grebes in the calmer water over by the other valve tower.

After its departure I checked my images on the back of the camera and was content with the result. I had been here for two hours, walked two and a half miles and been soaked by rain and battered by wind but I was happy if a bit tired.  

My spontaneous excursion to Cheddar Reservoir had done the trick and I felt much the better for it. 

Now if only it would cease raining.

Siskins 24th January 2026

After yesterday's second trip to see the Killdeer in Hampshire I decided to revisit my local Farmoor Reservoir and sit in a favourite hide in the hope of encountering a Kingfisher.

For once it had stopped raining but a cold southeast wind made sure there was no complacency on my part and I ensured I was well insulated against the cold.It often requires a long wait until a Kingfisher arrives in front of the hide and slowly you find yourself becoming ever more chilled even though sheltered from the worst within the hide.

Not unexpectedly I had the hide to myself and I  took up position on a cold bench of unforgiving hardness and looked out onto a familiar view.Well I say familiar but with all the recent rain and with the adjacent River Thames only metres away in full spate, what was normally a relatively small area of water had now become a veritable lake.

Oh well, this would not affect the Kingfisher so I settled into my vigil.

The bird feeder hanging from its usual Alder and now isolated by surrounding water, was doing good business with a succession of Great and Blue Tits visiting but again there were no Reed Buntings which have been noticeable by their absence so far this winter.

Mallard and Teal  were making the most of the extensive flood, the Teal in particular already getting into courtship mode with a gathering of half a dozen excited displaying males, bowing heads and upraising tails around a couple of females, the male's distinctive whistling, cricket like calls ringing out across the shallow water they were swimming in. A Moorhen's abrupt frog like croak came from the reeds and once only I heard the grating squeal  of a Water Rail  emanating from the impenetrable fastness of a stand of dead reeds.

Fairly early on I saw a Kingfisher but instead of coming to fish from the post in front of the hide it perched high in a tree at the far end of the flood. Electric blue, it shone like a jewel in the winter bare branches and then flew off. I was philosophical. At least I now knew a Kingfisher was around. Sometimes you can sit here for hours and never see one. This brief sighting had granted a glimmer of hope and cause for mild optimism.

I sat in silence, mentally freewheeling as I thought about many things but if you asked me afterwards what those thoughts were I could not tell you. It's very strange, almost an involuntary amnesia.

With comparatively little to see one becomes attuned to the various bird calls emanating from outside the hide. Often the high pitched whistle of a Kingfisher is the first indication of its pending arrival but not today. Instead I became aware of a rapid, constant twittering and trilling from high in the Alders to the left of the hide.The volume of sound signifiying the presence of many birds.

I knew this sound for what it was, a roaming flock of Siskins that had arrived in the Alders to feed on the cones and leaving the hide I went to the nearby trees and looking up could see many tiny bodies silhouetted against the sky, nimbly moving amongst the branches and twigs. I estimated there were about forty to fifty, a good sized flock, the tiny finches acrobatically hanging from the thinnest of twigs to get at the cones and extract the seeds. These birds do not breed locally but many Siskins come to Britain from northern and eastern Europe, forming flocks which roam the countryside, never remaining in one place for long.

Constantly active the birds moved further into the trees and closer to the hide and so I returned to the hide in the hope I could see them from there  Maybe even get to photograph them if I was lucky.

The twittering ceased. Silence.The flock had moved on.

Another thirty minutes elapsed and then the twittering commenced once more from the same Alders. Another flock of Siskins or was it the same flock as before? It was impossible to tell.

Adjacent to the left of the hide the flood water had penetrated into the willows and an area of bramble. Earlier I had noticed Blue Tits coming down to drink here, using the bramble and trees as cover to sip some water before flying back up into the trees where they felt more secure. A Siskin also put in a brief appearance amongst the mesh of willow stems but was always frustratingly partially obscured and soon departed.

Siskin Corner as viewed from the Hide

Then another small bird flew to perch on a thin branch just above the water. Another Blue Tit? But no it was a female Siskin which perched in the open, ultra cautious and circumspect, checking all was safe before descending to drink. For a species such as a Siskin that spends virtually its entire life in the tops of trees descending to the ground is fraught with danger but descend it must if it wishes to drink so the act needs to be acccomplished as rapidly as possible once it is convinced it is safe to do so

Looking at the female as she seemed to hesitate forever there was little sign of the bright yellows that adorn  parts of the male's plumage, just a shadow of pale lemon on the sides of her face and on two prominent wing bars.Overall she looked grey and non descript and was very much in concord with the willow branches she had chosen to perch on. I found myself thinking if only a male were to present me with such a photo opportunity as this.

Female Siskin

Birds follow one another's actions and as she perched low on her branch a flash of green and bright yellow took me by surprise and there right before me on a bramble spray perched a male Siskin, small and dapper, his canary yellow breast almost fluorescing in the winter sunlight. My wish had been granted. 

Male Siskin

Adult male Siskins are extremely attractive.Their plumage replicates the colour of the sun shining through the pine needles and branches of the mainly coniferous trees they inhabit, rendering them well camouflaged. This bright male was joined by another, but less intensely coloured and maybe younger, the two perched on the bramble still uncertain whether to commit to dropping down to the water's edge. I dared not move but pointed the camera from within the hide and hoped.The two birds remained on their perch and then one about turned to reveal a bright yellow rump, yellow flashes on each side of its tail and two yellow wing bars complemented by a moss green back and a natty black skull cap. Exquisite is a much overused adjective and don't get me started on that birders favourite word 'stunning' but I  can think of no better word than exquisite to describe its intricate beauty

All thoughts of Kingfishers were forgotten as I made the most of this unexpected opportunity. I have never been this close to Siskins before and like so many times when enjoying the natural world it was sheer chance that presented me with this delight.

The Siskins were only present for five to ten minutes at the most before they silently flew up into the trees and the Alders fell silent as the flock flew off to find another feeding opportunity.I remained another half an hour in the hope they or others might return but I knew in my heart they had gone for good.

Now with no extraneous diversion the chill in my bones asserted itself with a vengeance.

Two hours and my body told me I was time expired and so I departed the hide.

The Kingfisher would have to be for another day.