My Blue Heaven - 29th July 2026

I am all too aware that folk like myself who go twitching rare birds are prone to exaggeration but I can honestly say that my latest escapade in the company of two like minded colleagues will probably never be bettered for all round enjoyment and satisfaction. It had everything as I will relate below.

Read on to join the thrills, spills, highs and lows and general craziness that we subjected ourselves to for three magical days.

Why did we do it? Look to the image at the top of this blog and surely you will find the answer. A Blue-cheeked Bee-eater,  the ultimate rare visitor to Britain, incomparable to any other  in its beauty, charisma and all round desirability.

Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters breed in North Africa and the Middle East from Turkey to Kazakhstan and India and migrate to winter in tropical Africa. There are two subspecies recognised: Merops persicus persicus that breeds in Asia and winters in East and Southern Africa and M.p.chrysocercus that breeds in North Africa and winters in West Africa.Where this latest vagrant to Britain has originated is unknown.

It all started on the 13th of July when a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater, only the thirteenth to be recorded in Britain and the first for Orkney was discovered at Chestrain  before moving to Houdsland, both locations being on Papa Westray one of the most northerly islands that comprise Orkney. It remained throughout the next day and the following day lingered until  late afternoon when it flew high to the north and disappeared.A check of its temporary roost site in some small willows that evening drew a blank.There was no sign.It had gone.

Its brief presence prompted a predictable and inevitable  flurry of activity as birders from all parts of Britain contemplated the ultimate challenge and gamble, the bravest and some suggest foolhardy making frantic arrangements to travel north to try and see it.You have to be quick off the mark as mostly these birds do not linger.

Papa Westray is not easy to get to. You can fly but for most of us that is too expensive. The other way involves taking a ferry from Gills Bay on the north coast of Caithness to St Margaret's Hope  on South Ronaldsay, Orkney.Then you  drive across part of South Ronaldsay to Kirkwall to make another crossing to Papa Westray or Papay as it is called by the locals.Due to the ferry timings to Papay, often the only viable way is for a group to charter a boat at great expense from Kirkwall to get you to Papay quickly or fly if there is space available on Loganair's tiny Islander aircraft.

My twitching pal Mark R did just that and chartered a boat that takes a maximum of twelve persons and I had a place promised on it but with ill timed luck my hip decided to become excruciatingly painful and rendered me almost immobile.There was no way I could drive for twelve hours to the far end of Scotland on my own as well as nursing a painful hip.I had to cry off and relinquish my place.

Mark and several others set off for Papay from their various homes and saw the bee-eater the next day as evidenced by Mark's superb photo showing it perched on telephone wires. 

c Mark R

Normally under such situations I am philosophical but missing this one hurt, it really did.I was almost inconsolable and comments such as

Don't worry there will be another 

were of no help or consolation whatsoever.

The pain of dipping the bee-eater slowly faded, aided by the sensational discovery of not one but two Long tailed Shrikes, the second and third for Britain no less, being found at Fife on mainland Scotland and on the Oxfordshire/Gloucestershire border a mere twenty minutes drive from my home see here. I went almost every day to pay homage to the shrike near my home and when an immature male  Montagu's Harrier was also found on the Oxfordshire Downs at Churn, the pain of not seeing the bee-eater was almost forgotten but not quite.

Then my equanimity was once more shaken to the core as news came through from Orkney that the bee eater was back, relocated but this time on Sanday, the third largest island in Orkney and another of the inhabited northern islands that comprise that part of Orkney.The bird had been found on the 28th of July at 0840, perched on wires by the fire station. 

My world went into free fall once more.My hip, now much better was no longer a hindrance but most of my birding colleagues had already seen the bee-eater on Papay. The  twelve hour drive to the very top of Scotland was too long to do on my own and I still had to navigate the complicated logistics of ferry timings and accommodation if I decided to go to Orkney.

I liased with Wayne Glossop who had hastily arranged a charter boat from Kikwall to Sanday for the next morning. It cost £1500 and could take twelve passengers which if fully taken up would make it viable moneywise. I could muster three; myself, my good friend Paul who lives in Norfolk and Clive who lives in Torquay and who Wayne had put in touch with me.

With only us three committed to the charter the cost was prohibitive. We needed more people but time was running out and there seemed little interest from other birders. Clive planned to drive to me and it would take him three and a half hours so he would need to know what the plan was as soon as possible. By mid morning there was still much to organise and we would need to leave for Caithness from my home in Oxfordshire at five pm at the latest.

Wayne told me four other birders had decided to go for the bee-eater but rely on the scheduled ferries to save the expense of the charter.This was unfortunate as their presence would have brought the individual cost of the charter down considerably.

In the end we too decided to commit ourselves to the scheduled ferries and I booked the three of us and my car onto the first sailing tomorrow of the Pentland car ferry from Gills Bay to St Margarets Hope on South Ronaldsay, Orkney. It left at 0930 and arrived at 1045.We then would need to drive for twenty minutes to Kirkwall where another smaller ferry sailed four times a day to Sanday.The obvious choice of ferry was the 1045 departure but we would never make it from St Margaret's Hope so had to opt for the next sailing at 1400 hrs which meant we would have to wait for three anxiety wracked hours in Kirkwall, worrying about the bee-eater and what it might do in those three hours, such as fly off..

There were yet further arrangements to be made such as accommodation on Sanday as we had decided to stay overnight in case the bee-eater was not present tomorrow when we got there. Thankfully Paul managed to find us beds for the night at Ayres Rock Camping and Hostel.

He also rang the Sanday Bus that would meet us from the ferry as we planned to leave the car in Kirkwall and come across as foot passengers.The bus driver, Geoff, had been the one to refind the bee-eater so knew exactly where to take us which was.a stroke of good fortune.

Exhausted  by the stress of making last minute arrangements, bookings and the wearisome toing and froing liasing with Paul and Clive, I collapsed into a chair mid afternoon and contemplated what lay in store

Here is the itinerary we would follow

28.07.2026

Clive would drive to me from Torquay to arrive at 5pm or thereabouts

Paul would take a train from Norwich to Northallerton in Yorkshire which would arrive there at 2100 hrs

We would make a four hour drive to Northallerton and collect Paul from the station

Then we would head north  to Gills Bay in Caithness to arrive at 7.30am the next day

29.07.2026

The ferry sailed at 0930 and arrived at St Margaret's Hope at 1045

We would then drive to Kirkwall and leave the car there

Wait three hours in Kirkwall and then take the 1400 hrs ferry to arrive at Sanday at 1605 hrs

Geoff and the Sanday Bus would meet us at the pier and take us to the bee eater site

What could possibly go wrong?

Needless to say there had been absolutely no word about the cause of all this emotional and physical turmoil since the first report of the bee-eater back in the early morning.

Doubts assailed my over active mind.

Was it still there?

Was anyone looking for it? 

Why were there no further updates?

Slumped in my chair I had time to reflect and the reality of what we were embarking on began to bite. We were taking a huge risk, one that I would normally not contemplate but the bee-eater drove me on, its iconic status in my twitching world and indeed with birders in general incentive enough. 

Paul called to advise he would be delayed as his train's air conditioning had failed and the train had been cancelled.He would be in Northallerton later than planned at 10pm

It was worth the huge gamble without doubt but a dark shadow lingered as the silence about the bee eater's continued presence on Sanday continued.

We all felt the same pessimism but stuck to the plan. All for one and one for all. Committed to try and see it we were not about to give up. It had to be done but it was a very long shot and the stakes were astronomically high. Pull this one off and we would be heroes, well in our own minds anyway but fail and have to drive back all those long weary miles would be sheer torture.

Clive and myself set off north at 6pm on a drive that was as trouble free as it could be on a busy M1 motorway and we paused at Tibshelf Services in Derbyshire for a coffee and break. We crossed to the A1 and all was well until as dusk began to fall, the all too familiar night time road closure loomed and we were diverted off the A1 to temporarily get lost but thanks to Clive's navigation and a tedious detour we soon got back on course.

As we approached Northallerton  Paul called again 

Where are you?

Ten minutes away.

By some miracle the train cancellation and our impromptu diversion had failed to confound our planned rendezvous

We collected Paul with little problem and after a stop to refuel both car and ourselves headed off across country, heading west as the satnav diverted us to avoid yet another closure on the A1 further north. This became memorable as the minor road we passed down was infested with rats, scuttling across the road in their droves, illuminated in my car's headlights.The Pied Piper of Hamlyn had nothing on this. 

We joined the A66 at Scotch Corner and crossed the Pennines east to west and turned north onto the M6 at Penrith  We made a brief stop at a rainy Cairn Lodge Services  south of Glasgow for Paul to take over the driving and we were soon away again on the long slog northwards up the A9 with mile after tedious mile receding behind us in the darkness of the Grampians, a presence sensed rather than seen,  then eventually in the fading night, descending into Inverness with only another 120 miles to go to Gills Bay.

Beyond Inverness the dawn was upon us and my spirit sunk to an all time low.My ancestral home lies  along the Cromarty Firth and the Black Isle which we were currently passing and I was consumed by waves of sadness and melancholy. So many memories, so many regrets, so much that had been forgotten unexpectedly resurrected by these familiar surroundings. I recall Bill Oddie recounting about his lonely childhood and a difficult parent resulting in him turning to birds as a solace and so it has been for me. It is still, after all these years a great sadness that so many opportunities were lost due to my difficult father and now it all came flooding back to surprise and almost overwhelm me.

I tried to shake it off but could only fall silent as memories I thought long consigned to oblivion sprung to life and clung to me like a shroud and I realised that the land we were passing through can no longer be described as a homeland, familiar and majestic as it undoubtedly is. 

It was a cold grey dawn which I am sure contributed to my downbeat mood and markedly colder than when we left Oxfordshire all those hours ago The warmth of the south was a distant memory and I changed into long trousers and warmer clothing when we made a loo stop in a still sleeping Brora,well into Sutherland.  

We drove on into the flat emptiness of Caithness, following the coast road when in fact we should have cut inland but no matter we were ahead of schedule and would have well over an hour's wait at Gills Bay. The sun rose, its golden glow cheering us as we followed a circuitous route into and around Wick and then onwards to Gills Bay.

Neither Paul nor Clive had ever been to Gills Bay before but I had.Several times.

What's it like they enquired.It sounds nice.

I put them right and advised it was neither the most scenic or welcoming of environments.

In fact it is dire, a bleak, functional concreted area where you wait for the ferry to arrive and remove you from its depressing surrounds as quickly as possible.

The other four birders were already here and we introduced ourselves and chatted about the currently unpromising prospects of seeing the bee-eater. Trying to re-assure one another in that way that birders consumed with anxiety do.It never really works but takes the pressure off temporarily.

Having got all this way, totally without foundation I felt a slight optimism but still there was no news of the bee-eater and we had a long way to go yet, in both time and distance before we would even get the opportunity to look for our holy grail.

The quartet of birders had also booked accommodation overnight on Sanday so we at least would have help looking for the bird if it wasn't to be found today.

Check in when it came was brief and uncomplicated and we drove onto the ferry, lorries first with the cars fitted around them and being crammed so close to one another it was difficult to get in or out of our vehicles. We proceeded up to the viewing deck and surveyed this wild part of Scotland bathed in sunshine and looking an absolute picture.It lifted my spirits no end but the bee eater hung like some malignant cloud at the back of my mind

And still there was no news of the bird. Surely someone would have checked on its continued presence and put the news out by now if it was there?

I consoled myself that no news was good news and at least there were no negative reports.Was anyone even looking for it. We had no idea.

To a cacophony of car alarms the ferry slowly slid from the concrete surrounds of Gills Bay and headed out into the Pentland Firth.Tired and sleepless after the all night drive I was not in the best of moods and as the ever present worry about the bee eaterincreased, tried to make the best of it by admiring the scenery..

Scotland did its best. The surrounding topography could not but inspire. Islands uninhabited  but still with the remains of former dwellings visible, now reduced to nothing more than stark ruins of roofless walls, communicated a sense of loneliness and abandon below vast skies and across endless sea.I tried to imagine the history that lay behind their forlorn presence and what kind of life the former occupants of these ruins had led.

Lighthouses, shining pristine white  in the sun stood  guard on distant points of land that were either green and flat or jutting headlands that stood in stoic defiance, their rocky bluntness stubbornly resisting the ceaseless pounding from a sea that today was blue and in places contrastingly turbulent and flat calm as mysterious currents created giant eddies and whirlpools.   

Kittiwakes were here in abundance and Fulmars put on their usual display of masterful flying, riding the contrary air currents on stiff, outspread wings with no apparent effort. Occasionally  a Great Skua, dark brown and exuding brutish menace  barreled its way past on broad,white flashed wings.Tiny Puffins with deckchair coloured bills, bounced on wind chopped waves but this was nothing to what they endure far out to sea in winter.

Gannets, white and huge became imaginary paper darts as they glided effortlessly over the waves,  crossing in front of the ship's bow.

Eventually we slowed on the approach to St Margaret's Hope. Leaving Paul and Clive I went to prepare to descend to the car deck as the other four birders did likewise on the opposite side of the ferry.

A minute later they called over to me in great excitement.Waving to attract my attention

Ewan! The bee-eater! It's still there!.

Thumbs up 

A message of confirmation had just come through on Birdguides  

Again on post near Riverside Cottage at Lady, Sanday. 1037

Immediately the whole world became a better and much different place.In an instant any negative thoughts were swept away and replaced by a surge of optimism..We were in with a chance after all but there was still an awful lot that could go wrong.The bird had been seen this morning at a village called Lady, by Geoff who drove the Sanday Bus but that was then and we had no way of getting to Sanday until four this afternoon. Anything could happen in the meantime.So near and yet still so far.

There was nothing we could do. The scheduled 1045  ferry to Sanday would be long gone by the time we got to Kirkwall. 

Paul and Clive joined me in  some excitement having  also heard the news about the bee-eater and we waited in the car to be directed off the ferry.It seemed to take an age but finally we were on our way to Kirkwall.

I cannot recall who suggested what in the car as we tried to control our excitement but I think I suggested to Paul that he call the charter boat number and ask if they were still available and if so how much would it be to take us one way to Sanday.It was a long shot but 'he who dares Rodders, he who dares' as Del boy would say. Paul called the number and got an answerphone.He left a message and Steve called back a few minutes later. I listened as Paul spoke to him and explained our plan and Steve said he could do it despite the short notice and gave a price of £800.00.For a moment my heart sank.It was way too much for three of us to contemplate even if it was a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater. Then came a moment of inspiration as we hurtled onwards to Kirkwall.

What about the other four? They are bound to want to join us as it will save them three to four hours waiting to get to Sanday. 

Seven into £800 is  around £115 each which is much more accceptable

Quick give them a call

I don't have any of their numbers

I can call Wayne said Clive

Wayne did not have their number

Paul then suggested.

They are on the same BCBE Whatsapp group as us so their numbers will be on that

We got Brendan's number and called him. He answered and we explained our plan

No problem. They were in and we arranged to meet at the Kirkwall quayside in ten minutes

At last we were getting somewhere.

The charter boat, the Northerly Venturer would take an hour to get to Sanday and could leave Kirkwall as soon as we arrived.We would be on Sanday at noon rather than four in the afternoon.

The other four birders had arranged for the lady who was providing their accommodation for the night to meet them from the Loth pier where our boat would dock.They invited  us to join them and not bother with the bus.

After a swift visit to the bank for cash to pay for the charter we went to find the Northerly Venturer

I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a modern fully equipped boat with comfortable seats, a toilet and a plentiful complementary supply of Tunnock's caramel wafers, Wagon Wheels and other assorted biscuits along with tea and coffee.

The Northerly Venturer -our charter boat

What a result

In no time we were seated with a brew, the boat's engines roared and away we went at high speed on the hour long crossing to Sanday.Literally leaving Kirkwall in our wake.

Kirkwall Quay

I relaxed into my seat and closed my eyes.We had not seen the bee-eater, that was true but I now felt we would.Do not ask me why but I just felt a wave of optimism sweep over me..I am not sure my companions felt the same though. We had done everything possible to achieve success and were within touching distance of the bird. It was no longer in our hands but now up to the birding gods.

Paul collected the money and paid Steve £800 in cash.

After the tea and a couple of Wagon Wheels I felt almost human as we docked at Loth pier and were met by both Geoff and the four birder's landlady. Geoff had no problem with letting us go with the others and we followed the lady to her transport.

I looked at a large white van with no windows and that clearly had seen better days and whose rear doors were open to reveal a jumble of straw bales, some pallets and a large wheel. 

Welcome to the Barnyard Shuttle! Geoff called to us. Without hesitation we all hopped into the back of the van and with the doors firmly shut, away we went to an appointment with destiny..The tension in the van was almost tangible as in ten minutes we would either be looking at a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater or not.

The van drew up in a small road at Lady Village, surrounded by open fields. cows and sheep, and with a small holding by the road. I looked through the windscreen of our van and could see a guddle of half a dozen birders at the side of the road looking out and over a field.

They are looking at something someone said

Without further hesitation I threw the back doors of the van open and raced round to join the birders on the road.

Is it showing? I exclaimed

No need to ask what

Yes came the reply and they pointed to a metal gate on which, perched in all its emerald green loveliness was a.......................... 

BLUE-CHEEKED BEE-EATER!!!!!

I was speechless as all the worriesome hours prior to this moment, the anxieties and endless speculation coalesced into catharsis and sheer unutterable joy.

We had done it.We really had. I was shaking. It was almost unbelievable. 

I dumped my camera bag and back pack on the grass verge and made the most of this moment with my camera.

There is nothing to beat this ecstacy of achievement, knowing the gamble has paid off and that from now on in it will be a celebration all the way. We were all buzzing with excitement. No more worries, no more concern. Winding down from that high wire of uncertainty we surrendered to feelings of euphoria and sheer unadulterated happiness.

We watched the bee-eater perching on the gate and then flying up to catch insects, sometimes returning to the gate and at other times perching on telephone lines and wire fences.The field we were looking over was full of cattle which undoubtedly attracted many flies and they in turn the bee-eater. 

We watched as it sailed over our heads chasing insects and  in between flights perched on twigs and vegetation.You could feel the excitement passing through all who were here to witness this event.I had the pleasure to meet Steve Dudley who has lived on Westray for the last five years and who I last saw when he organised the celebrated and legendary M.S. Oldenburg twitch to Lundy to see an Ancient Murrelet way back in May 1990 and also John Bell who I have got to know from my annual Shetland trips. Such reunions are just as much an integral part of the enjoyment of twitching. I asked John why no news had been put out earlier and he told me they had checked here in the morning and there was no sign of the bird but now here it was, much to everyone's relief.

There were no more than a dozen of us present to witness the bee-eater as it went about its business and with about one car an hour passing on the road we could all relax and concentrate on an extraordinarily beautiful bird, surviving in an environment far from its normal one.

The islanders too took a great interest in the presence of the bird and Geoff, the Sanday Bus driver made us laugh when he told us how previously the bee-eater had flown alongside his bus as he drove down the road and not being a birder he assumed the bird, being green must be a woodpecker. We forgave him.

 

In flight it was accomplished and elegant. Overall it is burnished green with a pale blue rump and forehead, eyebrow and cheeks, a black 'bandit' mask through the eye and a yellow chin and rufous throat.Its long bill is thin, black and slightly downcurved  From below the undersides of its wings are coloured brick orange and the central tail feathers are elongated into a distinct spike that extends well beyond the rest of the square ended tail.

The bee-eater came and went, both distant and close, calling regularly but never straying far from the fields with cows in them and was on view virtually constantly, perching quietly between its frequent feeding flights. As per usual I took far too many images in my excitement and Paul and myself bored each other with  insisting we look at each others particular image that took our fancy.

We had arrived at Lady at just after 1pm and it was now 3.30 pm.We asked Steve how far away was our accommodation and he reckoned two miles, and that we would have to walk as there was no taxi service on Sanday.Not an entirely pleasant prospect after our tiring journey to Orkney but if necessary we would do it.None of us had eaten much but luckily there was a shop at the end of the road where we could get some supplies for tonight.

I was loathe to leave the bee-eater as when if ever would I get such an opportunity again.

Fortunately as we pondered what to do, the ever obliging Geoff arrived along the road with his bus.We flagged him down and  asked if he would take us to our accommodation which he willingly agreed to despite it not being one of his official duties. We chanced our arm and asked if he would stop at the nearby shop first so we could purchase some supplies.Again he agreed provided we were quick as he had to meet the incoming ferry from Kirkwall.

Geoff with the Sanday Bus

Paul purchased a lasagne and a couple of bottles of red wine and I got some Orkney ice cream, cheese and rolls and two cans of Guiness zero.We were all set and off we went on the bus to Ayres Rock Hostel, driving back along the road we had just been watching the bee-eater from and believe it or not it again flew parallel alongside the bus just feet away. Maybe the bus disturbed insects for it to catch. 

Arriving at Ayres Rock Hostel we were met by Claire who showed us to our accommodation.

Clive got a room to himself which was probably for the best as he was suffering with a bad back.  

Paul and myself were shown to a two bed sleeping pod with a splendid view over the seashore.

Our Sleeping Pod

The view from the Sleeping Pod

We were still high on adrenalin and as it was only five o clock I asked Claire how long it would take to walk back to where the bee-eater was. I wanted more.

She thought it might be quite a long way but then spontaneously said Take my car it will be quicker

At first I could hardly believe this generous and entirely  unexpected act of kindness but soon learned this kind of gesture was standard practice for Sanday's residents towards visitors.

So off we went for more bee-eater communing and as before the bird put on a bravura performance for another hour amongst the many swallows that shared the airspace with it. We were checked out by a herd of inquisitive cows as a male Hen Harrier with a damaged left leg hanging down flew past us and over the farm buildings.

The cows moved off and the bee-eater followed them down to the seashore, someway distant from the road. We debated whether to follow but in the end decided not to.

We watched the bee-eater swooping around the sky above the cows as the evening sunlight illuminated its electric blue and green plumage.

Then it flew towards us, crossed the road and continued high into the distance and was gone.We followed by car in the same direction but we couldn't relocate it.

The time was 6.30 pm and it was never seen again.There were no reports of it the next day despite people looking and all those with plans to travel up on the weekend were going to be disappointed.

We drove back to Ayres Rock Hostel and settled in. On an almost windless evening we sat at a table outside after Paul put the lasagne in the microwave and opened a bottle of red. I had a Guiness zero and Clive produced a very nice bottle of Argentinian wine to share and celebrate the fact the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater was the 500th species he had seen in Britain. Life felt pretty good for us all at this precise moment.

The sea in front of us stretched away into a blue distance and the outlines of other distant islands were visible across the sea as the air became still.Oystercatchers and Redshanks bickered on the seashore and then fell silent.Tiredness finally caught up with me after the meal and I retired to our sleeping pod and fell asleep almost immediately.

It was done.

Postscript

2nd of August

The Blue-cheeked Bee-eater was reported again but on North Ronaldsay @ 1225 at a place called Burray. You can see the North Ron Observatory from Lady on Sanday, so the bee-eater has not travelled far and appears to be touring the northern isles of Orkney, North Ron being the third island it has visited so far.

 

 

Not Another One! - 19th July 2026

Sometimes circumstances combine to bring about a situation that is almost beyond belief and such a thing came about on Sunday the 19th of July along a country road near the idyllic village of Eastleach Martin in Gloucestershire and which is close to the Gloucestershire/Oxfordshire border.

And what was the event that was almost beyond belief you ask. Well, the presence of a Long tailed Shrike, only the third ever to have been recorded in Britain and the first for Gloucestershire and England was belatedly publicised after its presence for at least 11 days prior to today had been unknown except to a select few. Add to this the unprecedented situation that a different male Long tailed Shrike had already been seen at Crail in Fife only two weeks ago after a gap of 26 years from when the first was discovered also in Scotland see here and you can see how the bounds of credulity wer sorely tested

It was almost unbelievable.

News leaked out on Saturday and a few birders went to the location, Eastleach Downs to search for it but there was no sign of the bird and frustratingly it looked like it would be another one that had got away but some are more persistent than others and returned on Sunday morning, including Mike King of The Gloster Birder  https://theglosterbirder.co.uk fame. At first it seemed there would be a repeat of Saturday with no sign of the bird. An Oxon birding colleague present from 5-8am failed to find it but just after he left Mike King also giving up at 10am after a similar fruitless search suddenly had it flying past him just feet away.

This precipitated release of the startling news onto my local Oxon Bird News WhatsApp Group and shortly after the two national birding information lines, Birdguides and Rare Bird Alert followed with the news and that is how I and many others came to learn of the shrike's continued presence just before Sunday lunchtime. 

The next problem for me was that myself and Mrs U were scheduled to go to friends for a long standing lunch date just as the news broke. At first I contented myself with the fact that I had already seen the first for 26 years at Crail and no longer needed it for my British List but the fact this third individual was but a twenty minute car  drive from my home was testing my equanimity to the limit.Mrs U well used to such situations said I should go and provided I rang our friends and explained about the shrike  she was happy to go to the lunch on her own.I duly rang our friends and well aware of my obsession they wished me luck and told me not to worry.

Cue my leaving the house shortly after noon and making the welcome short drive to Eastleach.I knew exactly where to go as I used to drive through Eastleach on my way to work in nearby Fairford. .The shrike was in bushes along and near a narrow country road that under normal circumstance saw little human or vehicular traffic  and was where I used to go to run its rural two mile length and back during my lunchtime to alleviate the stresses and strains of running my company.

The road in 'normal' times

A road I should add that over the years, as I pounded the tarmac revealed a number of Quail, Short eared Owls and even a ringtail Hen Harrrier on separate occasions.Although long since retired from work I could not help but wonder that if I were still going for runs along the road, would I have been the first to encounter the shrike.

The road in question is  narrow and this is harvest time so the potential for conflict with the famer was high on the agenda unless some off road parking could be arranged. Step forward various Gloucester birders who spoke to Sam, the farmer and arranged for a field to be opened to allow cars to park safely and not block the road to passing farm machinery. A quarter mile walk from the field along the pleasant road brought you to where the shrike was frequenting the scattered hawthorn trees, bushes and brambles that followed the wayward passage of drystone walls protecting the fields from the road. In other words typical shrike habitat.

I arrived at the site at around 1pm and already there were a good number of local birders present, standing  on the narrow verge by the road and looking over a drystone wall to some hawthorns that followed the route of a bridleway that ran out between the fields and itself followed a drystone wall to meet another wall that ran at right angles and marked the boundary between Gloucestershire where everyone currently was and Oxfordshire.

Oxonbirders!

I drove further down the road parked my car in the designated field and getting my gear together walked back the quarter of a mile to an ever growing crowd of birders. 

On getting there an enquiry to a fellow birder put me onto the shrike almost immediately. It was perched high and fairly distantly but clearly visible in a large hawthorn some way into the field by the drystone wall.It remained here for some time as in typical shrike fashion it dropped to the ground every so often to seize an invertebrate and then returned to its vigil on high.

The shrike regularly moved from one hawthorn to another while slowly the number of birders increased as the initial and  predominantly local Oxon and Glos birders ranks were swelled by others coming from more distant parts of Britain.At its peak there were well in excess of a hundred birders present with others leaving and arriving constantly throughout my four hours there.

Crowd scenes

The shrike moved closer to the road and eventually perched in a hawthorn right by the road which resulted in birders massing each side of it but remaining at a sensible distance. 

The shrike maintained its vigil unperturbed by its enthralled audience, everyone with cameras endeavouring to get a photo of this ultra rare visitor.

For about forty minutes the shrike remained in the hawthorn moving from one side to the other, mildly mobbed by young Whitethroats and on occasions chasing them through the tangled twigs of the tree.

By now it was approaching mid afternoon and the light for photography was too harsh and a strong heat haze was hardly conducive to a photographic masterpiece but everyone carried on regardless and as the afternoon wore on we followed the shrike as it moved from one favoured hawthorn to another.

As with all major twitches it also became something of a social occasion as old friends were greeted and new ones made. Personally I find this aspect almost as rewarding as seeing the bird. Its a communion with beings of a like mind. We all understand each other and there is no need to explain or feel self conscious about this obsessive and compulsive phenomenon of twitching that seizes us from time to time.  

Don't you write that blackaudi birding blog? 

Didn't I see you at the Western Reef Heron twitch? 

Are you going to Shetland this year?

How's your hip?

All examples of comments that prompted enjoyable conversations and interactions of various lengths and that are part and parcel of the twitching birding community I find myself part of and that Mark Cocker memorably described in his book Birders, Tales of a Tribe

So Wickster, John, Wreny and Vic, John P, Badger, Moth and Jane, Justin, Gnome, Cliff, Dave D, Richard, Graham, Adrian, Les, Julian, Mark P, Nick and Ann, Chris, Gary, Adam, Gareth and Paul, greetings one and all.

The shrike began to move away following the line of bushes and hawthorns toward the Oxfordshire border. I stood with Wreny and Vic on the Gloucester side, each of us willing it to carry on into Oxfordshire.Could we really get it on our Oxfordshire County List and in the process watch it become a first for Oxfordshire and one of the rarest birds ever to be recorded in the county?

We stood as slowly, ever so slowly the shrike graduated toward the county boundary, marked by a few bushes and the joining of two drystone walls. The distance and heat haze made it hard to ascertain exactly where the two counties met but finally to much relief and rejoicing it unequivocally crossed into Oxfordshire.

You may smile but these things are important to mild obsessives 

Adam, who in conjunction with Jason runs the Oxon Birding web site called to confirm it had indeed entered Oxfordshire.

Right then Adam.Put it on my county list please.!

Eventually I reached that point where I knew the time had come to make my way back to my car and head for home. I had formed a plan to come back tomorrow very early when the light would be more benign and hopefully get the images I wanted.

Despite the parking instructions there are always some who feel the polite requests do not apply to them and had parked along the road and surrounding roads endangering the good will with the farmer generated by the majority. For the most part everyone behaved impeccably  and co operated and a donation bucket on site raised £1200 for a conservation charity on just this one day

Monday 20th July

I returned the next morning at 5am to the road in Gloucestershire and was surprised to find about twenty birders already present but my plans for some nice images of the shrike were to be thwarted.The sun already up was shining directly into my eyes and the shrike was very distant and currently over the county boundary in Oxfordshire. Mark arrived to get the bird on his Oxfordshire list and after a short wait achieved his aim and we left. The farmer had put out notices at the end of the road requesting people to not drive down the road but follow a diversion that would bring them to the parking field

.Mark headed off to a dental appointment and I went home for some breakfast and then returned before the sun became too bright and the heat haze too intense,

This time I used my local knowledge and entered the bridleway from the Oxfordshire side and walked 300 metres to join half a dozen birders looking at the shrike perched in a large clump of  bramble.Looking further along the bridleway I could see many other birders stood on the other road in Gloucestershire.They would be unable to see the shrike from there.

The shrike would move position after long periods of immobility, following the drystone wall and line of bushes that marked the county boundary. 

The bridleway crossing the boundary between Oxfordshire (beyond the post) and Gloucestershire

It gave more than adequate views, for the great thing about shrikes is that they generally perch unmoving for long periods in the open which is a great help when attempting to get a photograph or just see it.

I watched and photographed the shrike along with many other fellow birders but it was always just that little bit too distant for me to get what I desired.I watched as it periodically moved along the bushes selecting  a suitable perch to watch for prey. A juvenile Yellowhammer followed it closely keeping a wary eye on its movements. 

A tap on my shoulder.I turned and there was Paul who I had not seen since we shared the joy of seeing Britain's second Bay breasted Warbler on Ramsey Island in September 2023 see here..We chatted and caught up on our respective news.It was good to see him. Less welcome was the behaviour of a minority who in selfish fashion proceeded to not listen to reason and stand in front of everyone else and obscure the shrike.

More and more people arrived to swell our ranks and the shrike unsurprisingly moved further away. Approaching 10am the light was harsh and the heat haze made photography impossible.The shrike moved even further and we were reduced to distant obscure views of it perched in the bushes.This was no good.I resolved to come back this evening when hopefully there would be less people about and the light would be good and the heat haze banished.

Walking back to our cars we encountered a Spotted Flycatcher by the road, perched on a fence post. Before Paul went home to Cambridge I suggested a coffee and a continuation of our catch up so we adjourned  to The Fox at Great Barrington to sit by the river in the sun for an hour. 

I spent the rest of the day messing about with odd jobs about the house and arranged with Sally who had not seen the shrike, to bring her along with me on my return to Eastleach Downs in the evening when the light would be softer and the crowds presumably less.

It was  a beautiful evening as I parked the car on an area of bare parched earth below some overhanging trees beside the road. We passed though the metal gate granting access to the bridleway and once more I surveyed the rolling amber coloured acres of farmland, now shorn of their ripened crops, harvested early due to the drought. The tall summer grasses that border the fields now withered and dessicated to a beige of which Marks and Spencer would be proud.Everything parched to a dull scorched dryness as the relentless sun brought no respite to day after day. 

We followed the gently downward sloping bridleway for 300 metres, the ground sunbaked to an overcooked hardness, cracked and uneven with small fissures that tripped you if unwary.We came upon two disappointingly populous groups of birders, each group surveying the lowest part of the bridleway from either side, the dip bisected by a  weak hedge line hiding crumbling drystone walls that signified the county boundary. I enquired about the shrike and was directed  to it perched prominently in the top of the hedge  Sally saw it too through her bins and then through my scope so the first of our aims had been accomplished. Now I needed to get some half decent images and for that I had to be much closer to the shrike but this was not possible out of consideration to the many other birders present. I would have to hope the shrike might come closer to us but would the presence of so many birders cause it to remain at a distance.The only course of action would be to wait and see. 

We watched as the shrike moved from hawthorn to hawthorn along the hedge line, always selecting a prominent perch  but showing little likelihood of coming anywhere remotely suitable to get my desired images. I was philosophical. After all if my mission failed here I was still able to enjoy being in a beautiful, isolated rural location on a peaceful summer's evening, What was not to enjoy? Maybe I was doomed to be unlucky.It was in the lap of the birding gods as to how the shrike would behave. It flew up  as it had done many times before and I expected it to fly further away as it had progressively done up to now, accompanied by a raggle taggle of smaller birds, mainly whitethroats that followed it around in mild anxiety.

To my surprise it flew towards us, coming much closer and perched perfectly in an isolated hawthorn sapling, swaying about and clinging to a tiny twig.

I cannot recall how many images I took but it was a lot. Everyone around me was doing exactly the same and birders from the other side of the hedge came rushing to join us. This was the moment for which everyone had been waiting and wishing for. Ten magical minutes passed as the shrike remained perched on its flimsy tree while we filled our camera's memory cards

Finally it quit its perch and flew back to the hedge and landed at some distance from us

Everyone appeared satisfied, we could hardly have failed after all and most took the shrike's departure as an appropriate time to do likewise. A nucleus of around twenty of us remained. It was now seven in the evening and that golden time was upon us when the air becomes still and the sun's harshness has turned to a benign golden balm that infuses and softens the contours of the surrounding countryside.

The shrike re-appeared, pitching onto a large clump of bramble from which a number of alarmed whitethroats fled. The shrike proceeded to fly up into the sky at random intervals, intercepting passing flies and bees.It would perch at the very top on a bramble spray looking about and then suddenly rise into the sky to intercept a passing insect, returning in a series of swooping glides to the top of the brambles. 

You had to be quick as it was all over in seconds but I managed by trial and error to capture some half decent images of the shrike in flight hunting its prey which appeared to be predominantly bees 

It repeated the process a number of times and was always successful, taking its prey back to the bramble clump to be consumed on a perch.

After about half an hour it ceased and I stood with one other birder examining our images of it in flight. Our images showed it was in obvious wing and tail moult.

It was approaching 8pm and I recognised this as a signal to leave. In the quiet of mid evening Sally and myself walked back along the bridleway to the car stopping to admire a Common Redstart that flew down onto the bridleway to seize an insect and then back up into the surrounding hedge

Tomorrow I will rest but I know I will go back as long as the shrike remains.

A mega rare bird such as this and almost on my doorstep demands nothing less,

.

Wednesday 22nd July

I did go back the next evening with Mark and after quite a wait the shrike showed very well for half an hour, spending virtually its entire time just over the border in Oxfordshire.We also had the pleasure of meeting Sam, the farmer and his family who joined us and chatted perfectly amicably and  Sam showed us video of the bird taken by a friend of his before its presence became public knowledge.He told us that the shrike had changed its habits since people came to twitch it and that prior to news of its presence it had spent its entire time working along the hawthorns and bushes bordering the road in Gloucestershire but since Sunday it had moved further into his fields and favoured the brambles and hawthorns along the bridleway towards and into Oxfordshire.

Walkng back to our car we found a male Whinchat and surprisingly a Reed Warbler amongst the many Common Whitethroats  that were frequenting the scrub by the drystone walls

For those who are interested the plant on which the shrike is perched is Sweet Fennel

 

Enough!

Thursday 23rd July

I had not planned to return to the shrike for the foreseeable future. It is still attracting a crowd of between twenty to thirty people throughout the day and I find the endless chatter and increasingly loud voices tiresome as people grow bored waiting for the shrike's next appearance in the bushes.

However this afternoon my good pal Clackers called asking if I was minded to go and see the shrike again. He had seen it in Gloucestershire as did I on Sunday last but was now keen to get it on his Oxfordshire County List. Clackers has had a rough time of it these last few years, catching covid which became long covid and has left him unable to walk any distance. On top of this his beloved wife Shirley passed away which left him bereft. 

I suggested that I could pick him up from his home at around 5.30pm and to save him having to make a longish walk from the car park field to where the shrike was, drop him at the commencement of the bridleway and he could walk the 200 metres to the shrike, right on the county boundary.This would give him the best opportunity to see the shrike in Oxfordshire.

I duly collected him from his home in Witney and dropped him off at the bridleway and then drove the car onwards to the farm field that had been designated for off road parking. I walked back to join him and we waited for the currently out of sight shrike to make an appearance, hopefully within the Oxfordshire boundary, marked by a drystone wall and an extensive clump of brambles 

We stood with twenty five or so other birders and eventually the shrike came out of the brambles and showed itself well along with a number of anxious whitethroats seemingly fascinated by its presence before it once again disappeared into the brambles. As it was in the brambles and beyond the drystone wall that marked the county boundary Clackers could legitimately claim it for his Oxfordshire List

Job done. 

We lingered to see if the shrike would put in another appearance which it duly did after a short while, popping out at the very top of the brambles with what has been suggested to be a Dormouse hanging from its bill.

It then flew towards us and  into the depths of a hawthorn by the bridleway where, partially hidden it held its dead prey on a thin branch with its foot  and tore the unfortunate creature to pieces, swallowing every last part of its victim including the tail. It was devoured in less than five minutes.

Hoping the shrike might fly even nearer, to a post in the middle of the bridleway, we were confounded as it flew back to the sanctuary of the bramble clump and disappeared into its dark depths.

A subsequent longish wait had us almost on the point of leaving when it re-appeared and perched in the open, preening and, if birds indulge in such a thing, enjoying the evenimg sunshine.

It looked a picture against the dark green leaves and slowly ripening berries of the blackberry clump and this felt an appropriate time to bid au revoir to the shrike that has entertained so many of us for the past week.

Fancy a cider to celebrate Clackers?

Why not dear boy.Why not

And so we left, stopping at The Fox in nearby Great Barrington to bring a rewarding late afternoon of birding to a very pleasant and agreeable conclusion.

I have a feeling this might not be the end of the story though................................