Black Audi Birding

Sunday, 8 February 2026

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 individual 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 other 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 boot 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 into the wave troughs.

Eventually it seemed to tire of the effort of swimming in the rough water and with an ungainly short run up 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.

Sunday, 25 January 2026

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 hung 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 grey 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 mirrors 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, 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 delicate 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 I departed the hide.

The Kingfisher would have to be for another day.

A Killdeer in Hampshire 22nd January 2026

There have been 61 records of a Killdeer in Great Britain so it is considered a mega in twitcher parlance especially when found inland and in the knowledge they have latterly become ever more scarcer in Britain. It is a small and common North American wader superficially similar to our Ringed Plover although more slender in build with a noticeably longer tail, bright rufous rump and two black bands across its chest rather than one.

The report of this latest Killdeer first came on Wednesday the 21st of January when an astonished birder found it at Ripley Farm Reservoir in Hampshire. News was put out on Birdguides and Adam a fellow Oxonbirder sent me a text advising he was minded to go for it on Thursday as he had never seen one and enquired whether I would care to join him.

I did not need to be asked twice as I have only seen one Killdeer in Britain before which coincidentally was also in winter but on Shetland in 2017 see here so it would be great to see another and much closer to home, requiring far less effort and expense. Peter who forms the third member of our casual twitching WhatsApp Group was also going to join us as he too had never seen a Killdeer in this country although Peter and myself have seen quite a few in North America.

Looking at images appearing on social media it looked like the bird was always going to be distant so there was no likelihood of getting a decent photo and also the weather forecast for the coming few days was predicting continuous rain so I abandoned any thoughts of carrying the camera and opted for scope and bins only.

Due to Adam having some private business to attend to the next morning we planned to leave Oxford in the late morning at around 1130, assuming the plover was reported earlier in the morning which it was. We met in a convenient free car park near the A34 which we would take south towards Hampshire.The weather as predicted was far from benign with virtually constant rain as Adam drove us for an hour and a half, the final part of our journey being along twisting narrow lanes until we came to the tiny hamlet of Ripley deep in the Hampshire countryside.and the laybys mentioned by Birdguides as the best place to park but with warnings of limited space. We were therefore surprised to find plenty of room in the first layby we came to. I for one had assumed that this would be a very popular and well attended twitch, as the Killdeer was a very rare bird, relatively accessible in the most populated southern third of the country and had been found at a quiet time of the year with regard to rare birds.Surely everybody would want to see it?

We parked the car with ease and getting our boots and wet weather gear on headed for a nearby metal gate which we walked around and then crossed a narrow footbridge spanning a small river, which may have been a stream before all the rain, and finally walked down a long straight track with a pig farm on one side and the reservoir, in reality more a large lake in a field than a concrete encased waterbody, on the other.

Ripley Farm Reservoir

Walking to the end of the track we came to a very muddy open area with around thirty birders scoping the far bank of the reservoir.

There was no shortage of help or advice as to the plover's location and we were guided onto where it was hunkered down on a fold of turf on the far shore within minutes

It was just about visible in the gloomy conditions, facing away from us allowing a limited view of the back of its head and upperbody.It hardly moved for twenty minutes and looked thoroughly miserable as it occasionally bobbed its head in that way that plovers do.

A fellow birder almost overwhelmed by his waterproof hood peered out at me and told me it had been like this for almost an hour. Hardly moving.

The rain was by now falling steadily, insiduously attempting to penetrate my waterproof clothing.I was outwardly soaked although well protected but it was far from pleasant. The rain seemed to get everywhere despite my making as much effort as possible to keep my optics dry.

Then a birder standing behind me almost casually remarked

There's an eagle behind us

I turned away from the plover to look where he pointed over the pig farm to the trees beyond and there in the grey sky huge and unmistakeable was an eagle cruising towards us.

Another birder quite un-necessarily immediately bellowed

Eagle!!! at the top of his voice as if we were not already aware of its awesome presence

It was an immature White tailed Eagle, undoubtedly from the release programme on the Isle of Wight which was not that far away as an eagle flies. The huge bird cruised around for a minute or two at no great height gradually turning southwestwards and was finally lost to view behind the trees

I turned back to the Killdeer

The misery of standing exposed to the worst of our winter weather was finally alleviated as the plover sprang into action.

Maybe 'sprang' is over optimistic. It moved ever so slightly, turning sideways to expose its full body length, its black double breast bands and white underparts.

Ever so slowly it stretched a wing revealing a long white wing bar and exposing a bright sandy orange rump.Nice, very nice indeed.

Image of the one I saw on Shetland showing the rump and
wing bar to good effect

Then it began to move with more purpose, pattering along the grass then stooping to pick something from the ground in its ploverly way.. A couple of rapid runs took it some way along its favoured strip of grass before it stopped and indulged in that other plover trait of head bobbing and so it went on, the bird not really moving too far in the process and always remaining on the favoured grass strip

For around forty five minutes we enjoyed watching the bird and then seemed to arrive at a concensus that we were wet enough, had seen enough of the plover and now was a good time to leave. It was obvious the bird was going to remain forever distant and was unlikely to do anything much else than what we had observed a number of times already.

Back in the car I sat in a rain sodden lump, relieved to be out of the rain.We made a stop for some welcome tea, coffee and food in a nearby village before heading for Holbury, not too far away and where lurked the celebrated, long staying and mildly controversial Great tailed Grackle, another North American avian immigrant, in its favourite garden at Southmoor Avenue. Peter had not seen this species either here or in America so a lifer was in prospect.Who was I to dissent, although having been to see the grackle twice already.

Parking outside its favourite house it took all of seconds to locate the grackle perched on top of a pole. Sadly the gloomy overcast conditions did no favours to its usually magnificent iridescent plumage but at least Peter had his lifer.

The grackle in better weather on a previous occasion

The grackle flew to various high perches around us before it finally transferred to a telegraph pole across the road where it preened its bedraggled feathers and resisted our attempts to lure it to the ground with some of Adam's flapjack bar.

Triumphant! The Hand of God is pointing to the grackle on its telegraph pole
L-R Yours truly, Peter and Adam aka Gnome

We gave it ten minutes but the grackle did not budge so we did and headed for home.

Postscript

Mark, another birding colleague who had never seen a Killdeer wanted to go and see it so I went with him the next day and he got his lifer. Otherwise nothing much had changed although we did see an adult Little Gull.