A Good Start to my Birding Year in Oxfordshire 9th January 2023

Well Happy New Year everyone despite the continuing news that suggests it will be anything but.

While spending Christmas and New  Year in Scotland I kept an eye on my local bird news from Oxfordshire and was thrilled to learn that Steve Robey had found a Yellow browed Warbler on the 29th of December, frequenting a narrow line of straggling trees running alongside Donnington Bridge Road, not a mile from the city centre. 

As the days passed and reports came in daily of its continued presence it became clear the bird was intent on spending at least part of the winter there. There was little I could do until I returned south on the 4th of January but once home I planned to go and see it when I had the time. Still a great rarity in Oxfordshire, although this winter has been a particularly prolific one in the county, they are now, especially in autumn, a frequent visitor in northern parts of Britain where I have seen a good number, so I felt no great pressing need to go and see this one 

Anyway fate took a hand and it did not work out as planned. Inoculated to the eyeballs against covid and flu I was taken by surprise and floored by a common cold. In fact not so common a cold, as this was a particularly malignant variety that forced me to spend three days in bed feeling downright miserable and ill. The warbler was still being reported every day during my involuntary incarceration, sometimes on multiple occasions and it seemed the area it frequented was relatively limited, so seeing it would be reasonably straightforward once I felt well enough to make the effort. 

The days dragged past as I lay abed allowing the cold to run its course.Gradually I began to feel a little better although decidedly weak and finally I reached that point where I had to get out of the house, so armed with tissues, paracetemol and a variety of throat lozenges I made my bid for freedom. A little groggy and light headed I got in the car which had not moved since we came back from Scotland.

It was obvious where to go and I drove to Donnington Bridge Road, arriving just after the rush hour.I found a parking spot and walked a few hundred yards up the road towards the bridge and the line of trees. I was on my own which was hardly surprising as just about every other birder in Oxfordshire had by now seen the warbler. I walked along the span of trees bordering the road on the northside as this was, by popular assent, the side most favoured  by the warbler.

Donnington Bridge Road.The trees on the left,
the northside, were favoured most by the YBW

Donnington Bridge Road is a busy thoroughfare with almost constantly passing vehicles coming both ways and at first the trees looked devoid of birdlife. I stood, not sure how to proceed but as I did, above the noise of traffic, came the sound of a party of Long tailed Tits, calling to each other as they came through the trees like a troupe of acrobats, the birds inverted and upright, hanging and swinging from the thin twigs of the spindly trees, constantly moving forward. I could see nothing else with them but then a tiny form appeared, flicking through the branches and picking at the sleeves of green moss that clung to the slender tree trunks, and diving in and out of frills of bright green ivy that clustered on dead branches. The sight of a wing bar increased my pulse rate but the restless mite was a Goldcrest  which was joined by another, both following in the wake of the tits.

Goldcrests are lovely birds in their own right, forever active, never still for a moment in their relentless search for food.Their prey is so small, it must mean in the short hours of winter daylight they can never cease feeding, having to constantly replenish their energy with new victims just to keep alive. They came very close and I watched one picking at some moss but so infinitesimably small was the prey, it remained a mystery as to what it could be to my mortal eyes.

The flock disappeared and for the next half an hour I had only the occasional sighting of a Goldcrest. If it was the same as those before, I knew not.

Glancing further up the road I saw Phil (Legend) Barnett looking through his bins intently and upwards at a tangle of treetop twigs overhanging the path we stood on. He beckoned to me and it was obvious he was on to the warbler. I walked a few metres towards him and then  saw the Yellow browed myself, examining a variety of twigs and branches in very much the same manner as the Goldcrests, although its movements to my mind were even more erratic and rapid

It came towards me and passed just a yard or so above me following the line of trees.We followed and eventually lost sight of it 

Glad to have seen it I relaxed. Oxfordshire had another Yellow browed at nearby Farmoor Reservoir this autumn past which was nowhere near as easy to see but this one showed little concern about being out in the open and for the most part keeping its own company.

We stood around awaiting a second showing. It took a little time but then from the corner of my eye a tiny greyish white and green bird, too pale to be a Goldrest flew low and at speed across a gap in the trees and dropped down to the ground below the roadside banking and seemingly disappeared. Uncertain I said nothing but my suspicions were confirmed as Phil found the warbler literally at ground level feeding on a rotting tree stump and then in the dead leaves  that had accumulated at the bottom of the bank.

Here it really gave itself up and we watched as it fed on the ground whilst slowly moving away from us.My mind went back to a January nine years ago in Norfolk  when I saw a closely similar Hume's Warbler adopt exactly the same feeding strategy.

I noted this Yellow browed was one of those individuals that show an indistinct pale median stripe along the centre of the crown.Not all do.

Its plumage looked, from my subsequent photos, to be fresh and the tip of each tail feather showed a minute point.This would suggest it is a first winter bird now in its second calendar year having been born somewhere in Siberia last year. Just think about what a phenomenal journey it has made. 

Distracted by yet another curious passerby we lost track of it and a long vigil ensued until it re-appeared. It showed little fear of us, examining in great detail the undersides of every ivy leaf and twig, occasionally moving right out to the tips of twigs overhanging the road. It spent time both at ground level and at the very tops of trees and when seen from below its pale underside almost gleamed in the wintry sunlight.

A heart stopping moment came when, approaching the end of the line of trees, it decided to fly across the road just as a van was passing. It was well on its way to oblivion until it stalled at the last second and abruptly returned to the trees. It was a very close thing and would have been a distressing end to an enjoyable morning. 

Finally it did cross the road safely and we left it at that.

 

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