We Stalk the Stork 4th August 2025

As mentioned in my previous blog about our twitch to Walberswick to see a Zitting Cisticola a Black Stork was but thirty minutes drive away and both myself and Mark(P) decided it was an absolute must to go and see. For Mark it would be a lifer and a British tick and for me only the second I have seen in Britain.The first was ten years ago at Spurn see here in August 2015.

Already enthused by our success with the Zitting Cisticola we headed for Boyton Marshes in high spirits, where the Black Stork, a juvenile, had been discovered in a large waterfilled dyke on the 22nd of July and where it had remained ever since.

Even more enticing was the fact it was ridiculously approachable, granting views down to only a  few metres and totally untroubled by a regular procession of admirers come to pay homage. Black Storks have been recorded in Britain 295 times before but often prove elusive, very mobile and hard to pin down, so this one apparently ensconced in a dyke and unwilling to move anywhere else was a very attractive proposition.

Black Storks breed in scattered locations across Europe predominantly in Portugal and Spain but also in Estonia in the north to Poland, Germany, The Czech Republic, Hungary, Italy and Greece in the south.They are a long distance migrant spending the winter in sub Saharan Africa, most birds migrating from Europe to Africa via The Straits of Gibralter which is the shortest sea crossing.

Birdguide's directions took you to the RSPB's Boyton Marshes where you parked your car and then commenced a two mile walk along the sea wall to view the favoured dyke. Yet another long walk was far from enticing after our mile walk out on shingle and sand to the cisticola but thankfully Adrian, another of my twitching pals, knew of a shorter unofficial route whereby we could drive much closer to the location and only have to make a quarter mile walk out to the dyke and sea wall.

Looking back from the seawall across the fields to where we parked the car in the trees.The dyke is in the centre of the image

After a stop for a coffee to keep body and soul together we set Adrian's directions into the satnav and followed a tortuous and winding course through some of Suffolk's rural lanes which grew ever narrower, leafy and more isolated until we came at last to a dead end. We could go no further but were able to park the car without obstructing a gate which barred vehicles but allowed pedestrian access to a footpath, leading out and across a vast field of stubble to the dyke which lay below the distant sea wall.

The weather had changed and the predicted increase in wind speed was becoming all too apparent as, following the path we passed a wood of poplars, the combined rustling of the leaves sounding just like waves beating on a seashore and then traversed a prairie like acreage of fallow land.The sun had long gone to be replaced by light cloud but thankfully the wind had not brought any rain.

We were none too sure if we were in fact in the right place but we could see a distant birder silhouetted on the sea wall and looking down into what we presumed was the dyke. As we got closer it was obvious he was looking at something which we hoped was the Black Stork.

We crossed a small bridge that spanned the water filled dyke and I looked to my left along the dyke's bank and laid eyes on what looked like a brown lump amongst the massed pale stalks of dead reeds and grass at the water's edge

What's that? I exclaimed

That's it  replied Mark 

It appeared to be asleep

It was as easy and simple as that. There, to much relief was the stork, hunkered down in the lee of the bank out of the wind. Much obscured amongst dead reed stems and rank bankside grass, its dark brown feathers appeared as an indeterminate shapeless mass but checking though my bins I made out its head, huge bill and bulging breast. After our very recent experience of the tiny cisticola, the sheer size and bulk of the stork took me unawares, having forgotten just how big storks are.

Mark went up onto the seawall and began chatting to the other birder but I walked along the bank of the dyke, opposite to the stork and stood back from the edge waiting for the stork to wake up.Its current position was no use for any photos as it was partially obscured by the vegetation.

Further along from the stork the vegetation ceased and there was open water.If the stork moved that way I would get to see it unobscured and only metres away. For once my luck was in, as after a few minutes the stork became active, walking slowly and ponderously under the far bank towards the open water, probing the water and vegetation for prey. 

It was in no hurry and it seemed to take forever but I could see it would imminently clear the vegetation and be in open water with just the dyke's bank for background

And so it came to be and the stork was fully revealed as it waded through the shallow water of the dyke looking for food. 

I made the most of this opportunity while it was thus exposed, clicking away with the camera and just enjoyed being so close to this seemingly unconcerned huge and rare bird.

Eventually it stopped, stood for a while, then turned and took strides back the way it had come and once more walked into the vegetation it had recently left. 

For the ten minutes it was in open water I really could not have asked for more.

Adult Black Storks are black above and white below with a red bill and pink legs but this was a juvenile and the plumage was not so colourful being a matt dark brown above and white below, its bill pale olive with an orange base. There were even vestiges of down clinging to the feathers of its mantle so it must be very young.

I rejoined Mark on the seawall and we walked to come level with the stork but it had moved to the nearer bank and was out of sight.Other birders who had the misfortune to make the long trek out from the RSPB car park joined us and eventually it wandered into view for a brief period before becoming invisible once more under the near bank

It was windy and exposed up on top of the seawall as the wind had now reached its predicted increase in strength. There were never more than three or four other birders with us possibly due to the long walk required to get here. 

The Seawall.The dyke on the left and saltmarsh on the right

Mark decided he had seen as much as he wanted of the stork and set off for the car to hear the closing overs of the England v India Test Match  - but I was here for one thing only. The Black Stork. The views from the seawall were to my mind unsatisfactory so I left the three other birders standing with me and walked back to the bridge over the dyke, crossed it and made my way along the edge of a vast field on the other side of the dyke to bring me level with the stork.

The edge of the stubble field and dyke

The vast field of stubble

From here I had an unobstructed view across the water and soon located the stork, immobile and hunkered down in yet more dead aquatic vegetation. It was hunched in repose, its long bill snuggled down into its breast feathers, a picture of contentment.

Its behaviour throughout was of short periods of casual feeding followed by much longer ones of inactivity, so much so that there had been speculation that the apparently lethargic bird was unwell but the fact it is still alive and showing no ill effects as I write this seventeen days later, confirms this is not so. It is just a very large bird, the supply of food in the dyke must be more than adequate and as a consequence it has no need to rush about or behave in a frantic manner.

The other birders on the seawall, noticing I could obviously see the stork whereas they could not  walked round to join me.Two local ladies with their husbands, not really birders but interested enough to come and see the stork, its extended stay having made it something of a celebrity in these parts, also joined me. 

As often happens they started to ask questions about the stork, such as where it had come from, why had it ended up here and what would it do, which I tried to answer and gradually as the stork slumbered on the conversation broadened into much wider ranging topics and by the time I bid my farewells we were at the stage of handing out sweets.

Such encounters always leave a pleasant feeling of goodwill and natural relaxed conversation with total strangers is just as much an enjoyable part of twitching as is actually seeing the bird. 

As I left the rain commenced to fall lightly but did not look like it would stop as the sky was now a solid unsullied grey as I made my way back to Mark and joined him in the car, learning that England had lost the match by six runs

Never mind.

We had definitely won today and my depressing run of twitching ill fortune had finally come to an end.