Four Hours at Slimbridge 28th October

At a loose end on Monday I decided on a visit to Slimbridge WWT (Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust) which is situated an hour's drive west of my home, by the River Severn in the neighbouring county of Gloucestershire. I get a daily update on my phone from the admirable The Gloster Birder website - http://the glosterbirder.co.uk - which includes daily sightings from Slimbridge.

For the past few days a Temminck's Stint and several Bitterns have featured prominently  in the updates, the former being seen from the small hide overlooking the Rushy Pen near to the Trust's reception centre and  the latter, which are annual winter visitors to Slimbridge from the Van de Bovenkamp hide at the other end of the Trust's grounds.

With hopes of encountering both I set off, not too early on a pleasant but windy morning.The drive at this time of  year over the top of The Cotswolds is always something to look forward to as I pass along rural roads cloistered by trees be-decked in yellow and orange autumnal colour and beyond them lie wide vistas of gentle contoured land undulating into the distance.

My reverie came to an abrupt halt as I waited in a long line of traffic  to pass through the huge £460 million roadworks at the Air Balloon junction near the M5 that will continue until 2027. The brutal gouging of the land required to remove a notorious bottleneck is I suppose necessary but one does ask when if ever will it stop, this subverting of nature in the name of so called economic progress. 

HS2 anyone?

The grounds at Slimbridge were busy for a Monday and then I realised it was  half term so lots of parents had brought their offspring for a day out but most  head for the main play areas whilst we birders head for the hides and it seems to work without undue irritation. After all the children are the future and any connection with nature however contrived is to be welcomed so no complaints from me.

I made my way to the Rushy Hide and was surprised to find it full when I entered, presumably its popularity due to it currently being the place to encounter the rare Temminck's Stint.I stood at the back for a while until someone left and a space opened up for me by a viewing window.I looked out but it was obvious on checking the scrapes that the stint was not here and eventually a volunteer warden came and advised it had been seen to fly off earlier that morning and so far had not returned.

Cue a rapid emptying of the hide leaving me and a few others wondering whether to stay or go elsewhere.

To be honest I was not expecting this turn of events, assuming wrongly that the stint would definitely be here just as it had been for all the other days prior to this. Pondering my situation I recalled that a few years ago from this very hide there was a White rumped Sandpiper that did the self same thing and disappeared in the morning only to return later in the day see here. That time I wandered off to photograph ducks and cranes and any other birds the Trust could offer and returned to the Rushy Hide in the afternoon to find the sandpiper had come back. Birds are creatures of habit and I felt in my bones that there was a good chance the stint would do likewise as it obviously preferred to feed on the Rushy Pen above all other places. 

So what to do in the meantime? It was obvious. I would make my way to the Van de Bovenkamp Hide and chance my luck with the Bitterns of which up to three had been reported from there.

One would do!

It is a fair walk to the hide through the grounds but I eventually took a seat in the sparsely populated hide and looked out to a view of fields, flashes of water and extensive reedbeds but not a lot else apart from some Shovelers feeding in the nearest stretch of water and a host of Canada Geese and three Common Cranes beyond.  Enquiring of a fellow birder about the Bitterns I was told they could randomly appear in the various banks of reeds opposite the hide but none had been on view so far.

Maybe it was too windy? I settled on a none too comfortable. hard wooden bench and prepared for a long vigil. Bitterns being what they are spend most of their time secreted in reed beds but occasionally will reveal themselves either by flying from one reedbed to another or raising their neck, akin to a periscope, out of the reeds to scan the land about them.

Thirty minutes later it was not looking good and with the wind becoming increasingly irksome, blowing cold and directly into my face through the open viewing slats, my spirits were sinking fast. Then in a reedbed off to my right where there had been only tasselled  feathery reed heads blowing in the wind, a tawny, dark striped  neck stood  proud and erect amongst them, surmounted by a narrow dagger billed head held at forty five degress. A Bittern.

Its pale tawny colouring made it obvious against the darker green of the reeds and, as Bitterns do it just stood there with neck extended vertically as far as it could go.Bitterns never do anything in a hurry and it stood like a statue for minutes, the only movement an occasional turning of its head either to left or right.What goes through that tiny brain  is anyone's guess but I suspect its innately cautious personality persuades it that everything must be checked to the utmost before making any move into the open.

Finally after yet more studied immobility, it rose clumsily from the reeds and flew low past the hide giving me a heaven sent chance to capture it in flight. 

Bulky, cryptically coloured and patterned, buff, black and brown. the shades of dead reeds, it flew past at no great distance and dropped behind a bank of reeds to the left of the hide where it remained invisible. An  image of broad chequered wings and huge, bunched yellow feet were all I registered at this precise moment. The rest I could savour by looking at my photos. I  prayed that they would come out satisfactorily.

This sudden and unexpected stroke of good fortune changed my mood in an instant and the cold wind and hard bench no longer intruded as a feeling of deep content settled within me. I hoped the Bittern or maybe another would come back into view but after twenty minutes it suddenly rose from its hiding place in the reeds and too fast for my camera, flew further west and out of view. Another twenty minutes elapsed  and it flew back but continued flying well past the hide until it reached a distant reed bed and dropped into it, again rendering itself invisible.

With one part of my mission so thrillingly successful I decided to head back to the Rushy Hide to see if by any chance the Temminck's Stint had returned. The hide as before was full but I soon got a place by a viewing window and looked out onto the familiar scrapes and shallow pools.There was no obvious sign of the stint and I got the feeling that everyone was waiting and hoping just like myself

But were we deluding ourselves?

I decided to give it an hour which would take me to 2pm

Ten minutes slowly passed by and then the tiny bird was spotted flying onto a distant scrape, landing amongst some resting Lapwings. You could feel everyone in the hide become animated and almost touch the surge of energy that ran through all of us.

The stint fed non stop amongst the Lapwings, which totally dwarfed it, scuttling back and fore around the bigger birds, forever restless, picking at the wet mud in search of microscopic prey.It was currently far too distant for photos but I knew it had been seen and photographed much closer to the hide on previous days.  I hoped it would slowly work its way closer and my hopes were realised as it came progressively nearer and nearer to the hide.

It took a while but after forty minutes it had gravitated much closer as it continued to feed energetically, never stopping for a moment.

Finally it flew to the margin of water and grass bank below the hide and I really could not ask for more and took far too many photos while people unfamiliar with a Temminck's Stint but curious, came and went in the hide and were shown the stint  through a volunteer's telescope.

Temminck's Stints are very small indeed and in any plumage are, let's face it unremarkable, being plain and dull even drab.One of their main distinguishing features are their olive yellow legs. Their head and upperparts are dull greyish brown with an obvious grey breast band across their white underparts making them look superficially like a miniature Common Sandpiper and at times it was hard to discern its dull plumage against the grey water and mud on which it was feeding.   

They are a scarce passage migrant in Britain during Spring and Autumn. The majority breed in Arctic Russia and Siberia and also in the taiga zone of Arctic northern Europe and have occasionally but not annually bred in northern Scotland.The last suspected breeding record there being in 2007. 

They migrate to winter around The Mediterranean and southwards to Nigeria and Kenya in tropical Africa and show a marked preference for freshwater or brackish habitats such as  mudflats, marshes, reservoirs, gravel pits and flooded areas and on migration are usually encountered singly or in pairs.

For a while the stint flew off to the far side of the Rushy Pen and while it fed there I made the most of an opportunity to photograph some Common Snipe that were close to the hide, one in particular feeding literally feet below me on the bank, probing the soft ground with its extraordinarily long and sensitive bill, which it would bury to the hilt in the ground and then wiggle its head. using the ultra sensitive nerves at the bill's tip to sense any prey in the ground. Judging by the number of times it swallowed something it was meeting with much success. 

I  confess to having a bit of a thing for snipe.Their plumage is a marvel of vermiculations, bars, spots and stripes in all shades of buff and brown, a result of evolution to provide and protect the bird with camouflage from its enemies. Combine this with its distinctly non aesthetic outline of long bill, short tail and legs giving it a slightly unbalanced look but not without latent charm, and of course everyone loves an oddball do they not? Again though, the short sturdy legs have evolved  to brace it as it thrusts that ridiculously long bill deep into the soft earth to feed. Nothing in nature is by accident.

Slimbridge is one of the few places I know of where you can regularly see Common Snipe feeding in the open and going about their lives untroubled whereas normally they are furtive and secretive, concealing themselves deep in marshy recesses or stands of reeds.They are also pleasingly sociable often seeking the company of others of their kind.

The Temminck's Stint returned from its distant foray and I took some more photos and then it was chased by a Rook, the two birds hurtling at high speed low over the water until the chase ended and the stint appeared to have fled.

After a slow and unpropitious start to my Slimbridge visit the day could only be deemed a success. News of an elusive Yellow browed Warbler nearby felt a step too far, having seen plenty on my recent trip to Shetland, so instead I headed for home, happy and more than satisfied with my four hours at Slimbridge WWT.

Two Twites at Farmoor Reservoir 23rd October 2025

The last record of Twite from my local Farmoor Reservoir was of a single bird on November 5th 2011.It is a rare passage migrant there with only seven records in total and I have never seen one there or in Oxfordshire.

Twite are mainly associated  with the coastal fringes and higher ground of the north of England and extending to the extreme north of Scotland.They are declining as a breeding species in Britain and are now Red Listed. Migrants arrive from other parts of Europe to spend the winter here and substantial flocks can still be encountered in Morecambe Bay, on The Humber and The Wash although these are declining too.

Settling down in the afternoon of Thursday the 23rd with a cup of tea, a post came on the Oxon Bird Forum informing me that two Twite had been discovered by Jeremy D at the reservoir that very afternoon.

I groaned, for tiredness had caught up with me with a vengeance following my marathon trip to north east Scotland and Yorkshire to see two very rare birds (see the previous two posts on this blog).

For a moment I wavered. I had after all just returned from three weeks on Shetland where I had seen hundreds of Twite but this was different.These were in Oxfordshire and my competitive nature told me I really needed to make the effort to go and see them to add them to my county list.

Subsequent updates on the forum provided additional stimulus as  they informed me the two Twite were still at the reservoir, in the same place and looked settled. 

Right that's it I said to myself 

It took but ten minutes to gather my bins, camera and change into outdoor clothing before I was out of the door and driving to Farmoor, twenty five minutes away.

The birds were feeding on the perimeter track at the western end of F1, the smaller reservoir basin so rather than go to the normal car park I diverted to Mayfield Road which allows entry to the west end of the reservoir and is a shorter distance to walk  than the normal trek up the central causeway.

Parking the car, I took the alleyway between the houses and followed the path past Pinkhill to a small ever open gate marking the reservoir's western entrance.Passing through the gate I could see half a dozen local birders standing up on the perimeter track obviously looking at the birds.

It seemed to take forever to get to them but was only a matter of minutes and Gareth kindly let me look at them through his scope and there they were and as simple as that I added another new species of bird to both my Oxfordshire (272) and Farmoor (197) lists. 

They were relatively confiding and we slowly came to realise we could get quite close to them provided there was no sudden movements on our part. In fact two of us slipped over the retaining wall and walked  along the concrete shelving to arrive almost opposite them, our profiles mainly hidden from the birds by the wall.

Slimmer but similar in size to the related Linnet, the differences in plumage are subtle with the dark brown upperparts and paler buff flanks liberally streaked darker brown creating a stripey look. A prominent buff wing bar on each wing is also evident, The 'open' unmarked face and throat are a distinctive warm orange buff colour rather than the grey of a Linnet and their bill is pale yellow whereas the Linnet's is grey. 

They were feeding avidly, picking at the seeds of yellow flowered Lesser Hawkbit plants that were growing at the divide of grass and tarmac.Sometimes they would disappear into the grass, so small they were almost totally concealed but for the most part they concentrated on the margin where grass met tarmac.

 

I watched and photographed them for forty minutes, enjoying every moment but then they flew further down the perimeter track to continue feeding and the rain began to set in.Time to go.

We were fortunate this afternoon that the normally much populated reservoir was virtually devoid of folk walking the perimeter and so the birds had remained relatively undisturbed.

 

It is not often that I get a new bird species for the reservoir or for the county so I was well pleased with this sighting.

The Twite were still present in the early part of the following morning but the weather being sunny brought the inevitable people to stroll or jog around the reservor and this regular disturbance finally persuaded the birds to leave and they were never seen again. despite extensive searching from a lot of disappointed birders who had come to look for them throughout the day.

Sadly Farmoor gets so busy with footfall these days visiting birds rarely stay for long. If you want to see a rarity at Farmoor Reservoir you need to move fast.

The Black faced Bunting at Spurn 22nd October 2025

On Monday the 10th of October  2016 I arrived on Shetland hoping to see a Siberian Accentor, the first ever recorded for Britain but found it had gone.A potential disaster of epic proportions was partially averted by the discovery of a Black faced Bunting, only the sixth for Britain and what would be a new species for me, later that morning on the nearby island of Bressay which is only a fifteen minute ferry crossing from Lerwick.

I saw the bunting but it was hardly satisfactory as it was for seconds only as it flew, after an hour;s wait from its hiding place in a distant dung heap to perch for another seconds only view on an equally distant fence, before the bird dropped to the ground and did not show itself again. I could legitimately claim to have seen the bunting but would have liked much better views. Since that day I always harboured the desire to see one properly but being a very rare bird, that opportunity had eluded me until now when news came of a 'female type' Black faced Bunting being found at Spurn on the 20th of October.

Still a great rarity with only ten seen in Britain up to 2024, remarkably no less than three have occurred in Britain this year. Two on Shetland and this one at Spurn. Its normal breeding range extends from southern Siberia across to northern China and it winters in northeast India, southern China and northern parts of south east Asia.

Once we had satisfied ourselves with the 'Eastern' Nightingale we drove south and found a rather 'tired' but cheap hotel with friendly staff where we could spend the night and catch up on our sleep at a place called Longforgan just outside Dundee.

We made a plan that night to go for the bunting on our way south but not before. we drove the next morning to Slamannan near Falkirk to search for the regular wintering flock of Taiga Bean Geese.The flock has been steadily decreasing in size over the years but still a good number come annually to this traditional wintering site.

We did not have much to go on as the only report on Birdguides was of ninety two being seen in a field northwest of Slamannan on the 6th of October,over two weeks ago. Would they still be there? Only one way to find out and that was to go and look.

We drove along various rural lanes checking the surrounding fields northwest of the village but with little success until we encountered a friendly lady walking her dog who told us she had seen them flying over that morning and pointed in the direction they had gone.We drove further along the lane in that direction and found a farmworker who told us  they were usually in the fields much further up the lane but in his opinion we would be unlikely to see them.

Undaunted by his pessimism we carried on and at a bend in the lane at some elevation with a panoramic view stopped to scan the fields to our right and found a flock of over a hundred geese feeding in a distant field. A check through a scope confirmed they had bright orange legs and long bills with an obvious large orange band. We had found the Taiga Bean Geese.

We sought another lane that would get us closer to them but encountered a none too friendly farmer who gave us the impression the geese were considered a nuisance as  they attracted too many birders looking for this increasingly rare goose and therefore potential disturbance to his land and cattle.

We diplomatically left it at that and embarked on another marathon drive of six hours, southwards to Spurn on the Yorkshire coast or at least Adrian did, driving the car all the way and enhancing his almost legendary reputation for concentration and endurance.

The journey went surprisingly smoothly with a couple of stops for food and relief.There were no major hold ups on any of the roads and we arrived at Spurn at 1530. However on the way we had learnt the bunting was proving to be very elusive and was only showing about every hour for a few minutes.We also had the worry of time running out, as even after getting to Spurn we had a forty minute yomp over sand and dunes to get to where the bunting was feeding at an area called The Narrows and the evening was almost upon us.

Parking the car at the far end of the lane by the old observatory, where we could drive no further, we set off walking south along the beach, the soft sand making every step a chore. We were about the last people walking out to the bunting, meeting many others who had made the pilgrimage to the bunting trudging back the other way. It was a case of head down and not looking at or thinking about the daunting topography that lay before us.

We passed The Breach where high tides now overwhelm the path but today we were safe from that hazard and carried on, leaving the sand and following a path that was now firmer underfoot, through the dunes. 

Finally cresting a slight rise we saw in the distance a group of around fifteen birders clustered on the path and looking further along it.

They seemed to be intently scrutinising something on the path ahead of them.

Adrian walking alongside me became animated.

They are looking at the bunting!

It's showing he told me excitedly

We increased our pace and joined the group still looking at the bunting

A kindly birder directed me to where it was feeding in the marram grass to our right and much closer than I had imagined.

The bunting was feeding in and at the edge of the grass just below the post

At first I struggled to locate it but then a small, streaky brown head and body shuffled into partial view before retreating into the grass.

A few seconds later it re-emerged and this time came further into the open where I could scrutinise its plumage thoroughly. Unremarkable in every aspect it was at first sight a small bird with brown upperparts and paler underparts, both overlaid with darker streaks.Most noticeable to me was the broad, pale buff malar stripe running down from its bill to below its plain brown ear coverts. No one seems sure whether it is a first winter male or female - possibly the latter. We will have to wait and see after the many photos of it have been examined. 

I say 'in the open' although in reality it was never ever right out on the path but undeniably I could now say with utmost confidence  that  I had seen a Black faced Bunting both comprehensively and satisfactorily in Britain. Only a nine year wait!

We continued to watch the bunting as it gradually became more confident and would venture further out but always contrived to remain amongst the spikes of grass.My position on the path meant I was always looking at it from ground level but Adrian managed to stand half way up the steep bank to my left and was looking down on it and got better and clearer views.

c Adrian

I was nevertheless content with my position and realised that with the light fading and having to use a frighteningly high ISO I was never going to get a decent image but would instead have to settle for record shots only. Better that than nothing at all.

For another forty minutes we watched the bunting's comings and goings, straining our eyesight to discern it shuffling into and out of view in the grass. So long as everyone remained quiet and did not move it would venture further out and no one could complain about the views it afforded.

How fortunate we were to see it immediately on arrival. If we had  been required to wait it would have made matters very difficult as the time ran out and darkness approached. We were told by local birders this was the best it had shown all day.

The only down side was that the narrow path it had chosen to feed beside is the only route to the lighthouse further south and a tourist attraction, meaning visitors with no real interest in birds would return up the path. Some would show understanding and wait a while for us to take our photos, others were less co-operative but when this happened the bunting would fly up into the nearby bushes to our left and wait for a few minutes until they passed before flying back down to continue feeding.

The sandy edge on the right of the path was where we last saw the bunting

We watched it until the light really was going fast and reluctantly commenced the long trudge back along  a now deserted beach to the car. I walked at the sea's edge where the white surf of the incoming tide washed away the sand on my boots as the mournful cries of Grey Plovers and Curlews echoed across an emptiness of sea and sky.

A spectacular sunset spread above the vast Humber Estuary as the setting sun painted the wide skies an apocryphal fiery red and transformed the landscape to a place of fantasy.

There was no sign of the bunting the next day

  

A Nightingale from The East 21st October 2025

c Adrian

On Monday the 20th of October Adrian posted on our twitching WhatsApp group an image of the eastern form of a Common Nightingale that had been found amongst a small fall of migrants earlier that day at Rattray Head, near Fraserburgh in Aberdeenshire, Scotland.

It is only the fourth record ever of this form in Britain which prior to this individual has not been seen here since 1991.

He enquired if any of us were interested in going for it and advised he was considering leaving that evening to go and see it.

Currently not a species as such but classed as a sub species of Common Nightingale it may bc designated a separate species in the future and consequently has stimulated some interest amongst the twitcheratti. Personally I regarded it as an interesting bird well worth seeing as for me it is not all about adding another tick to my list but also deriving great pleasure from viewing and appreciating a bird of which I have no experience and simply enjoying it for what it is.

Having decided I would like to see it, I contacted Adrianimmediately and made a two and half hour drive to his house in Essex to team up with him at just after 6pm. Two other birding colleagues, Les and Paul (is there not a famous guitar maker going by that name?) being the final two  to make up a four in Adrian's car; Les was to be subsequently picked up from Epping and then Paul from Bar Hill in Cambridgeshire. All went to plan and we set off into the night heading for the northeastcoast of Scotland which seemed a very distant and daunting prospect at 8pm on a Monday night.

Rattray Head lies well beyond Aberdeen between Peterhead and Fraserburgh and it would take nine hours driving to get to our destinatiion with a scheduled arrival time of 6.30am if all went well.

Sitting in the passenger seat talking to the driver for nine hours throughout the night is not to be recommended and is nigh on impossible anyway but apart from occasional lapses into sleep on my part this is what has to be attempted to ensure the driver remains awake.

A couple of comfort stops at various motorway services on the way was all we allowed. Just as well for is there anything more depressing than the sense of abandonment and desolation that overwhelms you on entering an empty services at 2am in the middle of the night? Never am I more keen to flee the glare of neon and general naffness of such places and return to the comfort and cocooned sanctuary of the car. 

Inevitably one slips into a mild transcendent state staring at the onrushing road as the conversation and things to talk about dry up and your body craves sleep but Adrian and myself managed to keep conversing if only fitfully while the others slept in the back and finally we found ourselves north of Peterhead with just half an hour's driving left to get to our appointed location. The night was clear, with many stars visible and gloomily we speculated how this might have encouraged the bird to migrate but we had committed ourselves to this latest birding gamble and could but await the dawn to reveal our fate. We would know soon enough as the sky was showing the faintest glimmer to the east of us.

Still in virtual darkness we turned off the tarmac road and drove down a narrow potholed track in the middle of nowhere but even at this early hour encountered a runner  heading in the same direction as ourselves.We kept going until we came to a grassed parking area with the top of the iconic lighthouse beaming out its warning pulses of light beyond the dunes that we sensed lay in front of us.

A distinct feeling of denouement came over me as we came to a stop. It is always this way on being the first to arrive at a twitching destination and as confirmation that the whole journey will be rendered pointless or otherwise rapidly approaches.

There was one other birder's car in the parking area plus a tractor already running its engine and by the looks of it being repaired by a mechanic. At this early hour? Or maybe not so for a farmer as the time was now approaching 6.45am.

Above the parking area on a rise to our right were two large houses, currently bulky shapes in the semi darkness, one illuminated by a light. One was occupied, the other not.

The occupied house according to local birders has been rented by a rather truculent man from Manchester and who had the previous day lambasted birders who had come to see the nightingale and been thoroughly unpleasant throughout.So much so someone had reported him to his landlady who had told him to treat visiting birders with respect and courtesy rather than shout and swear at them.

This had the reverse effect and made him even more objectionable!

So this morning it was like treading on eggshells but as it was still dark there was no sign of him but only two friendly local men attending to the tractor.

We sat in the car awaiting the dawn which was soon upon us and getting our stuff together stepped out into a cold dewy morning and speculated where the nightingale might be if it was still here.

In the half light a bird sat silhouetted on a fence It could be the nightingale or it could be a Robin. A feature of the nightingale was that it moved its tail up and down in an exaggerated fashion and this bird did just that but there was not enough light to tell for certain what it was.

The bird disappeared and as the light increased we saw it or another nearer, in some gorse lower down the rise and to much rejoicing found it was our bird, looking very grey in the dawn but definitely the nightingale as it sported a rufous tail and crown.

The light was improving all the time and the bird showed intermittently but regularly in various bushes, gorse clumps and small bare trees for around half an hour before disappearing into a large area of gorse at the top of the dunes

For almost forty five minutes there was no further sign of it but eventually it re-appeared from the gorse and moved back to its original location, lower down by our parked cars. 

We all got some photos of sorts and although the bird was skittish it would regularly show well.

It breeds widely across central Asia from the Aral Sea across Kazakhstan to western China and winters in East Africa mainly in coastal Kenya and Tanzania. The bird I viewed today was slightly larger than 'our' Common Nightingale and noticeably longer tailed. The upperparts were sandy grey rather than a warm brown and contrasted strongly with its long rufous tail which it cocked frequently, a feature and action we all remarked upon as it seemed so different to a 'normal' Common Nightingale. It also showed obvious pale edges to its tertials, median and greater wing coverts forming clear wing bars.The plumage structure and behaviour was to me reminiscent of a Rufous Bush Robin.

Other birds were here too, some passing rapidly through this isolated, lonely area throughout the morning, others tarrying for a while. Up to five Blackcaps fed in the gorse bushes and Goldcrests were constantly arriving from the nearby North Sea, flickering through the gorse at speed and then were gone inland. A huge flock of Pink footed Geese squealed their way down from the sky onto an adjacent area of fallow land before taking alarm and departing, complaining at high volume. A lone White fronted Goose was amongst them.

The grating calls of migrant Bramblings came from the sky, presumably the birds were arriving from a sea crossing and voicing their relief at making dry land and a very pale Chiffchaff but not quite pale enough to be of the Siberian race, examined the lower branches of a bare willow.

For the first hour of daylight we were virtually on our own but gradually other birders came until there were around twenty of us.

At noon we decided we had seen enough. Everyone of us content.The nightingale meanwhile had flown back to the large clump of gorse at the top of the dunes and looked unlikely to emerge from its dense, green, prickly fastness for some time.

It was time to go and we drove back towards Aberdeen finding  small parties of Yellowhammers, Corn Buntings and Tree Sparrows, feeding and bathing on the potholed track as we made our way back to the road.

Rattray Head Lighthouse