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 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 specis for me, later that morning on the nearby island of Bressay which is only a ten 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 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 had come of a 'female type' Black faced Bunting being found at Spurn on the 20th of October.

We made a plan to go for it on our way south.

Still a great rarity with only ten seen in Britain up to 2024, remarkably no less than three have occurred in Britain this year. 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.

The next morning we drove further south 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. Would they still be there? Only one way to find out and that was to go and look.

We drove along various 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 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 disturbance to his land.

We 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 the where the bunting was feeding at 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 scrutinising something intently 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 again into the grass.

A few seconds later it re-emerged and this time came more 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 with overlaying dark streaks.Most noticeable to me was the broad, pale buff malar stripe running down from its bill to below its 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 confidently  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 hour we watched the bunting's comings and goings, testing 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. We were told by local birders this was the best it had shown all day.

The only down side was 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 the bunting would just fly up into the 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. The white surf of the incoming tide washed at my sand covered boots while 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