My Blue Heaven - 29th July 2026

I am all too aware that folk like myself who go twitching rare birds are prone to exaggeration but I can honestly say that my latest escapade in the company of two like minded colleagues will probably never be bettered for all round enjoyment and satisfaction. It had everything as I will relate below.

Read on to join the thrills, spills, highs and lows and general craziness that we subjected ourselves to for three magical days.

Why did we do it? Look to the image at the top of this blog and surely you will find the answer. A Blue-cheeked Bee-eater,  the ultimate rare visitor to Britain, incomparable to any other  in its beauty, charisma and all round desirability.

Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters breed in North Africa and the Middle East from Turkey to Kazakhstan and India and migrate to winter in tropical Africa. There are two subspecies recognised: Merops persicus persicus that breeds in Asia and winters in East and Southern Africa and M.p.chrysocercus that breeds in North Africa and winters in West Africa.Where this latest vagrant to Britain has originated is unknown.

It all started on the 13th of July when a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater, only the thirteenth to be recorded in Britain and the first for Orkney was discovered at Chestrain  before moving to Houdsland, both locations being on Papa Westray one of the most northerly islands that comprise Orkney. It remained throughout the next day and the following day lingered until  late afternoon when it flew high to the north and disappeared.A check of its temporary roost site in some small willows that evening drew a blank.There was no sign.It had gone.

Its brief presence prompted a predictable and inevitable  flurry of activity as birders from all parts of Britain contemplated the ultimate challenge and gamble, the bravest and some suggest foolhardy making frantic arrangements to travel north to try and see it.You have to be quick off the mark as mostly these birds do not linger.

Papa Westray is not easy to get to. You can fly but for most of us that is too expensive. The other way involves taking a ferry from Gills Bay on the north coast of Caithness to St Margaret's Hope  on South Ronaldsay, Orkney.Then you  drive across South Ronaldsay to Kirkwall to make another crossing to Papa Westray or Papay as it is called by the locals.Due to the ferry timings to Papay, often the only viable way is for a group to charter a boat at great expense from Kirkwall to get you to Papay or fly if there is space available on Loganair's tiny Islander aircraft.

My twitching pal Mark R did just that and chartered a boat that takes a maximum of 12 persons and I had a place promised on it but with ill timed luck my hip decided to become excruciatingly painful and rendered me almost immobile.There was no way I could drive for twelve hours to the far end of Scotland on my own and nursing a painful hip.I had to cry off and relinquish my place.

Mark and several others set off for Papay from their various homes and saw the bee-eater the next day as evidenced by some superb photos that duly appeared of it perched on telephone wires. Normally under such situations I am philosophical but missing this one hurt, it really did.I was almost inconsolable and comments such as

Don't worry there will be another 

were of no help or consolation whatsoever.

The pain of dipping the bee-eater slowly faded, aided by the sensational discovery of not one but two Long tailed Shrikes, the second and third for Britain no less, being found at Fife on mainland Scotland and on the Oxfordshire/Gloucestershire border a mere twenty minutes drive from my home. I went almost every day to pay homage to the shrike near my home and when an immature male  Montagu's Harrier was also found on the Oxfordshire Downs at Churn, the pain of not seeing the bee-eater was almost forgotten but not quite.

Then my equanimity was once more shaken to the core as news came through from Orkney that the bee eater was back, relocated but this time on Sanday, another of the inhabited northern islands that comprise part of Orkney.The bird had been found on the 28th of July at 0840, perched on wires by the fire station. 

My world went into free fall once more.My hip, now better was no longer a hindrance but most of my colleagues had already seen the bee-eater earlier on Papay. The  twelve hour drive to the very top of Scotland was too long to do on my own and I still had to navigate the complicated logistics of ferry timings and accommodation if I decided to go to Orkney.

I liased with Wayne Glossop who had hastily arranged a charter boat from Kikwall to Sanday for the next morning. It cost £1500 and could take twelve passengers which if fully taken up would make it viable moneywise. I could muster three; myself, my good friend Paul who lives in Norfolk and Clive who lives in Torquay and who Wayne had put in touch with me.

With only us three committed to the charter the cost was prohibitive. We needed more people but time was running out and there seemed little interest from other birders. Clive planned to drive to me and it would take him three and a half hours so he would need to know what the plan was as soon as possible. By mid morning there was still much to organise and we would need to leave for Caithness from my home in Oxfordshire at five pm at the latest.

Wayne told me four other birders had decided to go for the bee-eater but rely on the scheduled ferries to save the expense of the charter.This was unfortunate as their presence would have brought the individual cost of the charter down considerably.

In the end we too decided to commit ourselves to the scheduled ferries and I booked the three of us and my car onto the first sailing tomorrow of the Pentland car ferry from Gills Bay to St Margarets Hope on South Ronaldsay, Orkney. It left at 0930 and arrived at 1045.We then would need to drive for twenty five minutes to Kirkwall where another smaller ferry sailed four times a day to Sanday.The obvious choice of ferry was the 1045 departure but we would never make it from St Margaret's Hope so had to opt for the next sailing at 1400 hrs which meant we would have to wait  three anxiety wracked hours in Kirkwall worrying about the bee-eater and what it might do in those three hours, such as fly off..

There were yet further arrangements to be made such as accommodation on Sanday as we had decided to stay overnight in case the bee-eater was not present tomorrow when we got there. Thankfully Paul managed to find us beds for the night at Ayres Rock Camping and Hostel.

He also rang the Sanday Bus that would meet us from the ferry as we planned to leave the car in Kirkwall and come across as foot passengers.The bus driver, Geoff, had been the one to refind the bee-eater so knew exactly where to take us which was.a stroke of good fortune.

Exhausted  by the stress of making last minute arrangements, bookings and the wearisome toing and froing liasing with Paul and Clive, I collapsed into a chair mid afternoon and contemplated what lay in store

Here is the itinerary we would follow

28.07.2026

Clive would drive to me from Torquay to arrive at 5pm or thereabouts

Paul would take a train from Norwich to Northallerton in Yorkshire which would arrive there at 2100 hrs

We would make a four hour drive to Northallerton and collect Paul from the station

Then we would head north  to Gills Bay in Caithness to arrive at 7.30am the next day

29.07.2026

The ferry sailed at 0930 and arrived at St Margaret's Hope at 1045

We would then drive to Kirkwall and leave the car there

Wait three hours in Kirkwall and then take the 1400 hrs ferry to arrive at Sanday at 1605 hrs

Geoff and the Sanday Bus would meet us at the pier and take us to the bee eater site

What could possibly go wrong?

Needless to say there had been absolutely no word about the cause of all this emotional and physical turmoil since the first report of the bee-eater back in the early morning.

Doubts assailed my over active mind.

Was it still there?

Was anyone looking for it? 

Why were there no further updates?

Slumped in my chair I had time to reflect and the reality of what we were embarking on began to bite. We were taking a huge risk, one that I would normally not contemplate but the bee-eater drove me on, its iconic status in my twitching world and indeed with birders in general incentive enough. 

Paul called to advise he would be delayed as his train's air conditioning had failed and the train had been cancelled.He would be in Northallerton later than planned at 10pm

It was worth the huge gamble without doubt but a dark shadow lingered as the silence about the bee eater's continued presence on Sanday continued.

We all felt the same pessimism but stuck to the plan. All for one and one for all. Committed to try and see it we were not about to give up. It had to be done but it was a very long shot and the stakes were astronomically high. Pull this one off and we would be heroes, well in our own minds anyway but fail and have to drive back all those long weary miles would be sheer torture.

Clive and myself set off north at 6pm on a drive that was as trouble free as it could be on a busy M1 motorway and we paused at Tibshelf Services in Derbyshire for a coffee and break. We crossed to the A1 and all was well until as dusk began to fall, the all too familiar night time road closure loomed and we were diverted off the A1 to temporarily get lost but thanks to Clive's navigation and a tedious detour we got back on course.

As we approached Northallerton  Paul called again 

Where are you?

Ten minutes away.

By some miracle the train cancellation and our impromptu diversion had failed to confound our planned rendezvous

We collected Paul with little problem and after a stop to refuel both car and ourselves headed off across country, heading west as the satnav diverted us to avoid yet another closure on the A1 further north. This became memorable as the minor road we passed down was infested with rats, scuttling across the road in their droves, illuminated in my car's headlights.The Pied Piper of Hamlyn had nothing on this. 

We joined the A66 at Scotch Corner and crossed the Pennines east to west and turned north onto the M6 at Penrith  We made a brief stop at a rainy Cairn Lodge Services  south of Glasgow for Paul to take over the driving and we were away again on the long slog northwards along the A9, mile after tedious mile receding behind us in the darkness of the Grampians, a presence sensed rather than seen,  then eventually in the fading night, descending into Inverness with only another 120 miles to go to Gills Bay.

Beyond Inverness the dawn was upon us and my spirit sunk to an all time low.My ancestral home lies  along the Cromarty Firth and the Black Isle which we were currently passing and I was consumed by waves of sadness and melancholy. So many memories, so many regrets, so much that had been forgotten unexpectedly resurrected by these familiar surroundings. I recall Bill Oddie recounting about his lonely childhood and a difficult parent resulting in him turning to birds as a solace and so it has been for me. It is still, after all these years a great sadness that so many opportunities were lost due to my difficult father and now it all came flooding back to surprise and almost overwhelm me.

I tried to shake it off but could only fall silent as memories I thought long consigned to oblivion sprung to life and clung to me like a shroud and I realised that the land we were passing through can no longer be described as a homeland, familiar and majestic as it undoubtedly is 

It was a cold grey dawn which I am sure contributed to my downbeat mood and markedly colder than when we left Oxfordshire all those hours ago 

The warmth of the south was a distant memory and I changed into long trousers and warmer clothing when we made a loo stop in a still sleeping Brora,well into Sutherland.  

We drove on into the flat emptiness of Caithness, following the coast road when in fact we should have cut inland but no matter we were ahead of schedule and would have well over an hour's wait at Gills Bay. The sun rose, its golden glow cheering us and we followed a circuitous route into and around Wick and then onwards to Gills Bay.

Neither Paul nor Clive had ever been to Gills Bay before but I had.

What's it like they enquired.It sounds nice.

I put them right and advised it was neither the most scenic or welcoming of environments.

In fact it is dire, a bleak, functional concreted area where you wait for the ferry to arrive and remove you from its depressing surrounds as quickly as possible.

The other four birders were already here and we introduced ourselves and chatted about the currently unpromising prospects of seeing the bee-eater. Trying to re-assure one another in that way that birders consumed with anxiety do.It never really works but takes the pressure off temporarily

Having got all this way, totally without foundation I felt a slight optimism but still there was no news of the bee-eater and we had a long way to go yet, in both time and distance before we would even get the opportunity to look for our holy grail.

The quartet of birders had also booked accommodation overnight on Sanday so we at least would have help looking for the bird if it wasn't to be found today.

Check in when it came was brief and uncomplicated and we drove onto the ferry, lorries first with the cars fitted around them and being crammed so close to one another it was difficult to get out or in our vehicles. We proceeded up to the viewing deck and surveyed this wild part of Scotland bathed in sunshine and looking an absolute picture.It lifted my spirits no end but the bee eater hung like some malignant cloud at the back of my mind

Still there was no news of the bird. Surely someone would have checked on its continued presence and put the news out by now if it was there?

I consoled myself that no news was good news and at least there were no negative reports.Was anyone even looking for it. We had no idea.

To a cacophony of car alarms the ferry slowly slid from the  concrete mundanity of Gills Bay and headed out into the Pentland Firth.Tired and sleepless after the all night drive I was not in the best of spirits and as the ever present constant worry about the bee eater grew, tried to make the best of it by admiring the scenery..

Scotland did its best. The surrounding topography could not but inspire. Islands uninhabited  but still with the remains of former dwellings visible, now reduced to stark skeletons of roofless walls, silently communicated a sense of loneliness and abandon below vast skies and across endless sea.I tried to imagine the stories that lay behind their forlorn presence and what kind of life the former occupants led.

Lighthouses, shining pristine white  in the sun stood  guard on distant points of land that were either green and flat or with jutting headlands that stood in stoic defiance, their rocky bluntness stubbornly resisting the ceaseless pounding from a sea that today was blue and in places contrastingly turbulent and flat calm as mysterious currents created eddies and whirlpools.   

Kittiwakes were here in abundance and Fulmars put on their usual display of masterful flying, riding the contrary air currents on stiff, spread wings with no apparent effort. Occasionally  a Great Skua, dark brown and exuding brutish menace  barreled its way past on broad,white flashed wings.Tiny Puffins with deckchair coloured bills, bounced on wind chopped waves but this was nothing to what they endure far out to sea in winter.

Gannets, white and huge became imaginary paper darts as they glided effortlessly over the sea  crossing in front of the ship's bow.

Eventually we slowed on the approach to St Margaret's Hope. Leaving Paul and Clive I went to prepare to descend to the car deck as the other four birders went to the opposite side

A minute later they called over to me in great excitement.Waving to attract my attention

Ewan! The bee-eater! It's still there!.

Thumbs up 

A message of confirmation had just come through on Birdguides at 1037  

Again on post near Riversde Cottage at Lady, Sanday.

Immediately the whole world became a better and much different place.In an instant any negative thoughts were swept into oblivion and replaced by a surge of optimism..We were in with a chance after all but there was still an awful lot that could go wrong.The bird had been seen this morning at a village called Lady, by Geoff who drove the Sanday Bus but that was then and we had no way of getting to Sanday until four this afternoon. Anything could happen in the meantime.So near and yet still so far.

There was nothing we could do. The scheduled 1045  ferry to Sanday would be long gone by the time we got to Kirkwall. 

Paul and Clive joined me in  some excitement having  also heard the news about the bee-eater and we waited in the car to be directed off the ferry.It seemed to take an age but finally we were on our way to Kirkwall.

I cannot recall who suggested what in the car as we tried to control our surging emotions but I think I suggested to Paul that he call the charter boat number and ask if they were still available and if so how much would it be to take us one way to Sanday.It was a long shot but 'he who dares Rodders, he who dares'.as Del boy would say. Paul called the number and got an answerphone.He left a message and Steve called back a few minutes later. I listened as Paul spoke to him and explained our plan and Steve said he could do it despite the short notice and gave a price of £800.00.For a moment my heart sank.It was way too much for three of us to contemplate even if it was a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater. Then came a moment of inspiration as we hurtled onwards to Kirkwall.

What about the other four? They are bound to want to join us as it will save them three to four hours waiting to get to Sanday. 

Seven into £800 is  around £115 each which is much more accceptable

Quick give them a call

I don't have any of their numbers

I can call Wayne said Clive

Wayne did not have their number

Paul then suggested.

They are on the same BCBE Whatsapp group as us so their numbers will be on that

We got Brendan's number and called him. He answered and we explained our plan

No problem. They were in and we arranged to meet at the Kirkwall quayside in ten minutes

At last we were getting somewhere.

The charter boat, the Northerly Venturer would take an hour to get to Sanday and could leave Kirkwall as soon as we arrived.We would be on Sanday at noon rather than four in the afternoon.

The other four birders had arranged for the lady who was providing their accommodation for the night to meet them from the Loth pier where our boat would dock.We could join them and not bother with the bus.

After a swift visit to the bank for cash to pay for the charter we went to find our charter boat

I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a modern fully equipped boat with comfortable seats, a toilet and a plentiful supply of Tunnock's wafers and Wagon Wheels along with tea or coffee

The Northerly Venturer -our charter boat

What a result

In no time we were seated with a brew, the boat's engines roared and away we went at high speed on the hour long crossing to Sanday.Literally leaving Kirkwall in our wake.

Kirkwall Quay

I relaxed into my seat and closed my eyes.We had not seen the bee-eater, that was true but I now felt we would.Do not ask me why but I just felt a wave of optimism sweep over me..I am not sure my companions felt the same though. We had done everything possible to achieve success and were within touching distance of the bird. It was no longer in our hands but now up to the birding gods.

Paul collected the money and paid Steve £800 in cash

After the tea and a couple of Wagon wheels I felt almost human as we docked at Loth pier and were met by both Geoff and the four birder's landlady. Geoff had no problem with letting us go with the others and we followed the lady to her transport.

I looked at a large white van with no windows and that clearly had seen better days and whose rear doors were open to reveal a jumble of straw bales, some pallets and a large wheel.

Welcome to the Barn Shuttle as Geoff called it. Without hesitation we all hopped into the back of the van and with the doors firmly shut, away we went to an appointment with destiny..The tension in the van was almost tangible as in ten minutes we would either be looking at a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater or not.

The van drew up in a small road at Lady Village, surrounded by open fields. cows and sheep, and with a small holding by the road. I looked through the windscreen of our van and could see a guddle of half a dozen birders at the side of the road looking out and over a field.

They are looking at something someone said

Without further hesitation I threw the back doors of the van open and raced round to join the birders on the road.

Is it showing? I exclaimed

No need to ask what

Yes came the reply and they pointed to a metal gate on which, perched in all its emerald green loveliness was a.......................... 

BLUE-CHEEKED BEE-EATER!!!!!

I was speechless as all the worriesome hours prior to this moment, the anxieties and endless speculation coalesced into catharsis and unutterable joy

We had done it.We really had. It was almost unbelievable 

I dumped my camera bag and back pack on the grass verge and made the most of this moment with my camera.

There is nothing to beat this ecstacy of achievement, knowing the gamble has paid off and that from now on in it will be a celebration all the way. We were all buzzing with excitement. No more worries, no more concern. Winding down from that high wire of uncertainty we rewarded ourselves with a feeling of euphoria and sheer unadulterated happiness.

We watched the bee-eater perching on the gate and then flying up to catch insects, sometimes returning to the gate and at other times perching on telephone lines and wire fences.The field we were looking over was full of cattle which undoubtedly attracted many flies and in turn the bee-eater. 

We watched as it sailed over our heads chasing insects and  in between flights perched on twigs and vegetation.You could feel the excitement passing through all who were here to witness this event.I had the pleasure to meet Steve Dudley who has lived on Westray for the last five years and who I last saw when he organised the celebrated and legendary Oldenburg twitch to Lundy to see an Ancient Murrelet and also John Bell who I know from my Shetland trips. Such reunions are just as much an integral part of the enjoyment of twitching. I asked John why no news had been put out earlier and he told me they had checked here in the morning and there was no sign of the bird but now here it was, much to everyone's relief.

There were no more than a dozen of us present to witness the bee-eater as it went about its business and with about one car an hour passing on the road we could all relax and concentrate on a bird, surviving in an environment far from its normal one.

The islanders too took a great interest in the presence of the bird and Geoff, the Sanday Bus driver made us laugh when he told us how previously the bee-eater had flown alongside his bus as he drove down the road and not being a birder he assumed the bird, being green must be a woodpecker. We forgave him.

 

In flight it was accomplished and elegant. Overall it is burnished green with a pale blue rump and forehead, eyebrow and cheeks, a black 'bandit' mask through the eye and a yellow chin and rufous throat.Its long bill is thin, black and slightly downcurved  From below the undersides of its wings are coloured brick orange and the central tail feathers are elongated into a distinct spike that extends well beyond the rest of the square ended tail.

The bee-eater came and went, both distant and close, calling regularly but never strayed far from the fields with cows in them and was on view virtually constantly, perching between frequent feeding flights. As per usual I took far too many images in my excitement and Paul and myself bored each other with  insisting we look at each others particular image that took our fancy.

We had arrived at 1pm and it was now 3.30 pm.We asked Steve how far away was our accommodation and he reckoned two miles, and that we would have to walk as there was no taxi service on Sanday.Not an entirely pleasant prospect after our tiring journey to Orkney but if necessary we would do it.None of us had eaten much but luckily there was a shop at the end of the road where we could get some supplies for tonight.

I was loathe to leave the bee-eater as when if ever would I get such an opportunity again.

Fortunately as we pondered what to do, the ever obliging Geoff arrived along the road with his bus.We flagged him down and  asked if he would take us to our accommodation which he willingly agreed to despite it not being one of his official duties. We chanced our arm and asked if he would stop at the nearby shop first so we could purchase some supplies.Again he agreed provided we were quick as he had to meet the incoming ferry from Kirkwall.

Geoff with the Sanday Bus

Paul purchased a lasagne and a couple of bottles of red wine and I got some Orkney ice cream, cheese and rolls and two cans of Guiness zero.We were all set and off we went on the bus to Ayres Rock Hostel, driving back along the road we had just been watching the bee-eater from and believe it or not it flew parallel alongside us just feet away. Maybe the bus disturbed insects for it to catch. 

Arriving at Ayres Rock Hostel we were met by Claire who showed us to our accommodation.

Clive got a room to himself which was probably for the best as he was suffering with a bad back.  

Paul and myself were shown to a two bed sleeping pod with a splendid view over the seashore.

Our Sleeping Pod

The view from the Sleeping Pod

We were still high on adrenalin and as it was only five o clock I asked Claire how long it would take to walk back to where the bee-eater was. I wanted more.

She thought it might be quite a long way but then spontaneously said Take my car it will be quicker

At first I could hardly believe this generous and entirely  unexpected act of kindness but soon learned this kind of gesture was standard practice for Sanday's residents towards visitors.

So off we went for more bee-eater communing and as before the bird put on a bravura performance for another hour amongst the many swallows that shared the airspace with it. We were checked out by a herd of inquisitive cows as a male Hen Harrier with a damaged left leg hanging down flew past us and over the farm buildings.

The cows moved off and the bee-eater followed them down to the seashore, someway distant from the road. We debated whether to follow but in the end decided not to.

We watched the bee-eater swooping around the sky above the cows as the evening sunlight illuminated its electric blue and green plumage.

Then it flew towards us and across the road and continued high into the distance and was gone.We followed by car in the same direction but there was no sign of it.

The time was 6.30 pm and it was never seen again.There were no reports of it the next day despite people looking and all those with plans to travel up on the weekend were going to be disappointed.

We drove back to Ayres Rock Hostel and settled in. On an almost windless evening we sat at a table outside after Paul put the lasagne in the microwave and opened a bottle of red. I had a Guiness zero and Clive produced a very nice bottle of Argentinian wine to share and celebrate the fact the Blue-cheeked Bee-eater was the 500th species he had seen in Britain. Life felt pretty good for us all at this precise moment.

The sea in front of us stretched away into a blue distance and the outlines of other distant islands were visible across the sea as the air became still.Oystercatchers and Redshanks bickered on the seashore and then fell silent.Tiredness finally caught up with me after the meal and I retired to our sleeping pod and fell asleep almost immediately.

It was done.