Sabs Revisited 19th January 2023

Today I returned, in the company of Peter a fellow Oxonbirder, to Havant and the Sabine's Gull. The day was a classic mid winter combination of crisp cold air and a bright sun shining from the outset with not a breath of wind to stir the still blue waters of Langstone Harbour. Such a contrast to Sunday when there was a strong and troublesome wind.

I had also arranged to meet two other birding colleagues, Mark and Les here. There had been no news on whether the gull was present as myself and Peter drove south from Oxfordshire and we were still none the wiser on getting to the small car park by the seawall at Langstone Harbour. However the number of birders milling around told us that surely the gull was still here and immediately on getting out of the car the Sabine's Gull conveniently flew past us and along the seawall before settling on a pebble beach virtually below us.

I rang Mark and Les who were half an hour behind us, somewhere in the clutches of the M27 motorway,  to inform them the gull was still here, so they could at least relax in that knowledge as they headed our way. 

A female stonechat perched on a post just in from the seawall, her brown plumage made ginger in the strong sunlight while a Little Egret was a shock of white as it waded in the blue waters of the marshland beyond.

The Sabine's Gull flew from the beach and we followed it southwards along the seawall to the area of saltmarsh and lagoons that it most favoured. Mid morning and the tide was full but on the ebb. Far out  on the shining waters of the harbour were four Black necked Grebes, a Great Northern Diver and a diving Long tailed Duck. On the receding tideline Grey Plovers and Curlews called evocatively, their melancholic voices ringing out in the still air, a vocal prompt of the wilder summer homes they will seek when winter departs. Smaller waders were on the move too, stirring as the shore became exposed. Turnstones and Dunlins mainly, flying at speed in tight groups across the silver waters with no time to lose in these short hours of feeding opportunity.

The Sabs meanwhile, regularly flew back and fore along the seawall, dipping down to the sea to snatch a morsel, sometimes passing over the heads of unsuspecting arriving birders on the seawall, while we positioned ourselves by the saltmarsh to wait, as we knew for certain it would return here.

There is little more to say except that we sat or stood in the sun  for the next four hours watching the gull on the shingle before us or intermittently flying around, charming us with its beauty and charismatic presence

                            Here are some more images that I took today of the Sabine's Gull. 

 

The South Coast Sabines 15th January 2023

A Sabine's Gull (Sabs for short) in full summer plumage was found on the 10th of January at a place called Budd's Farm Sewage Works which is at Havant on the northeast side of Langstone Harbour in Hampshire.

I have seen a good number of Sabine's Gulls over the years, the majority in juvenile plumage so one in adult summer plumage, in winter and showing exceptionally well, inevitably proved impossible to resist.

On Friday the 13th I set off early to make the two hour drive to Budd's Farm and all went well until half way along the M27 and just a few miles to the turn off for my destination the four lanes of heavy traffic came to a halt nose to tail and there we remained for the best part of an hour. The police had closed the motorway due to a fatal accident earlier and as usual the resulting traffic chaos was left to sort itself out. It was hopeless with cars jammed on all the other surrounding roads as they sought a way round the closure and in the end I gave up and drove back home, there to renew my acquaintance with the wintering Yellow browed Warbler at Donnington in Oxford. It was hardly a consolation.

The Sabs continued to be reported throughout Saturday and I resolved to make another attempt to see it on Sunday the 15th, leaving home at 5.30am, knowing the day was going to be sunny but very windy. This time there was no motorway incident to impede my southward progress and eventually I passed through a large shopping complex, then turned down Southmoor Lane and as instructed drove to the far end and found myself in a small car park by the seawall.

Even at 8am on a Sunday there was no lack of birders, virtually all intent on seeing the Sabine's Gull which has rapidly attained celebrity status due to its obliging nature, overall attractiveness and easy accessibility. Not sure where to go a helpful departing birder told me to head left along the seawall as the gull was loafing on an area of brackish salt marsh that contained a shallow lagoon rather than at the sewage outfall which was off to the right.

On taking the track along the seawall I received the full force of a strong southwest wind blowing directly in from the huge harbour. Dark bellied Brent Geese, immune to the elements were feeding out by the edge of the sea while Oystercatchers and Common Redshanks examined the rocks and pools being exposed by the falling tide.

A brisk walk for a quarter of a mile  got me to the lagoon and saltmarsh, an area called Southmoor where the sea has breached the seawall, creating some very nice habitat.

I could see about a dozen birder's stood out on the mud looking at a small white gull sat on an island of green weed and mud just beyond and opposite them. A look through my bins was all that was needed to confirm it was the Sabine's Gull.

Joining the group I stood and waited to see what the currently squatting gull would do. The answer was not a lot as it continued to sit whilst being visibly buffeted by the wind it was facing into. It was not the only one being inconvenienced by a wind continually coming at some force from the harbour, passing over the seawall and battering at my back in vicious gusts. Thankfully well insulated I was mostly immune to the wind chill and with the sun at my back was all set for some camera action.

There were twenty or so Black headed Gulls flying into the wind and every so often dipping down to the lagoon to delicately pick a morsel from its surface. Reaching the far end of the lagoon they would turn and be swept downwind only to bank at the other end and repeat their performance.The Sabs seemed little interested in joining this activity but eventually roused itself, flew into the wind and promptly disappeared towards the sewage outfall. After the wait and growing anticipation this came as something of a disappointment to put it mildly.

With the star attraction now absent I turned my attention to the lagoon, searching for any other birdlife to bump up this year's birdlist. Two Common Greenshanks were a pleasant surprise, their pale plumage a razzle dazzle of white courtesy of the bright sunshine while a female Goosander, that went to sleep on a distant mudbank, was equally unexpected. Apart from this there were just the usual Common Redshanks and a small group of Dark-bellied Brent Geese.

Fifteen minutes later the Sabs was back, looking noticeably small and tern like as it flew amongst the feeding Black headed Gulls, the latter keeping a respectful distance from us birders clustered on a bank of shingle. Not so the Sabs which flew past us and then turned into the wind and came very close before dropping to the surface and gobbling a scrap of fish, which I was to learn had been distributed by one or two of my fellow birders .

It came extraordinarily close at times, no more than twenty feet away, standing on patches of mud and weed in the shallow water and gobbling up the fish scraps. It was so near at times I was forced to reduce the zoom on my lens but I was hardly going to complain about having such a beautiful gull so close to me. 

Of course, as is now customary, virtually everyone present had a camera and many of my fellow birders prostrated themselves on the gravel and mud to get that eye level shot. Maybe it's a macho thing, the coating of mud and grime serving as a badge of honour.

Rather them than me as they would do just as well by crouching or kneeling and save themselves the bother but each to their own.

Most small gull species are remarkably beautiful in breeding plumage and the Sabs was no exception, even more so in the early morning light. Its head was hooded and depending on the angle at which it was held appeared either  charcoal grey or darker with a distinct black collar bordering where the hood joined the white feathers of its nape and neck. Its black bill was generously tipped with sulphur yellow, while  its slender body was the standard gull combo of medium grey above and white below. When it flew however, it revealed a startling wing pattern of contrasting triangles of black, white and grey with predominantly black on the outer primaries, white on the inners and secondaries and grey wing coverts. The tail was markedly forked and all white.

Looking at my images of this bird it would appear that the feathers were very worn. Noticeably the white spots on each of its primaries were much abraded as were the tips of the primaries and its tail was similarly worn and ragged.The upper body feather tracts also showed wear. So was this an adult that aberrantly had not moulted out of its summer plumage? Due to the obvious feather wear it surely had not prematurely moulted into summer plumage.

Sabine's Gulls have a circumpolar breeding distribution ranging from Alaska and the Canadian Arctic to Greenland, and Spitzbergen to the Taimyr Peninsula in Russia. Most North American Sabines spend the winter in the Pacific Ocean off South America while populations from Greenland and eastern Canada cross southwards in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean to winter in the Benguela Current off southwest Africa. There is also conjecture, due to the number of inland records, that some birds from North America, Europe and even Siberia may move overland to their winter homes at sea. Many are also driven east in gales and storms to fetch up on the coasts of Ireland and Britain.This may well be responsible for the arrival of this individual I went to see on Sunday. Presumably caught up in an Atlantic storm it had been blown northeast by gales and like many another of its kind made landfall on the coast of Britain. Could the gale that enveloped it have resulted in the retension of its worn plumage? Unlikely but possible, the bird concentrating on survival and putting any moult on hold.

It seemed happy enough in its temporary albeit alien environment and  why not as Southern Water are disgracefully continuing to pump industrial quantities of raw sewage into the sea off the southern counties of Britain,  including Langstone Harbour, as the hundreds of gulls around the sewage outflow nearby made all too obvious.I could not help but reflect that the juxtaposition of a beautiful and romantic gull feeding on gallons of discharged human excrement  acted as an allegory for our human world and the way we continually abuse it

For the first hour the gull was continually on show, either making brief sorties over the lagoon to pick up morsels of fish or to stand on one of the many mini islands of  exposed weed, braving the wind by using its wings to balance. Opportunities were so numerous to watch and admire it at close quarters one almost became blase, almost but not quite as this was virtually a unique event and therefore to be savoured.

After several forays to the sewage outfall  it settled to its original resting place on the little island of mud and weed as meanwhile a continual procession of birders arrived to admire it whilst others departed to explore further areas of the harbour.

For over an hour it remained immobile, squatting on the weed and mud, only its head moving constantly, looking this way and that. It was attritional standing in the buffeting and cold wind as we all waited for it to do something, anything but it resolutely refused to play ball. Obviously stuffed full with fish bits donated by various birders it was not even tempted when yet more fish scraps were cast upon the water.

Finally it stood up and now we felt was the opportunity for the flight shots we had all been waiting for and anticipating but no, it flew steadily into the wind to the far end of the lagoon, cleared the trees there and headed for the sewage outfall once more. Cue a mass departure of birders and toggers. I joined them as frankly it was a joy to move my limbs and regain some warmth.

I went back to my car for a quiet sit and scan of my photos. It was a relief to leave the wind outside and when sufficiently revived in body and spirit I did not want to leave and succumbed to the lure of more Sabs adoration. Well who wouldn't? Walking back to the lagoon I found the gull had returned to its little sanctuary of mud and weed and was, as per usual doing very little.I hung on until it made a move and as before it headed off to the sewage outfall but unusually it was back in just a few minutes and settled once more on its island.

One more image of it sat on its favourite spot and I decided that four hours of admiring the Sabs at close quarters had done both it and myself justice.

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, hyperactive sprites, 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.

 

.