Black Scoter and Great Grey Shrike, March 15th 2025

 

With low tide being at 6am(ish) on Saturday, K and I decided to try for the Black Scoter early.  Though not a new bird for either of us, realistically, the absolutely embarrassingly bad views we had had of the Northumberland bird from a very windy Cocklawburn beach in October 2022 meant that it would feel like a new experience if we could see it in more detail than a blur of black and yellow pixelation at full magnification through a scope.  Aware that it’s a long walk out to the low tide line, we arrived just after first light and began the trudge over slick, wet, muddy sand to where two birders were already on the tideline.

Fully expecting a 90-minute scope scan through thousands of Common Scoter, I was delighted that the Black Scoter was the third bird we saw, in with a mixed flock of Common Scoter and Long-tailed Duck (itself a great sighting for the north west coast).  Views through the scope were brilliant, with the huge yellow bill obvious even with the naked eye once we knew where the flock was on the sea.  Frustrated that my phone scoping gear is out of action currently, I tried to take some photos using my Canon 7dii and a static 400mm lens.  Some of the shots came out ok, and out of 200 pictures taken I probably have five I’m happy with as record shots.

We spent an hour watching the Black Scoter display, feed, and associate more with the Long-tailed Ducks than with the Common Scoter as the now incoming tide continually washed around our feet, and could see the size difference and the slight posture variation between Common and Black.  The bright sunlight occasionally glinting from a Common Scoter bill meant that the longer we stood there, the harder the Black was to pick out, especially as it began to swim directly out towards distant sandbanks and dive more actively.

For various reasons I missed a lot of winter birds last year, and though my year list is flying along at around 188 species in mid-March, I have not caught up with Purple Sandpiper – another scarce bird in the north west.  Knowing that small numbers roost at New Brighton on the marine lake pontoon at high tide, we decided to get breakfast and wait in the strong sunshine to see if any came in to roost.  The 2km plod back over the mud was easier with coffee in mind, and we arrived at New Brighton around three hours before high tide.  Half an hour with a brew in the sun was a very civilised way to see a single Purple Sandpiper appear amongst 90 Turnstone and 40+ Redshank, though it immediately tucked its head under its wing and was fast asleep before I could get my camera untangled from my coffee cup.

It was before 10am, and we’d already seen both target birds for the day.  We’d planned to check the Short and Long-eared Owl roosts at our various local sites in the late afternoon, but were left with a 6 hour gap and no clear plan – not like us!  At that exact moment, a report of the Great Grey Shrike at Cannock Chase, eighty minutes south, popped up on BirdGuides.  As I’d frustratingly missed the Hatfield bird earlier in the year, we decided to go and see if we could find it.

The Shrike has been reported variously as elusive, mobile, and hard to find, so we were mindful that we probably wouldn’t chance on it instantly in the huge expanse of Cannock Chase.  That said, we caught a glimpse of it distantly as we arrived at the World War I shooting butts before it flew behind a stand of conifers and seemingly vanished into thin air.  There were a dozen other people looking for the Shrike, but nobody was having any luck.  We decided to spiral slowly away from the initial site following footpaths to try and intersect with the bird as it crossed what has clearly become a winter territory.

Fifteen minutes of logical spiralling later and we found the Shrike half a mile from its initial perch.  The local Goldcrest population was not happy with the presence of the Great Grey, and this led us to scan tree tops.  Over the hour that we followed (distantly) and observed the Shrike, it was clear that it favours birch trees as its perch, and also that it is following a roughly triangular path back around to its first position.  We moved ahead of the Shrike along what we thought would be its next movement along its route and within five minutes the bird perched close in at the top of a slim young birch.  Three hundred photos later, and the elation of seeing such a brilliant bird so close in will take a long time to fade.

We set off back to check our local sites for owls and Wheatear.  A 10km walk to survey the farm and moss land birds was rewarded with only the second Tree Sparrow of the year, along with Dipper on territory on a stretch of the river that I’ve never seen them occupy before.  No Wheatear had appeared during our four hour search, and the Long-eared Owl roost was empty (though surrounded by chain-smoking photographers, so hardly a surprise).  Rumours have been circling that the 8 Short-eared Owls that have wintered nearby had been flushed by a combination of photographers getting too close and the local farmer (rightly) annoyed at continual trespass on his land, cutting the long grass back to prevent the SEOs roosting.  So it was with relief that, by 4pm, six Short-eared Owls were hunting actively, mobbing Buzzards and being harassed by the resident Kestrel pair.  Grey Partridge in the fields on the way home, and at least four pairs of Mistle Thrush singing, along with a large flock of pristine looking Fieldfare rounded out a very successful day.