Bee-Eater, Channel Wagtail and getting out there

 

The first half of April has been a wrestling match between my expectations and my reality.  Seeing the migration begin, knowing via apps and social media what birds are being seen in distant exotic locations on the south coast and struggling to see any of the spring birds has been a reality check.

And yet, I’ve persisted locally this month.  I try not to drive long distance for birds too often, usually combining a twitch with work or family visits, and I have abandoned this approach twice this month – and missed both birds.  I have missed the Bonaparte’s Gull (ten minutes ago, mate… nah, won’t be back until high tide…), the Forster’s Tern, Pied Flycatcher and various other birds I’ve moved more than 10 miles to see.  Migration success has been slow locally, as ever.  Following an early drop of Willow Warblers, there was a significant gap between the first Sand Martins and the first Swallow.  I’ve still only seen one House Martin, one Whitethroat and one Reed Warbler. 

I’ve walked well over 200km around local patches in the last three weeks, and though it felt quiet and frustrating at the time, I’ve seen some really interesting local birds.  A displaying pair of Long-eared Owls at an undisclosed site and a long staying pair of Garganey on the dubious habitat of Swan Lake at Cutacre were the glamour picks until the last couple of days.  Common Tern, Reed Warbler, a female Garganey, House Martin, Whitethroat at Pennington Flash made it feel like spring was here, especially in the consistent and unseasonal sunshine.  20+ hours searching for Yellow Wagtail finally paid off at Little Woolden Moss, with distant views of three flushed by a Carrion Crow.  Grasshopper Warblers were suddenly everywhere – and isn’t it always a relief when I can still hear them every spring? 

I’ve always regarded birders who find rare birds with a little awe.  How do they do it?  What’s the secret sauce?  When I ask them, they say it’s persistence that matters – being out there, looking.  One friend of mine always says, “you might not find a rare bird on your patch, but you definitely won’t find one on the couch.”  “Getting out there” can be discouraging though.  Especially if you live in an area of poor biodiversity.  My local patches are surrounded and threaded by industrial sites, roads, dog walkers, quad bikers, arsonists, stoned teens and not a small amount of people with guns who like to kill what I want to see.  There’s only so much of that I can take, before I need to spend some time in an actual wild place.  However, I’m nothing if not pig-headed stubborn, so rather than driving 45 minutes to the Wirral to pick up Yellow Wagtail, I was bloody well going to see my first of the year on the Mosses.

It turned out that my first close-up of Yellow Wagtail was a gorgeous male Channel Wagtail in a little tree ahead on the path back into Little Woolden Moss.  Taking a steady stream of photos in flat white light, I moved slowly closer, unaware at the time of quite how unusual this sub-species is in Manchester.  I had a little elated spring in my step walking back to my car: while this is hardly the find of the year, it’s a significantly unusual bird for me to find.  I was riding a little buzz of happiness as I sent photos to the County Recorder for Manchester, and spent my evening planning to go back for seconds and/or a Whinchat this morning.

Rain almost stopped play today.  I wavered this morning over a cup of tea as the wind got up and the rain came down, and decided I’d give it a go – rain brings migrants in to land, but is also a pain for a glasses-wearer.  Parking at Astley Moss, I wandered for a couple of hours from daybreak looking for Whinchat in areas where I’d previously seen them, with no joy.  20 Fieldfares surprised me in the fields, and a single Wheatear looked bedraggled from the constant showers.  Two pairs of Hares dashed across the peat and a Buzzard wearily flapped up from a perch on a tree a couple of hundred metres away.  I decided to call it a day – waterproofs water-logged and glasses constantly steaming up meant the lure of a good coffee at Mayhap in Tyldesley was winning out over a 5km round hike to relocate the Channel Wagtail.  I’m such a quitter.  I drove back towards Astley Green from the Moss and as always scanned the fields to either side for partridge.  There’s a power line I always look at as I drive past that often has Swallows, Collared Doves and the odd wagtail perched and today, as I followed an artic lorry slowly, I scanned the furthest wires first and worked back towards me.  Woodpigeon, Collared Dove, and a strange shape with a noticeably curved and slender bill.  I shouted out loud, alone in the car, “Bee-eater!”.  Two further pieces of good fortune happened then: one, there was nothing following me up the road, and two, my brakes work very well.  I leaned out of the car 40 metres up the road from where I could now see the colour of the Bee-eater.  Grabbing my camera, I just about remembered to flip the lens cap off and fire off 20 rapid fire shots – hoping the ISO was set right.  Twisting around in my seat wasn’t ideal, so I pulled slowly away to avoid spooking the bird, and got out of the car, taking three more photos before a second lorry drove under the Bee-eater, flushing it away over the fields.

It's presumably the same bird that was seen at Rodley NR in West Yorkshire earlier in the week and it was definitely not enjoying the rain.  Sadly, despite putting the news out immediately (with adrenaline-shaky hands!), it hasn’t been seen again at the time of writing.  The absolute joy of finding this rare bird a couple of miles from home was (and is) such a powerful motivator to keep searching.  And maybe that’s the thing that drives people to keep looking: a little success.  Scanning every passerine to check for Yellow Wagtail for the last two weeks was eventually rewarded with a Channel Wagtail; choosing to try and look for Whinchat in the rain (and of course eventually giving up!) led to finding a Bee-eater.  Of course there’s a healthy dose of being in the right place at the right time, but the right place is definitely not the couch.  So here’s to getting out there, and all the real dedicated patch birders who interrogate every bird even when the rare reward eludes them – may they all find their own patch gold.