Temminck's Stint, Osprey and Nightjar

Working from home is littered with potential distractions and temptations, and all three of these birds in the last week have been species that have caused disruption in that I have either started late, finished early, or woken up late as a result of staying out to find them!

Osprey as a species feels like it has hit a critical mass in recent years, with colonisation occurring in lots of southern England, the midlands, as well as Northumberland, parts of Wales, south Cumbria, and of course the Scottish traditional strongholds. The number of non-breeding birds that seem to have lingered in Lancashire over the last couple of summers is good news, and especially seeing birds coming back to the same stretches of the Ribble means there is potential for breeding on the plethora of reservoirs and lakes to be found in east Lancashire, north Manchester and even where I am in the flat plains of west Manchester and north Cheshire.  Reports of an Osprey lingering at Pennington Flash across a week or more has been encouraging, as has its ranging back and forth to Lightshaw Flashes - a much less disturbed location than Pennington, with much better water quality.  Historically, fishing Ospreys at Pennington and west Leigh actually spend more time fishing in the extensive canal network than the main lake, though in spring 2026 there have been probably two and possibly more individuals hunting actively at the east end of Flash and then perching at the west end to feed.

Deciding that my less-than-annual Osprey in the 10k was worth an early morning and a late start at work, I arrived at the west bay of Pennington before 6.30am, to no sign of the raptor.  It had been favouring a large willow across the inlet at the west end, and a scan with my scope showed me the fecal splatter of a large bird - clearly the right place.  I was beginning to worry I'd missed my opportunity when Keith messaged me to say that he had eyes on the Osprey coming in from the east where presumably it had been fishing.  I looked east and there it was, mobbed mercilessly by four Lesser Black Backed Gulls and one each of Black-headed Gull and Common Tern, with a Carrion Crow showing little enthusiasm as part of the crowd.  The thrill of seeing this bird at a local venue is so big that I got goosebumps at the joy.  Firing off a dozen photos (of course with the settings all wrong - at this point there's almost no need to ask; I can't remember the last time my settings were right...) I watched as the Osprey flapped unhurriedly away west towards Lightshaw Flash.  Over the next hour it returned twice, looped over the Ruck, and soared away back west.  I never did get any more photos, but I spent every second I could just enjoying the bird.  I hope they do colonise, and I hope my children get to see them much more than I have in my lifetime; but to stand on this cusp of possibility is exciting, the potential is a little intoxicating.

Bill Aspin is one of those names of people who find all manner of birds.  A patcher beyond all else, the voice of Brockholes and east Lancashire.  A purple patch for his patch recently meant that when he found a Temminck's Stint on the river Ribble, I wasn't hugely surprised.  One of the patterns you pick up in birding is that there are waves and bursts of migration, and when the Temminck's start to get reported in Kent and Suffolk and the midlands, it's only another day until they might be at Pennington Flash (as in 2024), or Marshside (as 2025 and 26) or Brockholes.  I decided that, as it had been seen at about 3pm, I would knock off work an hour early and zip half an hour up the M61 to see if I could see it.  It's quite a shock to me that I can be at Brockholes, 18 miles away, quicker than I can access the Moss, only 4 miles from my door, due to the reality of traffic (and the mad roads to the Moss!).  Go north, no problem.  Any other direction and I might as well wait until 7pm.  A 20 minute walk down the Ribble, and I was watching the gravel bed on the river intently.  Common Sandpiper, Kingfisher, Common Tern all active as I walked, and Little Ringed Plover and Pied Wagtails were a constant distraction on the gravel as I scanned for the Temminck's.  I saw it almost instantly when I arrived, with a good 10 second view through my scope.  Went for my camera to grab a record shot, and the bird had vanished.

As a local birder said to me, it's basically a pebble with legs, sitting amongst pebbles.  We scanned together for 25 minutes, and I would swear we each covered every rock from an elevated position.  No sign.  He said he'd walk back down the river a little way, see if it had flown unseen to another gravel patch.  Of course he'd just rounded the corner 300 metres away, upwind so even my loud voice wouldn't carry, when I clocked the Stint with my naked eye and managed to get my scope on it.  A tiny movement and I was looking at this gorgeous bird alone.  I stayed with it until the birder returned, and he laughed at how typical it is that once one person leaves the other immediately finds the bird.  His description of Temminck's Stint as "the wader version of a Treecreeper" stuck with me - he was absolutely correct about the oval shape of the Stint from the rear, the way that it mimics the pebbles and rocks not only in terms of plumage, but a very obvious shape to settle amongst small rounded stones too.  A beauty of a wader and interesting to compare it to the Little Stint I was watching at Frampton Marsh a few weeks back.  Dwarfed by the Little Ringed Plovers, even dainty next to the vibrant and active Pied Wagtails, this tiny wader stole the show with a whole river full of beauty to watch.

A day on the Mosses on Sunday to see some Hobbies was a welcome stretch of the legs, and I put eight or nine miles on the clock to see Garden Warbler, Yellow Wagtail, Hobby, Marsh Harrier, and so on.  I was hoping for Cuckoo, but the torrential rain of Saturday seems to have driven them away.  Chance conversation with some of the real patchers of the Moss hinted that I might be able to pick up Nightjar that evening, though I had been warned that they were not very active because the weather had been cool and damp.  I added another three miles to my walk that evening, and spent two hours scanning the Moss from the path where I had my first Nightjar the year before.  After two solid, pretty cold hours, one Nightjar churred for about 20 seconds and then, ten minutes later, flapped languidly low over the willow scrub and cotton grass.  It's not the most satisfying view, but the fact that they're here at all always makes me happy.  A long walk back to the car, and I stepped into the house after 11pm, with at least 11 miles in my legs, but a glimpse of Nightjar as a reward.  

I woke up late on Monday morning, and had to work through my lunch to catch up.

No matter how far I travel to see birds, no matter the incredible scenery, the brilliant wildness of other parts of the country, seeing unusual birds in my home area is always my favourite way of encountering nature.  The Stints, the Ospreys, the Nightjars; work will never be as vital as those.