White-winged Tern, Fairhaven, September 2nd 2026

I hate the conspiratorial lean in a conversation, that attempt to gather support through getting closer and offering a furtive opinion.  Conspiratorial was the only word I could use to describe how he leaned into me and offered a three-field-whisper: "Can you believe this was originally identified as a Black Tern?"

"Hmm?"

"I suppose it's fairly easily done for the more inexperienced birders."

"Well," I said, watching this beautiful juvenile White-winged Black Tern sweep at high speed through a cloud of hirundines, "I can see how hard it might be to separate them."

This wasn't the answer my conversation partner, a total stranger - and I mean that in more ways than one - expected.  Clearly, I had disappointed him by not knowing the difference between White-winged and Black Tern juveniles off the top of my head.  He moved on soon after, to my very great relief; when a man stands that close to you and talks in that sergeant-major-on-parade voice calculated to be just aggressive enough to keep you off balance without being immediately violent you're counting down the seconds until you've escaped his attention.  I put him out of mind, and kept on watching the swallow-like flight of this glorious little marsh tern.  

A second conversation nudged this back to mind ten minutes later.  A much more friendly and reasonable man stood with me at the low black railings over Fairhaven Lake and we discussed the fact that the change in status from Black Tern to White-winged had drawn many more people in to see the bird.  The landlady of the pub behind us came out to talk about the bird and waxed lyrical about its beautifully changing colouration as it flew between cool grey water and vivid green grass backgrounds.  This second man asked me what the difference was between juvenile Black and White-winged Terns, and I opened my mouth to express confidently that it must be to do with white wings, when I realised that this bird did not have white wings.  My mouth closed slowly, and I saw him get his phone out and slowly Google the differences between the species.

We learned that juvenile White-winged Terns have variable amounts of black, brown or grey on their wings and mantle, therefore appearing less uniformly black or monochrome, and that it was usually the presence of white flanks, a clear and obvious white rump, and a paler grey tail that gave it away as a White-winged.  Given the light or lack of light, the rain, the speed of the bird, and the fact that not every birder takes a camera into the field with them every time they wander their local patch, I don't think it's unreasonable to assume on a restricted view that a bird that looks like a Black Tern in the middle of an influx of Black Terns is, you know, a Black Tern.  Looking at my photos later, the pale rump and grey tail are very obvious, but it didn't feel like that when the tern was twisting and turning and hawking, jinking in rapid changes of corkscrew motion.  The colours of the whole plumage ranged between looking entirely black on top, to brown patching, to shimmering grey depending on the light and how the tern held itself.  Those lovely freeze-framed moments of clarity from the camera were not always apparent when watching the bird in real life.

I offered the observation that the hundreds of hirundines surrounding the tern sometimes made it hard to pick out over the darkening grey of the water surface; the tern wasn't all that much bigger than the Swallows, and flew very like one.  After all, Chlidonias leucopterus as a scientific name gives the game away (with a little help from Google), meaning "white-winged bird that flies like a Swallow".  While not a huge rarity - I've seen at least one every year since I came back to birding, and almost all of them within an hour of home - these are one of my favourite birds to watch and I will always make the effort to see them when they're here.  From the gorgeous full summer adult bird at Brockholes a few years back to this awkwardly shaded juvenile at Lytham, I've never encountered a White-winged Tern that didn't captivate me instantly.

Definitely a bird that rewards time spent in the field to gain experience, I suppose Sergeant-Major Disappointment who couldn't believe that anyone could mistake the Black and White-winged Terns had simply spent more time watching these birds than me.  Ahh well, only one way to rectify that situation... Here's to the next tricky juvenile bird I need to study, photograph and pore over: what could be more rewarding than another hour spent on observing a tern flying like a Swallow over a genteel boating lake in Lancashire?