Nocmig update - Flamborough, spring 2025

 

Please use headphones for the sound clips

So, onwards with the nocturnal migration sound-recording (nocmig) once again, from a garden in the village, for my sixth year at Flamborough (I began recording here in autumn 2020).

 

I began recording in mid-March and continued every night to the month's end (it being an often productive period). Waders included Curlews on three nights, regular Oystercatchers, Golden Plovers on two nights, Snipe on 17th and Dunlin on 29th, while wildfowl included flocks of Wigeon on three nights and Teal on four - excluding Common Scoters, that is, which were fantastically numerous and entertaining... 

  

 ... two flocks on 19th kicked off proceedings, followed by a single flock on 23rd, an excellent 38 flocks on 24th, 20 flocks on 25th, 23 flocks on 26th, three flocks on 27th and then a mammoth 41 flocks on 28th - my second highest count for the site (after the memorable scenes of 28th March 2022, exactly three years earlier). A single flock on 29th and four flocks on 30th rounded off an excellent period, with a total of 133 flocks over the two weeks.

  

There always seems to be scarcer highlights in the early spring, and March '25 was no exception - a Bittern over on 19th (my 7th here, all in early spring), and a Hawfinch on 30th were both quality, and the latter was a new species for the site. 

 

Otherwise, expected species included regular Moorhens, Grey Herons, Coot, Black-headed and Common Gulls, Robins, Song Thrushes, Blackbirds and Redwings; thrush numbers were modest, with only a couple of night of three-figure Redwing action (peaking at 218 on 26th).

 

Conditions during the peak period of April were consistently poor - high pressure and often brisk winds from the wrong directions - and thus results were pretty modest overall. Waders were fairly well represented, with Little Ringed Plovers on 2nd and 13th, Golden Plovers on 2nd, 21st and 22nd, Redshank on 14th, 17th, and 27th (four), with flocks of Knot featuring on 15th, 16th, 17th and 29th. The 17th was a real standout, with three flocks that night (two of which were substantial), as well as a large, noisy flock of Bar-tailed Godwits.

 

Otherwise, wildfowl included Tufted Duck on 26th, Wigeon on 26th, Teal on three nights, and more Common Scoters - one flock on 1st, two on 7th, 11 on 10th, three on 21st and one on 30th, totalling 18 flocks for the month. Expected registrations included Common Gulls, Coots, Moorhens, Oystercatchers, small numbers of Redwings, Song Thrushes and Blackbirds, a Robin on 2nd and a Chaffinch on 7th.

  

The weather again refused to play ball in May, although notable spring migrants included Common Sandpiper on 1st, Green Sandpiper on 20th, Arctic Terns on 1st, Sandwich Terns on 7th and 11th, Little Ringed Plover on 14th, Gadwall on 16th, Golden Plover on 3rd, Teal on 2nd and 9th, and two more flocks of Scoters (on 1st and 22nd).

  

June is always very much about quality over quantity, and can draw a blank on many nights - which was indeed the case (especially later in the month). However, it was (just about) worthwhile for a few registrations - most notably Grey Plover on 11th and, bingo! - a very vocal Quail on 8th.

The Rarity Garden - your new favourite book (trust me)

The Rarity Garden - a journal of wild obsession on the Great White Cape of Flamborough 

by Richard Baines 

We've all been there - you know, when one of your best friends creates something (art, music, writing) that they've put their life and soul into, and you're cornered into either hurting their feelings with genuine honesty or (more likely) hollowly placating them with disingenuous platitudes. It's a no-win. 

But there is, very occasionally, a third alternative - and that's when the something in question happens to be fucking great, and you couldn't be more proud of or enthusiastic about it. The Rarity Garden, by my dear friend and birding brother Richard Baines, is one of those rare gems, and if you've got a few minutes I'll try and explain why.

   For a decade, Rich lived in one of the old coastguard cottages up on the tip of Flamborough Head (the 'Great White Cape'), where he nurtured both his wildlife-magnet of a garden and his love of watching, enjoying and recording the dramas that played out within it. 

The Rarity Garden is a distillation of the journal he kept throughout that time - a Greatest Hits, in chronological order, of the birds and wildlife of the garden (and the wider area), from Isabelline Shrike and Blyth's Reed Warbler bathing in the stream to movements of Little Auks and Sooty Shearwaters from the back of the shed! 

But it's much, much more besides. As Rich is at pains to stress, a 'rarity' is very much in the eye of the beholder - and can be just as much about a special moment with a common species, or a personal epiphany at the least likely of times or places.

Full disclosure - I've known of its quality for some time, as I've had the privilege of editing it throughout the course of its journey from rough cuts to the lush, sexy publication that lies before me now. 

My part in the process, spread over these last few years, could've backfired terribly - imagine enthusiastically agreeing to do your friend a favour, only to discover you're in for a prolonged and excruciating firefighting journey... But, thank the gods, that couldn't be further from the truth. It's been an absolute joy to work on, and genuinely inspiring to see it grow and blossom into the uniquely wonderful book I can hold in my hands today.

For those of you that know him, Rich requires no introduction. For those who don't, he's one of those rare people you meet who always seems to find the beauty, the silver linings, the overlooked minor details, and the inspirations in any situation, particularly when its related to birds and nature. 

Therein lies one of the secrets that makes The Rarity Garden so special; it's imbued with that genuine wide-eyed, child-like enthusiasm, untainted by cynicism and yet qualified by the experience and skills of someone who really knows his shit (and when he doesn't, can't wait to find out more and share the journey). 

For me, the most important aspect of the editing process was not to interfere with or 'correct' Rich's voice, which, in turn, is the single most important aspect of the book. It's as close to the way he speaks as can it can be - which is to say, bursting with enthusiasm, wonder, wit, passion, curiosity and outright unabandoned love for birds and nature. 

To say it's infectious would be a pathetic understatement, and if you're not shifting anxiously in your seat after reading a chunk of it, itching to get out and soak up some nature for yourself, then you're a stronger person than I. Actually, scrub that - you'd need to be dead inside not to feel fired up and ready to roll.

The Rarity Garden should and will appeal to absolutely anyone with an interest in birds and nature, and it's that genuine oddity of a natural history book - possessing an across-the-board appeal without diluting or dumbing down the quality of the content: 

You could be someone who just enjoys watching the birds in your garden, or a laser-focused hardcore rare bird finder; a migration aficionado or someone who just enjoys the ebb and flow of the seasons; someone steeped in the great tradition of natural history journals and writings, or somebody who doesn't usually read much but loves a bit of nature now and then. From uber-nerd to uber-normal, The Rarity Garden is 100% for you. 

 

It's a thing of great beauty, too, from its classic gold embossed cover to the multitudes of evocative illustrations, photographs, maps and more crammed into its pages, which are in turn of a quality that makes them a joy to turn (extra points for tactile sensuality!)... and it's perfect to dip in and out of at leisure, be that in bed, on the couch, or of course, on the throne. You heard it here first.

Very proud of you, Ricardio - the boy done good (and I mean really good....)!

To order your copy and read more about it, go HERE - and remember, 5% of all proceeds from The Rarity Garden will be donated to the North Yorkshire Turtle Dove Project, which works to protect and restore habitats for one of the UK’s most endangered birds. Buy it, you won't regret it!

Swift action - Flamborough, 22nd June '25

Overnighting back on the coast to see the folks and get some cooler sea air, it's also the time of year when Swift movements can kick off - checking the forecast for first thing this morning (brisk WSW, cloud front moving through), I couldn't resist the possibility.

While Flamborough isn't ideal for such movements as discussed previously (lacking e.g. a nice, smooth leading line), I'm still fascinated to find out how it works (or doesn't) from a visible migration perspective, and this morning's experiment was another success in that respect.

Up for 0340hrs, in position on Beacon Hill in the half light thirty minutes later, the first few Swifts were already on the move, and with a blustery wind delivering a low bank of cloud, hundreds soon materialised from the north - many over the sea, many over the land, many low and close, with some swishing past within metres of me on the clifftop.

Not a huge movement, but a final tally of 847 in three hours (with the vast majority before 0530) was a good result, and either way, it was great to be out on the deserted coastline for the first few hours of daylight.

Full count on Trektellen here.

Full house - 16th June '25

Today was one of those days when you really get the feeling the gods are with you. After recent medical stuff it was my first day back working in a couple of weeks, and the forecast was for warm sunshine - ideal. Before I set off, however, I brought in the recorder from the back garden here in suburban York and checked the spectrogram over breakfast....

 

Snoozin' Nightjar - what a beauty

It's the time of year when the only sane reason to bother continuing with nocmig is for something seasonally special - perhaps a Quail, even a rare heron, or an odd wader. Amazingly, the last three nights have registered Quail on the first two and then Avocets last night (the only birds recorded...). I'm pretty sure it's a rare York area record, and my first ever on nocmig anywhere, after five years recording on the coast.

Fun fun fun with the Ortolaan (affect Kraftwerk voice for this line)

So, a very good start. A diversion on my way up onto the moors blocked my route via Pickering and pushed me further eastwards along the A64, and much nearer Wykeham as it happened - where the Ortolan has been reported over the last day or two. Probably not a bird I'd have gone for on its own, but seeing as I was over there, up to the Raptor Viewpoint for a short while seemed like a good idea.

Lapwing chick

It was - almost immediately, there it was, with its male Yellowhammer suitor (they've been observed copulating, and nesting material has been gathered....) - excellent, and perhaps unique, given those circumstances. On the way back to the car, I was kindly told of a roosting Nightjar on a logpile not two minutes away. Again, excellent - what wonderful birds they are, and the opportunity to see one snoozing nearby should never be skipped.

Adder

Having already had a relative blinder without reaching mid-morning, I arrived up at my survey site more than happy with the day's gifts. But there was more to come, with one of those one-treat-after-another runs that included displaying Hobbies, Cuckoos everywhere, wader chicks (including Curlews), Small Pearl-bordered Fritillaries wherever I looked, a gorgeous (and very tame) young female Adder on my path, a day-churring Nightjar in the midday sun, and to cap it all, a close fly-by female Hen Harrier carrying prey.

The coast, mid-June '25

My first opportunities to get to the coast since recent medical issues and recovery, and while it was perhaps a bit too much too soon, it was well worth it. At Filey on Friday I had the Brigg to myself, aside from multitudes of seabirds, and a few late waders - including Sanderling and Turnstone:

Saturday, and a relaxing walk with the Mrs up Hoddy Cows Lane from Buckton village to the clifftop was equally peaceful and nature-filled, with the wildflowers at their peak; in turn, butterflies were numerous, with nine Painted Ladies (below) and 25 Red Admirals (with a very notable 75 of the latter moving inland along Carr Naze the day before).

Breeding birds were out in force, and it was partucularly good to see no fewer than three singing Corn Buntings (above) as well as plenty of Skylarks (below):

Meanwhile, on the otherwise deserted clifftop, we enjoyed a private viewing of the breeding seabirds, including countless Gannets (a gorgeous third calendar year bird below)....

... while the Puffins were in full-on fight mode - we watched birds locking bills and spiralling off the cliff, breaking off just metres from impact, three times....

We rounded off with a short rockpooling session at South Landing, which was a blast (and the first time I've done so this year - but hopefully by no means the last).

Crabfest at South Landing - Velvet Swimming Crab (above), female Shore Crab (below)

Ba-ba-ba-ba-build.... House Martins, Levisham, June '25

A day surveying up on the Moors, this time a repeat visit to Levisham. Plenty to enjoy up there, but before that, an issue with parking the car; the area where I usually do so being occupied by a herd of Highland cattle, instantly threatening to use my vehicle as a scratching post - and so to plan B...

... which took me down the slope to Levisham itself, which is basically a chocolate box hamlet in a beautiful valley with the Steam railway station at it's centre. Parking the car, I had the good luck to bump into these trans-Saharan beauties collecting mud at the side of the track, and so I delayed the start of my survey to spend some time with them.

Which, as you can probably tell from the photos, was a joy - watching their mud-gathering techniques, additional forays to collect dry grass and straw, and their (mostly friendly, occasionally hostile) interactions, all while not giving a flying one about me sat a few metres away.

A fabulous way to start the day, which also got me breeding Redstart, Tree Pipit and Marsh Tit before leaving the car and hitting the moor - so thanks again to the Highland cattle, you created a very worthy diversion.