Waiting for Godwit - Killingholme, July '25

Back on the industrial south bank of the Humber at Killingholme yesterday for our ongoing surveys, and it's that time of year when the first main wave of Black-tailed Godwits touch down - resplendent in their orange, black and white breeding plumage.

Well Red - Cumbria, July '25

Male Common Redstart - shepherding just fledged young, and so very tame..

A whirlwind 48 hours in Cumbria over the weekend, ostensibly for two Breeding Bird Surveys, meaning early starts and plenty of time to explore locally with the Mrs along for the ride.

 

Time out from bird surveys here in Cumbria to breakfast with the local Red Squirrels... #ukwildlife #ukmammals

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— Mark James Pearson (@markthebirder.bsky.social) 5 July 2025 at 12:46

We'd heard Red Squirrels were a star fixture around our accommodation; we didn't expect quite so many, however, or for them to be quite so tame and entertaining.....

Regular readers will know of our fascination with neolithic sites and cultures, and fortunately we were close to a very special one - Long Meg and her Daughters, a huge stone circle (the third widest in the UK) and a site of the early Neolithic, up to 3800 BCE. That's almost 6,000 years ago..... 

Long Meg herself (positioned to cast a perfect long shadow straight through the centre of the circle on the winter solstice) is of a vibrant red sandstone, with megalithic art of spirals, circles and concentric arcs. A wonderful place.

Redstarts, Red Squirrels, Red Sandstone? Well red, indeed.

Curlews on the Moors, June '25

(Please click on photos to view) 

A few from a recent survey up on the moors, where Curlews were very much omnipresent (and wouldn't let me forget it...) - great parenting, if slightly annoying, which is kind of the point. The chicks were close by but I got out of their way as soon as I could.

Saker Falcon - Flamborough 27th June '25

(all photos unedited but for cropping and a little sharpening  -click to enlarge) 

Edit - the bird is apparently ringed.... still, a pretty smart beast nonetheless!

A very brief post on a quick break from guiding here at Flamborough (which began this morning and ends late this evening) - in the midst of which, this beautiful beast bulleted by over the cliffs, in from the east and inland at North Landing....

... I was fortunate to have the camera to hand - and fortunate to scramble and shoot at it successfully (as opposed to being a more conscientious guide ...) - and after sending the photos to friends and experts who know better than I, the consensus is for juvenile Saker: most pertinently from Dick Forsmann, who confirms it as such.

Nocmig update - Wigginton, spring 2025

Please use headphones for sound clips

 

After moving here to the northern suburbs of York last summer, I began nocturnal migration sound-recording (nocmig) - with an mp3 player in a cling-film-covered plant pot, or (when away) a pre-programmed Audiomoth - from our small back garden throughout last autumn, which turned out to be very productive (see here); thus, this spring was my first one recording here, and (tech issues aside), it was also more than worthwhile, with some great results and nice surprises.

 

I began recording in February - seven nights at the end of the month - which produced skeins of Pink-footed Geese on 22nd, two Water Rails on 26th, Wigeon and Teal on 22nd and 24th respectively, Redwings into double figures on most nights, and Moorhen, Coot, Song Thrush and Oystercatcher also registering.

  

March lived up to its billing as often the most productive spring nocmig month, with good quality and quantity. A calling Woodcock over on 3rd was one of the most surprising (and contextually rare) records of the year, with other waders including Golden Plovers on four nights, a Lapwing on 8th and a scattering of Curlews throughout the month.

  

Northbound wildfowl were represented by Pink-footed Geese on 2nd, 7th (four skeins), 17th (several large flocks), 18th and 25th, and Whooper Swans moving on 7th and 23rd, while Wigeon and Teal featured on three nights each, in the latter half of the month. A push of Common Gulls involved at least 18 birds on 24th, with Water Rails, Coot, Moorhens and Grey Herons all figuring. Passerine interest was provided by regular thrushes (especially Redwings), Robins on three nights and a Skylark on 9th.

 

The story of the month, however, was unquestionably the excellent and sustained Common Scoter migration, as birds left the Irish Sea, crossed Yorkshire and headed for the North Sea (and then onwards to breeding grounds) in the early spring window. It being my first spring recording here, I knew that geographically I was potentially well-placed for some cross-country nocturnal scoter action, but with the variables of flightlines and weather conditions, I couldn't be sure just how much activity would occur over my recorder.

  

As it turns out, I needn't have worried. Early flocks on 4th and 8th precursed the flood of activity over the last week of the month - a single flock on 23rd was followed by a fantastic 25 flocks on 24th, which was then followed by an even better 34 flocks on 25th; a further six flocks on 26th and three flocks on 27th was followed by another 25 flocks on the night of 28th, six on 30th, and one on 31st, totalling an impressive 113 flocks for the month. 

 

After such a productive March, April was somewhat of a comedown (even factoring in the ten days lost due to Audiomoth issues). Expected species such as Redwings, Song Thrushes, Moorhens, Little Grebes, Water Rails (totalling five) and Coot all registered, with wader passage confined to two Common Sandpipers on 19th, large flocks of Oystercatchers on 1st and the odd Curlew and Golden Plover.

  

The night of the 26th, however, showed how pulses of nocturnal migration can on occasion reflect arrivals diurnally - within 30 minutes (between 0224 and 0251hrs), Lesser Whitethroat, Ring Ouzel and Blackcap all overflew the recorder, followed by a spike of long distance migrants on the coast and inland the following morning. Funny how after a very unremarkable month, half an hour can make all the effort worthwhile! A second Blackcap for the spring was recorded on 29th.

 

May is often much quieter for nocmig than the early spring, and (combined with another Audiomoth malfunction costing over a week) so it transpired; the only notable registrations included Whimbrels on 5th and 14th, Common Scoters and Common Sandpiper on 19th, and Spotted Flycatcher and Golden Plover on 20th. 

 

By the time June rolls around, nocmig possibilities recede greatly, and it's really all about the chance of the odd quality long shot - thus, it's not always worth the hassle, especially if conditions are poor. But, as I was around (and the shortness of the nights make them very quick to analyse), I put out the recorder with suitable low (no) expectations. As it turns out, a very good move....

 

A night's recording on 6th produced a single Curlew, before another try on 12th scored with exactly what I'd hoped for - my first Quail for the site. The following night - 13th - amazingly provided another Quail, and then the next (15th), an even bigger score - at least two Avocets chipping away as they passed over our suburb. A rare York bird, I'd assume, and one which I'd tried and failed for five years to pick up on the coast.... 

 

More was still to come, with a Dunlin and a very late Redwing on 16th, Black-headed Gulls on 17th and 20th, Grey Heron on 18th, Oystercatcher and Curlew on 19th, and a flock of at least three Common Sandpipers on 23rd. 

 

An excellent end to a productive first spring recording here. (And with a week still to go, maybe still a footnote to add!)

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.