It's been a very busy autumn - as they always are these days - with guiding, surveying and the School of Birding all (happily) taking up much of the season; coupled with the fact I've been living in York for two years now, the reality is I only get a fraction of the opportunity to hit the coast compared to the preceding twelve years, when good birding began (literally) on my doorstep.
But that's life, good decisions made and no regrets, and I didn't exactly waste my time when I was there.... (For my article in British Birds magazine summarising my time living and birding at Filey, click here for a free download).
Grey Partridges, Rocket Pole Field
Scroll through my last dozen or so posts (in the right hand column) and you'll see a by-now familar autumnal mix of guiding summaries from Spurn, Flamborough and elsewhere, a School of Birding or two (usually based in the Highlands), scattered surveying days (often on the Humber or thereabouts), and then these entries - i.e., personal birding days on the coast.
Short-eared Owl arriving in off the sea on 2nd (above and below)
These are of course dependent on opportunity: not just in the sense of time off, but also in the distance involved - while a prerequisite of moving here was that we still needed to be within striking distance of the coast, there is of course no more "just nipping out for half an hour" (one of my more annoying and overused catchphrases, as my wife will doubtless testify).
So what used to be carpet-bombing is now a case of surgical strikes; hence, I appreciate my coastal birding even more. Not that I didn't during my twelve years living there, and as anyone who knows me will tell you, I'm eternally grateful for, well, every single birding opportunity I had; now, however, these opportunities are even more precious and I savour them to the hilt.
Little Egret arriving in off, 2nd
Back to the near-present, and a couple of sessions sneaked in at the end of October were pleasant dress rehearsals for this week - steadfastly blocked off on the calendar off long ago, and mercifully resistant to accepting work (the guilt-ridden curse of being self-employed).
But as regular readers will know, this is unequivocally my favourite time of year for birding on the Yorkshire coast, and I was going to bird the hell out of it, whatever the weather. Naturally, as the week approached, my checking and re-checking of the weather forecasts intensified; surely those easterlies, stretching from as far as western Russia and western Asia, wouldn't hold? Or would they?
While I've varied my choice of locations to keep life interesting in recent years, Filey has the strongest pull, for various reasons - including the fact I do plenty of autumn guiding at Spurn and Flamborough, it's the nearest coastal hotspot (under 55 mins), it's the most accessible (and birder-free) of all the best spots, and in truth, it has a birding grip on me that is nigh on impossible to loosen thus far.
Come the 2nd, and I drove through for first light, and with the winds in the north (and no apparent arrival of landbirds), I perched on the end of Carr Naze for a seawatch. A heavy passage of Kittiwakes (almost 3,000) and Little Gulls (over 300) were highlights, as were lots of Auks (including a single Little Auk), wildfowl (including two Velvet Scoters), two Med Gulls, two Great Northern Divers and more besides; after lunch, incoming arrivals included two Short-eared Owls and two Little Egrets among others.
Circuits of the clifftops and nearby cover revealed very little in the way of new arrivals, but overnight, the winds swung into the north-east as forecast - a direct line over the North Sea from Scandinavia and beyond.
A first calendar year Kittiwake over the Country Park (and my car)
Jay in off, 3rd
Back up onto Carr Naze early on (I could drive the A64 with my eyes closed at this point), and a modest selection of new arrivals on the first of many patrols - hardly the hoped-for fall (which never really came during the week), but pulses of finches, a few thrushes, and then a Jay in-off and ridiculously close.
A little while later, another patrol of the coastal path, and bang - a snowball descending from above and onto the cliff edge. Aware of how flighty freshly-arrived redpolls can be, and also of how nuanced their (sub)specific ID can be, I was praying for conclusive views before it inevitably exited the exposed runway of Carr Naze for more fruitful habitat.
Which, luckily, I managed, with a bit of stealthy fieldcraft and subsequently excellent views (if not photographs). Frosty overall, plain white undertail coverts, stonking suger-cube rump, tiny bill, distinct face pattern - Coues's Arctic Redpoll, a bird I've been trying to find here for many years. Bingo.
Two Lapland Buntings in off, a Siberian Chiffchaff in Arndale and a scattering of other migrants (including a handful of Mealy Redpolls) was otherwise as good as it got for the rest of the day, but with great views of a bird I've long since tried and failed to nail here, all was well with the world.
Back out on the 4th? Absolutely..... watch this space!
Grey Partridges (above), summer-plumaged Great Northern Diver in the bay (below)
