Review Of The Year, 2020 - Part Two

 

Common Swift - a star bird in any year, but in 2020? Read on.... 

For all the fear and loathing in the air during the spring, I was acutely aware of how fortunate I was to be marooned out here in our little corner of the North Yorkshire coast - for general wellbeing, and of course, for birding (rarely, if ever, mutually exclusive). Living in Filey has its drawbacks and the sacrifices are many, but as the plague took hold, I'd never been more grateful for living somewhere with such easily accessed habitats, wildlife and migration-related kicks.

A juvenile Long-tailed Tit, born and raised during lockdown (hence badass expression)

Existential, health and societal anxieties aside, Lockdown 1.0 provided an opportunity to adapt and get creative with my spring birding (and the luxury of spare time in general), and to rediscover the joys of full-on local patch immersion. In many ways, this worked out very much for the best, and as is so often the case, limitations can be advantageous if you look at them from the right perspective....

A local Tawny Owl 

After a promising start to the early spring at my recently-favoured visible migration point of Reighton Sands - Woodlark, Hooded Crow, Red Kite and other decent returns - access soon became impossible, it being via a holiday camp which was shut down as lockdown began. Fortunately, plan B was still very much open for business and arguably just as productive - Muston Sands, the spot I favoured for some years before experimenting and casting the net wider. It being no more than a twelve-minute walk from my front door (south along the seafront), I spent many hours there during the spring, enjoying a seriously productive, hugely enjoyable season in the process.

Common Cranes - always a huge buzz to pick up on vismig watches, however distant, and especially when arriving in off the sea 

I put in a fair few early (and some late) morning sessions there between late March and early July, which immediately began to pay out handsomely. April began with a Common Crane high and in off the sea on 4th (later enjoyed by birders further up the coast, as with various vismig highlights in spring), and then got even better on 6th, when a Red-rumped Swallow bulleted by - formerly a nemesis bird locally, now a beautiful part of the family.... more on these sessions here and here.

Red-rumped Swallow - photo courtesy of Keith at the Gap, where it thankfully put in an appearance barely a minute later

Commoner species - including finches, hirundines, pipits, larks, wagtails, thrushes, plus various shorebirds and wildfowl - were in full flow when conditions were favourable, and the scarcer bonuses kept on coming: a further two Cranes (similarly high in off and north-west) on 15th, and over the next few weeks, multiple Marsh Harriers (above), several Red Kites, Osprey, pulses of trans-Saharan migrants and a wide spectrum of other diurnally-migrating species to enjoy.

Wildfowl were often a feature during vismig, including scarcer species like this male Goosander 

All more than enough reward overall for a season confined to the immediate area - but unexpectedly, the best was still to come.....

Crossbills coasting south in the pre-dawn light at Muston Sands

The last two weeks of June were about as good - actually, significantly better - than it's ever been for sheer migration drama and spectacle in the spring / early summer locally, and it was all about the overhead flow at Muston Sands. Ridiculously early starts resulted in ridiculously wonderful vismig unfolding before our eyes, and while there was plenty of highlights to enjoy (including some scarcer highlights), it was really only about two species - Swifts and Crossbills.

Late spring and early summer can often see substantial movements of Swifts, especially given the right conditions, which are thought to involve mainly younger / non-breeding birds (huge numbers of which are present in UK and European airspace at this time of year); three- and occasionally four-figure counts here in the Filey area in late June and early July are generally what we'd hope for, often along or preceding storm fronts. From my Muston Sands viewpoint, I'd a few good counts as the month wore on - 600 on 19th, 852 on 20th, 636 on 24th, 1500 on 27th - but nothing could prepare us for the main event.....

   

 A minute's taste of one of the standout highlights of 2020 - and it went on for hours and hours.... 

It's hard to describe the events of the morning of the 28th without sliding into hyperbole, but my post of that day, and the above video clip, hopefully provide a brief insight into the thrill of watching the 16,500 that whipped past us in the five and half hours from 0410 to 0950hrs that morning.... as you might expect, it smashed local records by a long way, and it was a real pleasure to share it with good friend and vismig legend Keith C just a couple of km south at the Gap.

 

That same epic morning also provided a whole host of other species on the move, with scarcer highlights including a Turtle Dove bulleting through beneath me along thre undercliff, a Cuckoo close-up at head height, a Hobby, and 62 Crossbills....

62 Crossbills - great count, right? In any other year, absolutely - in fact it would've been exceptional here, where most are recorded in the autumn, and any - even ones and twos - are considered a bonus. With droves reported flooding out of the forests, however, we were hopeful of some coastal action if the conditions and the timings conspired. After a few handfuls on previous mornings, my first notable count came on 19th, with 22 logged; but a four-hour stint on 24th (from 0420hrs) resulted in a record-breaking 304 coasting south along the cliffs, with 412 Siskins and hundreds of Swifts...

A more in-depth look at that session can be found here, but suffice to say, it was a thrill, of which there were many during this usually doldrumy, end-of-the-season period here on the coast. As mentioned there were plenty of bonuses, and one of the best was the beautful, chocolate-barred male European Honey-buzzard that drifted in off the sea and nonchalantly right over my head on 28th....

Local 'regular' birding was similarly enjoyable. After the first five years of purposely blinkered and increasingly tail-chasing dedication to the local patch here at Filey, I've (wisely) relaxed not only my approach to birding but to any arbritary boundaries involved over recent years - hence, a generally more enjoyable and rounded birding and wildlife experience has been the standard. Lockdown, however, meant a forced temporary revisiting of my former, more obsessive practices, and - as a temporary stop-gap - it was more than fine. Spring is an erratic and unpredictable beast here, and most of my notable returns were via vismig (above) or nocmig (below), but it was good to slot back into regular circuits and routines.

European Nightjar drying off in a cave entrance (!) in the bay corner in June

 

Short-eared Owls - a good spring passage locally for this species

Juvenile Common Cuckoo on Carr Naze 

And then, of course, there was nocturnal migration recording, or Nocmig. There's way too much to talk about (and way too many highlights) to fit into this post, and so I'll be posting a seperate Nocmig 2020 summary shortly, but with lockdown taking hold, dusting off an old hand-held sound recorder, jamming it into the crack of my open study window and pointing it into the back alley here in downtown Filey was one of my easiest, and yet most profoundly game-changing, decisions of the year. (You can read about April's highlights here, and May's here).

Barn Owl at Flamborough Lighthouse during early morning Breeding Bird Surveys there

Spring waders on the Brigg (above - Purple Sandpiper, below - Turnstone, Common Sandpiper and a photobombing Purp)

I was also fortunate enough to be able to work (albeit at a reduced rate) during lockdown, with a season of Breeding Bird Surveys to conduct across Flamborough Head. They were, as you might expect, an absolute pleasure, heightened by near-deserted locations and almost entirely undisturbed surveying sessions. Collateral on my circuits included early Grasshopper Warbler, Firecrest, Channel Wagtail and others, as well as a quick diversion for a rather smart Brown Shrike, just a couple of hundred metres from one of my plots....

A male White Wagtail I found on territory on the southern edge of the town late in the season 

So, for the (small) sacrifices necessary to keep it (very) local throughout the spring, it was a memorable and indeed record-breaking season here in Filey.....

... and a few days later and it'd get a lot better still.

A local Peregrine checking out the vismig 

Part 3 to follow soon.

Humber Sun, 22nd Dec 2020

Lots of surveying on the Humber at the moment (and a lot more to come), but today was a rare day - the sun came out....

.... and hence so did the camera for a while. Plenty of action, including the species pictured - Wigeon, Lapwing, Curlew, Fieldfare and clouds of a multi-thousand strong flock of Golden Plovers.

Review Of The Year, 2020 - Part One

Goldcrest (top) and Firecrest, illuminated by some welcome winter sunshine here in Filey 

Welcome to the first part of the traditional end-of-year look back over the previous twelve months. Somewhat more, er, eventful than generally antipicated, wasn't it....? It's been a year of, well, insert your own buzzword here; I'm going with adaptation, I think - descriptive, just about covers it all, and is ultimately, underlyingly positive.

Hibernans European Stonechat - a regular presence locally in the early spring...

... and a candidate rubicola I found holding territory at Gristhorpe Bay in mid-late March 

Anyhow, if you're still here, I hope you're healthy and happy, and I hope you were able to get as much pleasure and sanctuary from birds and wildlife over the course of the year as I did. Here's a run-through some of those sanity-maintaining highlights, beginning in January.

Early vismig rewards - Hooded Crow and Red Kite, Reighton Sands 

With a frankly wonderful 2019 behind me and what looked like an equally adventure- and travel-rich 2020 ahead, it all seemed so, well, normal as I enjoyed sifting through a rare sight here in the Filey area, a winter Bunting flock, on temporarily fertile soil near the Tip. No whiff of Pine, unfortunately, but Yellowhammers into three figures was a (sadly exceptional) treat locally these days:

A relatively benign first couple of months of the year weather-wise produced no notable winter movements, but plenty of enjoyable local birding was augmented by forest forays with Pearson Snr, plenty of time up and down the coast from Ravenscar to Flamborough, early season vismigging, seawatching and bay-checking, and plenty of work-related adventures, from Winter Swan Surveys in the Lower Derwent Valley to (many days) surveying on both banks of the Humber.

Those ongoing surveys on the Humber provided great winter birding and a sense of welcome normality as the unthinkable steadily became a tangible threat; there's nothing quite like shimmering, swirling clouds of shorebirds against brutalist industrial backdrops to prepare you for an apocalypse. I remember filming the Curlew below along the shore at Killingholme, posting it on social media with the caption 'Plod on, no matter how sticky the mud gets', and watching it strike a nerve with many ....

   

The Humber surveys also provided opportunities for diversionary mini-twitches, which included the long-staying (and very smart) male Black-throated Thrush by a busy roundabout in Grimsby among other decent distractions:

Black-throated Thrush, Grimsby 

March was, by all accounts, a shitstorm of impending chaos and doom (some preventable, some not), and it wasn't long before reality bit - this wasn't going to be just a bump in the road. Shelves emptied faster than anywhere here in Filey (one small supermarket, a mostly-retired population) and panic-buying seemed like a suitably deranged reflection of the public mood; the landscape changed on a daily, sometimes hourly basis, and the year's plans, work, trips and adventures began falling off the conveyor belt, one by one.

Grey Phalarope, Flamborough, February 

But, it was also a time of taking stock, on an equally regular basis: still alive, unlikely to starve, privileged to live in an affluent part of the world with the much-maligned, suddenly-lauded blessing of a National Health Service (despite the long-term best efforts of the monsters at the wheel), great friends, family and wider community, and most importantly in the context of these posts, grade A access to nature and birds.

When the simple act of a watching common birds build their nests became some kind of profoundly grounding experience - Blackbirds....

Robins....

... and Wrens all unwittingly providing a welcome Carry-On-Regardless narrative 

The end of March, of course, is traditionally #COTF Race Week in the Negev desert, the culmination of efforts over previous months for the world's greatest bird race, Champions Of The Flyway. Regular readers will know it's much more than just a bird race, however; regular readers will also know that, after a couple of memorable years as a very enthusiastic participant, I've been part of the back-room operations since mid-2018. As Digital Media Co-ordinator and Team Support, it's a role to relish, leading up to an always wonderfully manic, bird-filled, sun-soaked celebration of the cause in southern Israel.

Race Day 2020 - Nubian Ibex? Nope, Roe Deer 

The aformentioned conveyor belt took care of that, of course, agonisingly close to the wire; but, I'm proud to say, we adapted and made the very best of it, in the shape of a global Celebration Day. By reaching out to our worldwide community (and some creative marketing - #ChampionsOfTheDriveway, anyone?), we kept the pedal to the metal with fundraising and gospel-spreading, and turned Race Day itself into an interconnected celebration of lockdown birding and the birds that unite us.

Bottlenose Dolphins celbrating COTF Race Day in Filey Bay 

I could bang on about it for much longer (you can read more here and here), but suffice to say, it was genuinely inspiring and life-affirming bright light in the ever-growing darkness of early spring. I spent the day on a lockdown loop within 2km of my front door, clocking up as many species as possible for the 'race' (while also in the midst of running the live comms via mobile and cold thumbs), and it was a special day for many reasons, not least, the greatly heightened personal appreciation of the wildlife on my doorstep.

"Gods, give me a sign!"

Top of that list (although the pod of frolicking Bottlenose Dolphins in the bay came close) were undoubtedly the two Northern Wheatears - the first of the year - that I was on the Brigg to greet back from Africa as the afternoon sun began to fade. A fitting bookend to a challenging, but ultimately successful and hugely inspiring Champions campaign that (incredibly) raised more than $40,000 for Steppe Eagle conservation on the ground. 

"thanks"

The spring proper would prove to be a memorable one, thankfully for mainly positive reasons - part two to follow soon. 

Nocmig Update, Nov 2020 - Filey

Just when you thought it was safe to close the study window.....

Four figures of November Nocmig Pink-feet, in dozens of flocks....  

After a great autumn so far, the expectancy was for nocturnal migration to tail off somewhat in November, on account of a drop in species abundance and diversity, and also suitable and/or encouraging conditions. For the latter, running the home recorder takes almost zero effort, but the North Cliff recorder involves more faff for often much-decreased returns; thus, most of November's focus was on the sky above our little corner of the town, with a few notable exceptions.

   

Filey Town 

The hopes, then, were for some significant Scandinavian thrush arrivals (if conditions conspired), perhaps a few more Pink-footed Geese, and a smattering of late autumn shorebirds; anything else would be a bonus, especially after such a productive first autumn (and spring). The month started out placidly enough, with a few nights of just a handful of thrushes, and then kicked in with a very large Pink-foot flock on 4th and further large flocks on the 5th, when a flock of Barnacle Geese and a Whooper Swan co-starred; further additions over these nights included Golden Plover, Dunlin, and Common and Black-headed Gulls.

 

Night of a thousand Blackbirds.... 

 

... and many a wheezy Fieldfare 

 Two nights later, and the 8th was an absolute blinder. At least twenty species (so much for reduced diversity...), from various ducks to a whole heap of waders (including e.g. four Grey Plovers, 59+ Dunlins, Snipe, Curlews and more), to the hoped-for major late-season major thrush arrival: 1041 Blackbird, 956 Redwing, 12 Song Thrush and 56 Fieldfare registrations were doubtless a fraction of the masses actually arriving (particularly re: Fieldfares, which clearly call a great less in nocmig than their congeners), but made for a busy and very productive sono....

 

The following night (9th) continued the theme, with similarly impressive species abundance and variety, with additional large flocks of Pink-feet, plus Water Rail, Skylark, and tallies of 989 Blackbirds and 504 Redwings among others. A few night's relative calm (handfuls of thrushes and waders) was again seriously disrupted on 13th, with the calls of a much rarer, much less anticipated Arctic Anser species - a large flock of White-fronted Geese, no less, along with multiple flocks of Pink-feet, two flocks of Common Scoters, (yet another) Whooper Swan and much more within another bumper night for variety and numbers.

White-fronts - much scarcer by day!  

Getting definitive White-fronted Geese calls on the sono was a particular pleasure, not least because the Anser geese are especially hard to ID unless you get good, clear, unmistakable recordings, and also because the ongoing influx of scarcer winter geese into southern and eastern England gave us extra impetus to check thoroughly.

   

Strong winds and stormy nights continued to dominate through mid-month - messy, bar-code-like sonograms, and poor migrating conditions - and yet, the birds kept moving; small numbers of thrushes were a given, as were odd, hardy waders, but once again, it was the geese that stole the show. Multiple flocks (and three figures) of Pink-feet dominated the night skies on 17th, followed by another flock of White-fronts on 18th - fewer, but lower, nearer and clearer - as well as more Whooper Swans.... 

 

 ... which would've been quite enough, but an even more unexpected nocmig prize honked hoarsely over the rootops on 21st - a small flock of Tundra Bean Geese. Again, with the variation of calls inherent in the Anser family's NFCs, it needed checking carefully (including with those who're much more familar and adept in this area), but Beans they were, completing a totally unexpected goose species bonanza in just a few late autumn days of Filey nocmigging. Wonderful.

Beans means highs

 

A few nights of relative calm followed (if yet more large, noisy skeins of Pink-feet can be described as such), but then the conditions calmed, too, both here and on the other side of the North Sea - encouraging further large pulses of thrushes and other late autumn migrants. Blackbirds were particularly numerous in the last days of the month, with three figures on most nights, peaking at 417 on 27th. 

And yet there was still more to come: two flocks of Common Scoters among more waders, thrushes and Pinks on 28th, an then a wonderfully busy sono the following night (29th) included my third flock of White-fronted Geese for the month, no fewer than 14 (!) flocks of Pink-footed Geese, Common Scoters, yet more Whooper Swans, thrushes and waders - a fittingly busy end to a month that greatly exceeded all expectations.  

Filey North Cliff

As mentioned, convenience, opportunity and suitable conditions (or rather a lack thereof) meant that I ran the North Cliff recorder far more sparingly; recordings were confined to two runs of several nights apiece, at the beginning and then the end of the month. Both were very productive, and after a similarly quiet start to the month with a few thrushes and the odd wader, the goose bonanza soon paid out, big time....

To say Pink-feet were numerous during this month's nocmig, both here and over the town, would be an understatement, and we're logging far, far more than we'd hoped for; and that's just the (inevitably extremely low) estimates made on the basis of calling birds (imagine the actual numbers involved). After the above night (White-front, 10 flocks of Pinks, Whooper), the next evening had a further ten flocks of Pinks, more Whoopers and plenty of other bits, and then the next (7th) was pleasingly varied, including at least six Bramblings:

The night of the 8th - one of huge thrush arrivals over the town (see above) - was fascinating, and reflected one of the reasons I've been running the two recorders simultaneously when possible. The North Cliff recorder, 1.3km north of my study recorder, has its obvious strengths and advantages of course, as explored on these pages before - but on this particular evening, those strengths clearly lay in the mean streets of Filey Town...

... or, perhaps more specifically, in the combination of drizzle, thick mist, and artificial electric light, creating a target 'island' for the masses of arriving thrushes in aim for, in the absence of any other visual clues. To compare, here's the totals from the North Cliff (see also the small print:)

The final run of recordings up on the North Cliff, from 26th to 29th inclusive, showed classic late autumn migrants - Blackbirds, Redwings, Snipe (below), Wigeon, Dunlin, etc - were all still very much on the move, as well as adding yet more flocks of Pink-feet, and to close out the month, a further two flocks of White-fronted Geese on the final recording.

What a month.....!

Winter Birding Discovery Day, 5th Dec 2020

 

Today was the first of eight Winter Birding Discovery Days I'm guiding for Yorkshire Coast Nature over the next couple of months, and we got off to a flier... Blessed with decent weather (including sunshine!), we focused - as I'm sure I will throughout - on Scarborough and Filey. 

Scarborough instantly provided with a close-up, personal show from the local Peregrines, squabbling, displaying and generally showing off beautifully for us; a ridiculously close Great Northern Diver at the harbour mouth, plus Turnstones around our feet, Common Scoters, Red-throated Divers, lots of auks and more made for a great morning session.

A lunch break en route at Holbeck meant sharing our sandwiches with pristine Mediterranean Gulls, before heading the fifteen minutes back to Filey for a session in the bay and Brigg area.

A fine afternoon ensued, with close-up Purple Sandpipers and Black Redstart along the bay side, another close Great Northern Diver by the Brigg, Eiders, Common Scoters, a pair of Long-tailed Ducks, various other winter specialities, and a killer rainbow to end the day.