200 birds or bust!

A UK life list of 213 species is a pretty meagre return for the number of years I have been birding (albeit probably a fair reflection of my stop-start commitment and general lack of expertise).

OK, so there are some good birds on the list: rarities (like Ring-necked Duck); beauties (like drake Smew); lurkers (Jack Snipe); creatures of the night (Nightjar) and childhood ambitions (Great Grey Shrike).

But with no new birds added since a Black-necked Grebe at Napton Reservoir in 2012, my life list had become distinctly moribund and in urgent need of some fresh impetus.

It was this realisation that led directly to a sudden decision to aim for the not inconsiderable number of 200 species during 2018. The target, inspired by a regular feature in Birdwatching magazine, seems to me improbable if not absurd; but that really isn't the point. The point is that I needed a kick up the arse to get out and bird more often, and this seemed as good a kick as any.

And the early report is that while I'm sure I'm already miles short of the target, I'm absolutely loving the attempt.

First up was Draycote Reservoir in early January for one of the long-staying Hawfinches (already seen over the Xmas holiday period, but needed again for this 2018 list), plus Tree Sparrow (sadly a bird that is all too easy to miss out on these days).

Next was Middleton Lakes RSPB - two consecutive Sunday trips offering up goodies including Red Kite, Pintail, Stonechat, Water Rail and Great White Egret - the latter my first lifer for more than five years!

(214 species and counting...)

A family walk along the Oxford Canal at Wormleighton turned up a Brambling (well pleased with that one, my first for many years), and a lunchtime stroll near my office revealed a pair of Mandarin drakes hidden in a lakeside creek.


Even some increased effort in garden feeding came up trumps as I spotted on the feeders my first Blackcap of the year (a now semi-regular female), plus my first ever garden Lesser Redpoll.

Five weeks in and I've recorded 73 birds - not a huge number, but many more than I would normally have noted by now. And, much more importantly, I've already enjoyed a dozen or more very special moments as a result of the challenge: from the GWE lifer to the self-found Brambling; from the rush of an unexpected Red Kite to the discovery of a community of Brown Hares within a mile of my house (and the repeated pleasure of visiting them whenever I can find a free half-hour).

So will I reach 200? Probably not, though you never know. But will I enjoy getting there (or not)? Just about guaranteed I'd say.

Bird of the month: Great White Egret (Ardea alba) - a magnificent bird, essentially a white version of our familiar Grey Heron (similar size, shape and movement). Far scarcer than the now familiar Little Egret, the GWE winters in the UK in modest - albeit slowly growing - numbers.

Getting away from dip, dip, dip, dip

After a week-and-a-bit of repeatedly dipping Napton's bearded tits (still not seen them after four, possibly five, visits) it was nice just to amble around Brandon Marsh with no particular agenda.

It was a decent session in the end, but blimey was it hard work to start with. The high wind didn't help, although thankfully we missed out on the forecast heavy rain. But the main challenge was finding any birds to get the pulse racing.

Out on East Marsh the winter wildfowl dominated - a handful of mallards and five tufties were overwhelmed by autumn incomers, with 40+ shoveler, 70+ teal and perhaps as many as 120 wigeon. Most welcome they were too, since when there's not much else on I can easily while away the hours watching, and listening to, a big flock of wigeon.

There were just three lapwing on the marsh, although later in the day 100+ did wheel in low overhead.

A long stint in the Ted Jury Hide produced absolutely nothing beyond a close-in moorhen which became my object of interest for 20 minutes or so as it picked its way through the water-weeds looking for morsels to eat. 

Fortunately things livened up on the walk back.

First a marsh tit 'sneezed' and then showed well as I left the hide. Then a little diversion down to the Riverpool Hide turned up a lesser redpoll, a good size tit flock and a kestrel. From the hide I caught a tantalising glimpse of a drake duck which was just a little too plain  in the face and a little too grey to be a mallard - almost certainly a female pintail.

Just before I reached the visitor centre a little gang of five siskin stopped beside me, and at the feeders there were reed bunting, coal tits and a nuthatch (sadly the brambling, with I definitely wasn't looking for *crosses fingers* didn't turn up).

Bird of the day: Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus) - we are all of us I'm sure guilty of being blinded to the majesty of this waterbird by its sheer ubiquity. But from it's blue-black head and bellow to its buff-brown back, from its pristine white tail to its glorious red-and-yellow bill, it's a stunner that birders can rely on from park pond to windswept nature reserve.

Winter bounty

Inspired by Thursday's siskins I looked around (thank you yet again, internet) for a likely spot for some rarer winter finds. Inevitably I alighted on Draycote Reservoir.

Sooooo, it's 7.30am at a still-dark reservoir. The conditions are barbaric - close to zero, a scything north-westerly wind, driving icy rain, and a thin covering of snow underfoot. I'll be honest - at this point I am not a happy bunny.

But then, bang on cue, the honking of geese. There, exactly where expected in the fields between Farborough Bank and the sewage treatment plant, is a mixed flock of perhaps 300 geese. Mainly canada and greylag of course, but if I scan them closely enough...

The rather splendid Anser albifrons (photo: webted)

Ten minute later I had lost all feeling in my feet. Eleven minutes later this had ceased to matter as I found my first target, a lone pink-footed goose. Another minute on and I'd lost it again, with that treacherous voice in my head now thinking 'maybe it was just a small greylag in poor light'. 

And a few minutes later, while trying to relocate the pink-footed at the other end of the flock, I finally tracked down my second targets - a pair of white-fronted geese.

As ever, the weather and the early start and the sheer insanity of it all suddenly ceased to matter.

The pink-footed goose is of course splendid and rather uncommon in these parts (fields full of them in Norfolk of course, but that's not much good all the way over here). But the white-fronted is an even more marvellous proposition: beautifully black-striped across the belly at this time of year; pretty rare away from its normal wintering grounds (Slimbridge being perhaps the most important); and, most importantly on a morning like this, a county tick for yours truly.

I was on a roll, so perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised at the way my third target came to hand. 

For some reason the reports of pintail (numbers unknown) near the inlet had me looking for a striking (and unmissable) male bird out on the water. So I had reason to be grateful that I took the time to scan a small flock of female mallards at the water's edge, for it was here that I found the subtle and oh-so-easily-overlooked female pintail dabbling with her browner and more coarsely marked mallard sisters.

Any disappointment I may have felt in finding a greyish (if handsome) female in place of the stunning drake was soon dispelled by the nearby goosanders - good numbers of male and female birds, both striking of plumage, and another year tick.

Bird of the day: White-fronted goose (Anser albifrons), presumably (assuming not escapees from a collection) two of the Russian birds which would normally overwinter at Slimbridge.