Sunday
16th
October strong to gale force SE heavy rain AM
It
is very early morning and a gale is blowing outside. Heavy rain is
forecast so, feeling a little stir crazy, I text The Oracle with
birding lyrics inspired by some of my favourite comedy music from the
distant past.......
Hello
Mudder
Hello
Fadder
Here
I am at Grutness Harbour
Here
on Shetland
A
gale is blowing
And
the rain falls hard so nowhere I'll be going.
It
seems ages
I've
been stuck here
Bike
is broken
Weather
I fear
No
boat coming
From
the Fair Isle
I'll
just wait and sing my songs which are so puerile.
Take
me home
Oh
Mudder, Fadder
I'll
not roam.
Won't
go no farther
Can't
one see that cycling's hurting me
Only
sardines for my tea.
(
Then
there's the old folk music classic . . .
Oh
I'm going to the Fairest isle
I
go there every Autumn
I
search for birds
From
dawn to dusk
And
cry when I don't find them
And
then a silly song with a wink to Charlie Drake.....
On
the distant isle of Shetland
just
a few days ago.
A
first for Britain bird had left the hill
To
where we do not know
I've
got a lot of trouble Hugh
On
account of a birding lack
Now
tell me what's your trouble Gaz
The
accentor won't come back
The
accentor won't come back?
The
accentor won't come back
The
accentor won't come back
I've
walked the hill all over that place
searched
in stingers right into my face.
But
of the sibe there's just no trace
The
accentor won't come back
The
pied wheatear was good
Yeah
The bunting was too
Yeah,
yeah
but
the accentor is better than both of those two
The
accentor won't come back
They
banished him off to Fair Isle
Great
birds for him to see
He
had to list some new birds soon
The
champion then he'd be
This
is nice innit?
Getting
banished at my time of life.
What
a way to spend an evening.
Sitting
by a geo on the edge of a cliff with some bins in my hand.
I
shall very likely get pushed off!
Baaaaaaa
aaarhahhhh
Geroutofit
Nasty
woolly animal
Think
I'll make a nice cup of tea,
bonk,
bonk, bonk, bonk.
Good
gracious. There's goes a nice great skua.
Must
have a practice with my binoculars.
Look
at him as he flies past,
Now
slowly to my eyes and . . .
If
you look at me I'll bonk you right on your head.
Ak
ak ak ak
Aint
it marvellous?
An
isle covered in bonxies and I have to choose that one.
For
three long hours he sat there
or
slept 'til it was four
Then
an old, old man in a Sunderland shirt
Told
him not to snore
“Now
I'm the Fair Isle warden boy
They
call me Sunderland Jack
Now
tell me what's your trouble boy
The
accentor won't come back!
The
accentor won't come back?
The
accentor won't come back
The
accentor won't come back
I've
walked the hill all over that place
searched
in stingers right into my face.
But
of the sibe there's just no trace
The
accentor won't come back
Don't
worry Prez
I
know the bird
It's
here
To
you I'll show it.
If
you want to see the accentor lift your bins
It's
there
you
know it?
Oh
yeah.
Never
thought of that
Daddy
will be pleased.
(giggle)
Must
have a go.
Excuse
me.
Now
slowly up and . . look.
Oh
my Gawd
It's
just a dunnock
Can
you find a Sibe accentor
Don't
talk to me about a Sibe accentor Gaz
You
owe me for showing you the dunnock
I
learnt you for using your binoculars.
First
thing first.
Yeah
I know that
but
I think that on this occasion … . . .
(fade
and end)
The
rain still pours outside, the gale still blows and sea froth is
flying past la fenetre. One last song........
Oh,
Any new birds?
Any
new birds?
Any
new birds on Fair Isle?
It
looks neat
a
new bird is a treat
It
would be special and would get me off my seat
I'm
dressed in style
Haven't
washed for a while
With
my father's old green shirt on.
No
I wouldn't give you tuppence for an old moorhen
Let's
find birds
Some
new birds
Just
a week or two ago
Whilst
on 2 and 99
Dave
found an olive pip
I
thought that would be find
So
next day I popped along
to
see the Sibe I hoped
Saw
Lee Gregory
Using
his 'scope.
I
rushed along
Pushed
him out the way
Thought
I saw the pipit
and
I began to pray
I
rushed around and saw the bird
300
on the list
A
lot of birders followed me
They
thought that I was ****ed.
Oh,
any new birds?
Any
new birds?
Any
new birds on Fair Isle?
It
looks neat
this
new bird is a treat
It's
really special and has got me off my seat.
dressed
in style
Haven't
washed for a while
With
my father's old green shirt on.
No
I wouldn't give you tuppence for an old moorhen
Let's
find birds
Some
new birds
And
now The Oracle would like to give you a hoopoe call
Go
on Phil
I
would like to continue this birding list that you've just heard with
my hoopoe. Thank you.
Hoo
hoo poo
hoo
hoo poo
pooooooo
Oh
temperamental ain't he!
WAIT
A MINUTE......... a phone call from, coincidentally, The
Oracle......note a phone call . . . not a text. This means a good
bird.
Isabelline
wheatear, Near the Loch of Spiggie.
Forget
the fact that a gale is blowing and it is raining hard, it is another
very rare wheatear. I need it.
The
wind blows me there, well almost. It blows me along until I reach the
northern shore of the large loch. Then it is a case of head into the
wind and push until I get to the road junction where the rare bird
has been seen.
I
arrive. Six other birders are there. “It is in my 'scope,” says
one.
Isabelline
wheatear,
bird number 304.
A small looking wheatear, rather a dull overall appearance with a
rusty peach colour on the breast except for feathers that are
displaced by the water from the rain and terrain. Long black legs,
creamy throat with a black bill and eyes, pale underparts. I need to
see the tail pattern.
The
bird keeps walking around the edge of this manured field.
Photographers go closer. The bird flies briefly.
Job
done, I can relax and two of the birders, Marco from London and Peter
from the Cairngorms; the latter I met on last year's trip as I
searched his area for ptarmigan successfully, chat and take a few
photographs of a bedraggled but very happy me. Great pair.
Roger
Riddington, the British Birds magazine editor arrives and
congratulates me on reaching 300. He even pats me on my back!
Time
to search elsewhere, I head off into the wind finding a flock of
around fifty barnacle geese down by the polluted loch. No fishing or
bathing (!) here, too polluted. How sad. No actually, how appalling!
Back
onto the main road towards Sumburgh I have to push up hills to make
any headway into the wind. Near to the top of one a bus driver,
Dougie, stops to ask if I would like a lift. I thank him for his
kindness and tell him that I cannot accept the offer. Just before
that another Dougie had stopped his car to tell me that he was
following my progress and was a Facebook friend, Dougie Preston.
Brief encounters such as these really keep me going. Wonderful
people.
Waders
on the beach at Virkie are the usual candidates; redshank,
sanderling, dunlin and turnstone.
Down
and around Scatness, thrushes, mostly redwings. Also blackcaps,
blackbirds and chiff chaffs.
Into
the Sumburgh Hotel and a cup of coffee given free. I must be looking
bad. A tad tired I am grateful for it. That will be a donation and I
note that down in my notebook. In fact I need to collate the
donations from the last couple of days. There's money for the
chocolate bar found on the bike, money for this coffee, a donation
from a couple, who say they saw me on BBC Springwatch last year,
named Margaret and Martin from Cambridge, Paul Sclater and Michael.
An
evening in the bar of the hotel before retiring to my 'abode' was
great with bloke-ish company of locals and workers from Glasgow mixed
together sharing banter. One of them, Neil, offers a drink but as I
have only £2.09 I can't accept the offer as I wouldn't be able to
reciprocate. The problem is with my bank. They are unable to transfer
money from my savings to my current over the phone. Apologies are
given by the customer service staff and even advice sought from
advisers but to no avail.
Tea
later was sandwich spread and Marmite on bread.... yummy!
Monday
17th
October strong to gale force SE dry and cloudy
Up
Sumburgh Head after searching the Grutness garden and quarries along
the road to the former first. In the first quarry I find a barred
warbler and text Phil, The Oracle to place news of the bird on RBA
(Rare Bird Alert)
Dan
Poignton turns up and the warbler flies out between us. “Oh, you've
found the barred then.” He had found sometime before me.
Robins
and thrushes are on the dry stone walls and in the fields; birds are
moving.
Getting
up to the RSPB Lighthouse, after stopping to photograph Darth Vader
of course, is extremely difficult due to the gale. Snow flake sea
suds are flying in a tempest past me as I struggle to get up the
steep climb. Past the fibre glass orca, I eventually get to the to
top and view down the right hand geo. Three bramblings are feeding
down there and a few goldcrests and blackcaps. More of the same, with
robins, thrushes and blackbirds are in the revamped Lighthouse
garden. A lot of money has been spent on the area and lighthouse
buildings and despite everything being closed due to the lateness of
the season, it is amazing to stand on platforms looking over to
Scatness Bay and beyond.
Nowadays
there are even self-catering apartments and in one of them are three
very attractive young ladies, Jill, Andrea and Catherine. There first
time here and with no car, they ask about what is local and of
interest and I tell them of Shetland's best Viking spot, Harlshof and
a couple more archaeological sires including Old Scatness. Selfies
are taken.
I
knock on the window of the RSPB office and meet Helen again, a superb
RSPB staff member. Great to be re-acquainted.
Outside
again, I meet Martin who works at monitoring seabirds and the effects
of the local oil industry. Martin gives a donation and tells me about
how any oil found on bird carcases can be identified to the country
and even the field of origin.
A
text from The Oracle,
White's
thrush at Spiggie Hotel.
An
hour or so later I am there to find that the inimitable Dan Poignton
has found the bird, that it has flown off and everyone is searching
for it.
Dan
heads off across the valley to Scousborouh and I go the garden where
it was originally seen. I knock on the door of the house belonging to
the garden's owner and give the owner, a lovely lady called Jemyna, a
chocolate bar and say thank you for letting birders search around.
Jemyna chats, OK and so do I, about birds, the history of the area,
especially the history of the hotel and her own family history. She
tells me that her interest is in finding out about this and that she
has managed to go back to the 1850s. Jemyna remembers meeting my late
best friend, Gordon Barnes when he used to stay there in the 1960s
and I tell her that when I return to Fair Isle I will buy Gordon's
book and post it to her.
Off
in search of the White's again, I find yellow-browed warblers and
other common migrants. A moorhen is my most unusual find as it
scampers into a tunnel beneath a huge pile of manure when it spots
me.
Meeting
up with Dan again, with the White's no where to be found, I complain.
“You
find a White's thrush, I find a moorhen!”
I
may have said it before but Dan Poignton is a phenomenal young
birder, one of the best bird finders in Britain. Tireless and
immense,I can only stand and admire his strength and skills,
knowledge and drive.
Cycling/pushing
towards the main road a large car stops and out pops Logan, the young
birder I had met a couple of times on Fair Isle. He was hoping to see
the White's thrush. He is with an ex-South African, Paula. Paula
empties her purse of coins into my collection boxes (hint!) and gives
me a small cuddly owl to join in the company of heroes on the bike.
“Call him Spiggie,” I am instructed.
Logan
has something to show me, a sadly dead Northern form of the
long-tailed tit. With it's pure white head it is wonderful to hold
one but oh, for a live one; a real ambition bird. Logan will become a
superb birder one day. With Paul Harvey's old binoculars around his
neck, a South Shetland megastar birder, he can't go wrong. To be in
the presence of extremely talented and famous birders such as Paul
Harvey, Roger Riddington, Steve Minton, Nick Diamond etc. on South
Shetland as well as the superb Fair Isle Bird Observatory team of
David Parnaby, Cairan, Chris and Lee, and the ex-wardens who still
live on the island, Nick and Deryk, how can he go wrong? Reach for
the stars Logan.
In
the Sumburgh Hotel again for the evening, my teaching pension has
been paid into my current account and for the first time for over a
week I can have a meal; haddock and chips followed by a magnificent
hunk of cheesecake.
Late
in the evening as I go to leave, the lads ask why am I doing all of
this and on hearing “for charity” they insist I come back whence
I return from Fair Isle.
Fair
Isle. I return tomorrow, if the gale abates, the seas calm down and
the Good Shepherd sails. There are three new birds for my year list
on Fair Isle. Coincidentally I need three new birds for the European
record, 307, Bean goose, Siberian stonechat and pine bunting.
Will
I get there and will I get the birds?
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