Sunday 9th
October light E very sunny, warm
A
peregrine is flying along the Hill Dyke stone wall as I climb towards
the geos to search for yesterday's flycatcher. There's hardly a cloud
and hardly a breath of wind. The sun is rising and the shadows are
leaving the geos and cliffs.
A
couple of hours I spend looking down at the Grey Geo but no
flycatcher is there. A chance for a good bird dissipates.
I
walk up Guidicom and around to Skinner's Geo. There are migrants,
goldcrests of course and a couple of yellow-browed warblers. Chiff
chaffs all seem to be of the nominate race.
The
sea is amazingly flat, not a ripple and so blue! This is October and
I need sun tan lotion.
I
walk past the radio mast and around to view the sound between
Shetland and Fair Isle; my hope is that cetacean or two will show
themselves. They don't but this doesn't detract from the stunningly
magnificent scenery and views.
Houses can clearly seen on Shetland
around Toab and Quendale; the lighthouse stands proudly atop Sumburgh
Head, an RSPB reserve.
I
explore the island after breakfast at the Bird Observatory. Birds
become secondary to the main motivation of enjoying a warm Autumn
day.
Silver
y moths are in the shop garden and migrant birds are still chasing
flies. A perfect day.
Birds
are obviously though still a focus. Little buntings in the thistles
at North Shirva with reed buntings, twite and bramblings. All look
fabulous in the perfect light.
Even the pechora pipit gives views at
Lower Stoneybrek.
In
the late evening I head up Buness to watch the darkness fall and the
Moon rise. Such clarity and beauty. Unmatched.
Monday 10th
October
Sunrise
is incredible.
I
am on the trap round with lee and Nina. The sun breaches the horizon
as a distant nuclear explosion.
On
the way back with a few bird bags full I spot a large splash half way
out over the sea to the horizon. It has got to be a whale.
It
breaches, once, twice then blows water six feet high as it breaths, a
minke or a humpback I am not sure. Lee says minke. It tail flukes and
is gone.
After
breakfast there is only one topic of conversation. How can we get to
the Shetland mainland fast? A first for Britain bird, a Siberian
accentor has been found and all birders on the isle want to get there
to see it.
The
Birding Clams had it last night and whilst I was on Buness I had
talked to them as they watched the bird on the phone. The fact that I
could see the hill on which the mega rare bird was residing as I
talked to the lads only added to the tension.
Hard
moments of decision making, I determined that I needed to see it
Green, that is use the Good Shepherd boat and not fly to it. The Good
Shepherd would be leaving tomorrow, the plane today. Tough decision
but necessary.
I
watched the minibus leave with birders leave for the airport. I saw
them all return half an hour later. The plane had broken down!
Lots
of justifiable anger in the lounge, how can such a vital service for
Fair Isle be with a plane that breaks down?
I
am desperate for Lee Gregory to see it. He deserves to see it and I
say that if the only way for lee to see the bird then I would pay my
bit for the charter to help make up the numbers. Cath Mendez phones a
company but no plane is available. The frustrated anger rises.
At
this time the news is that the plane might be fixed for two days
time. Birders are booked onto the Good Shepherd including myself
(thanks Susannah).
I
have appointments to visit Jim and Florrie, two original crofters in
the south of the island and with Mati over a purchase.
The
former aren't in and I spend a few hours chatting with Mati about
love and hearing Mati's young daughter playing the keyboard. She will
be a superstar at this rate as she composes her own pieces. Not bad
for an eight year old.
I
get back to the bird obs to find the plane has gone after all. The
time it left, 5:15pm will mean that the birders who left will get ten
minutes or so of decent light once they reach the bird they will have
ten minutes of decent life. That is enough and I am chuffed to see
that Lee has gone. Will that the bird stays for me tomorrow. A clear
star-filled sky with a large Gibbous Moon doesn't bode well. The
International Space Station flying over this is spectacular as are a
number of shooting stars.
Tuesday 11th
October light SE sunny intervals.
The
Good Shepherd leaves on time and I am on deck with Ellen, the Fair
Isle nurse who is on her way to Rumania, and Marc, a Belgian
photographer, author and journalist. The sea is relatively calm but
still the Good Shepherd rolls from side to side, occasionally
throwing me about. I cling on to the rails. Sailing on this boat
always seems to double time and the slow crossing takes it's usual
age. The views of the distant Shetland islands are clear and Foula
can be seen to the NW.
Sunrise,
a Japanese flag of sunbeams.
Guillemots
pass in groups of three, a single razorbill and a single sooty
shearwater.
Past
Sumburgh Head and around into Grutness Harbour, I already know the
news, the Siberian accentor has gone.
Lee
Gregory is at the quayside awaiting his return trip to Fair Isle. He
saw the accentor last night and shows me photographs of the First for
Britain bird. I am thrilled for him. Lee deserves this bird. It is
sure to bring his mojo back!
My
mojo is disappearing fast. I find that a gear cable has rusted
through leaving me with a single gear. Oh well, my mother, bless her
little positive socks, always says that troubles come in threes so I
look forward to the third.
Boddam,
well just before it has a field to the east with waders and in with a
single ruff, a few redshank and curlew and a number of golden plover
and lapwing, is an American wader, a buff-breasted
sandpiper. Bird
number 301
goes down onto the list. At least that went well.
I
head off for Quendale to have a walk. I don't feel like a long cycle
to Bressay despite the fact there is a mega rare bird there. Frankly
I am tired out. I was late getting to bed last night and early
getting up this morning to take down the tent, pack and get the boat.
I need a rest.
Wednesday 12th
October light SE sunny intervals
Down
to Quendale again, I meet Julian Allen, a Midland Birder, the one who
sneaked onto a recent photograph of The Birding Clams celebrating the
Siberian accentor. A natter and good luck wishes both ways, I head
off along the valley and search the quarry and iris beds. I don't
stop at the head of the valley but continue up the slope over the
heather moorland to the top of nearest hill to the radar station. I
have the vain hope that the Siberian accentor has relocated to this
hill.
It
hasn't and a text to say that there is a pallid harrier down the
bottom of the hill has me careering down the hillside.
That's
gone too.
A
little bunting down the alley doesn't tempt me. Fair Isle withdrawal
symptoms. I need my mojo back.
Thursday 13th
October fresh SE cloudy
I
head back towards Quendale. A text from The Oracle.....
black-faced
bunting still at Gunnista, Bressay.
I
turn around and pack the bike. Let's go for the bunting!
I
reach the harbour at one and take the quick ferry across to Bressay.
Gunnista doesn't take long to reach and the search begins for the
elusive and mobile rare bird. There are derelict croft buildings and
barns, each with bits of garden or weeds. graveyard has an interesting ruined church.
Also piles of manure in a field
and a pampas grass garden some way down a grassy slope. All are
searched and a male redstart, a robin and couple each of goldcrest
and rock pipit reward me for my efforts.
A
local farmer comes up to me on a quadbike. “It was in the turnip
field this morning,” he tells me.
How
many times should one go around a large turnip field before saying
enough is enough. I try five times clockwise, then five times
anti-clockwise trying to change my luck. There are birds, twite,
house sparrows, skylarks and a single brambling. Also there are a
couple of rather tame chiff chaffs and a wren. No bunting.
Getting
dark and cloudy with the wind strengthening, I put up my tent. I will
get it tomorrow.
Friday
14th
October strong SE occasional bits of rain, cold
Somehow
the tent managed to collapse on me overnight as a gale blew. Not
surprisingly it lead to some interrupted sleep.
Awake
early, I go around the turnip field again, same birds, few more
pigeons, and around the manure heaps, the graveyard and the farm
buildings. Same redstart and robin present.
Two
birders arrive, Neil from Holt, Norfolk and John from Holbeach. John
sums up the situation succinctly. “What a hell hole!”
Together
we search all of the areas already mentioned. No luck.
At
11:00AM they go off to fetch another birder, Dan Poignton. T
legendary bird-finder, Dan will find the bird.
John,
Neil and I are by the turnip field. A call on John's phone, Dan has
found the bunting.
Unknown
to we three there is a cabbage patch about 200 yards from the turnip
patch. The bunting is in there. It flies out and amazingly lands on a
five bar gate and just sits there. Telescope views show a bunting
with a black face and
Phew!
Hours of hell in wind and rain and the bird is now secured onto the
Green Year list, black-faced
bunting,
bird number 302.
This
is a very rare British bird, just six seen. I saw the first at
Pennington near Wigan, Greater Manchester back in 19 with a few of
the Birding Clams. On that occasion I was so excited over seeing the
bird that I left an expensive Barbour coat there.
We
all want more views of the bird and continue to search for it for the
next two hours. At no time though does it settle, it just keeps going
on a circular tour of it's favourite places. One distraction on the
bunting chase is provided by the most confiding jack snipe that just
lays down in a ditch thinking we can't see it as we stand ten feet
from it. It's prostrate form with two very clear mantle braces is
comical with it stretched out as flat as it can get with beak on the
ground in front of it. What a moment to have left my camera in the
tent.
Time
to go, I pack the tent in the gale and head back to Lerwick. I am
just pushing my injured bike up a steep hill out of the town when I
receive a text in capitals from The Oracle....
PIED
WHEATEAR, SCATNESS.
The
Oracle, Phil Andrews, even phones me.
“Have
you got the message?”
“Yes,
that's why I am pushing the bike up this hill!”
The
wind is punishing and I get as far as Cunningsborough where I camp
for the night.
At
about one in the morning I am disturbed by some lads making a right
racket in a car. Their empty Coca Cola bottles and chip papers are
there in the morning. They live hard these Shetland teenagers.
Saturday
15th
October fresh to very strong SE cloudy to rain
Pied
wheatear is still present so I must get to Scatness as soon as
possible. First though I need water. With the amount of effort that
is needed to cycle a one gear bike twenty five miles, I am using up
my water quicker than usual and I didn't have any left before
retiring last night. The toilet block at Cunningsborough saves the
day.
I
reach Boddam to buy some food, having been tooted at by passing
birders on my way, then it's down to Scatness and a feeling of
confidence that the rare wheatear is going to be still there. A
friend, the brilliant birder High Harrop is on the other side of a
dry stone wall by the beach.
“Come
on Gary. It's still here.”
Pied
wheatear, bird
number 303
and
what superb looking bird. I lie down to watch it as it quickly goes
from rock to rock chasing sand flies. A common wheatear comes too
close and the pied soon sees it off. Wheatears are one of my
favourite bird groups and this bird is a definite highlight of the
year; the first rare wheatear I have seen whilst Biking Birding.
The
bird flies off along the beach and I follow it. Hugh comes and joins
me and I congratulate him on he and Judd finding the recent First
for Britain, the Siberian accentor. To hear the story of that bird's
finding from the man himself is a humbling and humorous privilege. No
expletives used, he couldn't have been excited enough.
Hugh
tells me that Roger Rddington, the British Birds magazine editor, had
a Siberian stonechat briefly this morning and I text him for
directions. From Roger's reply I spend the afternoon searching the
thistle beds and sand dunes around Toab and Quendale. No sign of the
rare stonechat, I am surprised to be almost slapped in the face by a
very brave red admiral butterfly. A goldcrest is by my feet quietly
feeding as I video it, always a special birding moment to be graced
by the presence of a 'five gram miracle.'
On
the way down to the sand dunes I meet a mother with son, Anna and
Lucian who have just been clearing the beach of some plastic. These
wonderful people deserve a badge at the very least but I have left
all of mine in my panniers hidden at Scatness. I take one off my coat
and say that they have really given me a great boost by their action.
They continue towards Toab and I go around the sand dunes.
No
sign of the stonechat, I go back to where I have left my bike. Some
farm workers are having a laugh taking turns riding a bike with a
badly buckled back wheel.
I
find my own less damaged vehicle only to find that Anna and Lucian
have left an expensive bar of chocolate in the margarine tub I have
attached to the front bag. Wonderful kindness, that will be a
donation to the charities.
Later
in the evening another great birding friend, Trevor Girling of
Norfolk, phones to ask how things are going. He has been concerned at
my lack of internet presence lately and the long chat is very greatly
appreciated. Brilliant to hear from him. The world of birding brings
wonderful friendships.
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