Dodgy Sparrow Lifer, another Minke but Photo Woes
Still smarting from the potential-Tern-lifer disaster, I was keen to add to my life list while I still had time on my side in the summer holidays. I’d queued this one up for a while but kept having second thoughts given the fickle nature of the bird in question. It was also on the Isle of May, which involved another long drive and a costly boat ticket and was the subject of intermittent bird reports which only filtered out via the usual social media and Birdguides grapevines if the warden or volunteers had bothered to go looking for it and report it. On the Thursday it was reported I was too late to get a place on the Friday boat (great!), but I took a risk and travelled up on the Friday night, staying in a homestay in St Andrews. The boat wasn’t due to leave until 1.30pm the next day (Saturday), but I woke at 3.30am and then had all morning to fester, waiting for the bird to be reported while I sea-watched off Fife Ness (5am-8am) and wandered around some of some nearby migrant hotspots including Kilminning and Kingsbarns. (Of course, the easterly winds of the day before had dissipated, and clear skies meant that most migrants had cleared off – typical!) The sea-watch was a rather dull affair, but one at least shared with the local Fife Bird Club. I chatted to a few of them whilst I listened to them count the Common Scoter and terns flying past. We did spot a handful of Manx Shearwater, a Bonxie and a couple of very distant Sooty Terns. I was also the one to first spot and identify a very distant Peregrine cruising into view. In the bushes at Kilminning I found Lesser Whitethroat, Common Whitethroat and Chiffchaff, but the vast majority of the previously reported migrants had left overnight. All the other sites I visited were bereft of birds, teaming with tourists or both. Bored and frustrated, I headed off early to Anstruther to suss out the car parking situation and boat departure point. The free carpark next to the Coop was easy to find and the departure point was too; and eventually, with lifejacket donned, I sped off with 9 others on the RIB (rigid inflatable boat), which was twice as fast as the sluggish Princess – packed with 100 on board – which we followed and overtook numerous times on the way to the island. A very pleasant surprise was a fairly close Minke Whale – which we got good views of, but inevitably my camera was still in the bag at this point, and I struggled to get it out in time. I also had a brilliant Arctic Skua pass right overhead as we approached the island, but again, I was too late; by the time I saw it, it was above me and heading away from the boat. Another bird of interest was a young Puffin, which posed nicely for the camera. Once we’d done a circuit of the island listening to the history of the place, admiring the caves and cooing over the Grey Seal pups (all very nice but giving me less time on the island to look for birds), we eventually landed.
I teamed up with another birder, Scottish John, and we set off at pace along the footpath straight to the Low Light bushes, near the bird observatory, where the bird in question had last been seen, knowing that we only had a couple of hours. One other birder joined us, but basically it was just the three of us. Over the course of the next hour or so, we found a Spotted Flycatcher, another Lesser Whitethroat and a few Siskin. But there was no sign of the rarity, and I was starting to get a little nervous, mulling over the situation, the money I’d spent, the long drive to get here, the potential for yet more disappointment… John chose to try his luck elsewhere with other migrants, and I now felt stranded: the bird had proved elusive of late, only appearing in reaction to playback, as advised by the warden, and I had no reception. Fortunately, John reappeared after a while – with his phone – and we now tried a concerted, more intense approach to finding this thing. Edging ever closer to the bushes in question and with playback being used as a tool a little more frequently to lure it out now, we scrutinised every branch and twig. With time running out, I suggested he tried playing the bird’s call very briefly one last time, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a passerine came charging out of the gloom, chipping loudly and settled in a bush close to us. This had to be it. And sure enough, there it was, showing all its salient features perfectly as I watched through binoculars: a stunning male White-throated Sparrow! I grabbed my camera as the bird moved to another twig, but as I tried to pick it up, I couldn’t focus – I had the camera on the 10m-inifinity setting, and the bird was too close! Of course, by the time I realised my mistake, the bird had skulked back into the bush and that was the last we saw of it. Mixed emotions, naturally: thrilled that I had found it (dissipating all that frustration, disappointment and nervousness) but furious that I’d missed the shot. Anyway, at least it was in the bag. Relief. (I did have to remind myself that the skipper of the Dunbar boat had said over the phone that the bird had probably hitched a lift on a ship; John also said something similar once he’d seen it; the jury is still out on this one, but others of the same species landing on the east coast have been accepted in previous years, so…) Again, regardless of its credentials, this was more about me ‘feeling lucky again’ after a long dry spell of missed opportunities. But there was more to come, I decided to hang around a bit and try to get reception by walking up the mist-net path to play the call again. Bizarrely, the sparrow didn’t reappear, but another bird did, perching briefly but openly on top of the elderberry bush: Icterine Warbler! No doubt about it – strong yellow hues, a pale daggerlike bill and steep forehead. Again, the bird vanished when I held my camera up but at least I saw it: a self-found rarity! (To be fair, I think an Icterine had been seen the day before, so technically, I hadn’t found it if we are to assume it was the same bird.) Anyway, it was time to dash back to the boat now, and I was leaving on a positive and finishing on a high – for once. Oh, and thanks, John; not sure I’d have seen the bird without you and your phone!
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