Northern Lightshow - 10th October

Thursday evening and the Aurora Borealis alerts started pinging through on my phone, suggesting the Northern Lights could be visible in northern England. Then, Ollie Metcalfe sent a pic of the sky over Bank Island - the Aurora was visible! A peek out of the window and I could see stars - great, there was a clear sky over Bishopthorpe. It is usually far too bright where we live because of the streetlights, so I persuaded Vicky to come with Lunar and me for a walk down to the bridge over the River Ouse, where it was a bit darker and we could get a better look at the sky. 

To our delight, there was a green glow with some pink visible to the north - woop! The Northern Lights! Joined by some friends, we hung out for a while and the pale green streak across the sky remained pretty much the whole time, whilst the pink block faded in the north and reappeared in the west, behind the iron fisherman sat atop the swingbridge. Class! 

 

After an hour, we got cold and when the lightshow faded we wandered back home with the bemused dog who seemed a bit puzzled by what we were doing. Just before bed, I went out with Lunar into the back garden and to my surprise, there was a huge red streak lighting the sky above the house! The family came out for a look but I couldn't persuade them to go back to the bridge, so I biked down there alone. It was pretty spooky, but a few people including a mate of mine were there enjoying the show. 

Day Three: Brassneck and Bluetail- 5th October

Today, Team Dirty Habicht (L to R: Dunc Poyser, Rich Baines, Gansey Girl, Me, Mark Hawkes) hit the East Yorkshire coast. Again, the conditions didn't look great for a fall of migrants, just great for sunbathing and beer gardens, which perhaps explained our rather sluggish start. 

Bridlington Harbour was our first stop for a bit of filthy twitching and parcel posting. The first-winter Grey Phalarope was found pecking around in the muck floating in the corner of the harbour, a stunning little Arctic waif, with fabulous lobed toes, like a tiny Coot. The phalarope, a first winter, was very confiding, busily doing its thing without any concern for its admirers. Boots full, we recruited a passing tourist to take our photo with the Gansey Girl -above. 

On to the Cape, and we opted to walk the south cliffs from South Landing to Old Fall. This had nothing to do with the fact that the Red-flanked Bluetail in Booted Gulley had been refound! A bird called a couple of times as we got out of the car at Flamborough; surely a Lapland Bunting, but with sleepy ears, we had to let it go...A Yellow-browed Warbler was a safer ID, calling as we headed off towards the clifftop.

Returning birders suggested Booted Gulley was a scrum of angry, fighting twitchers; we'd soon sort it out! Anyway, it was totally the opposite, with quiet, considerate birders helping each other to get views of this little Siberian skulker, flicking about under the bushes. I fortuitously stood next to a lad with a themal imager, and he gave a quiet commentary of the bird's movements, which allowed me to get excellent views. It's always a good day when you see a Bluetail!

...

On we went, along the clifftop. A bunting launched out of the stubble at close range, calling. A Lapland Bunting, which helpfully circled round and landed ten metres away in the stubble. After a brief scurry, it decided our company wasn't what it was after, and it flew off and landed in the next field west. Well, be like that, if you must! Two Dunlins flew past, which was just as unexpected in a stubble field, if not quite as rare.

Next up, Old Fall, where a spanking Pied Flycatcher eyed us from the sheltered lower branches of a Sycamore, while Goldcrests defied the bluster, gleaning unseen aphids from the decaying leaves, high in the canopy. In the hedge, we found a beautiful, gleaming, pale Chiffchaff that had a Siberian look to it, though perhaps a hint of yellow in the supercilium and a call not quite right. It performed beautifully, hovering about, showing off silky white underparts and whatever it's origin, a stunning bird.

Chiffchaff, poss Siberian, by Rich Baines
 

Time was pressing but we had time to check out one of the Red-breasted Flycatchers, which had lingered at Holmes Gut. It showed well, briefly, but was mostly - and sensibly - keeping low down and out of the breeze. The Icky seemed to have done a bunk and there were few other migrants noted, apart from two Bramblings, so we legged it over to Bempton, so that Dunc and Mark could see the Isabelline Shrike. 

Having learned from the previous day's tricky viewing, we scoped from the path just next to the visitor centre, over the heads of the disconsolate twitchers and toggers gathered by the shrike's favoured hedge. The pale form of the shrike was easy to see from our vantage point, albeit at about three miles' range, and we watched it scanning for passing insects (at least that's what it might have been doing). The crowd remained oblivious, being unable to see the bird in the lee of the wind on the opposite side of the hedge, so even though our views were distant today, at least we'd seen it.

We headed home and hit Leeds O2 Academy for a sparkling set by Miki Berenyi (formerly of Lush) and then the legendary Leeds band, The Wedding Present. Much middle-aged breathless pogoing took place, as the band played the classic album Bizarro, including anthems Brassnceck and Kennedy and we relived our long forgotten teen years. A fine end to a fabulous first three days in Sniper's Alley, with great company and great birding.  

More pics of the Brid Phalarope. Worth getting a wave-washed arse for!

Day Two: Fog Horns and Witch's Knickers - 4th October

After birding heaven on my birthday, I hit the coast again today. Sadly, the rough sea meant our Yorkshire Coast Nature boat trip was cancelled, so me and Rich checked out the North Yorkshire coast, just south of Whitby, for a change of scenery. Chris and Ollie's fabulous Two-barred Warbler had done a bunk and several forlorn birders were mooching about early doors. Having seen the Flamborough bird last year, we were fairly chilled about this, but it would have been great to see. We birded the area where it had been seen as it was an excellent bit of cover, with a similar vibe to some of the little hamlets on Unst. The best we could do was a Reed Warbler and a few Blackcaps and Goldcrests, but we could see why Chris and Ollie like this place!

We wandered down to the Kettleness Fog Horn and admired it, took a selfie (above) and then pottered along the coast in glorious sunshine, checking out this and that, but mainly not a lot. A dead Minke Whale lay on the shore, a sad sight.

A bit later, we met up with Sean our boat trip skipper for an end of season lunch, which was great, before heading down to the Cape (we couldn't stay away!). At Bempton, the Isabelline Shrike had disappeared round the back of the hedge on the nature trail, to keep out of the freshening southerly wind. It would have been viewable to everybody from the overflow car park, and after a while, the site staff agreed to let the half dozen birders in to have a look. The pallid shrike stood out a mile against the dark of the Hawthorn, like a small pair of witch's knickers*, which I guess is apt, given where the bird gets its name 'Isabelline', although the Spanish princess Isabella could scarcely be described as a witch, despite her unsanitary behaviour!**

The bird was an exceptionally pale individual, quite heavily scalloped on the breast and with a very washed-out face pattern. Not much was discernible from the range through the scope, but it was a good bird nevertheless. I tried my best to get a photo of the bird with the North Sea in the background, perhaps with a Gannet sailing past; two species that shouldn't really be photograpable together!

Many thanks to the patience of the Bempton team who supported the twitch - Dave Aitken, Ivan Nethercoate, Tony Hood and Trev Charlton.

Also noted, a couple of Yellow-browed Warblers and a lot of Pink-footed Geese.

.....................................

*Slang for pieces of plastic, often carrier bags, stuck in bushes or hedgerows, which witches use as underwear. Probably.

**The origins of Isabelline trace back to the 17th century, named after the Spanish princess Isabella. Legend has it that the color was inspired by the princess's vow to not change her undergarments until a siege was lifted, resulting in a pale, off-white hue (yuk!).

The Big 5-0, Day One: Sniper's Alley (3rd October)

 I've been pretty chilled about hitting 50 not out, certainly not as down about arriving at 30 and 40 for some reason; maybe every big birthday is now something to celebrate; a time to really appreciate family, friends and good health. And birding - lots of birding! Ever since I've worked, I've taken the day off work to go birding on my birthday, and this year, I'd planned a three day self-indulgent epic, involving the east coast, whale-watching and knee deep rarities. Well, hopefully!

York birder, Mark Fewster, gave me an early 50th birthday present when he told me that hitting 50 meant I was now in 'Snipers Alley' where I would be dodging death's bullets every day, until I scraped it to 60. There is some truth in the stats here, but it was something I wasn't too pleased to hear two days before my big day!

As the 3rd October approached, the birding gods (DIM Wallace et al) were clearly smiling down, and a fall of 'good' birds on the east coast during the preceding day set things up really nicely; this looked more promising than some birthdays I have had, which have been marred by light southwesterlies and sunny skies! 

The day of the big 5-0 dawned and I enjoyed a quick hug with the family before heading off east to Holmes Gut, Flamborough. The weather was a bit nicer than I'd hoped - there wasn't going to be much of an arrival today - but whilst waiting for birding mate Andy Gibson, a Red-breasted Flycatcher flew on to a fence at the back of the pub garden - a great start! 

Andy arrived and we enjoyed views of the flycatcher which had moved to the willows along the small stream. Other than this, the Gut was rather quiet, with only a few Goldcrests and a couple of overflying Redwings, Skylarks and Meadow Pipits on offer. 

 

News of yesterday's Olive-backed Pipit at Thornwick Camp lightened our step and we made our way slowly round the clifftop, checking carefully for migrants. We hadn't added a lot to the list by the time we reached the plantation behind the activity barn where the OBP had been hanging out since yesterday afternoon. A small crowd had gathered along the footpath but they reported no sign, so we went round the side to try our luck. Within minutes, Andy saw the bird hop up briefly to the foot of a bush before creeping back into the grass. I missed it, but watched intently assuming it would reappear. We told a couple of nearby birders and they joined the vigil by the fence. Moments later a small bird dropped out of the sky and landed in a nearby Alder. We all looked over to the tree before Andy exclaimed 'It's a Rustic Bunting!' The two other birders stated the same, but I just couldn't see it. I couldn't understand how I couldn't. Arriving birders flushed the bird and I then realised that it had been behind the telegraph pole, and out of view! Flying close overhead, the rusty-red chest and flank markings stood out clearly in the morning sunshine; the bunting flew over to the back of the plantatioon and dropped into some small Hawthorns, unfortunately landing out of sight. After an anxious minute during which time most of the other birders who had been searching for the OBP arrived, the bunting was again accidentally flushed and it flew back over our heads, before briefly alighting atop a bush allowing all present a very brief perched view, before it flew again, off and over Thornwick top hide. Blooming heck! While I couldn't claim this as a find, it was an exhilarating moment to see this bird drop in right in front of us. 

After this excitement, we gave the OBP a bit longer, but then decided to go and do a bit of birding elsewhere. This proved profitable, with Redstart, Blackcaps, Chiffchaff and Goldcrest. Arriving back at the plantation a little later, we were pleased to hear the OBP had reappeared and shortly, we got great views of this streaky skulker, creeping about in the grass and leaf litter, quietly pumping its tail as it went. It really was an immaculate bird, and having struggled to catch up with this species in Yorkshire, this was a real treat on my birthday. 

Having filled our boots, we continued our quest, adding a Yellow-browed Warbler by the lake, but little else. Post-lunch, we opted for the Outer Head where we felt a late arrival could produce a few new birds. Within moments of heading down Old Fall hedge, the unexpected white form of a Great Grey Shrike came into focus perched nonchalantly and ghost-like atop the Hawthorn. It was distant, so we waited a while to see if the approaching birder might inadvertently flush the bird towards us. And then the second bizarre bunting incident happened. A small bird flew up out of the stubble between us and the shrike, landed briefly on the hedge and then flew straight towards us 'ticking'. The small bunting passed close overhead, revealing a small chestnut head and blackish streaks on a white belly - a Little Bunting! Andy and me could hardly believe it. The bird carried on up the hedge and appeared to go over the road and out of sight. I remembered there had been a Little Bunting here recently, but I couldn't remember it being reported for a while, so it was a fab surprise.

Getting ourselves together, we ambled down to the plantation. A couple of Yellow-browed Warblers and a brace of Pied Flycatchers mingled with Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs, giving us plenty to enjoy, though nothing rarer stirred - although we could hardly complain after the day we'd had! The farmer decided to harvest the beans in the field surrounding the plantation, shattering the afternoon's tranquility, so we quickened our pace round to the lighthouse. The rest of the loop was quiet, with the highlight being an ice cream, courtesy of Andy. 

I still had a bit of birding time available before I was due back in York, so we went back to Holmes Gut. The Red-breasted Flycatcher had found a buddy, and the two birds were zipping in and out of the trees, and showing beautifully. After enjoying this energetic pair, we joined a small group of birders who had refound an Icterine Warbler that had been present for a few days. It took a while to get a good view of the Icky, but after taking a bath in the stream it then sat up in a willow, drying off in the warm afternoon sunshine and giving us all great views. I even managed some reasonabl pics. 

 

 

 Nearby, an Acrocephalus warbler was never anything but a Reed Warbler but I took a couple of pics just to be sure. It was time to call it a day, and we wandered back to our transport, the calls of the Red-breasted Flycatchers rattling in our ears. It had been an exceptional day, really incredible birds and non-stop laughs with Andy, at the east coast's best birding spot. Bring on tomorrow!

 

Me and Andy, North Landing, 3rd October 2024.

Giga Rare: the Bempton Pale-legged Leaf Warbler

A wingbarred Phylloscopus warbler at Bempton Cliffs had set pulses racing earlier this week, but due to poor weather and its skulking, elusive behaviour, it had evaded identification. Having heard an unusual call, local birders had their suspicions, and by Friday, the bird had been recorded and an identification reached: this was Britain's second ever Pale-legged Leaf Warbler, and the first to be found alive! This little bird had gone a long, long way wrong; it should be heading to its wintering grounds in Burma and Thailand, not East Yorkshire. This really was an uber-vagrant of a Giga-level rarity.

Old mate Philip was up for our birthday gathering and we had planned to go birding at Flamborough this morning, so this couldn't have been timed better! However, with the first clear weather for a few days overnight, I felt there was a chance the bird would depart. As we headed east early doors, I was drawn to the Flamborough fog station (ironically, as it's job is to deter) as I felt that yesterday's strong northerly wind could well generate a really exciting seawatch today. Also, the Bempton warbler had been reported to be extremely elusive and combined with the sheer rarity of this bird, there was likely to be a big crowd gathered, jostling for views, and I was really unsure whether I could face that!

We were still debating this as we drove into Bridlington, but news of the bird's continuing presence eased our decision and we hung a left and gunned the car to Bempton. About 100 birders were already present and volunteers were doing a great job of directing the arriving and very anxious twitchers, ably assisted by some of the Flamborough Bird Obs folk. We parked up and made our way to where the bird had last been seen. A crowd had gathered, six or seven deep, staring intently into the shadowy depths underneath some large Hawthorns. Unlike most leaf-warblers, this species apparently likes it low down and shady, hanging out in the brambles and lower parts of bushes; this was going to be tricky. Birders were kneeling down at the front of the scrum, almost as if paying homage to the bird! I wandered to the back of the crowd, but there was no way I was seeing anything through the tiny gaps between birders heads. It was like being at a gig, just with the stage being a bank of bushes. We decided a better bet would be to go round the other side of the Dell (a large sort of depression lined with Brambles, Gorse, Bracken and Nettles and studded with large Hawthorns and a few larger trees. The sun was shining on to the opposite bank, and it was nice and sheltered too, perfect for a feeding vagrant warbler. A Siberian-type Lesser Whitethroat leapt out of a nearby bush as if to prove the point.

Nerves were rattled by any small movement; Goldcrests zipped around a large Sycamore; Blackcaps guzzled Elderberries; a rather grey Chiffchaff flitted through the Willows and finches and Tree Sparrows were all busily feeding in the Dell. Despite the plan, after twenty minutes of so, excited movement from the twitchers on the other side suggested that the bird may have reappeared round the other side. 

 

The rather brown-naped Lesser Whitethroat in the Dell.

We headed back to the burgeoning crowd and after a few tense moments, the strange, high-pitched 'tink' of the Pale-legged Leaf Warbler could be heard. The call was really distinctive, sounding almost tree frog-like. Moments later, the warbler flicked up from the unseen darkness under the bush into the higher twigs of the canopy and then flicked across the top and down into the Dell! We shot back round to the entrance road and could still hear the warbler calling. It was getting closer and Philip suddenly exclaimed that he had the bird low down in the Hawthorn on the side of the Dell. I got my bins on it just as it flicked off into the Brambles. Drat! The bird melted away. We changed position to see if the bird would reappear but it somehow moved quickly back to the other side of the Dell - we could track it by its call. We headed back to the car park and sure enough the bird flew across the road into the large bushes close to the visitor centre. Yet again, I got close views of the bird flicking low down in the bushes, but just could not get it on it well enough. All the time, the distinctive call was given. It then flew straight over my head into the scrub just next to the visitor centre. It stopped calling and was lost. 

The penetrating thin call of a Yellow-browed Warbler was a welcome distraction; it showed well feeding actively in a nearby Ash. We wondered if the bird had moved along the wooded belt to the north, so we headed along looking and listening intently. We picked up two more Yellow-browed Warblers, one either side of the pond; lovely little sprites dashing about the Willows and Alders. One or two Song Thrushes were in the willows too.

 Shiny sprites

After more searching, we debated whether this was all we were going to see of the PLLW. Philip was happy, I wasn't particularly; I had seen the bird five or six times and listened to its call, but had not seen it properly through my bins. We debated options and then suddenly we heard it call again moving back towards its original spot. It was clearly doing a feeding circuit, following a regular route around the scrubby areas surrounding the car park and Dell. Discussing tactics, we felt our best chance would be to wait until the bird was in its original spot, then head round to the entrance track and wait. Following it around with the crowd was just proving to be frustrating, so getting ahead and quietly waiting near a likely spot, could just pay off, if it chose to repeat what it had done an hour previously. 

One or two birders had the same idea, and a small group of us gathered by the roadside at the foot of the Dell. Tense minutes passed by and then, we heard the sound of the bird as it approached unseen through the bushes. Philip, who is blessed with the sharpest eyes of anybody I know, spotted it first as it flicked into the side of a Hawthorn. I didn't see it, but focussed by bins into the area. And suddenly, out it hopped, on to a small bare branch in a hole in the Hawthorn! Facing left, it nervously flicked its wings and tail, whilst looking around. It was a noticeably large Phyllosc, with bright white supercilium and white throat, a dark greyish head and olive mantle with bright bronzy wings, with indistinct wingbars, and of course, pale pink legs! It hopped left and out of sight, before revealing itself again. Our hunch had paid off and we had enjoyed good views of the bird doing its thing as it moved through the scrub. 

 

Pale-legged Leaf Warbler, Bempton: Photos by Steve Williams @steveonhilbre.bsky.social - thanks Steve for letting me use your pics :-)
 

To our surprise, it then flicked across the road into the bushes on the western edge of the site, just as the masses arrived from the northside of the Dell. The crowd gathered, blocking the road, and we retreated for coffee and cake, smiles gleaming in the morning sunshine.

Caffeine-fuelled, we walked the cliffs to North Dykes, where a Siberian Stonechat was flycatching from a barbed wire fence in the company of a Whinchat. The bird was a typical pale Maurus type with pale unstreaked peachy uppertail and a frosty look.

 

Siberian Stonechat

 A couple of lovely Pink-feet flocks winked overhead as they winged their way south, and Gannets cruised past along the clifftops as we wandered back, in that elated mood generated by having seen something really special and having had some very nice cake. There was more mouth-watering news coming out of Flamborough, and I was desperate to try and find our own birds, but we had a party to prepare, so we left the throngs searching for the East Asian skulker and headed back west.

Fresh in from Iceland, Pink-footed Geese heading south across the blue skies above Bempton.

 

Up pops Upupa epops

 

York has an uncanny knack of attracting wandering Hoopoes and I have an uncanny knack of dipping them when they turn up. Some local birders even see them landing on the road in front of their cars (Adam Firth!) whilst local vicars spy them from the vicarage windows, probing for grubs on their manicured lawns. But not me! Hoopoes aren't the sort of birds you could ever expect to find inland; A spring overshoot on the south coast is a possibility with a bit of weather and luck, but inland they are very unpredictable in their occurrence. 

York's latest Upupa epops had popped up in a housing estate at Stamford Bridge just east of York at the weekend. To my immediate frustration, I was lounging in a punt on the River Cam in Cambridge, celebrating my wife's birthday and enjoying the unseasonally warm sunshine. This news put a little edge on proceedings, but I promised myself not to mention it until back in York, so as not to ruin the party. 

To my delight, the bird was still happily bouncing around the gardens this morning, so perhaps I would get a chance to twitch it after all. My Monday meetings ended ahead of schedule, so a late lunchtime twitch was in order, and 20 minutes later, I was prowling around the cul-de-sacs grilling the greenery like some botanical burglar. Fortunately, the natives were friendly and were delighted with their exotic visitor, telling me which gardens the bird was favouring. Despite the local gen, there was no sign of the Hoopoe, so I went for a wander; perhaps the bowling green or cricket pitch nearby were worth a look? After  a few minutes, five other excited birders suddenly appeared; moments earlier, they had seen the bird fly over towards the cricket pitch, conveniently where I was stationed, scanning the short turf. This did look a good spot for a feeding Hoopoe, but sadly the Hoopoe didn't agree and was nowhere to be seen. I left the others searching and went back round to the favoured location. 

 To my minor astonishment, at number 43, there was the Hoopoe, nonchalantly walking about on the lawn. I parked up next to it, dropped the window and watched it contentedly feeding on several leatherjackets. It eyed me suspiciously - perhaps it was the tunes - I turned the radio off!  I rang one of the birders and let him know that it had reappeared and then enjoyed the bird for a few minutes on my own before the (tiny) crowd arrived. The footsteps flushed the bird, but it flew, or rather flopped, as Hoopoes kind-of do, only a little way before pitching back down on to another likely-looking lawn. I had another few minutes enjoying this stunner, before work beckoned and I headed home.

Slight Return?

The sight of a stripy sprite bouncing around a coastal hedge or Sycamore has been so frequent as to become expected on the east coast in September, but in the last couple of years, Yellow-browed Warblers seem to have declined massively. Last year was my first blank year in about 30 years, without a single sighting of this lovely species, a stark contrast to recent years where I have recorded double figures in a day. There have been a range of theories for the change in fortune, including extensive wild fires in the Russian breeding grounds, poor survival in the new wintering areas or a lack of easterly winds in September. Whatever the cause, they have been noticeable by their absence and many folk have lamented the disappearane. So, it is with some relief that this autumn there has been a slight return to former numbers, with good counts all along the east coast in the last week or so. The vanguard didn't linger, but were soon outgunned by multiple arrivals chivvied by a keen easterly straight out of the Urals. These birds sparkled amid the bushes and trees, flitting around with Red-breasted Flycatchers and other drift migrants. On Friday, the winds continued, so I headed out to Flamborough to join in the fun. A poor choice led me to seawatch and despite promising conditions, little was moving, save a handful of Sooty and Manx Shearwaters and a few skuas. With news from the outer head of Little Bunting and Red-breasted Flycatchers, I bid farewell to Brett and headed off in search of passerines. Arriving at Old Fall Hedge and a gorgeous trio of Spotted Flycatcher, Redstart and Whinchat fed together, dropping on hapless insects in the stubble at the foot of the hedge. And from nowhere, a surprisingly noisy Yellow-browed Warbler started yelling from the top of a nearby Hawthorn. There may in fact have been two birds as the noise was pretty startling, though I only saw one at a time. Lovely. A Red-breasted Flycatcher was hunting in the sycamores of the plantation, rattling away, but I only managed brief views. To complete the set, a Pied Flycatcher zipped in and more oblingingly, sat on a branch for a few minutes. Song Thrushes were coming 'in off' and a couple of Yellow Wagtails flew over. The Little Bunting failed to reappear and time was getting on. It felt like there was going to be a big bird today or this weekend, but I would be away down south with the family, so I had to be content with my stripy and rather noisy sprite. 

 

York Birding Trip - Flamborough Head 8th September 2024

 

Today was our annual York Birding Flamborough field trip. We have had a good track record with these trips, having seen and found a few good birds in recent years. 

The drift had continued over the weekend, with more common and scarce migrants making landfall on the east coast, and with early morning mizzle and a light northeasterly wind, the conditions looked favourable for a good day out. 

Thick fog and warmth greeted us at the lighthouse; an early seawatch was immediately sidelined, so we headed off round the Old Fall loop. Both Spotted and Pied Flycatchers were showing in the murk at the Golf Course Willows, pretty much the first birds we laid eyes on; followed by hulking Garden Warblers, ever-so-pale and constantly tacking Lesser Whitethroats, flitting Willow Warblers and a few flyover Swallows. No sign of the recent Red-breasted Flycatcher to complete the trio, but early smiles on York birders' faces were good to see. The fog lifted a little as we headed down the Old Fall hedge and we found first three, then 13 Wheatears feeding in the stubble fields. A quiet bubbling song from the top of a thick Crab Apple was reminiscent of a June Garden Warbler, which seemed rediculous on a misty September morning, but our hunch was right when the seasonally maladjusted Syvia eventually revealed itself. More Lesser Whitethroats called unseen in the hedge as we approached the plantation. We split into three groups to cover the hotspot as carefully as possible. As with Friday, Pied and Spotted Flycatchers were the most obvious birds, showing well from the tops of the trees as they expertly picked passing flies out of the air. There was not as much activity as Friday, but we did notch up Blackcap, Whitethroat, Lesser Whitethroat, Willow Warbler and Chiffchaff. A couple of Yellow Wagtails flitted and a fine Hobby cruised past over the cliffs causing alarm among the lingering House Martins. 

By the time we reached Motorway Hedge, the fog had rolled in again, announced by the Flamborough fog horn. As such, it was difficult to see much in the hedge itself and we moved on quickly. Again, our plan for a seawatch faded into the gloom and we opted for lunch instead. Bush-bashing seemed to be the best post-lunch option, so once refreshed, we drove round to South Landing. Aside from a few unseen calling Chiffchaffs, nothing much was happening in the ravine as we made our way to the beach, where we found so much fog that we couldn't see the sea! A few waders avoided marauding dogs and careless owners, including single Knot, Dunlin and Bar-tailed Godwit, with 16 Ringed Plovers for company. A few creaking Sandwich Terns flew past and then as if by some miracle, the fog dispersed revealing an azure sky and bright sunshine. The temperature lifted by several degrees, which was welcomed by all, until we began the steep ascent of the steps up to the cliff top. I reminisced about running up these a year ago, for the fantastic summer-plumage White-billed Diver ( I am still not sure how I got up that quickly!). 

The rest of the South Landing loop was fairly uneventful, though a close female Sparrowhawk and a trio of Spotted Flycatchers and a solitary Pied Flycatcher performed beautifully in the clearing near the whale bridge. Perhaps the best bird was a Nuthatch which we heard calling from the woods, my first at Flamborough. We also saw a Gold Spot moth and a Red-legged Shieldbug, adding a little entomological flavour.

Time was getting on and some of the group decided to head home. With the mist finally clearing, I was keen to go back to the outer head to see if anything had dropped in. Arriving at the lighthouse, we picked up Wheatear and Whinchat in the Gorse Field, followed by Stonechat and two Whitethroats in the Bay Brambles. With clear skies, it was refreshing to be able to see for a change! Bumping into Craig Thomas and John Beaumont, they told us they'd had a Greenish Warbler at the bottom of Motorway Hedge but sadly it has filtered off along the hedge along the bottom of the Gorse Field and disappeared. Arrgh! My hunch of returning here had been right, but it looked like we were half an hour too late for the best bird. 

Nevertheless, we were on site, so it was worth a wander along the hedge to see what else might have turned up. A couple of Lesser Whitethroats was all we could produce from the thick cover and with tired legs and eyes it was almost time to give up, when Jane Chapman mentioned to me there was a small, pale bird near the corner at the end of the hedge. This sounded promising, so we both quickly walked a little further on and began grilling the willows in earnest. Suddenly, a movement, and I locked on to a small green and off white phyllosc, flitting among the leaves. This looked like the Greenish! I grabbed a scope and the thin white wingbar and pale, off-white supercilium jumped out at me. It was the Greenish! The group quickly gathered and to our collective delight, the little sprite performed brilliantly, mostly on the near-edge of the bushes, moving quickly through the foliage, often pausing to look around right out in the open. This allowed everybody to get great views, most even locking on through the scope too. I managed a bit of phone-scoped effort through Rob and Jane's scope and a few distant pics. A new bird for some, and an exciting bird for all, the delight was clear in our little York group and this had been a fantastic finale to a great day at Flamborough Head.