My day started disastrously, when Vicky, my wife, said to
me “I thought you were getting up early.” I had set my alarm for 5am, but it
was now 6.45am. B*****r! I dived out of bed in a panic.
The previous weekend, the persistent westerly wind had
finally relented and a northeasterly had brought renewed hope for some east
coast migrant magic. Sadly, despite having the whole of Sunday birding at Flamborough, I saw
two Redwings and two Bramblings; not the deluge I was expecting! Seawatching
early doors had been pretty good, with a stonking Slavonian Grebe the
highlight, which flew in and landed off the fog station. All four skua species
including a juvenile Long-tailed and a fully-spooned Pomarine in one minute was
pretty awesome too. Despite reports of Leach’s Petrels and Sabine’s Gulls to
the south, at Spurn, neither of these showed up before I had to depart to lead a walk as part of the Flamborough Bird Observatory's Migration Week.
As the day wore on, the lack of passerine migrants was apparent and the wind began to
swing more to the east; it felt like something big was about to happen... As I feared, the following day, when I was stuck at
work, the east coast kicked off big style, with fantastic seawatching and a big arrival of
birds at Flamborough, including at least three Radde’s Warblers. My phone
repeatedly pinged as the mouthwatering news poured in. Gutted was an
understatement.
Worse was to come when on Tuesday morning, Zak Spaull pulled out a gigantic find at
South Landing: a Rufous-tailed Robin!
With only four previous records, this was
jaw-dropping. When news came through that it had moved into the ravine near the Whale Bridge in thick cover, I feared it would vanish and never be seen again.
However, Wednesday unfolded and the bird seemed to be showing every two hours
or so, along the stream just down from the Whale Bridge- exactly where I’d watched
a migrant Water Rail on Saturday morning. Reports from those on site was that
it was very elusive and very difficult to view, with the crowd three deep and
only some of those at the front getting a glimpse. People had been there for
several hours and not seen it. This didn't sound like fun! With Thursday off work, I counted down the hours - there was no way I was not
going to try for this bird. Sometimes just being part of the story is enough –
which is what I tell myself when I miss the bird! The advice coming out of South
Landing was get there before first light to ensure you get a spot at the fence,
otherwise, bring a ladder.

Back to this morning (Thursday). I had overslept and dawn was peeking
through the curtains. It would have to be option two: a stepladder. I headed
east, along quiet Wolds roads, my pulse quickening slightly as the familiar
landmarks rolled by and the headland loomed on the horizon. I arrived at South
Landing just before 8.30am and found several dozen cars already scattered
across the car park. I grabbed my stepladder and wandered down the track on the
northside of the ravine.
Some birders were on the path on the approach to the
Whale Bridge, but I almost gasped when I looked across the ravine and saw a
tightly packed throng of birders lining the fence, for about 30 metres! Yikes!
It was a slightly unnerving scene as this large crowd of perhaps 150 birders
was all but silent in the early morning light, focussing on the mass of brambles below. Spooky.
I headed round, noticing
a few familiar faces and some well-known birders, found a likely spot and
plonked down my stepladder. I received a few comments from nearby birders, who
supported my decision to bring this bit of kit. I clambered up, feeling I might
pitch forward and crowd-surf along the khaki collective. As luck would have
it, on a step ladder next to me was
Birdguides-own Sam Viles, who had a thermal scope with him - this would prove helpful. The vigil commenced, with intense binning of the streambed, brambly bank, fallen logs and tree roots.
After only 15
minutes, a nearby birder picked up the Rufous-tailed Robin on the stream edge
below. Few saw it, but it was a relief to know the bird was still here. Three
Tundra Bean Geese flew over the wood and barely got a mention; everybody was
totally focussed on the streambed. Now, I just had to be patient and keep
scanning. Over the next few minutes, tension rose as various birders got
glimpses through the brambles; those with thermals gave a steady commentary.
The bird seemed to be moving right to left. Down in the bottom was a large
Sycamore with exposed roots, shadowing a small open area, through which the little
stream in the bottom of the ravine ran. A couple of mossy logs lay on the
ground here. Out of nowhere, the Rufous-tailed Robin suddenly hopped out into the open, on to
a rock in the middle of the stream.
Rufous-tailed Robin, pics by John Harwood
Pandemonium broke out around as the front
row clapped their eyes on this East Asian prize. Birders two and three rows
back strained to see through the gaps between heads, or over shoulders. Elbows flew, voices were raised. Above the melee, from my
lofty perch I got a great view. It flicked up the bank and vanished. Wow! Like
a short-tailed Nightingale, with a big staring eye, pale eye-ring, and rusty-red
tail were the most striking features. It had been side-on the whole time, so I
hadn’t seen the famous spotty breast. Ten minutes later, it suddenly appeared
in the little dell again, but just as I focussed a Euro Robin took exception to
the interloper and chased it up the stream. It dived into the
brambles in front of us where it was only visible to the thermal crew. Several
tense minutes past before the Euro chased the Rufous-tailed back out and down
the ravine. It shot past the Sycamore and out of sight.
Rufous-tailed Robin, pic by John Harwood
Chuffed with my views,
all of which had been within the first hour after arrival, my disappointment
with myself of having slept-in evaporated without a trace. Minutes turned into
an hour and then as the two hour mark approached without further sightings, I
began to feel like departing to do some birding elsewhere on the Cape. Shortly
however, the bird suddenly appeared again, high up the slope to our left. I
couldn’t see it at first, but it flitted right and landed on the
horizontal mossy trunk of the large Sycamore right out in the open. It flicked
it’s wings and tail nervously, looking around, giving sensational views, dappled breast and all (for
those who could see it!) before dashing along the log and flying back down into
the stream. What a bird! Fantastic. Something I never thought I’d see in the
UK, let alone at Flamborough Head in my home county! The feeling of elation was
immense - I nearly wobbled off my stepladder.
Having filled my boots with this dream bird, it was time to head off. I decided I should offer my ladder to one of the other birders, and
Buckton legend Mark Thomas was close-by and he seemed pretty happy to take it
off my hands. Hopefully the little stepladder would continue to perform well.
Rufous-tailed Robin, pic by John Harwood
I headed up to Thornwick where I was joined after a bit by
old mate Andy Gibson. We looked for the Radde’s Warbler and failed, though I
was pretty sure I heard it call in the little plantation by the activity barn.
A Yellow-browed Warbler was more obliging, along with a few Chiffchaffs. A
Great Egret flew over in the blue sky, adding a touch of exotic class to proceedings and a nice
tick on my woeful Flamborough list.
We headed over to Holmes Gut to escape the
crowds and have a natter. A Ring Ouzel and Short-eared Owl were nice here, as
were 26 White-fronted Geese that flew over towards Thornwick. Not a lot else
happened, so saying ta-ra to Andy, I headed down to Old Fall.
Andy in Holmes and overflying White-fronts
Mark had passed
my steps to Pete Middleton and I was pleased to hear both of them had got great
views of the Robin from ‘up top’. Cool. Pete kindly returned them to the top of
Old Fall and after a chat, I wandered down the hedge to the plantation (I left the steps in the car).
A few
Goldcrests and Chiffchaffs were flicking about in the apple trees and willows
and I scoured every movement for something scarce. Time was getting on, but I
thought I’d have one last look in the willows by the pond on the north side. A
few tiny calls sounded promising, and locking on to a movement in a Hawthorn revealed a real treat for the eyes, a stunning male Firecrest, all stripes, and glowing bronze. It showed
briefly out in the open, a really beautiful bird and a superb finale to another
fab day on the head.
I packed my lucky stepladder and turned tail for home. After
a fairly low-key autumn, birdwise, for me, the Rufous-tailed Robin had really
rescued things, and I drove back west into the setting sun happy as larry.
Many thanks to John Harwood for letting me use his excellent pics of the Rufous-tailed Robin.
Firecrest