Kick off

Today was my first day of the whale-watching season guiding for Yorkshire Coast Nature. Trips have been running for several weeks and have been a great success, so I was looking forward to joining in the fun. We had a cracking morning, with at least 23 Minke Whales, mostly between three and five miles out, feeding on spawning Herring. Two large feeding frenzies were discovered with the sea boiling with Grey Seals and Minke Whales, with hundreds of Gannets, Herring Gulls and Fulmars all joining in. There were lots of Sooty Shearwaters around today, with at least 30 recorded (we normally only see a couple at this time of year) plus a massive highlight in the form of a stonking Great Shearwater, which glided in with a squad of Sooties and landed on the water right next to the boat. It then showed brilliantly on the water and cruising around for fifteen minutes. Only a couple of Manxies were seen today, but we added a smart Caspian Gull, half a dozen Great and Arctic Skuas, lots of terns and a few waders. A wonderful way to kick off the season!

From top: Caspian Gull, Gannet and Sooty Shearwater, Great Shearwater x2, Great and Sooty Shearwaters, Minke Whale, Grey Seal.

The Big Dee

I twitched the Hudsonian Godwit at the Dee Estuary on Friday. It had been seen a week earlier roosting at Burton Mere Wetlands, before disappearing and then being refound at the high tide roost on the Dee Estuary off Flint, Wales a few days later.

Right on the edge of my two hour twitch limit, and with a day off, the pull of this mega Yank wader was strong. Hudsonian Godwits are not common anywhere and this is only about the sixth ever in the UK, with the first being seen at Blacktoft Sands in the early 80s. Ever since then, it has been high on my list of vagrant waders to see, but I have never been anywhere near one... until now!

I arrived at Flint and made my way to a ridge at the top of the saltmarsh. This was a good vantage pooint from which to view the waders as they came into roost. With the tide coming in, me and a handful of other birders scoured the growing Black-tailed Godwit flock carefully. The saltmarsh fringe obscured many of the birds and apart from one interesting candidate (which I later dismissed), the Hudwit remained elusive. A few claims were made, but I saw nothing convincing, and I think a little desperation was creeping in to some birders. The bird was probably there somewhere, just out of view.

At a little after 2pm, the tide peaked and the immense Blackwit flock moved a few hundred metres onto the saltmarsh proper, giving more unobstructed views. The godwits gathered in a packed line, spread out along the grass, many obscured by other birds, or by the grass itself. We all scoped the flock hard for 45 minutes and our best efforts failed to pick out the smaller Hudsonian. A little desperation set in, and I began to wonder when the tide would drop and the godwits would disperse, ending our chances. 

Needle in a haystack
 

Fortunately, a hunting Peregrine came to the rescue, flushing the flock, which erupted skywards over the estuary. I switched from scope to bins, knowing this could be our moment, and sure enough as the Blackwit flock turned as one flashing silvery white underwings, my eye locked on to the odd one out - the black bird in among the white. This was the Hudsonian Godwit, helpfully sporting contrasting sooty underwings. It stood out very conspicuously. I yelled out its appearance and the other birders latched on to it quickly too. Superb!

Pic by JWN Andrews

After a while, the flock landed, looking jittery, for the hungry falcon was still at large, trying her luck further down the expanses of the big Dee Estuary. Shortly, she returned and the flock flushed again, revealing, as if by magic, our American visitor.  Again the flock settled back on to the saltmarsh after a minute or so and we all grilled the flock to no avail. After the third flight and subsequent return, I picked up the Hudwit sleeping on the near edge of the flock. There was no doubt; a strong white loral stripe above a dark lore, blackish feathers on the mantle and dark burgundy barring on the belly. He was also noticeably smaller than the Blackwits, perhaps 10-15%. After watching him for a few minutes, he woke up and wandered casually into the flock, where he melted into the larger Blackwits and vanished. It was time to go so with a big successful twitch smile on my face, I ploughed back east through the Friday afternoon traffic. 

Corfu August 2024: Hot Island Birding

Had a week at the north end of Corfu with the family in mid-August. It was very hot, but the north end is surprisingly green with plenty of trees (a mix of olive groves, Holm Oaks etc) under which you can find a bit of shade. With temperatures approaching 40C, birding was restricted to early mornings only. Only one new bird, Western Rock Nuthatch, four of which were seen bouncing about on the boulders on the slope just down from the monastery at the summit of Mount Pantokrater (pic below). 

 

 A few notable southeastern European birds, including Eastern Olivaceous and Eastern Subalpine Warblers and Lesser Grey Shrikes, but my biggest highlight was the several hundred Alpine Swifts tearing noisily around the rooftops in Corfu (Kerkira) Old Town, one evening, which was fantastic. The noise from these birds was incredible and at dusk a kettle of perhaps 500 birds gathered in a swirling cloud over the city. This made up for the melancholy I felt for missing my two Swiftlings fledge back home, which would have happened around the 12th. The best site I found was Souvara Pond near the northeastern tip of the island. 

 

This held a few breeding and passage waders and was surrounded by reedbeds containing Great Reed and Cetti's Warblers. The surrounding olive groves and scrub contained plenty of warblers, Nightingales and shrikes and was enjoyable birding. I would love to revisit this area in the spring, as I suspect it is heaving with migrants and singing summer visitors. Maybe next year!

 

Mega Alpine Swifts!

Second Chance

Two weeks ago, I dipped the Finningley Black-winged Pratincole on the day England made it through to the Euro quarter finals. The bird had flown off twenty minutes before we arrived and wasn't seen again for five days. 

I hadn't had chance to try to see the bird since, until today, when on my return journey from Birdfair, I realised I'd be passing pretty close to the site. Birdfair was fab, with the day spent working on the Yorkshire Coast Nature stand, meeting old friends and making new ones, spending too much on new books and generally having a good laugh. Finningley was only 15 minutes out of the way so not long after leaving the A1 at Blyth, we arrived at Croft Road. Smiling birders were departing, which is always a good sign, and they shared the good news that the Pratincole was showing well, despite the cold, drizzly July weather. Sure enough, a few minutes later and we were watching this elegant bird walking around among a flock of Lapwings, loafing on a bund in the small lake. 

 

Black-winged Pratincole, Finningley, South Yorkshire 14/07/24

The bird was much darker, slate grey-brown above, than Collared Pratincole, with a shorter tail (not projecting beyond folded wings), long legs and dark mask being the most distinctive features, with only a small amount of red on the bill base. As usual, a really cool-looking bird and pleasing to see one in Yorkshire, my only other British sighting being in Norfolk way back in 2009.

 

Despite the poor weather, the bird seemed to grab a few insects off the flowering Ragwort, by jumping up, neck outstretched. The Lapwing flock was flushed a couple of times and the Pratincole flew round with them, looking very smart in flight, with black underwings, and a short white, dark-edged forked tail. We watched the bird for an hour before heading home. 

England are playing tonight in the Euro final, against Spain.This is our second chance to win the cup, so fingers crossed. As with this Pratincole, second chances do sometimes work out!

 

Wheldrake Spooner

Adam Firth found a juvenile Spoonbill at Bank Island first thing Friday morning. I had the afternoon off, so headed up there to see if it was still around. It wasnt, having flown off south before I arrived. As there isn't a lot of suitable Spoonbill habitat in the LDV at this time of year, I thought it could have dropped in at the pool on Wheldrake Ings. Or completely gone! Anyway, I headed down there and sure enough it was roosting at the back of the pool, occasionally waking up to preen. A bird of the year, this may well have come from the small breeding colony at Fairburn Ings, in West Yorkshire. Also present, three Green Sandpipers, heralding the autumn (!), a Hobby catching dragonflies and three broods of Shovelers. 

Another Good Tern

On a busy Saturday, my only chance of twitching the Finningley Black-winged Pratincole was when England men were playing in their Euro 'last 16' football match. I decided I could listen to the match on the radio, and see if I could get this really rare wader on my Yorkshire list. The bird was present right on the border between South Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire but had been seen several times on the Yorkshire side of the border, so it was worth a go. Pratincoles are cracking birds too, and I have only seen one Black-winged before, in Norfolk, years ago. Unfortunately, this bird flew off into Nottinghamshire and disappeared completely, 20 minutes before James and Barry Byatt and myself arrived, so we dipped. 

A striking Caspian Tern was not a bad consolation and showed beautifully, loafing on the scrape amid the gulls and waders, and also flying about, calling like a deranged Heron. It headed off high into Yorkshire at one point, but dropped back in later on. 

Almost as good was an unexpected Turtle Dove that flew along the leafy hedgerow on the south side of the gravel workings. Other birds on the gravel workings included Greenshank, Redshank, Black-tailed Godwit, two fine Black-necked Grebes and a singing Corn Bunting. The pratincole vanished until being refound in the same spot five days later (yesterday). And England won, getting through to the quarter finals. 

 

 

 

Showy Marsh

A recent visit to see a Marsh Warbler was a success with the bird giving great views despite the wind, singing from the top of an Elder bush. As usual, a frenetic song, threaded with mimicry, with the songs and calls of Great Tit, Blackbird, Swallow, Common Tern, Quail and Bee-eater all delivered with great skill.  There were undoubtedly other calls in there that I didn't recognise, perhaps of birds heard on the bird's migration or during the winter in Africa. 

Typically, a dull grey-brown Acro, with contrasty tertials and nice pale primary tips. A well-marked head-pattern with distinct pale supercilum extending well past the eye, with an obvious dark eye-stripe and a white throat. 

Seven Tern Delight

4am, Sunday morning, I woke with a start and then couldn't get back to sleep. Blackbirds were singing loudly outside, in a murky Yorkshire dawn, as light crept round the sides of the blind and through the thin curtains.

I tried to dismiss thoughts of twitching the Northumberland Bridled Tern which had lingered temptingly on Coquet Island for the past week, but the allure ate away at my tired brain. Even if I dipped the Bridled Tern, the prospect of Roseate Terns among an incredible seabird spectacle just seemed a sensible option at that unearthly hour. I mulled this over as I dozed and then slunk out of bed at 5am. 

 

Just under two hours of empty roads later, I pulled into High Hauxley car park at the foot of the dunes. A couple of birders were already present and as I approached, a kind birder offered me a look through his scope - this was promising! I squinted through with tired eyes and there was the Bridled Tern, happily preening among the Puffins! Class. Coquet Island lies about a mile offshore, so the views were distant to say the least, but with good visibility and full zoom, the views were reasonable. After a while, many of the terns flushed, and the Bridled took off too, floating around above the island. In flight it looked large and rangey, with long slender wings and long neck and tail, giving perhaps a different jizz to what I had imagined. Against the dark grassy top of the island, the bird looked decidedly dusky grey-brown, with plenty of pale in the outertail. The bird tried to land several times, but was chased away time and again either by an Arctic Tern, or a Puffin. Eventually, it landed at the top of some stone steps, where it seemed to avoid the attentions of its feisty neighbours. After a while, I turned my attention to the nestboxes put out specifically for the island's Roseate Tern colony. Several were loafing on top of the boxes, whilst more were floating angelically above the colony, shining bright-white in the morning sunshine with impossibly-long tail streamers. It felt quite emotional to see the remnants of England's only Roseate colony, which has been ravaged hard by avian flu. The 100 pair strong colony had been decimated, so it was a relieved to see at least several pairs in residence. Let's hope the flu has gone. I watched these elegant birds for several minutes, noting a number of Sandwich Terns cruising past and a few Common Terns among the hordes of Arctics. 

 

The lure of a seventh tern species a short drive north was too much, and having had my fill of the Bridled Tern, I snaked my way up the coast road. Thanks to some good gen from a fellow Bridled twitcher, I knew where to head once arriving at the Newton Stead car park. A wooden hut lies about a kilometre north looking out over the rivermouth, known as Long Nanny. There were four birders present, one of which was Damian Money who I have followed on X/Twitter for ages, so it was great to have a chat with him.

To my astonishment, right in front of the hut are breeding Arctic Terns, literally a few metres away. This was just amazing - one of my favourite birds right there. 

 And, tucked away, nestling behind some marram, was a dusky shadow, which soon stood up to call excitedly at an arriving Arctic Tern; the female American Black Tern, in all her cinerous glory. I had no idea this bird, which has hung out here the last few summers showed this well and this close. This year, 'Nige' has proved himself to be a herself, as she has paired up with a male Arctic Tern, and to everybody's amazement, has laid a clutch of eggs, although there is one train of thought that she has adopted the eggs from a lost female Arctic. Nobody knows yet whether they will hatch, but if they do, it will be really interesting to see what the young look like! The frenetic activity of the Arctic colony was exhillarating to watch and the American Black Tern played her part, frequently taking off to join the throng of Arctics, to ward off a passing gull or crow, or to defend her eggs from intruding Arctic Tern neighbours. Her gape was bright orange-red, contrasting with her black head and bill, almost Black Guillemot like. A really beautiful bird.

 

 Scanning towards the river, I noticed quite a few Little Terns hung out in a fenced area, and large numbers of Arctic Terns and a few Common Terns gathered on the sandbanks and beach. This really was an unexpected delight and would have been exceptional without the mega rare Yank visitor. 

                             

So, it had been a seven tern morning, something I probably won't witness again in a while. I drifted back through the dunes, enjoying flurries of Northern Marsh Orchids, amid Burnet Rose and sprays of Bloody Cranesbill, with the shrill calls of the terns fading into the distance. I bumped into Johnny Mac with a tour group, and wished him well, before heading back south.

I don't twitch very far these days, and certainly not out of Yorkshire, so this morning was a real treat. 

 

York's first Great Reed Warbler

We have been talking a lot about Great Reed Warblers during the last few springs and the hope that one might finally grace the York area. A record seemed to be on the cards, but so far we had been disappointed. One-day birds at Staveley and to the south at Idle Valley a couple of weeks ago, hinted that this year we might get lucky, but without extensive reedbeds in the area, perhaps there just isn't enough habitat to attract a passing migrant.

After some really early starts this week, I needed a lie-in on Saturday (well, until 7.15am!) before heading out birding. Turning my phone on, it bleeped repeatedly as 17 messages in a Whatsapp group flashed through - this must be some big bird news from York! Sure enough, the day had come - Adam Firth had found a Great Reed Warbler! The bird was singing in willows by the River Derwent between Bank Island and Wheldrake Ings bridge. Panic!

I grabbed my gear, apologised to the dog and promised Vicky I'd be back in an hour (we were due to head south for my mother-in-law's 80th birthday mid-morning). Arriving in quick time, I scampered down the path from the car park in the beautiful early morning sunshine. Within moments, the loud grating 'trak trak trak' reached my ears - it was still here! I met Chris Gomersall, Duncan Bye and Adam, and together we listening to the monster acro singing from the nearby trees. Frustratingly, we couldn't get a view, but after a while, it flew further up the river towards Bank Island. Still out of view, it sang again before flying further. Perhaps it was heading for the small reedbed on Bank Island? Adam and Duncan left and Chris and me went round to the hide. Sure enough, our hunch was right and the bird's grating song could be heard from the reeds. Moments later, Chris announced he could see it and training my scope on it, we both got fantastic views as it sat on top of the reeds in the morning sun. After a couple of pics, I took a short video before it dropped into the reeds at about 8am. It stopped singing and I needed to head off, so left Chris to it. An expected York first, but still a fantastic surprise first thing on the Bank Holiday weekend! Well done, Adam!

The bird went quiet hereafter and briefly sang unseen in riverside willows early afternoon and then again in the evening, but had gone the next day.

Death Shrike

It has been a pretty incredible week for drift migrants on the east coast, with incredible numbers of Red-backed Shrikes, including over 30 on Fair Isle and ten at Flamborough Head, dumped by heavy rain and an easterly airflow. Mix in a scattering of Icterine and Marsh Warblers, Bluethroats and Common Rosefinches, and the east coast has had a distinctly southern Scandinavian feel. I have had a fab week at work, but have been pining for the coast and this fall of eastern gems.  

Yesterday, ahead of taking the YWT board on a site visit, I popped into one of our woodland nature reserves to see a Wood Warbler that has been holding territory for a while. I heard the bird as soon as I jumped out of the car and soon was treated to a spectacular show as this exquisite phyllosc, parachuted and shivered around me, delivering its two quite different songs with impressive volume. 

 

It seemed to favour low, bare branches of the Beech trees, and if I sat quietly against a tree-trunk, it would sing within ten feet of me. Absolutely brilliant. I didn't have a camera, but recorded the best bit - it's song, on my phone. Nearby, it was nice to see some Bird's-nest Orchids flowering on the usual slope, beneath the Beeches. 

Wood Warbler on passage in Cyprus, April 2023.

 

Today, I was up before the lark and headed east to check for any remnants of the coastal fall, at Flamborough Head.  The Old Fall Loop was fruitless, until I got to the Lighthouse Grasslands where yesterday's Icterine Warbler was knocking out a squeaky toy-laced chattering song from the Motorway willows. Ickys are great birds; the pale-lemon face and throat is not really reminiscent of anything else, though with this one's white belly, it did remind me a bit of yesterday's Wood Warbler's underparts. The long bill and bright orange mouth were most obvious as the bird burbled and tinkled from the edge of the hedge, offering great views. This individual sported a really well-marked pale wing panel, khaki upperparts, a typically beady eye and steely grey legs. My fellow YCN guide Mark Pearson arrived with a small tour group and we together enjoyed great views as the bird continued to perform beautifully.

 

Around the corner, a lingering male Red-backed Shrike preened from a bank of brambles in the Gorse Field. I was delighted to see this bird and witness part of the memorable fall of this smart species. After watching it for several minutes, I headed back round to the car, with a rather Scandinavian-looking Willow Warbler in the Golf Course Willows, the only other notable migrant. 

 

I decided to check Holmes Gut and after jumping the gate, a Spotted Flycatcher zipped up on to the hedge-top - a good start! After a chat with Dave Woodmansey, I ambled through the long grass, carefully checking the hedgerow and willows. Not a lot stirred, though some Swifts were feeding low-down over the bushes, giving awesome views. I stood a while to drink in my favourite birds, as they pelted past, mouths agape. Nothing was doing and time was running out. Work beckoned so I headed back to the car. The Spot Fly was looking rather agitated on top of the hedge near the Yorkshire Water compound. Nearby, I could see another bird on the barbed wire fence that encircles the compound. Lifting my bins, a female Red-backed Shrike snapped into focus! Fantastic! Not as smart as the earlier male, but a self-find always feels more rewarding. She sat motionless, surveying the scene, showing beautifully. If only I had my DSLR! I snapped a quick record shot with my phone and moments later she dropped down into the compound then flew up into the low branches of the Sycamore. This set off chaos among previously-unseen small birds who clearly were not happy to share their bit of cover with a predator and I saw Garden Warbler and Blackcap, along with the Spot Fly, mobbing the shrike. I got a glimpse of what was probably a female Pied Flycatcher but it moved into cover before I could nail it. 

Red-backed Shrike on the fence. Honest!
 

The shrike decided it was time to move on, and dropped into the back of the hedge and out of sight. Having been lucky enough to find a good bird right at the death, it was time to depart for work.

Garganey Party

Last Wednesday I headed out to North Duffield Carrs after tea to see if there was any passage waders. One Tundra Ringed Plover was the only one present, but the evening was stolen by a veritable Garganey party, with several males cavorting around, calling and displaying in front of, yes, Garganey Hide! Such class little ducks and their rattling call could be clearly heard as they flew and swam around looking for females.

And some video...

Turnstone - Osprey Combo

A pretty fab half hour at North Duffield Carrs yielded a flock of waders, which through the scope proved to be ten Ringed Plovers and two Turnstones heading north up the valley. As if that wasn't good enough, twenty five minutes later, my sky-scanning revealed a big raptor, an Osprey! It has been a great spring for Ospreys in the LDV and I was delighted to finally catch up with one. It circled briefly over Aughton floods before continuing upriver. 

 

These sightings spurred me on to check more sites, but a message about a Nightingale at Flamborough - a much sought-after Yorkshire bird - got me heading coastwards. Unfortunately, the skulking chat was skulking a little too deeply in the brambles and had also fallen silent, so after an hour, I admitted defeat and went to look at the first-summer male Siberian Stonechat, which was bouncing around in the Gorse Field. After watching that for a bit, I did the Old Fall loop, which was relatively quiet, though a Whimbrel and a dapper male Pied Flycatcher were very welcome. 

Siberian Stonechat. Post script - 24th May, DNA analysis of this bird has proven it is Siberian Stonechat, Saxicola maurus. 

Pied Flycatcher

Always Look Up!

Well, Friday 10th May was a bit mad! After the highs of Carrifran and Golden Eagles, the week seemed to be ending on a low slide, though warm weather and the promise of Swifts and some easterly migratory drift raised my hopes for the weekend. 

Part One - Enter the barn-door

I left work a little early and nipped down to North Duffield. There had been two immaculate White-winged Black Terns at North Cave Wetlands all day, but I fancied the lure of the LDV and a tailwind to assist, would prove too much and I over-optimistically daydreamed of seeing these eastern pied wonders flitting over the verdant flooded meadows....

This wasn't to be, and after a brief chat with NDC legend Alan Whitehead and a mutually-enjoyed Great Egret, it was me who would head east, as opposed to the two terns heading west. A bit later, I was enjoying great views of this pair of marsh terns, firstly loafing, long-legged on a shingle island, before heading over to Crosslands Lake to feed on insects emerging from the water below. I bumped into the Considerate Birders, who I had followed for ages on Twitter/X but never actually met. We chatted birds, birders and the birding life whilst watching these dashing terns flickering across the water. A nice way to end a fab week... 

...

Most birders had drifted off, as teatime had arrived, leaving the three of us and another guy to enjoy the terns at our leisure. Something disturbed the gulls and I thought I heard one of the local Med Gulls calling. I casually mentioned that perhaps a raptor had flushed the gull colony, as there seemed to be a lot of angry birds in the air. The other guy said that there was indeed a raptor among the erupting gulls. I lifted my bins, and saw a jaw-dropping behemoth, a flipping sea-eagle, crusing round over the lake! 

I yelled 'it's a White-tailed Eagle!' perhaps a little too loudly, and pandemonium broke out. Cameras clicked, Abi ran off down the road to stop one of the local birders from driving off unaware of the absolute scene occurring behind him; I got a hasty video clip then followed Abi and yelled 'Sea-eagle!' at the top of my lungs to alert any birders in the vicinity, before calling Birdguides to put the news out. Birders came running from all over, and a handful caught sight of this majesterial barn-door casually circling overhead, oblivious to the berserk mob of gulls, terns and Shelducks (!) harrassing it. Breathless birders came running, desperately asking where it was. We just pointed upwards! After a couple of minutes, the young eagle glided north, losing height and appearing to be aiming to land. 

 

The crowd was now a mix of birders beaming like buffoons, totally shocked at what had just happened out of nowhere, and disappointed folk who had arrived moments too late. There were some who weren't even aware of what they'd just missed, and were perplexed why nobody was looking at the two White-winged Black Terns that were nonchalantly flying up and down in front of us all, as if nothing had happened! 

After getting myself back together, I decided to head home for tea. I drove the road just north of the site in order to check the fields for a loafing eagle. I bumped into a birder scoping a field - perhaps he was watching the eagle. He wasn't; he hadn''t even heard about what had just happened down the road. Farmers went about their business; a Whimbrel flew past calling, which was nice, but there was no sign of the behemoth. Perhaps it had carried on north after all. I drove home feeling exhillarated. Birding is sometimes like that! 

 Post-script:  Tim Mackrill from the Roy Dennis Foundation confirmed this bird's identity via Twitter:

"Hi Jono, yes that was G544, a female translocated to the Isle of Wight last year from Lewis. She has since travelled further north into southern Scotland."

Part Two - Something in the sky

It was nearly time to go and pick my son, Sol, up from Air Cadets, when I got an alert on my phone: The Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, was currently going off due to a massive solar storm. It should be visible just about anywhere in Britain. Wow! Unfortunately, being about 8pm, it was still light. Drat! 

I have had a turbulent and mostly disappointing relationship with this celestial phenomenon. I first saw it over the Great Glen on New Year's Eve, back in 2016, when green columns lit up the snowy Scottish mountains. Since then, I have tried and failed countless times in Yorkshire, shooting out on cold January nights to park up away from the city lights to sit shivering and looking up at a cloudy winter's sky. Even Tromso, in north Norway let me down, with overcast conditions foiling me again, a couple of autumns ago. 

So, as I picked Sol up I wasn't particularly optimistic about the coming evening. To my surprise, Sol was quite keen to give it a try. I had decided that Strensall Common north of York would be a good, dark spot, with a wide open vista giving us a good view of the sky. It seemed to be very clear too, with little cloud to ruin our chances. My wife, Vicky, is well-accustomed to my mad dashes at random times of day, and with no work or school tomorrow, was fine with Sol going with me. We headed round the ring road and soon arrived at Strensall, to a deserted car park. Even if we didn't see the Aurora I felt we had a chance of hearing an early Nightjar or perhaps a Long-eared Owl. Anyway, I was still buzzing from the earlier eagle-incident, so a nightime jaunt on to the common seemed like a fun thing to do. 

Risking sheep shit and midges, we found a good position on the heath. The sky still seemed a bit too light even though it was 10pm. I was still quite hopeful; if it would just get dark! After a while, we began to notice a pale band of sky in the north. Was this cloud, or just the last dying remnants of Friday, ebbing away?  Sol took a pic with his phone, and to our surprise this showed the band of sky to be a distinctly pastel green. I wasn't totally convinced that this was something rather then nothing, but a few minutes later a kind of vertical column of green appeared in the sky. The Aurora had arrived! 

Over the next half an hour, the lights grew stronger. Shapes shifted and grew brighter, before fading, but each fade was replaced by something more impressive. The thing in the sky seemed to be growing brighter as the sky grew darker. Long shafts of pale green light now projected downwards from the sky; this was really it, the Northern Lights at last! Sol was clearly excited; I was dancing around. I managed a pic with my phone and stuck it on Twitter and a few Whatsapp groups to alert friends and followers. Soon, I started receiving pics and messages from others watching this spectacle too, as far south as the fens in Cambridgeshire.

And then, at about 11pm, something astonishing happened. An arc of light spread right overhead from the northeast horizon right over, like a giant nocturnal rainbow and it turned bright pink! We could not believe what we were seeing. Directly overhead, beams of magenta seemed to be protruding out of space down towards us. I suddenly felt very small and fragile - this was a mysterious and ominous cosmic force. We just stared upwards, mouths agape. Through the phonescreen, you could see the lights pulsate and ripple, like waves crashing on to our atmosphere. It was a truly wondrous, awe-inspiring sight and made me feel quite emotional to witness it so close to home.

Getting myself together, I realised it was getting on for midnight and I really wanted the rest of the family to see this, so we headed home. The Aurora was so bright by now that we could see it overhead through the windscreen all the way back round the ringroad to Bishopthorpe, only being masked by the brightest of streetlights. I was hoping we could see it over our house and sure enough as we piled out of the car there it was, streaking across the sky. I woke Vicky and she came out to enjoy the view, but sadly my daughter was fast asleep. 

 I headed to bed, buzzing, having witnessed a once in a lifetime event - certainly round here! Nature is amazing!