Welcome to the BirdGuides Podcast with me, Josh Jones,
and I'm joined by my colleagues David Campbell.
Hello, David.
Hi there.
And Ian Lewington. How are you doing, Ian?
Hey Josh. I'm all right, thanks.
Thanks for tuning in to the inaugural BirdGuides Podcast.
In this episode, and those to come, we'll be discussing birds and birding
in Britain, Ireland and beyond.
We'll be covering the latest breaking rarities, movements, influxes,
falls, migration stories, ornithological discoveries,
splits and lumps, patch birding,
and pretty much anything going on in the birding world.
First and foremost, how are you guys?
Have you been enjoying a relaxed midsummer break,
or are your binoculars still going everywhere with you?
How about you, David?
Yeah, it's definitely winding down now, isn't it?
But I feel like we're already into autumn.
I had my first Green Sandpiper the other day.
It never sleeps, does it, birding?
There's always something on the go.
I found myself in Caernarfon at the weekend,
looking at the Western Reef Heron.
I did not expect to be doing that when I woke up
on Saturday morning.
Yes indeed. That's the exciting recent news
just before we came on air.
Britain's first Western Reef Heron had been found
in north-west Wales.
Hundreds, if not thousands, of people descended
on the Caernarfon area over the first weekend,
but more on that to come later.
It's been a pretty steady spring overall, I think,
and we'll get into that a bit later in the show.
As this is our first ever podcast, and many of you
might not have a clue who we are,
I thought it'd be apt for you to get to know us
a little better today.
So first of all, David,
do you want to talk us through how long you've been birding,
and how you got into the hobby?
Ever since I can remember, really.
As a kid I was into trains,
then dinosaurs,
which led to buying animal encyclopaedias,
and I was always drawn to the bird section.
But there was a spark moment
in the playground in Year Three,
when a Sparrowhawk flew over my head.
I looked up, and that sparked my curiosity.
I got one of those little Collins Gem bird books,
and it all went from there.
The curiosity has never diminished.
So you've always had a soft spot for Sparrowhawks?
Oh yes.
I might even get a Sparrowhawk tattoo one day.
Really?
Every time a new field guide came out,
I'd always judge it
by how well the adult male Sparrowhawk was illustrated.
That was my benchmark.
That decided whether it was worth buying.
Exactly.
Tell us a little about where you're based,
and your local patch.
I'm based in Hastings. I've lived in Sussex
for about eight years...
...living up in Liverpool.
We moved down to London in 1978,
and there was a local event where you could meet Bill Oddie.
Obviously I knew him from The Goodies.
It turned out to be a ruse to get people to sign up
for coach trips with the local Epping Forest RSPB group.
Before I knew what had happened, I was on a coach trip to Pagham,
which was epic.
I made some new friends through that,
and before long I was off twitching.
I've been birding properly since 1982,
which is an awfully long time.
It is a long time.
Several years before I was born.
I've been seeing rarities since before you existed,
which is really quite scary.
And how long have you been at Birdwatch?
I started in November 1997,
so I'm coming up to twenty-nine years.
Again, an awfully long time.
Publishing, and the world of Birdwatch, has changed massively.
We used to produce the magazine using four-sheet film,
before the internet.
It's changed beyond all recognition.
Tell us a bit about your patch.
You're based in north London.
I'm at the bottom end of Epping Forest,
about a mile from King George V Reservoir.
It's one of the reservoirs along the Lee Valley.
You can access it with a Thames Water permit,
and I work it hard during the spring.
The tern passage can be excellent,
along with Little Gulls
and the occasional rarity.
Then in autumn, the waders come back,
along with the odd tern.
Midsummer is quieter.
I spend more time looking for butterflies
in the forest and taking a break.
Being patch birders,
you're always hoping for the odd rarity.
David, what's your number one patch find?
Back in south London, where I grew up,
I birded my local patch obsessively
for about five years.
One day in early May,
a flock of waders started circling overhead.
Another birder wondered if they were Snipe
or Golden Plover.
I was photographing them,
but when I switched to my binoculars,
I realised they were Dotterel.
Fifteen Dotterel,
in spring, in Surrey.
They landed in a field behind a hedge
and fed there for the rest of the day.
It was the first Surrey record for 128 years.
One of those moments where you're pinching yourself.
Is this really happening?
I still think about it every week or two.
It really was extraordinary.
Ian, what about you?
You've had a pretty good spring this year.
I found a Red-rumped Swallow in April,
which I'd been hoping to find
over King George V Reservoir for nearly forty years.
Finally finding one was really exciting.
But my best patch bird
was probably the Short-toed Lark.
That was completely unexpected.
You always think a Red-rumped Swallow might pass through the Lee Valley,
but a Short-toed Lark on the bank of
King George V Reservoir in May...
That really was the highlight.
Those are the moments that stay with you.
You spend those first few seconds trying to convince yourself
it must be something else.
Surely this can't be happening.
Then it suddenly clicks, and the excitement takes over.
Finding something on your own local patch
always means that little bit more.
Totally.
What about twitching?
Apart from the Western Reef Heron,
have there been any standout ticks this year?
No, that's actually my only new bird this year.
I didn't go for Stejneger's Scoter.
There was one up in Scotland,
but these days I'm a little more reluctant
to spend hours driving
for what effectively looks like a burst tyre.
That one stayed safely unwatched.
I think we're all in a similar position.
David?
Yes, I think I've dropped the ball a bit since COVID.
I've done the odd twitch,
like the Magnolia Warbler in Wales.
A Canada Warbler turned up nearby
while I was there, which was amazing.
I've still done the occasional twitch,
but driving for hours
to see a bird someone else has found
doesn't have quite the same appeal now.
Although I'm still tempted by the Western Reef Heron.
If I can, I'd like to get up there.
I'm much the same.
I'd probably describe myself
as a failed twitcher.
I absolutely loved it for many years,
but through my twenties
I found it became too much effort.
Most birds I needed
were a very long drive away.
The Highlands, the islands...
There was always a logistical challenge.
When I moved back to Lincolnshire in 2020,
I realised how good my local area was.
So I largely parked the twitching.
Very occasionally
I'll still go for something that really inspires me,
but they're few and far between now.
Driving hundreds of miles
to see a bird that's already been photographed to death...
Sometimes it feels
like you've already seen it better on your phone screen
than you will in the field.
Definitely.
I'll still travel a long way
for a really good birding experience,
just not necessarily
for one individual bird.
What's been your best birding trip this year?
Fresh in the memory,
a trip to Western Sahara
with my friend and colleague Ed.
It was fantastic.
Lots of desert birds I'd never seen before.
The standout was definitely Hoopoe Lark.
Watching a Hoopoe Lark perform its display flight.
It was incredible.
It floated up and down
like a paper aeroplane.
That was definitely the highlight.
The year before, I went to Marion Island.
Apart from the Black-browed Albatross
I'd seen in Yorkshire,
those were my first albatrosses.
Especially the Snowy Wandering Albatrosses,
and, of course, the penguins.
That was another brilliant trip.
Sounds amazing.
Ian, have you been anywhere good this year?
Sri Lanka in January.
That was pretty epic.
I went with my wife,
so it wasn't officially a birding trip,
although we somehow managed
to see all the endemics.
We also saw some fantastic mammals.
Sri Lanka is just wonderful.
The people are friendly,
the food is fantastic,
the scenery is brilliant,
and the birding is superb.
It's packed with endemics.
I absolutely loved it.
The birds there are so showy as well.
That's always what strikes me about the Indian subcontinent.
They're far more visible than many birds back home.
It's actually an ideal place
to visit with a non-birding partner.
You can indulge your birding passion
without spending three hours
waiting outside a sewage works
for something to stick its head out of the reeds.
My long-suffering wife
has visited several sewage works around the world.
You're not long back from Finland either,
are you, David?
No. I go every year.
My partner's family has a summer house
on the Baltic coast, not far from Porvoo.
I'm very lucky to spend time there.
This year was the earliest I've gone in spring.
I hadn't appreciated
just how much wildfowl passage takes place in early May.
Thousands of Barnacle Geese
were flying east overhead
towards Russia,
and there were about three hundred
Tundra Bean Geese
feeding in fields near the village.
I also picked up a new life bird.
Just five minutes from the house,
I found a pair of Hazel Grouse.
I'd never seen them before.
They're incredibly difficult birds to see.
I've heard them many times,
but they always seem to stay just out of view.
This pair kept flying across the track.
I kept thinking they'd land out in the open,
but they always disappeared
into the spruce.
Eventually one popped out
onto a rock,
and I managed a lovely photograph.
I remember looking for them in Sweden.
One of my friends
had one of the whistles the hunters use.
It didn't attract any Hazel Grouse,
but it did attract a dog!
It's such a high-pitched whistle.
Almost like one of those dog whistles.
Exactly.
The poor dog came charging out of the forest,
looking completely confused.
It probably thought there was a wolf.
Hazel Grouse are brilliant birds.
I've also seen them in Estonia,
where they seem to be a bit easier.
Their call always reminds me
of a Yellow-browed Warbler.
Yes, it's got that same high-pitched quality.
That's funny, because I remember
being in the Ural Mountains in Russia.
Yellow-browed Warblers were everywhere
in the wetter valleys,
singing constantly.
Then we'd head into the pine forest
and hear exactly the same sort of sound.
You'd think,
"Surely that's another Yellow-browed Warbler."
Then you'd realise it was actually
a Hazel Grouse.
They were incredibly difficult to see.
Mostly just rear-end views
disappearing through the trees.
Very smart birds though.
What about autumn plans?
Ian, are you heading back to Scilly?
Yes, I'll be going again.
I think this will be my eighth or ninth year
in a row.
A few of us will be based in Hugh Town,
and we'll spend October
searching the islands.
The first time I went was in 1985.
That was an excellent year.
A fantastic autumn for American birds.
Parula Warbler,
Yellow-billed Cuckoo,
and plenty of others.
These days,
our routes tend to be planned
between cafés and cake shops,
with a bit of birding in between.
The odd cream tea.
Absolutely.
Hopefully we'll find
equal numbers of rarities and slices of cake.
Quite a few people
have been going every year
since the late 1970s.
We've all become
silverback birders now.
The days of charging around the islands
like we did in the 1980s
are well behind us.
But I'm really looking forward to it.
David, what about you?
Nothing booked yet,
although I'm thinking about Fife.
My partner's family has a place there,
within reach of the Isle of May,
Fife Ness
and Kilminning.
I'd quite like to do an autumn trip there.
I used to go to Scilly every year,
but I've fallen out of the habit.
That stretch of coast
must be quite under-watched.
Yes, and it's excellent for seawatching too.
There are some really good wader sites as well.
I just love anywhere that feels Celtic,
whether that's Cornwall or Scotland.
So Josh,
when did you first pick up a pair of binoculars?
I must have been a toddler.
Apparently I saw the Oriental Pratincole
at Gimingham in Norfolk.
I think I actually saw you there.
Your parents were saying,
"Start them young."
I can picture Josh
carefully adding another tick.
I don't remember it, of course.
I was only about three years old.
I also remember seeing
the Dark-eyed Junco at Chester
around Christmas 1997.
I saw that one too.
Someone in a local shop asked
what was around.
They were told,
"There's a Dark-eyed Junco from America."
They replied,
"If it comes into my garden, I'll throw a brick at it."
I really caught the birding bug
when I was about twelve or thirteen,
once I was allowed to go birding on my own.
I started visiting the local gravel pits
near my village.
That was really my gateway
into patch birding.
I learned my trade there,
walking round
day after day,
usually seeing very little,
just learning my birds.
From there
everything snowballed.
I got into twitching in my teens,
and that lasted
for the next ten to fifteen years.
How did you connect
with the wider birding community?
There was a really good
Peterborough Bird Club
with a vibrant local scene.
Lots of experienced birders
took me under their wing.
It was also the era of Yahoo Groups.
Remember those?
There was a Peterbirder group,
and I'd sit there
waiting for the emails
to come through on dial-up internet.
Eventually there'd be an update saying
a Green Sandpiper
had been seen at Etton,
and it all felt incredibly exciting.
Those were very humble beginnings,
but there was a great local scene,
and they really encouraged me.
I just became completely obsessed.
Same for me.
David,
what were some of your earliest twitches,
Josh?
The first ones I chose—
or rather persuaded my parents—
to drive me to
were around 2003.
My dad's enthusiasm was fading,
just as mine was taking off.
The first really big twitch
was the Black Lark on Anglesey.
That was the first week of June 2003.
I saw it on its penultimate day.
It was absolutely stunning.
It was a glorious day at South Stack.
The sun was shining,
the heath was covered in flowers,
and the Black Lark looked incredible,
feeding quietly among the heather.
Then I wandered over to the cliffs
and added Manx Shearwater as well.
Those early twitches
were what really hooked you.
You'd travel for the mega rarities,
then end up picking up
other species along the way.
I remember seeing the White's Thrush
at Easington in October 2004.
About a week later
I finally ticked Ring Ouzel.
It was things like that
which made those years so memorable.
After the Black Lark,
everything followed quite quickly.
I went to Norfolk
for a Lesser Grey Shrike,
and there was also
a Sabine's Gull at Lowestoft.
That was a wonderfully showy bird
right along the seafront.
From then on
I was completely hooked.
By 2004,
my parents had a holiday home
in Norfolk,
so we spent a lot of time there.
It was close to Titchwell,
which became almost like
a second local patch.
There were so many good birds.
Sardinian Warbler at Winterton,
Collared Pratincole at Cley,
and Stilt Sandpiper at Burnham Norton.
Those early years were fantastic.
Once your list starts growing,
you end up travelling further and further,
and becoming more obsessive.
Was that around the time
you started going to Ireland?
Yes.
My first trip was probably
to Bridges of Ross around 2006.
I also twitched
the Canada Warbler that year
with Kit Day.
That was one bird
you simply couldn't miss.
That brilliant yellow plumage
among the autumn leaves
was absolutely stunning.
After that,
I started making regular winter trips
and became slightly obsessed
with gulls.
You know you're in trouble
when you become obsessed with gulls.
They really are endlessly fascinating.
Sadly, our local tip
has now closed,
and Peterborough birding
isn't quite the same without it.
The birding's still good,
but a huge part of winter birding
has disappeared.
Through the mid-2000s
I became a serious twitcher,
travelling around Britain and Ireland
trying not to miss anything.
I was tearing around the country like a lunatic.