Day 5 - Eastern promise

We were up and at 'em by almost 7am this morning.  Our plan was to bird the magic burn and pink house scrub.  The weather was perfect - virtually still, slightly overcast and full of eastern promise!  We managed to get there earlyish, but so had three other crews apparently!  At one point there were eight birders wandering along 'our' burn, all seeing the same three bedraggled Meadow Pipits.

Mark and I did manage to extract a Lesser Whitethroat from some nettles, and the Yellow-browed Warbler was still in the pink house garden, along with a 'new in' Blackcap.  Blackcaps seemed to feature large in today's proceedings so we're guessing most arrived on those fabled easterlies we had overnight (by the way, were there actually any easterlies overnight?  The weather forecast seemed to suggest Shetland was in the middle of a low with the wind just blowing around in a circle)

With so much coverage and obviously so many more birds to find our patch didn't seem worthy enough.  We also wanted to see the Spotty Sand up at Voe so we pushed north full of optimism.



Voe was looking stunning in the still morning air.  We optimistically scanned the shoreline expecting to see the Yanky Sandpiper strutting along the edge.  We kept scanning.  And scanning.  There was no bloomin' Sandpiper.  Again.  There was however a cracking Otter feeding along the tide edge right under where we parked the car (NOT a Seal, as Si originally suggested).

Otter playing hide and seek

And, for Si's benefit, this is a Seal

We decided to split up to try and re-find the secretive Sandpiper.  Si and Mark wandered along the shoreline towards the old chapel, while I headed towards the harbour.  I don't actually think Si and Mark saw anything.  I, on the other hand, saw two more Blackcaps.  Must be new in.  Twenty minutes later and we were back on the road again.

What I haven't told you, dear reader, is that we were heading for the secret birding mecca called Bressay.  Obviously grossly underwatched and hoochin' with rarities on the first sniff of an east wind.  Today was obviously the day to look.  Not before we checked out the scrub at the Loch of Voe though.  Yesterday it was slow, but today was obviously going to be far better with that east wind, wasn't it.  We shuffled along the path, grilling everything.  Goldcrest, Robin, Blackbird, and Willowchiff.  Exactly the same scrott as yesterday.  Must just be too far inland on an easterly to catch stuff, mustn't it.

Loch Voe looking cool

Si , pointing out the rares to Mark, or rather waving wildly in despair at yet another wasted 5 minutes of his life

On to the Bressay ferry, via a slight detour round Lerwick to find the right one.  The seven minute crossing seemed to fly by, as if it took five.  But we were now on the island of dreams.  We headed to the top of the first road to work our way back.  As we were driving a nasty niff hit our noses.  We played with the air conditioning and it appeared we had averted the offending smell.  We drove further along the road to a good looking piece of scrub.  Parked up and opened the doors - HOLY COW!  The stench was horrific.  It was coming from the waste processing plant at Heogan.  Needless to say we got back in the car quickly and made our way south to get out of the putrid stink.

Pioneering birding - Si and Steve standing in shite

Our first proper stop was the legendary Gardie House.  Loads of scrub and shelter for the newly arrived birds.  We all edged around the willows and pished to extract the gold.  The first bit of gold we saw had a crest.  Yes, thats right a Goldcrest.  Two more grey warblers then popped up in the willows - more Blackcaps.  That was more or less it until we bumped in the two birders who were staying on the island.  It was then when two redpolls zoomed in from the south, landed in the dense willows, before heading off north again without giving us any id clues.  The two 'locals' gave us some good gen on where to go on the island so we pushed on.

We couldn't resist a quick pish in a good-looking garden (from the car of course), and instantly a Chiffchaff popped up.  The best thing I can say about this Chiffchaff is that it has a good sense of humour, as the place we found it was called 'Crouton'.  Ok, it probably isn't that amusing.

Gunnista was next on the hit list.  Unfortunately the "light" rain had started to come down.  I forged on and wandered around the farmsted, while Si and Mark birded from the car.  I was rewarded with around 20 Meadow Pipits and some Blackbirds, while Si looked through the Cormorants for a Diver.

By the time I got back to the car I was soaked, and quite miserable.  These amazing easterlies hadn't really materialised.

We decided to do some dirty twitching.  Barred Warbler was next on the menu.  We headed towards Gorie.  This was fine until we hit the 'road' down to the plantation.  This wasn't a road, this was barely a track.

Si said and I quote "shhhheeeett", "Fuuuuuuccccckkkk" "Ohhhhhh" quite a few times

Si had a lot of fun slipping, sliding, and grinding along where the two tyre tracks went.  I think he was quite glad when we finally found the plantation.

The rain was still dribbling down and optimism was getting higher.  The first birds we saw were, predictably, two Blackcaps.  Close, but no barred cigar.  A quick flick later and a hulking grey warbler climbed to the top of a fence post - Barred Warbler stomps on to the day-list!  Over the next hour we got stonking views of this giant as it clambered around the plantation and sat on top of the dry-stone walls and fence posts surrounding the plantation.  It was possibly the most showy Barred Warbler any of us had ever seen.

There's a Barred in them there hills (pines/walls)

That was, until Mark went back to the car to grab his camera.  This action instantly had the effect of reverting this amazingly showy Barred Warbler in to the typically skulking, shy, reclusive Barred Warbler we know and love.

Mark, Scaring birds away since 1992 .....

Barred Warbler 'in habitat' or simply too far away

And the rain was getting heavier.  We decided to bugger off and give Si another heart-attack drive along the 'track'.

Si, Actually crapping himself....

Once back on tarmac we thought we should at least give the legendary East Ham a go.  It's had so many good birds over the years, and obviously the easterlies will have dropped load more in.  We found a good parking place and stomped around the gardens and plantation.  Meadow Pipits were abundant.  As we reached the plantation a small warbler zipped over from one edge to another.  We all got excited.  It looked rare.  It flipped again and looked even rarer.  We edged closer towards the pines it landed in.  It popped up again and buried itself.  We got enough on it this time.  It wasn't exactly rare, it was a Yellow-browed Warbler.  It was a surprise 'find' for us, but we later found out that it was originally seen on Sunday.  At least it bolstered our flagging rare bird finding libidos.

We finally find something ... a bloody Yellow Browed, but we are off the blocks.

Slightly spurred on, we checked a few more gardens, saw nothing, and decided to head back to the main land.  The Spotty Sand was beckoning again. 3 Black Guillemots showed well in the Harbour as we waited for the ferry.

There wasn't any bloody gold there , maybe tomorrow

We sped north once more, brimming with optimism.  It was now low tide this time and our fifth attempt at seeing this nearctic wader.  We arrived at the bay, and it was lashing down with rain, and blowing a gale.  Predictably there was no sign of the Spotted Sandpiper.  We'd now had enough and were cold, wet, and very hungry.  Si drove south for the nirvana of home.

Unfortunately Si got a text from Dave Bradnum, who had just found a Red Breasted Flycatcher just off our route home.  We had to go and have a look.  It was now really windy and getting dark.  We found the right spot and a horde of birders looking intently on the fairly calm back garden.  A flick and a white speck whizzed through the garden "there it goes!" shouts someone.  "and back again' someone else shouts.  This poor little bird was getting blown all over the shop.  Eventually we get split-second views of the 'fly perched, then zipping back in to the dense bushes again.  It really was time to go home this time.

Back at our digs, now toasty warm, showered, and waiting for another Wilson supreme dinner.  I'm sure a dinner update will be forthcoming later...........