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Sanday 2024, the one that was earlier than ever... (1 Viewer)

Mark Lew1s

My real name is Mark Lewis
September 6th

It’s almost as if we couldn’t wait. After 14 years of visiting Sanday around mid to late September, we were champing at the bit to get away this year and as such, ended up settling on dates earlier than we’d ever visited before - 6th to the 13th September. This is how I ended up sitting in Aberdeen airport on the 6th, waiting for a fog-bound flight and chatting with a birder en route to North Ronaldsay for a similarly unprecedented early visit.

I was soon on my way and after a breakfast roll with more fillings than one might consider reasonable in Kirkwall airport, I was outside waiting for my friend to pick me up. It was a warm, clear sunny day, but the steady stream of meadow pipits overhead made it feel lovely and autumnal. Once picked up we headed out to the east side of the mainland and were soon birding.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up. While scanning the gulls and waders at the Ouse, a yellow wagtail flew over - a pretty scarce bird up here. Then, after a bird-free stroll around Sandside Bay, we picked up a juvenile tree sparrow at Denwick, which is more of a spring thing in Orkney and is not recorded every autumn. Also here were two whinchat, more evidence of migrants - recently arrived or not, along with a beachful of pied wagtails and some sparkling juvenile sanderling.

On then to meet the ferry after a hasty chipper tea, to chug over towards Sanday. It was lovely, but the birds were not too inspiring, although plenty of fulmar and shag kept us company and loads of black guillemot were on show which is never a bad thing.

We arrived with an hour to spare before dusk and headed to Stove, a large sheltered garden in the far south-west of the island. Here, redstart and robin were migrants, a juvenile water rail was likely to be locally bred, and hen harrier and short-eared owl added the usual background quality. To complete the usual Sanday ambiance, groups of greylags honked overhead, while behind us, we could hear the calls of redshank, dunlin and sanderling as they fed on the large bay. Groups of swallows gathered on the wires and linnets fed in the fields. It was great to be back

We thought we had done OK, but the other team, who made their way up via the Pentland ferry did really well with a spotted redshank at Loch Fleet and then to top that off, a Cory’s shearwater off Noss Head. They also made it over to Sanday in time to re-find the returning long-billed dowitcher at Cleat, and get out over to Start point, where they flushed a corncrake. Some start. Cory’s is a Scottish rarity, so we had fingers crossed that as a team we hadn’t peaked too early….
 
September 7th

The wind had been out of the ESE and overnight there had been a bit of drizzle. It was also very foggy - the scourge of the low-lying Northern Isles, but we fancied our chances. As we knew the forecast was going to become a lot less helpful through the week, three of us piled out to the east end of the island for the day. I opted to start by wandering around the Buryan area - a network of fields and weedy margins that until recently had been out of bounds due to an owner with a stick he liked to shake…

It turned out to be a fortuitous choice. No more than five minutes out of the car, I flushed a pretty large, pale olive-grey warbler out of the track-side vegetation. Luckily it did the decent thing and sat on a fence line for long enough for me to get a quick look and to rattle off some some record shots. Through the bins I’d seen a hefty, long bill, a yellowish wash to the face and throat, and crucially, really short PP. It was a melodious warbler, a really rare bird in Scotland. Unfortunately it vanished through the undergrowth before anyone else could arrive and could not be re-found in an hour or so of looking.

That was a very good start but no-one had noted any other migrants so as we were at the prime sea-watching spot already I settled in for an hour or so, enjoying close-ish views of 15 sooty shearwater, 10 manxies and two great-northern divers, before heading off to walk one of my favourite routes for birding anywhere, the North Loch loop. On the way, black-tailed godwits fed in a stubble field and on the water, among the 57 mute swans, lingered a couple of great skua, and two pintail among the waders and wildfowl. The gardens along the road were now soaking up the sun, and a few migrants appeared along the edges. At the gallery, two willow warbler and a garden warbler popped out, while a red-throated diver flew overhead calling as it went - a sound I had heard far too infrequently since spending many summers studying this species in Shetland, Orkney and the Outer Hebrides. Down the road at Salties, a redstart showed briefly with a female blackcap, and at the bowling green garden, a whinchat and a pied flycatcher both showed. Classic early autumn birding. Those scarce birds we used to call ‘common migrants’ on a warm, sunny day, with the calls of golden plover and flocks of linnets filling the sky.

After a sandwich and a short kip in the sun on top of one of the bunkers, I headed back down for a seawatch. At Buryan, the melodious warbler appeared out of the irises and this time, hung around for long enough for two other to get there to see it. Happy, happy days - I don’t like it when I’m the only one to see something good.

Offshore, things were much quieter than before, with only four manxies and two sooties noted. Much better were the two European storm-petrels that flittered past - my first actually from the island, and a fitting end to a really enjoyable first full day on the island.

As wells the above, the one guy that didn’t go east found an icterine warbler at Tresness. Another excellent day.
 
September 8th

Another day of fine weather, which meant another full day at the east end. This was a simple choice made even easier as one of the team (and one of the two drivers) had come down with some food poisoning so were were limited to going where the other diver wanted to go. Still, there are worse places to end up than the east end of Sanday on a fine and sunny early September day.

I walked the Lopness loop, covering the southern section of the blob of Sanday’s east end. It took me past the melodious warbler which was still present, and along the weedy shoreline but the rest of Lopness was very quiet, with little more than two red-throated diver and a little flock of black-tailed godwits to report.

From there I followed the road towards North Loch and set about my favourite route. In the garden at Salties a pied flycatcher showed really nicely. A ringtail hen harrier jinked over the garden, and a couple of twite called nearby. On Loch of Rhummie, a little further along the way, were some Sanday-level goodies such as 11 coot and two little grebes, and further still, at the gallery, another pied flycatcher showed. Another hen harrier danced past, this time a smart male, flushing two ruff from a field, and as I wandered along the track along the side of Rhummie I noticed two gadwall lurking - something which can often be hard to find here.

Things took a little turn fro the frustrating as I wandered back down the road heading towards Buryan for a seawatch. From out of the Salties garden called what I initially took to be a phyllosc. I hadn’t realised that I’d flushed a bird so stared into a sycamore only to hear the call again, five more times, as it circled around and then cleared off. I didn’t see it, but it was very likely a common rosefinch. The call sounded just right but the local linnets have been making a bewildering variety of noises so I couldn’t really rule that out. Ho hum.

The seawatch proved to be pretty quiet, with just two sooty shearwaters adding glamour, but proper Sanday quality showed up in the guise of three common terns. I’m pretty sure these are among the first autumn birds we’ve had.

I then spent some time wandering through the odd field towards North Loch and back towards Buryan, where we ended the session at the east end with a little gull that drifted right over our heads - another uncommon bird in these parts. Then it was time to head home via one last check of Cleat, where there were three greenshank and a juvenile curlew sandpiper. Another very lovely day. Nothing remarkable, bird-wise, but Sanday on a still warm day is a treat….
 
September 9th

The last of the ‘calm’ mornings for the foreseeable. I wanted to try and get recordings of waders so I opted to head to Cleat for a couple of reasons. Primarily, it was where the long-billed dowitcher had been kicking around, but also, I knew that there was a big wall I could shelter from the breeze behind, making life much easier when holding a parabola. First, there was a little stop at the Bea Loch, which was very quiet but did have a adult little grebe feeding a young one - meaning that we could prove that they had bred on the island.

Shortly after I was getting dropped off in Lady and having a look at the gardens before heading through to Cleat. The Lady gardens can be hard work but find a sunny side out of the wind and wait, and eventually you’ll see at least some of the stuff that’s in there. This time the tactic worked for a female blackcap, a willow warbler, and best of all, a sedge warbler. This is something we don’t get on every trip, most probably because we are too late in the year, and there was every chance that this was a local breeder rather than a migrant from further away. All the same, my heart jumped when I first saw it’s acro-shape slink onto the outside of the bush…

Along to Cleat then (via a garden warbler in one of the, well, gardens). The sun was shining and although it was much blowier than I had anticipated, down behind my little wall it was ever so pleasant. The waders soon got used to me. At least two greenshanks, skittish at first, fed happily in front of me, and the sanderling, redshank, dunlin and turnstone all came close. The star of the show of course was the long-billed dowitcher. Once I was sat down it marched towards me like it was going to ask me for a fight, and proceeded to feed just 15 or so metres away. It was great to spend time in such close proximity to a great bird, but it knew what it was doing. As I had the recorder, I didn’t have the camera, which explains why it fed at a range I’d have had to zoom out for, but never made a sound… It didn’t even call when the sparrowhawk drifted through, scattering everything and driving the greenshanks batty. Also on the edge of the lagoon here a white wagtail fed, and just as I managed to get up and tear myself away from this lovely spot, a short-eared owl went through. Lovely.

In the afternoon I went for a seawatch. I was convinced that it would probably be our best bet for another goodie given the weather and the forecast, but it wasn’t to be today. Bird of the day went to a large, strikingly white Risso’s dolphin that lingered offshore, offering much more excitement than the actual birds. The best of it was two sooties and three Manx, and a fine drake goldeneye that whistled past. Actually, the best of it was stopping the seawatch and gathering with others at the parking spot in Scuthvie Bay, having a natter in the evening sun and watching the resident little gull foraging offshore, a group of ten pintail heading north, and what must have been a family party of great norther divers including one of the adults in almost spanking breeding plumage and close enough to see the redness in the eye. Terrific stuff.
 
September 10th

We woke up to a flat calm morning - not the washout predicted - that was now due to arrive at around 10 am. So, to make the most of a morning when you can hear stuff, a rare commodity on Sanday, we headed out as promptly as possible. I went up the Burness road and then round to Roos. Here, there is an impenetrable forest that must hold birds, but is a bugger to find stuff in. If you're to have any chance at all, it would be on a calm day.

En route I was treated to standard Sanday stuff. Flocks of linnets, greylags over, starlings making waders noises and the like. The walk was brightened up by a ruff, and a couple of small skeins of pink-footed geese passing over - my first of the autumn. Then at the house that always used to be known as the writers retreat, our only goldfinch of the week tinkled out of a sycamore. The lack of finches was a real feature of this early week compared to our later trips, although goldfinch is never guaranteed. A hen harrier passed through, and a song thrush, my first of the week, tsipped from a garden.

When I got to Roos, or should I say the Roos re-wilding project, I was disappointed to see an enormous bull and other cattle wandering around in the most workable part of the cover. That was the end of that plan, but the house owner was very accommodating and let me wander around in the garden, which is also pretty big and dense. It was about at this point that the weather started getting nasty, but before I was picked up and whisked away to bird from a nice dry car, I managed to dig out a dunnock - again, the only one of the trip. I waited for my lift in the little gatehouse, scanning over the loch where there were just short of 400 wigeon and a family of mute swan.

The car took me to the Little Sea, which was packed with the usual waders and gulls, but also hosted an intermedius lesser black-back, which for the third time that morning was the only one of the trip. Finding three trip ticks 5 days in sounds pretty heroic until you remember they were dunnock, goldfinch and lesser black-backed gull...

No such luck for me in the afternoon. I threw my eggs into the seawatching basket but failed to deliver an omelette, if that's not a mixing of metaphors. 14 sooty shearwater and a couple of Manx was nice enough, as was the juvenile Arctic tern that flew over our heads, but it was a long wet sit for all of that really. A quick look at the Little Sea and Bea Loch on the way home produced good counts of knot (a massive 26) and 17 Sandwich terns roosting in a field, which is a decent count but if it tells you anything, it's how horrible the weather was....
 
September 11th

Bad weather. Grim. Brutal. Deeply inclement. I could go on. I probably should go on, as for the first time ever (I think) a day on Sanday barely scraped to the end of a complete page in my notebook, so there aren't many birds to talk about. It was the sort of weather where you can only bird from one side of the car, because winding the window down on the other side simply isn't an option.

Luckily, the side of the car that we could bird from on the way out to the east end revealed a large flock of golden plover on the west side of North Loch, and that flock hosted a rather spanking adult American golden plover. It would turn out to be the one that had been hanging around on North Ronaldsay for a week or two prior to our arrival, but that didn't take the gloss off a very nice find for the guy on the other side of the car! I think we are something like 13 AGP in 14 autumn visits now, which is a record that even America might struggle to compete with.

After soaking that bird in (literally), and scanning through the rest of what must have been the glummest collection of birds I've ever seen (via another AGP semilookalike with the brightest armpits you ever saw) we headed for a seawatch under the shelter of the wall at Buryan. It was not very good - three manx shearwater were all we had to show for it.

It cleared a bit and I walked up the North Loch loop, doing some fieldcraft at the gallery that saw a willow warbler coming out onto the sheltered edge of the garden about 2 metres from me (fieldcraft = laying down in the grass and not falling asleep) but then the weather started again so we went back for an early lunch. AGP aside, perhaps the best birding of the morning was right on the doorstep pf the house, with greenshank and merlin both at the lagoon at Quivals.

In the afternoon I walked from Lady to Cleat, and then back to the house. At Lady a grey plover in a field did its best to look rare, a willow warbler called in the doctors garden, and a hen harrier drifted through. Cleat held the usual waders including two greenshank, and then the walk back past the lagoon at Quivals produced another greenshank, a ruff, and both sparrowhawk and merlin.

It was all a bit low effort and low intensity because of the weather, but the guy who was leaving that day got the good find his efforts through the week merited. We have a pretty good track record on our last days - other last day goodies include Blyth's reed and marsh warblers, greenish warbler, little bunting, buff-breasted sandpiper, siberian stonechat, some of the aforementioned AGP, American wigeon, bluethroat, and a hatful of barred warblers and other scarcities. My own last day was two days off. Would the pattern continue?
 
September 12

The bad weather relented. Well, at least the rain did, at first, and then the wind did a little too. With a striking lack of imagination we piled into a car and headed east, with the intention to seawatch, but stopped to have a look at Cleat on the way over, where we were briefly distracted by the first buzzard of the trip.

I don’t remember the seawatch, which isn’t all that surprising as my notebook simply states ‘nothing at all’, but I guess we must have cut it short as my next memory of the day is of us pulling up at Loch of Rhummie to scan the fields behind, where there were a handful of golden plover. Luckily, the American golden plover was among them. We’ve noticed over the years that the smaller the flock of golden plover, the closer you can get, so we edged along the Rhummie track to get closer views.

All 8 birds looked pretty unperturbed, which is how we found ourselves crawling along at ground level, hiding behind the long grass and poking lenses through the large square fence mesh gaps when we got up to where the bird were feeding. It takes a lot of long grass to hide me, by which I guess I mean the birds definitely knew we were there, but by sitting and waiting they came in pretty close, giving me my best ever views of AGP and allowing some nice photos too. In the end we spent a very lovely hour or so with this bird, and it was especially cool when I remembered to put the camera down and actually look at the bird a bit. Doing this spared me the task that my friend gave himself - sorting through 3400 AGP pics….

By the afternoon it was somewhere between very birdable and downright pleasant. So, I opted to wander from Quivals, down to Over-the-water, past the Little Sea and then back up to look at Cata Sand on a high tide. I didn’t quite manage that last bit but it was very nice all the same. All of the rain had really opened up the wetlands at Over-the-water, where there were plenty of wigeon and teal, and a party of 11 herons. Ideally I’d have cut through there to the Little Sea but a knackered fence and some keen cattle made me change my mind, so I doubled back and headed over via the track at the east end of the airfield. About 600 golden plover took a wee scan but without anything decent among them. At the Little Sea I spent a great hour or so scoping waders and gulls on the rising tide. 140 Dunlin, 39 Knot and about 60 sanderling and ringed plover fed on the shore just 30 metres or so from where I stood. Hen harriers and a peregrine bothered the scene, a juvenile Arctic tern lingered more distantly, and a lady stopped her car to get out to tell me that her cat had eaten a wryneck. Autumn birding at its best.

It was hard to tear myself away, but more close-up wader action beckoned at Cata Sand. Unfortunately the high tide was a low one, and still had a bit of rising to do so the waders remained distant. However, 290 more dunlin, 39 grey plover and yet another hen harrier were not to be sniffed at. Nothing remarkable but after a few days of really crappy weather it felt quite freeing to be walking around actually birding, hearing birds, and not limited to swinging the bins from within the car.

One day to go.
 
September 13th

The last day. It was a blessing; calm, bright and warm. For a change, we headed to the east end for a seawatch and almost immediately saw an upturn in fortunes. The flat calm seas (albeit with a little swell) and the lack of wind meant that stuff was passing much, much closer to the shore than it had been. Over the course of a couple of hours we had 38 sooty shearwater go through, along with 4 Manx and an Arctic skua - the first of the trip, which was astonishing given the amount of time we’d spent looking at the sea.

From there, just to shake things up a bit, I walked up the North Loch loop. In the sun it was a delight, made even more enjoyable by the honk of the first whooper swans of the autumn on North Loch, with three birds fresh in, mingling with the big mute swan flock. Salties had a willow warbler, which then flew past me as I left and headed up towards the gallery. The usual coot and little grebes were on Rhummie, and foraging along the sunny edge of the gallery garden were my friend the willow warbler, his friend the other willow warbler, and a garden warbler that had been seen there on the first day but perhaps not since. Testament to how good the gallery is at holding birds and how good it is at hiding them too.

All good, but not the last day prize I was hoping for.

After lunch, we threw our last throw of the dice at Buryan, looking over the sea. Again it was good. Stuff was passing close and there were sooties passing. Promising. The promise delivered after about 20 minutes, in the form of a cracking, closer than mid-range Cory’s shearwater. Birdguides might make this feel a little piffling, what with the thousands that get seen off Cornwall and Ireland, but up here in Scotland it’s a ‘Scottish rare’ with fewer than ten records per year (for the time being - it's increasing and will be a county rare soon, I'm sure). In addition, it was a full on Sanday tick and drew a nice line under the list of shearwaters that we could reasonably expect to see. And of course, it’s a big old shearwater meandering past, yellow bill glinting in the sun, so what was not to like?

More sooties, 25 Manx, and singles of great and Arctic skua drew the session to a close, and then it was time to go for the boat.

Done, and ending with the high that I had hoped for. All that remained was a short and comfortable ferry ride, a pretty nice curry in the Dil Se in Kirkwall, and then a longer and less comfortable ferry ride t Aberdeen. Game over until next year, and I’m excited already.
 
So, in summary, between us we managed long-billed dowitcher, melodious and icterine warbler, american golden plover, cory's shearwater, corncrake, quail, a couple of curlew sandpiper, lapland and snow bunting, pied fly, redstart, the first arriving pinks and whooper swans, sooties, stormies and more. On top of Hen harriers, SEOs, merlins, ravens and hoodies. Not a vintge Sanday week by any stretch (by the middle of the week, in the period of bad weather, I'd say we were all going through the motions a little), but some great birds, and the usual good company and fantastic scenery.

I say this every trip report. It's a decent list, but it might bely the fact that on most days, most of us walked around and saw nothing remarkable. However, I still maintain that Orkney must be one of the safest bets for finding rare birds in the UK. Stuff from the east and west, and oodles of barely covered land.
 

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