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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jonno52" data-source="post: 3369637" data-attributes="member: 72350">On 25 Feb 1990 I drove from S London to Brogborough Lake for Iceland Gull. Duly saw the bird, though it was raining continuously. I'd left the car in the only remaining place in a parking area, which had been very muddy. As dusk approached, I returned to the car, but the mud was worse and on trying to move away, the wheels spun uselessly. Every trick I tried failed. Luckily there were some non-birders parked where the ground was more solid. They had a tow rope and pulled me out. I'm immensely grateful to them, as mobiles weren't around and a cold night in the car wouldn't have been much fun.At Arundel once (for a Pec, I think) I felt what seemed a heavy hand being clapped on my shoulder from behind. But no cop's voice said "You're nicked, son". Instead, a large dollop of green Canada Goose poop had fallen from a considerable height onto my shoulder. No harm done!This next doesn't really count as it didn't bother me at all, but on 29 May 1989 I went to Little Paxton GP for a Red-footed Falcon. It was a warm, windless, idyllic sunlit evening. Firstly one Hobby appeared, then another, hawking for dragonflies. And possibly a third, can't remember. Then a beautiful male Redfoot joined them. It was an enchanting experience. Watched the birds until it was nearly dark and set off back to the car. But where was it? I was pretty confident and started walking. After about a mile (or so it seemed) it was clear I'd gone in completely in the opposite direction. Walked back in nearly complete darkness. But I was still under the spell of those falcons and didn't care. (If someone's about to say the Redfoot was later found to be an escape, please don't!). This last is different and something I really wish hadn't happened at all. At Barn Elms Res, as it was then, I was approached by a Thames Water guy who wanted to know what to do about a bird he'd seen on the banks of one basin. "Can you tell me what sort of bird this is?" seemed innocent enough, and an opportunity to show off my (limited) expertise. But an awful sight. The bird had clearly got into some kind of industrial waste pool of corrosive liquid but somehow managed to get to the reservoir and was slithering about helplessly. Told the guy it was a duck, but no plumage colours could be seen: the poor thing was black and raw red. I had to say nothing could be done to help it. I've never had to do it, but if necessary would put a bird out of its misery with a heavy blow to the back of the neck: this one was simply inaccessible. There's no need for sentimentality when a Magpie is eating (messily) a naked blind nestling, but this was different.Sorry for a sobering end to all this. It's not something that happened to me, exactly, but it's the worst experience I've had when birding.</blockquote>

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