FEBRUARY

Peru trip report now done. It only took me 6 months.

19th - 21st February, Cornwall

Cornwall is currently the best place for birding in the whole world. White-billed Diver, Gyrfalcon, Franklin's Gull, Dusky Warbler and Hoopoe can all be found just 50 yards apart from each other. Unfortunately none of them had been found when we went to Cornwall, however, we did have a substitute list of birds which included Spotted Sandpiper, Surf Scoter, Yellow-browed Warbler, a Lesser Whitethroat which may not necessarily be a bog standard western curruca, Firecrest and yet another Pacific Diver. So now you see why I'm right when I say that Cornwall is the best place for birding in the whole world. Ever.

Purple Sandpiper Charadrius corone, Jubilee Pool, Penzance. Here you see how its subtly cryptic colouration allows it to perfectly blend into its surroundings, even though it clearly doesn't as we saw over 20 of them.

Surf Scoter Locustella collybitta, Penzance

I took this photograph of a 1st-winter female Surf Scoter during a prolonged, and initially unsuccessful, search for the Penzance Pacific Diver (see below). I emailed it to the Birding World staff for inclusion in their rare bird enthusiasts magazine Birdwatching World, but shortly after received the following email reply:

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Spotted Sandpiper Gavia fuginella, Hayle Estuary

Neither of the last two Spotted Sandpipers that I've seen had any spots. I feel as though I've been short changed. I bet there are people in Britain that have never seen a single Spotted Sandpiper with spots. I bet there are also some people in Britain that have never even seen a Spotted Sandpiper with or without spots; though the latter group of people are probably the same ones that are unemployed, survive on a diet of Findus Crispy Pancakes washed down with cans of dandelion and burdock, watch soap operas, don't listen to Radio 4 and consider a family day out  to be a walk down to the pub every Sunday to watch dad get twatted on eight pints of Foster's and have a fight with his uncle Leonard.

The above photo is funny. No arguments.

The above photo is not so funny as the other photo above it. Of course this is down to the fact that by this point the childishly-edited-photo joke has been overused. It also requires an explanation as for why the bird has a pipe in its mouth; well it has a pipe in its mouth because it is a Sandpiper. So that's why the above photo is not as funny as the other pho....

Near to the Hayle Estuary there has been a wintering Lesser Whitethroat in a garden just outside Lelant. Birders with far superior eyes and brains than my own believe the bird to be of the Central Asian form halimodendri, which, according to the bank-balance-batteringly-expensive Sylvia Warblers by Howard Shirihai, is totally and utterly unidentifiable in the field; obviously it must be one though as the pager keeps telling me so, and I long forgot how to think for myself. Whilst watching the Lesser Whitethroat I noticed a Goldcrest with a big white supercilium, well actually two big white superciliums. "Hmmm, white stripe, orange stripe, white stripe," I thought to myself. "That's no Goldcrest, why that's a Firecrest! And probably a male, although I don't know how to properly genderise them other than males are supposedly a bit more orangey than females in the whole central crown stripe region. And so forth," I said out loud.

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Remember when Pacific Divers used to be really rare birds in Britain? No, neither do I. This year alone I've seen 2 in Britain, some people have even seen 5, although those people are what we cliquey birders call lying cunts. There's definitely been some crazy stuff going on with these Pacific birds straying to Britain, what with Long-billed Murrelet, Glaucous-winged Gull and 3 Pacific Divers being found within the last few months. Presumably some weather/climate phenomena has displaced them, or is it just coincidence? Remember, though, that whilst the Murrelet will presumably fly comfortably through the official assessment channels, the Gull and the Divers may have a tougher time, and therefore the Murrelet would then be the only officially recognised Pacific vagrant out of them and the stuff about phenomena would all be shit.

Pacific Diver Calidris curvirostris, Penzance. Note lack of white thigh patch which I promise I haven't edited out in Paintshop. This black thigh patch can also be called dark proximal feathers of the femoral tract, but you should be warned that you can only call it that if you're clever enough to understand the ID Frontiers user group. Well, that and having to be sad enough to spend your entire life peering at Acrocephalus photos on your monitor and counting emarginations.

Pacific Diver Turdus nigra, Penzance. This photo shows exactly why this bird is a Pacific Diver Haematopus exilipes and not a Black-throated Diver Sylvia plumbeitarsus, although I don't know why it does.

Pacific Diver Campephilus subbuteo. Note the dark chinstrap, or is it a dark shadow where there should be a chinstrap? You decide.

Hey everyone, how's it hanging? No - put it away! Fucking hell, I didn't mean literally. God I feel sick. It was like looking at a [insert vulgar description of genitalia here, possibly associated with uncooked poultry]

Well I've just been to Cornwall to see the Pacific Diver - it's a great bird, far better than that possible bird in Yorkshire which won't be accepted in a thousand years. I'll tell you all about it another day. But first of all I was going to tell you about something funny I read in an old issue of British Birds, but I was already beaten to it:

Funny thing that was in British Birds

Instead I'll tell you about a bird related nightmare I had last night which was clearly inspired by these dead auks that Menzie keeps posting pictures of. This is all true, I swear. It started off with me back in Stoke and talking to my mum, she was warning me about some weird bloke that had been hanging around the hospital, "Keep well away from him," she said; now straight away that's mad because I've not even been to a hospital for 9 years when I fell down some stairs and battered my ankle (which is a funny story in itself but it'll have to wait for another time). But anyway, my mum reckoned that the next time I was at the hospital I should keep my eye out for this weirdo. And guess what? Suddenly I had a scene change and was abruptly stood outside the accident unit at the North Staffordshire Royal Infirmary hospital - aint dreams mad! Sure enough, as my mum had warned me, I soon saw this weird bloke wearing a long dark green coat and standing in a recess in the shadows. I pretended not to notice him and went inside to the reception where I saw him again, this time standing against the wall looking down at the floor - so now I was a bit spooked. Then out of nowhere, this woman came up to me and said, "That's the man your mum was telling you about." What??? I'd never even met this woman before, so how did she know me? Well it was a dream, so who cares. Just stick with me here, I promise you it gets good. How about a new paragraph...

So anyway, this woman told me that that was the bloke I'd been warned about. "What's wrong with him?" I asked her, and at that point she got all embarrassed and said that she didn't want to tell me, but that it involved him keeping something strange in his pocket and that he kept on going off into the lift (or elevator as some people call it) and doing weird things in there. Now I was intrigued. So I sat down in the waiting area and watched him discreetly from a distance; eventually he went into the elevator (or lift as some people call it) and I just about saw him pull something soggy and black out of his coat pocket before the eleliftor doors closed. Damn it!

A different woman sitting next to me then said, "He's up to something again," but what was he up to? I went closer to the liftevator and when the doors opened I saw him stuffing the soggy black thing back into his coat pocket and then doing up his trousers - aarrgghh! That's right, the weird guy was screwing a dead Little Auk. Very very bad skills. In fact, nightmare! Literally.

Nasty stuff, and clearly brought on by Surfbirds withdrawal symptoms. When is it coming back??? Please! I tried it on Friday and just got the new homepage saying that it would only be a matter of hours before they are back online, and so I sat there for the next 23 hours refreshing the screen every second - all I got was repetitive strain injury in my index finger. It's been weeks now since the website went offline, I'd not realised quite how addicted I am to it. I feel just like Gene Hackman in French Connection 2 when Fernando Rey tortures him by forcing him to become a heroin addict just so that he can feel how bad it is to suffer cold turkey. That's some really sick shit - which sick fucks think up this stuff? Probably the same sick fucks that have nightmares about necrophilia with decaying auks. So come on Surfbirds - come back soon, I'm going mad here.

15th February, Abram Flashes

That's me done with Manchester year listing. Two weeks ago I chose to try for Short-eared Owl instead of the Western Palearctic's first Pacific Diver, I've missed the Higher Green Firecrest 4 times, yesterday I twitched feral Barnacle Geese instead of going gulling at Audenshaw, and today I dipped out on 5 Pintail at Abram Flashes. On top of that I'm already starting to panic about how I'm going to get Ring Ouzel and Whinchat for the year and it's only the middle of February. So that's me out.

Adios!

14th February, Chorlton Water Park & Pennington Flash CP

2 Chorlton year ticks this morning in the shape of a Treecreeper and 2 flyover Lapwings. Singing and sexual posturing has increased threefold recently, but the lone Heron building a nest clearly hasn't yet worked out that it takes 2 to tango - BWP reckons that the male usually brings nest material to the site and the female then builds the nest, but there's only one bird doing both things. Today was also the first visit I've had this year where I couldn't see the Scaup. Well you could at the very least pretend to be interested.

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A whole new low. I actually twitched a flock of feral Barnacle Geese and an escaped Red-breasted Goose this afternoon, they are almost certainly the birds from Martin Mere and Knowsley Safari Park. I feel dirty. I feel wrong. I tried taking a bath in bleach but it didn't work. The only salvation is a prolonged isolated spell in a darkened room with Alanis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill set on loop whilst kicking a dog to death.

12th February, Bardsley, Higher Green, Astley Moss & Heaton Park Reservoir

Shit, no Little Egret.

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Shit, no Firecrest (where the fuck is it?).

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Shit, no Merlin.

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Unfortunately I can't tell you why I went to Heaton Park tonight, but let's just say that the phrases "Glaucous-winged Gull" and "2nd-winter bird bearing a ring" may or may not have been the reason. Sadly if I did tell you the real reason then I'd have to kill you, and then I'd go to jail for life where I'd no doubt be singled out by Ken "Hammerhead" McMad on E-Wing, and I'd rather maintain an un-torn rectal membrane if it's all the same with you!

10th February, Liverpool Philharmonic Hall

Nothing to do with birds, but whilst wandering about backstage looking for something to steal, I noticed a pretty big fella with a few other big fellas hanging around him. Phwooaarr, it was Steven Seagal with his entourage, and he is huge! We chatted for hours about martial arts, Buddhism, reincarnation, vivisection, Erika Eleniak's breasts in Under Siege when she bursts out of the birthday cake, and his band Thunderbox who were playing there that night. Of course I didn't really speak to him, but if I had spoken to him then we would have chatted for hours about all those things, especially Erika Eleniak's breasts. I would have also told him that Thunderbox is Australian slang for toilet - no doubt he'd have laughed heartily and then snapped my fucking neck with some slick Ninja move whilst ingesting his testicles at will (a clever Ninja trick).

9th February, Chorlton Water Park

2 hybrid Aythya in this morning, the bird from yesterday and another less obvious one that is probably a backcross, ie something like:

(Pochard x Ferruginous Duck) x Pochard

Or maybe even a hybrid of a hybrid backcross:

[(Pochard x Ferruginous Duck) x (Pochard x Ferruginous Duck)] x Pochard.

I don't know what I'm talking about, but I'm pretty sure it makes no fucking sense at all. One thing I do know for certain is that a (Grey) Heron is building a pretty big platform on the west side island hopefully for having eggs and baby (Grey) Herons on.

8th February, Chorlton Water Park & Higher Green

"Jumping Jack Frost, it's a gas, gas, gas!" Mick Jagger would have sung if he was here this morning. That's because it was so cold that if Mick Jagger was at Chorlton Water Park this morning with his band (I forget the name) and singing Jumping Jack Flash (bear with me here) then he would have got all caught up in the moment and changed the words to Jumping Jack Frost. Also, if Mick Jagger was here this morning then it was so cold that his pecker would have shrunk to less than a 1/4 of an inch. Sadly he wasn't here this morning, and neither were many birds, with a Pochard x Ferruginous hybrid being the clear winner. Others included the Scaup and over 60 Redwing with some in song.

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The Firecrest's still in Manchester - brilliant. Only again, I can't seem to find it. Oh well, there'll be plenty more chances.

6th February, Higher Green & Astley Moss

A Firecrest in Manchester - brilliant. Only I can't seem to find it. Oh well, there'll be plenty more chances. At least a Barn Owl flew over the road at nearby Astley Moss at dusk.

5th February, Chorlton Water Park & Heaton Park Reservoir

"Hello? Hello? Is there anyone out there?" I might have said this morning but didn't. You see the mist was so thick that t'other side of t'lake was invisible. I only got halfway around and then decided to go home and watch Bargain Hunt.

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The Heaton Park gull roost tonight had just 0.75 gulls - a single dying Herring Gull drifting in and out of consciousness and performing an occasional moment of dramatic death throes, no doubt associated with botulism which is to be fully expected for a creature whose dietary habits seem to revolve around eating shit dumped on landfill sites. At least there was a Manc year tick in the shape of 4 Ringed Plovers.

3rd February, Farnham GPs & Bingley

Another day out for the Pacific Diver and American Robin: two birds just a short distance apart that have sparked yet further controversy surrounding the two most important (and mind-numbingly inane) topics in contemporary twitching, namely suppression (boo hiss!) and the new generation of long lens telephoto retards (string them up, the bastards!) Look at the photo below:

It seems like just an ordinary Saturday morning by a sailing lake. Does it? Well look really closely. Now what do you see? Exactly! Look at all the vandalism and the total lack of respect for the bird (Pacific Diver which is quite a rare bird in the UK) and fellow birders. See how twitching has just descended into chaotic farce after chaotic farce. Well can you see it? So of course, suppression of birds is absolutely paramount to the wellbeing of our feathered friends. Just imagine if this raggle taggle covey of thieves, miscreants, villains and hooligans hadn't been carefully marshalled and bereft of £10. Just think of all the damage they could have caused. God, I feel physically sick from the thought of it. I bet a stone wall could have been damaged, no, even worse, crops could have been trampled, and worst of all, no, I can't even bring myself to mention it... oh God, no, please help us... a farmer's gate might get blocked - oh help us Lord! I've never actually seen a stone wall get damaged or crops get trampled by twitchers with my own eyes. Has anyone else? Well it must be true because people mention these violated walls and crops all the time. To be honest, I have seen farmers' gates get blocked, but then again my driveway always gets blocked by inconsiderate cunts using the halal vermin takeaway at the end of our road and I'm pretty sure those fuckers aren't twitchers, so tough shit. There are inconsiderate fuckers in all walks of life and not just twitching. Anyhow, fucking bastard twitchers; a plague on you all! But despite the expected horrors that accompany any visit to a vagrant bird nowadays, we somehow managed to enjoy ourselves and met up with the Punkbirders' spiritual mentor and 'old skool bad ass' Tim Allwood.

Below is a Red Kite, one of 3 which we saw on the way to the American Robin. I have deliberately withheld its precise location so that it won't be scared off by the digital photography brigade.

And now look at this:

Do you see yourself in this photo? If so then shame on you, for no doubt you were part of this inconsiderate ghastly collection of twats that had the cheek and audacity to actually stand quietly on a roadside and look into someone's garden from a respectful distance. No doubt the people shamed in this photo also just stood back and let the new army of low IQ digital photographers trespass on private property and repeatedly flush the Robin, whilst you just stood back and salivated over the thoughts of pin sharp images posted on Surfbirds and Birdguides that you could download and pretend that you took them yourself (or is it just me who does that?). Shame on you all, especially the photographers - you're the biggest bastards of them all!

2nd February, Smithills Moor

After my disastrous day on January 31st, today I made sure that both the place and the weather were spot on, and enlisted the help of S.Cole (Miss) to ensure events ran smoothly. And they did - 3 Red Grouse.

The Red Grouse, Britain's only endemic bird - unless you think they are actually just Willow Grouse, or that Scottish Crossbill is also a full bona-fide species (which I do as it means I get an extra BOU birdspotting tick). Anyway, fuck all that, it just spoils what I'm trying to say... as I was saying, the Red Grouse, Britain's only endemic bird. And what a bird to have as your only endemic (possibly). Definitely one of my top 10 birds, and I'm really being serious. I love them.

Game birds tend to have loads of folkloric bollocks attached to them, so for a deeper understanding of the Moorfowl I knew of no better place to turn to than the greatest collection of ornithological folkloric bollocks of them all: Birds Britannica. I mock, but really it's a brilliant book and well worth the money. I'd buy it for the photos alone. Here's a good bit:

...occasionally [they] make longer journeys. One famous story... involved a tame grouse from Cawdor at the turn of the century. Its party trick was to strut down the dining table, pecking at plates as it went and calling to the guests. Eventually a visitor persuaded its owner to part with the bird and it was taken back with him to Henley-on-Thames. Two weeks later the grouse was discovered to be missing. Thinking that it had been killed, the new owner wrote to Cawdor explaining his sad loss. A reply instantly came back that the bird had beaten the original letter north by a day.

As I said, bollocks! But fun bollocks, because birding doesn't always have to be about the Phylogenetic Species Concept (yeah, and we all know exactly what that is!), moult strategy and filthy suppression.

How about a joke to begin? Okay. Two snowmen walk into a toilet. One says to the other, "Can you smell carrots?" and the other one says, "No, just shit, piss, puke and semen."

And another joke. How many cows does it take to fly a plane? Two.

What's going on? Don't panic, for my crystal ball reveals that there are exciting things afoot, which is just like ahand, or aleg, or anarm. I have much to tell you about, such as meeting Steven Seagal (that's true), making the best ever spaghetti bolognese (that's also true but clearly subjective), foxes shagging behind our house (objectively true) and what happens when you throw carrots at a dead nun from a moving vehicle (potentially misleading). All of it peppered with lots of swear words like fanny, twat, minge and other ones that I just make up like phollic (a dog's fanny), chootray (a horse's twat) and cleebrayner (a sheep's minge). I'll also let you know what birds I've seen. To find out what birds I saw in January you can click the unoriginally titled January word hyperlink super internet portal up near the top left of the page. I was going to call it something else but lost my train of thought. When I've finished with February I'll do the same. And March. And April. But not May. I'll leave it to you to try and guess what I'll do for the remaining months like October, July and the other ones.

Name this tune: d-d. d-d-d-d... d-d-d-d-d  /  d-d. d-d-d-d... d-d-d-d-d  /  d d d d d...d...

If you thought it was Blackbird by Paul McCartney (and I'll bet a testicle [which would leave me with two] that a lot of you did) then you're wrong. It was actually Cantaloupe Island by Herbie Hancock. Ha! Oh yeah, it's always so obvious with hindsight.

So rewire, refuse, resist, refuel, reload and repeat after me:

It's the rhythm that dances through your heart and soul,
And let me tell you baby it's called rock and roll!

But until we meet again I suggest you just go ahead and JUMP!