Piedmont

OK, so back to 2025. I am determined - just for myself and my sanity - to finish with 2025. There was one last trip in December, the third in a run of consecutive weekends. The one that I think I mentioned that I did not want to go on. The one that was the last thing on earth that I wanted to do at that particular time. The one that I went on anyway and in fact really enjoyed and looking back don't regret for an instant.

I flew to Turin on Friday evening and drove about an hour south to the small town of Carmagnola. Turin is north-west Italy, in Piedmont, where for me the big attractions are the wines of Barolo and Barbaresco. This would be another of those trips combining birding and wine exploration. Carmagnola was chosen for the former, and for being half way towards the latter. 

I'd arrived pretty late so I had a pretty leisurely start, with binoculars deployed only at around 10am. The first location was really as a prelude to the second, which did not open until a little later for some reason. This was the Bosco del Gerbasso, chosen simply because in that area it was the eBird hotspot with the most potential. This is standard practice and it tends to work out. 

The area was one of woods and lakes, with a large (and active) quarry slap bang in the middle of it. There were various paths and trails that generally did loops around the quarry and through the woodland, as well as along the riverbank - in this case the Po, Italy's longest river, which runs nearly all the way across the country to Venice. It was a cool morning but clear, the flat countryside in stark juxtaposition to the backdrop of the Alps, a line of snowy peaks that stretched across the entire horizon. I found the spot without too much difficulty and dropped the car on a stretch of gravel that seemed to function as a small car park. I didn't know exactly where I was going but picked a track that seemed to lead into the reserve, if indeed that is what it was. 

I had an enjoyable walk, a big loop of about three miles, and a lot of good birds seen. I got off to a good start immediately by flushing a Woodcock, and Marsh Tits made themselves apparent nearly from the very start, sneezing in the bushes. I wasn't initially sure what I was hearing, this is a not a species I encounter often, but the marvels of modern technology meant I worked it out quite quickly. Better was yet to come with a Goshawk being pursued by a calling Raven, and happily a Sparrowhawk seen just a few moments later with Collared Dove as if to really reinforce the point. A few Great White Egrets were dotted around, and being a very wooded area lots of small birds too so my list was added to regularly. I have not spent a lot of time in Italy, preferring France as I can speak French, and this means that it is somewhat virgin eBird territory with many common birds being new, which for me as regular readers know is more exciting than for most people. That is changing though, with I think five trips in the last two years. None of them have been dedicated birding excursions, but I always try and make a little time to see what I can add. 

I couldn't get directly back to the car due to a farm being in the way, so ended up on the outskirts of the last village I had driven through and had to walk back along the road, but this added a large group of White Wagtail in a sheep field and a couple of Yellow-legged Gull. My next stop was the real reason I had stayed in this location, the Centro Cicogne di Racconigi. As the name suggests, a Stork haven. In truth half of it was a big aviary, but surrounding this and as I had suspected from the aerial views were a series of pools and hides, and so I had a nice wander around these picking up Green Sandpiper, Common Snipe and Water Rail.  Ducks were less diverse than my online research had suggested, maybe I missed a pool, but I found the line Goldeneye and a pair of Gadwall. Mostly however it was Teal and Mallard. And camotwats, which are apparently a phenomenon in Italy just as they are here. Old and middle-aged white men (mind you, I am probably describing my won age group these days), camo head to toe, all with enormous lenses of varying quality. Every single hide had one in, which meant I mostly couldn't get in as they were almost all little two seater ones, which of course meant one seat for the togger and the other for his immense bag and pile of gear. Some of the larger hides had a whole row of photographers. And big or small all the same nonsense was going on, photographing into the sun, birds miles away, twigs and crap everywhere. I hadn't brought a camera and was glad I had not. Common Crane were heard but not seen somewhere out beyond the boundary, and of course there were good number of White Stork that seemed to be roaming free.

One final stop before Barolo, the Stagni di San Sebastiano, and this was much more satisfying other than the guy in camo hunting with dogs. I made sure he saw me, and to be fair he did seem to be keeping to the edges of the area rather than the large lakes stuffed with ducks. These did not even flinch when his shotgun went off from somewhere in the woods so I presume nobody ever enages them directly. The ducks here were a lot more interesting, with Shoveler, Pochard, Red-crested Pochard and Tufted Duck. On the lower lake, perhaps across the river, was a lone Egyptian Goose which the eBird police subsequently queried so I assume it was quite rare here. It was calling and flying around so not really in doubt - I just said that they bred where I live and were a common sight. A Black Redstart flitted around a ruined house, a Peregrine bombed over, and it was altogether really rather pleasant. And this time I actually got to see some of the Cranes I had been hearing when a group appeared over a distant treeline before dropping down. 

A famous address...

So that concludes the birding for Saturday. Now onto the wine. I was staying in the town of La Morra in the north west of the Barolo region. I popped into the fabulous More e Macine to make a booking for the evening - amazingly they could accomodate me, albeit quite an early table, but that suited me fine as I am not that much into late dining which means you go to bed stuffed. I had a very pleasant wander around the town - more of a village I suppose, buying a few goodies to smuggle home, and popped into a wine bar for a bit of a pick me up. I chose a glass of Verduno Pelaverga. Pelaverga is a grape unique to this region which is only sparsely planted by a few domaines, and is quite distinctive and a far cry from Nebbiolo albeit that is can share some of the same tannic brutality. It was all I wanted it to be - light, peppery and really quite lifted, and not at all a punch in the face. I followed this with a Langhe Nebbiolo from Roccalini which was rather unrefined and coarse. I know, woe is me right?

At More e Macine a little later on I kicked off with a glass of Langhe Favorita from Alessandria which wasn't all that good, a bit rustic I thought, but their 2019 Barolo Monvigliero was a classy number despite its youth. It was outclassed however by Gian Luca Colombo's Ravera - the man is a genius, eveything he makes from the lowliest Langhe seems to turn to gold. He makes a Pelaverga too and it is sensational. However eclipising all of these wines was a broccoli flan of the utmost delicacy and deliciousness. So good I was compelled to take a photograph of it, I am not normally one for this kind of thing, I mean I don't even have an Insta... Incredible, one of the best things I had eaten all year, and something I want to try at home. So light and airy, balanced by a rich pecorino sauce, a divine combination. I still think about it some months later. Tajarin for primi and Tagliati for secondi and I was done, a lovely meal, just a shame there was nobody to share it with. I love virtually everything about travelling solo but dining alone I do not enjoy. That is changing though as Mrs L and I are very nearly empty nesters or whatever the phrase is. When I started this blog our youngest child was two years old. She is now 18 and in Vietnam, and starts university in September. The other two are already at university and so Mrs L and I have a level of freedom that we have not experienced for more than two decades. And this time around we have money. So solo travel will diminish and instead we can go places a deux. Less birding, but better for other reasons, and we have started 2026 as we mean to continue.

Of course this trip to Piedmont was in 2025 and in a few short paragraphs it will be over and I can turn the metaphorical page and start afresh. I cannot remember if I had cheese or not, I expect I did, and fairly rolled back across the street to my accomodation. The next day I did a bit more shopping, wine shop browsing and vineyard exploration before switching back to birding mode. I dipped a Shrike somewhere and then went to some lakes called the Oasi Naturalistica La Madonnina which like the Stork place was absolutely stuffed with camotwats. Amazing. I added a few birds here such as Black-crowned Night Heron and Common Kingfisher, but it was in no way as productive as I had been hoping.

One more tajarin for the road

Back in wine land I visited the village of Verduno in the north of Barolo. I found the only open restaurant in the village and had another splendid lunch, albeit smaller and with only a tiny sip of wine as I was driving. As with the place in La Morra it was entirely populated with Italian families out for a family meal. Maybe this happens in London more frequently than I think it does, but I fully support it. That said nice food in Italy costs a fraction of what it does here, my meals in Piedmont would have got me mass-market chain food back home. And so that was it. Another stroll around Verduno to look at some of the hallowed slopes and then back to Turin where I could not help but stop at a pasta factory with an attached factory shop in which to fill up any remaining crevices in my luggage.

Ciao 2025!

     

Back in Fife

I went up to Fife for the first time this year last weekend. I would normally go earlier but I've been a bit busy. As ever birding was not the primary reason for going up, but seeing as I was there. I didn't actually book it that long ago, and as I'd muted the various birding WhatsApp groups I hadn't really been particularly aware of the kind of winter they had been having. About two weeks before I went I idly scanned some recent messages and was blown away! There was an influx of White-billed Divers all around the coast, with a number seemingly now hanging around in the Forth. Wow! As far I was aware WBD has only been seen very infrequently, with a couple of records from Fife Ness and then I think a bird in Largo Bay, both when I wasn't in Fife. Would they stick?

More importantly, would they survive? As the days went on more and more reports of tideline corpses of White-billed Divers started popping up on the group. Clearly they were so battered from whatever inclement weather had pushed them down here in the first place that they were extremely weak. Reports seemed to indicate that they were able to feed, so perhaps an indication of disease, coming into contact with birds that live in colonies, the dreaded avian flu? Casualties were not restricted to White-billed Divers however, there were lots of Auks and other birds as well. But with a finite number of WBDs on offer I was selfishly (shellfishly?) worried they might, er, run out before I got there.

A couple of days before I flew yet another dead bird was found on the Eden estuary, but there seemed more positive news from the other side of the county where three birds remained in the Forth, regularly being seen off Inverkeithing. I arrived on Thursday evening and worked on Friday with no time to get out, but come Saturday I found myself at Port Laing looking at a dead flat sea. And bang in the middle of my scope was a White-billed Diver! A second was a little further out, and further still was what I strongly suspected was the third, but this one had to go down as Diver Sp. What a magnificent bird the closest one was though. I've seen just two White-billed Divers before, the first being a twitch many years ago down to Brixham in Devon, and then more recently (but still five years ago) a bird that Bradders, Howard and I lucked out on in Shetland. And so here I was looking at two birds at the same time, alive and well. Although that said at least one of the birds seemed to be shaking its head from side to side quite frequently which I am pretty sure is not a good sign. We shall see. I spent a good while admiring them, it will probably be many years before I see another.

My next stop was St Margaret's Marsh just a short distance away on the other side of the bridges. Sat between Inverkeithing and Rosyth I didn't even discover this site until relatively recently. I think I was looking for a Water Pipit but I now cannot remember - I didn't see it, instead I coincided with some Jack Snipe ringers and from a distance saw them miss loads! This morning I was once again looking for a Water Pipit, and indeed it had been reported that morning. Unfortunately it had been reported flying into Rosyth dockyard and it didn't come out again either that morning or during the remainder of my time in Fife. It's back now of course....

Regardless, of the two species I would much rather have seen the Divers and so have no regrets about having stopped off at Dalgety Bay first. I spend the rest of the morning happily birding various sites back along the Forth towards Largo Bay. I stopped at Buckhaven to see if I could find the Stejneger's Scoter or lookalike, but I couldn't reliably call it. The best bird was a really cool Velvet Scoter with a pure white head that made it look a bit like a farmyard duck. Plenty of Red-throated Divers, a single Great Northern Diver, Long-tailed Ducks and a Puffin - this is probably the earliest Puffin I have ever seen. In Largo Bay I think I counted seven Slavonian Grebes and three Red-necked Grebes, and there were loads more Velvet Scoter and other wintering species. I do so like having all this on my doorstep when I am up there.

I stayed in on Sunday morning, the weather was a bit crappy and I had various jobs to do for the aged relatives. I also caught up on writing up all my wine notes from the prior week which had been quite heavy - around 40 notes written. When I am finally incapable of writing anything I will look back at my full output and marvel at how prolific I was, and none of it for work which insists on crisp bullet points and nothing floral. I'm good at that too, but I prefer this. It must be hundreds of thousands of words, possibly millions.

My first stop was Angle Park where nothing was happening. The water levels both here and at Letham Pools are extremely high, I would be surprised if either site gets a single wader this spring. I spent the rest of the afternoon at Guardbridge chatting to Malc whilst we searched in vain for an Iceland Gull that had been there the day before. Plenty of birds around, a Black-tailed Godwit alone amongst Redshank and Dunlin, and a single Slavonian Grebe in the channel. We reminisced about the Bridled Tern day, but most of all Malc sold Lesvos to me. I've never been and want to go more than ever. 

I took a final spin up to St Andrews, clocking the Brent flock as I drove alongside the estuary, before stopping at The Scores. Lots of Fulmar and lots of people for the weather was now really rather nice. I declined to walk with the rest of humanity up the West Sands and instead went to Birnie and Gaddon and did the full circuit to try and get my step count up. Lots of Goldeneye, but I couldn't find the Great White Egret. 

Finally

I actually went birding this morning. I had planned to last night but woke up to heavy fog and changed my mind. Snooze. The next time I opened my eyes sunshine was hitting the bedroom floor. The fog was 90% gone. Gah! Yesterday it had lingered for much longer. I leapt from bed, showered, grabbed my bins and headed out. Oh, I got dressed too.

Rather than hit the Flats (despite the lure of a potential super-early Wheatear) I went to the Park. There are still a number of things that I need for the year that are far more likely here - birds like Kingfisher, Grey Wagtail and Cetti's Warbler. Naturally I didn't see any of them, but my goodness what a lovely morning it was. Quite mild with blue skies and, praise be, sunshine. The sun! Had I not been away to Morocco recently I don't think I would have remembered what sunshine even was, it has been the most miserably damp and grey start to the year I can recall for a long time. Just grim. But today it was lovely. I was admiring the near pristine hoods of the Black-headed Gulls on Heronry when a strange song behind me made me turn around. Wait, I know that! A Blackcap! Almost certainly a bird that overwintered rather than an arrival, but nonetheless a welcome sight that cannot help but cheer a person up.

A little later on, a bit closer to the main Park gates, a Chiffchaff started up. Wow! I think I ended up hearing seven singing birds in total, mostly in the Old Sewage Works where I tried (and failed) for the Cetti's Warbler. It didn't matter, it was just lovely to finally be outside and birding locally. 

A Great Crested Grebe was asleep on Heronry, but Duck numbers seem well down. That is if they were ever decent in the first place. I wouldn't know as I didn't really go out. A single Pochard, a single Gadwall, a single Shoveler - seems pretty poor for early March but who knows. With a spring in my step I headed home for a day of toil. I have missed loads of birds this winter due to apathy, but this morning felt like I was back on track. Maybe I have that S.A.D. thing? Personally I think it is very sensible and rational to stay indoors, warm and dry, rather than go out and get cold and wet to find birds that I will almost certainly see without even trying later on. But I would like to see a Teal....

Just in time for returning passerines

#AlwaysOnHoliday

So that was Oregon. It would be easy to assume that I am permanently on holiday but I can assure you that is far from the being the case. Although the last dozen posts or so (generating a massive response of two whole comments) have indeed been about places other than Wanstead, I do in fact spend most of my life in Wanstead. Actually that might be a lie, I probably spend more time in Canary Wharf. Anyway, that last run posts encompasses most of the latter half of 2025, I think it is the compressed nature of how I end up blogging about it that gives the impression of being on one long jolly. Sadly not. There are long stretches - very long stretches, and I use stretch very much in the penal sense of the word - where nothing at all happens and I go nowhere. I live a normal life just like everyone else does. However as I cannot be bothered with any other form of social media, especially the sort where you can share your non-existence as it happens, detailing the minutest nothings at all hours of the day and night, what ends up here is very unrepresentative.

The birding in Wanstead has been dire. Dire. I am actually ahead of where I was in 2025 but that is not saying a great deal. The main problem has been the weather. I do not like to get wet when I do not need to. And there is absolutely no need to get a soaking so that I can see a Grey Wagtail or some other dross for the sake of a year list. Put simply, this winter has been grim and so I have stayed inside and done other things, all of which have been boring or of limited literary merit. Go ahead and label me as uncommitted, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I'll catch up, I always do.

Plus it is about to become exciting again. The 2026 Wanstead Wheatear Sweepstake draw happened the other day, overseen by Chairman Brown. I have been assigned the 16th and the 27th. Whilst the 16th of March is not a weekend this year, it is nonetheless the top date - three out of the last eight years - for the first Wheatear arrival. I hear that a bird was seen in Sussex today which makes me slightly nervous. But only slightly. The south coast always gets a super early bird, but it isn't until there are major arrivals that we stand any kind of chance. The south-east has to be saturated before we get even a sniff, this is the price we pay for living inland in a large city. With major airports.

And of course whilst Wheatear might be the most exciting spring arrival, it is not the only one, nor is it always the first. Sand Martins can be very early, so can Little Ringed Plover. In a little more than 30 days from now passage will be in full swing and all birders will be happy again. I might even blog about it. But only after I've written up Piedmont, Arizona, Lisbon, Morocco, Fife and Milan.

Oregon - November 2025 - Trip List

The trip list was 106, about what I expected. Of these six were new for the USA, and five were new world ticks. It was all about America though, and these six took me to 593. A notable milestone is just around the corner...How people do yearlists of 700+ is beyond me, I feel like I've been birding in America for most of my adult life and am still shy of 600! (or was at the end of this trip at any rate, come back soon for an update.....surprise!)

Had the conditions been good for seawatching I might have added another five that first morning - this remains the largest gap for me. One day I need to go on a pelagic, it could propel me to new heights.

Oregon - November 2025 - Inland

Lewis's Woodpecker

Somewhere along the line my plans had changed, and instead of birding around McMinnville I was now headed back south to Ankeny. Annoying when you have to change a plan but that’s birding. On offer was one of just three remaining Woodpeckers in the US, Lewis’s Woodpecker. As far as I could remember I’d never been anywhere near one. And remarkably, although it hadn’t been reported for a week, I got it. I’d arrived at what was a known stakeout for it not really expecting to find it, and indeed after half an hour searching the specified trees had not found it and wandered off birding elsewhere. It was a good site for other reasons and I’d seen quite a lot before I bumped into another birder who said he’d had the Woodpecker not five minutes earlier in exactly the spot I’d started. I hurried on down the hill to where I’d left the car and found the Woodpecker exactly where he said it was. For exactly five seconds before it then flew over my head and landed in the tree above where I’d been standing. Back up the hill I trekked, and together the other birder and I admired this unique-looking bird. And then it flew back to the tree above my car again. Just Red-naped Sapsucker and American Three-toed Woodpecker to go now. Rather than follow it I birded my way back down and then went down the road a bit to a slough that had more ducks on it than were possible to count, Bald Eagles (which by the way make a really wimpy sound), Cackling Geese, Bewick's Swans, a few waders, and a Pied-billed Grebe. Also seen in this general area were California Scrub Jays, Northern Harrier, Red-tailed Hawk, Bewick's Wren, Western Meadowlark, and lots of Sparrows including more Golden-crowned Sparrow.

Eagle Marsh, Ankeny

Pintail

Further south than I wanted to be I headed back north to a huge site, Baskett Slough. Realising I’d bitten off more than I could chew I confined myself to a trail on a small hill named after a ranger who had died in one of the 911 planes, Rich Guadagno. The trees here held loads of Acorn Woodpeckers, Brown Creeper and White-breasted Nuthatch. Below, on the marsh, were thousands of Cackling Geese. With time running out I rolled the dice one last time and went to Jackson Bottom Wetlands Preserve where a Clay-coloured Sparrow had been reported. It was a longer walk than I thought with the area the bird had been favouring right at the end of the furthest end of the reserve. A pair of birders had seen it briefly and were hoping for better views. I joined them, hoping that their wish would be fulfilled. And it was! The fifth and final tick of the trip, a diminutive and pale Sparrow that was notably smaller than the Dark-eyed Juncos and other Sparrows that it was associating with.

Clay-coloured Sparrow

I spent the final half hour before leaving for the airport at Fernhill Wetlands. A busy site, lots of people out for a walk around a series of ponds, it took seemingly forever to find the Cinammon Teal that I knew to be here. As dusk fell I headed east to Portland for my flight home. A deeply satisfying weekend, I had made the most of a very short amount of time and birded my 41st State. The final tally was 106 species, but I had spent a fair amount of time targeting specific birds rather than going all out for sheer numbers. The flight arrived in London mid-morning and off to Canary Wharf I trundled.

Mount Hood

Oregon - November 2025 - The Coast

This was the point late in the year where I managed to spend three consecutive weekends away from home. I love home. I like nothing better than to mooch around the house doing small jobs and getting in the way. But I also like to travel, and for reasons unknown I had managed to book three in a row. The first two were OK. The third, like the first also to Italy, was a real drag but of course I went anyway and had a lovely time. I do this about once every two years, forgetting how annoying I find it even though it is entirely my fault.

This particular trip was a real indulgence. Aren’t they all? Oregon. Detractors should stop reading now as I went for the weekend which writing this in the cold light of day does seem ridiculous but there you have it. There are so many places I want to visit and I cannot possibly fit them in unless I do stupid do things like this. So, Friday afternoon to Sunday evening then, sounds like a plan. What could I fit in? As ever, a lot.

I landed in Portland late on Friday afternoon with about an hour of daylight remaining. Picking up hire cars in the US is simplicity itself and so this left me with just enough time to visit a pond near the airport to get the list off to a small start. For this was of course the entire point of this trip – Oregon was a new State. Well, that’s not quite true. Back in 1986 as part of an immense family road trip we had driven up the Oregon coast, State line to State line, and then onwards through Washington into British Columbia. But this was as a child in the time before eBird. I had scoured family photo albums in vain hoping to find a Gull in the background of a beach shot but it was not to be. There was nothing for it, I had to go again. And in fact this was no bad thing as there were a number of ABA targets on the coast that I could try for over the weekend. And as if I needed convincing Oregon also happens to make a fair bit of wine – Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, essentially my favourites. I was on my way.

With the list off to a small start, the all-important segment of the map inked in after nearly 30 years, I pointed the car west and headed though the Willamette to the Pacific Ocean that I had not dipped a toe in since 2023. I found the drive extremely difficult, very tiring indeed, I may need to reconsider my strategy for future long-haul trips. Back in the day I would think nothing of time differences and just get on with it, but in my sixth decade I don’t have the stamina I once had. I made it of course, and once I heard the ocean crashing against the rocks at Depoe Bay I felt sufficiently invigorated to saunter into a shoreside restaurant for a piece of grilled halibut preceded by a negroni. I had no trouble sleeping.

Boiler Bay

I also had no trouble waking up….I was pacing the room well before dawn, itching to get going. Coffee was sourced at a local gas station and less than a ten minute drive up the road I arrived at Boiler Bay State Wayside Park, a site identified some months ago as one likely to deliver a good selection of seabirds. Of course the meaty storm that had pushed all my ABA targets within sight of land had blown itself out a few days before and on what was a perfectly clear day the horizon was about ten miles distant. It was unlikely to be a classic seawatch, but having come so far I felt compelled to give it a go. I might not be getting Shearwaters and rare Auks, but there were a couple of Gulls on offer at least. The first of these did not take long, Short-billed Gull is very common here, and two flew flew past during the first hour (I would later see many more). I also managed to get a Kittiwake, long missing from my American list. The first part of the plan was going well. Also notable were lots of Surf Scoters and White-winged Scoters, lots and lots of Red-throated Divers heading south, and a smaller number of Pacific Divers that I was gradually able to work out. I stuck it out for longer than I should before driving north to the next spot, Siletz Bay, where I’d noted that Golden-crowned Sparrow was being consistently reported on the edge of a golf course. I found these immediately, or rather Merlin did and I then homed in. Simple. Honestly, what a great tool. in the pines here there were also Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Wrentit and Ruby-crowned Kinglet.

Glaucous-winged Gull

Brewer's Blackbird

I spent the rest of the morning birding quietly up the coast. At Josephine Young Park I got a proper look at Short-billed Gull as a flock were sat out on the sand. This was a decent little spot, the park itself is miniscule but still had a Hermit Thrush, White-crowned Sparrow and a vocal pair of Spotted Towhee, whilst the bay is teeming with birds and I added Grey Plover, Dunlin, California Gull, and Red-breasted Merganser. As is my normal strategy I had researched eBird extensively in the days leading up to the trip and had a good number of pins saved down which I simply worked south to north. Of note were tremendous numbers of ducks, Pintail and Bufflehead in particular were absolutely everywhere. At D River Open Space a short boardwalk was extremely productive with Anna's Hummingbird, Belted Kingfisher, Northern Flicker, Fox Sparrow, Yellowthroat and several Steller's Jay. I also visited Regatta Park and Schooner Creek Pullout. 

When I reached the last one I turned round and retraced my route past where I started to Devil's Punchbowl State Park where I hoped to find a Rock Sandpiper. The eBird lists that are the most helpful are those that include either habitat shots or written descriptions of exactly where a given bird was. Rock Sandpiper, which is quite like a Purple Sandpiper, must be one of those reasonably hard to find birds that encourage people to write something down and so I knew exactly where to look, which was vertically below the footpath onto a mussel-covered ledge that was constantly awash with incoming waves. In the infrequent gaps where the rock and molluscs were exposed a small number of waders would scuttle out from an area that couldn’t be seen and feed frenetically before the next wave would send them back up the ledge. About half a dozen Black Turnstones made up most of the birds with a smaller number of Surfbirds, and in amongst them was a single Rock Sandpiper for the win. I love it when a plan hatched thousands of miles away actually delivers. There were also Harlequin Ducks here, and Slavonian and Western Grebes on the sea. And Bald Eagles!

Bald Eagle

This was the last new bird possible on the coast so I switched into State listing mode, after all everything here was a new bird for Oregon. I carried on south to Newport and Yaquina Bay, and dumping the car above the vast beach made my way down onto the sand. The coast here is wild and bleak, it reminded of me of La Push further north in Washington state. Immense logs are piled up as if matchsticks, the thunder of the surf is neverending, the sense of space almost overwhelming. I had the beach entirely to myself, there might have a few dogwalkers about a mile and half further up, but I felt completely alone, in a different world. Up in the town of Newport behind the bluff there were no doubt people, but down here looking west there were no people for a thousand miles. Taking advantage of this isolation a group of Snowy Plover sheltered in the slightly deeper sand, with them a lone Killdeer. From the breakwater I counted six Red-necked Grebe, two Slavonian Grebe, two Great Northern Divers, six Red-throated Divers, two Pacific Divers and a Barrow's Goldeneye all taking advantage of the calmer water between the jetties.

Yaquina, north shore

I took the bridge over the harbour entrance to South Beach and around to the Yaquina Bay Estuary Trail, another site that I had marked down. I forget now exactly what I was looking for, but in the sheltered sound I found hundreds of ducks and waders. American Wigeon, Pintail, Green-winged Teal, Bufflehead, three Hudsonian Whimbrel and a load of Dunlin. Once again I was alone, this is the land of the car. If you leave it behind you leave humanity behind. A few boats puttered across the sound, fishermen coming home, but other than that it was just me and the birds.

With the daylight that remained I drove down the south side of the breakwater to look at the Pacific for one last time. If anything the beach this side was larger and wilder still. A mother and child were doing the same thing as me, looking wistfully out in awe. Leaving my tripod behind I chanced it and ran down to the surf to feel the water. Bending down I had a quick splash, allowing the sand to furrow around my fingers as the water receded before I had to beat a rapid retreat.

Inland to McMinnville some two hours distant and much of the way back to Portland. Before retiring I went to the HiFi wine bar, owned by Evan Martin of Martin Woods Winery. I’d been to a masterclass when he’d been in London, a tutored tasting of his latest wines. The Pinots were delectable and I’d bought a number of them. He’d mentioned the place then, and said drop in if I was ever in the area. He wasn’t there of course, I had not expected him to be, but I had a glass of his wine to confirm its greatness and a small bite to eat. What a great day!