Arrived at Thornham Harbour at about half seven, down to zero remaining toes by about 8am, snowed on by about 10am, but we saw the presumed North American Hen Harrier, aka Northern Harrier, aka Marsh Hawk. Who knows what to call it, but very clearly not like any juv Hen Harrier I have ever seen. So it must be one, as I have seen, er, loads. Kind of. Actually that is a lie. My spreadsheet of happiness tells me that I have seen fifteen Hen Harriers. Ever. I'm actually a bit surprised, I had thought that it would be more than that, but then again the spreadsheet never lies. For example, it tells me I've seen a Blue-cheeked Bee-eater, which of course I have, and tells me I haven't see a European Bee-eater, which I haven't. This is just an example you understand, picked out of thin air, I was grasping at suitably illustrative straws to demonstrate the unerring accuracy of the spreadsheet. There were others I could have picked, no need to go through them, you know what they are...
I've actually never seen one in America either, so technically it is a new world bird for me, but somehow all the lists I keep on Bubolisting have the entire Hen Harrier complex down as one super-species, so very sadly no editing required. I will however keep this bird squirrelled away, ready to roll it out whenever the great and the good decide that the time is ripe, which could of course be never, and I will have lost all my toes for no good reason. A bit too distant for any kind of decent image so I didn't bother. Here, have a Black-tailed Godwit from the same location as a slightly less educational substitute.
By about ten-ish Bradders and I decided we'd had as good views as we were going to get, and headed off. The steadily-falling snow and lure of hot food at Titchwell had nothing to do with it. Immense bacon sarnie at the cafe followed by a quick trip down the footpath, culminating in impressive numbers of Common Scoter on the sea, with a few Velvets thrown in. By far the highlight though was a man wearing a Tilley Hat confidently identifying a Little Crested Grebe - a new bird for me actually - followed by saying something I very sadly I missed the first part of, but which ended in "....all jolly confusing!" Whoever said that stereotypes don't exist is of course quite correct, there is clearly no such thing.
A quick stop at Burham Norton a little later turned out to be a big mistake, as the worst possible event in birding occurred. As we were trying (and generally failing) to photograph a Barn Owl, Bradders saw a Phyllosc briefly in some reeds. We expected it to be a Chiffy, but it flew up a short while later and sat on a branch briefly, revealing itself to be a Yellow-browed Warbler. Cool, we thought, and then realised that it was fairly dull. Ah. Just as my poor old brain was processing this fact, and coming to the realisation that it was extremely important that I scrutinised the bill (it will perhaps surprise regular readers that I actually knew at least one thing to look for without reference to literature), it flew off, never to be seen again. I believe the word is "bugger". Never called. Bradders, after chatting with the good folk at the pager company, put it out as a possible Hume's, which we figured would entice people to come and help us look. This it did, and is of why this is the worst possible event in birding. You find something, probably something quite good, but you don't get good enough views. Circumstantially, it feels pretty good - good date, one trapped just up the road only a few days ago - but there is no way you're ever going to know. It does a runner, a permanent runner, and then people start to turn up. This being Norfolk, lots of people, some quite eminent in the world of birding, or indeed in the Birding World... And still there is no bird, and this continues up to and beyond the point where people start to leave, disillusioned, possibly muttering unfair comments. To be fair, no-one audibly said the word "string", but it's a tricky old situation, and you can't help feeling slightly self-conscious. Happily I was able to tell everyone that Bradders found it, that it was nothing to do with me, and that no I'd never seen him before in my life and couldn't vouch for his reliability. Had it been refound, and proved to be a Hume's, then I may have told a different story, but that of course would have been a different story...
One that got away, but that's birding for you. And I am of course joking about people muttering. But I'll be checking Bird Forum very carefully in the coming days....
We at Birdwatch split Northern Harrier!
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