No Migrants

I find it very very difficult to get up early. This is because I find it very difficult to go to bed early, or at least at a time befitting of a man of my extreme age. There is just too much to do. In an ideal world, every day would be about 36 hours long - this would just about be enough to squeeze in all the things that I want to do. Nonethless, today the alarm was set for 5:40am in anticipation of hordes of Migrants all over Wanstead Flats - Mrs L wasn't happy, but I was resolute. In an effort to appease I made her a cup of tea, and then snuck out. For once I had the Flats completely to myself, and I mean completely. No joggers, no dogs, no birders. Whilst the going was good I hastened to Alex for the waderfest that no doubt awaited.

Leaving Alex I went back to the broom fields and waited for the Wheatears to wake up and make themselves known, and for the Sand Martins to start flicking overhead. I waited quite a long time. Instead I took more than a few photographs of Skylarks as we need some for a new web-page on them. A couple of small woodpecker seekers turned up a little while later, and one of them got their arm twisted to take me to Shoebury for an Essex Shorelark tick which would be absolutely nailed on.

Note the Shorelark consorting happily with these Sanderling

Leaving Shoebury, the next stop was Southend for some Med Gull action. A single Med Gull was present, and to describe anything it did as "action" would be stretching it somewhat. It showed a brief interest in a chip that I threw for it, but when this was instead snaffled by a Black-headed Gull, it buggered off down the sea-front in disgust and I couldn't be bothered to go after it. And that was my day.