Minor awakenings

I wake up at more or less the same time every day, 6am. Years and years of conditioning, I simply can't help it. Even if vast quantities of wine have been consumed the result is the same, except with a headache and a dry throat. One of the first things I do is look out of the window. What is the weather like? In April the question has a very particular meaning. What is the weather like for migrants? Blue skies and sunshine, lovely as they are (and God only knows we deserve them after a miserable winter), are crap for migrants. They simply sail right over the top. Other than a smattering of Chiffchaff and increasing numbers of Blackcap, Wanstead migration in 2025 has been limited to two Wheatear, a couple of Willow Warbler, under ten Swallow, a Little Ringed Plover and a Sand Martin. Given that we are approaching mid-April and that the coverage is outstanding this is pathetic. 

So I get up and go to the bathroom. On the way, or more likely on the way back once my eyes have started to work a little better, I take a look at the clear skies and then I go back to bed for a while. There is no point, none whatsoever, in dragging myself to the patch. How I know? Because I've dragged myself to the patch repeatedly and seen nothing for so long that I have wised up. However this morning there appeared to be some white and grey fluffy things in the sky. Eh? Oh clouds, yes, I remember them! I showered, got dressed, and dragged myself to the patch.

This proved worthwhile almost immediately, it is extraordinary what a difference it made. First up a Willow Warbler singing continuously from Long Wood, heard from a long way off and tracked down. Excellent, what a lovely little bird, and to hear that song really buoyed my spirits. Thus lifted I veritably skipped towards VizMig and leaned back against the fence to begin my vigil. Less than ten minutes later a high and distant blob resolved into a Marsh Harrier purposefully heading north, a properly rare bird on the patch and only my fourth. The morning was getting better! Switching to Centre Path as I meandered slowly towards the tube  and Donald Trump's tariffs a small bird flew from one Hawthorn to another without making so much as a sound. I felt I knew it, and when it landed there was a spanking Common Whitethroat in my bins, the first I have seen for many months. I think I am right in saying that this is our first for the year. I carried on, scanning the sky, looking on fence posts. A Sand Martin scudded north as I proceeded south, not the first for the year for the patch, but my first for the year and actually our hardest Hirundine by some margin. As I left the patch four Kestrel and a Sparrowhawk with in the air, with three of the former appearing to head north. We have a local resident pair however these were probably different birds. Other birds on the move included ten Meadow Pipit and some Linnet. A bit of cloud cover, that is all it takes. Imagine what some well-timed rain could do!