A Yellow-breasted Bunting - before they're all eaten!

At this time of year my smallholding activities fall by the wayside and visitors to this blog are instead regaled with tales of my unpredictable dashes to see rare birds in far-flung corners of Britain.

And if the birding goes really well, big gaps appear in the blog.

And so we go back to Wednesday 20th September which tells you that things have been rather hectic between then and now (7th October). News of a Yellow-breasted Bunting on Out Skerries, a small group of islands which form part of the Shetland Isles.

News broke at lunch time  and I went into sulk mode as, unusually, it was going to be very hard to switch work around and go before the weekend.
When I started birding Yellow-breasted Buntings were fairly regular, several appearing each year. Most were on the Northern Isles but occasionally one would appear in an easier location to reach. But then the population plummeted (the Chinese decided to eat them all) and records in Britain dried up.
Younger birders (I include myself!!!) were beginning to think that we might not get another chance to catch up with this species.
So the prospect of having to wait till the weekend threw me into a decidedly confused and panicky state of mind.
This became significantly worse when, an hour later, news of a Siberian Thrush on the same group of islands came through too. I need that one too!

But that all changed as my fairy godmother came to the rescue and it transpired I would not need to be at work on the Thursday. By now others had made their plans and I thought my options for getting to Out Skerries would be closed. I was pleasantly surprised to find that flights to Shetland have considerably reduced in price over the past year (due to renewed competition between Loganair and Flybe). In fact quoted prices were ridiculously cheap and it would be rude not to book at least one way. If prices stay so low it will be a game changer in terms of twitching Shetland.
Meanwhile friends were doing their best to track down a boat to get us across the final stretch of water to Out Skerries.

By late evening I was on the road along with a very old friend who had seen Yellow-breasted Buntings back in the day but who still needed Siberian Thrush. My priority, by virtue of plummeting records, was the bunting.
The drive was long but one with which I am familiar and by 6am we were negotiating security in Aberdeen airport. Others had come from different points and so five of us all crammed into the smallest hire car you could possibly imagine. Sardines would have felt cramped!

We did a little token birding in South Mainland before parking up at Laxo ferry terminal. Dan had managed to charter the whole vehicle ferry for us as there were no scheduled crossings today.
The crossing was not too bad and we all trooped off the ferry and were led in a yomp across the island by one of the locals.

We all stopped on one of the narrow lanes where we parked our gear against a wall. The bird, we were told, would soon show on the stone walls or on the road verge about 50 yards ahead of us.The weather had now turned drizzly and everything was gradually getting wetter and wetter. The wait was tense. However safe a bird feels, things can always go disastrously wrong at the last stage.
After about 20 minutes I saw the bird hop up onto a wall - not the best view through damp optics, but enough for the tick. Relief.
I gave directions to the other birders but had to stop when a few of them inconsiderately moved right in front of me. I muttered my frustration and shifted my position.

Over the next half hour or so everybody got views but they were always quite distant and typically brief. It was decided to venture forward towards the bird's favoured area, a couple of weedy compounds surrounded by semi-derelict stone walls.
Eventually we secured fantastic views, even if the bird was rather bedraggled.

Thnks to Graham Jepson for this wonderful image of the Yellow-breasted Bunting

(taken the next day, when it was a bit drier!

Thanks must go to the small team of birders who had put themselves in such a remote location in hope of such a find. Well done lads!

After a couple of hours it was time to be heading off the island and back to Lerwick to seek accommodation. A clash with Wool Week (I was more interested in this than my mates) meant that we were lucky to get a dorm for the six of us.

I nearly forgot. The Siberian Thrush had been a no-show (aren't they always) so Neil (the old one) was enjoying a dip. For the rest of us we had scored the more important bird so a celebration curry in Lerwick was the order of the evening. Neil got his revenge by raising the roof of the youth hostel that evening with his snoring!
Our plans were open, with no return flight yet booked, so we decided to spend Thursday on Fetlar, an island I last visited over thirty years ago when I was just discovering the joys of birding and the delights of the Northern Isles.

Not one but two Common Rosefinches

It was a nostalgic visit for me. Birding wise, the island was full of promise. We failed to turn up any major rarities but did unearth a couple of Common Rosefinches, a Barred Warbler and we amassed a haul of over 30 Yellow-browed Warblers during the day (absolutely astonishing how this species has pioneered a new migration route in recent years).

Another night in the youth hostel to recuperate properly before the journey back south to Fenland. A little birding in the morning was more difficult going than yesterday but we still managed to unearth a new Barred Warbler and a handful of Yellow-broweds.

Getting ready for the return journey

in Sumburgh Airport

The return journey was long but eased by the warm glow of knowing that, had we waited till the weekend, we would not have seen the Yellow-breasted Bunting, for it disappeared overnight on Friday to the chagrin of all those on the Saturday morning flights.

And so in the middle of the night I arrived back on the farm with Yellow-breasted Bunting in the bag (not literally - we are competitive but not to that extent). In less than a week I would be driving back up to Aberdeen for our annual week on Shetland. This was just the prelude.
I have a busy week ahead of me before then, for I am working every day in order to accrue time should I need to shoot off again.

I was back in time for the Fenland Smallholders Annual Produce Show (having missed it for the last three years - all birding related).
I loaded the car with my prized vegetables. I scooped five prizes in total and was very pleased to take Wonkiest Veg.
It was nice to check everything on the smallholding too.

Sue does a fantastic job looking after everything when I dash off.

An even bigger carrot-billed monster bird

I had been gardening all day and not keeping my eye on any of my communication devices. So I was a little miffed when I came in for a bite to eat to discover there had been a Black Stork in Lincolnshire for over 2 hours earlier in the day. It had now flown off.

Not to worry, I would possibly have missed it anyway and it can take over 2 hours to get to North Lincolnshire from our little corner of the county.
It was at a place called Dunsby Fen and when I looked it up I was doubly miffed, for it was just the other side of Spalding, about 40 minutes away.

Then a message from a friend. Black Stork is back. I jumped in the car, not even pausing to leave Sue a note telling where I had gone - she would work it out - and sped across the bumpy fenland roads. Just over half an hour later I pulled up along a narrow country lane where two other cars were parked. I had a nice chat to two locals who told me every detail of how and where they had seen the bird and told me in which direction it had flown when last seen. Drat. There wasn't much time left and the bird could be anywhere now, with virtually nobody looking.

I decided to take a little drive around to work out the lie of the land. But just 100 yards down the road I passed a carload of birders who informed me that the bird was sat in a dead tree just around the corner. What a stroke of luck! I left a cloud of dust behind after hearing this unexpected piece of good news. It must have been less than a minute before I got to the only obvious dead tree in the area, but there was no Black Stork perched in it. Unbelievable. I scanned everywhere but to no avail. Shortly after, another couple of cars pulled up, birders who I knew. We were pretty much back to square one, though with a faint hope that the bird would fly back into the dead tree at some point.
But time was against up. The sun was going down and our chances of success were growing slimmer by the minute. Not one to give up, I headed off along a dyke in the hope of pulling a magic rabbit out of the hat.

Time to give up

By 9.15pm it was clear that we were on a loser, so I headed homeward hoping to get back to the smallholding maybe even before Sue got back from her band practice. She wouldn't even know I had been out! But she was home and had managed to work out the reason for my absence without any explanation. She knows me well.




But the story doesn't end there. I had a feeling the bird would be feeding back in its favoured spot the next day, but not wanting to get burned twice I resolved to wait for news before heading out. Besides, I wanted to visit a pond plant centre in mid Lincolnshire so figured I could combine the two into one trip.
I awoke earlyish the next morning to news that the Black Stork had left the dead tree (yes the same one it flew into last night - goodness knows what happened there) and was stood on the track. I completed the morning routines (chickens, polytunnel etc) before heading out, this time at a more leisurely pace. When I arrived there were a lot more vehicles than the previous night and 20 or so birders were stood on a small bridge with binoculars and cameras pointing down into the dyke. The bird must be showing well for nobody was even bothering to use a telescope.

I reached the bridge and there it was, a young Black Stork feeding by the weir as bold as brass, totally unconcerned by the group of admirers up on the bridge.

Spot the stork!

Apologies for mediocre quality images, but I was just using my phone held up to the binoculars and telescope

 In fact, the bird was so unconcerned by human presence that at one point it actually perched on my finger 😀

A carrot-billed monster bird drops in locally

Last week saw Arthur and Boris paying their second ever trip to the dog groomers.

I eagerly awaited their return, but early afternoon news came through of a Caspian Tern nearby. I have seen this species three times in Britain and wouldn't drop everything to go and see another. It is hard to catch up with, but an easy enough bird to see every couple of years if you are prepared to travel.
Having said that, Caspian Terns are most impressive beasts, dwarfing our native terns. They have a stonking great red bill. That's about all you need to know to identify one.

I hung around for Sue to return with the dogs and then we all jumped in the car and headed off over to Baston and Langtoft Pits. It only took half an hour and as we pulled up the bird was on show, just resting and bathing in shallow water. In fact, that's all it did for the entire time we stayed.



The bird was indeed impressive. It was the first for the Peterborough area for many years, so there was quite a turn out of locals. But the dogs and Sue soon got bored. Once they had shown off their nice new hairstyles to the locals (the dogs, not Sue!), we headed off to Deeping High Bank to take Arthur and Boris for a good walk.

  Before and after the groomer  

Mon Amur!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday 6th July 2017
It had been a lovely evening with the Cambridgeshire Self Sufficiency Group. Good people, good food and an interesting talk on water conservation and making your own borehole. Out of decency I had set my phone to silent and hadn't even looked at it all evening.

As we pulled away a call came in but I couldn't take it, then I noticed 46 messages on a WhatsApp group. I quickly scrolled through and in amongst the usual banter there was mention of an Amur Falcon somewhere in Cornwall. AMUR FALCON!!! My mind went into a scramble. What time could I be there? Was there anything I needed to reschedule? Should I take Sue home first? What was the bird doing? When was it last seen?

The race home was tortuous on twisty fenland roads which I didn't know. I had managed to confirm that the bird was at Porthgwarra, at the far south-western tip of Cornwall and that it had been observed for a couple of hours before flying off, hopefully to roost somewhere locally.

Before I continue, a word or two about Amur Falcon.

Amur Falcon breeds in East Asia and migrates in large flocks through India to South East Africa. So for one to turn up here is quite a feat of poor navigation. But it's not unheard of. They have occurred several times in North-west Europe and there was an infamous one in Yorkshire for 32 days in 2008. Yes, that's right, 32 DAYS. It was a first for Britain, yet no twitcher knowingly saw it. For throughout its stay it was identified as a Red-footed Falcon (of which Amur Falcon used to be considered the Eastern race) and few birders made the detour to see it, even when we all passed very close on our way back from a Brown Shrike at Flamborough which was a tick for many birders. A couple of days after it was last reported it was reidentified from photos. There was a large crowd of twitchers, me included, stood around the next day rueing the missed opportunity.

So you see now why last Thursday night I was in a bit of a frenzy.

I dropped Sue at home, made a few quick preparations and jumped back in the car. It was 23:40 and I was keen to eat into the 380 mile drive before tiredness set in. It would be getting light from about 4.30 in the morning and people would already be out looking for the bird before I could even arrive.
The drive down to Cornwall was thankfully clear of incident. I had to stop for a power nap at one point - I set my alarm for 16 minutes time and was out like a light. Next thing I knew the alarm went off, I tilted the seat back up and turned on the engine. It's amazing how such a little amount of deep sleep can refresh you.

At just gone 5am the sun was rising as I passed The Hayle Estuary. There were just a few miles to go until Penance but I just had to stop and take a picture. Here's why.



By half past five the sky was light and I was completing the last short stretch of the journey along the steep-banked, twisty lanes of the tip of Cornwall. I took the turn to Porthgwarra - the falcon had been along this stretch of road last night. Every available parking space was taken up, but there was not a birder in sight. I had no news so presumed people must have spread out across the valley to search. Falcons can take a while to wake up in the morning, especially those which specialise in a diet of flying insects, but I was beginning to wonder if the long drive had been a speculative effort too far.

I turned around by Polgigga quarry and headed back into the village to park up safely and responsibly. It was only a few hundred yards to walk back. I threw a few provisions into my bag in preparation for a long day away from the car or any shops and marched back along the road.


As I approached the turn to Porthgwarra, through a gap in the hedge I saw a hoard of birders suddenly appear along the lane and plant their tripods down right by the quarry where I had just turned the car around. I quickened my pace as it was obvious they were on the bird. It crossed my mind that the bird must be somewhere close to where I had parked my car, for I imagined that views would be distant across the field.
But as I arrived there was the bird sat totally unconcerned at the edge of an elder bush right by the small quarry, no more than 30 yards from the assembled crowd of onlookers. Well, that was easier than I thought.

Looking tired and dishevelled,

I looked through my scope and there it was

I honestly thought I'd never see an Amur Falcon in this country.

And relax.

The bird was facing away from us and the air was still misty. Its feathers looked tatty and it was struggling to keep its eyes open. It looked tired and dishevelled, not unlike myself!

It didn't take long before somebody worked out that there was a better view from the field on the other side. Over the next hour the Amur Falcon slowly dried off and woke up. The long line of twitchers were joined by a herd of cows as the farmer drove his tractor into the field and dropped off their silage breakfast. Farmers are a funny breed. A hundred or more strange people in your field and you just get on with your normal early morning routine as if nothing was any different!

I was surprised to see Number 32 hadn't made it the night before.

As the light improved and we approached slightly closer, the bird started preening and looking much more alert. It dropped down lower in the bush and then, again, deeper into the bush.

At this point I decided to try to crack the journey home. I would have loved to stay in Cornwall and spend the day birding, but I had arrangements for later in the day back in The Fens. Of course, I would have stayed all day had the falcon not shown, but there was no need to let people down if I didn't need to.

I needed another 15 minute power nap at a services on the way back, but I pulled back onto the smallholding before 4pm, 16 hours, 760 miles and one very special Amur Falcon under the belt.

Bemused locals awake to strange scenes

Weekend plans ambushed by Red-winged Blackbird

Hooray!
It's a long bank holiday weekend. Midweek rain means that I can finally get on with planting the Maincrop potatoes and sowing vegetable seeds.
I spent Friday evening rotavating the beds and was up for an early start on Saturday. This weekend should see me catch up with all my jobs. The vegetable beds are starting to fill up outside and the polytunnel is full of seedlings waiting to be planted out when we are safe from frost and chilly weather.

Midnight, Saturday.
I pick up four other birders in a car park just outside Carlisle. It's taken me four hours to drive here and there are only seven hours to go.

You may have spotted a slight gap in the timeline here and just maybe a little change of plans for the weekend.
For just as I was burying the seed potatoes early afternoon, news came through of a RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD on North Ronaldsay, the northernmost of the Orkney Isles.

There has never been a wild Red-winged Blackbird in this country, or even on this side of the Atlantic. To be honest, I didn't even know what it looked like, never having been to North America.

The original tweeted image from the finder

So the plan was:
Drive overnight to Gill's Bay (just left of John O'Groats).
Catch the Sunday morning ferry over to Orkney.
Fly from Orkney Mainland over to North Ronaldsay (last 5 seats secured on the scheduled flight at 5 in the evening, but efforts being made to secure a special charter flight to get us across quicker)
See the bird.
Stay overnight in North Ronaldsay Bird Observatory.
Fly off North Ronaldsay 8 o'clock Monday morning.
Get the 11.30am boat back to mainland Scotland (second on the standby list. If not, the 4.30 later in the afternoon.
Drive back 600 miles, via Carlisle.
Arrive home about midnight Monday, hopefully.

So that's the Bank Holiday taken care of!

The never ending Average Speed cameras through Scotland did their best to bore me to sleep through the night and by Inverness I was starting to regret the early start on Saturday morning. I had driven for nine hours straight so was relieved to get a couple of hours sleep while Dan drove the last couple of hours into the hinterland.

This was to be my sixth visit to The Orkney Isles and the boat across the Pentland Firth is only a one hour hop from the Northern tip of Scotland. There were several car loads of birders doing the same thing as us, all the usual faces who turn up at such events.
We were the fourth car off the ferry. We had managed to secure a charter plane from Kirkwall airport but we had enough time spare to stop off and admire a stunning summer-plumaged White-billed Diver, only my fourth ever of this species and definitely the smartest. It was barely 10m offshore.

From there it was on to the airport and straight through onto the Loganair plane, a sturdy Islander aircraft which had us in the air and flying over the assorted low lying islands that comprise the Orkney archipelago.

We came in  for a smooth landing about midday and were met by the Observatory staff ready to take us to the bird in their Land Rover.

I went in the open back and was quickly reminded that some of the Orkney Isles make The Fens feel like a sheltered valley. There was most certainly a chilly easterly breeze.
A few minutes later we were dropped by a farmhouse where there was already a small gathering of birders who had taken the quicker but more expensive route flying from down south.
The bird was still present and was feeding in a distant iris bed. It was never viewable while it did this.

As each new group of birders arrived, one of the observatory staff would gently work through the iris bed and the bird would fly high into the air before heading over to a derelict outhouse, often choosing to land on or behind a squadron of orange-red gas cylinders. Initial views were brief but sufficient to establish its identity (I had by now seen images and had a chance to do some research).

The red gas bottles, so attractive to the Red-winged Blackbird

The bird quickly hopped down behind the gas cylinders where it was totally hidden from view. After about five minutes it flew up over the building and into a small iris bed behind a wall, again out of view. Another ten minutes and it then flew up onto wires before heading back to its favourite iris bed.
Somehow the bird managed to look a lot bigger in flight than it did when perched.


We then had a longish wait until the next plane load of birders came in and the whole cycle was repeated. This way the Observatory staff managed to keep disturbance to the bird to an absolute minimum but everybody who had made the long pilgrimage got to see it.

By late afternoon those who had flown from down south had headed back off in their small planes. We huddled in a garage opening taking shelter from the biting wind and were eventually rewarded with some more prolonged views.
I am no bird photographer, but did manage a record shot. Excuse the quality.

There was time for a little more birding on the island, which included inching our way along a lane past a very attentive bull and getting a shock as I accidentally flushed a greylag goose off its nest.

A typical Orkney beach, this one next to the observatory

I took advantage of a lift back to the observatory as the adventure was starting to catch up with me. I wandered around outside admiring the North Ronaldsay sheep with their incredibly cute and fluffy lambs.

North Ronaldsay sheep and their lambs feed by the observatory building

The North Ron bird observatory is an incredibly welcoming place and we enjoyed a drink of Orkney Ale in the bar before our evening meal of... you've guessed it... North Ronaldsay mutton. Sue and I are spoilt for native breed hogget and mutton, but it was still a delicious and very welcome hot meal. Today's influx of birders made for a great evening in the observatory, but by 10pm I was fast asleep in my bunk. I didn't stir until someone's alarm woke me up at 7am. We had an hour to wake up, pack, tuck into a hearty breakfast and get to the airfield.
Breakfast was delicious - proper bacon, proper sausages and lovely eggs - just like being back on the smallholding.
Check-in at North Ronaldsay airfield is not quite so stressful as other airports these days. We carried our bags out to the plane, climbed onto the plane and strapped in for the return journey.
There was time for a little exploration on Mainland Orkney, though news of a possible Ruby-crowned Kinglet on Cape Clear Island, off the south-west coast of Ireland, had us hastily considering a fairly major diversion to our route home. Unfortunately it came to nothing.

We managed to squeeze onto the late morning ferry and were soon speeding back towards England. The bank holiday traffic was nowhere near as bad as expected. Twelve hours after disembarking the ferry I pulled up back on the farm.

1300 miles. 2 planes. 2 ferries. 1 first for Britain RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.
The twitching year is under way. Who knows where it will take me next.

While I was away, 4 turkeys were born but the pregnant ewe still refuses to give birth. Next weekend I will catch up with my planting... Or maybe not. You never know what might come up 😉

Valentine's Day Bloodbath

14th February 2017

Bloodbath!
The turkeys and the geese are getting fed up with each other and a fair few squabbles are breaking out. But nothing had prepared me for what I found on Tuesday morning, for the water in their drinks buckets was stained deep red/purple.
I quickly inspected all the birds, expecting to see at the very least a few bloody feathers, but I couldn't see anything untoward. I even counted the ducks, in case one of them had incurred the wrath of the turkeys or the geese.


It was then that I remembered. Yesterday I had thrown in a few old beetroots for the geese to eat!

Later on in the day Sue confessed that she had found a dead duck in the stable the day before... which had turned out to be a beetroot.

With the car still being repaired, Sue kindly took me out to see some local birds today. Firstly it was back to the Great Grey Shrike at Deeping High Bank, just a short hop across the fens for us. Unfortunately it wasn't playing ball this frosty morning, but we did discover a nice circular walk we could do with the dogs which takes in a long stretch along the river. Today it held flocks of tufted ducks, wigeon, teal and a few cormorants and goosanders too.

So it was another short drive across the fens to Willow Tree Fen, an excellent newly created reserve which Boris has already visited once to see a Red-footed Falcon.

Today's bird was a bluethroat which had been showing incredibly well along the main path. Bluethroats are typically a coastal migrant in Spring and Autumn, so quite what this bird is doing here at the back end of winter is anybody's guess.

The car park at Willow Tree Fen would typically be lucky to hold more than a couple of cars, but today was a quite different story. It seems there are more retired birdwatchers in the area than I had realised.

Boris and Arthur were very well behaved. In fact they were considerably quieter than some of the photographers who were hogging the front row and who had scattered the path with mealworms to attract the bird closer to their cameras. Their fieldcraft is sadly lacking.

I just enjoyed the bird. It showed so well that Sue was able to watch it through the telescope too, though disappointingly Arthur is showing very little interest in birdwatching whatsoever. After a while I remembered that I should be able to hold the phone up to the telescope and manage some sort of picture. I didn't try too hard, but managed a few record shots. All the sharp ones were when the bird was facing away, but I'm sure you'd rather see why it is called a Bluethroat.

It was good to meet a couple of my more eccentric friends there too.

When we got home I spent the rest of the day in the kitchen. I am still determined to spend more time turning the food I grow into tasty meals. Today's was to be a marathon cooking session to culminate with a lovely Valentine's meal with my wife. Just perfect.

The main course was to be slow-roast shoulder of hogget in merguez spices and with almost 7 hours cooking time I needed to get it started.
Then it was on to mixing and kneading one of my favourite loaves, a Pan Gallego full of sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds and millet. A totally different sort of bread was a Sage Soda Bread, made without yeast.
To go with the bread I knocked up one of my favourite soups, Butternut and Peanut Butter (courtesy of Hugh F-W) as well as a Cream of Artichoke Soup. I am not sure I will like the latter, but it would be a good way of using up some of the Jerusalem Artichokes which grow so easily in the garden.

Finally, one of the treats of being grown up and cooking for yourself is that you can pick your favourite childhood recipes and improve them. A bread and butter pudding had every conceivable luxurious ingredient added. It turned out absolutely delicious.

And that was that. A very enjoyable Valentine's Day with a bit of everything I love.

Masked Wagtail - A Friendly Little Chap

Saturday 10th December 2016
A week and a half ago a Masked Wagtail turned up in South West Wales. This is a remarkable record of a subspecies of White Wagtail which is only found way over in Asia.
Normally I would be straight in the car when a first for Britain turns up, especially a showy good looker such as this. But from a pure listing point of view this bird counts as a zero! It is not judged by most listing authorities to be a species in its own right, just as our own Pied Wagtail is just another subspecies of White Wagtail.
Whilst a number on a list is not the be all and end all, it did mean that I assigned this bird a little less urgency. I even chose a Dusky Thrush (already on the list) over it last Monday. Another reason for my lackadaisical approach is that it would seem to be strongly holding a winter territory, giving grief to the local wagtail population and even doling it out to a robin, usually the toughest dude in the neighbourhood.

So it was that this bird had to wait till its second weekend to meet me. I left at midnight on Friday night, meeting up with Peter on the way. I hadn't met Peter before but he has a long and very distinguished career in birding. It was his birthday today, 81! I hope that at the age of 81 I am as mentally and physically agile as Peter. He stayed awake for much of the journey and kept me entertained and engrossed with stories of his life and of how the early birding scene developed in this country.
With a stop for a sleep an hour short of site, we still arrived an hour or so before first light and grabbed a bit more shut-eye.

At 8 o'clock it was light enough to get out of the car and start exploring the area. It quickly turned out that I had parked in exactly the right place, for after fifteen seconds of intense searching a wagtail flew over our heads calling strongly and landed in the middle of the road. A couple of minutes later it was performing right in front of us, feeding in the leaf litter by the side of the road. I won't bother to describe all its plumage. You can see from the photos which Peter has kindly sent me.

The bird often walked straight up to us and was totally unconcerned by our presence. Only passing cars caused it to fly off. It seemed to be following a routine, maybe a set feeding circuit, as it periodically disappeared for up to 20 minutes before returning.

One good thing about being so late to go and see this bird was that we had it pretty much to ourselves for much of the time. When we eventually left after a couple of hours the number of birders to visit that morning had only just reached double figures.
This was another twitch where the locals seemed very chatty and happy to see us. That's two in a row. If we're not careful, twitchers will be getting a good reputation!