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| Sue, Boris and Arthur on the rocks at Eoligarry, Barra, just a few weeks ago |
That translates as American Redstart, a much wanted waif which last appeared in Britain over thirty years ago. I might not be able to wait for the next one!!!
A couple of phone calls and I had a place in a car and a seat on the morning ferry from the Isle of Skye to Lochmaddy on North Uist. By 1pm on Friday I should be boarding a second ferry across to Barra where the American Redstart would hopefully still be flitting around in the sycamores behind the church at Eoligarry.
I informed Sue of the situation. She was as ever remarkably stoical about it considering that we had friends visiting for the weekend and a 70th birthday party to attend where Sue's band, The Sugar Beats, were the main attraction. I hurriedly threw together a few provisions and headed off across country to meet up.
One of my front lights was not working so it was a good job that on this occasion we were not taking my car the whole way. Next problem - the Sat Nav on the phone stopped working - no mobile internet. I headed in what I thought was the right direction, sure that the phone would come back into signal soon enough, but by the time I reached Peterborough it was still not working. It would not be beyond the realms of possibility that I had somehow unknowingly changed the phone's settings.
When Dan phoned to find out my ETA I frustratedly told him that I had no idea and I didn't really know which route to take to head cross country. Anyhow, I found my way across with a few stops to consult the roadmap (an old fashioned navigational gizmo which I still keep in the back of the car). The drive up was uneventful and by midnight we had a full carload and were heading rapidly up the M6 toward Scotland.
We reached the ferry terminal in the early morning light with plenty of time to spare. Two other carloads of twitchers were already there and by the time we boarded there were a few more carloads of obsessive personalities.
The ferry crossing was smooth and the obligatory Calmac breakfast delicious as ever. Off the ferry and it was Wacky Races down the island to connect with the boat to Barra. One fell by the wayside, hazards flashing (they did recover enough to get the ferry) and we lost first place in the carnage that followed. We later regained the lead with a nifty bit of trickery which had the car ahead turning off onto a pier to nowhere, but that's another story.
By now we knew that the bird was still there this morning. We had made it to the ferry and everybody was in high spirits. It was lovely to be back on the islands, my favourite twitching destination.
A short drive the other end and we pulled up by the church, where the finder @barrabirder showed us which trees the bird was in.
Even at this final hurdle it is still possible for something to go horribly wrong, but fortunately the tense wait did not last long as the bird appeared flitting and flycatching in the lower branches of the sycamores.
I have seen American Redstarts before in South America but this one meant much more, just by reason of its incredible journey across the Atlantic and its subsequent arrival on these shores. The last one I could reasonably have seen was when I was 17 years old and I hadn't even heard of twitching then.
For the next couple of hours about 40 of us just admired the bird, tracking it as it moved rapidly here and there through the small clump of sycamores.
It showed best when it frequented the lowest branches which hung down close to the ground. American Redstarts have a strange habit of flicking their whole body side to side so their yellow-indented tail seems to magically swap sides in a flash.
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| The reason for our mission. The first American Redstart in Britain for quite some years |
Mid afternoon we headed off to explore other areas of the island, returning late afternoon when rain and the return ferry had dwindled the numbers down to about ten. This meant we could move closer to where the bird was feeding and we all enjoyed our best views of the bird as it fed in the evening light.
We left the bird in peace to go and secure some accommodation for the night, a static caravan which more than met our needs for the night. A hearty meal of chowder, haddock and a huge sticky toffee pudding was washed down with a couple of celebratory beers.
The night was squally and we were up early for the boat off the island across to Oban. The crossing was five hours but beautifully calm. In between eating, seawatching and chatting to other birders the time flew past. Bird of the day was a couple of basking sharks which were feeding in the shallows as we approached Oban through some absolutely glorious scenery.
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Looking back on Barra.
Hopefully not too long before we are back.
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During the eight hour drive back we heard that a small plane carrying three birders to the bird had crashed in a field alongside the M62, just a short distance from where it had taken off. Luckily all in the plane had survived with just a few broken bones and minor wounds. You might expect the odd tricky take-off or landing on one of the small islands we often visit, but goodness knows what happened to cause this so soon after the take off from Salford City Airport. Fortunately it was not one of the planes or pilots who we occasionally use when no other viable alternative exists to reach some far-flung outpost of the British Isles.
Just after dark, 48 hours after leaving, I pulled back onto the farm. An excited greeting from the dogs and a run down in the dark to shut the chickens away and I was straight back out just in time to show my face at the 70th birthday party and to see Sue singing with her band.
Mission accomplished. 😊
My 520th species in Britain. Here's to the next one.
