Friday, 17 October 2014

Week round up, part I

Well, what a week. So far.
Let's begin with Sunday, although that's sort of last week. I was up and ready and 'waiting on news' before going out. Shameful, I know. A Radde's has been showing on and off at Flamboro. Okay. I'll go there then. I hate Radde's Warblers. Skulking liddle bastards. Why the flip do they sit deep in cover? Well? Apart from being warm? Oh, and safe from predators. And their probable chosen foodstuff is more numerous in darker, damper confines. So, APART from that, why do they not show themselves?  Bastards.
I arrived. There was a man. He was from York. He was called Alex. He told me he birds Whitby. He was hidden in a hedge. He was looking for the Radde's. I do not like long sentences. As I can't concentrate for long periods. I was here for a stake out. I was expecting maybe an hour and half which should be hyphenated. Alex, from York and Whitby, after one and a half minutes (which also should be FUCKING hyphenated) stated 'it's there, bottom left'. I turned a bit to the right as instructed and looked at a Radde's Warbler! Jesus holy Mary mother of god.
I then had a chat with Brett and counted some Pinkies going south. 82. A girl then arrived with a box of chips! This is an amazing day! She then left with Whitby Alex from York to eat chips together on Flamboro head. This is truly a breakthrough moment in birding.

Still, it was good talking to Alex and Brett. Brett is a proper good bloke.
Not that Whitby Alex from York isn't of course.
And thanks for calling the Radde's, it saved me one hour, twenty-eight minutes and thirty seconds from my predicted timescale. How's that for proper hyphenation?

Monday. Clag, shit, rain and norf easters meant only one thing : I'm about to get wet at Spurn. I got wet at spurn. I didn't see another birder til 11 o'clock and he was in a sensible hide! Right, where the fuck is everyone? 'Well the sea should be good today so they must be doing the sensible thing and sea watching from a nice, dry hide' I said to myself far too loudly which startled a goat-type animal nearby. He had been eating grass, I could tell.
What now? Well I did a bit of seawatching then succumbed to the thought of the bushes being all mine even though I was gonna get drenched. A Lesser White at Cliff farm and a possible Sibe Chiff in the church was all I could muster and fucked right off home before a couple of things were found late afternoon. At this point it was ME that was sat in a warm, dry house drinking cold lager flavoured drinks, HAHAHAHAHAHA, the laugh is on you now that you've all had a great seawatch, waited til the rain stopped, and gone out and found a Bluethroat and a few other goodies........oh, hang on.....

I will (might) tell you all about Tuesday and Wednesday tomorrow.

Jesus walks into a bar with his disciples and orders 13 glasses of water while winking at his mates.....


Monday, 22 September 2014

A Day in the Life

I read rare bird news today oh boy
About a lucky man who found a Shrike
And though the news it said Woodchat
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph
He put his shutter speed too low
He didn't notice that the light had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen this Shrike before
Nobody was really sure if this was a Woodchat at all!
I saw the film today oh boy
It showed the Shrike looking like a Masked,
A crowd of people turned up anyway 
And I just had to look
And consulted a book
I'd love to seeeeeeee thaaaaaaat Shriiiiiiiiike....

Jumped up, got out of bed
Dragged a sponge? across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up I noticed I was late
Found my scope and kicked a cat
Made the car in seconds flat
Found my way inside and had some coke
somebody spoke and I went into a dream

I read the news today oh boy
A third for Britain at Spurn Point, Yorkshire
And though the crowds were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many twitchers it takes to fill Hull City Hall
I'd love to turn you on

Lyrics by Q with a little help from my friends Paul, John, George, Richard Starkey. 
And Mr Sting. 


Saturday, 13 September 2014

Rio bastard Ferdinand rant

Is it just me that is sick to the fucking back teeth of Rio Ferdinand fucking exclusives in the papers? He's a cock. He's a fucking manc cock who has bigged  himself up throughout his shite career. His goal celebration tells you everything. Someone else scores. He runs the full length of the pitch, thus arriving on the scene later and jumps over the top of his stinking manc team mates and all the photos in the fucking press show that bastard splashed all over the back page. He looks like Plug out the Bash Street Kids. And he's on coke. There, I said it.

Rio Ferdinand exclusive: Man U let me go to QPR.
Rio Ferdinand exclusive: My story about Welbeck going to Arsenal.
Rio Ferdinand exclusive: I do a piss in the morning. 
Rio Ferdinand exclusive: Who gives two flying fucks about what I think exclusive.

I'll tell you what fucking Ferdinand, fuck off you fucking mancs bastard you fucking stinking twat. If you fancy your chances I'll meet you anywhere and give you a proper kicking you stinking mancs bastard. And he played for them stinking white bastards too! Fuck me, can you get any worse? He might as well go and play for Jihadi Beheading XI just to complete the set. 

There, I said it.
Excellent rant.

1 Curlew. 


Thursday, 11 September 2014


I've found a patch. Sort of. I was wasting time as the kids were asleep in the back of the car and Fats wasn't leaving work for another 20 minutes, the conundrum being : children asleep : 7-8 minutes from home : by the time I got home it's nearly time to leave to pick fats up : may even wake children in process of going in 'home' : ergo, pointless trip home, : ergo, may as well wait around here (here being St. Andrews Quay just off the A63 in Hull). Hang on, I have binocular aids with me. I'll have a quick scout round the bushes near Mr Chu's the chinese restaurant in which I saw Two Jags Prescott once which is a top celebrity story I think you'll agree. I 'birded' from the car and viewed only two bushes! These two bushes held 3 Willow, 2 Whitethroat, 2 Greeneth Fincheth and 2 Robins. Okay. And? Well it gave me enough in 7andahalfminutes to warrant a return next morneth with more time.

Next morneth, more time, although only halfanhour:
5 Willow
1 Chiff
6 Whitethroat
1 Reedeth Bunting
1 Lesser Whitethroat
1 Reed Warbler.

Now this isn't bad. The 'patch' is on the side of the Humber, I think liddle blighters fly south, see an expanse of water and ditch down for a bit. I actually had my phone in my hand after viewing the Reed W in a few short bursts. The first few times I saw it, it was in Elders, scurrying down branches and it looked short winged! The jizz and the habitat (there were a million rushes right next to the Elders it preferred) said 'not reed'. I honestly thought I had a Blyths even though I hadn't seen much of it, I had upto now an acro that wasn't behaving like a Reed and I was about to ring for backup and run through a few features. Then it showed well and sat on a rush and it appeared to be a Reed Warbler. The short wings now had a fairly standard 'long' primary projection, the supercil stopped at the tiny eyeball...... I am shit. But you know when something's not right? Well I just had that feeling.

In Henley I saw this sign:

What do you do if you only what a small rug?
Nicola called me stupid.
Maybe I am. Maybe I am when it comes to unstreaked acros anyway.

I will continue to check my little patch, especially as there's easterlies right now and clear weather.


Thursday, 28 August 2014


We're darn sarf. Henley to be precise, camping. It is porsh rarnd har. £4.40 for a pint of piss-flavoured Fosters?! Gordon Bennett! (James) Gordon Bennett (jr) was a newspaper magnate around the turn of the century. Did you know that? I aren't telling you anymore about him as it is a) uninteresting b) pointless and c) if I tell you lot you'll then know as much as me.
I ataken (atook) the children and Fats to Woburn to the safari park (that is) there. It's actually the first time I've seen tigers, alright not "tickable" tigers but tigers in the flesh all the same. Tigers are brilliant. FA cup finalists and in Europe? Ha.
That was a good joke.
The park held Black Bear, Giraffe, Lion and Zebra amongst others. There was a tiny deer at the side of the road which didn't look well as someone was attending to it. The guy turned 'round. It was Louis van Gaal!
"Fawn ill?" I asked.
He said "don't you fucking start......"
Hahahahahaha. Ha.
That was a good joke.

Right. This is a birding blog. Right? Supposedly centred roughly around Spurn. Right?
Well here's some bird bits. Right.
The campsite holds Red Kite, Willow, Chiff, Blackcap, Treecreeper, RN Parakeet, Green Wood, and an Egyptian Goose with one good arm. Pheasant, "Mallard" random ducks, one of which Ruby has befriended and has named it, rather preposterously, "Friendy", and several other more dull species than the ones I've already highlighted.
And now a Spurn bit. Just for you.
I went to Spurn last week, alas with children. They like it though. I managed a seawatch of some description and observed the following species in varying numbers:
Little Tern, Sandwich Tern, Common Tern, Your Tern, Right Tern, As Tern, Gannet, Common Scoter, Eider (5 north - important figures)....and other stuff as well. Med Gull betwixt Kilnsea and Easington, etc. What I did see though was a Grey Partridge with one young opposite Kilnsea Wets. Evidence of breeding! Successful breeding! I had a conundrum:
a) Do I report this? or
b) Is it lame to report this?
In the probability that it is in fact b) lame to report this, I sort of forgot to report this. Poor observatory skills. Again.
I atook the girls to see Alan's Little Owls. Alas, to no avail. I had promised them Owls, tiny Owls. Cute Owls. Tiny, cute, bald, baby, beautiful, bald, baby Owls yet I could not deliver. Poor parenting skills. They cried all the way home and through the night although that may be due to me downing 14 pints and singing "We're by far the greatest team...." at the top of my voice whilst stood on the dining table with only some ill-fitting socks as attire. EXCELLENT parenting skills!

A toast! Here's to holding them to only four......


Wednesday, 30 July 2014

Vivid piss death

Is blogging dead? No one seems to bother in the ornithological world of ornithology. Apart from a few obviously. And well done to them I say. I'll tell you what is dead though, the Willow Warbler population. Is it just me but has there been a massive decrease in numbers? Has anyone else noticed similar trend? Also Kestrels. I spend a lot of time travelling these days and on any given journey you used to see several hunting the roadside verges. Sometimes many. But now I'm lucky if I see one. Birds of prey are, generally, doing fantastically well and numbers are expanding at an alarming rate, Red Kite and Buzzard in particular. I do not know why Kestrels have slumped. Let's think about it.

Kestrels hunt by spotting the vivid piss of a vole as they can see through their eyeballs in ultraviolet mode, they then edge closer to the vivid piss and watch for movement, ultimately pouncing on the unfortunate vole whom met its death due to its own vivid piss. Has evolution acted so quickly that a vole can now disguise it's own vivid piss as to further its own chances at the big game that is survival? Selection of the fittest, natural selection, evolution in work, go figure.

As for Willow Warbler decline I can only guess that devolution has occurred and Mother Nature has lumped willow and the chiff complex back into the single species they obviously were some.....I'm guessing......50,000 years ago?

What am I talking about? Maybe blogging SHOULD be dead. Well, MY blogging anyway I hear you cry.

If this blog is dead I'll leave you with this I've recently found out:

After strangulation, which organ in a woman's body stays warm the longest?
My cock.



Friday, 4 April 2014

Bardon and the FA gub

Hiya.  I've been going to Barton just lately.  When we used to go as nippers it was a bit shit really but now the area has breeding things that you're not allowed to talk about, well not online in the public domain anyway.  Should I even say that?  Not sure.  I'll go back and delete it.  But then the post would just read like this:

Hiya.  I've been going to Barton just lately.  When we used to go as nippers it was a bit shit really.

The End.

*add random photo*
*add Manc insult*

*add dots*


Another rubbish post.  So I'll just leave it and ask you not to tell any egg collectors that you may know.  I know quite a few and tell them if I see something rare breeding as I'm sure they won't bother them.
Really though, it's a bit much when we can't talk openly about breeding stuff.


Jump Jet



Someone who warbles.

I saw a fucking Slavonian Grebe.  And a Long Tailed Duck.  Slav Grebe?  Schedule 1.  But I'm allowed to talk about shit like that. I've also been to Hornsea a couple of times lately.  Velvet Scoter, another Long Tailed Duck yet no Egyptian Geeses or Red Crested Pochard which had been reported.

Big game tomorrow in the race for 7th as Newcastle take on Man U at the Sports Direct Arena!
etc, etc.

FA Cup Semi Final next weekend.  And of course I'm biased but I'm also a very realist when it comes to gambling (my heart never rules my head when it comes to gambling) but Hull Tigers are 8/11 with several firms to beat Sheff U in 90 minutes.  That is a huge price.  Our strikers are cup tied (Long and Jelavic) and the pundits will pick up on this in the coming days.  Don't let that put you off.  Fryatt is a better finisher hands down than Jelavic, Long is a miss but Sagbo is far far better than Sheff U have faced this season, City should be backed at that price.

Get on.


Saturday, 29 March 2014

Spurn. 24th March

Went to Spurn again.  Not been too many times this year what with working away pet refurbing and installing portacabins.


Did 'BehindWhiteHorse' first as I often do.  Nil.  Nada.
Then Sammy's in the hope of a Wheatear or a Yellow Wag then I realised it was still only 24th March and thoughts of a Yellow Wag were probably somewhat frivolous.


characterized by lack of seriousness or sense when hoping for a Yellow Wag in March: frivolous conduct.
self-indulgently carefree; unconcerned about or lacking any serious purpose when thinking about Yellow fucking Wags in March.
(of a person or Yellow Wag) given to trifling or undue levity: a frivolous, empty-headed person or Yellow Wag.
of little or no weightworth, or importance; not worthy of serious notice especially of Yellow Wagtails in March: a frivolous suggestion of Yellow Wag.  In March.
1425–75; late Middle English  < Latin Motacilla flava worthless, trifling.

So there.  How interesting.
There were no Wheateaters or, somewhat unsurprisingly, Yellow Wagtails in the area.  I did however see a Meadow Pipit.

It's high tide.  I might go have a look on Beacon Ponds.  Alright, I will.  And I did.  The water level was ridiculously high and any chance of wader action was defunct.  Poor fieldcraft.  I picked up a calling Chiff along Beacon Lane before heading to Kilnsea Wets to see if any wader action was appertaining.  There was but not much.  Curlew, Redshank, and a Snipe.  Hmmm.  Ha, a White Wag with two Pied Wags!  Beautiful sub-species migrant action.  The Brents then started coming in to bathe, drink and piss.  I started counting them to relieve the boredom but some of them were walking: LEFT, some were walking: RIGHT and some were still but then decided to move LEFT and RIGHT.  Just keep still.  I got upto 118 when another load flew in.  Shit bags.  Starting again, I got to 176 when another load flew in.  Tits.  I did this 48 times until I got to a figure of 365.  They then shimmied off into the next field so I left and as I got to the car another c.120 Brent Gooses flew in to join the other 365 Brent Geeses.  So after obtaining a really accurate count I then had to guess at c.120 to add to the 365.  The accurate count that took about two months to complete was then downgraded to a circa 485 which is quite a good number really.

Now the grand finale.  The contents of this post have been quite mind numbing so far but this should lift your spirits:

A crane lifting a bordagabin.



Wednesday, 26 March 2014

TBC, PC as well. Not that you're bothered.

Crikey.  Whilst ranting about people who live in their homes I forgot to mention the Two Barred Crossbill that was found the day before the Yellow Rumper just over the bridge in yeller belly country at Forest Pines Golf Course.  I had, of course, been to have a look the previous day as the result of a message on Birdguides (other rare bird information websites are available):

Two Barred Crossbill           male in conifers to right of reception at Forest Pines          Lincs    

Okay.  Easy.  It never is in north lincs.  I'm not knocking them as there is some great birders over there but they must have a really intense rivalry as news is always sparse from this neck of the woods and usually wrong!  I even said to Fats before I went that I won't see anyone else, nor find the bird, nor find out anymore about it.

I arrived at the site, I didn't see anyone else, I didn't find the bird, nor did I find out anymore about it.
North Lincs news dissemination at it's best.  There was no one else there!  None of the staff knew anything about it.  Nor had they seen any geeks peering into an area.

The next day, I was en route home from Durham when a somewhat better message came through from Birdguides (other rare....etc):

Two Barred Crossbill           male still near 6th tee Forest Pines Golf Course          Lincs

Arrived.  Found 6th tee.  Four other birders looking.  Promising.  They hadn't seen it for a couple of hours.  The first bird I got on was the TBC.  "Hey, you lot" said I, "it's here".
Everyone patted me on the back and threw their arms around me and started chanting "Q Q Q Q Q Q Q Q Q Q Q Q" whilst holding me aloft in a mad crowd surfing celebration.

I also forgot to tell you that I went back to Budby Common and finally nailed the Parrot Crossbills!  "How could you possibly forget to tell us that, Q at Spurn?" I hear you yell, and you are right to yell.   How could I possibly forget to tell you that indeed!  Well, I'll tell you then.

I went back to Budby Common and finally nailed the Parrot Crossbills.
Fucking six of them.


Big game on Saturday now in the exciting race for the coveted 7th place in the Prem.  Saints vs Newcastle.  I just can't wait.  As a neutral it is the closest finish in years......

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.......


Tuesday, 25 March 2014


After idiocy came successful jaunts.  Green Winged Teal went storming onto the already massive year list at North Cave Wetlands with a Peregrine over as a padder.  Great.  Padder?  Then Great White Egret.  Then a close-in Black Throated Diver off Easington caravan park was a nice but not mega year tickage.  I also forgot to report this.  Poor observatory skills.  3rd March if anyone is remotely interested.

I was back working away and I had to be down in Bedford so I set off a bit early and cruised my way to Lowdham in....wait for it......Nottinghamshire.  There was meant to be a Glossy Ibis present.  In a field.  Then I saw a Glossy Ibis, in a field, and soon realised that there was, indeed, a Glossy Ibis present, in a field.  [The Glossy Ibis has fallen, Cleggy!].  Betwixt above tales, a Yellow Rumped Warbler turned up in Durham!  Well!  So I drove my new motor car north and saw a Yellow Rumped Warbler.  I'd just turned up when it showed immediately.  Tree.  A few twitchers were in the road, whenever a locals car approached, fellow nerds twitchers would call out "Car coming", "Car" or even "Hey car" to alert others.  Everyone would move from the carriageway.  Then, when we obtaining excellent views, a local woman screeched up, not giving anyone time to react and blow her horn very loud and very long.  She then started shouting from within her car.  I can only guess what she was shouting as I couldn't hear her but I'll bet by the look on her face that she was using words like sad cunt, my road, fucking nerds, get out of the way, and "fuckers".  She then pulled into her own personal drive.  The Yellow Rump had fucked off long ago.  She got out and someone said "thanks for that".
Someone else countered "It is her street, she's got every right"
To which I said "Don't talk shite"
As birders/twitchers we have responsibilities, true.  Don't upset the locals, don't trespass, don't block roads.  Fine.  We weren't.  At the end of the day there was around five hundred people there looking for one stray yankee doodle.  To half block a road for a split second isn't the end of the world.  Her reaction was over the top.  I think because twitching is viewed as a strange hobby and the partakers seen as socially inadequate, we do get a rough time, and it IS because of the nature of twitching and how we are viewed to the "public".
If the dustmen were in the road, maybe bad example, nay, some builders unloading some sand from their van would this lady have started shouting and blaring her horn?  No.  She would've just waited patiently, the builders would've finished what they were doing, moved their van, give the hag a polite wave, no harm done.  Even if there was some thieving pikey bastards (see Mr Lethbridge's latest entry over on Wanstead Birder - he's not happy!) "collecting" scrap metals and stealing tiny bald beautiful bouncing baby's perambulators, she would've stopped even for them!  She would not have ranted and blasted her horn!  The thieving gypsy pikey bastards would've simply loaded the tiny bald bouncing baby's pram onto their horse and clopped off down the street with a wave to the woman.  Birders?  Worse than pikeys.  Her reaction was disproportional.  It was!
"Fuck her" I said, to which some older gentleman reprimanded me.  I put him right that she should show some humanity even though we are sad, filthy, depraved twitcher-types with no sex lives.  What is wrong with waiting two seconds for us to move, then asking with interest as to what we were looking at?  Manners.  They don't cost anything etc Ps and Qs etc.

Rant over.
Padder:  Waxwing.

Manchester derby tonight and it's as exciting as it gets as the title race is wide open and should go to the wire.  Let's also spare a thought for the red third of Manchester and their terrific battle for 7th.  With Southampton playing Newcastle on Saturday, Man U could really put the pressure on them with a win tonight but, with only four homes games to go and having scored only 18 goals at home so far this season, I can't see it.  But let's hope they can snatch that 7th place otherwise Mr Moyes might get sacked and nobody wants that, he's doing a great job!

Just bought a new Man U lamp.  It looks great in the middle of the table.....

Man U are still determined to be in a big European tournament next season, even if they have to write the song themselves.....

What comes in a variety of colours and fits nicely on a cock?  A Man U shirt......

Just found out that my son is a secret wanker....and I've found the evidence under his bed....
...a Man U shirt...

That was a good joke....

 Yellow Rumped Warbler showing exactly why 
Yellow Rumped Warblers are actually called Yellow Rumped Warblers


Tuesday, 4 March 2014


My life is like a Country & Western song.  Only perhaps more woeful.  But let's not beat on about my woes.....actually I'm about to.  But not about my PROPER woes, I'm not one for all that in the public domain, just ornithological woes.  Indeed my ornithological idiocy, of which a blog is named (and is on my blog list on the left so read it you bastards) knows no bounds.  I am rubbish.

Idiocy 1:  Betwixt Yuletide and Hogmanay there is a strange period where people get fed up with ham, pickled onions and bastard pork pie.  As I was fed up with red cabbage (David Moyes? Ha, that was a good joke) I decided to go to Budby Common to look at some Parrot Crossbills.  Or not as it happens.  I tredged (?) along the various paths that had more liquid mud than anywhere I've ever seen apart from the top of beacon lane back in '85.  I was wearing:

shirt underneath
brand new Boss jeans,
brand spanking new Forest Hills.
Blue on white.
First time I'd ever worn them.
In pure liquid mud.

After trying to skirt every speck of mud, it took me around an hour to walk 5 yards.  At this point I'm dirty.  You can only get dirty once.  So I traipsed through, squirming at every drop of liquid mud splashing my clobber.
Good lord.  I walked around all day with my new best mate from Driffield and saw 0 of 14 parrot crossbills.  Bird of the day: Jay.  4 of them.  I hate Jays.  They look like homosexual magpies.

Wears pink.  Nice moustache.

And my sneakers were fucking fucked man.  One wear, one wash.  In the washing machine they go.  A washing machine is a machine that's designed to wash things.  When my nice-fitting brand spanking new Forest Hills came out of said washing machine they were not that nice fitting.  Ill-fitting I now feel.  Facking weasel Tits.  Olives?

Idiocy 2:  Idiocy 1 is perhaps excusable.  I was expecting nice clear paths through pine covered forest.  But to do it a second time is just, well, that's just thick as pigshit.  I went to Spurn and called in at Welwick saltmarsh en route.  Brand new Forest Hills, blue on white, and is that the same Welwick saltmarsh that was flooded only 10 days before creating slurry filled paths all the way from the car?  You know where this one is going.... Worn: twice.  Washed: twice.

Me.  Yesterday.

Idiocy 3:  Crossbill saga number 2.  Loads of Two-barred Crossbills have been knocking about Broomhead Res for about 87 months but me being the mental twitching type I haven't bothered.  Sorted.  M62, M18, M1, look at a map, take the A summat summat, nip between two reservoirs, easy I don't need to plan this route no way!  Not enough research one feels.  I'll find it anyway.

It's about an hour and fifteen minutes drive, Two and a half hours later I'm on a moor in a lay by not knowing where in the world I was and not enough diesel to get probably ten miles!  A Red Grouse looked at me as if it knew how stupid I am, and this is coming from a bird with the brain the size of a walnut.  An elderly couple were in the next lay-by and I pulled up in front.  I took my top off and started flashing my lights but it was no use.  They told me the way to Broomhead.

 "Is there a petrol station on the way?"
"Oooooh not rarnd these parts.  Thy nearest one is back onta main rooad.  We be ganning that way if thee'd like ta follow thy.  Thee thart twat".

I followed them for ten miles.  South.  As in AWAY from home and AWAY from Broomhead Res.  I ended up about thirty miles south of where I wanted to be, and I'd used enough diesel to get me to the moon.  I set off back towards Broomhead but had to rapidly detour home on the back of a phone call.  I won't say why, it's not for the public domain.  Some of you know.

Idiocy 4:  Everyone is going for this Smithy's Gull in bonny Scotland found by Dan Brown.  How come?  When a very possible one was found just over the bridge at Elsham (scene of the Thayer's Gull a couple of years back) I went the next day and found a MASSIVE crowd of.....erm.....2 other birders.  Eh?  This bird was photographed and the only clinching feature that wasn't seen was the tail pattern.  This looked good to me although I'm not exactly great on Gulls, but THREE birders the next morning?!  Disgraceful scenes.  I sat there for most of the day with a couple of odd looking things but no sign of the possible (probable).  Two days later I decided to have another go.  I set off in fog.  Over the bridge and into Lincs and it was foggy.  I got to the Elsham and it was foggy.  I pulled up to the viewing area and it was foggy.  Really foggy.  A single Black Headed Gull walked out into visible light just to mock methinks.  As for me, I, Terry Fuckwit, went back home.....


Next time, a bit more success on the birding front.

Night Princess.