NORFOLK - June 18th-21st 2002.

by Colin Butters.

Highlights of a short trip. 

I intended to go away for a few days and set off towards Scotland but changed my mind and spent three  nights in Norfolk instead!  On Tuesday afternoon, I arrived on the north Norfolk coast and decided to look for the Surf Scoter which had been reported around the Titchwell area for a few days.  When I got out of the car, I put my bins up to look at a bird in one of the trees and was immediately pestered by a tiny spider complete with a single filament web.  The little creature annoyed me intensely and appeared to stay with me as I walked towards the beach.  At one time, I had cause to take my hat off and I discovered about a dozen of the little beasts, camped out on my hat!  They were everywhere, climbing up the scope legs, abseiling from my bins, tickling my ears.  All was too much.  I later learnt that a couple, in the B&B that I was using, had to abandon a picnic on the beach at Holkham the next day because of them.  Having fought off the arachnids, I arrived at the boardwalk.  I carefully scanned the sea but no sign of any scoters, but in the distance near Thornham Point, I scoped some birders, themselves scoping the sea.  That must be where it was. I set off on the long walk.  I was overtaken by a constant stream of Little Terns and Sandwich Terns flying parallel with the beach.  Eventually after stopping several time to scan the sea and brush off the spiders, I found the scoter raft.  Now came the difficult part.  After fifteen minutes or so, I found the Surf Scoter and then promptly lost it.  It appeared not to come back up after disappearing in a trough.  It was sleeping and preening and depending over which shoulder its head was, it either looked like a Coot when the white neck patch was facing forward and turned slightly to the beach or, with the beak completely covered by being buried in the feathers and the white patch showing out to sea, it was just about indistinguishable from the many Common Scoters present.  Eventually, it woke up and I had splendid views. I then trudged back and down the path through Titchwell Reserve, still fending off spiders.  A Little Tern gave a really close display of hovering and fishing over one of the lagoons and then it was on to Wells and the B&B and some dinner.

Wednesday and my aim for the morning was to go to the new raptor watch point at Great Ryburgh.  I had some difficulty in finding the place as it appeared not to be signposted other than on the gatepost at the field car park.  I asked for directions in the village and although they were correct, the locals seemed to have no sense of distance.  'Around the corner just past the church', means go around the corner and continue for over a mile when the church is about 100 metres away!  I asked again when I spotted a little old lady in her cottage garden in the middle of nowhere.  Her directions turned out to be spot on but I only found that out later since I could not understand a word of what she said. Her local Norfolk  accent was too much for me.  (Apologies to native Norfolk readers).  So, I parked up and walked up the field to the watchpoint proper.  One or two Hobbies were instantly visible over the lake which itself is hidden from view in the valley.  A Grey Heron appeared and soared to some height. and after an hour of waiting, a Honey Buzzard rose out of the valley and soared away from the area and eventually disappeared.  An excellent sight.  Just as I was about to leave, I heard a Turtle Dove start purring and upon investigation, I managed to eyeball it as it sat on the branches of an enormous dead tree. 

Cley in the afternoon was fairly quiet but Black-tailed Godwits and Avocets with young at various ages were in view from the information centre.  I moved on to Salthouse where the Little and Sandwich Terns were patrolling the beach and a Ringed Plover was there with chicks inland of the shingle bank.  Amazingly, no spiders.  Perhaps my Ford Fiesta had outrun them? 

Thursday morning and I decided to give Titchwell a thorough look but first I did a recce on the hillside inland from the reserve around the big shed known as Choseley Drying Barns.  There are large fields here with lots of reports of Quail.  My intention was to get the lye of the land and return in the late evening but I need not have bothered.  At ten o'clock in the morning Quail were calling from almost every field and with several sets of wires being some the most prominent perches there, birds were constantly landing on them.  It was not long before I heard Yellowhammer and Corn Bunting and was able to see them both very well.  The latter, together with Grey Partridge are a little bit thin on the ground in Gloucestershire but here there were plenty of both. 

Titchwell produced many species and, yes, the spiders were still there.  Bearded Tit and, Spotted Redshank in breeding plumage were easy to find.  Several  Little Gulls  were by the Parrinder Hide and  two of them had their jet black hoods.  Other waders included Ruff, some godwits and the inevitable sprinkling of Avocets.  These really are a fine bird  as is 'Sammy' the Black-winged Stilt who arrived in the afternoon and wandered about, feeding not far from the path and with the scope, every feather could be viewed.  I have to say that he looked a bit scruffy around the white neck but I suppose that it is moulting time but those 'knitting pin' legs are really amazing.

Friday and time to return home.  I motored south and looked in at Weeting Heath to get the standard look at the Stone Curlews and sure enough, they were there and at least one pair had a chick present.  I failed to find any Woodlark but I moved on fairly quickly as I wanted to try to find the Golden Orioles at Lakenheath.  I had much better luck in finding the car park than at Great Ryburgh and set off on the walk along the river bank and committed hay fever suicide by brushing through the tall grass which lined the walk.  I thought that I heard a short call from one of these birds while I was hacking through the jungly bits and sure enough, when I arrived opposite the plantations, several calls came my way and patience prevailed with a short view, high up in the black poplars.

Thus ended my intended trip to Scotland with 103 species in the log and when I got home late on the Friday evening, there on the dashboard of the car was one of my  travelling companions, a little spider from Titchwell.  'Splat' went my hand.  Before I get any letters, NO, it didn't really. The little chap or chapesse is probably holed up somewhere in the innards of the car waiting for another trip to Norfolk.  I am also, but I am not holed up in the car!