World Birding – Out of the blue

Code Crimson: Wallcreeepers in the Swiss Alps

June 28, 2026June 30, 2026

I arrived at the Barrage de la Grand Dixence at 7:15am. The group of teenagers I was chaperoning had been up past 2am last night and would be asleep until mid-morning. It was time to try to find a Wallcreeper.

Barrage de la Grand Dixence

Wallcreeper is one of the best birds in the world, and for me, probably THE best. Only found on vertical cliffs in the highest mountains, this bird, in summer at least, is only seen surrounded by stunning mountain scenery. The bird itself is a delight. Superficially appearing grey and black, well camouflaged against a rock face, Wallcreepers flick open their wings as they move about their vertical habitat. The black wings have two large white spots on each primary, and each primary base and all the wing coverts are the colour of deepest crimson. The effect of this palette is sudden flashes of black, white and crimson, a stunning combination from this jaw-dropping jewel of the high mountains. But, as always with this species, first there was the task of getting into their high altitude breeding territory, and secondly, there was the challenge of actually finding one. Wallcreepers have large territories and are not straightforward to see.

The Barrage de la Grand Dixence is the world’s tallest dam, some 285m high, with the crest standing at 2,365m, high enough to give access to the birds of the high Alps. The easy way up is to take a cable car, but this does not start until 10am. There is also a winding access track that allows the authorities to drive vehicles up to the top of the dam; you can hike up this track anytime. Or, you can take the steep path, which runs pretty much directly up the side of the mountain, alongside the enormous dam wall, which holds back some 400 million cubic meters (approximately 10.6 billion gallons) of water. Best not to think about that. I took the steep path. It is a lung-busting climb, but it only takes about 20 minutes. The trees on the lower slopes held the ubiquitous Black Redstarts and singing Eurasian Blackcaps, Redpolls, Common Chiffchaffs, Common Linnets and a singing Lesser Whitethroat. I also noted a singing Dunnock. I was hoping that this would not be the only species of accentor recorded today.

Code Crimson

As the steep path flattened out it met the top of the access road, and I found myself just below the cable car top-station:

Top cable car station at the Barrage de la Grand Dixence

The view, back down to the car park and over the valley, was incredible. Even above my hyperventilation, I could hear a singing Alpine Accentor and a flash of white nearby drew my attention to a White-winged Snowfinch, feeding on the ground, it’s beak full with insects:

I did not consciously recall seeing a movement in my peripheral vision, but something made me look up, away from the Snowfinch. There were two grey and black triangles on the wall above me:

As I became aware of them, I simultaneously became aware of pulses of black, white and crimson as the birds moved. There were two Wallcreepers feeding on the concrete wall above me. Holy Jesus!

This was beyond my wildest dreams. I had found only one report of Wallcreeper at this site this month, though a pair had been regularly reported in previous breeding seasons, once even nesting in the wall of the hotel at the bottom of the dam. I was far from certain that I would see them today. Yet, here they were, almost immediately and at close range and in perfect light.

Moving slightly closer to the wall, I could see that the regular wing-flicking created some pretty funky shapes:

The Wallcreepers moved with short hops, somehow gaining traction on what appeared to be a near-flat, vertical wall. Occasionally, they took jumps to traverse the rock face. Below, both legs are visible as this Wallcreeper ran across the rockface, using its wings to help propel the movement:

One bird made a short flight by literally hopping from the rockface, its legs in the process of being retracted, leaving its rapidly shrinking shadow on the rock wall:

The French refer to Wallcreeper as the “butterfly bird” of the mountains. The rounded wings with black-and-white flight feathers are immediately reminiscent of Eurasian Hoopoe. But when seen in flight, and unlike Eurasian Hoopoes, Wallcreepers appear very short-tailed, creating a diagnostic flight image:

Without warning, one Wallcreeper left the wall and flew over my head and rapidly away, staying close to the cliffs to the north. The Birding Gods then looked down at me and granted me some fortune. The remaining Wallcreeper dropped down to the base of the wall, even closer to me and now at head height. It then began to work its way up the rock face, Treecreeper-style. This bird gave fabulous views, revealing the crimson at the base of the wings at close range, the soul of any Wallcreeper encounter.

Below: when stationary, the crimson primary bases and wing coverts create two bright bars of colour on the black closed wing:

As the wings flick open, the extent of the crimson primary bases becomes apparent. The double white wing spots on the outer four primaries flash. The effect is astonishing!

Having moved up the wall a short distance, the female Wallcreeper then took the same flight path as its mate, over my head and away to the north, rounding a corner of the cliff and flying out of sight. The whole encounter lasted a little over two minutes, but I was left reeling from the adrenaline of the experience. Realising that I had been incredibly lucky to come across two Wallcreepers at close range so quickly, I took the path that runs south along the west side of the reservoir to find some more birds.

Lac des Dix and the pathway running along the west shore of the reservoir.

Taking the path around the reservoir involved going through a number of tunnels. This was much easier on my return journey, by which time the tunnel lights had been turned on! On my outward walk, I passed through these tunnels in darkness.

Emerging from the tunnels, the landscape opened up into a beautiful panorama:

Alpine Marmots (above) were calling, and Water Pipit and Northern Wheatear were common:

**Water Pipit**. The abundant passerine of the high alpine meadows.

Alpine Accentors could be found on the scree slopes between the tunnels, some giving great views. This is one of my favourite species, as they are full of plumage features. Check out the well-marked undertail coverts; the rusty flanks; the all-black wing coverts, tipped with white; the black-and-white spotted throat; and the yellow base to the bill:

Above, White-winged Snowfinch. I had incredible views of this species and Alpine Accentor on the walkway on top of the dam.

Looking down on the Barrage de la Grand Dixence.

Returning to the dam, my last scan of the cliffs to the north revealed two short-tailed birds flapping their way up to a higher altitude. It was the Wallcreeper pair again! They were extremely distant, but as I watched, the female dropped down to feed on a cliff, whilst the black-throated male perched on a wire near the clifftops. This was a rather surreal way to end my Wallcreeper experience. Wallcreeper must be one of the least likely species to see perched on a wire somewhere. A morning never to be forgotten.

Wirecreeper!

Southern Oceans 7: prions and cetaceans

February 9, 2025February 9, 2025

Our final days on the MSC Musica are spent sailing north, towards South Africa, leaving the albatrosses and prions behind. Some 5 million pairs of Salvin’s Prion breed on Prince Edward Islands and Crozet, with 2,000 pairs of Fairy Prions breeding across both Prince Edward Islands. Prions were abundant in the waters around Marion, at times thousands per hour passed the ship:

Prion identification is notoriously difficult. Like the identification of wandering-type albatrosses, birds around known breeding islands are all assumed to be the species that breeds on that island. Away from the breeding islands, such a strategy breaks down. And like the great albatrosses, prions do range widely at sea, in the non-breeding seasons.

Pragmatically, we were told to assume that most prions we saw would be Salvin’s Prions, with smaller numbers of the dark-tailed, paler Fairy Prions present too. The challenge of prion identification is the huge variation between birds of apparently the same species. We thought that we may have photographed a strong candidate for the more uncommon Broad-billed Prion:

This bird has a large bill, a very steep forehead and a long wavy moustache, reaching back from the gape line to join the dark ear coverts.

Compared to the average Salvin’s Prions that we saw in great numbers, we thought that our bird stood out. Compare the head-shape, moustache and bill size to this typical Salvin’s Prion, for example:

But the expert consensus was that our bird had just too much blue on the bill. Ideally, Broad-billed Prions have all black bills, making our bird a large-billed, long-moustached Salvin’s Prion, depsite it’s very different appearance.

Cetaceans and seals

This presumed Subantarctic Fur Seal popped up near the ship as we left the waters near Marion. Despite facing extinction due to hunting by the whaling industry, both Antarctic and Subantarctic Fur Seals are recovering in numbers:

A large number of cetaceans were seen from the ship, but were usually distant. Overall, we tended to prioritise the passing birds. Whale blows were seen very regularly, on one occasion a Sei Whale was photographed close to the ship and a number of beaked whale species were identified. A fabulous black-and-white Hourglass Dolphin playing under the bow for a few seconds was a personal highlight.

As we travelled north, we passed over the Subtropical Convergence once more and, as if by magic, we were back into Great-winged Petrel territory, with few other seabirds, other than Tropical and Cory’s Shearwaters, being seen.

We docked in Durban early on 31st January, waking up to the hot, humid conditions of southern Africa. Birdlife South Africa arranged a group photograph of most of the birders on the top deck on the final afternoon:

It was heartening to hear that Flock to Marion Again had raised over $US250,000 for the Mouse-free Marion Project. To date, about a quarter of the US$30M required to complete the mouse eradication project on Marion Island has been raised, so there is still some way to go. Donations to save the fabulous seabirds of the Southern Oceans can be made here!

The eBird trip list of all the species recorded on Flock to Marion Again (plus a few around the hotel on the first morning) can be found here.

Southern Oceans 6: Pterodroma Tuesday

February 8, 2025February 9, 2025

We awoke off the west side of Marion Island, everyone up at 4am for another seabird spectacle. Dawn did not produce the huge numbers of feeding seabirds that we saw yesterday morning, but the quality of the birds was undeniable:

Everyone’s favourite mollymawk, the fabulous Grey-headed Albatross:

Pterodroma Tuesday

We had seen many Soft-plumaged Petrels as we approached Marion, even though this species always kept some distance from the ship. It was educational to see these Softies, as the South Africans call them, having seen the closely related Desertas and Zino’s Petrels off Madeira:

The challenge of identifying dark pterodroma petrels in these waters is compounded by the presence of the occasional dark morph Soft-plumaged Petrel. We saw half a dozen of these birds during our time around Marion, though they only make a tiny fraction of all Softies:

More than once these dak-morph birds were misidentified as Kerguelen Petrels, a rare local breeder, which we did not see. The announcement of a possible Kerguelen Petrel caused panic amongst the birders on the ship. Everyone on the ship’s opposite side would try to cross the ship to see if they could catch up with the passing bird in question. On a ship of this size, this was nearly impossible. If you didn’t choose your door carefully, you ended up running through a casino, bar or restaurant. Both pale and dark morph Softies are in this picture:

Picking out interesting petrels from the constant mass of flying prions around the islands was not easy. Andy did well to call this Blue Petrel as it passed down the side of the ship. The white tail tip is distinctive, and they have a slightly more dark-capped appearance than prions:

But there are enough similarities to prions to make picking one out from the prion swarm a good call:

Left, **Salvin’s Prion**; right, **Blue Petrel**

One of the highlights of the trip for many were the small number of White-headed Petrels that we saw in Marion waters. Ian called out the first bird, the white head and tail, contrasting with the near black underwing, make this a stunning pterodroma to see:

There was drama mid-morning, when a White-headed Petrel and two Grey Petrels, the only ones of the trip, were found together off the port bow:

By 11am, it was time to begin our two and a half-day journey back to port. The ship, having been cruising as slow as 13kph during our time around the islands, increased its speed back up to over 30kph and we turned towards Durban.

Next: the final instalment, prions and cetaceans.

Southern Oceans 5: Magical Marion, part 2

February 7, 2025February 9, 2025

Hours of Penguin pain

We were sailing down the south-east side of Marion Island at a distance of about 20km, when the shout of “penguin in the water!” began to be heard (although now I reflect back, where else would a penguin be?). Four species of penguin breed on the island, but getting good views of penguins in the sea is the opposite of visiting a breeding colony. As soon as the penguins saw the ship, they bounded away, like mini-dolphins, disappearing into the waves. Most of the time the penguins were underwater, and in the majority of cases only the finder would see the disappearing birds. They were simply too quick for other observers to see them before they disappeared underwater.

In the first two hours of daylight, I failed to see a single penguin, despite multiple birds being called from all around me. As the day wore on, I either got my eye in, or the penguins were more cooperative, as most of us managed to see something of the small flocks of penguins feeding in the sea around the islands.

Macaroni Penguins were by far the most common, with smaller numbers of the iconic King Penguin being seen. A real surprise occurred when a Gentoo Penguin popped up close to the ship, where Andy and I were standing on deck 7. Only about 1,500 pairs of Gentoo breed on the islands and they are inshore feeders, so this was an unexcepted treat. For context, there are 225,000 pairs of King Penguin and 270,000 pairs of Macaroni Penguin breeding on the Prince Edward Islands.

Petrel Pleasure

Another unexcepted surprise was a flypast by a Pintado Petrel. We were told that only four pairs breed on Marion Island, so this bird created some real excitement for the South African birders.

Storm petrels were near constant companions to the ship all day. Grey-backed Storm Petrels feed on larvae found on the patches of kelp that floated past. These tiny seabirds, with a wingspan of only 40cm, were the smallest birds that we saw on the trip:

I never tired of seeing Black-bellied Storm Petrels:

Another small bird that we encountered frequently was Common Diving Petrel. Just slightly larger than a Little Auk, these birds zipped along, just above the waves, often diving directly into the water. 10,000 pairs breed on the Prince Edward Islands, benefitting from the eradication of cats on the island, which was completed by 1991, but still at risk from the seabird-eating house mice that have exploded in numbers since the cat eradication.

What an incredible day around Marion Island: six species of albatross (Snowy, Sooty, Light-mantled, Indian Yellow-nosed, Black-browed and Grey-headed) and three species of penguin (King, Macaroni and Gentoo) made it a really special day.

Next: Pterodroma Tuesday!

Southern Oceans 4: Magical Marion, part 1

February 6, 2025February 9, 2025

Dawn on day four found us just to the east of Prince Edward Island. Today would be the main day that we would experience the seabirds of the southern oceans, with half a day planned around the west side of the islands for the following morning. The ship was very busy with birders from 4am. As the sky lightened, Andy and I went to the back of the ship and were greeted by incredible scenes. There were seabirds covering the entire sea.

Hundreds of albatrosses could be seen in a single 180-degree sweep. Both Northern and Southern Giant Petrels were everywhere, as were both Sooty and Light-mantled Sooty Albatrosses.

Five **Snowy Albatrosses**, an **Indian Yellow-nosed Albatross** (top right), together with **Giant Petrels** and **White-chinned Petrels**. There is even a tiny **Black-belled Storm Petrel** (wingspan 46cm) under the farthest right **Snowy Albatross** (wingspan up to 3.5 meters)!

The number of Snowy Albatrosses was astounding These huge birds drifted around, occasionally gathering in groups to fight over food sources:

An **Indian Yellow-nosed Albatross** and two **White-chinned Petrel**s fly past a feeding group of **Giant Petrels** and **Snowy Albatrosses**. Giant Petrel is more than suitable name. Unless you are floating next to a Snowy Albatross.

But it was not just the sheer number of birds that we could see, it was the quality of some of those views. These huge seabirds would float up to the rear of the ship and pass at eye level, giving astounding views:

A Black-browed Albatross became our seventh species of albatross on the trip and one of six species that we saw in this single day.

From the largest albatrosses to the smallest storm petrels, seabirds were around us all morning:

On the horizon, both Prince Edward and Marion Islands could be seen, the latter with snow coating the higher peaks, even in the middle of the austral summer. The highest point on Marion is Mascarin Peak at 1,230m high, South Africa’s only active volcano, which last erupted in 2004:

It was an incredible morning, one never to be forgotten, despite the sub-zero temperatures on deck all day. The sheer number of seabirds that we saw will remain long in the memory, as will the point-blank views of the albatrosses and giant petrels of the Southern Oceans.

Next: Magical Marion, part 2: Penguin Pain and Petrel Pleasure

Southern Oceans 3: “There’s no way that’s a f*****g Wanderer!”

February 5, 2025February 9, 2025

Having had one of the least productive birding days of our lives yesterday, we awoke on Sunday 26^th January for our third day on the ship. We were just over half way to Marion Island at dawn, but within twenty-four hours would be within 20km of the Prince Edward Islands, the closest that we would be allowed to approach. Overnight we had transitioned into much cooler waters. The air temperature had also dropped, fleeces and jackets replacing the t-shirts of yesterday. Immediately there were birds!

Our first Black-bellied Storm Petrels danced low over the water, and our first Soft-plumaged Petrels sheared past.

Chunky White-chinned Petrels rapidly replaced Great-winged Petrels as the default all-dark seabird accompanying the ship.

And finally there were albatrosses. Indian Yellow-nosed Albatross was the most frequent visitor, some being close enough to pick out the yellow stripe on top of the bill and the orange bill tip:

Fabulous all-dark Sooty Albatrosses began appearing too, though we would see many more of these birds over the next few days:

It was a special moment when our first great albatrosses of the Wandering Albatross complex appeared behind the ship. The local breeders on Marion Island are Snowy Albatrosses, Diomedea exulans. These birds are the largest Wandering-type albatrosses, with some birds having a 3.5m (11 foot) wingspan. A close pass by one of these enormous birds, felt more like being passed by a small fixed-wing aircraft:

Andy and I stood on deck 14, the top deck, watching a huge Wandering-type albatross performing gentle loops over the sea behind the boat. Suddenly and surprisingly, world famous seabird author Peter Harrison was standing next to us. He said “Check out the albatross following the ship, because from the photographs that I’ve seen I don’t think it’s a Wandering”.

We knew that the only other realistic option was that the bird was a Tristan Albatross and that Peter Harrison has devoted much time to distinguishing these two species in the field. According to Harrison’s own work (Seabirds: the new identification guide, 2021) only male Tristan Albatrosses of a certain age can be separated from Snowy Albatrosses. These birds have uniformly dark wings, especially the forewing, with distinct white elbow patches in the mid-wing. Ideally there is little black in the tail too. According to Harrison, no Snowy Albatross shows this exact pattern on the wing and tail and these birds can safely be identified as Tristan Albatrosses.

My first reaction, unvoiced, was that it seemed remarkable coincidence that as soon as we starting seeing great albatrosses, a candidate Tristan Albatross should appear. We walked to the back of the ship with Peter, where he saw and photographed the albatross. He then exclaimed, memorably, “Excuse my language, but there’s no way that’s a f*****g Wanderer!” Peter Harrison was adamant that this bird was a Tristan Albatross and he found pictures of stage 6 Tristan Albatrosses in an A4 folder that he carried that looked very similar.

Over the next few days, we became aware that not everyone was convinced that these birds might be seperable. Indeed, both Peter Ryan (article here) and Hadoram Shirihai appear to doubt that these two species can be reliably separated in the field. We saw candidate Tristan Albatrosses on a number days when we were around Marion Island:

Some of the South African guides expressed the view that bearing in mind the identification difficulties, it just seemed more likely that these birds were Snowy Albatrosses from the local breeding colony on Marion, rather than Tristan Albatrosses, all the way from Tristan da Cunha in the central south Atlantic. We decided to let the experts debate this one and moved on.

As the day wore on and we sailed further south into even cooler waters, we began seeing another bird in the Little Shearwater complex, Subantarctic Shearwaters. These birds were the cold-water compatriot of the Tropical Shearwaters that we were seeing yesterday. The demarcation between where different seabird species were found seemed very precise and yet was completely invisible to human senses.

It had been an incredible day, our first real experience of the seabirds of the Southern Oceans. Our concerns about viewing seabirds from a large ship had been alleviated. There was no seasickness, despite some windy days. Deck 7, and both the bow and the stern, provided excellent viewing. The atmosphere on board was convivial, there was plenty of space for nearly 2,000 birders to spread out, even though deck 7 could get busy in peak periods. We were ready for Marion.

Next: we arrive at Marion Island and nearly loose our minds.

Southern Oceans 2: “Good Morning Flockers!”

February 3, 2025February 17, 2025

Birdlife South Africa brand their pelagic trips as “Flocks”. First, they organised two trips into the deep waters off the southern coast of Africa, Flock to Sea (2013) and Flock to Sea Again (2017). Then in 2022 there was the original Flock to Marion and we were on Flock to Marion Again. There is even a club for those that have been on every Flock, the Four Flocks Sake club!

Each morning, there would be an announcement over the ship’s tannoy. In a thick South Africa accent, making sure that the pronunciation was just on the right side of obscenity, we would be greeted with the words “Good Morning Flockers!” This never failed to raise a smile and quickly became the standard greeting between Ian, Andy and myself.

Ian had come from Abu Dhabi, where he currently works, and had brought along Oscar Campbell (who recently co-authored the latest editon of the Birds of the Middle East), Andrew Ward and friends. It was also great to bump into Fabian Bindrich, a German birder, whom I last saw when I sat next to him for three successive afternoons in July 2019 on pelagic trips off the coast of Madeira. We have never met on land!

The rest of the 2,000 passengers were truly international. As expected, the majority were South African, but we were told that there were over 200 German birders and over 100 Swedes aboard. We also met many American and Dutch birders, but relatively few British. Ian may have been the only Australian on the ship.

Crossing The Tropical Desert

Today was our first full day at sea. The sun was hot, the sea and sky were blue. We were in warm tropical waters influenced by the Agulhas current, that brings warm water from the Indian Ocean sweeping down the east coast of Africa.

Despite all our enthusiasm and anticipation, over ten hours of seawatching produced only three bird species today: Great-winged Petrel were regular; first and last thing there were a few Cory’s Shearwaters and we saw a single Tropical Shearwater, one of the Little Shearwater complex:

Between 10am and 5pm, my eBird checklists show that we only recorded one species, Great-winged Petrel.

**Great-winged Petrel**. One of 63 seen during day two.

We struggled to think of a time when so many hours of birding had only resulted in one species of bird being recorded. We agreed that this was probably the quietest day of birding, in terms of hours put in and reward, that any of us had ever done! We went to bed rather deflated, but hoping for more tomorrow as we approached cooler waters.

Next: Peter Harrison explodes.

Southern Oceans 1: “We’re going to need a bigger boat”

February 2, 2025February 9, 2025

Marion Island is remote. One of the two Prince Edward Islands, Marion lies about half-way between South Africa and Antarctica. From Marion Island, it is just under 2000km north to the coast of South Africa and 2300km south to the coast of Antarctica. It is in the middle of the Southern Oceans and at 46 degrees south, is in the heart of the Roaring Forties.

These oceans are the wildest on the planet. Winds and waves circumnavigate the entire globe around Antarctica, unimpeded by major land masses. As such, some of the planet’s strongest winds and largest waves are recorded here. The winds blow consistently from the west, picking up speed as the latitude increases. In the Age of Sail, the winds at different latitudes became famous as the Roaring Forties, the Furious Fifties and the Screaming Sixties.

The constant westerly winds fuel the Antarctic Circumpolar Current (ACC), the world’s largest ocean current, which mixes warm waters descending south from the Atlantic, Indian, and Pacific oceans with northward cold water from Antarctica. The convergence of these waters (the Subtropical Convergence Zone or SCZ) brings food from deep within the oceans up to the surface. The SCZ marks the boundary of some of the best seabirding on the planet and this was our destination:

This combination of abundant food, and rare dry land for nesting, makes the Prince Edward Islands a focus for millions of breeding seabirds in the southern hemisphere summer. Visiting such a location is very difficult and landing on the islands is forbidden.

I read about the first “Flock to Marion” trip in 2022. It was an incredible concept, a cruise ship filled with birders, heading out from South Africa and sailing south to Marion Island. The trip provided a rare opportunity to visit this remote part of the globe and to see some of the incredible seabird species that can be found there. Flock to Marion also functioned as a fund-raising opportunity to help the Mouse-free Marion Project, which aimed to eradicate seabird-eating mice from the islands. It also sounded like a completely mad adventure.

Then, in the summer of 2024, it was announced that there would be another trip, to raise further funds. “Flock to Marion Again” was due to depart in late January 2025. This time, I knew I had to be on that ship.

I spread the news that Flock to Marion Again was planned for January 2025, and Andy Last (from Oxford), Ian Reid (from Abu Dhabi) and I booked our places. Beforehand we admitted that we all had a number of concerns. None of us had ever been on a cruise ship before and none of us ever thought that we would. What would birding from a huge cruise ship be like? Would we be so high up that the smaller prions and storm petrels would be invisible? There was also the matter of being in a confined space with nearly 2,000 other birders for seven days. Would this be heaven or would this be hell?

But at the forefront of my mind was seasickness. As someone who barely survived seasickness on the Scillonian III pelagic in 2001, I had given up hope of seeing the southern seabirds. How could I ever sail across the roughest oceans on the planet and survive on deck long enough to see any birds? There was only one solution, a big boat. Or in the immortal words of Chief Brody in Jaws: “We’re going to need a bigger boat!” In fact, a really big boat. Fortunately, Flock to Marion Again had booked the cruise ship MSC Musica:

Weighing in at 92,409 tonnes, I hoped that she would provide a stable base to ward off my seasickness, even in the Roaring Forties. The trip was superbly organised. Beforehand there were online seabird and cetacean identification sessions, hosted by local experts. During the cruise some 60 guides were positioned around the ship’s viewing stations, between 5am and 5pm, to help with seabird identification. A daily lecture schedule was planned, including talks on seabirds from renowned experts Peter Ryan, Peter Harrison and Hadoram Shirihai, as well as lectures on the Mouse-free Marion Project and the conservation work being carried out on the island.

Now committed to the trip, I decided to fully engage with the experience. I attended the online identification sessions, I bought the t-shirt and even went to a penguin fancy dress party, hosted in one of the bars, the evening before we arrived at Marion. A proportion of the cost of cruise automatically went towards the fund-raising efforts.

We boarded the ship in Durban Harbour in the afternoon of Friday 24^th January. Up close, the MSC Musica was enormous, towering over the dock infrastructure, a 15-storey high floating hotel. Our cabin was on deck 10, our balcony looking out over the port side. The lowest viewing deck for seeing seabirds was deck 7. Even here it still felt like we were a long, long way above the sea.

Durban harbour provided views of a hunting Peregrine, a flyover Osprey and 4 Pink-backed Pelicans thermalling above the ship. Feeding on the dockside grass were Cape Wagtails and Southern Grey-headed Sparrows. Flocks of Egyptian Geese flew around everywhere, perching on the towers and rooftops of the docks.

At 4:30pm we set sail, full of anticipation and excitement. Great Crested Terns flew past the ship and we saw our first Grey-hooded Gulls. We soon got up to our cruising speed of around 30kph. The ship turned south-east and began heading across the southern Indian Ocean, away from the African continent. An hour from the coast, our first pelagic species appeared, a distant Indian Yellow-nosed Albatross, followed by a Great-winged Petrel. Another hour produced another couple of Great-winged Petrels and 3 Cory’s Shearwater. The seabirds near the South African coast had not quite matched our expectations levels, but it was very early days.

Next: the toughest birding day of our lives in the Tropical Desert!

An Albatross for Christmas

December 13, 2024December 13, 2024

This year’s bird-themed Christmas cake celebrates albatrosses. Having failed once again to persuade my wife of my first choice of cake (an Ivory Gull on a freshly killed seal, think red, think white!), the cake this year is inspired by the Mouse-free Marion Project. Funds are being raised to eradicate introduced mice from Marion Island, which have developed a taste for seabird chicks, which they eat alive. This predation is seriously impacting the populations of the many albatross and petrel species that breed on this sub-Antarctic island.

The cake was made using a Nigel Slater recipe and the albatross skimming over the top of the cake was made from modelling clay and then painted with acrylics. The albatross is a Tristan Albatross, based on the bird on the front cover of the second edition of Peter Harrison’s “Seabirds”. This mature male plumage is one of the few that can be distinguished in the field from the more numerous Snowy Albatrosses, which breed on Marion Island. I’m no artist, but I think it is identifiable!

Happy Christmas to all and let’s all try to avoid being eaten alive by mice!

Falsterbo at 1%

September 12, 2024September 12, 2024

Warning: the wind is in the cheese sector

Google Translate version of the Falsterbo Bird Observatory blog from 9^th September 2024, Swedish to English:

“Finally, a change of weather! The last time has been a bit stressful. Day after day of sunny and very hot. The wind has been steadily blowing from the cheese sector. In the morning sometimes reasonably weak, but then usually increasing to become healthy towards lunchtime.From Nabben, the counters have recorded fewer than 1,000 birds for several days in a row. It’s probably some kind of record low. Unfortunately, we have several groups of foreign visitors here right now. They get the wrong impression, as there are very few birds to see”

The confusion between the Swedish word for east (öster) and cheese (ost) produces a splendid mistranslation here. But this apart, spare a thought for those poor Falsterbo bird counters. Barely 1,000 migrating birds a day, producing record low numbers of migrating birds when the wind is in the east/cheese. For those of us with inland local patches in the UK, where nowhere near 1,000 migrating birds a year are seen, these record-low numbers still seem incredibly high. Context is everything.

Wanting to experience bird migration with an eastern flavour and on a greater scale than that which we usually see in the UK, Ben Sheldon and I arranged to visit Falsterbo Bird Observatory, at the very southern tip of Sweden. Ben knows Sweden well and despite denying that he is fluent in the language, he can happily chat away in Swedish, he knows all the bird names plus the slang name for Montagu’s/Pallid Harrier (Stängshök – a contraction of Stäpphök and Ängshök). Raptors are a particular attraction at Falsterbo. Last year Ben visited Falsterbo and saw fourteen species of raptor in a day, including all four species of Harrier within thirty minutes.

The week before saw a record-breaking 11,750 Tree Pipits recorded in a single day, with a nice backup cast of Citrine Wagtail, Ortolan Bunting and over 150 Honey Buzzards. We were not expecting those numbers to be repeated, but we hoped for some decent raptor and passerine migration. But then disaster: the wind turned to the east.

Easterly winds in September are high on the wish list of many birders in the UK, particularly those on the east coast. Migrating birds, on land and sea, are often pushed towards our shores from continental Europe, sometimes resulting in high counts or records of unusual birds. However, easterly winds do not bring joy to the birders at Falsterbo. What they want are light south-westerly winds. In these conditions, migration can be truly spectacular. Easterly winds hold up migration in southern Sweden, the stronger the wind, the more of a barrier it presents. Our first full day, Friday 6^th September, was a hot 28 degrees, with strongly gusting easterly winds. Bird migration effectively ground to a halt.

We stayed at Falsterbo Bird Observatory, which provides self-catering youth hostel-style accommodation:

From the Observatory it is a 25-minute walk, or a 5-minute drive, towards the end of the peninsular. The watchpoint of Nabben is the base for the official bird counters and a pre-dawn gathering place for visiting birders. The counters start before dawn and are allocated different species to count. Even before the sun rises, the dominant species of Western Yellow Wagtail and Tree Pipit pass overhead, calling constantly.

A Nabben watchpoint sunrise selfie (TB left, Ben, right).

There is a large pool with wide muddy margins opposite the Nabben watchpoint. This area attracts many waders:

Over the sea, a Caspian Gull flew north and two Black-throated Divers, in fine summer plumage, migrated south:

Standing and listening

Eurasian Sparrowhawk migration was immediately obvious, with a regular stream of low-flying birds heading south down the peninsular all weekend:

Falsterbo is famous for its pipit and wagtail migration and even on a quiet day the calls of Western Yellow Wagtail (presumably mostly thunbergii) and Tree Pipit are constant. This one was screaming to make itself heard above a passing aircraft:

We recorded nearly 150 Tree Pipits during our two-and-a-half days at Falsterbo. Whilst this would be a huge number by UK standards, by Falsterbo standards it was positively dead. Our 150 Tree Pipits were barely 1% of the 11,750 Tree Pipits recorded on the previous Tuesday: a 99% decrease in migrating Tree Pipit numbers! But even 1% of the peak Falsterbo migration is still greater than the number of birds recorded at most UK sites and it is always a joy to see and hear Tree Pipits:

We enjoyed birding next to the Lighthouse, at Falsterbo fyr. We spent several hours watching visible migration here and were joined by Liam Langley, his friend Vicktor and Richard Hall on Sunday morning.

The trees in the lighthouse garden provided shelter from the easterly wind, allowing us to hear flight calls more clearly. The trade-off was that this sheltered spot, filled with warm-blooded humans, provided the perfect feeding station for early morning biting insects. I had the novel experience of sustaining multiple mosquito bites through my long-sleeved shirt. Migration highlights here included a fly-by Wood Sandpiper, a few Western Marsh Harriers, an Osprey and a Red-necked Grebe over the sea, plus a Common Cuckoo, a Common Reed Bunting and the usual overhead stream of Western Yellow Wagtails and Tree Pipits.

Ben “*no liquid, except coffee, shall pass my lips in daylight hours*” Sheldon kept me well supplied with coffee. Here he pours out the holy liquid in the pre-dawn light, next to Falsterbo lighthouse.

Show me the honey!

Having spent the mornings watching and hearing gentle passerine migration, including 10 Common Crossbills over Kolabacken, we would then move the short distance to the large open heath at Skanörs Ljung. This is a well-known raptor watchpoint and we were joined by Ray Scally, who was also staying at the Observatory over the weekend. We spent a total of 7.5 hours here and eventually saw eleven species of raptor, but it was hard going. After standing for so long, we found ourselves throwing envious glances at those that had the foresight to bring portable chairs:

Finally, we saw some Honey Buzzard passage. Few sane adult Honey Buzzards were going anywhere in those winds. They were probably hunkered down in woodlands across southern Scandinavia digging out wasp nests, waiting for a nice south-westerly airflow. The few Honey Buzzards that we saw were all juveniles, with the vast majority being dark birds:

Dark juvenile **Honey Buzzards** over Skanörs Ljung

In some ways, this plumage most resembles Common Buzzard, although structurally they appear very different. This composite image from the weekend shows some typical Honey Buzzard shapes:

The long head and neck stand out, as do the long tail and bulging secondaries. We eventually had a close approach from this gorgeous pale juvenile Honey Buzzard:

Ben skilfully picked out a trio of Black Kites from one kettle of soaring raptors:

Other raptors we saw here included Osprey, Western Marsh Harrier, Hen Harrier, Eurasian Sparrowhawk, Red Kite, White-tailed Eagle, Common Buzzard and Common Kestrel.

Birding The Bridge

We also explored Lilla Hammars näs, just to the north of the Falsterbo peninsular. This headland holds a large waterbird roost at high tide. We parked at the end of the wonderfully named Kumliens väg…

… before walking out to the headland, where thousands of waders, a huge gathering of over 600 Mute Swans, plus various other waterbirds including 12 Great White Egrets were all seen.

Lilla Hammers näs provided good views towards the Øresund Bridge. This 15 km-long structure links Sweden to Denmark. It’s a pretty special drive over the bridge, especially when the road leaves the bridge and descends into a tunnel under the sea, via an artificial island. But it is not a cheap drive. The full price bridge toll is 673 Swedish Krona, or £50, each way. We finished the weekend in Denmark, birding a wetland site near the airport, shamelessly padding out our Danish lists on eBird.

**Western Marsh Harrier** and the Øresund Bridge

It is always something of a risk visiting a migration watchpoint, you are at the mercy of the winds and the weather. We were unlucky to visit Falsterbo during a period of strong easterly winds, which temporarily held up much bird migration. But the great thing about Falsterbo is that even when it is operating at only 1% of its potential, it is still a fabulous place to witness bird migration. Our next mission: to return in weather more conducive to bird migration to experience Falsterbo at something nearer 100%.

The eBird trip list for the weekend can be found here.