After our abject failure to break the record for the number of bird species seen in Oxfordshire within a 24 hour period last year, we felt compelled to try again this year. A change in personnel was required as, incredibly, Andy Last accepted an invitation to spend the weekend away with two young women, rather than spend 24 hours birding with two middle-aged men. Into Andy’s place, stepped the mighty Badger, aka Jason Coppock, Lord of the Oxon Birding website, joining Dave Lowe and myself. Having called ourselves “The Acronaughts” last year, this year we could claim to be Jason and the Acronaughts. What could possibly go wrong?
We moved the date from late April to early May and actually spent a little time planning and researching. Our research also confirmed that the record (see here and scroll down) set in 2000 by Jon Uren, Pete Roby, Dave Dunford and Simon O’Sullivan totalled 114 species, but included an American Wigeon at Dorchester that was later deemed an escape. So, 113 was the record, still a very high bar. Also like last year we had competition. This was our first mistake. Our opposition were “The Probables”: Ewan Urquhart, Mark Merritt and Tom Wickens. Few people spend more time in the field than Mark and Tom. Combined with Ewan’s grit they presented a formidable challenge. The usual rules applied: a bird species had to be seen or heard by 3 team members in Oxfordshire to count; no tape recording of birds could be used to attract them.
History dictates that an early start is required. Some teams have started at midnight to maximise every minute, others have started in the very early hours. But no matter how we did the maths, we were not sure that this would pay dividends, as only a small number of species are available in the dark. We felt we could probably record these before dawn or in the evening. This was our second mistake. Our Big Day began at 4am on Saturday 5th May when Dave and Badger arrived at my house in Headington to a loudly singing Song Thrush. Species #1, we were off! We travelled to Otmoor in the dark and began counting the night singers: Grasshopper Warbler, a booming Bittern and a background cacophony of a thousand Sedge Warblers. The moon shone down, it was clear and dry, it felt good. We were at the second screen by 04:45 when one of our target species here, a Barn Owl, appeared in front of Badger’s face, before gliding away:
As light began to creep in, we were recording new species constantly: a calling Curlew; Black-headed and Lesser Black-backed Gulls passed overhead. We walked down to the first screen, where we got our first indication that the weather was not going to be on our side. This was not simply a light covering of early morning mist, thick fog seemed to be building up. In no time at all visibility was reduced to less than 100 meters. We had not planned for this and the fog was not in the weather forecast that we saw last night. Much of birding is about identifying species on call, but things were getting ridiculous. Even the bushes on the bridleway were invisible in front of us: 
We could not scan Big Otmoor for waders, we could not see anything at Noke. We had no choice but to listen hard and wait for the sun to burn off the fog. In a touching and supportive manner, I hoped that this fog was county-wide and was devastating our opposition’s birding too. I was wrong. 
Half an hour of poor visibility became an hour, which dragged out to two hours. The disc of the sun was often visible through the fog, but did not appear to be making any inroads into the mist. The frustration was intense. Badger pulled out a Wheatear, sitting on top of the barn at Noke, a Kingfisher called, not an easy species to record in May.
We were now up against it and up against it so early in the day. At about 8am, after about two and a half hours of white-out conditions, the fog suddenly, dramatically, lifted. And with it so did every migrant bird in Oxfordshire. The skies were crystal clear, the sun was hot. It was a perfect day to continue your migration north, away from Oxfordshire, away from us, away from our Big Day: 
When the sun comes out on Otmoor, so do the snakes. When you’ve been standing alone in the fog for nearly three hours on your Big Day, who do you really not want to meet? The current holders of the Oxon Big Day record perhaps? “Morning Pete, morning Oz!“. Actually, it is always fun to bump into the the Robeys and Oz. They asked about all the tricky species, most of which we had not seen, which depressed us. They gave us tips as to where we might see some of them, though we did note most of these locations were miles away, on the periphery of the reserve. Funny that. Pete’s parting words were “good luck for 112!” – one short of their record. But they didn’t look too worried: 
A Grass Snake sunbathing near the bridle-way.
A Big Day is more of a marathon than a sprint. We knew there would be lows and that we would have to push through them to reach the highs. We work our way back along the bridle-way, also bumping into Pete Barker leading a large group on his regular Saturday morning Otmoor birding walk. There then followed a nice little burst of useful species. A Raven flew over calling, not a guaranteed species on Otmoor:
I wandered down the bridleway to confirm a singing Garden Warbler, the last of the 10 common warbler species that we still needed. Glancing out across Greenaways I saw a Little Egret flying in. My phone rang – it was Dave, further down the track alerting me to the Little Egret. Having already seen it, I test his resourcefulness by feigning poor phone reception. Not much throws Dave on a Big Day, but the way he began miming “Little Egret” on the public bridleway, surprised even me. So, it’s a little bird, about knee height?
…with a long bill?
It was a worthy performance. I gave him 30 seconds and called back to confirm I’d seen the bird. What the passing member of the public on the right thought about Dave’s Little Egret impression is obvious from his face (above). We saw a Great Spotted Woodpecker near the feeders, now we only really needed Turtle Dove. We bumped into Mark Chivers on the Bridleway who helpfully pointed out the crippling views of Turtle Dove he had just had as he photographed it, moments before it flew away and before we got there:
We gritted our teeth and did another circuit. We were discussing plans, when a gentle purring call crept into the back of my consciousness “Turtle Dove singing!” I called. It was on the list. Last year we left Otmoor with a poor 67 species. This year we left Otmoor with exactly our target number of species, 80. In one sense we were ahead. But thanks to the fog, we were hours later leaving than we had planned.
As we leave Otmoor we get a text from the Pete Roby: the Great White Egret that had been frequenting the peripheral areas of Otmoor had been found on floods to the north. But all species are equal on a Big Day and even though Great White Egret would be a county tick for me (I have never quite summoned up the energy to travel to see one in the county) I take the hit for the team. We have a more important species in mind: Collared Dove. We drive through the Otmoor villages and into Oxford, scanning roadside wires and rooftops, but without luck.
Our next port of call was Port Meadow, hopefully for some waders. But due to our fog-induced lateness, it was now lunchtime on a hot bank holiday weekend and the car park at The Perch was heaving. We could barely park. The meadow was even worse, filled with people enjoying themselves in normal ways: sailing, rowing, drinking, kissing. Fools! If only they had got up at 3am and stood in the fog for three hours before failing to see Collared Dove, then they would know real pleasure.
We arrived at the Thames and took in the above view. You can just make out a thin dark line of animals running across the meadow, away from the crowds…
…and straight into the floods. The level of disturbance was staggering! No-one was more surprised than us when we managed to locate a Ringed Plover and a Shelduck, hiding from the herds. A Pink-footed Goose had been present for three days on Port Meadow. The timing of its arrival and the fact that it had chosen to associate with a feral goose flock were not great for its claim to be a wild bird. In fact, I had muttered that I had bought free-range chicken from Tesco that had better credentials. In one sense, the best thing Pinky could do was disappear immediately, hanging around for weeks would only weaken its case. However, it would have been nice if it had held on for another few hours, just so we could see it. It didn’t. We left The Perch and immediately got stuck behind a cart pulled by two shire horses. They crawled along at less than walking pace. We had no choice but to crawl after them. Never has Binsey Lane seemed so long. I tried to keep things positive by leaning out of the window and blowing into my cupped hands to impersonate the call of Collared Dove. How those long, hot afternoon hours flew by.
Farmoor Reservoir. It was now 1 o’clock and baking hot. We planned to be here by mid-morning to catch up with Swift, hirundines and perhaps some waders. I can honestly say that I have never seen Farmoor so quiet. There was not a single bird in flight above the water. There were no waders and no gulls. This was catastrophic. Even worse, we learn that our opposition saw a fly-over Osprey at the time we were originally panning to be at the reservoir. Ian Lewington was taking groups around for an open day for the Oxford Ornithological Society. Ian helpfully asked what we needed. Our reply included Common Sandpiper, Swift, hirundines, Great Black-backed Gull and Mistle Thrush. But none were present. We held a quick council of war and decided to radically alter our itinerary and would return to Farmoor at dusk. Furthermore, Badger had gleaned some useful knowledge of a private site for a scarce local breeding species, which we were given permission to visit.
The site was not too distant. We quickly found the area where some nest boxes had been put up, there were lines of feeders up too. Surely this would be straightforward? The sun here was as intense as I have ever experienced in an Early May Bank Holiday, indeed it was record-breakingly hot. We waited, wilted and applied sun lotion. 40 minutes later we have only heard the calls of chicks from inside the nest boxes – not really countable on a Big Day. House Sparrows called and flitted about, Reed Buntings and Yellowhammers visited the feeders. Where were the adults?! This was a new low and morale sunk, not least as we knew that the opposition had recorded the target species at this site. Eventually we dragged ourselves away, empty handed.
Dave Doherty called with news of an Osprey at Blenheim, we’re tempted but it is not in view and would burn up a lot of time. We continue towards Dix Pit. A Mistle Thrush on a front lawn in Sutton secured a species that can be tricky in early May: 
Dix produced Red-crested Pochard, but more frustration too. Firstly, a distinct lack of the usually omnipresent Egyptian Geese and secondly, by more news from the opposition. They have just found an Avocet at Rushey Common. Last year we were beaten by a team who had a flyover Osprey at Farmoor and who found a good wader at Rushy. The sound of history repeating itself was deafening. Twitching a bird found by the opposition, how low could we go? Real low. We drive to Rushy Common. Dave finds the Avocet (below), I find a couple of Little Ringed Plovers, but it is massively hard work to produce new species.
We head for the Chilterns. A ban was placed on saying out loud “I can’t believe we haven’t seen a Collared Dove!” because one of us was repeating this mantra at any single moment in time and it was the constant thought running through all our minds. I close my windows at home in Headington to keep out the sound of calling Collared Doves. Now, when we most need to find one, we are unable to, for love nor money.
I am in the back of the car as we pass through Nettlebed. A pale grey shape huddled on top of a wooden utility pole makes me scream out loud, “Collared Dove!”. Badger twists around in the front seat violently enough to require my services as an osteopath for quite some time to come. Dave throws the car onto the opposite side of the road and mounts the pavements of Nettlebed. His door bursts open, pushing passing pedestrians out of the way. Lifting his binoculars up he screams “Got it!” as we look at one of Europe’s commonest breeding birds, one of an estimated one million breeding pairs in the UK. What have we become?
It was hard to escape the conclusion that this was not going to be our day. In the Chilterns the woods were silent, it was too hot and we were too late. We do pick up some woodland species, including Goldcrest and Coal Tit, but can’t materialise a Marsh Tit, Treecreeper or a Jay. Having left Otmoor on 80 species, the next 4 long, hot hours in the afternoon only produce another 9 species. Game over. We see Ring-necked Parakeet in Henley and then drive up onto the downs. Here there are Grey Partridge, Corn Bunting and Little Owl: 
We hit species number 100 at around 6:30pm. Or so we thought. As we headed back to Farmoor for dusk, I added up the totals again and discovered that we were only on 99 species. Three more rounds of adding up produced the same answer, 99 species. Personally, this was my lowest part of the day. In Oxon Big Day terms, seeing 100 species is barely competent. Beating last year’s target of 104 was our minimum target, I hoped we that would get somewhere between 105 and 110 species, any more would be weather-related luck. As it was, we approached our final site still in double figures. Our only hope was that there were several common species that we still had not connected with.
We arrived at Farmoor at 7:20pm, we had about 90 minutes light left and were still not on 100. We scanned the sky, where were the Swifts? There were none. Yellow Wagtail was our real number 100 species for the day, quickly followed by an uplifting mini-rush of new species: Great Black-backed Gull and an adult Yellow-legged Gull on a buoy.
Dave then notes a Kestrel sitting on a nestbox. It had been a long sweltering day, with much frustration. Our dreams lay scattered around our feet like broken diamonds. Unfortunately, my ‘scope had got soaked the day before whilst I was out scouting sites and due to the heat, condensation was now forming in the eyepiece. I found myself unable to locate the building the nestbox was on, let alone the bird in the nestbox, due to my scope misting up. “Where is this KestreI?” I ask, unable to conceal my frustration.
Dave: Listen to the panic in his voice”! The nestbox is on the very large building, right in front of us.
Me: Don’t you patronise me!
Dave: I think you’ll find it’s pronounced “patronised”
Me: WHERE’S THE F*****G KESTREL?!
I give up and use his scope, Kestrel, species number 103. Despite the central vision in my scope being completely misted up with condensation, I am pleased to pick out a distant Common Sandpiper on the north bank of F1 only using the peripheral edges of my viewfinder: species number 104 which equals our target of last year. Suddenly we all feel much more buoyant, even though darkness is coming.
We now need a bolt from the blue. Step up Mr Terry Sherlock! He calls and tells Badger that the Great White Egret is now on the Closes at Otmoor and is visible from the Otmoor carpark. Could we? We could! We speed-march down the causeway and drive over to Otmoor, as the sun sets and dusk closes it. We pull into the carpark and at 8:35pm rush over to the gate that looks over the Closes.
There in the gloom is a long, white snake-like neck and a long yellow-orange bill: Great White Egret, species number 105, which takes us past our total of last year. I enjoyed watching the bird feed, for perhaps 9 seconds. Then we head out to Big Otmoor to try to grab back a Teal. At 8:55pm, in near darkness, Badger shouts “Teal!” and we all get brief views of a drake, before the light goes completely. Species number 106. Can we go any higher? We try for two more species in the dark. The first is an act of sheer madness. We go to Hinksey Lake and try spotlighting an Egyptian Goose. We will never know what the local teenagers thought we were doing, but it was a miracle that we were not arrested. We saw no goose.
Our final act of desperation found us near Bagley Woods, listening for Tawny Owl. Dave and I had pair calling here just two nights ago. This evening, there was nothing. Nothing except our aural hallucinations. Being on high alert for bird calls and songs all day, combined with fatigue, led us all to independently experience a weird phenomenon. We could hear birds singing. I had Sedge Warbler, Badger could hear Grasshopper Warbler. They weren’t there, but our brains were conjuring up birdsong, that intruded into our tired consciousness. At about 10pm we give up and finish our Oxon Big Day on 106 species, two more than last year, but about five less than we hoped for.
The next day we compare notes with The Probables. They recorded an impressive 111 species, also 2 more than they recorded last year and only 2 species short of equalling the record. They trialled an innovative strategy that did not involve starting at Otmoor and thus they also avoided the fog. With better weather, they could have easily threatened the record. Thank God it was hot and sunny!
With hindsight we started too late and we were unlucky with the early morning fog on Otmoor, which set us back for the rest of the day. Incredibly, neither team saw Treecreeper, Jay, Meadow Pipit or Swift, all species that should be expected in early May. The magic ingredient is one that we have no control over: the weather. A baking hot cloudless day is not conducive to migrants occurring in the county. We still wait for that perfect combination of planning, weather and luck. As with last year The Oxon Big Day was hugely enjoyable. Badger, Dave and I functioned well as a team, we all contributed species and all took turns to pick up morale when needed. Many thanks also to all those mentioned above who helped us out and to anyone else that I may have neglected to mention.
Doing a Big Day reminds me that I prefer my birding to be calmer with less travel. A Big Day once a year is about as often as I would want to consider it. The camaraderie is great, as is visiting some of Oxfordshire’s best birding sites. Otmoor first thing is incredibly atmospheric, even more so if Bitterns are booming and a pre-dawn visit is something that I would recommend to anyone. Full marks to The Probables for turning the usual itinerary on its head and successfully seeking out some tricky species. There is already talk of another Big Day next year, with the Greylags, the current record holders, also expressing interest. Everyone acknowledges that, with a little luck, setting a new county record is achievable. Will next year be the year that we get that perfect combination of good weather and good planning? One thing is certain – we will be starting much earlier.
The Acronaughts (left to right):
Dave Lowe, Tom Bedford, Badger.
Oxon Big Day 2018 total: 106 species.
Position: last.
