This morning I filed my tax return, then celebrated getting out from under this tedious obligation by choosing and buying a Christmas panettone from Sous Chef. After which, basking in the glow of not one but two jobs well done, I was looking around to see what else I could cross off my to-do-list, when a bird alert pinged into my phone: two Red-necked Grebes had been reported at Farmoor half an hour previously. Reported, in this case, probably means that someone phoned someone else and said they’d seen these birds, and while the person they told didn’t really believe it, they thought they should alert BirdGuides anyway. This is a long way short of ideal, and even as I looked at the listing, I knew it was unlikely, but….
“Do I go, or do I stay?” I asked R. “It’s Farmoor, after all, so it’s probably rubbish.” “You have to go anyway,” he replied. “Because if you don’t, and it turns out to be true, you’ll be furious.”
He was absolutely right, of course. So I went.
As soon as I arrived in the car park I checked for a confirmatory sighting, but none had been posted, which pretty much told me all I needed to know – but I got my gear and headed for the reservoir anyway. As I reached the entrance, a couple of about my age were leaving, he wearing much better binoculars than mine, so I approached them and said, “Can you tell me, please: are those Red-necked Grebes real or mythical?” They laughed and said that they certainly hadn’t spotted any, and they thought someone had probably got themselves a bit over-excited about a couple of winter-plumage Great Crested Grebes. We rolled our eyes about the over-excited reporting that happens not infrequently at this site, but they said that nonetheless they hoped I’d have more luck than they had in tracking down the Red-necked Grebes.
I think the fact that I’m posting a Common Sandpiper here will tell you just how well my own search went, but having started with the lowest possible expectations I’m surprisingly sanguine about the result. By the time I encountered this little wader it was after 4pm and a heavy dusk was falling, so I was pleased just to have spotted it, and even happier to have immediately and correctly identified it. I find waders almost as tricky as gulls, but in this case the size, the teetering gait, the greenish legs and the white spur at the junction of breast and wing tripped enough synapses in my brain for a result to drop into place. “Well, hello!” I said. “You are a Common Sandpiper, and I claim my £5!” The bird was so unimpressed by this (or maybe just unwilling to pay) that it promptly took off and flew twenty metres along the reservoir edge, but after a brief game of Grandmother’s footsteps I managed to sneak a few shots that I thought might be just about in focus. Then I tipped my metaphorical hat to it, and left it to carry on feeding in peace.
R: L2, C1, D7.
