Three days to go

Weather websites have been perused. Pants have been ironed (actually I’ve still got a few more pairs to do). The entrails of a weasel have been consulted. And I’ve come up with the following detailed itinerary for the first few days of this year’s Shetland trip:

Saturday afternoon: drink lots of tea whilst looking out of Rob’s window and hoping that something gets blown across his garden in the force 8 south-easterly/north-westerly, depending on which forecast you believe. Comment frequently on how cold it is up here and how like last year the weather is. Possibly accompany Mark to the Toab shop to check on the pie situation. Early night after tedious day's travelling.

Sunday: eagerly head out into the field with ‘first full day of holiday’ enthusiasm, kidding ourselves that just because it’s blowing a north-westerly gale and snowing, it doesn’t mean there won’t be a good bird to be found somewhere. Repeat the mantra that ‘the biggie travels alone’, even though at that moment any biggie with any sense will be staying in a nice hotel in Norway (in a single room of course) rather than trying to battle its way across the North Sea. Give up fairly quickly, telling ourselves that there’s plenty of time yet. Evening: drink large amounts of whisky. Write bollocks on blog.

Monday (when it looks like the wind may briefly drop below gale force): encouraged by news of rarities on Fair Isle/Foula/Unst/Out Skerries, spend every second of the daylight hours combing every square inch of South Mainland for migrants. Walk miles; see nothing. More whisky. More bollocks on blog.

Tuesday: stay in bed sulking, regardless of the weather. Get up in a hurry when someone else finds something interesting in the Virkie Willows (or Rob’s garden). Stay out till dusk trying in vain to find something else. Whisky. Bollocks to blog.

Wednesday: drink whisky in bed. Delete blog.

Um - I don't think I'd better plan much further ahead than that at this stage.

OK, OK, don't start saying "well why bother going then?" Last year the weather looked really promising and I predicted I'd find a Siberian Accentor and look what happened...

They're getting closer!

With records in the last few days from West Midlands, Derbyshire and now Notts, Leicestershire's first Glossy Ibis must be imminent, but where will it be?

Most likely at Rutland Water, and I think there would be a nice symmetry to it if Matt Berriman were to find it...

...but then I've been awake since about 3 o'clock this morning, so I may just be losing it slightly.

Just some routine enquiries, Sir

Many thanks to [name withheld] for sending me the following photo, and to The Drunkbirder for his caption suggestion:

I'm sorry Sir, but if you're going to take that attitude I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the feeding station...

A Leicestershire Mega

Although twitching on a national scale does nothing at all for me, I am as manic as anyone when it comes to adding to my county list. So the news this morning of a Common Rosefinch trapped and ringed in Andy Smith’s Thornton garden had me displaying all the symptoms. A piece of shit in Shetland or Scilly maybe (although embarassingly it’s still not on my found list), but rosefinches are fucking rare inland. This was a first for Leicestershire, and not one that anyone ever really expected to see, least of all in a back garden in Thornton!

Due to various domestic chores (yet more pants to iron) I couldn’t get out for a couple of hours, but fortunately it was still present and showing on and off when I arrived at about 12:50. Scope views were excellent, but my photos are distinctly in the ‘world’s worst rarity photos’ league:

As expected, the ‘cream’ of Leicestershire’s spotters were there, but this visitor was a most unexpected addition to Andy’s garden list:

El Presidente helpfully points out to everyone that it's the bird on the left

Huge thanks are due to Andy Smith and his family for allowing everyone into their back garden to see this bird, and I hope NO-ONE left without putting a quid or two in the bucket...

Ironing my pants

With just nine days before I go to Shetland I’m in a frenzy of anticipation and preparation. There are pants to be ironed, medications to stock up on (how fucking hard should it be to get a new inhaler out of the fucking NHS? No, we can’t just give you another repeat prescription, you have to come in and waste both your time and the nurse’s going through the motions of having a ‘review’ even though she knows full well that your asthma is very mild and you don’t need an inhaler very often. Cutting costs? I could make some suggestions...) and of course weather websites to be checked every few seconds.

I wanted to put one of those countdown gadgets on the blog, so I could sit staring at the screen 24 hours a day and watch the seconds ticking down, but I couldn’t get it to work properly. A not uncommon problem, apparently. Sort it out, Blogger!

Meanwhile in Shetland Rob appears to be heading for a breakdown, with no end in sight to weeks of continuous westerlies. But there are birds there, even if he can’t find them. Nothing massively rare it’s true, but bits and pieces – Arctic Warblers, Citrine Wagtail, Woodchat Shrike, R-b Fly, Bluethroat, Barred Warbler, Rosefinch etc all in the last week. And all arrived on the aforementioned weeks of westerlies.

Marcus arrives on Saturday – he’ll find something whatever the weather’s doing. And that’s the one and only ‘prediction’ I'm going to make after last year’s monumental failures (see here, here and here). However, the infallible and omnipotent Law of Averages clearly states (subsection 43887, paragraph 4301, clause 7c) that since Marcus had a good trip last year and ours was crap, the tables will be turned this year. That’s not my prediction of course, it’s the Law of Averages. And that’s never wrong. Or is it? Surely the Law of Averages says that the Law of Averages will be wrong about 50% of the time? Bugger.

Weak

Somewhat predictably, my resolve not to go to Shetland this year lasted about as long as one of the Drunkbirder's resolutions to give up twitching. A combination of Sophie getting fed up with me being 'a bit grumpy' and the very kind offer of a lift to and from the airport from Mark and Jo was enough for me to crack and book flights last night.

So readers of this blog can look forward after all to another instalment of 'the Shetland Llama' from 3rd - 14th October. And even if it's a crap autumn that's got to be better for everyone than me getting cross about what I'm missing!

I shall have to live on bread and cheese for the rest of the year though, so it had better be good...

Pot of gold or crock of shite? Only time will tell...