All the best intentions....

Here was the plan - to update the blog every week, keep it well up to date.

<Sigh>

Alas, just don't seem to get the time - mainly because we've been out so many evenings, looking for all the Spring migrants that have finally begun to arrive... So it's been your loss, and our gain!

Anyway, got home fairly early tonight, so out we went. Along a lane with grass fields on one side, and static caravans on the other, leading then to a path alongside some horse paddocks just back from the coast.

The walk brings the usual suspects; chaffinchs in the trees, robins in the hedgerow. Then comes a frustration. It's not unusual for us to be frustrated, I just record it so you're under no illusions; birdwatching means loads of frustrations! This one was a long, loud, and sustained bout of clicking from a half-dead peice of hedge, almost like a grasshopper, but far too loud for an insect, and lower in pitch. We'd heard the same two nights before just half a mile away. The most likely culprit is the aptly named Grasshopper Warbler.

We watch, we wait. The call stops, and doesn't restart. There's a hint of movement at the base of the hedge. A pair of dunnocks fly in and tease us, but nothing else appears. Time passes, and we eventually move on. Was it a Grasshopper Warbler? Probably. The sound is pretty distinctive, and possible alternatives are even rarer. One has been reported a few miles away. Yet we didn't see the bird itself; it remains elusive...

A few minutes later, a hundred yards or so further, and we are trested to the sight of Goldfinches and Willow Warblers flitting through the trees, quickly and unceasingly searching for food. Nice. Not unusual, but pleasing to see.

Another three or four hundred yards and we are beside the paddocks, and we hear a loud repeated 'huiit' call from the hedgerow ahead. We scan the leaves ahead, when suddenly there's a black shadow flitting down to the floor, and then from underneath the dark there is a flash of red; the underneath of this delightful little bird positively glows. A male Redstart in all his glory.

Minutes pass, and the light begins to fade. Gradually the Redstart moves further and further away, and we have to begin our journey home.

So there we are; In one journey Frustration and Delight. In many ways we are fortunate - as relative beginners we are seeing many birds for the first-time, and so we are still being reewarded by the 'buzz' of finding something new. Only last week we saw three new birds in one afternoon. This week has brought another two. For more-experienced watchers the ratio of frustration to reward is much higher, yet still they are out there, in weathers, often at strange hours, always hoping for a glimpse of something out of the ordinary. Addictive stuff, this birding....  And that's why we've been too busy to write !!