Swift, fairly swift and just a little swift...a day of two halves

I set off for New Brighton at 8 o'clock precisely as the bird had come up on the pager. It was definitely a risky business but worth a shot. I was sure there'd be plenty of eyes there. I drove swiftly and was there by 10.04, parked at Fort Perch Rock car park. I walked fairly swiftly along the promenade. Birders were scattered everywhere but a large group was about 400m away so I headed for them, with Tower Grounds Park on my right.

Slightly alarming but house martins were everywhere around us. How would I tell a mega swift from a house martin? There must be similarities. I began to worry that this was going to be a waste of time.  No-one seemed bothered. Standing around in groups chatting. Exchanging past reminiscences. Weather fine and dry by the way whatever the news said about the rain in the north-west, New Brighton had escaped it.

Suddenly someone shouted. People began to run up the grassy hill on the edge of Tower Grounds Park. Arms waving, gesticulating. 'Gone over the rooftops!' someone yelled. We headed slowly downhill, downcast.

Again a cry. 'Over the water!' Someone beside me began to speak firmly, confidently. 'Over the river. In front of the grey battleship.' Moving left. in front of the blue crane things!'

I had it in the bins. Nothing like a house martin. White rump flashing. Size hard to judge. Clearly swift.

'In front of the little yellow boat. Going right. Now back left. Left.'

By now everyone had it. Some in their scopes, others with their bins. I daren't transfer to my scope. Thought I'd lose it. Followed it for four or five minutes continuously until it climbed higher and became no longer a little swift but a little dot. I relaxed. Lifer 380.

I headed back to the  car. Now what? I didn't want to go back on the M62 as the weather over the tops had been nasty. Thought I'd call at Marshside RSPB. It was very quiet there. Black-headed gulls and shelduck. Tried Hesketh Out Marsh as I'd never been there. It was like October. Cold, bleak and blowing a gale. More shelduck and the tide was low but definitely somewhere to revisit. Go home, I told myself. Brockholes, thought I'd call there. When I got there the police turned me away. Closed due to flooding.

I was home for 4.30pm.

After unpacking and sorting myself out I was told there were stock doves in the garden. I've been trying for ages to photograph them but they are extremely cautious and react to the slightest noise or movement when the resident collared doves and woodpigs take no notice. From an upstairs bedroom and a 75 minute vigil I got some nice shots especially at the end when the remaining bird perched in the eucalyptus for me. So here's my little album of columba oenas...

Stock Dove Stock Dove Stock Dove Stock Dove Now for a bonus photo. My wife claimed that our collared doves had once perched on one of the wooden ducks in our garden. I found this a little hard to believe until today.

Collared Dove UK2012  238; Yorks still 114; Life 380. Target is now 20 away!