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RUFOUS-TAILED ROBIN AT FLAMBOROUGH

Rufous-tailed Robin, South Landing Ravine, Flamborough Head (Mike Watson)

The fifth British Rufous-tailed Robin at Flamborough Head, was found on 20 October 2026, and stayed for an unbelievable eight days, just enough time for me to return from Australia and see it on its final day! This was most likely thanks to 2026 storms Austen and Boelo, which must have suppressed the urge to continue on its journey. On the day it was found I was watching birds like White-bellied Whipbird and Southern Scrub Robin and each day thereafter I could watch the progress of its sightings, and also the awful crowd ordeal its watchers put themselves through to catch a few seconds glimpse of it, standing on stepladders etc. [When stepladders become standard birding equipment that is a sign to go and do something else for fun].

Luckily it only took me and Rocket about one minute to see it on the morning of 27 October. [The first twitch for him in five years!!!] There were even people coming away from it at 0720 as we parked in the car park at the South Landing! Definitely belonging in the mythical Siberian vagrant category, it was first recorded in Britain on Fair Isle in 2004 (I saw one less than two months later in Vietnam!), with two of the three subsequent records on offshore islands. So, I didn’t really expect to see one here. Johnny Mac said ‘It is the bird everyone here has been dreaming of for 50 years’. So, that’s me currently on #499 for Britain (BOU, with only Western Reef Heron pending). I wonder what 500 will be.

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ETOSHA – THE GREAT WHITE PLACE

African Savanna Elephant, Onguma Private Wildlife Reserve (Mike Watson)

Etosha is a true bucket-list destination, particularly for anyone with an interest in African wildlife. Like many wildlife enthusiasts, I had wanted to visit for years. The images of that enormous, almost impossibly white salt pan had lodged themselves in my imagination long before I ever set foot there on my recent Wild Images tour.

The Etosha Pan covers around 4,800 square kilometres and is so vast that it can be seen from space. Staring into it is an extraordinary experience. The whiteness stretches away to the north into a bright, almost horizonless void, and it is strangely disorientating to watch an ostrich or giraffe walk towards it, apparently heading into nothing.

Etosha is also famous for its remarkable populations of large mammals. The most recent census figures I could find recorded 2,911 African Savannah Elephants, 1,280 Black Rhinos, 14,232 Burchell’s Zebras, 10,317 Springbok, 4,108 Southern Oryx, 4,207 Blue Wildebeest and 3,172 Angolan Giraffes. All of this wildlife occupies an area of almost 23,000 square kilometres; the size of Wales.

The predators, naturally, are rather less numerous. Despite plenty of searching, most of us managed only Lion and Black-backed Jackal, although Gin had a brief Cheetah sighting. We received little help from the rather secretive local guide network, who seem reluctant to share their discoveries. Perhaps that is no bad thing for the animals, given that almost 400,000 visitors now pass through Etosha each year.

But for us, the real magic of Etosha happened at its waterholes.

Blue Wildebeest approach cautiously at the Onkolo Hide (Mike Watson)

THE ONKOLO HIDE

There are countless waterholes in and around Etosha National Park, and we were extraordinarily fortunate to spend much of our time beside one of them, in what may be one of the best waterhole photography hides in Africa.

The Onguma Private Game Reserve sits just outside the national park, away from much of the visitor traffic. Sunk into the white earth beside a waterhole, the Onkolo Hide gives you a remarkably intimate, almost water-level view of the animals coming to drink.

Our encounters there easily surpassed almost everything else we experienced in Etosha. The only real contenders were the extraordinary lion encounter and perhaps the nocturnal rhino gatherings at Okakuejo.

What struck me immediately about Onkolo was that every session was different. There were no repeat performances. I am not sure we saw the same individual animal twice. Everything seemed to be passing through, stopping briefly for a drink before continuing on their way.

A fence separates Onguma from the national park, but elephants apparently have a habit of pushing it over. If you own a private game reserve next to a national park, I suppose there is little incentive to spend too much time repairing a hole in a fence that brings more wildlife to you.

One moment we were sitting quietly in the hide; the next, a shadow appeared in the corner of my eye.

I looked up.

An enormous bull elephant was towering over us.

We enjoyed several elephant visits, each one different from the last. After dusk, a pair of Black Rhinos; a mother and her well-grown calf appeared at the waterhole as the light faded.

The hide is renowned for its views of herbivores, and it certainly lived up to its reputation. Burchell’s Plains Zebras, Blue Wildebeest, Impala, Springbok, Warthogs and, particularly, the magnificent Southern Oryx and Kudu all came to drink. Even a diminutive Slender Mongoose made an appearance.

African Savanna Elephant (Mike Watson)

Black Rhino (Mike Watson)

(Burchell’s) Plains Zebra (Mike Watson)

Southern Oryx (Mike Watson)

The birdlife was also entertaining.

Hamerkops worked the shallows, catching tiny invertebrates and occasionally providing those wonderful “between-the-mandibles” photographic moments. A resident pair of Blacksmith Lapwings appeared with their scruffy youngster. There were Kori Bustards, Grey Go-away-birds, Namaqua, Painted and (a single) Burchell’s Sandgrouse, Crested Francolins and, seemingly, an unlimited supply of Helmeted Guineafowl.

Hamerkop (Mike Watson)

The bushes around the hide sheltered drinking passerines, including Blue Cordonbleus, Violet-eared and Common Waxbills and Crimson-breasted Shrikes. Out across the surrounding grassland we saw Angolan Giraffes and Northern Black and Red-crested Korhaans, particularly on our transfers to and from the hide.

After dark, a furtive Spotted Hyaena appeared.

And then there was the Milky Way.

One night we ventured out, and Gin gave us a masterclass in Milky Way photography. It was as spectacular as ever to look up at the night sky and then put binoculars to your eyes and discover just how many more stars are actually there.

There are perhaps 400 billion stars in our own galaxy, the densely-starred centre of which we are looking at.

It puts things into perspective.

We are rather insignificant.

Our stay at the Onguma tented camp itself was a tour highlight. It is a seriously luxurious place; somewhere I imagine Richard Branson would be happy to call home for a few nights. The chalet-like tents surround a delightful waterhole, while the dining area, lounge and open-air fire pit (or boma) provide an excellent place to relax after a day in the park.

Gin at Onguma Tented Camp (Mike Watson)

EASTERN ETOSHA

We spent time exploring the waterholes around Namutoni at the eastern end of the national park, but after Onkolo, the encounters inevitably felt somewhat anticlimactic.

There were Angolan Giraffes, Plains Zebras and elephants, along with a couple of particularly cute Damara Dik-diks. A group of Lions had taken up residence around the Klein Okevi waterhole, but they remained mostly out of sight during the heat of the day.

The evening lion sightings at Onguma were considerably better.

First, a lone female walked along the boundary between the reserve and the seemingly endless sea of grass stretching into the national park. Later, we encountered another female being followed by two males. The males sauntered along behind her, occasionally pausing before continuing their pursuit.

And then they roared.

Hearing Lions at night is a completely different experience. From inside a tent they sound impossibly close, although then camp staff tell you they were half a kilometre away.

These Lions, however, were about 15 metres in front of our vehicle.

The roar was a terrifying, reverberating sound. When the Lion reached the end of its sequence of roars, the finale seemed to come from somewhere deep inside its belly. Nothing else in nature makes a sound quite like it—not even a Tiger.

Southern Lion at Onguma (Mike Watson)

Southern Lion at Onguma (Mike Watson)

THE DUSTY ROAD WEST

Crossing Etosha from east to west was tedious hard work.

There were extensive roadworks, several waterholes were inaccessible, and our mapping app seemed determined to find anything except the shortest route. We eventually encountered a couple of people watching two Black Rhinos, but the animals quickly disappeared into the bush.

That was the highlight of a day spent driving through a dust cloud, while enduring what seemed like at least a million teeth-rattling corrugations.

Eventually, though, relief arrived in the form of a sudden realisation:

We were nearly there.

Okakuejo—the western hub of this part of the national park—was just a few minutes away.

And then the ordeal was over.

Kori Bustards near Namutomi (Mike Watson)

OKAKUEJO AFTER DARK

The tracks around Okakuejo were dusty and corrugated too, and most of the wildlife seemed determined to remain at arms reach.

Nevertheless, we added some worthwhile encounters to our Etosha portfolio: Giraffes and Ostriches silhouetted against the white of the salt pan, a Secretarybird methodically stomping around in search of prey, a feisty little Yellow Mongoose and a Martial Eagle that swooped into a gathering of Guineafowl.

But, the real action began after dark.

Okakuejo’s waterhole is famous for its nocturnal wildlife, and it did not disappoint.

The evening golden hour was interesting enough. Hordes of Helmeted Guineafowl gathered around the water, accompanied by Plains Zebras and Angolan Giraffes against a beautiful sky. Unfortunately, the quantity of dust in the air made the photographs a little soft.

Then came dinner.

Afterwards, we returned to the waterhole to find a crowd gathered around it like spectators at a major sporting event.

We soon discovered why.

On each of the two evenings we spent there, up to eight, or perhaps even nine, impressive Black Rhinos appeared. Some came remarkably close, and under the floodlights they were surprisingly photogenic, despite the challenging combination of high ISO and slow shutter speeds.

There was plenty of interaction between mothers and calves, as well as between individual rhinos. There was pushing, shoving and plenty of snorting.

Magic!

Black Rhinos are essentially bad tempered, grumpy mammals with poor eyesight, and their encounters with the elephants that also arrived after dark were not particularly cordial either.

Black Rhinos at Okakueio Waterhole (Mike Watson)

Spotted Hyaenas and Black-backed Jackals lurked in the shadows, while on the evening we arrived early, hundreds of Double-banded Sandgrouse descended on the waterhole for their own sundowner. They arrived in small groups, drank, and disappeared again into the darkness.

The waterhole after dark was unquestionably one of the highlights of the whole trip.

Our only regret was that we hadn't conserved more energy during the afternoon so that we could have stayed even later to watch the endless comings and goings.

But another busy day awaited us.

Yellow Mongoose, Okakeujo (Mike Watson)

MOVING ON

All too soon, it was time to leave Etosha and head west towards Damaraland.

On the way, we stopped to refuel at one of the few fuel stations operating this year. Then, quite by chance, we came across a crowd of vehicles following the progress of a young male Lion.

I was disappointed to see that he was collared. When he turned side-on, Mike pointed out that the collar was barely visible, but nevertheless it wasn't exactly a photographic opportunity we'd been hoping for.

Still, it seemed an appropriate final Etosha sighting.

The Great White Place had delivered bull elephants towering over us, rhinos drinking under floodlights, lions roaring at point-blank range, giraffes walking into the white void, birds arriving by the hundreds and a night sky containing hundreds of billions of stars.

Not a bad place to tick off the bucket list.

Greater Kudu, Onguma (Mike Watson)

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LONG-TAILED BLUE

Long-tailed Blue | Lampides boeticus (male) Portsdown Hill, Hampshire (Mike Watson)

Driving south on a Friday evening, we hardly needed the UK Government’s emergency warning alarm to remind us not to start wildfires. The landscape was parched, with every blade of grass turned golden brown. At least we weren’t about to be nuked by the Russians, we thought!

This was nothing new to me. I spent my childhood listening to the occasional test of the four-minute warning siren at the bottom of our street. They didn’t even tell us when it was going to be tested! The huge Vickers tank factory on the Tyne, down in the valley below us, was a major target at the time.

When we reached my mum’s home in Hertfordshire, all the windows were wide open, as were the doors, in an attempt to cool the house after yet another day in the mid-thirties. These well-insulated 1970s homes retain heat like ovens.

Meanwhile, Alexander was enjoying reviewing the security camera footage, which revealed the garden’s nocturnal visitors: two foxes and a badger!

SUFFOLK AND FAMILIAR FACES

My first stop the following day was Walberswick in Suffolk, where I had another go at seeing Zitting Cisticola. This time I was successful. At least three of the eleven birds recently present along the Dingle River were bouncing around in the long grass of the saltmarsh.

Perhaps it was a little like watching the first Collared Doves in Cley in 1952? This common and widespread cisticola looks set to colonise the UK from its current foothold on the Suffolk coast, having bred there for the first time in 2025.

My views of the cisticolas were distant and, on this occasion, it was just another number on a list. I was much happier to bump into an old birding pal from the 1980s, Paul Oldfield, and his partner Tina.

Almost 40 years ago, Paul, Tina and I did a crazy road trip to Fontainebleau, near Paris. In fact Tina did all the driving as she rightly reminded us, 1700 miles of it. It involved, among other things, Tina’s car being broken into and my passport being stolen. Needless to say, I never left my passport in a car again! Turning up back in the UK with no personal details and a broken car window was difficult to explain, and no wonder the customs officials proceeded to take her car apart.

It was nice to be reminded that these days, friendship means more than ticking off yet another bird species.

Zitting Cisticola, Walberswick - just another number on a list (Mike Watson)

Suffolk coast south of Walberswick, with Dunwich Coastguards and Sizewell B in the distance (Mike Watson)

39 years later with Tina and Paul

There was plenty of shorebird movement, too, with a couple of Whimbrel, a Greenshank, three Turnstones, four Golden Plovers and several Black-tailed Godwits of note. A pair of Sandwich Terns was on the main lagoon and a couple of Marsh Harriers drifted over the reedbed, while families of Bearded Reedlings pinged out of the Phragmites on a muggy, overcast summer’s day.

The area’s famous windmill has long since fallen into disrepair, while in the distance we could see the tragic, charred landscape of Dunwich Heath. I first saw this windmill in Ian Wallace’s 1979 classic ‘Discover Birds’, it hasn’t changed much. Coincidentally, he also talks about visiting on a muggy day in August and not seeing much.

Walberswick windmill (Mike Watson)

Walberswick windmill - 47 years ago

BUTTERFLIES MOVING NORTH

Back inland in Hertfordshire, I stopped at one of my old regular butterfly haunts, Royston Heath. I was delighted to find plenty of Adonis Blues flying. Their vivid turquoise wings lit up the tinder-dry grassland. The heath is better known as one of THE classic sites for Chalkhill Blue | Polyommatus coridon, particularly for its proliferation of aberrations so prized by the early butterfly collectors.

Adonis Blue was reintroduced to Therfield in 2019, having died out exactly 60 years previously. They have flourished. It is a very welcome unofficial introduction, and this was the first time I had seen the species north of London.

Like the cisticolas, a host of southern insect species are now appearing naturally in the UK with much greater regularity.

Adonis Blue | Polyommatus belargus (male) Therfield Heath (Mike Watson)

Adonis Blue | Polyommatus belargus (male) Therfield Heath (Mike Watson)

Therfield Heath, Royston (Mike Watson)

One of these is the Long-tailed Blue butterfly | Lampides boeticus). On another parched hillside, this time overlooking the naval town of Portsmouth, Portsdown Hill has hosted several of these dainty migrant butterflies over the last couple of weeks.

They behave more like hairstreaks than the downland blues I am used to seeing. The males hold territories and actively defend them from intruders, including Small Whites, Meadow Browns and, of course, other Long-tailed Blues. For such a cluster to be at one site they must surely have bred here this spring?

I enjoyed some fabulous close views, mostly among gone-to-seed marjoram, but also in tiny hawthorn saplings. Having been butterflying since the 1980s, this was a particularly special and long-overdue moment.

Long-tailed Blue has traditionally struggled with northern European winters, much as Clouded Yellow has remained largely a migrant rather than establishing itself. But as the climate changes, both species are becoming increasingly commoner and more regular visitors.

Just a few more signs that our wildlife is changing — with southern species steadily moving north.

Long-tailed Blue | Lampides boeticus (male) Portsdown Hill, Hampshire (Mike Watson)

Long-tailed Blue watchers, Portsdown Hill - the loveliest people! (Mike Watson)


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WESTERN REEF EGRET AT FORYD BAY

Western Reef Egret, Foryd Bay (Mike Watson)

NORTH WALES, not somewhere I was expecting to end up at breakfast time but I don’t usually ignore firsts for Britain a couple of hours away! After some dreadful hazy views west of the bay, where it was feeding with Little Egrets at high tide, it flew back east onto the newly exposed mudflats of Foryd Bay, near Caernarfon, where it had been seen in the morning. Views here were much nicer! A smart dark-billed bird of the ssp gularis from West Africa with a neat white throat and long head and breast plumes. There were lots of old friends at Foryd Bay by early evening - Trevor Ellery, Alan Lewis and Barry Reed. Also here were Osprey, House Martin and Common Shelduck and a loud skylark soundtrack.

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