The grass is always greener in Grays.

Warning - the pictures in the post are bad. Kinda Chris Moyles bad, but less fat and annoying. Just shit. Total, unadulterated, 100% pure shit.

Dorset again. Sigh. Another few days stolen away in Swanage, doing a heady mix of nothing, birding, and drinking in the Red Lion. The weather was pretty mixed, meaning the birding was squeezed in between rain storms and consisted mostly of bucket loads of migrants looking bedraggled and pissed off.

The first birding trip however, was an hour or so snatched just after a rainstorm had passed, along a footpath by the river Stour. While there were no migrants looking bedraggled or pissed off, it was some of the most enjoyable birding I've ever done, with good birds in a truly beautiful setting. Kingfishers zipped up and down the channel, giving the Girl her first proper views, a little owl called unseen for the duration, and yellow wagtails fed around the cattle. Excitement was provided by a pair of peregrines, one taking a lazy and unsucessful pass at a wood pigeon, and then by a huge late-summer mixed flock, containing two spotted flycatchers, bullfinch, redstart and various warblers.

The best outing was an afternoon at Durlston. Durlston has to be one of my favourite birding spots. It always provides something worth watching, whether it's the somewhat predictable peregrine down patrolling the cliffs, a merlin hunting the fields or the auks themselves, but this trip was something else. The night before had been clear, clouding over later, and we had woken to considerable rain. By the time we headed out just after lunch, the signs were good. The Magic Tree outside the flat was stuffed full of willow warblers and a huge, dense cloud of hirundines and swifts had gathered overhead. Just along the cliff at Durlston it was even better. There were birds on top of every bush. Warblers skulked in low gorse and holme oaks, whitethroats took cover in drystone walls and chats frantically chased flys from ever bush, rock or fencepost they could find. I lost count of the stonechats and wheatears present - I reckon there were at least 20 of each in the small area we walked, with around five whinchats and a male redstart for good measure. Later on in the walk we booted up a grasshopper warbler and a spotted flycatcher from a field boundary and a treecreeper called from a stunted hawthorne in the carpark. Sure, nothing rare, (though I think treecreeper is pretty good for Durlston and no, it wasn't short-toed) but fuck, migration is awesome.


So the birding was going well. Very well. And then, through the depressing mess that is Orange mobile internet and Dorset phone signal, reports of birds at home started to filter through. They weren't just "birds" though, there are often just "birds" in the area around the flat and I don't really care about missing them. No, these were good birds. Good birds, that were followed by very good birds, and finally "shit-fuck-titty-piss-that's-awesome" birds. Two razorbills and a guillemot, five species of tern. Avocets, and a host of other waders. The reports from Grays weren't nearly as gripping as those from Rainham but I don't doubt that a full day spent watching that tide would have yielded something worthwhile. I'll admit, my good mood was well and truly ruined.

The girl was bemused. We were in Dorset, running around amazing heathy forests like Morden Bog, picking up redstarts, stonechats, flycatchers and so on and yet I was checking my phone beneath every pine, wishing I was at home scanning the river in front of Tilbury docks for sandwich terns. Even sitting in the pub garden in the evening, enjoying a good pint listening to yellow wagtails stream overhead, I was checking the bird news for shitty Grays and Rainham. She was bemused at first, moving rapidly to unimpressed. She helpfully reminded me that had I been at home I'd probably have been at work anyway and was likely to be even more pissed off, so I should shut up and ignore it. Fair point, but honestly, if I'd been at work reading reports like those the other day, I'd probably have pulled a sicky and scoped out of the window all day*.

*for the benefit of work people that may happen, for some reason, to read this 1, stop, it's shite, and 2, not really. I'm very committed and you're lucky to have me.

And that's how I learned that the grass, even when it's grass in Grays, is always greener on the other side of the phone screen, or something. I'm sure there's a moral or conclusion to be had there somewhere but it's hiding just out of sight between the swearwords and bad photos and I can't quite get my hands on it.

Finally, on a non birdy, yet totally awesome note, these were also at Durlston. Bottlenose Dolphins - they were awesome. There were around ten in all, two calves, very close to the cliff.


We have a video, and it's properly awesome, but I need to nick of off the Girl's camera and upload it to youtube before you can watch it. To make up for this, here's a picture of the Girl doing what she seems to do every time she gets near livestock.


Seriously, I have loads of photos like this. It's not just livestock though, she tries it with pretty much every animal. Our first trip to Blakeney Point was fun. Turns out that oystercatchers can run faster than she can.