Nordmann's Greenshanks --- A personal 'then and now'

 I saw my first ever Nordmann's Greenshank on Ko Libong in Thailand... and of course Crab Plover! Ko Libong was the place to go at the time if you wanted to see Nordmann's, the only known wintering site, as well as the only east Asian location for Crab Plover.

There had been zero development on the island at that time, no tourists, no accommodation. The late Russell Slack and I took the long-boat from the mainland with locals and livestock. On arrival we met the island's chemist who welcomed us to sleep on the floor of his shop for the duration of our stay; we were also welcome to eat meals with the family but were asked for a small contribution to the cost. Apart from the chemist no one spoke a word of English, except for "Nordmann's Greenshank" which seemed to be the universal greeting to any visitor. Presumably the only visitors to this island were birders and the locals had probably never met a foreigner who wasn't carrying binoculars. We also visited the island's 'cinema', one evening a large white sheet was tied between trees, the generator cranked-up a video played to the assembled islanders sitting on the ground to watch; from the visitors perspective this seemed communal event and whichever video had been brought over from the mainland probably didn't matter. This was a world away from the Thailand most tourists would have seen.

If the Crab Plovers were were easy to spot and identify, the Nordmann's were not. Basically, we didn't really know much about separating them from Common Greenshank, I'd never seen a photograph of one, and we were playing it by ear. What a difference the internet makes!!! 

King et al. (Birds of South East Asia), was the standard reference for travelling birders, and was pretty much on the money:-

"Very much like Common Greenshank and must be separated with care by somewhat stouter bill, with yellowish basal half; ...paler upperparts in winter; paler dark barring on tail; unmarked white axilliaries and wing lining; shorter and often yellower legs, giving a different appearance when feeding..." 

Nevertheless, we weren't carrying scopes on what was, for me, a four-month-trip, so with bins only it wasn't easy. Not only was there no internet in those days, digital photography didn't exist either, so there was no checking images later, everything was sketches and notes. I don't think birding is any more or less exciting nowadays but it's certainly much easier. Plus, fine details of moult, features only apparent in flight and so on, make photography an amazing learning tool, sketches could only show details actually seen in the field.

Of the 'big three' in Japan, Asian Dowitcher, Nordmann's Greenshank and Spoon-billed Sandpiper, I had to wait by far the longest for Nordmann's. In fact, I had to make the trip to Saga, Kyushu, to finally see this species, but as it turns up in Kyushu at the same time as Chinese Sparrowhawk, it makes for an enjoyable birding trip. Tidal sites are tricky and if you hit Daijugarami at the wrong time it can be a very frustrating place. Even at high tide you aren't guaranteed good views.

Spot the Nordmann's; this one isn't nearly as distant as they can be.

 

My first close-to-home bird was in Mie; a juvenile moulting to first winter 9 September 2018, and again further up the coast six days later. I stopped at a small beach between breakwaters and there it was amongst a mixed flock of waders! I don't normally check that beach which made it all the more delightful of a surprise. And, you can't beat sitting on the sand letting the waders to come to you.

...unless they are also just sitting on the beach.

Surprisingly little plastic along the tideline, far more pleasing to the eye than is too often the case.

Quite a few juvenile mantle and scapular feathers already replaced.

Bottom left with Great Knot.

Two weeks ago I found another in Mie, this time in full juvenile plumage and therefore a first for me. Assuming I found it when it first arrived, it was present for 12 days but it could have been there longer for all I know.

At high tide the bird was too close, standing on the concrete ledge at the foot of the seawall. However, as the water receded the angle of view improved with the bird dashing around at high speed, its head often completely submerged, catching small crabs. As the water dropped further the bird moved out with it across the flats, soon too far for detailed photographs.  

Middendorff's(?) Grasshopper Warbler on Hegurajima

Spring migrants should all have completed their journeys by now, any that haven't are potential megas waiting to be found. It's therefore time to reflect on the good birds I did see (Thick-billed Warbler), those I didn’t (Redwing and Chinese Blackbird) and what I might have... and to that end, I do have a ‘funny’ locustella warbler that has been bothering me ever since I came across it on a day trip to Hegurajima on 9 May.

Despite some unresolved questions about its appearance at the time, I concluded it had to be a Middendorff’s Grasshopper Warbler before heading for the ferry. Once back home I looked through my iffy images which only amplified my confusion.

I first saw it in bright sunlight clinging to the outside of a clump of pampas grass in one of the harbour-front ‘gardens’ as I was drifting towards the waiting ferry. My instinctive reaction was Oriental Reed Warbler, not only did it seem large and long-tailed but it had the uniform light-brown upperparts you might expect from first glance of a brightly sunlit Oriental Reed. Before I got the bins on it, it flew into deep shade and tangled vegetation at the foot of the steep slope next to a house. That might have been the end of it as I wasn’t going to spend much time trying to get a better view of an Oriental Reed when my four and a bit hours on the island was all but up. However, I caught a glimpse of it creeping around on the ground and waited a little longer. I managed to see bits of it as it crept under or clambered through lower stems; enough bits to realize it wasn’t an Oriental Reed.

It was 30 metres away in deep shade and frequently obscured by vegetation, I couldn’t make out much detail but quickly checking through shots on the back of the camera I could see white tips to the longest tail feathers and concluded it must be a Middendorff’s, although I was a bit puzzled by my initial impression of it being large and long-tailed.

The bird’s appearance has niggled ever since. My thoughts then turned to the size and structure seeming better suited to Styan’s, which I've never seen on Hegura, while the plumage leans to Middendorff’s without it being quite what I’d expect. However, lightly streaked locustella with white tips to the tail has to be either a Styan’s or Middendorff’s, that much is straight forward, but which, and from which population?

I see plenty of Middendorff’s on Hegura in autumn (even the odd ones in Kyoto city), particularly autumn juveniles, which aren’t really relevant in terms of plumage but it’s been many years since I’ve had good views of spring Middendorff’s, which effectively means I have zero experience. This might be partly responsible for me thinking the plumage looks a bit ‘off’. Nevertheless, plumage aside, Middendorff’s always strike me as well proportioned, somewhat lightly-built, with a relatively fine bill and a shortish tail, unlike this bird. I can see my ‘local’ population of Styan’s throughout summer, from fresh arrivals in May to worn and faded birds in August. They’re a stronger-looking warbler with a deep bill and a longer, broader tail, matching the Hegura bird to an extent, but in terms of plumage they’re peas from the same pod (apart from the extent and saturation of greyish-brown wash on the underparts) and nothing like the Hegura bird.   

It’s tempting to leave it as Middendorff’s/Styan’s. However, the intriguing possibility of identifying a subcerthiola Middendorff’s or a ‘continental’ Styan’s prevents me from quite letting this go. Kennerley (Reed and Bush Warblers) describes subcerthiola as larger than ochotensis and northernmost birds as a match for Styan’s in size. Could this account for my feeling this was a large bird?  I have no idea whether subspecies are identifiable in the field so it seems a bit of a stretch.

 Things which to me don’t seem to sit well with the Middendorff’s indentification:–

Structurally, this was a large, heavily-built warbler with a very deep bill and a long, broad tail which never suggested it could possibly be neatly rounded if spread; the tail was like a plank!

At no time did I see the usually fairly obvious whitish edge of P2, nor can I detect it in any of the images I have.

Things that don’t seem to sit well with anything:–

The tail structure looked odd. T1–2 were broad and surprisingly squared-off, further, instead of having evenly spaced T3–6 with T6 about level with the tips of the undertail coverts, this bird T5–6 bunched closely together and well past the undertail coverts. Additionally, it lacked both cross barring and white tips to the underside of the tail feathers. As it was possible to detect subtle whitish undertail covert tips on a pale ground, any tail markings should have been fairly easy to make out even in these views, I would have thought. Only T1–2 had white tips, narrowly on the former and more prominently on the latter.

The sides of the throat and the upper breast were heavily streaked, the sides of the breast were grey and met in the centre as a mottled grey breast band producing a clear divide between the white throat and yellowish underparts. Prominent breast streaks and yellowish tints might be expected in juveniles but not in spring birds I wouldn't have though, certainly not to this extent. Even then, the yellowish hues of juveniles are more centred on the throat rather than the underparts.

An important point to stress is that assessing plumage details both in the field and in these images was/is tricky because the bird was constantly moving between strong sunlight and deep shade, it was often dappled and rarely in good viewing conditions. In strong sunlight the upperparts looked uniformly pale brown but in light shade the bird was a much darker brown with greyish nape and cheeks and with clear dark centres to crown and mantle feathers creating a subtly streaked appearance. There's a suggestion in one or two images that the rump/uppertail coverts might be slightly paler than the mantle but I didn't notice that in the field and am therefore unsure about this point.

One thing which may or may not be of relevance is that looking through the Macaulay Library images of Middendorff’s dated early May, there were two images that caught my eye but neither showed the whole bird so I don't know whether they were really similar but in each the bird shown has a very streaked throat and both these images were taken in the ROK in early May. Is this coincidental? I’d have assumed the most northerly breeding locustella would be arriving at a later date? How much fresher-looking are early May birds compared to a month later? More questions than answers. 

First some shots of my local Styan's Grasshoppers for comparison.

It always seems sunny when I go so a shot in duller conditions is good. Strong, deep-based bill and relatively long tail are apparent. This late June bird is already looking a bit tatty about the vent/undertail coverts.

They are very plain-looking birds (this early June) but have a strong bill and quite long tail extending well beyond the longest undertail coverts. 

The undertail cross-barring and evenly-spaced white tips should be equally obvious on Middendorff's I'd have thought.

And a couple of mid-October Middendorff's...

To me, this would is a fairly typical Middendorff's, dainty, spiky bill and short, rounded tail.

Despite the foreshortening at this angle, the tail gives a rounded impression, fitting well with the full undertail coverts.

And the bird in question...

That's quite a bill its got, more in the Gray's/Sakhalin class. Bold throat streaking extends diffusely onto the flanks.

It was only in good light (ie shade but not too deep) that head and mantle streaks became apparent. I don't think the pale tip to the bill means anything but it was always noticeable.

This is what I mean by 'tail like a plank', long, broad and straight. There's a hint of contrasting uppertail coverts here.

This shows the narrow white tips of T1 and broader tips of T2.

I almost feel I'm trying to identify a SE Asian bulbul rather than a locustella. The undertail is remarkably uniform and the spacing of the feathers looks very odd; this is never going to produce a short, rounded effect if spread. Yellowish tinted underparts are strange too.

Why is the almost hidden photo-bomber in focus?! The grey sides of the breast meet in the centre creating a clean divide between the white throat and yellowish underparts.

Birding would be so boring if everything was easy.

surprise alcid in Mie

On the Pacific side of my region, any alcid is a very good find. A single Ancient Murrelet is the only one I can think of having seen. And, while I may daydream about all kinds of amazing birds on my way out birding, a good wader, a rare duck, an unexpected passerine, alcids have never ever featured on the fantasy radar. So bearing that in mind, I hope I can be forgiven for being totally stumped by this duck in with a flock of Greater Scaup.

The odd duck was clearly smaller than the Scaup and white seemed to extend right back round the eye. Where's the white patch on a Harlequin Duck? That would be an excellent find this far south.

But it's not a Harlequin though, is it.

Nope, no bells ringing yet and alcid still not on the radar. Until it woke up...

It finally woke up and all was revealed.

Unlike other duck species which have dropped to much lower numbers by late March, Gt Scaup always hang on in their thousands. There are huge rafts all along the 20-30 km I might cover when birding in Mie. Many rafts are so far out they even aren't worth looking at. Closer rafts might be so large as to be too time consuming to be worth more than a scan through for anything obviously different. But any close flock of a manageable size is worth going through in the hope of a Lesser. This was one such flock, although picking up this 'odd duck' was far easier than any Lesser Scaup would have been.

Quite why it was so attached to the Scaup, I've no idea. But then, why was it so far south of where it should have been in the first place? I've only been able to find one record of a Spectacled Guillemot this far south but it's never easy to get accurate information about such birds. It is safe to say this is definitely a major rarity in this part of Japan. Any rare is a good rare, of course, but having been in Hokkaido just last month, I'd have preferred something from the opposite direction. There's just no pleasing some people.

Brown-headed Gull in Choshi

 Less than five weeks after heading up to Choshi to see Little Gull, I was back again for Brown-headed Gull. Japan's third record?

In retrospect, I think I was quite lucky with the Little Gull. It only took three hours on-site to see it, admittedly it felt much longer at the time, while some people have had to make several trips to connect.

It was raining when I arrived at the outer harbour on Monday, my only free day this week and the only one forecast to have rain. Three or four birders under their umbrellas were scanning the harbour, beyond the line of off-loading fishing boats and the bustling of attendant trucks impatient to whisk the catch away for processing. Standing on the opposite side of the road to keep out of work's way, and peering between bow to stern docked vessels doesn't give the best view of the harbour but it was pretty obvious no one was watching it. So I sat in the van having breakfast with one eye on the harbour (hundreds of Black-headed Gulls) and the other on the birders, wishing them every success. Breakfast can only delay the inevitable for so long and leaving scope and camera I headed out to join the harbour patrol. In recent weeks I've come to the firm conclusion that leaving scope, camera or both does not increase the likelihood of something interesting being found, despite what people might suggest.

I never got the hang of umbrella birding, I don't have enough hands as it is. No doubt never even touching one till I was in my 30s has played a part.

Being out in the weather didn't get me any closer to my goal and by about 11 o'clock I was ready to try the inner harbour. Glaucous Gull, Glaucous-winged Gulls and a Thayer's; not bad considering I wasn't even looking at large gulls. 

A much needed coffee then back to the outer harbour again. Still nothing. At least there was no more rain. The phone pinged. Brown-headed had been seen flying by and the Little was on show, inner end of the inner harbour! 

Nope, Little had gone and the fly-by Brown-headed didn't fly back. I walked downstream to the main body of the inner harbour and scanned its length without any hope. The Brown-headed had flown in this direction. It must have been sitting on the water because after a couple of minutes there it was! Flying directly away half way along the harbour. Yesss!!! Fantastic. Too far for a record shot...? I tried... And that was it, couldn't find it in the camera so I didn't know whether it kept going, dropped onto the water, turn left onto the breakwater or right into the ship-side melee. I drove a few hundred metres to the 'bend' in the harbour and scanned from there. Nothing, well another Thayer's, 2nd winter this time. 

After about an hour the undermining internal debate began. You didn't see the mirrors... not surprising given the angle. It could have been a funny first winter Black-headed... no, it was a more powerful, broad-winged gull with huge, round-ended white primary patches! You can't tick it... that was it, for heaven's sake! Nah, UTV... that was never untickable views! You didn't see the mirrors...

From euphoric, successful twitch to dismal failure. There was no point arguing with myself, the damage was done.

Back to the outer harbour. Zero. The afternoon was rapidly slipping away. 

Try the far end of the inner harbour again. No, again. 

I got back in the van watching the Black-headeds passing back and forth, the knot of about 10-15 people scanning the Black-headeds sitting on the wall looked about as hopeful as I felt. After four o'clock, the light's going to go soon. Still got 600 km to do before work tomorrow. And I did see it! That was it! Sorry, UTV.

That guy is running, running with his scope over his shoulder, running to his car. They're all running! It was like Le Mans in the old days, plus tripods. My first thought was to jump out and ask where it was. Stupid thought, there I was already sitting behind the wheel and the first runners were reversing out of their spots to head for the exit, that put me near the front of the convoy heading to, as I might have guessed, the outer harbour.

The boats, bar one still swilling out the hold, had all put back out to sea and the truck drivers finished for the day so parking quayside was now possible. We spilled out to join the group already present, all told there were probably no more than 50 people. Not a vast crowd for such a major rarity.

But where was it?! It was no longer flying just off the quay and had apparently settled on the breakwater.

There it is!!! Whaaaat? My untickable views this afternoon were better than this! It's the big-looking 'Black-headed' on the top ledge, directly below the 'V' in the tetrapods.

All was not lost, with the last light it came back across the harbour and performed as close as 25 metres for about two minutes before disappearing completely again. Two whole minutes to savour, from 39 hours marked at different times by discomfort, tiredness, stress, anguish, disappointment, not even to mention the expense of it all. What a great twitch!

If the light had been better it would have been possible to get some good shots. If the light had been better and the bird stayed a bit longer. Anyway, these may not win prizes but they're a whole world better than the record shot I failed to get in the afternoon could ever have been.

On a final note, the moult of the inner secondaries isn't surprising but why is S1 so short? P7 looks oddly short and P6 perhaps slightly so, not sure what that's about.

      

White-winged Scoter: how rare (or common) is it in Japan?

I had three main targets for a 10-day trip to Hokkaido, all of which were rather optimistic in one way or another: White-winged Scoter, Rock Sandpiper and Bald Eagle. 

There may be one or even two Bald Eagles lurking somewhere in eastern Hokkaido, not necessarily along the coasts, one of them would be a striking adult now. Any hope of connecting with one was beyond optimistic to be honest and needless to say, I didn't. 

Rock Sandpiper on the other hand should instill optimism you'd think, but truth is it's been a long-standing bogey bird for me. This going back to when, though scarce, they were more widespread around the rocky coasts of south east Hokkaido. Years past, numbers dwindled, eventually there came a time when none were reported from what had long been the most reliable site for them. Over the past two or three winters there has been one 'reliable' individual, I use the term advisedly as reliability has never been a quality I'd personally link with Rock Sand. This had the feel of a now or never opportunity and consequently I spent a lot of hours searching for it, managing brief views on just one occasion. True, if I'd stayed put day after day, I would have benefitted from much closer views but the species has already claimed enough of my Hokkaido time over the years, so once I'd seen it I never again spent more than an hour or two a day checking the spots it was likely to be. Likely not to be as it turned out! I'm not complaining though, it's fantastic to finally catch up with it.

Rock Sand, it may be distant but it's recognizable, and that'll do thank you very much.

That brings me to the last of my targets, White-winged Scoter, a species I've considered a major rarity in Japan since it was first recorded a few years ago, and thus another long-shot. 

Surprisingly, there was a sighting in Ochiishi Harbour about the time of my arrival in Hokkaido and this was our first port of call on the first full day's birding. The harbour was empty but a bird in the area gave rise to genuine optimism.

A few days later we were stopping, checking the sea, at various points along the Notsuke Peninsula, one stop thanks to a small party of Asian Rosy Finches. They must have moved on before we could get down to the beach and turning my scope to the ducks off-shore, I found what looked a dead ringer for White-winged Scoter, at about 300 metres when I first picked it up. Unbelievable! A male and female were constantly dipping behind the waves, gentle as they were, from our low position. They were probably no more than 100 metres off the beach but they were well along the shore and moving away quite quickly. Deep snow made any thought of trying to keep up with them out of the question. Luckily, we'd already encountered a flock of Stejneger's along this stretch of the peninsula which was an enormous help in judging the head shape at this distance. I may have been able to get reasonable shots when they were at their closest if I hadn't left my camera in the car, particularly to check the female (which remains unidentified), but I didn't need photographic evidence to convince myself White-winged was in the bag! 

Two days later we were at Wheel Rock off Hanasaki harbour and I was astonished to see another male and female, perhaps only 250 metres out, much better views from a higher elevation this time. Both were definitely White-winged. While we were watching, a couple of local bird-guides turned up (actually slid five metres down the near vertical snowy slope to where we were) and asked if we'd seen the "American" Scoters adding there were another six, with a single "Asian", just round the corner, off the other side of the point. Soon these birds hove into view teaming up with the birds already in front of us. The three male White-winged and single male Stejneger's were very obvious at this range with the light over our shoulder, but the female-types weren't so straight forward. A few days later, on another visit to the same spot, there were four male White-winged and five female-types present. 

So a minimum of nine birds and possibly 11 in total. Has White-winged simply been overlooked in the past? It's likely White-winged in Japan isn't the great rarity it was formerly thought to be.

A few shots of the 'Wheel Rock' birds...

Part of the flock.

No doubt about the males.

Classic White-winged profile and brown flanks.

Three shots of a juvenile-looking first winter.

A presumed first winter male (long in the face) with an adult.

A presumed female with less prominent bill.

A couple of shots of an immature male.

What about this one? I'm thinking adult female with some yellowish on the bill. It clearly has adult-type greater coverts and lacks the paler belly of first winters. The bill looks shorter and therefore deeper than the males.