Vanish Warbler
8th September 2007, SaturdayOn a still morning in mist-capped Hastings, the sounds carry clearly: the pulsing wail of Herring Gulls and the crunch of shingle as fishing boats are launched onto the high tide. There’s also the whine from machines of the street-cleaning teams and the steady footfall of the beach litter-picker, neither of whose labours seem ever to extend to the gulleys and crevasses of Castle Rocks, where I’m in search of yesterday’s Greenish Warbler. Through narrow gaps and over hand-worn sandstone, I crunch across merrymakers’ debris of glass shards, crushed cartons and flattened cans.
A few Meadow Pipits and Grey Wagtails are going east in the mist, but the cliff-face itself is busy with Robins, Dunnocks, Blue Tits and phylloscs. They move westward from the shelter of ivy and holm oak along the gloomy canyons behind the DeLuxe and Pelham Crescent, where they perch on a/c units and explore a rusty downpipe.
From the western side of Ladies’ Parlour, bursts of recorded Herring Gull alarm calls can be heard from the roof of the shopping centre. Whether these deter the gulls is open to question, but they certainly irritate nearby householders. Then more bursts – this time of Greenish Warbler song – but only from the minidisk player of birders beginning to give up hope of finding this bird – only the 4th for Sussex -unaided.
Single Hobby and Whimbrel pass over in the mist, but the sycamores seem to contain no more than the odd Chiffchaff.
Then an odd-shaped small bird appears silhouetted on a dead umbellifer. As we creep closer and closer its markings seem more and more confusing until we realize we’ve got the size all wrong and it’s a Wryneck. There was one here on August 24th, but this is likely to be a new one.
So, when we retreat to the West Hill Café, it’s with some measure of success.
Wild Hastings
wildRye
