Rufous-tailed Scrub Robin
When this bird was last seen in the UK forty years ago there was no such thing as a Rufous-tailed Scrub Robin. Back then it was known as Rufous Bushchat, since when Rufous Bush Robin and Rufous Scrub Robin have been mooted, sometimes with hyphens and sometimes without.
Despite bird news websites using at least three of these variations, the response from the country’s top twitchers was immediate. This may not have been a first for Britain, but the vast majority of UK birders 'needed' it for their lists. Scrub Robin fever even reached mainstream national media, an article about the bird becoming the third most-read news item on the BBC website. ITN sent a film crew to record the event and gauge expert opinion through interviews with some of the hundreds of visitors.
A police statement was issued, as there were genuine concerns about the ability of twitchers to curb their instincts and observe the Covid ‘Rule of Six.’ The bird had chosen to skulk an area of low scrub on a saltmarsh, so getting clear views would be difficult and would involve donning wellies. I observed events from a distance, preferring not to join the weekend crowds to see the bird,
I checked the news on Monday morning, and it made up my mind for me. No sign of the bird meant that there would be no awkward conversations in the house. Then came a further update. The bird had been relocated in a nearby hedge. It was now or never, and I decided I would go for it.
I arrived at Stiffkey at 2:15. A little over an hour had passed since the most recent sighting. A farmer had kindly allowed access to a corner of his stubble field, and I joined a group of around a hundred birders, many of whom were masked and able to safely socially distance. We were looking at a fairly sizeable area of hedge and brambles, with extensive ground-cover in the set-aside border of the field. I could see that this was not going to be easy.
Very few birds were on show. An unwelcome Kestrel arrived and perched atop the tallest tree, causing the few Robins and Dunnocks to retreat further into cover. After twenty minutes or so there was a movement a little further along the hedge. A lone bird had perched in a dead tree. The rich sandy and rufous tones confirmed the bird’s identity even based on a partly-obscured initial view. Then it hopped onto a bare branch, giving the assembled crowd a prolonged and clear view before dropping back into cover and disappearing.
It wasn’t seen again for 22 hours and showed only once for thirty seconds the following day, before being slightly more obliging on what proved to be the last of its five-day stay.
Many people took much better photos than my effort above, but despite a round trip of over five hours, I was very pleased and relieved to see the bird.