I do not consider myself a twitcher. I'd much rather see an uncommon bird on my local patch than travel half way across the country, or even beyond, for the likes of an American vagrant I've seen plenty of in the US and which is probably doomed to die anyway. There have been a few notable exceptions when it comes to lifers, such as the Falcated Duck in Zeeland or last year's Siberian Rubythroat but, even then, I generally try to work a long-staying rarity around an already planned excursion or at least plan some other birding nearby so that all is not lost should the target bird fail to show.
Last autumn's phenomenal and totally unprecented influx of Siberian Accentors really captivated me, however, so news of an overwintering individual in northern Denmark had me cogitating until a crazy urge finally got the better of my sense of reason and I decided to go for it! After an extremely long, overnight train journey Brussels-Cologne-Hamburg-Copenhagen, I crossed the whole of Denmark and finally made it to Hirtshals two hours late and just after sunset, thus missing the first of three chances I had to connect with THE bird. The following morning I was wide awake in anticipation well before sunrise and my 9am rendez-vous with a local birder. After a brief detour for the immature Glaucous Gull (above) in the harbour plus the local, resident Crested Larks (the only ones in the whole of Scandinavia), we were soon standing at the bush the iron sparrow (as the Danes call it) had been reliably frequenting the previous days. It started snowing, we paced up and down and scoured the vegetation but all we could find were Dunnocks. Just my luck, I thought, for some Dunnocks to have moved in and chased it off after a 69-day stay! We were soon joined by a third birder yet, after an hour of searching, there was still no sign of the bird and I was beginning to think it had all been in vain. There had been a group of Fieldfares moving around all morning and perching on some distant bushes so I was occasionally looking at them, spotting a few other birds mixed in. A dozen or so Greenfinches, a bright, male Yellowhammer, a Whinchat. Hang on, though! Whinchats do NOT occur in Denmark mid-winter but what else would have a yellowish breast and a black face mask? Shit, Siberian Accentor, but just as the realisation hit me, the bird flew up and towards us dropping down quickly into some very thick scrub. Surely that was not all I was going to get but, thankfully, after a few more nerve-wracking minutes, it popped up again allowing me to get this first record shot.
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| Siberian Accentor (not a Whinchat!), 17 Jan 2017 (Day 70), Hirtshals, Denmark |
It then flew over the road back to its favourite bush, where it started feeding at point-blank range for the next hour or so. Phew! What a beauty, and many thanks to Kurt and Vagn for their precious help.
