That time of year 

In common with many birders December is not really our favourite month. Whilst we're not active Scrooges, we get fed up with constant bombardment of Xmas adverts, and having to do things we don't really want to because of "tradition". Nuff said, there have been some memorable Christmases. We once had Xmas dinner in an Australian hotel, which was great. There is a much more laid-back attitude there, whether it's because it's summer I don't know, but shops have small displays and there isn't so much light pollution. The only blow-up Santa we saw was the one below. And the Robins are more stunning. This is a Flame Robin, there's even a pink one!

A record of Siberian Thrush has always intrigued me, being on Christmas Day in Great Yarmouth, in 1977, and during research for my website I found the original report in British Birds. Only the second accepted record, the finder was birding in Great Yarmouth cemetary (a luxury few of us are allowed on 25th) when he watched the bird for about half an hour. In 1977 there was far more trust among birders, and the single observer record was accepted on a good description. As per most Sibe Thrushes it was never seen again. The only time I've ever been birding on Xmas day was when Ann was in hospital and visiting didn't start till 11am, so I went to look for a Red-breasted Goose in Norfolk. I didn't see it but did note that there were a few other birders about.

On Xmas Eve 1988 an American Robin was found in Inverbervie in Scotland. We spent Christmas in eager anticipation of a twitch soon after festivities, but a local cat got there first (it was assumed). We later narrowly missed one on Scilly, so when we arrived home from a trip to the Subantarctic Islands of New Zealand about ten days before Xmas in 2003, having done absolutely nothing seasonal, we found ourselves driving to Cornwall to see the bird at Godrevey. We stopped at a pub on the way home and had a Christmas Dinner with all the trimmings, and still managed to get cards sent and the Christmas tree up before the "big day". Of course the bird was still there in February, and on New Year's Day one was found much closer to home on a trading estate in Grimsby. C'est la twitching!


 I have one last thought about Christmas, which is controversial but also slightly tongue-in-cheek. Many people don't have a Christmas dinner, so why doesn't somebody take some of the pressure (and profit, dare I say) off Bernard Matthews, and go out and shoot some feral geese, which can then be sold and any profits given back to conservation, or just given to charitable organisations after suitable ministrations by a butcher. I gather goose is a trendy alternative to turkey, although whether Greylag and Canada taste good I don't know. Come to that, why do wildfowlers only shoot wild geese?

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