Tuesday December 17

I threw back the curtains this morning and was pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't foggy as forecast. A couple of hours later and about a mile nearer to Morton Bagot I discovered that the weathermen had got it right after all.

My plan was to walk through the Snipe Marsh (as I've now decided to call it) in the hope of counting Snipe and Jack Snipe. In fact the first notable bird was the Peregrine sitting in the dead tree.

Peregrine

As I followed the footpath down into the Snipe Marsh field I became aware of birds mobbing something in the Tawny Owl tree.

Tawny Owl

All in all things were going quite well. A male Stonechat popped up onto the hedge and then proceeded to follow me around in the manner of a Robin.

Stonechat

Then I entered the marsh and things got really interesting. The first bird I flushed was a Common Snipe, and almost immediately a silent Snipe-sized bird. I got onto it expecting to see a Jack Snipe even though it had flushed at a greater distance than they usually do. The bird I saw didn't look like a Jack Snipe, in fact it wasn't a Snipe at all. It was a rail or a crake, presumably Water Rail.

In all honesty the view wasn't great. Rear end only, no white in the wings which looked unmarked brown (as the bird was flying away I couldn't have expected to see a white leading edge), and there was a hint of buff at its back end. Almost immediately it disappeared into the juncus, and I headed towards where it had landed. There was no further sign of it.

After tramping around for a bit I kicked up 12 Snipe and three Jack Snipe in a different part of the marsh, all of the latter behaved normally, flying a short distance before arcing round and dropping down into the marsh. Inevitably the doubts started to set in, shouldn't I have seen trailing legs?

The Flash field was fog-bound and on the walk back to the church where I had parked I counted flocks of 50 Meadow Pipits, and 50 Redwings.

Back home I was encouraged by finding an internet image of a Water Rail flying away from the photographer (admittedly probably in the process of landing) where the legs could not be seen at all.

I nevertheless decided to return at dusk in the hope of hearing it call. The fog was even denser and as dark descended I only added a calling Yellowhammer to the day list. Eventually the Snipe started flying out, each one calling as they flew over. But no Water Rails squealed, so I will have to settle for the views I got in the morning.