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No, I’m not going all Shakespearean. Just wondering how I would describe Newbiggin to somebody who has never been there. That particular train of thought arose yesterday morning while I was engaged in an ultimately fruitless search for the Desert Wheatear that had been on the golf course for the last few days. I followed my usual route from Church Point north along the clifftop towards the power station, stopping to check the flocks of wagtails and pipits that were grubbing about on the beach. The waves crashing into the rocks, sending fountains of spray high into the air were equally captivating. Heading back south, below the ash lagoon banks, the bushes were alive with robins, greenfinches and blackbirds. Two crossbills flew in-off the sea and disappeared into the remarkable jungle that is ‘The Mound’, curlew and redshank called harshly as they were flushed from their roosts by the golfers who were braving the weather. Yes, I forgot to mention, all of this took place in icy-cold driving rain but that didn’t matter; Newbiggin is such an extraordinary mix of old and new, industrial and rural, that it’s the place I go when I need a break from everyday life. Fresh air, exercise, always plenty of birds, curious golfers, a skyline dominated by a power station, huge horses tethered by the edge of the golf course…and people collecting coal from the beach. There really isn’t anywhere like it.

…when, outside the window, there are Coal, Blue, Great, Long-tailed and Willow Tits, Chaffinches, Greenfinches, Goldfinches and Bullfinches, Wood Pigeons, Collared Doves, Starlings, House Sparrows, Robins, Wrens, Dunnocks, Kestrel, Sparrowhawk, Blackbirds and Red Squirrels. Unfortunately, I’m easily distracted by the comings and goings around our battery of bird feeders, so I often only really get down to what I’m supposed to be doing once it gets dark – then the security light comes on and there’s a hedgehog walking across the patio…

Arriving in Morpeth at 12:30 yesterday, I collected a family for a wildlife tour of southeast Northumberland. The trip was (supposed to be) a surprise birthday present, but the cat had been let out of the bag.

First up was a wander along the River Blyth, top spot for Red Squirrels and Otters. We did find probable otter tracks, mixed in with dog prints, human footprints and all sorts of other marks in the riverbank, but no otters. The squirrels were playing a hiding game as well, although it was a nice Saturday afternoon so there was a lot of disturbance with everyone taking the opportunity to get out and enjoy some fresh air; and who could blame them? At one point we found ourselves surrounded by Goldcrests (as I have been throughout Northumberland in the last week) and patience paid off as they started to reveal themselves.

Up into Druridge Bay and prolonged views of two Little Grebes, with an astonishing success rate while they were fishing. Lucy proved to be an expert grebe spotter, finding them every time they re-surfaced away from where they had dived, Katherine was the only one lucky enough to spot the tell-tale dark shape of an otter and Thomas proved very adept at handling the telescope. All of us were stunned as a huge flock of Common Gulls, Starlings, Lapwing, Golden Plover and Redshank suddenly lifted out of the nearby fields. We couldn’t see what had flushed them though.

As dusk approached we tried to peer through the gloom in search of foxes. The light cloud cover parted to reveal the moon in all its glory and a skein of Pink-footed Geese passed overhead, silhouetted by the moonlight. A magical autumn experience.

All of the children on our tours this year have been a joy; well-behaved and interested in everything they see, so we’re developing a newsletter specifically for under-16s. More information coming soon, in our blog and the ‘News’ section of the website.

I was working over near Haltwhistle yesterday, without my pager (the source of rare, and not so rare, bird news). Getting back to the office at 2pm, there was a missed call from Sarah…who was more up-to-date with rarity news than I was. Red-flanked Bluetail on Holy Island!! This eastern gem (the bluetail, not Sarah) is a bird I’ve never seen in Northumberland, so I quickly finished my lunch and headed up the A1. It was cold and the light was fading…and the bird hadn’t been seen for about 5mins before I arrived. Then, there it was…not as stunning as an adult male in the spring, but still a jewel on the autumnal east coast, busily flicking in and out of the trees and shrubs. Hordes of Goldcrests were feeding frantically as darkness descended. Leaving the island I had a decision to make; A1 or coastal route? One is much, much quicker to get home, the other is much more interesting, and we’re developing a series of nocturnal safaris for the winter months, so I opted for interesting…which proved to be an inspired choice. Just south of Embleton I caught a glimpse of white atop a field gate. Surely not enough for a Barn Owl? but, stopping the car, I was amazed to see a Dark-breasted Barn Owl Tyto alba guttata, the Central and Eastern European race of our familiar White-breasted Barn Owl. With rufous underparts and dark grey upperparts I could have easily overlooked this bird if it wasn’t for the contrasty face pattern. After staring at each other for a short while, the owl turned and flew from the gate – disappearing into the night. An encounter with any owl is special, but this one had the added bonus of being a real rarity.

cold, damp, misty autumn evenings? Perhaps it’s the ethereal nature of the world around me, shrouded in a hazy cloak…roving tit flocks moving along hedgerows…corvids heading to roost…blackbirds alarm-calling when you disturb them…hedgehogs snuffling amongst fallen leaves…the high pitched flight calls of Redwings, invisible in the gloom…foxes purposefully following their regular routes…and then, drying out and warming up, enjoying a mug of hot chocolate and planning tomorrow’s excursions.

I went to check on one of our regular sites for foxes, close to Ashington, this afternoon. It wasn’t easy to tell that dusk was approaching, because it had been murky, misty and drizzly all day. A flock of Canada and Greylag Geese seemed quite content and weren’t giving any indication that they’d spotted a fox in the vicinity. A nearby hedgerow was filled with the calls of Goldcrests, surely recent immigrants on the strong northeasterly winds of the weekend. Every so often one would reveal itself and the flashes of yellow cut through the gloom. Then, distantly, I could hear the harsh ‘chak’ calls of Jackdaws. Curiosity got the better of me (I’ve recently read Crow Country by Mark Cocker and can really empathise with the obsessive need to observe, to know and to try to understand) so I went to see what the jackdaws were doing and where they were going. Nearby power cables were draped with a string of black and grey beads, but surely not enough for the number of calls I’d heard. Then, rising from a field just on the other side of a hedgrow from where I was standing, there they were; well over 1000 jackdaws and rooks, all flying in the same direction, surely towards their night-time roost. They vanished into the gloom while still in the air so I couldn’t be sure where they were heading. I relocated to another spot nearly a mile away and again there was a stream of corvids overhead. Plotting their flight line, and estimating the intersection with the first group I saw, means that I should easily find the roost site. Now that will be something special to add to our southeast Northumberland itineraries. A decent corvid roost is one of the natural wonders that everyone should see at least once, whether you’re a birder, an all-round naturalist or even someone who hasn’t really paid any attention to the world around us – you will be impressed.

Having just finished writing and distributing our latest newsletter, I realised that it allows me some time to reflect on the previous month.

October started with disappointment, when we had to cancel our planned whale and dolphin trip due to some very unpleasant weather. These things happen though, and we will be offering a number of these trips next year; there may be much bigger animals than Minke Whale in the sea, but it’s still a breathtaking experience when one surfaces close to the boat.

Much of the rest of the month was taken up by Seal Safaris, and my own favourite moments were the seal fight that we watched, on a day when the weather meant that we couldn’t get across to the Farne Islands and, on a day when the weather was kinder, the sight of a newborn pup, still glistening wet alongside it’s mother as she tried to chase away the gulls that were squabbling over the placenta. The hot chocolate (with cream – don’t tell Sarah…) when back ashore was pretty good as well.

Perhaps themoment of the month was watching two young girls walking up to within a few feet of a Red Squirrel. Actually, no, the moment of the month was the excitement when they came back across to where the rest of us were standing. There may be some excellent footage of wildlife on the television, but nothing compares to experiencing it actually in the wild.

November 1st marks the start of the winter recording period for the Bird Atlas 2007-2011. If you aren’t involved already then you should be – everyone’s bird records are valuable data, whether you are just recording birds in your garden or you want to carry out Timed Tetrad Visits elsewhere. After covering several tetrads close to home last winter we decided to sign up for something a little more remote. Arriving at our chosen starting point on the edge of Harwood Forest we were entertained by four Red Squirrels, who were clearly digging up food that they’d previously buried. Our route for today looked straightforward on the map. However, it proved a bit more challenging than expected, with knee deep wet grass and boggy, uneven ground. Sarah fell into a narrow burn – after she was surprised by a Jack Snipe that took off from under her feet. A Green Woodpecker performed well on a tree in front of us and a Roe Deer allowed us a prolonged view. Our next major obstacle was a stream that had just enough water to make jumping across unwise. Sarah braved the slippery footholds of the moss covered rocks – and took her second drenching of the day 🙁 Then we realised that the fields in front of us held an interesting choice – 15 excitable young bullocks or a huge and obviously angry bull. We opted for the bullocks, and fortunately they were more interested in running away from us than anything else. So, lots of birds, some nice mammals, and an enjoyable walk in the beautiful Northumberland countryside. What could be better?