Undeniably exciting to see a Sabine’s Gull so close and in such warm sunny conditions down at Pennington Flash this morning, but it didn’t feel quite right.
These beautiful pelagic gulls are meant to come past low to the waves as you cower on a headland staring westward into a scope full of spray and salt, not dilly dally over your head in between Mallards and BHGs, at one point even photo-bombing a shot of Trops I was trying to get…
Tropical Thomason had picked me up with Bazzo in the back of his wheels already at about 1030, and once we’d established he didn’t need a SatNav we set off.
40 minutes later we were lost in Leigh, but we managed to remember where Pennington was eventually and were soon watching the long staying Sabs Gull as it swept up and down the lake bank, or loafed on the flat calm water.
I think we might be the last birders on the planet to have caught up with this one.
Gorgeous thing, if a bit incongruous so much out of its normal salty seadog context.
We decided we were clearly on form, so opted to head up to Preston for the Ring Billed Gull by the splendid Green Frog.
We arrived to learn it had flown off from the dock before we got there. Hmmmm…not so much on form after all.
As Bazzo remarked on our increasingly shambling approach to this game: “We could dip a dead Dodo in a moderately small museum”.
Timewise, we gave the Ring Billed three chicken-burgers and a revitalising Irn Bru and there was still no sign.
Having agreed cold beer in the sun was the better part of valour, we headed for the hills, happy in the knowledge the gull would doubtlessly reappear shortly after we left.