With a mad twitch across the continent to see a Wallcreeper in France, a trip also notching up Shore Larks and Snow Buntings, and then an excellent month at my Labanoras feeders, culminating in a mega Pygmy Owl, the birding highlights of the month rather compensated for the weather - the latter a wholly drab affair with very little snow and temperatures rarely much below freezing! Mid-month estimates at the four feeding sites suggested a total of almost 1000 birds present on a daily basis, the bulk being very large numbers of Great Tits and Blue Tits, but alongside these, a male Grey-headed Woodpecker, four Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers and an appearance of northern Long-tailed Tits. Black Woodpeckers and a Great Grey Shrike also put in regular appearances. Away from the feeders, also saw several White-tailed Eagles and a couple of Rough-legged Buzzards at Baltoji Voke, plus a very impressive 50 Steller's Eiders at Palanga and flocks of Whooper Swans at Rusne numbering 1280.
1-3 February, Euro-twitching!
Day One, the path to France.
Vilnius, Eastern Europe. The end of of the work day somehow saw me orientating towards the airport, I wonder why! Two and a half hours later, I was in Brussels and not much later on the road towards France!
Euro-twitching, here we come! Target, Wallcreeper; location Wimereux, northern France.
There are birds and then there are birds, birds of a certain class that just deserve a scramble half way across a continent. Wallcreeper definitely falls into this latter category. And so it was, after a week of putting up with British birders drooling as they spoke of pilgrimages to see it, the bug bit. Naturally, a near 4000 km round trip did require a little justification over and above a single bird, especially given that, if all went well, this would be my fifth Wallcreeper! A little bit of head scratching and then it all fell into place - now based in East Europe, where such things are just memories from past birding days, the lure of nearby flocks of Shore Larks and Snow Buntings, Iceland and Glaucous Gulls and a Great Northern Diver was all I that needed, the makings of a very fine weekend and incentive enough to part with cash for a ticket.
So, the journey had begun, down the autoroute and through the darkness, arriving on the French coast at some unearthly hour after midnight. Rolled back the seat and had a few hours kip.
Day Two, Wimereux Wallcreeper.
Let the birding begin! Finally, after some impatient waiting and a coffee and few croissants, the darkness gave way to morning. It would still be a couple hours though before the tides left the seacliffs at Wimereux accessible, so I began my day in the nearby Boulogne, searching the harbour for a Glaucous Gull. Trillions of gulls milling around, mostly Black-headed, but relatively few large gulls, so I began to feel the chances were small. Rather eager to get over to the Wallcreeper cliffs, I only gave the harbour a cursory look and, not seeing any sign of anything remotely white-winged, I decided to leave. Then, just as I swung round a junction, I happened to glance across some derelict land and notice an enormous congregation of gulls sitting just beyond some railway lines. A quick scan revealed them all to be large gulls, excellent, so I grabbed the scope, nipped over the railway and, bam, smack in the middle of them, a classic first-year monster of a Glaucous Gull!
Bird number one down, onward to the Wallcreeper.
By now bright and sunny, I was on the headland at Wimereux a little after 9.00 a.m. and on the beach below not long after. In the days previous, the Wallcreeper had favoured extensive cliffs to the north and slightly smaller affairs to the south. I chose the north, joining the handful of birders already searching. Plenty of British birders, a few familiar faces amongst them, but the bird was not about. This latter fact did not unduly concern me - the cliffs were extensive, the observers relatively few and, moreover, I suspected the bird would become more active when the sun began to hit the cliffs. Till then the Fulmars and a Black Redstart would suffice. Then, as I chatted with birders almost a kilometre north of the headland, the inevitable happened - a phone call came, the bird was showing to the south! With the beach an assault course of jagged rocks, boulders and slippery slime, it was not the perfect layout for a four-minute mile, but we certainly attempted it!
On the south beach, a rather nice sandy one, there were now perhaps upward of 80 birders, all in a huddle and peering up at the cliffs, the bird was still showing! With a final little sprint, I arrived, looked through a scope and there it was - the Wallcreeper, working along a seam in the rockface, a stunning model of a bird decked out in a classic ashy-grey with a white bib and designer-label bill, all offset by vivid crimson-reds and black, the latter colours accentuated by the constant flicks that accompanied the bird's every move. And then it was off, the beauty show over - somewhat reminiscent of a minature Hoopoe in flight, it flew a couple of hundred metres to the south, landing on various outcrops and an old bunker before then simply vanishing!
Runners less fast had not seen it, and I 
only for perhaps five minutes or a little more, so the search began again. With so many observers now scouring the cliffs, it could not be long before before it was relocated, or so I thought, but half an hour elapsed and still no bird, so a few us us returned to the north beach on the offchance it had given us all the slip. Of course, it hadn't ...yet again, a call came from the south - refound! Another dash over the rocks and back to the south and then, finally, our endeavours were well-rewarded.
Wallcreeper pictures by kind consent of Steve Evans, my shots are not worthy of comparison.
The bird had quit its tricks, it was now content to show for all. Thirty minutes of unparalleled views as the bird fed on a section of low cliffs in the full sunshine. Extracting morsals out of crevices with a long woodpecker-like tongue, edging into holes, jumping from outcrop to outcrop, Euro-twitch February 2008 was deemed a success!!! As midday approached, the Wallcreeper finally made a move, flying high and northwards, over the fort on the headland and to the northern cliffs beyond. Quite content, it seemed the perfect cue to reclimb the cliffs and ponder the rest of the day.
Mopping up operation, I thought, and so off I went, 30 km north to Calais. First stop, extensive sand flats at Le Hemme. There, rather taken back by the vastness of the area, I narrowed down my search by focussing on what I considered to be the best habitat - a fringe between the open sands and a patch of stunted weed growth. A Little Egret flew across and a flock of about 150 Linnets and, after all of ten minutes, I found the birds I was looking for - a flock of 21 Shore Larks running around between isolated tussocks, occasionally joining the Linnets and then very flittish. Very nice birds and the largest flock I have had the pleasure of seeing in Europe!
So, three target birds had looked for and three I had seen The next, Snow Bunting, was even easier! A few kilometres up the coast at Grand-Fort Philippe, I parked the car, got out and there they were, a swirl of about 80 birds circling about over the beach. Down onto the shingle they landed and the views were just perfect. With everything having gone like clockwork, I still had some time to spare, so went into Calais city centre and to the main harbour. The hope was Iceland Gull, but the first locality just produced a lone Kittiwake and dozens of Herring Gulls, whilst the second, the beachfront, saw me arriving as the light began to fade. A Mediterranean Gull sat on the tideline, two Crested Larks flitted about at the top of the beach and a healthy-sized gathering of large gulls on a breakwater hinted that I might find my Iceland Gull. It was not to be though, by the time I had got into a positon to scan them, the light was gone and the gulls just shapes in the twilight! Overnight in Calais.
Day Three, French coast
The day began with another attempt on the Iceland Gull in Calais harbour. I dipped! I looked in the harbour, I looked on the beach, and at both again, but it was nowhere to be seen - not to worry, in amongst the numerous Great Black-backed and Herring Gulls, and single Lesser Black-backed Gull, there was an impressive Caspian Gull, a right sinister-looking brute! Down on the beach, six Crested Larks also busied themselves, dodging Starlings and cars on the road!
With naught more happening in Calais, a leisurely drive northwards then followed, stopping at Platier d'Oye for a gander at a sleeping Spoonbill and assorted ducks and geese all assembled at the small reserve, before then popping in again to see the Snow Buntings on the nearby beach. Lots of Lapwings and mixed thrush flocks in the area too, but the next real port of call was a very unpicturesque industrial zone just on the edge of Dunkerque. In the shadows of petrochemical works, a large coastal lagoon was supposed to have a Great Northern Diver bobbing about upon it. It didn't, or at least I didn't see it, but three very nice Red-necked Grebes did amply compensate, swimming along with several Great Crested Grebes and a single Little Grebe, plus a couple of Guillemots and a Razorbill.
With that, it was over the border into Belgium and up the autoroute back to Brussels. Evening flight back to the depths of Eastern Europe, a memorable weekend twitch over ....2960 km by plane, 760 km by car, 72 species of bird recorded and a whole bunch of darn good species in amongst them - Wallcreeper, Shore Lark, Snow Bunting, Iceland Gull, Baltic Gull, Spoonbill and Red-necked Grebe.
Besides, the weather in Vilnius had been its normal crappy self, in France it was wonderful!
6-13 February, False Spring, awakenings in Lithuania.
In warm sunny days, that by rights should be sub-zero and coated in snow, my Labanoras forest and its inhabitants were beginning 
to waken from their slumber. From the low intensity bursts of Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers up throught the ranks to the pounding of Black Woodpeckers, ricocheting from all corners, the drumming of woodpeckers large and small punctuated the silence that had prevailed. The calm further dented by the yodels of Grey-headed Woodpeckers echoing out from the depths of the swampland.
At the feeders, though action was slackening off a tad, visits by woodpeckers were marked by a greater merriment than in prevous weeks - territorial disputes and/or display breaking out whenever, for example, two or three Middle Spotted Woodpeckers shinnied down together or a couple of male Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers dared to arrive in tandem. Still more, the hints of spring crept forward - my two lone wintering Chaffinches somehow finding buddies and turning themselves into a flock of six, my highest ever winter count for this bird which is normally a summer visitor only.
There is a flip side, however, for all that those birds may revel, the early hints of spring were certainly having negative connotations in one respect ...to my trees! Beavers and Black Woodpeckers had both gone totally loony! With the former, it was simply that the slight thawing of the ice had allowed them access to the forest again and, with massive alders and birches down, they were not missing out on the opportunity! As for the Black Woodpeckers, they were going just nuts! Three trees, all within 50 metres of my cabin, had become the favoured head-banging posts, the pair of birds getting thoroughly engrossed in their destruction. One tree had already broken in half and I fully expect the next to collapse any time soon!
Down at Baltoji Voke, spring stirrings also rippling to the surface. With patches of water clawing their way through the sheet ice, flocks of Mallard and Goosander nudged towards the 250 mark, whilst White-tailed Eagles already patrolled their territory. On still-frozen pools, singing Whooper Swans plodded about on the ice adjacent to traditional nesting sites and Goldeneyes cast their heads back in display. Only in the meadows, still blighted by patches of snow, did there seem to be little sign of a spring awakening - near devoid of birds, the rewards for several kilometres were few - a solitary Rough-legged Buzzard hunting, two Great Grey Shrikes and a pair of Ravens.
16-19 February, Baltic Magic.
A birder and friend from university days, Mike McKee was over for the weekend, so let's see what we could do...
Day One
It was minus ten outside as I stoked up the fire. At last a proper winter day, it was time for birding, Labanoras style. The sun crept over the horizon, gangs of Tree Sparrows descended onto the feeders, two stunning northern Bullfinches sat on the snow, the birding had started.
Our destination, however, lay a kilometre or so away, my forest feeding stations. With two or three cups of tea down and wrapped rather well, we loaded up the car and headed over, a day's photography in front of us. Parking by my frozen pools, barely had we taken our first gulps of the cold air and we were watching a Black Woodpecker, then another! Both calling and flying directly towards my feeding area, it was certainly a good omen for the day ahead.
A hundred metres down and we had reached the forest edge, my cabin and the feeders. With the addition of a screen to the veranda, my cabin becomes a very good photographic hide and it was there that we spent our day. Chilly to see the least, but the 
feeders were absolutely heaving - literally hundreds of Great Tits, often over 50 at a time, plus dozens of Blue Tits, all superbly lit by a bright sun above, sparkling snow below. And against this winter backdrop, Marsh Tits and Nuthatches too, plus a solitary Coal Tit. It was not for these birds alone though that we had decided to sit in the cold, we had some rather special birds to wait for, the woodpeckers. It was not a long wait - our first target popped down onto a feeder about five minutes after arrival, a female Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. And from that point on, there was rarely a moment without at least one woodpecker species on show - if not one of the three Lesser Spots visiting, then one of the many Great Spotted or Middle Spotted Woodpeckers. After two hours, and 
400 photographs later, the final member of the club appeared - up in the trees above, a male Grey-headed Woodpecker, quite superb. As he's always a tad shy, we froze to let him settle, a few minutes more and he would be on the feeders, or at least that was the plan! As he edged in closer and flew from tree to tree, swooping down for a closer look, our plan to stay still fell apart with the sudden arrival of northern snowy-headed Long-tailed Tits, absolute beauties! The first at the feeders this winter, our cameras swung into action, the Grey-headed Woodpecker departed and the Long-tailed Tits danced from feeder to feeder, real little joys.
They would have been reward enough, our day was proving to be most fantastic, but there was a last surprise, a mega surprise. As the day edged towards its end, we decided to take a walk over to the beaver lodge, now encased in ice and covered by snow. After a few photographs, a couple of pauses to admire animal tracks in the snow and a rather loud crack as Mike tried to jump through the ice, we then began our way back. And then we stopped, something was mightily upsetting every small bird in the neighbourhood! Aggitated calls, woodpeckers jumping up and down, it all had to be worth checking out ...30 metres we walked across the ice, the bird excitement was electric and right around us. We stood there, I had a feeling what the cause would be, then I saw it - 'By the birch, sitting by the birch, PYGMY OWL' were my words, I believe. And indeed that is exactly what was there - a stunning Pygmy Owl glaring at the passerines mobbing it, a truly amazing bird. And there it sat, 20 metres in front of us, a star in the winterland wonder that is my forest. After some five minutes or so, it had had enough, persued by birds it flew about 50 metres to a group of trees and disappeared, the bird alarm ceasing almost immediately. A little investigating and we found a hole, it seems I have a resident Pygmy Owl, another new species for my land and a right classic one at that.
And so ended our first day.
Day Two
With the prerequisite teas all drunk, day two started with a trek back into the forest. Pygmy Owl for breakfast seemed a good option, but there was neither sign of the bird nor any scolding birds to suggest he was in lurking, but given it was snowing like crazy all day, that was not a big surprise - the little hole he had disappeared into the day before certainly looked tempting! So, with no owl to distract us, we settled down for a full day of photography ...all the goodies lined up for attention, snowy trees bursting with birds. With the feeding birds spooked once or twice, there hinted a possible presence of the Pygmy Owl still, but the best we saw was a Sparrowhawk who, fancying his chances, came and perched directly above the feeding station. After several hours of snowfall and hundreds of pictures later, with enough photographs of woodpeckers and tits to fill a book, we emerged into a world rather more white than was before. One Great Grey Shrike nearby, two cars down embankments on the road.
Day Three
Up at 5.00 a.m., 350 km drive, parked the car, clambered up the sand dunes, looked out, two Steller's Eiders flew by! Classic start, on occasion a tricky bird to locate, but here we were, less than 30 seconds on the Baltic coast and we had seen both male and female Steller's Eiders, the most mythical of the Baltic's birds. However, pleased though we were, they were just fly-bys, we wanted more, so we trudged a hundred metres or so up the beach to arrive at the pier and there was another - a female bobbing about perhaps 50 metres offshore. Mike stopped to get a few shots, but I had spotted another, so off I strode.
At the end of the pier, not more than five metres distant was yet another female, a very photogenic one at that! And better still, riding the waves a little further out, the stunning males all catching the early morning sun, there was a flock of no less than 50 more Steller's Eiders! Mike arrived and thought he had arrived in heaven, a wonderful spectacle and one of the largest flocks I have seen in a couple of years. The female continued to bob just metres away for the best part of an hour, the flock of 50 drifted ever closer and hordes of Long-tailed Ducks added a little icing to the cake. Out to sea, a Red-throated Diver flew by, landing rather distant, plus a few Great Crested Grebes and Red-breasted Mergansers, but it was the near birds that had us captivated, giving views that we had hoped for, but not fully expected in this very mild year. An hour or so in their company and we turned to leave, but there were 
more, two more to be exact! Not just two more floating about on the sea, but sitting on the rocks near the beach - this is unusual, I have never seen them out of the water before, so I was treated to my first ever offering of Steller Eider feet! Preening, occasionally returning to the water, but very approachable, they posed just perfect for photographs - we were belly-down on the pier, they were just metres from our noses!
Triumphant, we glanced at the watches and realised we still had a half day in front of us. Next stop, the Nemunas Delta, about 80 km south. Normally totally frozen in February and near birdless, the spring of 2008 is on target to be the earliest ever and the result is water, not ice. Water everywhere! What a contrast to the minus 32 C of the previous year!!! And with the water, a full five or six weeks earlier than might be expected, in came the birds.
The delta was a delight - upon flooded meadows that stretched to the eye's end, Whooper Swans numbered over 1280, gaggles of geese included 366 Greylags, 25 White-fronted Geese and about 70 Bean Geese. All unexpected bonuses for a birder in February in Lithuania. On top of those, two Bewick's Swans, an assortment of dabbling ducks, seven White-tailed Eagles, several Bearded Tits pinging in the cover of extensive reedbeds and plenty of flooded roads to make the driving a tad more exciting. With Great Grey Shrikes trailing off wires and the odd Roe Deer or two bounding away, it was then time to return to Vilnius.
Day Four
It was the airport for Mike, but just enough time to squeeze in a meadow or two - duffed finding a resident Rough-legged Buzzard, so had to contend with just a couple of Common Buzzards and two Great Grey Shrikes. Weekend over, not bad at all!
23-27 February, winter farewell!
In came gloom, wind and drizzle! Exactly a year previous, it had been minus 32, now it was just wet and soggy - this winter was not going to win any awards for pleasantness! At Labanoras, all the familiars hung on at the feeders, the highlight perhaps being the rather outstanding sight of no less than four Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers feeding on adjacent feeders at the same time! Also, a new arrival and caught for ringing, another 'dusky' Great Spotted Woodpecker joined the ranks at the feeders, the total now being three 'duskies'.
On the 27th, the temperature hit a staggering 8 C (plus!), it was spring! Birds were flooding in, winter had been cancelled this year! A visit to Baltoji Voke was most enjoyable - five White-tailed Eagles appeared together in the sky, circling and tumbling in display, Cranes called from a marsh over yonder and streams of newly-arrived Skylarks moved their way north, their voices bringing new life to the country, a few Lapwings doing the same. On the pools, instead of ice a metre thick, a superb male Smew sat and preened, Mallards and Wigeons, almost a thousand of them, congregated and on a few choice pools Goosanders and Goldeneyes cavorted in unison. All around, the feel was of late March - Whooper Swans, now in numbers above 50, attracted in the first Bewick's Swans, a dozen landing whilst I was there. And, up above, in a mixed flock, Bean and White-fronted Geese passed over, the first inland birds in Lithuania this spring. A few more days like this and I'll be in a tee-shirt!