£765

Web:leica-camera.com

Reviewed by David Chandler

These new high-end compacts are available as 8x and 10x25 models, in leather or rubber-armoured. I was sent the rubber-armoured 10x for review.

Most birdwatchers wouldn’t use a compact as their main binocular – our cultural history tells us that isn’t what you do. But they are small and light, and if the optics are good enough…

Form

It’s a double-hinge binocular, which makes it particularly compact when the barrels are folded in for storage/travel. It weighs less than 400g (the leather version is lighter), the build quality is very good, and it has a feeling of solidity and substance. You might not have used a double-hinge binocular. I found it comfortable enough and, in my medium-sized hands, not too small. Its small form won’t suit everybody though. It’s waterproof and nitrogen-filled.

The focus wheel is one thin-finger wide, and moves clockwise towards more distant birds, very smoothly, with moderate resistance. For birding, you won’t turn it more than about 3/8 of a turn (full movement is about 1 5/8 turns). Dioptre adjustment is via a calibrated twist-ring on the right eyepiece. It works well, doesn’t lock, but stays in place. Eye-relief is quoted as 15mm – just enough for glasses-wearers; if that’s you, do check that it is enough, though. The rubber-covered eyecups twist up and stay up, but have no click-stopped intermediate settings.

Function

It was a warm, sunny September day. A Chiffchaff sang. Migrant Hawkers (dragonflies) were on the wing. The Swallows were unaware, I presume, of the hazards they would face between Cambridgeshire and South Africa. The Noctivid image was very good – clean, bright, with good colours; green and blue on a Magpie 100 metres away. Image sharpness was very good, especially at closer ranges. Edge-to-edge sharpness was excellent and brightness was very good – the Noctivid even did well looking into a heavily-shaded area. Focus precision was also very good, with, as you would expect, gentler, smaller movements needed at greater distance. With a bit of practice, the initial vignetting I had noticed disappeared. The view didn’t feel narrow but, with an apparent field of view of 57°, this is not a wide-angle binocular. That was obvious when I compared it to a very wide-angle 8x. I measured its close-focus as a bit under 1.9m, a little better than the official figure, and the view up-close was impressive – you might want to close an eye for ease of viewing though. Overall, colour fringing seemed well corrected with, perhaps, just a tad on some flying corvids, Jackdaws mostly, telling a Kestrel where to go, then a little later, two of them mobbing a Red Kite.

With its small objectives and small exit pupils a compact is not the obvious choice for low light use. Having said that, with an overcast sky, this binocular performed well at sunset, but its performance was fading 10 minutes later.

Accessories

The package includes a webbing and leather strap. At least, I presume it’s leather – this is Leica. The strap is thin but does the job, attaching via split rings to eyelets. There are separate covers for each eyepiece, which thread onto the strap. I found them a bit of a faff but they didn’t get in the way. There’s a decent Cordura case, but no objective covers.

Specs

Field of view: 5.7°/100m@1,000m

Close focus: 2m

Weight: 379g (359g for leathered version)

Size (width x height x depth): 110x112x40mm

RRP: £765

Warranty: 10 year

Supplied with: Cordura case with belt loop, strap, eyepiece covers, lens cloth.

Web:leica-camera.com

Made in Portugal. Leather version: £890.

Verdict

It needs a bit more care in handling than a larger binocular – getting your eye position right (because of the smaller exit pupils), and in focusing, perhaps, and doesn’t deliver a wide-angle view (but didn’t feel narrow). But, as you have read, there is plenty that is positive. If you’re travelling light and birding isn’t the main thing you’re getting up to, a compact could be a good choice. They’re good for the theatre and looking at things other than birds as well. And a compact could be just what’s needed to draw a less obsessed companion into the wonders of birds. These are among the best compacts out there.

Mike has reached one milestone for his year list, but he still craves just that bit more

This year, as you may know, I have been patch birding more than (perhaps) ever. My chosen locality is Deeping Lakes LWT, which (at its closest) is fewer than five miles due north from my home (as the ibis flies). My target at the beginning of the year was to see/hear 145 birds at (or from – using garden list rules of counting anything seen or heard from within the reserve) the site. And I am delighted to say that, in mid-September, ticked my 145th species: a Barn Owl on a fence post a few hundred metres up the road from the reserve entrance.

The owl had been long-expected, but much more unusual was bird 144, a week earlier – a Nuthatch on the western side of the reserve. When we at first heard its distinctive ‘typewriter’ call, I was with my friend and fellow DL lister (and year lister) Will Bowell, who has had this site as his patch for more than a quarter of a century (since he was a teenager). Needless to say, Will was absolutely buzzing to finally add Nuthatch to his Deeping Lakes life list (which is teetering on the edge of 200 species)! I was pretty pleased to get off 143 for the patch year. It was a reminder if needed, of how important context is in birding – one person’s common garden species can be another’s yearned-for dream bird.

I very much enjoy my daily visits to DL, which are a great way to start the day, and usually rack up 50 or so species before work – almost always with a highlight or two circled in my notebook (sometimes a Marsh Harrier, sometimes a Dunlin, or the ‘last Swift of the year’, that sort of thing). And I can’t really grumble, but it can be a test of stamina trying to grow a year list and seeing the same old birds and mammals again and again, with nothing new. When I say I can’t really grumble, I am thinking of the occasional Bittern (above, being attacked by a Black-headed Gull), the mother and child Otters (below) crossing the track so close to me that I couldn’t squeeze them both in the photo frame, the Hobby repeatedly grabbing dragonflies above the eastern reedbed... you get the idea.

Partly as a result of being perhaps too loyal to this ‘patch’, I think my Peterborough-area ‘bird finding’ has declined a wee bit in 2026. Looking at my spreadsheet, it appears that this year, I have actually ‘found’ only a few more birds in the whole of the Peterborough than I have recorded at Deeping Lakes. This year, so far,nI have found nothing rarer than Redstart, Whinchat, Kittiwake or Tundra Bean Goose…
good scarce birds for the area, but nothing properly rare, no year-highlight find.

And my PBC year list has also suffered (I’m down on recent years), as I am not spending enough time away from DL at the many other excellent local birding sites. That said, I have been tempted away for a handful of special birds (other people’s finds), recently. In late August, I popped down to see (and photograph) an immaculate juvenile Curlew Sandpiper (top of page) in the south of Peterborough. Over the late August bank holiday weekend, I went down to Gloucestershire (with my colleague Marc Abbott and his wife Michelle) to get amazing views of the magnificent Long-tailed Shrike (above) scoffing grasshoppers, beetles and earwigs!

The next day (bank holiday Monday) I twitched just my fourth ever Peterborian Pied Flycatcher (below) in the Etton/Maxey pit complex (another really great bird found on his patch by my friend Hugh Wright).

And finally, how could I resist a jaunt up to Freiston Shore RSPB for the wonderful and wonderfully showy Wryneck (below), by the reserve car park? As I parked, the bird left its favoured ants’ nest by ‘the ramp’, and it took a wee bit of refinding along the upper track (proving, at least to me, that I hadn’t totally lost my bird tracking ability while stuck on my patch).

For the sexy sandpiper and the cryptic woodpecker I tried to apply Rob Read’s excellent advice for photographing birds. I can’t claim to have mastered (or come close to attempting) any of Rob’s artistic compositional techniques, and am still very much in the portrait-taking style of photography. But
I am capable of lying on my fat belly, a position which not only improves the aesthetic of the photo, but also seemsto have less impact on potentially disturbing birds than standing upright like a regular human.

From a Curlew Sandpiper’s point of view, a passing dog-walker is perceived as a potential threat (as was a Pied Wagtail!), while it was so unbothered by the beached whale Weedon, that it walked right up to within a metre of said pseudo-cetacean (too close to focus on).

How I yearn to find something of the quality of a Curlew Sandpiper, or even better a Wryneck, at Deeping Lakes, this autumn. I may have reached the nominal target 145 species, there this year, but I know in my heart of hearts that 150 is the real goal. There is still time, I just need to grind out five more beautiful species on the patch.

Autumn is a nice, woolly term covering a wide span, in bird terms even from July to December. However, perhaps September to late November is more the premise of this issue. Here are a five great birds to look for during this period.

Dotterel

Dotterels are famous for two main things: they nest on the top of mountains, and the expected appearance and roles of the adults in bringing up the young are reversed compared to most birds (females are brighter coloured, and it is the duller males which care for the eggs and youngsters). They are also well known for stopping off in traditional suitable , more or less unvegetated fields during spring and autumn migration. In autumn, birds may appear in flocks of Golden  Plovers on inland fields, or in coastal fields, in small flocks (or singularly). Unlike in spring, subtly marked (though still very attractive) juveniles occur on autumn passage; they are a little smaller than Golden Plovers, with greyer plumage, a n obvious, long pale supercilium (‘eyebrow’) and a whitish horizontal breast band being the key features.

Jack Snipe

The little Jack Snipe is a highly elusive bird – spending the vast majority of its life concealed from view among rushes and reeds, and rarely coming to the edge, in view. But they are not uncommon, with more than 100,000 apparently wintering in the UK (they don’t breed here) – and more being found each year, by the use of thermal imaging equipment. Sometimes, you may get lucky and see one emerge into the open, where it will look smaller and more compact than a Snipe, with a much shorter bill, a dark central crown, a different face pattern and more obvious longitudinal golden stripes on the back. It will also most likely be bouncing up and down, vertically, as if on springs (beware though, as Snipe can sometimes do the same). If accidentally flushed, they rise up (usually silently) and fly off a short distance, looking like tiny Woodcocks.

Lesser Whitethroat

Prior to autumn migration warblers disperse and spread out, searching for energy rich food to bulk up on before the long flight south to the wintering grounds. Some, such as Lesser Whitethroats, may  choose to bulk up on soft fruit like blackberries. So, suddenly, this shy species becomes much easier to watch (at least than in the spring and summer). Lesser Whitethroats are striking birds, with pure white underparts and crisp grey and cold brown upperparts. The bill is dark, the ear coverts often darker than the rest of the grey head; the legs and bill are dark (not pale, as in Whitethroat) and the tail is of medium length (long in Whitethroat). The call is a sharp ‘tek’ very similar to that of a Blackcap.

Little Auk

One of the most abundant seabirds of the northern hemisphere, the European population of this arctic-breeding, Starling-sized auklet has been estimated at between 9 million and 82 million birds. They are scarce to rare visitors to the UK, though, the amount seen being controlled by the wind conditions in the North Sea. In ‘good ‘years, hundreds of individuals may be blown into and  along the east coast, with some inevitably occurring inland. Look for a very small, black and white auk with a tiny, blunt bill.

Lapland Bunting

A largely coastal visitor, Lapland Buntings start to appear (in fairly small numbers) in the autumn, on suitable short-cropped farmland, or along the shingle strand etc. An average of about 700 birds are seen in the UK each year. They are large, short-tailed and long-winged buntings, which shuffle along the ground a bit like Snow Buntings. They loo a bit like winter Reed Buntings, but with a more ‘open’ face (and shorter tail). Listen for the soft whistled ‘pew’ and gentle rattling calls.

All photos from Alamy

RRP: £329

Reviewed by Matt Merritt

If you’ve been reading Bird Watching for a few years, you’ll know that one of the major changes in the optics market that we’ve flagged up has been the vast improvement in binoculars in the ‘budget’ bracket – sub-£400, say.

This is a new addition to Opticron’s extensive range (actually, an update of an older model), and word at Global Birdfair was that it was likely to be a major contender in that category, binoculars for birdwatchers who don’t (yet, at least) want to commit to the top end of the market, but who are still looking for high performance in all conditions.

That WA in the name means wide angle, so that was the first thing I was looking for when I tested them in the field. It’s quoted as 142m@1,000m, and feels every bit of that and then some more, probably because there’s very little softness at the edges. The result is a very ‘walk in’ view.

The view has a very natural colour, with the image very sharp, bright and clean. That was pleasing enough in bright sunshine (and let’s face it, we’ve had a lot of that this summer), but there was impressively little fall-off in brightness or quality when I took them out on some dawn and dusk expeditions.

It was very hard to find any colour-fringing (chromatic aberration) even against the bright midday sun, with it only really revealing itself when following a moving object – get your eye position correct, and you’re unlikely to notice anything.

Close focus is quoted as 1.9m, but I found it more like 1.5m – that made these excellent for looking at butterflies and dragonflies, and even the baby Wrens that have spent the summer hopping around the yard just outside my patio window.

The focus wheel is close to 1.5 fingers wide and reasonably well textured – I found it easy to grip and move, even with gloves on.

It moves very smoothly and moderately stiffly, taking pretty much two full turns from close focus to infinity. That’s quite a lot of travel, but in practice I found it very easy to find focus, and to maintain it on a moving subject.

The dioptre adjustment is on the right barrel. It isn’t click-stopped, but it was easy to set and then stayed in place well in extended use in the field.

The rest of the design is equally impressive. The alloy eyecups are comfortable in extended use, and can be set in one of three distinct positions, offering a maximum of 18.5mm of eye relief. Glasses-wearers should find that they offer a full field of view. Again, they stayed in place well in the field.

They’re well armoured, and feel very solid and robust. It’s fair to say that they don’t feel as light as some 8x42s, but that’s offset by the fact that they’re very well balanced, and even on long days in the field their weight was never an issue. They’re nicely compact, too.

They come with all the accessories you’d expect – a soft case, a neoprene strap, a rainguard (easy to slip on and off), and removable tethered objective lens covers.

Specs

Field of view: 142m@1,000m

Close focus: 1.9m

Eye relief: 18.5mm

Weight: 743g

Size: 145mm x 130mm x 52mm

RRP: £329

Guarantee: 10 years

Web: opticron.co.uk

Verdict

I actually didn’t look at the price until I’d finished testing, and was amazed that these weren’t more like £450-£500. They provide a very wide, bright, sharp image, perform very well in low light, have excellent close focus, and excellent design quality that’s comfortingly solid and very user-friendly. The weight was just about all I could find to gripe about, and in all honesty it wasn’t a genuine problem. Try them – at this price they’re really quite remarkable.

17-23 October, 2026

£1,999, single supplement £100, deposit £350

BOOK NOW Call: 0800 999 3036
www.oriolebirding.com

After the success of last year’s trip, we’re once again running a Bird Watching Readers’ Holiday to the magical Isles of Scilly, led by the experts at Oriole Birding.

The Isles of Scilly are renowned the world over as a migration hotspot, and as one of the best places in the Western Palearctic to see species from ‘across the pond’. October has long been the traditional ‘Scilly Season’, but with less people visiting these days, there is a greater opportunity for finding our own good birds.

Unlike many migration watchpoints, weather is less critical here for producing something of interest. Classic fast tracking Atlantic depressions might dump a Nearctic mega, but each year Scilly also receives a plethora of American shorebirds too, such as annual Pectoral and Buff-breasted Sandpipers and American Golden Plover. Scarcities such as Dotterel, Little Stint and Curlew Sandpiper often appear too, and we will be grilling any wader flocks for White-rumped, Semipalmated or Baird’s Sandpiper.

Passerines are high on the agenda, with late movers and shakers such as Red-breasted Flycatcher, Yellow-browed and Pallas’s Warblers, Little Bunting and even Red-flanked Bluetail all possibilities. Firecrest and Barred Warbler are expected and of course some top American land birds can also reach Scilly – Northern Waterthrush, Red-eyed Vireo, Black and White, Yellow and Blackpoll Warblers being some of the more regular. Who knows what will make landfall during our visit? You can expect to see around 120 species.

Tour information

Tour Leader: Neil Glenn.

Tour description: A lot of walking is required to get the most from your holiday. The terrain is mostly easy with much of the walking on roads, but a reasonable level of physical fitness is required. Expect some potentially long days in the field and several inter-island boat trips. We don't use vehicular transport so you will need to be able to walk 6-7 miles per day.

Group size: 11 plus leader.

What’s included: Six nights en suite accommodation on a B&B basis, evening meals, return flights and services of leaders. Pelagic boat trip also included.

Not included: Transport to/from Penzance and any overnight stay that may be required, travel insurance, drinks and any items of a purely personal nature. Lunches are not included and will be sandwiches purchased each day from local shops. The various inter-island boat trips are not included, expect about £10 per person per trip.

What to bring: Binoculars, scope (optional), camera, clothing for all weathers, walking boots, small rucksack, alarm clock, seasickness pills and field guide.

Now lost as a UK breeding bird, this un-woodpecker-like woodpecker is the most curious of characters

It’s autumn, and most of Europe is saying, “See you next year” to one of its oddest birds, the Wryneck, as it heads off to sub-Saharan Africa for the winter. Up until 200 years ago, Britain would have been joining in the chorus, because the Wryneck was a common bird, familiar enough to have been given several folk-names in different parts of the country. There were once thousands of Wrynecks here every year and it bred, for example, in almost every English county; now there no breeding pairs at all. Its appearances are limited to a smattering of autumn migrants drifting over each migration, a mighty and somewhat mysterious fall.

Not everyone weeps for the Wryneck. Its rivals for nest-holes in the open woodlands where it occurred don’t miss its brutalisation. The Wryneck is notorious as a spoiler. Once a pair of Wrynecks have set their hearts on a particular tree-hole, they won’t respect any incumbents and will sometimes enter a battle of wills, for example with Great Tits, that can be fatal on either side. Even if this doesn’t happen, they routinely spoil other nests, removing nest-material and eggs and killing small young inside. They will spoil nests of other Wrynecks and carry on this destructive behaviour even if they have selected for themselves another site entirely. Indeed, they may attempt to vandalise every nest-hole in the vicinity. As a result, it isn’t surprising that smaller birds sometimes mob them.

The oddest aspect of this conflict is that the Wryneck is a woodpecker, albeit an aberrant one, a member of the very family that is famous for excavating holes in trees, a resource eventually used by other birds. However, the Wryneck is a very un-woodpecker-like woodpecker. It doesn’t drum and it cannot excavate, although it does indulge in the unexplained habit of sometimes pecking loudly while investigating inside a nest hole. It doesn’t look much like a woodpecker, either, decorated instead with a wondrous pattern of cryptic brown and grey markings that are so tasteful that they wouldn’t look out of place in the Sistine Chapel. The Wryneck’s tail is long and soft, utterly useless for climbing vertically up tree trunks, so the Wryneck typically perches in a way akin to most other small birds. Its bill is short and very pointed, without the complete feather covering over the nostrils seen in most woodpeckers. The skull lacks any strengthening or shock-absorbing adaptations of the kind seen in the chisellers of the family.

By now you might be wondering what makes the Wryneck a woodpecker at all. Well, DNA confirms the connection, suggesting that Wrynecks diverged from the rest of the family about 22.5 million years ago. Wrynecks share the woodpeckers’ famous zygodactyl arrangement of the feet – two toes forward, two back. In terms of what you and I might experience, the flight is typically undulating and the advertising call – uttered equally by male and female – may recall the Green Woodpecker. And if you are lucky enough to see a Wryneck feeding, you might spot something else – the signature long, sticky tongue, which extends well beyond the bill tip, and flicks in and out, like that of a snake.

The tongue doesn’t have brush-like bristles, as do some woodpecker tongues, but it is well served with large salivary glands that endow it with stickiness, meaning that small prey items naturally adhere to it. And that is priceless for lapping up the Wryneck’s primary food, ants. In many ways, its feeding methods mirror that of another ant-specialist, the Green Woodpecker – foraging on the ground, often remaining in place for some time, and breaking open ant nests. However, the Wryneck does not dig in the same way, and its diet is also broader. Green Woodpeckers are true specialists (ants make up more than 80% of the diet), while Wrynecks take flies, beetles and spiders, even tadpoles, occasionally. Even so, one analysis of Wryneck poo found 800 ants in 1.5 cubic centimetres of excreta. Incidentally, Wrynecks will also occasionally bring birds’ eggs to the nest for the young, further straining the fractious relationship with Great Tits and other hole nesters.

The Wryneck’s love of small insects – which extends to what it feeds to its young, namely, pellets of ant bodies – belies another decidedly bizarre piece of behaviour which has been consistently recorded. This bird brings substantial numbers of inedible stray, often shiny objects to the nest. These can include stones, pieces of glass, metal, plastics, bones and shells; one study found that the average nest contained 37 items, with as many as 200 recorded. None of this is nest material – most items are gathered as the chicks are growing up – and none seems to be provision, either. It has been suggested that the adults simply bring in things by mistake!

There is much to intrigue us among Wryneck nest behaviour. It is, for one thing, one of the few woodpeckers in which courtship-feeding occurs – the male brings food to deliver to the female during the early nesting period. Wrynecks are also unusual – as are all woodpeckers – for having completely naked hatchlings, completely lacking any down. When very young, Wryneck chicks, of which there are 7-10 per brood, lie in a so-called ‘warmth pyramid’. Resting on their heels, they cosy up belly to belly, with their necks resting on their nest-neighbour’s shoulders. They practise this for up to 14 days from hatching, during which time both sexes brood in shifts.

Perhaps the most famous Wryneck behaviour occurs, however, when the nest is threatened by a potential predator. This is when the Wryneck lives up to its name by lifting its bill almost to the vertical and rotating its head and neck back and forth with a very deliberate action. At the same time, the bird might also make hissing sounds, leading to the very logical conclusion that the whole performance is to mimic a snake. The head-swaying is both strange and unsettling and presumably highly effective. You can see a version of it in many online videos where people have caught the birds for ringing.

The name Wryneck has been used since at least 1585, but the bird’s behaviour has been known since ancient times. In the ancient Greek world, unfortunate birds were tied crosswise to a wheel known as an iynx, which was then rotated, with the bird presumably rotating its head in desperation. This was a charm to pull a desired lover into somebody’s orbit, and it was used in sorcery into Medieval times, including in Britain. The bird’s scientific name, Jynx torquilla, reflects this practice, the torquilla meaning ‘twisting’.

Appalling it may be, but the presence of the Wryneck in English folklore confirms the bird’s sheer familiarity in the country long ago and asks the question as to why this species has been so comprehensively lost. The decline began well before many other modern bird misfortunes and is mirrored in much of the westernmost parts of the bird’s European range. Agricultural intensification, pesticide use and the loss of orchards and ant-filled grasslands have all been suggested as reasons, and all have merit. Ironically, writing in the summer of 2026, another suggestion is that Britain simply became a little too wet for this bird. Certainly, there is likely to be a climatic factor.

Whatever the reason, it seems that, in Britain at least, this wonderfully enigmatic bird was jinxed.

September is to October what April is to May – perceived to be second best in the respective season, but actually often the superior birding month. It is a time of movement and change. Here are five birds which are worth a bit of your time in the midst of all the excitement.

Lesser Yellowlegs

The Lesser Yellowlegs is a rare but regular visitor from North America. It is somewhat like a smaller, slimmer, longer-winged version of a redshank, with long, bright yellow legs; or, if you prefer,  a ‘stretch Wood Sandpiper’, complete with plain wings and square white rump. The neck and bill are longer, making it also resemble a small Greenshank at a glance(but not as closely resembling a Greenshank as its very rare relative the Greater Yellowlegs). The call is even a bit like a Greenshank’s ‘tew tew tew’, though slightly higher pitched and less ‘rough’ sounding. Lesser yellowlegs can turn up in habitats favoured by the likes of Redshank, including coastal marshes,, but also inland ‘wader sites’.

Redstart

Famously a breeding bird from the north and west of the UK, in August and September Redstart adults and youngsters migrate south and east on their African wintering grounds (returning north again the following April).  Always a delight to see, they are the sort of bird which can make a September’s day birding. Redstarts like a nice linear hedge with overhanging branches from which to drop to short grass to grab insect prey before returning to the cover of the bushes/trees. At this time of year most male Redstarts look a bit different from their spring plumage (usually shown in field guides). For instance, adult males usually have white on the upper breast, just below the black throat and abover the bright orange breast. First-winter males have pale, grey-looking throats (where the black throat is ‘masked’ by pale feather tips, which will wear away by spring).

Black Guillemot

While the cliff-nesting auks of ‘seabird cities’ hog attention from the adoring public, arguably the most beautiful of the lot, the Black Guillemot, is quietly being ignored (by many) along the rocky coasts of the north and west. Small and jet black with neat ovals of white on the wings and bright red feet, they are extraordinary, even exotic-looking seabirds. And there is no need to seek out tall cliffs packed with squawking seabirds to see them. In the right spots (such as on Shetlnd), they will be hanging around the harbour walls…

Coal Tit

Our smallest tit is a bird we often take for granted and tend to forget about. In fact it is so easy to forget that it usually even fails to reach lists of birds we tend to ignore. It is not that it is scarce, as there are 680,000 breeding pairs in the UK. So, perhaps it is more to do with it being a bird which is fond of coniferous woodland (though it also occurs in broadleafed and mixed forests), which are habitats slightly shunned by birdwatchers, (perhaps owing to their low diversity of birds). Or it could be that being small they get lost in the canopy and so out of mind.

Juvenile Gannet

Nearly a quarter of a million pairs of Gannets nest in the UK (mostly on islands, rather than on mainland Great Britain), producing a very large number of juveniles. Having left the nest, these dark-plumaged, full-sized youngsters will spend the next few years out at sea. However, that doesn’t mean all of them are out of sight from land, and now is a great time to see our largest seabird in arguably its most beautiful plumage – a decent view will reveal neat rows of white spots on a grey-brown background.