I’ve just finished up a trip out to East Anglia and have had some initial thoughts about birding here – mostly good, some neutral, some bad.

  • The migration of birds down from the Arctic makes even the coldest days a fabulous time to be birdwatching. There’s a seasonal rhythm here which is much more appealing than Victoria, where winter typically just means things leaving and everything getting quieter. There’s some altitudinal variation back home as robins and parrots come down from the hills, but it’s a fairly localised phenomenon compared to the movement of ducks, gulls and shorebirds from Iceland.
  • Birdwatching is so much more developed as a hobby here. It’s seemingly very popular, with most reserves being heavily attended whenever I’ve been there. Amost everybody I’d see out would at least have a pair of binoculars, and there was a very high use of scopes compared to Australia. That was terrific, and these local experts gave me a lot of guidance on where and what to look for. I wouldn’t have been as successful without them.
  • I got the sense that there is a more general interest in birds as well. When I was in Queenborough three guys came out of the pub, pints in hand, and commented on the size of my camera lens. When I (nervously) explained that I was trying to ID the shore birds out on the mudflats (common redshanks), they told me that a marsh up on the cape is currently hosting a flock of Eastern curlews. In Sheringham, an older couple asked what I was photographing on the sea wall (ruddy turnstones), then told me that the birds arrive every winter and leave in the spring. They didn’t know the species name, but had noticed its migratory pattern. Two of my bed and breakfast hosts had specific tips about local birding spots for my target species. They’re anecdotes, but after birding a lot in rural Australia, I was surprised by the informed conversations I was having in rural England.
  • There’s more infrastructure for birdwatching as well. Almost everywhere I’ve been has had mulitple hides, usually quite large with multiple viewing points, retractable windows, cushioned chairs. Some have been multi-story. There have been trails, access paths through private property, clear signage, noticeboards of rare sightings updated daily.
  • The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) owning and managing so many conservation reserves is surely part of that. Reserves have car parks, toilet blocks, cafes and gift shops – again, a bizarre experience compared to Australia where you often just stop by the side of the road and go bush bashing. One reserve, Minsmere in Suffolk, had multiple guides on site who were helping people find rare birds and were radioing their movements to each other. While sitting in one hide on the eastern edge of the reserve, our guide was radioed when a group of whooper swans left a pond on the western edge and headed in our direction, giving us about a minute of notice that this Arctic migrant was now on its way over to us.
  • All this costs money, and most reserves have entry fees. That’s frequently true in New South Wales too, though not in Victoria. This part is a neutral observation – I’d be fine with Parks Vic charging if it meant better maintenance or reinvesting in acquiring more land. I’m not sure if BirdLife Australia charges for access to Gluepot Reserve, but it would make sense. The RSPB fees can be quite steep though – £10 per visit for an adult non-member is a lot.
  • Many of the best conservation reserves being managed by the RSPB also means that most of them have really restrictive opening hours, presumably reflecting when staff are on site. I cannot tell you how ridiculous it is to me that a birdwatching site doesn’t open until 9.30 or 10.00 in the morning – hours after dawn, when birds are most active; and closes at 16.00, before dusk. This was a repeated frustration.
  • The commercial aspect was even deeper at Elmley, a privately-managed conservation reserve on Sheppey. As well as an entry fee, they have a membership program, run tours, and have (expensive) on-site accommodation. The perks of being a member or staying include weekly access to the reserve in the best birding hours at dawn and dusk, as well as access on Fridays, when it is closed to the public. The tours visit parts of the reserve that are otherwise off-limits to anybody. I’m in the Kent birdwatching group on Facebook and there is a lot of frustration expressed about this, particularly as Elmley is an owl hotspot.
  • Everywhere was busy all the time. Around central Melbourne I can easily go into Yarra Bend Park and in an hour only see one jogger. It can be a lovely meditative experience. That wasn’t true in East Anglia, where there were often dozens of others on site.
  • Some non-RSPB reserves allow dogs, including sites designated as national nature reserves. I watched off-leash dogs flushing flocks of ducks, gulls and geese anywhere they were present. At Holkham, an area roped off to protect horned larks and snow buntings was repeatedly disturbed. Absolutely horrible.
  • There’s a lot of food baiting that goes on. I’ve seen feeders almost everywhere I’ve been, including randomly positioned around parks and reserves. I’ve watched people carrying pouches of seeds and grain spread it out in front of a bush and wait to see what emerges. Thankfully I haven’t seen any live baiting. Interestingly I also haven’t seen a single use of call playback, where that is far more common in Australia.
  • Being Australian has absolutely impacted my experience of the species around me. I’ve found myself excited by birds that others dismiss – these Cetti’s warblers are new to me, even if you see them every day. I’ve gotten some eye rolls for the enthusiasm with which I’ve photographed tits, robins and wrens.
  • On the other hand, I’ve had to consciously correct my attitude toward some birds a few times. In particular, when one person shared that a flock of starlings estimated in the thousands had been observed the previous afternoon, my initial reaction was dismissal – starlings are a pest bird in Australia – where for them it was an exciting irruption. I had the same reaction upon seeing a fox – a destructive and fearless introduced predator in Australia, an elusive and natural part of the ecosystem in Britain that people pay to see.
  • Blackberry bushes draw the same response from me – I always think of them as invasive weeds first, something to be cleared out, rather than a normal part of the landscape.

My experience overall has been extremely positive, and a few gripes here shouldn’t suggest otherwise. The expertise of birdwatchers here and their willingness to share it with a newcomer to their country was fantastic, the birds have been great, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed UK birding.