Gosh, it’s been almost a week since I drove south from Portishead to the Dorset coast, which proved hard to work. My indecision around Ilminster didn’t help. That’s not in Dorset, but Somerset stretches that far, and beyond through Chard. By then Bridport was my only sensible target.

That was fine. A little further on lay Abbotsbury, where a scaup had been reported. That wasn’t so fine, being closed. You can tell how this is going: nada all the way to my hotel in Bournemouth and a recovery pint at the rather excellent Goat & Tricycle. A pub with that name can’t be beat.

On the subject of scaup I finally logged the lesser scaup at Slimbridge the weekend before and that entered my English list. Also new for the Wetland Centre were redpoll and raven. Funny how common species keep adding to that tally, which now stands at 109. I can’t have been paying attention.

Anyway, carrying on from Bournemouth on the 22nd, I had a beautiful stroll round Hengistbury Head, where ravens again figured by boosting my Hampshire list. I’ve said this before: Bournemouth itself and everywhere east is for me still in Hampshire. So, Slavonian grebes in Christchurch Harbour also counted, and Brent geese there were new for the year.

Then, best for last, an entirely hopeful punt south of Shatterford in the New Forest for a reported great grey shrike. A couple of birders coming the other way late in the afternoon hadn’t seen it after a thorough search and I was left anticipating at best another decent stroll. Not a bit of it: a white blob at the top of a birch stood out in the gloaming for a splendid shrike and I was able to get close enough for cracking views.

That’s probably it for the year – 183 species – not as good as many years recently but then I haven’t been gadding off down under or living in Scotland.

From February 18:

“A beautiful, if somewhat crisp at the start, day in the foothills of the Cairngorms. There wasn’t much bird activity but the Glens are like that. I wonder if they were any better when they had trees?

“Anyway the end of the road up Glen Isla does provide a few Scots pines and a small plantation of other conifers. These held most of the day’s birds, the most notable being one brambling in amongst the numerous chaffinches. It’s always nice to see mistle thrushes too and even better to hear them sing – a rather more melancholy tune than a blackbird’s, I think.

“A few ravens cronked overhead and bothered the lone buzzard. No eagles, of course. And no red grouse this time. However, that other gamekeeper’s favourite, the magpie, did surprisingly appear – only my second sighting for Angus.”

OK, so I did return to Herriotts at Chew Valley and finally admitted the spotted sandpiper to my British list. I’d seen it enough that it couldn’t have been a common sandpiper every time. A few days later, just for good measure, the list went up again with the sharp-tailed sandpiper. I had to thank Redditch WWT not coming to the Somerset Levels for that one. Otherwise I’d have been with them.

Blagdon‘s Slavonian grebe went on to my Somerset list, but not Avon since that retained last year’s bird off Portishead. The latter did gain red-crested pochard and the red-breasted merganser that’s supposed to be pretty regular at Chew.

The middle of November was exciting and rounded off an excellent autumn for the Somerset reservoirs. I’m assuming, but not hoping, that the winter will be quieter.

At first it looked like a buzzard, scattering the wigeon, teal and pintail at this West Sussex reserve. Then it banked to show a creamy white head and its true nature. It must be said that a juvenile, and maybe a female, marsh harrier has similar colouring to a dark morph buzzard so one does need the head for a positive identification. That or a good sighting to get the harrier’s quartering behaviour.

My bird landed straightaway and disappeared behind low scrub so
I didn’t get that luxury. I wondered if it had found a meal when it didn’t reappear.

This interlude followed stunning views of a female peregrine falcon, to the extent that this crappy digishot was possible (where does the yellow fringing come from?) I had to use my iPhone because my camera now discharges batteries within minutes and is effectively dead. I’ll have to work the poker tables some to manifest funds for a new one.

Both these birds of prey were new for my Pulborough list as were a couple of snipe and a calling crossbill. I may also have seen a female at the very tip of a tree but at the distance she was hard to separate from a greenfinch.

All that was on Tuesday and to continue the raptor theme, yesterday’s trip back from Steyning brought me two red kites. Not up the A34 or along the M4 as one might suppose but through the heart of Hampshire, near Old Winchester Hill. That’s my third record in that area so they are drifting south.

And they made a raptorlicious couple of days.

Well, not exactly Bournemouth but it’s more of an eye-opener that way. Fisherman’s Walk Zig Zag, Boscombe to be precise. That is in Bournemouth Unitary Authority, which is technically not Dorset, so in my book Hampshire can reclaim it. Not that this helps the county list because it’s one of only two where I’ve seen Dartford warbler. That was at Acres Down and the other was Slapton Ley, Devon – both twelve years ago.

Twelve years! Imagine my disbelief then as I just nipped out between heavy showers to admire the clouds and light at
the Overcliff Nature Reserve and this Sylvia warbler popped up in front of my nose. In the same family as blackcap, this bird gave no cause for binoculars: its profile was so distinctive. Even so I grabbed great close-ups as it foraged through the cliff-edge gorse. It was like winning the lottery without entering.

More predictable later was dipping on the red-breasted goose at Stanpit Marsh, Christchurch. The reserve was hard to find and then its entrance path was under water. Boy, it has rained. I know: I’d driven through hail, lightning and road-rivers at Yeovil the day before.

The rest of yesterday took me to Brownhill Inclosure and Minstead (Arthur Conan Doyle‘s last resting place) in the New Forest for not much more than a flyover crossbill at the latter. I’m finally calling that a year bird after rejecting a similar call at Black Down earlier in the month. Now let’s see what’s around Steyning.

Lists are all the rage these days, especially those to tick before you die, so here’s my contribution. But with a difference: not for me the plain old best but, as a rabid lister, the locations to deliver the most varied bag of species. The concomitant geographic spread should also make this Top 10 truly British.

Close to Pokerbird WHQ, Somerset’s
Chew Valley Lake holds many freshwater species as well as the prospect of birds, chiefly herons, that are colonising from the continent. It’s especially good for small numbers, but a wide variety, of autumn migrants.

Over the Severn Estuary pine plantations in the Forest of Dean provide the setting for the next stop. It is not so much a location as an area, round Parkend and New Fancy View, that holds the highlights of both hawfinches and displaying goshawks. Nearby RSPB Nagshead completes a trio of spots within a two-kilometre circle.

Further north and inland, where Wales excels, Lake Vrynwy, only 60 miles west of the Black Country, is a breeding ground for many of our passerines. Away from its encircling deciduous woodlands, roads also lead up to the moors and their specialist birds.

Actually in the Midlands and easy off junction 5 of the M5 is the little Worcestershire Wildlife Trust reserve of Upton Warren. Its species list belies its small size as a mixture of salt and fresh water pools attract waders and seabirds as far inland as you can see them.

Even London gets in on the act with its excellent Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust (WWT) reserve at Barnes Elms. In terms of adding to the species, it really only supplies a couple of invaders – rose-ringed parakeet and Egyptian goose. But its proximity to such a mass of population alone makes it worthy of the Top 10.

The least controversial site is RSPB Titchwell on the North Norfolk coast, where just one day’s visit can yield more than 50 species. Its scrapes and lagoons hold a first-rate selection of waders year round to add to species offshore.

The RSPB reserve at Bempton on the Yorkshire cliffs, provides a maternity ward for Britain’s important seabirds. The spring and summer months really see the colonies come alive although a visit any time of the year is good for the surrounding farmland.

Another WWT reserve at Martin Mere fills the northwest England gap, apart from being a fine day out and not just for waterbirds. The site holds a small colony of tree sparrows and the neighbouring farmland has corn buntings.

Scotland offers unique Caledonian pinewoods, home to capercaillie, crested tit and Scottish crossbill. Few places are better to see them than Abernethy, which is primarily famous for its ospreys. Yet another RSPB site at Loch of Strathbeg, coupled with nearby Rattray Head, promises Scottish coastal watching. Here are Britain’s more northerly pelagic birds and waterfowl, especially in the winter.

10 sites and the possibility of 200 species by my calculations. That’s why I call them Top.

It’s simple: drive all day. And that’s pretty much what I did on a roundabout route from Steyning to Portishead. Heavy traffic past Chichester and Southampton didn’t help and more threatened on the A31 across the New Forest. My northerly escape route came into play.

This includes lunch at the Green Dragon, Brook – expensive but nice. Then the roads pass Longcross, Fritham and Ocknell Plain. Any of these, and all points between, would make a good stop, except early in the afternoon – the birding doldrums. My half hour at Milkham Inclosure yielded two types of heather and a buzzard.

The route leaves the Forest through Broomy Walk at Linwood, which I visited with no great success in 1999. (Perhaps the New Forest is not kind to me?) I ploughed on for Rockford Lake, where black terns had been reported, but, passing in the car, it wasn’t even clear that I was surrounded by the entire Blashford complex.

The rest of the day was a saga of “no room at the inn.” Swanage, Wareham, Dorchester, Crewkerne (no inns at all) and Chard all took me up to seven o’clock. Bristol was then only an hour up the motorway. I ran for home.

(Try saying that fast!) And almost the only bird on the Common. Again the technique for finding it was to follow the birders. I still expected a wait and took my wildflower – sorry, weed – guide to pass the time.

It wasn’t necessary. The rather pale female, found on Saturday by Yate Birder (Darren Pearce), obliged by perching openly as shrikes are wont. Without knowing how much distance I’d have to lug a scope, I’d travelled light and would have settled for binocular views. The walk wasn’t that far and other watchers had their scopes, so I had my close-ups anyway. Birders are always generous about that.

So, another, quicker British tick to follow the blue-winged teal and naturally the shrike was a Gloucestershire and Avon lifer too. Not a lifer lifer though: that was in Alicante, 2004. It takes me back…

Apart from watching Manchester United beat Millwall in the FA Cup final at an English bar there, I saw black wheatear, serin and crested lark. A day trip into the hills behind Benidorm landed me Bonelli’s warbler, short-toed treecreeper and firecrest. I carried on round to the coast, north at Penon de Ifach for greater flamingo and gull-billed tern. Many, many species I’ve not seen since. I must return to Spain.

So it dawned. Wet.

No matter. My B&B landlady assured me that I could park right on Strumble Head, for that top seawatching site was my goal.

Windy too. Again no matter. The car makes an acceptable hide and the birds were close enough to shore – gannets, guillemots, one razorbill, kittiwakes and Manx shearwaters. I couldn’t convert any of the latter into Balearics or sooties or even Cory’s, which had been reported over the weekend.

Triple no matter. Manxes are so oceanic that any opportunity to watch them is a gift. 99% of holidaymakers gazing out to sea don’t know the birds exist so again the birder has a whole extra dimension to play in. The shearwater colony at Skomer must be the closest to Bristol so the Pembrokeshire coast must also be the closest true seawatching experience. 160 miles, or more than three hours, distant – not exactly a day trip. About as far as Cornwall. I wonder if these pelagic wanderers grace stretches of the Devon or Dorset coast.

Then I somehow spent the rest of the day pootling in Pembrokeshire. It’s captivating – my Scotland substitute from Bristol. Despite the distance it is hard to believe I’ve never been. Yes, and I did break from the birding and drop in to St David’s.

So I was late afternoon driving into Pembroke itself for a reported scaup. Roadworks slowed me up and on the spur of the moment I decided to stop a further night. I ticked the scaup – the only bird in the entire Castle Pond; it was almost surreal – ate a very hot Madras and was ready for another seabird city at Stack Rocks on the Castlemartin MoD range the following morn.

But only if the Army had played along, or rather didn’t want to play with their toys. The red flags were flying and the barriers were down, just like old days at Barry Buddon. (A firing schedule is on the Web; weekends generally seem to be free but not weekdays.) They could have at least blown something up for me as alternative entertainment. Never mind: I added yellowhammer to the Welsh list at the end of the Angle Peninsula and scuttled for home when heavy showers settled in.

I should know that when a weather forecast says showers, it translates to solid, incessant rain in Welsh. That’s what I got from Rhayader, past the Elan Valley, through Devil’s Bridge and all the way to Cardigan. It only eased there and on past Moylgrove. All the time I was thinking, “I’m only two or three hours from Bristol. I can always run back there.”

But I pushed on and found a £25 B&B in Fishguard despite recent assertions that such a price was no longer possible.

Did I see anything through all this precipitation? One red kite, just in Herefordshire, before I hit Knighton. Another somewhere through Powys and a wheatear as I entered Ceredigion. But above all, the streams were in full spate and silver filaments decorated the hillsides. That’s the reward for rain over mountain roads. Wouldn’t swap it for a lottery win.

Even so I hoped that the weather would allow a clearer Tuesday at the tip of Pembrokeshire.