Cackling Geese: a closer look

Richardson’s Cackling Goose Branta hutchinsii  hutchinsii (Blagdon Lake, Somerset, November 2011). Note the square head, tiny bill, dark breast and white neck collar (photo: Nigel Milbourne).

By Keith Vinicombe

On 1 November, Nigel Milbourne discovered an unringed Cackling Goose at Blagdon Lake, Somerset, feeding with feral Canada and Barnacle Geese. He identified it as a Richardson’s Cackling Goose Branta hutchinsii hutchinsii and posted some good photos of it on www.blagdonlakebirds.com. Eventually, the bird came to its senses and moved to nearby Chew Valley Lake, but it soon moved again with the Canada Geese, this time to Torr Reservoir, near Shepton Mallet, where it remains. Disappointingly, the bird information services universally dismissed it as an escape. To rewind seven years ... 

In 2004, the American Ornithologists’ Union separated the seven large forms of Canada Goose from the five small forms, which they lumped together as Cackling Goose. In 2005, this treatment was also adopted but the British Ornithologists’ Union. However, for some reason the BOU decided to rename the two species Greater Canada Goose and Lesser Canada Goose. One problem with this is that Greater Canada Goose now includes the subspecies known as Lesser Canada Goose Branta canadensis parvipes, meaning that this form should, presumably, now be known as Lesser Greater Canada Goose! Given this oxymoron, Birdwatch decided to follow the more sensible American terminology in its Birds of Britain: the Complete Checklist, and British Birds has recently done the same. Given that these geese breed entirely in North America, then we in Britain surely should defer to the AOU’s decision on terminology.

To return to the Somerset bird, there was the inevitable argument about its identity but the issue was quickly put to bed by David Sibley, respected author and illustrator of the Field Guide to the Birds of North America. He came down in favour of it being hutchinsii and, interestingly, explained that this form is actually very variable in both its breast colour and in the presence or absence of a white neck collar; he also sent a very interesting and informative photograph to prove this (for further discussion on the ID of Cackling Geese, see http://www.sibleyguides.com/2007/07/identification-of-cackling-and-canada-goose/).

Richardson’s Cackling Goose Branta hutchinsii hutchinsii (Blagdon Lake, Somerset, November 2011), here with a feral Canada Goose Branta canadensis. It was tiny, estimated to be about 10 per cent smaller than the feral Barnacle Geese it sometimes accompanied (photo: Nigel Milbourne). 

The breeding range of Richardson’s Cackling Goose extends eastwards into north-eastern Canada and includes Baffin Island. Therefore, on geographical grounds it is the subspecies most likely to occur in Britain, and the records so far support this. Greenland Barnacle Geese (and sometimes Pink-footed Geese) act as the ‘carrier species’, the initial vagrancy presumably occurring in the Arctic. This Barnacle population winters in the Hebrides, western Scotland and western Ireland, which is where the majority of Richardson’s occur. But could they also get here on their own? Given that American ducks and even Sandhill Cranes do so, then the answer must surely be ‘yes’.

Autumn 2011 was exceptional for American vagrancy (we have had 17 American birds at Chew alone), a combination of an excellent breeding season in the Arctic and some very strong westerly gales. There has been a significant arrival of at least nine Richardson’s Cackling Geese elsewhere, with four on Islay, one in Mayo, one in Donegal and three in Sligo. In addition, one turned up on the Gwent Levels on 13 November (it was still there on at least 24 December – see www.gwentbirding.blogspot.com). Like the Somerset bird it was unringed, and furthermore it turned up at the same time and place as Gwent’s second-ever Greenland White-front.

Richardson’s Cackling Geese winter in Texas and northern Mexico, but this season there have been a number of wintering records over a thousand miles away in north-eastern Canada, where they do not normally winter. There have also been abnormally high numbers of Canada and Snow Geese lingering there. As in Europe, funny things seem to have been happening with their goose movements. Andy Davis has trawled some North American websites and has come across the following recent records of hutchinsii:

Ontario
* October 27: five near Toronto.
* Early November: two Ottawa (still reported 3 December).
* December 4: eight at Point Pelee and one at Markham.
* December 11: up to five in the Constance Bay area (present for previous 10 days or more).

Nova Scotia
Early November: one (locality not specified).

New Jersey

December 2: seven in Weequahic Park, Newark.

Obviously it’s difficult to be sure about the origins of any vagrant wildfowl, but what are the chances of two unringed Richardson’s Cackling Geese turning up only 15 miles apart at a west coast locality in an exceptional autumn for American vagrancy? Add to this the fact that there has been (a) a significant arrival of the species in western Scotland and Ireland, and (b) apparently abnormal movements in north-eastern Canada and the USA, then surely we have to keep an open mind about these birds.

P.S. Examination of photographs of the Somerset bird revealed that it is a first-winter (not an adult as currently reported by the bird information services). The scapulars clearly show a contrast between the majority of adult feathers, which are square in shape and thickly tipped with buff, and a few lines of remaining juvenile feathers, which are rounded and faintly fringed with dull buff. We have also heard of further reports of unusual winter records of hutchinsii Cackling Geese in Ontario, with up to 30 in one area.

Semi-retrospective Sandpiper

By Keith Vinicombe

On the morning of Thursday 10 November, I discovered a greyish stint feeding with a Dunlin at the mouth of Hollow Brook, in the north-eastern corner of Chew Valley Lake, Somerset. I simply couldn’t get close to it, but it appeared to have a solidly dark crown, with no split supercilium, and a fan-shaped patch behind the eye. It also lacked any trace of a white mantle V, seemed to show a short primary projection and appeared to have a black shaft line on the feathers of the upper row of lower scapulars, expanding into a black blob towards the feather tips. All these features suggested a juvenile Semipalmated Sandpiper.

Semipalmated Sandpiper (smallest shorebird in centre of image, just right of the much-twitched Sharp-tailed Sandpiper, Chew Valley Lake, Somerset, 19 November 2011). The bird's unsplit supercilium is just visible on this photo. By Richard Andrews.

However, it was just too far away to convince me. I went back the following day and watched it for several hours, but I still couldn’t get any closer. I returned again on 15 November, this time armed with an old 60x zoom lens, which I managed to lose in the middle of a reedbed! I spent half the morning trying to find the bloody thing, which, amazingly, I did. Unfortunately, the views were no better, but I did secure 54 rather poor digiscoped images, none of which was sufficiently detailed to provide the proof that I was looking for. Reluctantly, I came to the final conclusion that I had to let it go.

On the weekend of 19 and 20 November, the stint relocated to Herriott’s Bridge at the southern end of the lake, but it was still distant (300 m). The problem now was that everybody was completely distracted by the presence of a juvenile Sharp-tailed Sandpiper that was in the same flock! I decided to try for better views once the crowds died down, but unfortunately, it left overnight on 20th.

Semipalmated Sandpiper (centre bird, Chew Valley Lake, Somerset, 19 November 2011). Note the dark crown and small fan-shaped patch behind the eye, both just visible on this digiscoped image. By Richard Andrews.

It seemed doomed to remain ‘the one that got away’, but about a week later, I had a light bulb moment. On 19 November, Richard Andrews had photographed the Sharp-tailed Sand from a ringing ride near Herriott’s Bridge. I phoned him and asked if, by any chance, he had the stint in any of his photos. To my amazement, he did, and promptly sent me 14 quite reasonable shots of it. As I opened his email, there right before my eyes, was the confirmation that I had been looking for: it was indeed a juvenile Semi-p, just beginning its moult into first-winter plumage!

Needless to say, I felt both elated and vindicated, but I also felt a little uneasy about claiming a bird retrospectively from a series of digital images. Call me old fashioned, but I prefer to identify my birds in the field. Thinking it over, I decided on a belt and braces approach: I sent the photos to Killian Mullarney, who very kindly and very promptly replied with a strong endorsement of the ID as a Semi-p.

This was the lake’s 10th BB rarity and the 16th American bird of a truly remarkable autumn. Even the ‘Good Old Days’ weren’t that good!

Wilson's Snipe

Now split from Common Snipe Gallinago gallinago, Wilson's Snipe G delicata is the lookalike Nearctic counterpart. For decades distinctions between the two have been murky, with much variation and similarity clouding the picture, but in recent years the ID criteria have become clearer and Wilson's - although still bestowed with mega rarity status - is being identified with increasing confidence and regularity in Britain. It surely remains under-recorded here, however, given that 115 have now been recorded in the Azores (for full details see the Birding Azores website).

A major photo ID guide in the January 2012 issue of Birdwatch looks at this problem, with extensive photos of both Common and Wilson's Snipe and discussion of the ID criteria for the rarer species. These videos, shared from YouTube with due credit to those who shot the footage, supplement the still images in the magazine.

 The above clip has interesting 'song' on the soundtrack.

Wilson's Snipe: accepted British records

• 1998: Lower Moors, St Mary’s, 9 October 1998-7 April 1999 (British Birds 101: 539-540).
• 2007: Lower Moors, St Mary’s, a first-winter on 3 October, with the presumed same bird from 1 October to 22 April (British Birds 103: 587); also three juveniles moulting to first-winter plumage at the same site, 21 October-26 December (British Birds 104: 582).
• 2008: Wingletang, St Agnes, 11 October (British Birds 104: 582).

In addition, it seems highly likely that the autumn 2011 bird, present at Lower Moors from September into November and documented so thoroughly with photographs, will become the seventh accepted record in due course.

References and further reading 

Bland, B. 1998. The Wilson’s Snipe on the Isles of Scilly. Birding World 11: 382-385.
Bland, B. 1999. The Wilson’s Snipe on Scilly revisited. Birding World 12: 56-61.
Reid, M. 2008. Identification of Wilson’s and Common Snipe. British Birds 101: 189-200.
Rowlands, A, Small, B J, and Bradshaw, C. 2009. From the Rarities Committee’s files: Identification of Wilson’s Snipe and assessment of the first British record. British Birds 102: 425-434.

Continental Greylag Geese

Three of the continental Greylags at Chew Valley Lake.

By Keith Vinicombe

As many people will be aware from the various bird information services, recent weeks have seen a major displacement of Tundra Bean Geese into Britain, as well as flocks of White-fronted Geese occurring in areas where they are not usually seen. However, a third species of goose, Greylag, seems to have fallen below the radar, despite unusual records at a number of places, such as Portland Bill in Dorset.

Being a common feral species, it would be easy to assume that these records lack significance. However, on 17 November, I came across a party of five at Blagdon Lake in Somerset, an unusual record there for the time of year. When I looked at them through the scope, there was something distinctly odd about them, although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. However, they seemed very fresh and immaculate and both their upperparts and flanks were very heavily barred with white.

A couple of hours later, I was at nearby Chew Valley Lake when, at about 13.30, I heard some Greylags calling. A flock of nine appeared high over the lake and dropped in just to the north of the hide. Their behaviour was strongly suggestive of wild birds and, like those at Blagdon, there was something ‘odd’ about them. I took a large number of digiscoped photographs, and a couple of the better ones are shown here.

Note the pink bills and subtly different bill shape.

According to BWP, there are two subspecies in Europe, nominate anser and eastern rubirostris. Anser occurs in Iceland, Scotland and coastal Norway and has a shorter, thicker and rather triangular bill, predominantly orange in colour (with just some pink behind the tip). Also, it has a pale buffy-grey head and neck and finely barred upperparts and flanks. Our feral breeding birds seem to correspond with this race. Rubirostris, however, is slightly larger and generally paler than anser, with stronger and whiter transverse barring and a longer bill that is wholly pink, apart from the white nail. Birds in central Europe are apparently intermediate.

The Chew birds were indeed heavily and contrastingly barred, they also had longish and rather thin bills, perhaps recalling the bill of Taiga Bean Goose in shape. Their bills were predominantly pink, although at least some had orange at the base. Also distinctive was that the white nail at the tip of the bill was very obvious and contrasting. From BWP, it was clear that they did not fit nominate anser, although, given the orange at the bases of their bills, they did not fit pure rubirostris either. However, they were clearly some way along the spectrum towards that subspecies.

Since then, Nigel Milbourne sent me a good photo of two of the Blagdon birds, and this shows that the left hand one did indeed have an all-pink bill (see ‘Latest news’ at www.blagdonlakebirds.com for 17 November). On re-checking my own photos, it appeared that some of the Chew birds also had all-pink bills. That being the, case, I can’t see any reason why these particular individuals should not be regarded as pure rubirostris. Whatever their exact racial assignment, the important point is that it's safe to conclude that they arrived from continental Europe and were not feral or Icelandic birds. This is the first firm evidence of wild Greylags occurring at the lakes, although the late Bernard King saw a bird at Steart, Somerset, in April 1952 that resembled rubirostris.

Apparently, there has been a big movement of Greylag Geese on the French side of the English Channel, with 200 past Jersey this month and “thousands” past various sites in Normandy. These are thought likely to be Swedish birds deflected westwards en route to Spain (www.guernseybirds.or.gg). It would seem that, like the Tundra Beans and European White-fronts, there has also been a major arrival of continental Greylag Geese - right under our noses!

Roosting Caspian Gulls

By Keith Vinicombe

On a recent trip to East Anglia, one of our target species was Caspian Gull, and a report of six at Minsmere persuaded us to pay a late afternoon visit to the RSPB’s flagship reserve.

A lot has been written about Caspian Gulls in recent years, but this has tended to polarise birders into two camps: those who fully embrace the subject and those who steer well clear of it – many people are simply put off by all the detail.

Among all the talk of black bars on P5 and white tongues on P10, one thing that tends to get overlooked is the species’ jizz. Or to put it another way: how would you notice a Caspian Gull in the first place? Our experiences at Minsmere may help to clarify this. On our arrival, a quick scan through the gulls soon revealed a strong candidate. It was sitting down, front on, with its neck hunched into its body, as shown in the digiscoped photo below.

The adult male Caspian Gull is the bird at the front sitting down. Photo by Keith Vinicombe.

It stood out from the nearby Herring Gulls due to its pure white head, its beady black eye, its long down-turned gape line and its rather long, slim, washed-out, yellowy bill. It was a large, bulky bird, with a deep and well-rounded breast, but it also had a gently rounded head and, unlike the other large gulls, a rather benign, gentle character.

Front on, the combination of its woolly white head and beady eyes reminded me of an albatross, something that has struck me on previous occasions. The colour of the upperparts varied, looking similar to the accompanying Herring Gulls when front on, but a darker, flatter shade of grey when side on, more similar to Yellow-legged Gull.


After a while it became active and its entire shape was transformed. The head appeared small and rather rounded (although, surprisingly, it could also look very square), the bill seemed long, slim and tapered (lacking a strong gonydeal angle) and the neck was very long too. One of the most distinctive things about the extended neck was that it seemed to have an extra curve, producing a prominent bulge at the front, which gave the impression of a full crop (see the photo below).

When active, the male showed the classic Caspian gull shape, with its small rounded head, beady black eye and long, slim, tapered, washed-out bill. Note the prominent bulge in its long neck, resembling a full crop. Photo by Keith Vinicombe.

Its facial expression was completely different from the Herring Gulls, with its black eye and a narrow white upper eyering – a combination that imparted a soft, almost dopey look. The bill was a washed-out, dull yellow with small black marks behind the red spot. When walking around, the legs looked long and spindly, and they were a rather insipid greyish-pink.


After a while, a second bird glided in and sat down next to it. It was pretty much identical, except that it was distinctly smaller in every respect. The birds seemed comfortable in each other’s company and it was clear that they were a male and a female, perhaps even an established pair.


Much of the excellent work on Caspian Gulls has been carried out on rubbish tips, where the birds may be very active in their search for food. Consequently, what tends to be emphasised in the literature is their long, slim, tapered bill, the small pear-shaped head and the long, thin neck. However, their structure often looks quite different at nocturnal roosts, where the birds are relaxed and ‘ready for bed’. Instead, the head looks woolly and rather rounded and they appear short necked when the head is sunk into the shoulders. Also, because the relaxed feathers makes the head look larger, the bill does not stand out as being that different from other large gulls, in either its length or its structure.

For birders searching for Caspian Gulls in evening roosts, this relaxed, rounded pose is the normal default posture. At Minsmere, this was particularly true of the female, which often looked surprisingly Herring Gull-like in its structure and overall appearance, as shown below. In fact, at rest, the female reminded me of a giant Common Gull, with that same gentle expression, a high, rounded crown and a full, rounded breast. Also, it was not as long billed as the male.

The female Caspian Gull (middle, next to a Lesser Black-back) was distinctly smaller than the male and, as this photo shows, could like rather Herring Gull-like. Photo by Keith Vinicombe.

When relaxed, the female had a rounded body (with a full breast) and a very rounded head. The bill was shorter than the male's and did not look particularly long. Photo by Keith Vinicombe.

This is the same female, side on. In this photo, you can make out the darker grey upperparts, the dark eye and the slim, tapered bill. It also shows the flat crown and low forehaead, which are more typical of active Caspian Gulls. Photo by Keith Vinicombe.

Having soaked up the birds’ characters, we did, of course, look at the important primary pattern. Adult Caspian Gulls have much less black in the open wing than both Herring and Yellow-legged Gulls, with the black is, to all intents and purposes, confined to the rim.

At rest, the important feature to look for is the pattern of the underside of the outer primary, which is readily visible on the ‘opposite’ underwing, especially when the bird is preening its primaries. Caspian Gulls have a large white mirror at their wing-tip but there is also a long lobe of white on the inner web of the outer primary and this is separated from the white mirror by a relatively short area of black. This white-black-white pattern is very distinctive.

Three final points are worthy of clarification:
• Although the above account emphasises the black eye, when carefully scrutinised in good light, both these Caspian Gulls showed pale eyes, albeit a dull ivory colour. This is in fact perfectly normal in good, close range views – I once checked hundreds in the Ukraine!
• Although winter Caspian Gulls are often said to be white headed, they do in fact acquire grey head streaking just like other large gulls. It’s just that this streaking is so fine, so pale and so delicate, that it is often not visible except on very good views. Believe it or not, both the birds illustrated above had this streaking, but it normally manifested itself as a light dusting of grey that was not immediately apparent.
• It is also worth remembering that there is complete overlap in the bill measurements of Caspian, Herring, Yellow-legged and Lesser Black-backed Gulls.

Just before we left Minsmere, a third Caspian Gull dropped in, completing an excellent couple of hours of educational gull-watching!

At Least we got there in the end ...

By Keith Vinicombe

Whether you are a good birder or a bad one, finding a rarity always involves a large dollop of good luck, and this was brought home to me last week on our annual October visit to Scilly.

The first few days had been unseasonably hot and sunny, with most birders wandering around the islands in their shirt sleeves. On Monday 3 October, we set off for Tresco with no coats or waterproofs, confident that the heat wave would continue. However, half way across to the island, the mist rolled in, the wind got up and the temperature plummeted. By the time we disembarked at New Grimsby, it was, well, horrible.

Nevertheless, spirits soon rose with the discovery of a new Lesser Yellowlegs and three Pec Sands on the Great Pool but, as we continued to shiver, all I could think about was getting back to St Mary’s for a nice hot cup of tea. In one of the hides, I bumped into Robin Mawer, who told me that a stint had been seen briefly earlier in the morning. Apparently, it was thought probably a Little Stint.

Having given the yellowlegs a good grilling, we decided to yomp across the island to catch the early boat back to St Mary’s. However, half way to the quay at Carn Near, somebody told us that the Little Stint was showing at the eastern end of the Great Pool. I soon found it and set up my telescope. The trouble was, it was right on the opposite side of the pool, somewhere in the region of 200 m away. As I stared at it through the scope, it struck me that there was something not quite right about it. It showed noticeable pale bases to the third row of scapulars, rather like a worn juvenile Semipalmated Sandpiper, and I couldn’t see a mantle V. However, its overall plumage tone was quite a rich, almost chestnutty-brown, quite wrong for a Semi-p.

The only other possible alternative was Least Sandpiper, but that fitted even less. Least Sand has a Pectoral Sandpiper-like breast band and yellowy or greeny legs. This bird had fairly distinct patches on the sides of the breast and obviously black legs. In addition, it eventually turned to reveal a white V, albeit a rather weak one towards to the rear of the mantle.

This is what it looked like (screw up your eyes and imagine it at 200 m range):

Note the patch on the sides of the breast and the black legs.

Moving on a bit further, I found a small group of birders – including some very experienced Scilly locals - also grilling it. In a quick exchange of views, we all agreed that it had to be a Little Stint, and so off I rushed to catch the boat.

The following morning, there was a mega-alert on the pager: Least Sandpiper on the south beach on Tresco. Off we sped back across the water, but this time suitably kitted out for the inclement weather. By the time we got there, the bird had relocated to the eastern end of the Great Pool, to the exact spot where we had seen yesterday’s Little Stint. A quick look through the scope and my heart sank – it was the same bird. This time, though, we had the sense to walk down the southern side of the pool and watch it at ranges down to about 20 m, where it was clear to see that it was indeed a Least Sand.

At close range, it had a very finely streaked breast band – indeed, just like a Pec Sand – but what surprised me was that the background colour to the breast was pure white. This meant that, at any distance, the central part of the band was more or less invisible. The other thing was that its legs were heavily caked in sticky black mud. At times, though, chunks fell off to reveal the true colour below: olive green.

This is what it looked like up close:

Least Sandpipers really are reminiscent of a ‘mini Pec’. Note the narrow pale eye-ring, the fairly solidly streaked crown with no ‘split supercilium’, the complete breast band, the lack of obvious mantle Vs, the greeny legs and also the tiny primary projection beyond the tertials – juvenile Little Stint has a long projection of two or three primaries (although often shorter on adults).

Although I can justify dismissing it as a Little Stint, I can’t forgive myself for failing to check it out properly. If only I’d walked down the other side of the pool and given it a proper look! But I was cold, fed up, hungry, and rushing for the boat. That’s where the luck comes in – or, rather, the lack of it! But the episode also served as a reminder to follow your instincts, and always make certain before dismissing an even slightly odd looking bird.

PS Congratulations to my old mate Dick Filby though for sussing it out the following morning … don’t you just hate him!

White Wagtails – an easy ID shortcut

White Wagtail (Scilly, 21 Oct 2009). Autumn birds like this typically look
smart, having completed their moult before migrating. Photo: Steve Young.

Pied Wagtail (Seaforth, Lancashire, 4 Sep 2003). This rather dishevelled
female is undergoing a longer wing and body moult. Photo: Steve Young.

Although most birders don’t have many problems separating Pied and White Wagtails in spring, the two seem to cause a lot of confusion in autumn, when grey-backed juvenile Pieds confuse the issue. However, there is a very simple fact that gets overlooked in the separation of the two forms in autumn, and which renders the identification of White Wagtails at this time of year very straightforward.

Birds need to be in tip-top condition when they migrate, not only in terms of their fat reserves and general health, but also regarding their plumage. Moult does not take place during migration, as this would put a strain on the bird and would also impact on its aerodynamics, thus reducing its flight efficiency. Although some birds, such as adult waders, may suspend their moult during migration, most migrants complete their post-breeding and post-juvenile moults prior to migration. This means that most migrants are in completely fresh, neat and immaculate plumage when on their autumn migration, and this is particularly true of passerines.

Pied Wagtail is much more sedentary than White Wagtail and, like many essentially resident species, it has a rather protracted autumn moult. To confirm this, Birds of the Western Palearctic (Vol V) states that, in a non-migratory population of Pied Wagtails in southern England, the average duration of primary moult was estimated as 76 days, with an average start of 16 July and an average completion date of 30 September. Body moult more or less covered the same period. However, in migratory White Wagtails in northern Finland, the moult starts on 8 July (on average) but they take only 46-48 days to complete their moult. This means that, by the end of August, these high-latitude White Wagtails will have completed their moult and be ready to migrate south. Unfortunately, there is no data in BWP for Iceland, from where most of our migrant White Wagtails originate (at least those in western Britain). However, it is clear from my own observations in Somerset that White Wagtails in autumn (which usually appear from the first week of September) have already completed their post-breeding or post-juvenile moults, whereas the local Pieds are still in obvious moult well into September.

White Wagtail (Aswan, Egypt, 15 Oct 2005). Moult is completed prior to
migration, so plumage should appear immaculate. Photo: Dominic Mitchell.

Pied Wagtail (Seaforth NR, Lancashire, 12 Sep 2003). In contrast, Pied
takes longer to complete its moult, and appears scruffy. Photo: Steve Young.

The important point to make, therefore, is that in late August and September migrnt White Wagtails are always in newly moulted, ‘clean’, immaculate and fresh winter plumage, whereas local Pieds are still looking scruffy, ‘moth eaten’ and often dishevelled. As far as the young birds are concerned, in late August and September, you are in fact comparing first-winter Whites with Pieds that still retain a significant amount of their weak and fluffy juvenile body plumage. Such birds have black breast patches, whereas first-winter Whites have already acquired a neat and contrasting narrow crescent-shaped necklace across the lower throat/upper breast. In addition, this stands out as it contrasts strongly with the almost completely white underparts. On adult Whites, the necklace is thicker.

Pied Wagtail is a darker, sootier grey on the upperparts (adult males are largely black above), but the important feature of autumn Pied is its extensive dark sooty-grey flanks. White Wagtails have white flanks, with just some restricted pale grey confined to the sides of the breast, around the bend of the wing. The white flanks are readily apparent in flight and this allows even flying birds to be identified with some degree of confidence.

To sum up, autumn White Wagtails look clean, neat and immaculate; they are pale grey above, with white flanks and a neat and contrasting black necklace across the lower throat/upper breast. September Pieds, on the other hand, are rather scruffy and moth eaten, a result of their active moult. They retain significant amounts of black on the breast, they are a dark smoky-grey above and they have extensive smoky-grey breast sides and flanks. To put it simply, if you see a scruffy White Wagtail in autumn, then it probably isn’t one!

I would stress that the above relates to observations in western Britain, which involve migrant Icelandic White Wagtails; I have not studied autumn White Wagtails in eastern Britain.