In the icy cold we waited and again they came and again pausing for the briefest of moments. Then Ron announced that he'd seen a bird hit a net but all that we could see was a feather that on closer inspection was a tiny Goldcrest peering down at us from where the Waxwings should have been by now. It was extracted and ringed, meaning that we wouldn't leave having ringed nothing this morning.
Again more trilling and they sneaked in where our nets weren't but again stopping just long enough to pluck a few berries before departing. Then one seemed to stay longer than the others and Paul crept forward with the hope of flushing it out low into the waiting nets but astonishingly the bird flew below the bottom shelf and away leaving three shivering ringers standing looking at each other with incredulous surprise.
Then was we moved forward to start taking down the shortest of the three nets Paul motioned us back and pointed to a Waxwing that had flown out of nowhere to feed in solitude. We waited until it started making it's way further down through the twigs and branches towards the low hanging fruit and then Paul inched forward for the flush and a streak of pink rocketed straight into a net and hung there, our prize waiting to be extracted. I took that honour already knowing that I would let Rob ring it, Norwich to Gorleston is a long way to travel only to leave 'empty handed' He was pleased, as were we all at seeing a piece of Russia in Norfolk. It's just a shame that there weren't more of her compatriots with her this morning. What had she done to find herself away from the flock?
Adult female Bohemian Waxwing
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