The last day. After such a crazy, manic year, only one day remained. After a late night writing up the blog on Tuesday, I didn't have time to plan for the day, so I got up early in the morning to plan what I was going to do. In the end, I realised there was only one legitimate option- Pennington Marshes. The aim was a Tundra Bean Goose that had been present for a while. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting to see the bird; it seemed quite erratic. But I had to try. To finish the year by staying at home all day because it was likely I wouldn't see the bird would be a bit defeatist.
After a bit of a journey, with the train from Petersfield to Havant being cancelled, I arrived in Lymington at 11:22, prepared for a bit of a walk to the reserve itself. It had been a beautiful journey through a misty New Forest
Now, immediately I started walking, I realised the big problem. The mist I had just been admiring was much worse here. Like really bad. And the closer I got to the coast, the worse it got. Knowing that I was to be scanning a rather large field, this was not good news.
The walk was uneventful, bar a Barnacle Goose seen in a field with some Canada and Brent Geese. You can see how misty it was here. The birds were not very far away and yet still hardly visible.
I arrived at Normandy Lagoon, with a Firecrest seen briefly in some bushes nearby. Here is Normandy- you could hardly see the other side of the lagoon.
I decided it would be best if I walked in the direction of where the bird was supposed to be. After all, there wasn't much to see here...
The harbour held plenty of waders, including Dunlin, Redshank, Oystercatcher, Avocet, Greenshank and some Curlew.
To be honest, the walk was pretty drab, with mainly mist seen. After about 15 minutes of walking, I checked to see how long Google reckoned it would take and saw that it said another half an hour.
Here's a nice, clear view over the sea towards the Isle of Wight...
Some Ruddy Turnstones were feeding on the shore, along with some Oystercatchers and a few gulls.
I got some photos of Wigeon in the mist as I grew nearer to the field.
I finally made it to the gate where the birds had been reported from, and set my scope up to scan, well, not much. The mist was very heavy, severely limiting the visibility. Nice to see, though, were a few dozen Golden Plovers on part of the flood.
There were two Greylag Geese visible.. just.
By now, nearly an hour had elapsed and there was still no sign of the goose. I decided to check another field nearby, but it was unsucessgul, with only Canada Geese seen. A Robin perched up very close allowing for a picture.
With no sign of the goose being anywhere, I decided to walk along to the car park to see if anything was visible from there.
One of the Greylag Geese had moved closer to the road. I noted its tail seemed damaged- looked a bit unusual.
I continued walking a bit further, and then heard a very loud flap of wings. I turned around, and to my horror, saw the Greylag Goose fly vertically up about 10 meters, before crashing back down to the ground on its back. It was really not nice to see. The bird had no problem getting up into the air, but just seemed to go straight up and not be able to direct where it was going. It soon got up on its feet and started walking around, and without being able to do anything, I continued on.
I'm not going to try and sugarcoat the next hour and a half. It was freezing cold, extremely misty, and completely birdless. The time had gone to 3:15, and no sign of anything still.
All of a sudden, the mist started to clear a bit. For the first time in the day, I saw a bit of blue sky up above. I was hopeful for the first time in two hours. Maybe, just maybe, the bird might be visible.
I walked along to the gate, and started scanning again, but nothing. 5 minutes past, still nothing. 10, then 15. And all of a sudden, the mist closed in again. To the worst it had been all day. The temparature dropped to -1 Degrees, and the sun had started the slow journey down.
A lone Snipe dropped in. The lighting was awful, but editing makes it bearable.
Here is the original image.
And the edit.
By now, the mist had completely closed in, so I decided, dissappointingly, but not completely unexpectedly, to call the search off. I wasn't too disappointed. It had been a long, tiring day, and I spent the 45 minute walk back to the station reminiscing the past year. I was absolutely exhausted. I'd walked nearly 8 miles, which alone isn't much, but coupled with the amount of journeying and walking I've done over the past week, the exhaustian was not surprising. The walk seemed to go on, and on, and on. As I trudged through Lymington Town Center, I decided to take a photo of the high street.
The weather summed up my feelings pretty well- slightly drab, grey, and defeated. But yet, still strangely brilliant. I can finish the year knowing I tried my absolute best, and put my all into it. I hadn't missed the birds due to lack of effort, but because I had truly been beaten. It has been a crazy year, with so much travel and hours spent birding. I physically cannot be disapointed. And so, it was with the thought of all the birds I had seen, and the incredible experiences, I ended my final trip of the year. The dip of the Tundra Bean Goose seems very insignificant in the grand scheme of things, especially as there was nothing else I could have done. I had to give it a go, it would have been foolish not to, but at the same time I wasn't expecting to see the bird. I finally arrived at the station with a feeling of accomplishment about the day, not at all bothered by the dip. What a year it had been. I'd put every ounce of effort into it. For the first time in 4 and a half hours, I sat down.
In the end, a 2 hour journey took 4, due to cancelled trains and delays. But, it gave me a good amount of time to mull over the year. I still can't believe what a year it really was. A long, drawn out marathon. That's what it feels like. A long marathon. But an extremely enjoyable one, with an insane 206 species seen in the UK, and more worldwide. I'm finishing writing this post the evening after, in theory... a year after... thats a funny thought. I'm still exhausted, but also feel relaxed. The chaos of 2025 is now over. It feels sad that it's over. I enjoyed it so, so much. But, as the phrase goes, 'don't cry because its over, be happy that it ever happened.' And that's what I am. I am so, so happy I was able to experience every single one of those 206 birds. 2026 will be slightly different, focusing mainly on seeing new birds, and probably patch birding. A more chilled out year. I kinda need it. It's been such a long, drawn out, exhausting, and chaotic year. But so, so much fun.
I need to go to sleep now. I could go on for hours reminiscing about the incredible three hundred and sixty-five days that 2025 was. Who knows what 2026 will hold. If its anything like 2025, I'm not quite sure I'm prepared for it...
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