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James Lowen

And it also didn't matter for a very different reason. The birding may have been rank, but the moth-ing was exceptional. Only we were (OK, I was) too dim to realise it at the time. A couple of hundred metres shy of Holkham Pines, we kicked up a white moth from an area of sandy turf. It landed a few metres away, and displayed red markings amidst the black spots, and a yellowish wash to the 'face'. I couldn't put a name to it, having only started moth-ing this year. But it did seem familiar, which I thought meant it was a common day-flying moth of the type illustrated in the WILDGuide. I photographed it before it flew up and was blown northwards in the strong southerly wind. Thank heavens for digital!

I had a quick look that evening, and a squizz on Norfolk Moths. But couldn't find it. experience had taught me that this meant I needed to look harder at the identification resources - rather than assume I had discovered something unspeakably rare. Knackered, I bedded down, and resolved to research further the next day.

The following day, we had a wee family trip back to Holkham. Two Yellow-browed Warblers again frequented the path west of Lady Anne's Drive, and I again dipped Pallas's Warbler. Returning home, I tried reference books again. And realised that the moth looked a dead ringer for Crimson Speckled. Townsend and Waring suggested this was an 'immigrant'. Yet it wasn't listed at all on the Norfolk Moths website. And UK Moths suggested there were fewer than 100 records for the UK!

It gradually dawned that Tom and I might have found something special. And failed to recognise it. And failed to put the news out so that others could enjoy it. Doh. Sacha Barbato soon confirmed the ID, tweeted the find, and the news was out. Crimson Speckled: the first vagrant moth I have found, and the first ever for Norfolk. Fall over? I did.

But that didn't matter. I was birding with a mate. And I was in north Norfolk for dawn. Which meant Pink-footed Geese against the sunrise.

Had it not been for a distant Spoonbill and a fine display from Red Kites, the birding would barely have been worth mentioning.

Indeed, it was so dire that I resorted to papping a pipit. And not even a rare one at that.

18 October 2014 Fall over

Beware! This is a tale of utter amateurism, of complete incompetence. And of the relief that comes of having a digital camera to hand.

The 18 October was a birding trip, a day out with old friend Tom Stuart, with the aim of scouring the coast for migrants remaining from last week's fall. Tom's target was Pallas's Warbler, and - after a pretty good week - I'd have been happy with that too. Or finding a Dusky warbler. Something like that.

So we walked from Burnham Overy through to Gun Hill, along the Dunes, through Holkham Pines and across Wells Woods. The number of migrant birds we encountered was, to be frank, pitiful. Tom had come all the way from London (as, separately, had a trio of friends: Bradders, Jono and Nick) for diddily squat. The fall was over.

We heard three Yellow-browed Warblers and glimpsed one. We failed to see the accompanying Pallas's. A fine vis mig of finches early morning included a few Brambling. Goldcrests were still everywhere, but harboured no rare refugees. Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs collectively failed to make it out of single figures. But at least there was a Wheatear. I like Wheatears. And, in the Burnham neck of the woods, there is form for something rarer.