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visitors from southern Europe, presumably due to the spell of light southerly winds that had brought such good weather to the islands. These Mediterranean wanderers included a stunning Bee-eater, which posed for all-comers on the island of Tresco.
    As if this wasn’t enough, in mid-October birds started to arrive from the east, too. Yellow-browed Warblers, an annual visitor from Siberia, seemed to be everywhere, and on the 15th a Booted Warbler was discovered in a clump of bushes on Penninis Head, St Mary’s. These birds had travelled thousands of miles in the wrong direction across Asia and Europe, due to a combination of bad navigation and the right weather conditions. Where they went after leaving the islands, nobody knows.
    Café society — Norfolk-style
    SEPTEMBER 1995
    It’s not far from the truth to say that good weather for birdwatchers is bad weather for everyone else. To put it another way, wind and rain often bring the most interesting birds to our shores – especially in autumn, when migrants on their first journey may go astray during bad weather. But it doesn’t always have to be like that. Once in a while, glorious autumn sunshine and soaring temperatures can be accompanied by fantastic birds.
    Back in late September 1986 I planned a trip to East Anglia with a couple of friends – both relatively novice birdwatchers. As we set out from London I looked at the clear blue sky and reflected that even if we didn’t see any birds, at least we’d get a decent suntan. I was right about the weather, which stayed warm and sunny throughout. Fortunately, I was wrong about the birds.
    We started off at the RSPB’s best-known reserve – Minsmere, in east Suffolk. There, we came across the first rarity of the trip: a juvenile Red-backed Shrike, perched on bushes near the sluice. We also saw an unseasonal Red-necked Grebe, moulting out of its gaudy breeding plumage.
    Heading round the coast towards north Norfolk, we stopped off at Cley Marshes. A quick seawatch produced a variety of commoner seabirds, including passing Gannets, Red-throated Divers and a very obliging Arctic Skua. This bird lived up to its piratical reputation, chasing terns up and down the beach in order to persuade them to regurgitate their food.
    After an enjoyable and productive morning, we headed towards the legendary Nancy’s Café for lunch. This establishment, alas now closed, was located in the back parlour of a tiny terraced cottage in the middle of Cley. For a few years, before the advent of hi-tech bird information services, this humble eatery was the centre of the twitchers’ ‘grapevine’.People phoned Nancy’s from all over the country, leaving messages about rare bird sightings, or more often, wanting to find the latest ‘gen’ on what had been seen elsewhere.
    This made the uninterrupted consumption of food well-nigh impossible. No sooner had you lifted a forkful of baked beans to your mouth, than you had to answer the phone to yet another anxious caller, demanding to know if the latest rarity was still present on Scilly or Fair Isle.
    As we approached Nancy’s, smacking our lips at the thought of our well-deserved meal, another birdwatcher ran out. His rather flustered appearance suggested that he might be in a hurry. Sure enough, as he passed us, he blurted out the words: ‘Citrine Wagtail. Just been found. Blakeney Harbour.’
    His rapid departure presented us with a dilemma. Did we forgo the prospect of lunch, leap in the car and follow him to see this rare and unexpected Siberian vagrant? Or did we stick to our original itinerary?
    It was a foregone conclusion, really. So it was not until an hour or so later, fortified by poached eggs and copious cups of tea, that the three of us wandered up to the small crowd of people by the harbour at Blakeney. There, we asked the usual question, heard at every twitchers’ gathering. ‘Still showing?’
    It