Autumn Migration at Spurn Point Nature Reserve

As we stood on the windswept tip of Spurn Point, our site map flapped in the gusts.

This fragile, shifting peninsula marks the beginning of the Holderness Coast, where tides and gales constantly battle the land. The narrow spit stretched out before us, with the churning Humber Estuary on one side and the pounding North Sea on the other.

Above, gulls cried as they wheeled against the grey sky.

Our guide, a young man seemingly immune to the elements, pointed out to sea.

"You see that sandbank out there? That's where Spurn Point used to be, just a few years back. The tides are always on the move, eating away at the shore."

He shook his head, his voice carried away on the wind. "It's a reminder that nothing stays the same for long."

Our trip to Spurn Point

Earlier in the year, we had set our sights on Spurn Point, drawn by the thrill of the autumn migration.

We planned our trip for September, hoping to catch thousands of birds making their way to warmer climes. As we arrived, however, it was clear that the weather had other plans.

We had travelled a day earlier, navigating winding roads towards England's easternmost tip. A highlight was crossing the Greenwich Meridian, the imaginary line dividing the Earth into two hemispheres.

Upon arrival at Spurn Point, our first port of call was the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust Discovery Centre.

We were drawn into the Blue Bell Café by the aroma of homemade soup, which helped us shake off the chill. With renewed energy, we ventured out into the wild beauty of Spurn Point, not wanting to waste the last of the daylight.

We headed to the Sea Watching Hide, a simple wooden structure where a group of volunteers had gathered to count birds. As we joined them, a man with binoculars announced, "Five Gannets just passed the platform, flying south." A woman with a notebook called out, "Red-throated Diver in front of the fives!"

We followed their gazes to the horizon, where a row of wind turbines - dubbed the "fives" by locals - stood apart from the rest. I squinted, but the birds, were too distant for my camera lens.

Sign giving information about the Wash Over at Spurn Point

We bid farewell to the volunteers and headed to the Wash-Over point. With the tide out, the muddy estuary was exposed, dotted with waders and ducks.

As we walked, the sky grew heavier and the sun disappeared behind clouds. Although the light was too soft for serious photography, I took a few record shots of the serene scene.

Finally, we wrapped up our excursion and headed towards our accommodation for the week, the sound of the sea still echoing in our ears.

Guided walk - Day 2 at Spurn Point

We headed to the Discovery Centre for a 9am guided walk, only to find we were in the wrong place. After retracing our steps, we arrived at the Spurn Bird Observatory with minutes to spare. The wild weather had deterred everyone else; we were the only two to show up.

Our guide, Johnnie, had planned a route around "The Triangle", a path that took us past the Crown and Anchor pub and along the estuary's edge. There we spotted a lone Curlew probing the mudflats.

Curlew on the Humber estuary

We turned left towards The Warren, where a late Hobby, a bird of prey similar to the Peregrine, cut across the sky. Crossing the road, we revisited the Sea Watching Hide. This time, I was lucky enough to see a Short Eared Owl flying low over the shore.

As we walked along the cliffs, a Wheatear briefly caught my eye.

Close views of a Wheatear on the beach at Spurn Head

We stopped at the Canal Hide, which only offered a view of two Moorhens, before we continued towards a field of sunflowers. Despite the heavy rain, I was thrilled to spot a Roe Deer moving through the remaining flowers. She vanished quickly, but not before I managed a few photos.

By lunchtime, the weather had turned, with stinging rain driving almost horizontally against our cheeks.

With one side of the Triangle left to cover, our luck changed when a passing ornithologist offered us a lift back to the Observatory. From there, we retreated to our cottage for a hot shower and lunch.

Later, a quick trip out for supplies and a warmer hat was our only other venture. We spent the rest of the afternoon warm and dry, downloading and processing photos. That night, we slept soundly, thanks to the fresh sea air.

Kilnsea Wetlands - Day 3

Sunday dawned wet and wild.

We began at the Kilnsea Wetlands Nature Reserve, seeking shelter in the hide.

We had missed high tide, so many birds had already returned to the mudflats to feed. Despite this, we spotted small groups of common waders - Redshank, Knot, Dunlin, and Turnstone.

Our attention was caught by a Grey Heron, which we nicknamed Shakespeare. It repeatedly picked up a feather and spat it out, perhaps mistaking it for a fish.

Shakespeare with his quill.

From there we retraced our previous day's route from the Spurn Discovery Centre.

The rain eased, but the wind grew stronger. During the walk, a female kestrel hovered directly above us, offering clear views as it hunted.

We also saw several Reed Buntings and Meadow Pipits flitting around.

At the Canal Scrape, we caught glimpses of an elusive Snipe and the two familiar moorhens but here was no sign of the resident Water Rail.

Cold and wet, we retreated to the Crown and Anchor for a late lunch. From the comfort of its large picture windows, we continued to watch the birds while looking out across the estuary to the Spurn Lighthouse, built in 1895 and decommissioned in 1985.

Day 4: Kilnsea Wetlands at sunrise

We set off just after sunrise, taking advantage of the promised break in the weather.

Arriving at Kilnsea, we settled into the hide to enjoy the golden morning light. For the next hour, I photographed the birds, including Curlew, Shedluck and a flock of Pink-Footed Geese that flew in. A Little Egret stalked the shallows, while further out we saw Mute Swans, Redshanks and a handful of Avocets.

When the best light faded, we decided we would need to arrive even earlier the next day.

Curlew during the Golden Hour

Shelduck flock

The Kilnsea Sound Mirror

We left the hide and walked towards Beacon Ponds, detouring to see the Kilnsea Sound Mirror.

This huge concrete dish was designed before the age of radar to focus the sound of approaching aircraft engines during the First World War.

Flock of Curlew (with a single Avocet) over Beacon Ponds

As we walked, flocks of birds left the wetlands and flew overhead.

Rounding a corner, we found the bushes alive with Reed Buntings and Goldfinches.

Rounding the far corner, Reed Buntings and Goldfinches covered the bushes. We had heard rumours of a rare Rustic Bunting on the reserve, but we never found it.

When the ground grew too wet underfoot, we turned back. Just before the car park, we made one last nice find: a small group of Whimbrel feeding in a field.

Female Reed Bunting

We returned to the Discovery Centre and then checked the nearby sunflower field, where goldfinches, greenfinches, and tree sparrows were busy stripping the seeds.

At one point, a rustle in the reeds beside me revealed a fleeting glimpse of a Whitethroat.

A Whitethroat in the reeds beside the field gate

Walking to Spurn Point

One of our goals for the trip was to walk the three and a half miles to the end of Spurn Point. As we set out, the sun broke through the clouds, and we soon shed our layers, enjoying the rare feeling of a warm, still day.

A tractor rumbled past us on the sand, its trailer loaded with furniture heading for some unknown destination. We exchanged glances, amused by the strange sight.

The only other vehicle permitted here is the Unimog, an all-terrain truck that takes visitors on a "Spurn Safari" to the tip, but it was not running during our visit.

A tractor acting as a furniture removal vehicle on the sand of Spurn Point

The walk was long, and my legs grew tired. I made it as far as the refuge shelter on the other side of the breach and collapsed onto a bench while my husband continued, determined to reach the lighthouse.

The remains of military buildings from world war 2 at Spurn Point

World War 2 remains

From my bench, I watched the remnants of World War II structures and old sea defences crumble into the North Sea. Pillboxes, gun emplacements, and storerooms stood half-swallowed by the sand, their concrete walls slowly surrendering to the tide.

I was lost in thought when I heard the crunch of boots behind me. I turned to see my husband trudging back, looking defeated.

"It was further than I thought," he said, dropping his backpack onto the sand with a thud.

I nodded. We were both disappointed not to have reached the lighthouse.

Big Hedge

After our long walk, we detoured up the Big Hedge Footpath, where two Stonechats were searching for food.

Nearby, a cluster of birdwatchers huddled, their binoculars trained on a distant bush.

"Rustic Bunting," one of them whispered. We scanned the branches with them but couldn't distinguish the rare bird from its common Reed Bunting cousins. Even without a sighting, we felt the shared thrill of the hunt.

Female Stonechat

Male Stonechat

As the light began to fade, a trio of deer appeared at the edge of the path, their large eyes watching us. I took a few photos, though the low light made them grainy.

Later, I would use one of these moments as the basis for a coloured pencil drawing.

For now, we just stood, enjoying the quiet of this windswept place and holding on to the memories of the day.

Roe deer buck (male)

Buck side view

My coloured pencil drawing of the Roe Buck seen at Spurn Head

Pencil drawing by Carol Leather

Flood alert! - Day 5

The evening's quiet was broken by the ping of an email on my phone. It was from our host. A sense of foreboding settled in as I opened it.

The message was blunt: an early morning flood warning for Easington village, caused by foul weather meeting a spring tide. The final line read, "Please ensure you don't leave anything valuable on the floor."

I turned to my husband. "We need to move our gear."

We scrambled to clear the floors, moving camera equipment and laptops onto the kitchen worktops. In the compact bungalow, every surface was soon occupied.

The next morning, the storm outside was intense. We stayed in, listening to the wind and the constant rain against the windows. Mercifully, the sea never breached the shore, and the floodwaters didn't reach us.

By the afternoon, we were restless and decided to brave the weather for a walk to Sammy's Point. The wind and rain were fierce, and our only reward was a solitary Curlew, its cry carrying through the gloom. It was a dismal day, memorable more for the challenge than for any sightings.

Birds of prey - Day 6

The next morning, sunshine and a gentle breeze encouraged us back outside. Our first stop was Kilnsea Wetlands. We had missed the best morning light, but the incoming high tide meant the birds would be gathering.

As we stepped into the reserve, we were met with a wall of birdsong. The sheer number of waders on the marsh was overwhelming, a shifting mass of plumage that made individual birds difficult to distinguish. Suddenly, the entire flock erupted into the sky at once.

Large flock of waders

We scanned the horizon for the cause of the panic and spotted two sleek silhouettes—a pair of Hobbies. They were a blur, darting through the air with incredible speed.

I raised my camera, but their movements were too quick and agile to track effectively. I only managed one decent photo, and even that required a heavy crop.

Hobby in flight

The spring tide

After the Hobbies departed, we left the hide and walked towards the old Blue Bell Café building to see the effect of the spring tide.

Much of the path we had walked just days before was now submerged. A couple and their small dog followed our previous route for a short distance before turning back at the water's edge.

The car park had vanished, its tarmac covered by the sea. We stood for a while, watching the waves wash over the land.

Our last day at Spurn Point - Day 7

On our last day, we stepped out of the car into a damp, biting wind. We exchanged a look, shouldered our gear, and set off towards Kilnsea Wetlands—a familiar stop on our route from Easington.

The sky was dark, but as we approached the hide, the dawn light began to spread across the wetlands. We moved quietly so as not to startle the wildlife and slipped inside, scanning the landscape. The quiet was broken only by the soft lapping of water against the shore.

Then we saw it: a Brown Hare, sitting serenely in front of the hide, its large eyes watchful but unafraid. I fumbled for my camera to capture it before it moved. Suddenly, its ears twitched, and it sprang forward, racing towards us before veering off and disappearing.

Brown Hare sitting in the early morning golden light

A sitting Brown Hare

The Hare soon raced off

Our next stop was the Canal Scrape behind the Discovery Centre.

The best morning light was fading, but we were soon joined by a Little Egret, its white plumage stark against the dull morning. It waded into the water, stirring the sediment with its long legs. We watched as it snagged a fish from the depths.

As the light softened to a blue-grey haze, we lingered for a moment before deciding to move on. In hindsight, I'm glad we did.

Rare bird sighting!

As we walked towards the Sea Watching hide for a final visit, we noticed a commotion. A crowd was hurrying in the opposite direction. "What's the fuss about?" we asked someone.

"Booted Warbler amongst the sunflowers!" was the reply.

The news sent a ripple of excitement through the air. My husband, his legs tired, opted to wait at the car, but I decided to try for a glimpse of the rare visitor. I turned and headed for the same field where I had seen the Roe Deer.

This time, the gate was surrounded by birders, their lenses trained on a tangle of plants a few metres into the field. I joined them, but I had a problem: I had never seen a Booted Warbler and had no idea what to look for.

I turned to the experts around me. "Could you show me where to look?" I asked.

The response was immediate. Ten voices offered directions at once. "See where two sunflower heads are behind that patch of mauve flowers? It was down there a moment ago!" someone said.

"Showing up top again, on the thistles," another whispered. A hand gently guided my camera lens lower. "You're aiming too high."

Then, a quiet voice from behind me offered a perfect description: "You're looking for a little fellow with a greyish-beige back and head, and a greyish-white underside. Watch when it moves, then follow it until it lands. It's quite confiding, so it'll stay put for a while."

Just as I was processing this, the Booted Warbler flew up from the ground, perching in plain sight. My camera struggled to focus against the messy background, but I managed a few record shots—enough to prove I'd seen it.

It was my first "rare" bird, and I knew many others at Spurn that day hadn't been so fortunate. The little bird wasn't dramatic or colourful, but as I turned to leave, I found myself smiling. Perhaps I was becoming a proper birdwatcher after all.

The rare Booted Warbler in the sunflower patch

To future adventures

Seeing the warbler was a perfect end to our visit to this special place, where the North Sea meets the Humber Estuary. I just hope this fragile spit of land, with its shifting sands, survives the coastal erosion so others can enjoy it.

As we turned to leave, I was certain it wouldn't be our last trip to this peninsula on the East Yorkshire coast. Who knows what wonders we'd discover next time?

And, as it turned out, we did return.

We came back in October, when the autumn winds were stronger and the light was golden.

We took the Spurn Safari on the Unimog, went inside the lighthouse, and met two red foxes. They were so used to people that they came close enough for me to photograph them with my iPhone—proof that you don’t always need a long lens for wildlife photography.

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Autumn Migration at Spurn Point Nature Reserve

Our trip to Spurn Point

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Kilnsea Wetlands - Day 3