Quest for the Bittern

Castle Waters, Rye Harbour

Ever since I heard the boom of a bittern on a CD of British Bird Songs, I have wanted to find one. The boom, their foghorn-like mating call, sounds like no other bird, really bassy and resonant. Bitterns are more common here in the Winter, so recently I decided, with the Winter coming to an end (hopefully) that I was running out of time to find one.

I decided Rye Harbour would be an apt place to start the quest. It's fairly close, just 1hr22m on the train and with its wet reed beds, it should be a perfect habitat for bitterns. They are very particular about where they live and as a result are quite rare and shy. This was to be a solitary quest because Rose works in the week and time was of the essence.

Rye Harbour is surrounded by marsh land with reed beds and rivers running through, and there's a castle; if it wasn't for the industrial plant and motorways nearby, it would have felt like a Saxon wilderness.

I wasn't very hopeful that I would find a bittern, to be honest. I couldn't find any evidence of recent sightings online, but I would surely be placated by other interesting birds.

As it happened, the castle waters were teeming with birds: pairs of bickering oystercatchers; bare trees full of cormorants guarding their nests like reptilian vultures; duckloads of ducks: tufted, shovellers (with their goofy bills like shovels), teal, pochard, widgeon, and then there was a lone graceful great crested grebe and a little grebe the size of a duckling even though it's fully grown; a hovering kestrel; pied wagtails blown across the plains in unruly parties…then amidst all this bustling activity, as I approached a reed bed, there was a golden apparition. It flew swiftly and large across the waters to the opposite reed bank. It was a bittern. More golden than you would expect from the drawn pictures in bird books that make it look dull brown and yellow. In my mind's eye now it was pure gold glistening in the barely-there sun, then disappearing completely into the reeds.

I realised it was too unspring-like for him to be booming to potential mates yet. I tried to imitate the sound to challenge him into responding but I doubt he even heard my feeble efforts. I was partly just booming with excitement, I must admit.

Below is a video of a bittern booming. You can just about hear it. Mostly you can just hear excited birdwatchers saying, 'it's booming!' Great pictures though.