The Storm Birds finding refuge on inland reservoirs.

Some birding days have that electric feel – when news of a rarity lands on your phone, and suddenly your carefully planned Sunday is thrown out the window. This weekend, it was Cardiff’s turn to deliver, and the prize was irresistible: the potential of close views of two Grey Phalaropes feeding at Lisvane and Llanishen reservoirs.

Now, Grey Phalaropes (or Red Phalaropes, as the Americans insist on calling them) are normally birds of the open ocean. Outside their brief and spectacular Arctic breeding season, they spend their lives far out at sea, daintily dancing on the waves as if the North Atlantic were their own oversized birdbath. To find three of them bobbing about in a city reservoir is like bumping into a whale in your local swimming pool.

So how did they get here? Storms are the usual culprit. Grey Phalaropes are lightweight ocean wanderers, and when strong Atlantic weather pushes in, it can blow them off course. These little storm waifs end up scattered inland, turning up on lakes, reservoirs, and even the odd flooded field. It’s one of the joys of autumn birding in Britain: the chance that wild weather might drop something spectacular right on your doorstep.

A local birdwatcher pointed out two tiny white specs in the middle of LLanhishen Reservoir. They were occasionally doing what phalaropes do best – spinning daintily in tight circles on the water, creating mini-whirlpools to draw insects and invertebrates to the surface. But what really caught my eye were their sudden aerial sallies. Every so often, one would spring into the air with a flick of wings, darting after flies above the water. They were surprisingly agile in flight, snatching insects mid-air before dropping back down to resume their pirouettes.

Suddenly, one of the roosting Black-Headed Gulls decided to bully one of the little phalaropes and began to chase it. The gull appeared to spook the tiny wader, which flew off quickly away and over the dividing wall to Lisvane Reservoir, which lies literally the other side of the wall. I quickly marched off in the direction of Lisvane Reservoir, hoping that the Phalarope had landed somewhere close to the path.

Lady Luck was with me. I quickly found the Phalarope feeding close to the wall. I started to take photographs and was soon joined by a second photographer, who pointed out to me that a second Grey Phalarope was just a few meters away. 

I watched them for a good while, marvelling at their confiding nature. Unlike most waders, Grey Phalaropes are not easily spooked. Perhaps their life on the restless ocean has made them unbothered by humans standing quietly at the shore. For us lucky observers, it meant prolonged views of all three birds, their pale plumage gleaming against the still reservoir water.

It turned out that there were actually three Grey Phalaropes present. The two birds on Lisvane Reservoir had retained more colour to their plumage as opposed to the third bird that remained far out in the middle of Llanishen Reservoir.

As I finally tore myself away, I couldn’t help but reflect on how these fragile-looking birds had ridden the fury of Atlantic storms to find themselves in a quiet corner of Cardiff. Their journey is a reminder of the power of migration, the unpredictability of weather, and the joy of being in the right place at the right time with binoculars in hand.

Unplanned days like this are often the most memorable. And for me, seeing three ocean wanderers twirling about on a Welsh reservoir is a sight that will stay with me long after the autumn winds have blown themselves out.

I have been overjoyed with the feedback about my picture, which was also published online by BirdGuides as a notable picture of the week.