Birdwatch: Wild goose chase

If you want to see a million geese of a dozen different species, with a whole host of other wintering birds, then Holland is definitely the place to go. If, like me, you live in south-east England, then it's actually easier to get there than most British goose haunts. You just pop through the Channel Tunnel, turn left, and three hours later you're watching the birds.

Holland is, of course, very flat. Wherever you go, the old rubs shoulders with the new, as ancient windmills stand alongside sleek modern wind turbines. The whole place has a strange beauty - though perhaps rather more strange than beautiful. After a while you long to get a view from high ground, or a few hills to break the visual monotony.

But bird-wise, Holland is far from monotonous. Any time of year is good for a visit, but winter is truly special. Huge flocks of geese feed in the fields, chomping away at grass while trampling it with their feet - much to the annoyance of local farmers. On the Ijsselmeer, a man-made lake so large it's like a small sea, there are vast flocks of duck - often so distant you can barely identify the species.

Once again, I was with a camera crew filming the latest Birding with Bill Oddie series. We began our trip in the south, in the region of Zeeland. Zeeland literally means 'sea land", and much of this area is reclaimed, rich in nutrients for crops and geese alike. The two commonest goose species were barnacle and white-fronted, though we also saw bean, greylag, brent and pink-footed, together with oddities such as vagrant lesser white-front, dubious-looking Canada geese and even more peculiar hybrids. Next to the world's biggest harbour, Europoort, a wintering flock of tiny birds took to the air, giving their characteristic tinkling call. They were snow buntings, looking like little angels, especially when they flew against the rapidly setting sun. With them was a small group of shore larks, showing their splendid black and yellow face pattern and the tiny 'horns' that give them their alternative name, horned lark.

On Sunday morning, a pre-dawn start took us to one of the most densely populated areas of Europe, a wooded park on the outskirts of Haarlem. A fall of snow the previous week had yet to melt, giving the place a wonderfully wintry atmosphere. Fortunately we had beaten the joggers and dog-walkers, and were rewarded by the comical sight of a roosting black woodpecker poking its head out of the roost-hole. It eyed us suspiciously, before flying off, uttering a curious high-pitched call as it went.

Despite this part of Holland being so close to East Anglia, black woodpecker has yet to be officially recorded in Britain. In recent years, however, it has been spreading northwards and westwards, so it's well worth looking out for this magnificent creature, the largest of Europe's woodpeckers.

Another species hardly ever found in Britain was everywhere. Short-toed treecreeper is barely distinguishable in the field from its common relative: except, that it, for the distinctive call, which we could hear loud and clear.

That afternoon we headed north, into Friesland. As we drove along the long, exposed dyke across the Ijsselmeer, the weather rapidly took a turn for the worse. We found ourselves shivering in the wind-chill as we watched barnacle geese feeding in the snowy fields. While we were filming yet another flock of geese, Richard, the camera assistant, drew my attention to a bulky brown bird flying past. It was a bittern, a rare sight anywhere, and always a delight to see. The next day the weather got so bad that filming became impossible. We packed up and headed home, chilled to the bone, but warmed by the knowledge that we had obtained some wonderful footage of one of Europe's greatest winter bird spectacles. Rarely can a wild goose chase have been so productive and enjoyable.